#// Fashionably late. You can thank life and my severe lack of energy for that. :')

[spcllbounded]

A loud (and probably very unnecessary) SLAM can be heard at a poor front door as the loud and proud kremling bursts in. Fluffing his cape in a nonexistent draft of wind and puffing his golden-plated chest, the king clears his throat to make his entrance even more over-the-top than it already was.

“Step aside and away from the sign ups! Because your soon-to-be winner has just walked in!”

Well, he’s got the spirit. That’s a great start.

“Well isn’t that a rather bold claim! Based on the results from last year, after all!”

As if he was shot by a sudden tingle of embarrassment and guilt, K Rool’s eye began to twitch as heard that remark over his shoulder. At the corner of his other eye, he could see a purple hand hanging onto his shoulder.

“Unless I’m wrong. That could be another green, scaley and rich guy I could be thinking of. I can’t tell all you kings apart sometimes!”

Just what the king needed. A wise crack to remind him of that humiliating defeat that stained his reputation in the seminar. Not a moment sooner, K Rool jerks his shoulder away from the mage’s grasp.

“Let’s get one thing straight, greenie! I thought it was a practice round! I’m not playing around this time! Even though I could wipe the floor with you and your hat without even-...”

“Uh, ‘scuse me green guys? Is this where we sign up?”

A squeak broke the kremling’s banter. Who dares oppose the mighty king from a wallop he was about to dish?

“I mean, this IS the seminar you all are yelling about, right? I got a little lost multiverse hopping around and stuff.”

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 2)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: The First Meeting

Next Chapter: What's Your Ideal Type?

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj, @rizzo-nero, @whoreuc

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty.

CHAPTER 2: The Rebirth

You had a hard time falling asleep that night. Your mind is trying to remember the vision, but the images remain blurry. There was a faint heat lingering from the man's body pressed against yours.

‘Could we possibly be…. It’s not impossible but….’, your mind was working 10,000 miles an hour trying to think of the possibilities. There was only one thought that came to mind and it made you blush. You pulled up the covers and snuggled against your stuffed plushies and pillows. You had to pass by the library and get permission tomorrow.

At least the weaponry was amazing. Noritoshi senpai even showed you inside and pointed you to the crossbows he often practices with. ‘He must be a capable sorcerer. The way he holds himself up with such dignity was already a dead giveaway. A natural born leader huh.’ you wondered.

You fell asleep that night dreaming about a lovely Phoenix, being reborn from ashes.

◇◇◇

Noritoshi was pacing around in his room. He had passed by the library on the way back from dinner, and grabbed several books. “The Secrets of Foreseeing the Future, Vol. 1”, “Alternate and Parallel Worlds”, “Past Lives: A Study”, and “The Life and Works of Abe no Seimei".

He paced around his dorm room, looking over the book that was bothering him the most. “The Tales and True Records of Soulmates”.

He scanned through the main parts of the book. It spoke about bonding. There apparently were 2 types of bonding, emotional and physical.

When 2 halves of a whole reach a certain degree of understanding of each other, they establish what's called a half-bond or a phantom bond.

This begins to link their emotions. Intense anger, fear, joy, disgust, sorrow, and love can be felt from the very first stage. As their bond strengthens, they begin to share more emotions, as well as short strong intentions.

Intentions are used to depict a state of being. If they have a goal or a state of feeling over a particular matter, their partner can pick up on it.

The near final stage of a full bond is when they start to share physical sensations. When one gets injured, it will resound with the other.

The strongest bond is known to share special abilities and thoughts via telepathy between a fated pair.

Noritoshi's mind was definitely in overdrive. There was SO MUCH information on soulmates. But the one thing that wasn't explicitly stated was how a soulmate pair found each other.

How do soulmates confirm that they are indeed soulmates? Most of the information was based on soulmates who simply claimed to be. Then what about how they came to be?

So now he knows that soulmates are supposedly able to share emotions and feelings to a certain degree. But there was a lack of information in the book. What about visions? The vision he shared with y/n was one of a kind.

It kept discussing how the known most popular existence were the parents of Sugawara no Michizane. One of the three great vengeful spirits that is the ancestor of the Gojo clan.

He made up his mind. Taking out his phone, he dialed up his father.

Beep. “Noritoshi? It’s so late, why are you calling at this time? It best be an urgent matter.” his father gruffly answered.

“I am sorry to disturb you father. It’s just, there is a new student here in school. A First year called Tsuchimikado y/n from the Tsuchimikado clan.”

“Ahhh, them huh? Powerful group even though there are only a few of them. They don’t really talk about their techniques that much. They are descendants of Abe no Seimei and yet they kept to themselves as a minor clan of jujutsushi… So what about her?”

“She might possibly be my soulmate, but I am still confirming. Do you have any books or records on soulmates at all?”

At this, his father sat up straight in his study. “Are you serious? And what can you say to prove such claims? Do you know how rare a soulmate bond is?”

"I am aware. And I know we may not be soulmates. But I have some suspicions. If you have any info about soulmates, The Abe clan, or the Tsuchimikado clans, I would appreciate it." Noritoshi replied.

"Okay. I'll have a look and get back to you. Feel free to come by the main house this weekend. Look over the main study. There are also some records on Soulmates there."

"Thank you father. Have a good evening."

Beep.

Noritoshi sighed. He undid his hair bindings and combed out his hair. And opened the book again. He read through the table of contents in case he missed out on any major pointers.

He couldn't read the book in one sitting, because he is still reviewing for the TOEIC and improving his English.

He yawned and was about to retire to bed, remembering his promise to bring you around tomorrow, when one particular word jumped at him.

The binding process of soulmates. He quickly flipped through to the page and found out with horror that some of the pages had been torn out.

It wasn't him who did it. (Obviously). But now he has to go and tell Utahime sensei about it.

He took a closer look at the remaining few pages.

"The Binding of Soulmates. It is known to vary per pair. Some pairs found themselves to be born with a matching symbol in the inside of their arms or on their necks from birth. While others form it upon passing the first stage of -" and the page ends with a violent diagonal tear from the upper right corner to the lower left.

That's pretty much all that he can take away from the book so far. Frustrated, he decided to go to sleep. Nothing about sharing visions was mentioned so far. Maybe they weren't a fated pair after all.

But deep in his gut, Noritoshi knew that you were an important person to him. That was for sure. As he fell asleep, he shared the same dream with you. A lone Phoenix, being reborn from its ashes.

◇◇◇

The following morning, you didn't know where to meet up with Noritoshi senpai so you simply went to the same place he left you last night. On your way there, you passed by a tall robot kind of thing which spooked you. You stared at it, wondering if it was a kind of automation that serves the technical school.

To your surprise, it turned towards you and bowed while greeting, "Hello. I'm a 1st year student here at Kyoto Jujutsu Technical College. You can call me Mechamaru. Kokichi Muta is my real name, but I use robots to fight."

Your eyes widened in surprise and curiosity. "My name is Tsuchimikado Y/n, also starting here as a first year student. Pleased to meet you!" You bowed back.

“So… is your body inside that robot?” you asked him.

“No, as a result of heavenly restriction, which if you haven’t heard of yet is a means of exchange/ a binding contract, my body is elsewhere. I am controlling this robot from afar.”

Your eyes bugged, “That’s incredible! To have that much cursed energy, plus it is over such a long distance.” You were jealous as long-ranged techniques are something you try to work hard and specialise on.

“It’s not that fun being physically stuck in a basement.” Mechamaru didn’t sound too amused.

“Ah, I’m sorry about that… “ you floundered as you mentally hit yourself for being so inconsiderate.

“No need to apologize. I am used to it.” He waved it off coolly.

"You're the first other 1st year I've met Mechamaru. I wonder when the others will come. I've heard of 2 others." You wondered.

"I've already met one of them. Miwa is her name. You won't miss her with her bright blue hair." He replied. His voice was so stiff and robotic, a strange feature.

"Ohhhh I see. I'll keep that in mind!" You smiled. "I'm afraid I have somewhere to be right now, but I'll catch you around for sure! Please take care of me."

"Don't let me keep you waiting. Please also take care of me and see you around." Mechamaru waved as you ran off.

More students to meet huh. Your heart pounded in nervousness and excitement. So it was Miwa and Mechamaru so far. ‘Ugh, I’m so bad with names. I’ll surely get used to it.’ you thought to yourself.

You rounded the corner and nearly plowed through Noritoshi senpai in your haste. “Whoa there, careful,” he held his hands out in case you slipped, but you were fine. You caught yourself just before you hit his personal space.

You were surprised to see him already there, in the same clothes he was in yesterday (was that his uniform? You had yet to get yours, which had custom arrangements).

"Good morning Noritoshi-senpai!" you beamed up at him. He looked down at you amusedly, liking your bright energy. “Good morning y/n.”

Your smile grew wider upon hearing your name fall from his lips for the very first time. For a moment the both of you just stood there smiling. Then Noritoshi beckoned you to his side as you walked around the campus.

"Did you sleep well last night?" He asked.

"Ah yes, though it might take some time getting used to the dorm rooms here. But everything is pretty much convenient. Especially the kitchenettes in our rooms." You were still excited about starting classes.

“Did you have your uniform tailored to your liking?” You asked him.

“Ah yes, I requested a looser fit. I am used to wearing a kimono and wooden sandals at home. I simply requested for them to be made in a similar fashion for comfort. And it gives me enough space to hide all of my weapons.” He smiled gently down at you.

“Ahhh I see. I have also put in a request for my uniform, but I don’t have it yet.” you said.

“Well, it shouldn’t be too long now, classes start in 2 days after all.”

He brought you around the main gardens. “It’s so big,” you gaped, excited to train here. There was so much open space, it would be good for flying practice. “The other buildings are offices for the staff, and warehouses for special tools and materials.” He explained.

Then Noritoshi led you to a corridor with tons of doors. “These are the 3rd year classrooms. First and second year classrooms are upstairs. We can have a look if you’d like?” He asked.

You agreed. And on your way to the staircase, you came face to face with a man going down the stairs. He was incredibly tall and ripped. With his hair tied up, a scar racing down on his left eye, he grunted at Noritoshi in greeting.

He came down and faced you both, before addressing Noritoshi. “You ready for class? Is this a new student?”

“Of course I am. And she is a first year. Tsuchimikado Y/n.” Noritoshi introduced you and you quickly bowed in greeting. “You can call me Tsuchi san or just Tsuchi as I know my last name is long. It is very nice to meet you!”

Noritoshi noted that you didn’t offer to be addressed by your first name this time and felt weirdly happy.

“Todo Aoi, 2nd year. So… what man or woman is your ideal type?” He asked as he loomed over you menacingly. You barely came up to this man's chest.

….. What in the world are you getting into?

Fun fact: The Tsuchimikado Clan are indeed a real clan descended from the Abe Clan and Abe no Seimei the Onmyouji himself. I chose Abe no Seimei as a parallel to the three great vengeful spirits from whom the big 3 Jujutsu families are descendants of. As Abe no Seimei was also a major figure during the Heian period. But of course my story is a work of fiction so other than the onmyouji himself, everyone else is not real^^.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

[passionate-reply]

This week on Great Albums, we look at a surprisingly experimental album from a band who got royally screwed by their record label: Propaganda, with their arguable only LP, A Secret Wish. Oh, and did I mention that that record label was none other than Zang Tuum Tumb, run by none other than Trevor Horn? Find out the whole story in the video, or in the transcript below the break.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! In this installment, I’ll be looking at a relative sleeper of its era, with a unique sound that’s set it apart and won it a contingent of cult followers over the years: A Secret Wish, the first, and only, studio album from the classic lineup of Propaganda, first released in 1985.

First formed in Duesseldorf, West Germany by Ralf Doerper of Die Krupps, Propaganda soon relocated to Great Britain in the hopes of finding a wider audience for their music. Their lucky break came in the form of being signed to the record label Zang Tumb Tuum, headed by then-rising star, Trevor Horn. Fresh off his first major success as a producer, ABC’s The Lexicon of Love, Horn then lent his famous production chops to Propaganda’s first single, “Dr. Mabuse.”

Music: “Dr. Mabuse”

The first time I heard “Dr. Mabuse,” I wasn’t familiar with the titular character, and that might be true for you, too, if you’re from the Anglosphere like me. Dr. Mabuse was a literary villain invented by Norbert Jacques, and later made much more famous in a film adaptation of his tale directed by Fritz Lang, the mastermind behind Metropolis. A manipulative criminal kingpin, Mabuse wields strange powers like psychic possession and astral projection, which, despite their seemingly occult origins, often exploit modern technologies, like cinema screens that can hypnotize people. While he may sound like the perfect subject for a chilling, brooding synth-pop anthem, I can’t help but wonder if the character’s relative lack of recognition in the English-speaking world may have hampered this single’s success. While its ominous, gothic energy sets it apart from much of Horn’s other work, it still has some of his characteristic bombast behind its sinister hook, and has an evident “hit single” feel. Still, it performed significantly better in Continental Europe than elsewhere.

Much like ABC’s famous hit, “The Look of Love,” was expanded into a four-part suite that included an instrumental reprise on its LP, this version of “Dr. Mabuse” is listed on the album with the subtitle “First Life,” and assorted variants of it were available in different formats. It also received an arguable reprise with the album’s final track, titled “Strength to Dream / The Last Word.” The title is a bit more opaque than that of “The Look of Love (Part Four),” which made the relationship more obvious, but the synth sequences do bear a rather strong resemblance.

Music: “Strength to Dream / The Last Word”

Unfortunately for Propaganda, Trevor Horn quickly became a little too successful for his own good. Labelmates Frankie Goes to Hollywood achieved unprecedented success with Welcome to the Pleasuredome, and their famous singles “Relax” and “Two Tribes,” which led Zang Tumb Tuum to throw almost all of their promotional support behind their newfound golden child. The release of A Secret Wish was postponed, and Horn was no longer able to produce the rest of the album, besides “Dr. Mabuse.” But despite the fact that Horn isn’t actually here, there’s still a noticeable attempt to finish the album in an aesthetically similar, “in-the-style-of” fashion, and the end result is an LP that's surprisingly quite sonically cohesive!

Music: “Jewel”

With its abrasive textures, aggressive energy, and heavy emphasis on percussion, “Jewel” feels more like a track from the Art of Noise than it does Horn’s triumphant pop productions like “Relax.” “Jewel” also has an alter ego on the same album, and serves as a sort of evil doppelgaenger for the similarly-titled track, “Duel.” The two tracks feature the same lyrics, but vastly different treatments and moods.

Music: “Duel”

I like to think “Jewel” displays how a tumultuous relationship looks from outside, painful and unpredictable, whereas “Duel” is a bit like experiencing it yourself, and being so enraptured by the blissful pain that you don’t realize how frightening the lyrics actually are. Besides the much softer instrumentals, the lead vocal performance by Claudia Bruecken is also markedly different, and I think the contrast between the two is a testament to her vocal chops. Throughout the album, Bruecken’s voice is rich and full of character, setting her apart as one of the more distinctive vocalists in 80s synth-pop.

Overall, “Duel” is perhaps the most accessible and easy to like track on A Secret Wish, and it accordingly became the album’s biggest hit. But unlike most obvious singles, it arrives at the tail end of the album’s first side, after a slew of much more experimental tracks. Not only does “Jewel” arrive before “Duel” does, but the album’s opening track, “Dream Within a Dream,” is an eight-minute psychedelic opus based around a text by Edgar Allen Poe! “Duel” feels a bit like a break for refreshments after listening to the earlier parts of the album. It really is a surprisingly experimental work given its relative commercial success, reaching #16 on the UK albums chart. Still, despite that success, *A Secret Wish* doesn’t seem too strongly remembered today, which is something I’d certainly like to see change. Counterbalanced between pop and the avant-garde, this album sounds like a cross between the Eurythmics and Einstuerzende Neubauten--something I say with as much affection as possible!

At first glance, the cover of A Secret Wish almost appears abstract, an inky web of squiggles. But upon closer inspection, one can see that the object depicted on the cover is actually a dress form, a wireframe in the shape of a human torso, which might be used to display clothing in a retail setting, or in the design of clothing.

While this emblem may not sound particularly sinister, I’m tempted to compare it to Harry Harlow’s famous experiments on rhesus monkeys. Harlow took orphaned baby monkeys and offered them a “cloth mother” and a “wire mother.” Artificial effigies of monkey mothers dispensed food for the test subjects--one with a soft and cuddly body of cloth, and one with a cold and barren armature of wire. When distressed, Harlow’s monkeys sought shelter and comfort from the cloth mothers, regardless of which mother had dispensed food to them, suggesting that the comfort of their soft touch had a value of its own to the monkeys. The results of this research have often been used to suggest the importance of physical contact between children and their caregivers. Propaganda’s use of the cold, bare, female-coded wire frame, enshrined, alone, in the center of a drab-coloured composition, centers the idea of the inhospitable and the unloving. Perhaps it is a symbol of the inhumanity and alienation of modern life?

As I hinted at earlier, A Secret Wish ended up being the only album this version of Propaganda managed to put together, despite the tremendous promise that it shows. Feeling flagrantly under-compensated per the terms of their contract with Zang Tumb Tuum, the members of the band went to court, and eventually jumped ship to Virgin Records instead. That is, except for Claudia Bruecken, who decided to stick with Zang Tumb Tuum for several more years. Later in the 80s, she would team up with Thomas Leer to form the synth-pop duo Act, whose lone LP, Laughter, Tears, & Rage, is a worthwhile listen that I would consider the ideal follow-up to A Secret Wish--though it’s markedly less experimental and percussion-driven, sounding more like late 80s, post-Pet Shop Boys, baroque synth-pop.

Music: “Absolutely Immune”

My personal favourite track on A Secret Wish is the album’s final single, “p:Machinery.” With pounding percussion and buzzing synths, not to mention some dramatic and dystopian lyrics, this is definitely the track on the album that reminds me of Ralf Doerper’s industrial music roots! Apparently, parts of this track’s melody were composed by none other than Japan’s David Sylvian, who receives a minor thank-you in its liner notes. While I don’t think the finished track sounds terribly similar to anything of Sylvian’s, I can’t say I don’t find that pretty interesting. That’s everything for today--thanks for listening!

Music: “p:Machinery”

[ratingtheframe]

Everything Wrong With… Ep 2 - The Devil Wears Prada

Welcome back to Everything Wrong With...the series where dive head first into some of the seemingly okay-ish films and analyse why in fact they do more harm than good in providing us with satiable entertainment. Follow me on instagram @ratingtheframe for more movie related content and without further ado, let's get into this chick flick and see how far we’ve come since 2006.

If you aren’t aware, The Devil Wears Prada is a 2006 “chick flick” originally written as a book by Lauren Weisenburger. I remember seeing The Devil Wears Prada as one of those grown up lady films, for mature women on tampon adverts who had wine on Thursday evenings from M&S and wore heels practically everywhere. My perception of this film and the audience it caters towards has changed dramatically after watching it and it kills me inside to imagine the popularity and praise such a film got back in 2006, an extremely harsh time for women and the perception of beauty standards. 

The world was still getting into the internet, magazines and runways were adjusting to the 2000s and the way that women were viewed in the media was a lot more damaging than today. Former supermodels such as Kate Moss and Cara Delevingne have since come out and talked about their experiences in the modelling industry and how it creates unhealthy stereotypes for women and young girls to abide by. The ‘size 0’ and ‘heroin chic look’ has since been banished from the modelling industry, two expectations that were pretty popular in the late and early 2000s for models. We are witnessing a revolution for the modelling industry as they (very) slowly but surely are beginning to introduce more plus sized, diverse and unfiltered faces for their campaigns. We can breathe easier knowing that the only way is forward for the fashion industry and that very little people will stand for the mid 2000s ideologies that were pumped out to the entire world.

Back to 2006 and one of the year’s most popular films with female audiences; The Devil Wears Prada, starring the likes of Anne Hathaway, Meryl Streep and Emily Blunt. The film follows Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway) , a wannabe journalist newly welcomed into New York City and is currently on the hunt for her career. She manages to land a job at Runway Magazine, a large, corporate editorial magazine for women’s fashion run by the one and only Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep), a devious, beautiful and highly successful media personality and editor.

So far so good as we have two tangible and likeable female leads. The opening sequence (one of the most important in any film) had me eye rolling a touch in the way it depicted women of the 2000s and seemingly created the idea that there are two sides to women. 

The five or so minute montage consisted of the various women who are models at Runway, getting ready for their long day of work, right from being undressed to fully made up. This was supposed to be a contrast to how our lead Andy gets ready, barely throwing on any makeup and throwing on whatever she wants whilst heading out the door. When you put the way women choose to be perceived in the world at an opposition, you create this divide between women and further place their worth on how they choose to look. The stereotype of a ‘pick me girl’ arises from this opposition, a girl who actively shames other women for choosing to be more openly feminine in their appearance and actions. The intelligence and respect of women should not be based on how they look when they show up, rather how they BEHAVE when they show up. I just thought this montage was a little unnecessary and if anything, introduced us into a misogynistic world of 2006 really well. One point for accuracy, no points for progression. Everyone gets dressed in the morning and (often) everyone wears underwear, showing this activity on screen didn’t really add much to the film besides the pressures of women to look a certain way. 

Once Andy arrives at the company, she is rudely introduced by Emily (Emily Blunt) Miranda’s current right hand. Now the entire character of Emily is again, another concept to this film that is left better in the 2000s; a mean girl and a VERY mean one at that. This world is already a patriarchal mess for women like Andy and Emily and having women join the bandwagon in showing an oppressive side to those who don’t conform to the female societal norms is non progressive. It was almost as if Emily was an investor into the patriarchy by behaving abhorrently towards her from the way she dressed as opposed to her actual character and qualifications. Please, let's not have women against women based on their desirability in the eyes of the male gaze. Emily has already become a clear victim to her own policies, as her lack of eating is laid bare to us as an entertaining gimmick as opposed to a cause of concern. Last time I checked making fun of eating disorders wasn’t chic. 

Now the argument whether Miranda Priestly is also an investor in the patriarchy is a little clouded. Through her mean spirit and harsh words towards Andy and her appearance, she comes across as someone who is doing more harm than good by joining the patriarchal view of women in the 2000s. I found myself having to bite my tongue a little instead of calling her bitch because that would be letting my internalized misogyny get the best of me. 

Even though Miranda is tough talking and spiteful, I really can’t blame her for it as a character. She is one of the strongest female characters I’ve come across on screen for both her strengths and flaws. Had such a character been placed in a Roman Army or Italian Mob, my views of her would have stayed the same. She is a strong woman with enough versatility and strength to face any situation. The way she asserts her authority in a funny and patronizing way is hard not to fall in love with and any woman who asserts their authority and relishes in their own power is already technically against the patriarchy. Her industry may be patriarchal, however her spirit is not and the things she does in order to keep her status is admirable. I found myself comparing her to the way a man maneuvers the world (again, internalised misogyny, working on it) which in some parts is the reason there should be more Miranda Priestly's in films. Instead of comparing strong women to men, with more strong female leads we’ll start comparing these women to other women. 

Thank god for the zilch, overly graphic sex scenes in this film (maybe cuz the screenplay was written by a woman, but who knows-), however their is one character I’d like to address that rubbed me the wrong way and spoke for a big hole in the modelling/fashion industry that still exists today. Christian Thompson (Simon Baker) is this handsome, 40 summit journalist who meets Andy at a social event for a fashion designer. I admit he was charming in his demeanour but also overtly creepy at points. Andy and Christian bump into each other in Paris where he leads her down a street (his hand on THAT part of the elbow) and kisses Andy without consent, knowing she has a boyfriend. “Oh, it's just a movie” you’re probably thinking, but yet I couldn’t help but cringe at such a thing. Movies are a reflection of our society after all. He kisses her several more times until Andy gives in. If we’re trying to get films to reach audiences and affect them in some way, encouraging consent should be one of those things. Depicting such a madness on screen makes my rolls right to the back of my head and speaks for the entire society behind the modelling and fashion industry; a society run by men who can do what they like with or without consent. Though the wellbeing of Andy wasn’t in imminent danger, I felt Christian Thompson as a character to be a representation of those in the fashion industry who take advantage of women because of their status and so called connections. No more of this please!

Andy has a transformation a little later into the film, a concept that we thought had been left in the patriarchy trash can, but quickly emerged in Debby Ryan’s Insatiable (2018). Lasting only 2 seasons from 2018-19, the Netflix series followed Patty Bladell who gets afforded niceties and respect after she loses weight and becomes a “hot girl”. The show was created by Lauren Guissis based on an article about a (male) Pageant Guru who tells women how they can become pageant queens for a small fee...EW. The fact that such a show got picked up in a day and age that was beginning to open up to body positivity and more inclusivity in the media, the show was insensitive to its current surroundings. 

This same “ugly duckling” transformation isn’t something new or old apparently, with the one in The Devil Wears Prada being one of the least progressive moments of the film. Now that Andy looked like she could work at Runway, somehow she was working a lot better at Runway and was being afforded privileges she didn’t get before her new haircut. Is this the message we want to send out to the world anymore? That in order to get a one up in life, all you need is new clothes and better make up skills? Of course, glo ups can be fun but the purest, healthiest form of a glow up comes from within.

A tiring cliché that “beauty comes from within” but one that makes a lot of sense and something I experienced in my mid teens. Having never experienced male validity or the feeling of desirability, once I began to believe I was beautiful on the outside, others began to notice, because they could read the confidence and self worth I had from my outward energy. An energy that can’t be felt beyond a face tuned Instagram picture. Beauty can be an energy as well as a look and had Andy embraced this more and rejected the passing comments people made at her, it would have taught us that one doesn’t have to conform in order to be respected. On the other hand, I don’t want to shame nor blame her as conforming to societal standards as for most women ,it’s an act of survival, to secure their places in certain spaces, with Andy being no expectation. A sad reality that a woman may have to wear makeup in order to stay in people’s good books, but a choice that should be discussed as opposed to shamed. 

I truly could go on and on about the harmful stereotypes and implications of The Devil Wears Prada and it's sad, yet true similarities to the real fashion industry of today and the mid 2000s. It was and still is cut throat, with many models developing eating disorders, low self esteem issues and even substance abuse due to the mounting pressures of trying to reach perfection. A perfection that doesn’t exist seeing as the fashion and modelling industry alters their version of perfection every single day. I’m glad that by the end of the film Andy ditched Runway in favour of living a more healthy and truthful lifestyle, one that wasn’t swapped in ridiculous pressures and the threat to conform or else leave. Which she did in the end. Miranda isn’t a devil, but a force to be reckoned with in a world that is ready to make her feel lesser than herself because of her gender. I hope to never see such a film like The Devil Wears Prada, ever again, in a world that no longer needs this sort of film to represent the strengths of women. It's best left in 2006 and hopefully you’ve learnt something you’ve never thought about from this in depth analysis. 

[dagenspear]

Crisis On Infinite Earths Outline Fix, Part 2

Like some I disliked the crossover, it's the worst out of all of them, and this is my preference for it to be done. This one is the first of the more aggressive changes to the crossover. Here are the ideas God blessed me with:

In the opening of the episode, Oliver wakes up on Lian Yu, then searching it, seeing visual reminders of his losses from the past, then being confronted by the Spectre, a green cloaked, shrouded figure, who quickly defeats Oliver and pins him to the ground, telling him his destiny is finally upon him.

This part has a bit more going on, so I'll explain in lettered plots:

A. This is a Batwoman episode, so like Kara was more or less the focus before, she's the focus here. The main structure and this bleeds into the B plot, is that the Monitor is dead now and the crisis is sill happening and they want to help other earths try and prevent E2's and Supergirl Earth's destruction for themselves. This plot is much more involved here. Using Pariah, someone who can sense the destruction of an Earth, sets their breach devices by a signal that'll send them to an earth by how close it is to being hit by the antimatter, taking them to the place where that might originate. Kate does this, but not before being found by E-1 Bruce, played by David Giuntoli, whose come due to the end of world type situation that's unraveling. We will expand on why this Bruce left. When Jason Todd was murdered, he became bitter and filled with rage and in this fit he hunted down the Joker and nearly killed him. Seeing himself as no longer fit to be Batman, he left, but this situation is dire enough to convince him to step back up. He and Kate travel to a few earths to warn those earths of the crisis, going to Gotham first. The First is Birds Of Prey TV Series Earth 109, where she meets Helena Kyle, played by Ashley Scott, and Dinah Lance, played by Rachel Skarsten, and with a vocal cameo by Oracle, played by Dina Meyer. Bruce is distraught at the idea of an earth where he's had a daughter. Kate is taken aback by Dinah's appearance, and doesn't know how to deal with it, but pushes through to find out where Batman is, thinking he may be able to help. Earth 109's Batman is Kevin Conroy Bruce, a bitter, angry and alone Bruce whose lost almost everything in his life. Alfred, Jason, Damien his son, Selina and Kate. Here we delve into why he left Helena and Gotham, seeing himself and Batman as nothing but an bringer of pain and death of all that he cares about. He's angry at Helena for her staying as a vigilante, thinking it will only bring to her what it's brought to him, that and his fear of bringing his family pain driving him to stay away. KC Bruce relents when he hears about the crisis, but it's too late and the anti-matter sweeps in, taking out Gotham, Helena with it, as Kate uses a breach device to take her, E1 Bruce and KC Bruce out of there. KC Bruce is devastated at this, but regroups out of a desire for revenge against what's done this. Kate realizes the breach device took them to Gotham TV Series Earth 14, met with Bruce Wayne, played by David Mazouz. They explain the situation to him, he's shocked, but grasps the importance of the situation and offers to help, him being dismissed due to his age and lack of experience. He protests this, but is met with the other Bruces viewing him as naive, citing their losses and how he doesn't understand the cost of being Batman, DM Bruce angrily snapping back that they've failed the city their parents wanted to protect, rejecting that future for himself, of giving up like that. But the red skies begin to emerge, the shadow creatures beginning to sweep across the world. KC Bruce almost taking a sadistic pleasure at the idea of destroying these things, as he activates his armored bodysuit. It wouldn't have to be too fancy as far as budget wise.

B. This one is much smaller, showing a few similar aspects, but not leaning so hard into the fan service in the way the show does. Kara, Lois and Clark, using the breach device set to tracing antimatter signatures, go to Smallville TV show's Earth 217. There they meet SV Clark and Lois, who still have kids. Kara's shellshocked to see Lois look so similar to her mom. At an earlier point of this story, Kara begins to feel obsessed with the idea of turning back time and preventing her earth and Argo's destruction, pushing Ray to try and figure out how to get the waverider to time travel, so she can prevent it. Seeing a Lois who looks like her mom doesn't help. They warn him of the crisis, offering up the ways it can be at least held off, as they try and find a way to stop it entirely, suggesting he gather the help needed to make it happen as they seek out other earths to warn. Then leaving, going to Superman The Movie/Series Earth 78. Where they meet Brandon Routh's Superman, who explains to them his losses due to the same thing as what happened in the show, Kara reflecting on the loss of this Superman and how he strives not to lose himself. Him agreeing to help in any way he can. Meanwhile SV Clark goes to Lex Luthor played by Michael Rosenbaum. He convinces Lex to supply what's needed for the tower to try and hold back the antimatter.

C. This one is more simple than the others. Sara, Barry and Mia try to work out what to do with Oliver, whose badly injured, but the waverider isn't able to heal him due to the creature's attacks being based in antimatter energy. They get Jjonn to project them into Oliver's mind to try and figure out what's going on, after Jjonn tells them that he senses that although Oliver's soul is still connected to his body, it's somewhere else. Oliver questions the Spectre's meaning and where he's come from, the Spectre telling him he was once Jim Corrigan, a officer who sought justice once but allowed himself to become corrupt and killed someone to save his own skin, only to be killed himself, in his dying moments finding God and repenting for his sins, God saving his life by giving him the opportunity to become a heroic force in the world, by being like a vessel for God's vengeance on earth. Spectre tells Oliver that it's now his turn to do the same and become a vessel's for God's vengeance of the multiverse against the Anti-Monitor. Oliver repents, giving his life to God and Jesus Christ, accepting this as his destiny. But not before Mia, Barry and Sara arrive, calling to Oliver. Oliver, torn at first, grasps the importance of this, and agrees, the Spectre's white-greenish energy emerging from underneath his shrouded cloaked face and breathing into Oliver. Barry, Mia and Sara are bounced out of Oliver's mind and Oliver's body disappears from the waverider in a flash of light.

At the conclusion of the episode, the heroes gather to fight back the forces collecting on Earth 14. In the midst of this, we'd get some old fashioned fan service, with KC Batman and BR Superman fighting back to back, and E1 Bruce and TH Superman fighting together as well. Meanwhile, we catch a glimpse of something similar happening on Earth 217, with Lex himself in an armored suit and Clark as Superman. The Bats are focused on beating the shadow creatures, while DM Bruce sees a family trapped in an area surrounded by shadow creatures, seeing the Supers and others making sure the hold back the majority of the shadow creatures to ensure the majority of civilians escape (though this is shown to not be possible as the shadow creatures are even more powerful than before), he throws a small explosive to break them free, and takes the heat of the shadow creatures, him taking a hits from them, it severely injuring him. KC Bruce takes DM Bruce's sacrifice in as he helps defend Kate, as she catches this. The shadow creatures begin to overwhelm them. When suddenly, E-38 Lex Luthor emerges through a breach and, surprisingly, uses a sonic machine that's emitting waves that cause the shadow creatures to stop attacking temporarily, E-38 Clark and Kara frozen in shock at seeing him, as he smiles smarmily at them and tells them, "Hurry up, I can't save you for very long with this!" Kate reacts quickly and manages to grab Bruce, just in time to escape as the earth collapses in on itself, every one of the team following suit.

Now, DM Bruce lay dying, the damage from the shadow creatures causing his body to fail. Gideon explains that it'd need a near perfect genetic match of Bruce to transfer non shadow creature damaged DNA, which would cause the one who transferred it to die in cellular degradation. KC Bruce stops E1 Bruce before he volunteers and takes the hit, explaining that he's lost his way and to tell DM Bruce thank you for showing him what it means to be Batman again, that it's not about punishing the guilty, but about preserving the innocence of those who are defenseless. The process starts and it heals DM Bruce, as KC Bruce dies. Kate cries in a mixture of grief and relief as DM Bruce wakes up, and she gives him the thanks, as well as from herself and E1 Bruce does so as well. Gideon does maintain that DM Bruce stay in sick bay, when he tries to get back to the fight. Kate and E1 that they can be enough Bat for now.

Meanwhile E-38 Clark and Kara throw Lex up against the wall, and angrily interrogates him about what he has to do with this. Lex remains cavalier about the situation, snarkily asking them if they can't handle it when he shows them that he's the hero. Kara and Clark's eyes glow with heat vision energy, before they reel themselves in, releasing him. Brandon Routh Superman asks him how he was able to stop those shadow creatures. Lex replying with, "Oh, another one. Delightful. At least this one has manners." Further explaining that it didn't stop them, but held them off temporarily by blocking the signal of whatever was controlling them. They question that, much to Lex's amusement, him outloud stating, "It's a good thing the Monitor brought me into this. Obviously, none of you are equipped with the brainpower to save humanity." Lex looks to E-38 Clark, saying, "It's gonna be fun working together again, don't you think?" Much to Clark's scowling.

The team are then alerted to the waverider jumping to one of the next earths that's to be wiped out. The waverider jumps.

Sara then calls the whole team to the control room, everyone rushing to it. Barry and the rest are met with the horror that Earth 1 is one of the next earths to be engulfed in the antimatter wave. Pariah appears, and begins laughing. Barry reacts furiously to this, grabbing him and asking him what he finds funny. Pariah explains that when he released the Anti-Monitor, he was promised that when this time came, he would get to do the damage. Barry slowly begins to realize what he's saying, as Pariah's eyes glow red and he superspeeds around the waverider cockpit, knocking everyone off their feet. Eobard Thawne stands over a shocked Barry in full Reverse Flash garb and says that their crisis has come.

TO BE CONTINUED...

END OF PART TWO.

Please review and tell me what you think!

[perspective-series]

Injured Perspective (3/12)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Sickness

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

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 A lot of thoughts swirled around Virgil’s head as he headed towards Logan’s place. He needed his friend to help him sort this all out. Not that he was going to tell Logan about Roman. Not yet, at least. Not until Virgil made his decision of whether or not to go back. Still though, it would be nice to have a chat with his logical friend. Even if they weren’t talking about the subject matter, being near Logan helped him think more calmly.

 As he entered Logan’s area, he called out. “Logan? You here?”

“Hmm?” Logan looked up from his spot at the dining table, fashioned from an old human spectacles case. “Oh, hello Virgil. What brings you to the lower apartments?”

 “Just thought I’d visit.” Virgil said with a shrug. He fidgeted with the end of poncho a little bit before forcing himself to still. “Whatcha up to?”

“Not much.” Logan said, adjusting his glasses and letting out a yawn. “I meant to go borrowing earlier, but my energy levels have been less than ideal.”

 Virgil gave him a raised eyebrow as he sat down on a spool of thread. “Did you get enough sleep last night?” Virgil asked with concern.

“I had trouble sleeping.” Logan admitted. “It has just been unusually warm in here lately, even for mid-June.”

 “Really? I’ve felt fine though.” Virgil hummed. “You sure you’re okay? Do you need me to borrow anything for you?”

“I think I’ll be alright.” Logan assured him, rubbing at his nose. “I have a few preserves. My head feels a bit cloudy, but that’s likely from the lack of sleep and not consuming enough water.”

 “Well, just don’t...overwork yourself. I know you tend to do that.” Against Virgil’s wishes. Virgil was worried but he trusted Logan when he said he was alright. So, he let the subject drop for now.

 “So, apparently the human on the fifth floor came back tonight. Broke his leg. Won’t be leaving the bed for the next couple of days.” Virgil relayed the information.

“That seems fortunate.” Logan observed, sniffling slightly as he said so. “Borrowing will certainly be easier for you.”

 “Yeah, true.” Virgil frowned. “It’s just kind of weird to see. A human practically trapped in his own bed. Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

“You’ve observed him already?” Logan tilted his head. “Were you seen?”

 “Of course not.” Virgil lied, feeling guilty but pushing those feelings away. “I was going to grab one last thing but ended up watching the human for a bit instead.” He shrugged.

“Hmm.” Logan swayed slightly in his seat, the dots not quite connecting in his mind. “That’s...odd.”

 “What? Why?” Don’t tell him Logan was catching on.

“I don’t know, it just...doesn’t make sense.” Logan groaned, leaning forwards and resting his forehead in his palms. “Are you sure you don’t feel hot? My skin feels as though it might burn any moment.”

 Virgil blinked and looked at Logan with even more worry. “That isn’t good. Dude, I think you might be sick.” That was never good. Being a borrower, you barely got sick but if or when you did? It was never good.

“What?” Logan’s voice sounded a bit raspy now, and as he paid attention now his throat felt like it was made of sandpaper. “I’m not sick.”

 “Oh, this isn’t good.” Virgil started to pace in worry, completely ignoring Logan’s denial. “This isn’t good, we-we need to find you medicine or something.”

“Virgil, I will be fine.” Logan, despite his words, didn’t stop clutching his head. “I just need to rest and get plenty of fluids. My body will heal on its own.”

 “A-Are you sure? Because I can go borrow something.” Virgil offered. He didn’t know what to get but he’d figure it out.

Logan shook his head, vaguely noting how the room shook as he did so. Did it always do that?

“I’ll be alright.” Logan slowly stood to his feet. “I’ll head to bed right now if it will ease you.” Frankly, the idea of bed was sounding rather appealing.

 “You better.” Virgil bit his lip. “I’ll let you rest but I’m coming back later to check up on you. So you better actually be resting.” 

Logan felt a shiver overcome him for a brief second. “I am certain I shall be asleep. Upon further evaluation I feel...quite exhausted.”

 “Okay…” Virgil looked at Logan. “Do you need help getting into bed?”

“Perhaps.” Logan stood in the middle of his living quarters, staring blankly at the wall. “Am I not moving?”

 “Oh geez.” Virgil went over to Logan, helping him and slowly moving him over to his mesh of blankets. He carefully set him down in them. “There we go, easy does it.”

Logan mumbled out something resembling a thank-you, his eyelids already drooping as he was guided into bed.

 “Get some rest L. I’ll be back later.” Virgil turned and left, walking through the walls once again. He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. Logan getting sick wasn’t good. They weren’t prepared for this. Borrowers didn’t get sick, humans did.

 ...Wait. Humans got sick.

 And he happened to know a human.

 Virgil frowned. He couldn’t believe he was considering it but...if it meant Logan getting better then Virgil would have to take the chance. Of course, he’d also have to be careful. He still didn’t want to reveal Logan to Roman, after all.

 But he could...probably do this. 

 With a sigh, Virgil started on his way back up to the fifth floor apartment.

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

 Virgil found himself back on the dresser the next night. He would have been here sooner but...well, he had still been debating with himself if this was even a good idea or not. He still wasn’t sure but if it meant helping Logan then he was willing to give it a try. At least he knew Roman still couldn’t get to him. That was another reason why he waited. He wanted to make sure the other human, Patton, wouldn’t walk in on them. 

 He looked at Roman but he couldn’t tell if the human was actually sleeping or not. Not after the last two times. So, after a lot of hesitation, and inner thoughts of how he couldn’t believe he was actually doing this, he called out the the human. “R-Roman?” His voice was still quiet, wanting to test first to see if Roman was awake already.

“Virgil?” Roman’s own voice was sleepy, but at the quiet sound his eyes had shot open. Roman had almost fallen asleep waiting for Virgil to come. Roman smiled, waking up as he stared at the tiny person from across the room. “I was beginning to doubt you’d make an appearance tonight.”

 “Yeah, well...I figured it, uh, couldn’t hurt.” He lied, knowing it very much could. He wanted to ask his questions and be done with it already but he knew he had to ease into this, lest Roman get suspicious.

“I’m glad.” Roman slowly sat up. “It’s good to see you again.”

 “I’d say the same but...then I’d be lying.” Virgil spoke with a shrug and a slight smirk. 

Roman’s face furrowed in confusion. “So, if you’re not here for my beautiful complexion, why are you back?”

 “Well, someone practically begged me to come back, so I figured I would give you the pleasure to see me again.” Virgil shrugged. He still couldn’t believe he was teasing this human but it was kind of...nice. Fun, even.

“If you say so.” Roman chuckled. Frankly it didn’t really matter why Virgil came back; all that mattered was that he came back at all.

 “So…” Virgil was unsure how to bring this up without screaming, hey, my friend is sick how do I help him? “Leg still...broken?” He winced at his own words.

Roman gave him a weird look. “Ah, yes, my leg is certainly still broken. Spent all day in bed lamenting about it. What did you do today, Virgil?”

 Virgil shrugged. “I went on a walk.” And worried a lot, about Logan and about this conversation but he didn’t feel the need to mention that. “Nothing much. My life is pretty boring.”

 “Well I’m sure it’s more exciting than you let on.” Roman insisted. “Besides, even if that’s all you did, your life would still be more exciting than mine right now.” Well, that wasn’t entirely true; Roman’s life had become pretty exciting with the discovery of a tiny person, but in this instance Roman didn’t think that counted.

 “Maybe.” Virgil said with a slight hum. “So, this whole, you stuck in bed thing had me curious about other reasons why you would be stuck in bed. Like, when you guys are...sick? Sick, right?” Virgil said, hoping his mask of not knowing was sickness was was believable.

“What do you mean?” Roman tilted his head. “Are you asking if humans get bedridden from illness as well? Occasionally yes, but it depends on the severity and the affliction.”

 “Oh, well, I meant more just being sick in...general? I don’t get sick, so I don’t know what happens.” Virgil continued to lie. 

“You don’t get sick?” Roman huffed in jealousy. “You’re very fortunate, then. I know for myself even the common cold will just take me out. Patton has to take care of me, he’s such a lamb. Makes me soup and everything.”

 “Soup? What’s that? Does it fix your sickness?” If it did, he’s have to figure out a way to get his hands on some.

“No, not exactly.” Roman admitted. “It just helps the process along because your body needs energy to fight off the sickness and that’s one of the easiest foods to stomach. Not to mention the warmth is so soothing, ugh when I get sick I get the worst bouts of shivering and fevers combined. It’s miserable.”

 “So...being warm helps you get better?” Virgil asked, still trying very with this whole charade but also wanting to get as much information as possible.

“I’m not sure, actually.” Roman rested his chin on his palm. “I know you bundle under blankets when you’re sick and drink soup, but I don’t know if that actually helps you get better or just helps you feel better in the current moment. Maybe a bit of both.”

 “Oh, well...what does help you get better then? That you know for sure.” He hoped he was still conveying  curiosity and not desperation or anything of the like. 

“Medicine usually.” Roman thought about it. “Sometimes Antibiotics. Then of course you have to get plenty of rest, drink many fluids, eat food, that sort of stuff. Just generally take care of yourself so your body can take care of the virus. At least that’s what Patton says…” Roman’s gaze suddenly narrowed. “...unless he’s just trying to trick me into taking care of myself.”

 “Okay…” The simply taking care of yourself part was fairly easy. Virgil would just have to borrow food and water for Logan but the medicine… “Where can I find medicine?” He asked, not yet realizing how that might give him away.

Roman looked at him for a moment. “I thought you said you didn’t get sick.”

 Virgil blinked. Crap. “I-I don’t. I’m just...curious.” Welp, he messed everything up. Good going Virgil.

“Virgil, do you need medicine?” Roman gave Virgil a worried look. Virgil certainly didn’t look sick, but he could be hiding it. Or perhaps he needed it for somebody else instead. “If you do, all you needed to do was ask. I would happily supply you with some.”

 That sounded...great, actually. But Virgil was still caught up in not letting Roman know he was lying. “I don’t need medicine. I told you, borrowers don’t get sick.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.” Roman certainly didn’t want to push the issue further, hoping that Virgil would just come to him if he ever did have a need. Instead, his immediate attention was diverted elsewhere. “...Virgil, can I ask you something?”

 Virgil tensed. “Wh-What?”

“What’s a borrower?”

 There was beat of silence as Virgil processed what Roman had asked before his eyes went wide. It was in that moment he realized how much he had messed up. “N-Nothing! I didn’t say that, I...I uh…” Virgil racked his brain for an excuse but none came to him.

“You seem to be keeping a lot of secrets…” Roman murmured, not entirely aware he spoke out loud.

 “No I’m-” Virgil cut himself off, realizing it was useless. So instead, he glared at the human. “Okay, so maybe I am! So what? I’m keeping them for my own safety!”

 Virgil sighed, running a hand down his face. “This was a mistake.” Virgil turned to leave.

“Wait!” Roman said hurriedly, sitting up straighter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you Virgil. I won’t ask any more questions.”

 Virgil paused. Ugh, he really should just leave. But...the medicine… “Can someone get better without taking medicine?” Virgil asked, still facing away from Roman.

“...it depends on how sick they are.” Roman’s voice was filled with concern. “Virgil, please just let me help you!”

 “I don’t need help from a human!” Virgil yelled at him and with that, he left before he could reveal anything else.

“Virgil, wait!” Roman cried out, wishing he was healed so he could rush over to the dresser. “I- I know you don’t, but- I- come back!”

Of course, as Roman rambled on and on, none of it mattered, because Virgil was gone.

[dyonisia96]

Could you write something about the relationship between Sans and Undyne? Not like a ship or anything but like how they’re friends through Papyrus? Thanks :))

That’s a nice prompt! :D 

Thanks for leaving it, I hope you will like what I came up with. 

Some context: this is all set after Gaster’s death, Papyrus doesn’t remember about him, and Sans is still battered from the experience. Undyne gets stuck in all this. 

I never wrote from Undyne’s point of view, it was interesting.

Sorry for any mistakes, English isn’t my first language and sometimes you’ll see weird wording or phrasing, even though I check and correct what I write before posting. 

---

Writing request #1

Thanks for punching by

Undyne stopped in front of the door and knocked insistently. She didn’t have time for this. Why did Papyrus have to forget something at her house every time they trained together?

Undyne had started to think he did it on purpose, just to have an excuse to come by again and pass time together.

Not that Undyne minded him. Papyrus had a lot of passion for what he did and she admired him for that. She liked his company. The only problem was that she didn’t have enough time to fill the social void in his life all by herself.

So, that day, Undyne had decided to bring back the cooking apron Papyrus had ‘forgotten’ on her sofa by herself, so he wouldn’t interrupt her shift later on.

 - Papyrus? - Undyne called, knocking with more energy.

The door squeaked out of protest, loosing small shards of wood with every hit.

 - Papyrus, are you in there? Come on, I don’t have all day!

The door opened and Undyne’s fist plunged forward. She was barely able to keep herself from going full strength, before meeting a smooth, fragile cranium.

The unfortunate victim crumpled under her hit and ended up on the floor. He didn’t even have the time to make a sound.

 - Oh, fuck.

It was a small skeleton, barely high enough to reach her hips, and she had definitely put him KO.

Since there weren’t any other skeleton monsters of whom Undyne knew about in the Underground, that had to be Papyrus’s brother, Sans.

 - Oh, fuck.

Sans, the 1 HP guy who was going to die if someone stared at him in the wrong way.

 - Oh, fuck.

Undyne knelt by the small skeleton’s side, unsure about what to do. 

She could already imagine herself in a dark cell, being charged for murder, with Papyrus yelling at her “HOW COULD YOU?”.

Undyne shook her head and put a hand on Sans’s shoulder, shaking as gently as she could. The small skeleton stayed limp for the longest seconds Undyne had ever experienced in her life, before slowly opening his eye sockets.

He blinked a few times and he gave a weird look at the ceiling, unsure of what it was doing up there.

Undyne sighed in relief, almost melting on the ground. He wasn’t going to turn to dust anytime soon.

 - did i just get punched by the captain of the royal guard? - Sans whispered, with a foggy chuckle. - i feel honored and flattered… or maybe flattened is more correct. like a pancake.

 - I’m s… hng… ack…

 - sorry?

 - Yeah. 

She had always had trouble with that word. For some reason, Sans seemed amused by it, even as he was massaging the top of his aching cranium.

 - I didn’t mean to hit you, - Undyne said, putting the apron she had was holding on the moquette. - Does it hurt a lot?

 - ’s nothin’ too bad, my hp is all there. i guess ya didn’t have any bad intent, - Sans whispered, with a smile. - but still, if this got out, it would ruin your reputation. maybe ya should pay me to shut me up. what about fifty g?

Undyne’s jaw dropped. Was he serious? 

It was difficult to understand.

Even though Papyrus himself had a cheery smile plastered on his face most of the time and Undyne didn’t mind that, she found Sans’s smile extremely irritating.

 - ah, don’t make that face. i’m just jokin’ with ya. from what paps told me ‘bout you, i got that ya don’t have a sense of humor, but i didn’t think it was this bad.

Undyne gritted her teeth and Sans lifted his hands in the air.

 - still jokin’! don’t get mad! ’s jussa joke. geez…

An awkward silence fell in the living room. 

A cold breeze came through the open door and Sans’s bones rattled softly. The noise was muffled by the several layers of sweaters he was wearing. They made him look strangely plump, so different from Papyrus, tall and lanky.

 - ’s kinda chilly outside. what about a hot dog? i was about to have lunch.

 - Lunch? - Undyne repeated, getting up. - It’s four in the afternoon.

 - really?

Sans frowned and looked at the clock above the tv. 

 - oh. it really is four o’ clock. hm. i musta lost track of time. then, what about havin’ a hot dog as a snack? ’s perfect for every meal anyway.

Undyne’s eyebrows narrowed, but she nodded, rolling with it. She just wanted to give him the apron and start her shift. She couldn’t give the bad example and be late.

Sans got up as well and he wobbled, his eye lights flickering.

Undyne grasped him by the shoulder to anchor him to the ground.

 - ‘m fine, mighty captain, - Sans mumbled, pushing her hand away. 

His fingers were so small. Both of his hands were barely able to wrap around one of hers.

Undyne had her doubts about him being fine, and she steadied him until he gained back his equilibrium. 

Sans smiled to her and made her sign to follow him, dragging his slippers on the ground. Were they shaped like… kittens?

Well, maybe he and Papyrus didn’t look very much alike, but they shared the same sense of fashion.

Undyne awkwardly sat on one of the chairs and put the apron on the table, where she was sure Papyrus was going to find it. For some reason, she had the feeling Sans was the kind of guy who was going to forget it somewhere and lose it forever.

The small skeleton turned on the microwave, his eye lights following hungrily the two hot dogs spinning inside.

 - Actually, I don’t have a lot of time, - Undyne said, nervously tapping a foot on the floor.

 - there’s always time for a ‘dog.

 - ‘dog?

 - ’s how i call them.

Undyne decided it was better not to investigate.

 - Seriously, I should go.

The microwave stopped and Sans put the hot dogs on two plates. He carried them to the table and sat in front of Undyne. His slippers dangled from the chair. They were definitely too big for his feet, but he didn’t seem to care.

Much to Undyne’s horror, he put ten different kinds of ketchup in front of her.

 - this one is spicy, this one is mild, this one tastes really nice, this one…

 - Sans, I’m the captain, I have to—

 - … and this, i think this is the best. why don’t ya try it? 

Even though she didn’t ask for it, Sans took the ketchup bottle and pressed it. A wave of ketchup came out of it and entirely covered her hot dog.

 - oh. i wonder why that always happens. are these things cursed?

Sans looked inside the bottle, now empty.

Undyne sighed.

 - Sans, I have to—

 - know what? ya can have my ‘dog. i’ll make another one. we have a bag of these in the back anyway.

 - No! Sans, I don’t want any ‘do- I mean, hot dogs! I need to get to work. I don’t have time for these things!

Sans stopped in front of the microwave. Just for a moment, something unsettling shone through his smile. But it was gone so fast Undyne couldn’t look further into it.

 - yea, sorry. i got carried away. i didn’t mean to bother ya.

Undyne felt a weight on her stomach, as if an invisible hand had just grabbed it. Why was she feeling guilty? She didn’t have time for that.

Suddenly, she remembered about something Papyrus had told her, between all his raving about how cool his brother was. 

“HE’S BEEN WEIRD, RECENTLY. I’M PRETTY SURE HE USED TO HAVE A JOB, BUT… HE JUST STAYS AT HOME, NOW. ALL THE TIME. AND HE DOESN’T SEE ANYONE. I’M WORRIED ABOUT HIM, UNDYNE. I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED. THINGS WERE JUST FINE UNTIL A FEW WEEKS AGO.”

Undyne had shrugged off Sans’s behavior as lack of passion, since Papyrus had always said Sans was content leading a simple life, without pursuing any dream. But right then, Undyne had the impression there was something else behind it.

She couldn’t understand what it was or why, but Sans wasn’t just lazy.

He looked worn, like someone who was recovering from a bad illness.

Undyne followed Sans in the living room. He was waiting for her at the door, his hands buried deep in his sweatpants. He was slightly hunched, an invisible weight pressing on his neck.

Undyne felt bad on a whole other level for the hit she had given him before.

 - see ya, then, - Sans said, winking at her. - sorry for the ketchup tsunami. usually i prank paps with a fake bottle, but this was unplanned. - He looked down and scratched the back of his skull. - i’ll tell him ya came by. if ya wanna talk to him though, he’s somewhere in the forest, buildin’ puzzles.

 - I’m not angry about the hot dog, - Undyne said, looking nervously at her phone. It was late late now, but… 

 - Listen, um. What if I prepare some food?

Sans looked at her.

 - but you have work to do.

 - Yeah, I know. My work is to help the inhabitants of the Underground. So I might as well help you. I can always make a few calls. Today is a boring day anyway. No worrying reports.

The small skeleton was even more confused.

 - i appreciate it, but ya don’t hafta, - he said, giving her a smile. - i’m okay. i’ll eat the ‘dog and go to sleep. i’d bore ya to death anyway, all ya would do is watch me while i’m snorin’. i’m fine, undyne. really. go save the world one piece of sushi at a time.

Before Undyne could say anything else, Sans waved a hand and closed the door, leaving her to stand in the porch.

Undyne hesitated for a moment, but then she went on her way, her arms crossed on her chest. 

She had to go home and put on her armor, and she was late, really late, but she didn’t find it as urgent as before.

There was something wrong with Sans. Really wrong. And now she understood why Papyrus was so worried about him.

[shortcakemonster]

Go-Away Green pt. 9

Summary: You try to fix everything you messed up, but you get caught up in wondering if you should.

TW: Some dark thoughts in this one, more than usual for this fic.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10

Peter went back to class in a weird kind of haze. First off, he’d woken up, more or less, in an alley, dressed in his Spider-Man suit. With his mask partially off. And a random man he didn’t recognize webbed to the ground.

He’d had to ask Karen who the man was; Reuben Holt, the leader of a human trafficking ring, the associates of whom Peter had taken out the day before. He vaguely remembered being on the ship, diving into the ocean for some unknown reason...

For the life of him, he couldn’t remember how he’d managed to track this individual criminal down and capture him. Had he seen him on the ship the day before? He’d have to go through Karen’s footage to find out.

Or had Holt merely been trying to abduct someone when Peter found him, and this superhero’s arrest had happened almost out of pure chance? If that was the case, then where was the victim? They were close to Midtown- had Holt tried to abduct a teenager? The thought made Peter shudder.

He wasn’t given much time to contemplate all of this, as soon enough, a black van pulled up to the entrance of the alley and a half dozen people in black suits spilled out. Happy emerged from the passenger’s seat to briefly thank Peter for catching Holt and assure him that they’d have more information soon. After Peter dissolved the web fluid, Happy’s associates made quick work of restraining him and depositing him into the van before speeding away.

After realizing that school was starting soon, Peter went into autopilot and found his regular clothes, changing into them before heading to his first class. Going about this often-exercised routine on this particular day took about twice the time that it normally did, making him late to physics.

He all but lumbered into class, ignoring his teacher’s passive-aggressive remark about punctuality before making his way over to his desk. He couldn’t focus on the lecture at hand, and not because of his preoccupation with Reuben Holt, but because of a strange, indeterminate sensation slowly creeping up on him, spreading over his skin.

A warmth in his hand. Soft skin, fingers clutching his.

He furrowed his eyebrows. When was the last time he’d held somebody’s hand? And who had it been? Peter balled his hand into a fist, trying to remember the feeling.

Whatever it was, it masked over the subconscious suspicion that somebody was watching him. Occasionally, the feeling would bob to the surface, and Peter would look up to locate the source, until an odd forgetfulness drifted over him and he returned to his previous thoughts.

Ned approached him in the hallway between classes. “Are you okay? You seem really out of it.”

How could Peter even explain the feeling? He couldn’t focus, there were strange gaps in his recent memory... Was this the work of one of Holt’s associates? How had they accomplished it? Or was Peter losing his super senses?

He tried to put it into words that Ned (the best friend, not the guy in the chair) could comprehend. “I feel like I’m forgetting something really important.” Hell, that was all that Peter could comprehend, for the time being.

“Homework?” Ned suggested.

“No.”

“Is it May’s birthday, or something?”

“No, it’s not that.”

“The Stark internship?”

Peter shook his head, despite the two matters being partially related. “No. Well... I- I was in an alley before school started, with the suit on, and I can’t remember what I was doing there. There was just this guy lying on the ground, all webbed up. So I had to have taken him out, but I don’t remember doing that at all. On top of that, apparently he’s the leader of a human trafficking ring, which I helped take down yesterday on a freaking cargo ship, but I barely remember any of this! And I can’t- I can’t...” He mad vague gestures with his hands, as if they would help him find the right words. “There’s something else, I think. Something unrelated to all of this, I just... I’m missing something really big, here.” He curled and uncurled his fingers in a claw shape, that weird, empty-yet-full feeling still plaguing his hand.

Ned was, by nature, a very smart person, as well as Peter Parker’s best and most loyal companion in life. Regardless, he couldn’t quite absorb and decipher everything that his best friend had said. “Look, I’m sure if it was anything major, your senses would alert you, wouldn’t they?”

Peter shrugged. That was about a substantial answer as he could expect from anyone, for the time being. He decided he wouldn’t tell Ned about the feeling of being watched, he didn’t want to worry his best friend, especially if there wasn’t really any evidence in relation to the matter.

He had no choice but to continue his school day as usual, trying to look as normal as possible while obsessing over Reuben Holt and that weird feeling in my hand what is it doing.

Come lunch time, Peter got a call from Mr. Stark and excused himself from the table to go answer it. If it was more information on Reuben Holt, or if he could pick the billionaire’s brain for possible reasons as to why he was feeling so strange, then he was all for it.

In typical Stark fashion, Tony didn’t even let Peter get out a polite “hello” before diving into the topic at hand. “Hey, kid. Hate to interrupt you during your education, but I thought you should know that we got that captain guy in our custody, now. Sent the info to your suit, if you wanna look more into it.”

“Reuben Holt?”

“The very one. He was pretty out of it, but I guess that was (Y/N)’s doing. How’s she holding up, by the way?”

(Y/N)!

Peter felt himself light up with recognition. He smacked his forehead at the realization, disbelieving at the idea that he could forget you so easily. Hadn’t you talked, earlier that day?

He let your name fall softly from his lips, and that was his undoing.

An overwhelming mental tidal wave washed over him, making him slightly dizzy. The hand on his forehead was now being used to steady himself, keep himself grounded in reality. He couldn’t even remember what he’d been talking about. He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to clear his mind. “Who?”

A pause came from the other end. “(Y/N)?”

Another wave; it was like he forgot the name the very instant that he heard it. Repeating the name to himself didn’t do any good, as it just started to sound like a weird jumbling of letters that didn’t belong on his tongue. 

“Mr. Stark, I’m not sure who you’re talking about.”

“You introduced me to her two days ago,” Tony explained. “Super shy, powers of invisibility? Is this really not ringing a bell?”

And for one second, he had a perfect image of you standing before him. (Y/E/C) eyes. (Y/H/C) hair. A faint, but genuine smile. A soft hand holding his.

But then, a tsunami of mental weakening. And with it, several aftershocks.

Peter felt like he was going to pass out. He collapsed against the lockers, trying to steel himself against the sensation. Was that why this was happening? Was he sick? He hadn’t gotten as much as a cold since the spider bite.

“I don’t know anybody who can turn invisible, Mr. Stark,” he barely managed to gasp out. “I think I’d remember that.”

There was a moment of silence, which Peter used to try and gather his quickly disintegrating thoughts together, then-

“You know, I barely got any sleep, last night. I’m probably mixing some stuff up.”

Peter let out a sigh of relief. He couldn’t even remember half of what Mr. Stark had said during the conversation, he was just glad that it was over, that he wouldn’t have to use his mental energy for anything other than trying to piece his memories back into place.

“Yeah, okay. Feel better, Mr. Stark.”

Another pause. “Thanks, kid. Good job on today. Bye.”

Night fell early over Queens, as was customary for the season. You’d exhausted yourself by trying to make everyone at school forget about you. On the surface, it didn’t seem like too difficult a task, as there was only a handful of people at school who even knew your name, let alone had any substantial memory of you. Sure, everyone at school was very smart, but the challenge was lost due to a lack of attachment to you.

But then there was Peter. Much smarter and much more attached to you than... well, anyone else you’d ever known, at least recently.

You hadn’t expected it to work so well. Factoring in his super senses, you thought that Peter would immediately pick up on your efforts. After all, his senses were what had gotten you in trouble in the first place. In this instance, you supposed that your powers were stronger than his, and for his sake, you would have to use them.

Neither of you were truly safe, anymore. Not with each other. A human trafficker had come after you, and that was indeed terrifying. But even more terrifying than that was what he’d intended to you with you.

Be a good girl, and you won’t get hurt. At least, not yet. We gotta get our information somehow, don’t we?

More likely than not, he would have used any means necessary to get information from you, and you had no doubt that the information in question would have to do with Spider-Man and his identity. And yes, you probably would have been able to get yourself out of the situation, given your powers. If you were desperate enough, your abilities could have worked in your favor.

But, still...

Before all this, your powers had been focused on keeping yourself in the shadows, keeping people away from you, protecting yourself. None of that mattered as much as protecting Peter.

That was what this really came down to. That was how your powers worked. When you really, truly needed to accomplish something, your powers always came into play. The boy at Delmar’s. The woman in the alley. The people in the shipping container.

And now, Peter.

Peter Parker didn’t think things through. He was vastly intelligent, sure, but his heart pretty much always ruled over his head. For his sake, you had to favor your head over your heart.

But boy, did it suck.

You’d only had a few days of friendship and attention before it was stripped away from you. Alright, you’d technically taken it away from yourself, and you had all the power in the world to restore things back to the way they’d been before, but of course, there was the issue of keeping Peter safe.

And besides, this was what you deserved, wasn’t it? He was better off without you, anyway.

Wholly invisible, you slowly opened the door to your apartment, ever careful not to make any noise as you entered. You were startled slightly when you saw your parents standing across from each other in the living room. Your heartbeat spiked when you saw your mom crying, until you saw the small, plastic device in your dad’s hand, and that he was crying, too.

You felt time stand still, all the oxygen leaving your lungs.

Your mother was pregnant.

As a child, you’d occasionally wish for a sibling, dreamed of your parents paying attention to someone other than you. You’d go to sleep at night, imagining your parents sitting you down and giving you the obligatory talk about how Even Though We’ll Have To Give A Lot Of Attention To The New Baby, It Doesn’t Mean We Love You Any Less. You’d seen that conversation on multiple kids’ shows. You’d heard your young classmates discuss it with their friends at school. 

That conversation was your childhood fantasy, and sometimes you would imagine being sandwiched between two other siblings, of being the infamous Middle Child, never getting any attention from your parents because they were too busy with their other children.

But now, in this particular circumstance, the news made your stomach sink.

You don’t matter, anymore. You never did.

For what seemed like the millionth time in only a few days, you felt a lump developing in your throat, the familiar tremble of your lips as tears began to form in your eyes. You covered your mouth with your hand in an attempt to hide a pathetic sob, but the noise prevailed in spite of your effort.

Your parents didn’t notice.

Which was what you wanted, wasn’t it? Wasn’t this your dream come true? 

Your dad hoisted your mom up by the waist and kissed her, then carried her into their bedroom. She laughed the whole way.

You stared wistfully as the bedroom door shut, the noise snapping you out of your daze. Eventually, you willed your legs to move and approached the doorway of your own room. The thought of this room being converted into a nursery briefly passed through your mind as you opened your window. You’d probably have to clear out your stuff to stifle any risk of your parents remembering you. They clearly had bigger things to worry about now, and you couldn’t get in their way.

You climbed out the window and onto the fire escape, noticing how much more difficult it was to accomplish this task when you couldn’t see yourself. The last time you’d done this, you’d merely been flickering.

You made the trek up the stairs to the rooftop, heaving yourself over the side and landing on the concrete. You lay there for a second, staring up at the night sky. The light pollution of the city often made it difficult to observe the moon and the stars in clearer detail, but they weren’t impossible to see. You liked how small the sky made you feel. At least, you used to.

You sat up and crossed your legs, staring at the neighborhood below. The perpetual state of traffic clogging up the streets, the pedestrians knocking into one another, the alleyway where only days ago you’d helped to rescue that woman.

Where Peter rescued that woman. Period.

You sighed, trying to suppress another bout of crying. It wasn’t like anyone would hear you up on the roof, and even if they did, they would be powerless to your ability to make them forget about anything you said or did.

How do you expect to survive the rest of your life without talking to people?

I don’t!

So, this was where you were, now. Your dream scenario. No connections, no relationships, no nothing. You’d perfected your “mind control” abilities, whatever the hell they ever were, and now there was literally nobody on the planet who could even think about you ever again, let alone care about you.

A choked sob emerged from your mouth, accompanied by a brief flicker to your form. You blinked on and off, like a shorting out lightbulb.

God, what’s wrong with me?!

Your conflicted thoughts were answered much sooner and in a much more literal sense that you’d expected, as a sudden sound of whirring machinery- almost like some sort of flying metal suit- suggested that you might have missed a few people in your efforts of self-erasure.

“Hey, there, Invisi-Kid. You got a second to talk?”

Tag list:

@1enchantedfantasy1 @11mb0 @3003st @aubreylovesthegames @bookchic20@catnolannn @embracethemagic @gladerofcabin4 @greenarrowhead   @hawaiiantozier @honestlysasha @ivykinsnake @justapotatonow @lucille-lovely @maybesomeday @meyrapp @myhealingstar @satansladydoor  @soullesstrashcan @southsidejournal  @stone2576 @thekidsofneibolt @timelordy-fangirl2 @uwu-sebastianstan @wicked-wiccan-witch @dat-one-goat @eye-of-the-owl @qandnoablog @millennialpinksimblr  @speckles-s @cartwheelandfaceplant @the-spidey-dork @spider-stud@meashy-moo @boogie-woogie-wooogie @be-more-heidi-hansen @cartwheelandfaceplant @khaleesiclifford @veryhealthyobsessions

[pokemon-channel]

☆—Spread the Love! | Valentines Mix-up

DJ Ben stretches out in his chair, yawning silently to himself.  The Delibirds flew out just a few hours prior, and he feels nothing but utmost confidence in them.  He’d never bring it up to Mary, but he still can’t believe how the messages managed to get mixed up for three years running.  He’s determined to make this Valentine’s Day go as smoothly as possible.  Delibird are known for their innate delivery skills.  How could anything go wrong?

Ben’s going to show Mary that letting him take the reigns of this event wasn’t a mistake.  Everything was going to go right this year!  He has a good feeling about these Delibird as they return, one-by-one, to the Radio Tower.  Passing around nicely-decorated Pokepuffs to each obedient Delibird as reward, DJ Ben can’t help but feel all too pleased with himself about the event.

Such a shame he mixed the Delibirds up on their way out.

What DJ Ben brings to you, under the cut, is a tragic tale of woe.  Each Valentine has been preserved in its original state.  None of the people who actually received each Valentine were the intended recipients.

To further add to the confusion, each Valentine was randomized three separate times along with their sender counterparts.  Thanks to the based RNG gods, some people received quite the coincidental string of Valentines…

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo WHO RECEIVED IT: Green CONTENTS: A Love Ball with candy inside. “You like pink stuff right? Some guy I know from Johto gave it to me."

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Anzu CONTENTS: A fresh and new store bought cape for Silver. “I look forward to where you’re going in life.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anzu WHO RECEIVED IT: Draze CONTENTS:  A pastel pink card with “Happy Galentine’s Day” written on the front. The message inside reads “Thanks for being a good friend. If you ever need a favor or maybe just somebody to rough up a bunch of weirdos for you, you know who to call ;) -Anzu P.S. This is from my kid sister.” A colorful drawing of Alice wearing one of her iconic stage costumes is included on a separate sheet of paper, signed by Yuzu in the corner. There is also a small bag containing some homemade cookies from her.

VALENTINE SENT BY: Quentin WHO RECEIVED IT: Lance CONTENTS:  Dear Q, Roses are red I don’t want to boast But you’re pretty cool And smarter than most! ~Q P.S. Self-love is important.

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Ethan CONTENTS:  A collection of old candies that Clair and Lance used to eat with a note that says “I remember you liking these old candies. Here’s hoping you still do."

VALENTINE SENT BY: Quentin WHO RECEIVED IT: Daigo CONTENTS:   Dear Katlyn, Roses are red Your music is fine Your drumming Lucario Is cooler than mine. ~Q

VALENTINE SENT BY: Quentin WHO RECEIVED IT: Alice CONTENTS:   Dear Claudia, Roses are red Fermata’s a jerk Your dancing is cool But will this rhyme work? ~Q

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Giovanni CONTENTS: A teddy bear for Kris. “I’ve heard of your success with the Gym Challenge! The Elite 4 welcome your challenge any time.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty WHO RECEIVED IT: Katlyn CONTENTS:  “Remember that old house in the forest? I found this up when we were there and I only came across it when I did some cleaning recently. -Morty”. Inside a gift box is a shining Dragon Fang, almost like it had been polished recently.

VALENTINE SENT BY: Moros WHO RECEIVED IT: Jac CONTENTS:  A basket full of Valentine-related things in a very particular shade of bright pink. There are several roses, a few handfuls of foil-wrapped chocolate hearts, a big bag of heart-shaped gummies, and one large, very soft Luvdisc plush. There’s no card, just a tag that says, ‘TO: Lovrina FROM: M’

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anonymous WHO RECEIVED IT: Lovrina CONTENTS: With an image of a beautiful Alolan sunset on the horizon, the inside is a more explosive scene—of glitter! Enjoy that mess.

The loving message to go with it?

“Fuck you buddy.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anzu WHO RECEIVED IT: Claudia CONTENTS: A piece of paper with the following written in pen: “I hate your stinking guts! You make me vomit. You’re scum between my toes. -Anzu”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Quentin WHO RECEIVED IT: Clair CONTENTS: Dear Daigo, Roses are red I wrote this with passion but what I can’t give you Is a new sense of fashion. ~Q

VALENTINE SENT BY: Dawn WHO RECEIVED IT: Anzu CONTENTS: 8 Pepper Chocolates for Brendan. “I hear eating something spicy can get someone pumped up and boosts competition. Here’s looking to our next Contest.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Zia CONTENTS: Motorcycle shaped Cookies for Anzu. “You ride a motorcycle correct?”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty WHO RECEIVED IT: Silver CONTENTS: A homemade smudging kit with written instructions on how to cleanse your home (or gym) of negative energy. A note reads “Clair, I’m sorry this isn’t much of a valentines gift, but I thought you might get some use out of it anyway. Happy Valentines Day. -Morty”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anzu WHO RECEIVED IT: Leaf CONTENTS:  A sheet of paper with the word "Nerd” scrawled in pencil.

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Ariana Natsumi CONTENTS:  Mixed Chocolates and Candy for Green. “I do not remember what you enjoyed, but I hope you enjoy sweets.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty WHO RECEIVED IT: Lillie CONTENTS: It’s a Pokemon Egg! What could be inside? The only thing that came with it is a note that says “This egg should hatch in a few days. Enjoy your new Pokemon! -Morty”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anonymous WHO RECEIVED IT: Daigo CONTENTS:  The card has a pair of Pikachu rubbing cheeks with their tails entwined on the front. On the inside is—oh no, glitter bomb! Enjoy that mess.

Only one word is written inside.“Dork.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty WHO RECEIVED IT: Red CONTENTS:   Homemade vanilla cookies that are somewhat shaped like Togepi. A note reads “Happy Valentines Day. I hope you enjoy these. -Morty” He’s only a little nervous that a certain Pokemon of his might have messed with one of the batches he made. Hopefully they taste fine.

VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty WHO RECEIVED IT: Brendan CONTENTS:   A box of loose leaf tea stored in individual cloth pouches. Different blends include citrus, lavender, chamomile, mint, rose and matcha (because why not be obvious?) A note attached reads “Happy Valentines Day. I made most of these blends myself. I hope you like them. -Morty”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo WHO RECEIVED IT: Whitney CONTENTS: A chocolate flower. “Hilarious right? Happy Valentines Day.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anonymous WHO RECEIVED IT: Jac CONTENTS: On the front of the card is a man and woman showing their tanned Alolan summer bodies. Inside, there’s a foil for… er, intimate bedroom activities. ‘No need to thank me.’

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Katlyn CONTENTS: A Red and Black Hat for Ethan.

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anzu WHO RECEIVED IT: Alice CONTENTS: A pink note that reads “Sorry that I lost my temper on you. I owe you one for helping me find that Clefairy Doll. P.S. If you find yourself in Olivine City anytime soon, here’s my phone number. I’ll treat you to a free meal for helping me out. -Anzu"

VALENTINE SENT BY: Quentin WHO RECEIVED IT: Morty CONTENTS: Dear Zia, Roses are red You’re fond of a ghost They give me the creeps But you’re still engrossed. ~Q

VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty WHO RECEIVED IT: Quentin CONTENTS: A shiny new Pokeball with a Gastly inside, adorning a light purple ribbon. “Happy Valentines Day! I wanted to give her to you sooner but she just hatched last week. Her name is Salvia. -Morty”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Barry CONTENTS: Goomy shaped Chocolates for Red. “Send me photos of your little partner!”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anzu WHO RECEIVED IT: Kris CONTENTS: A note reads: “Sorry I haven’t kept in touch with you lately. Hope this helps make up for it.” Attached is a small bag with homemade cookies from Yuzu and several pieces of store bought chocolates.

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Zia CONTENTS: Strawberries covered with Chocolates for Leaf. “I’ve heard of your recent successes! I’m very happy for you.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anzu WHO RECEIVED IT: Red CONTENTS: A small bag of homemade cookies with a note attached reads “Yuzu made too many extra cookies for Valentines Day, so she asked me to help her get rid of some. Don’t get the wrong idea.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Whitney WHO RECEIVED IT: Daigo CONTENTS: Attached with a box of cookies with jam in the centre is a card with a !!very!! cute picture of snubbull cuddling. Inside reads: ❤ Happy Valentine’s Day!! ❤ For White Day, we should go somewhere fun! Or even before! What do you say? But don’t think you can forget about White Day just because you’re a shut-in! 😠 Okay? I’ll be expecting a gift in return! 💕 - Whitney ❤

VALENTINE SENT BY: Quentin WHO RECEIVED IT: Morty CONTENTS: Dear Anzu, Roses are red You’re lacking a heart But the real problem is You’re not very smart. ~Q

VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty WHO RECEIVED IT: Sun CONTENTS: A pouch full of wild berries from the Ilex Forest. It seems that Morty had excellent luck when he went to gather them; there are a few Sitrus berries in the pile. “I wanted to share the wealth. Hope you’re doing well. -Morty”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anonymous WHO RECEIVED IT: Quentin CONTENTS: From the day I met you at the battle frontier, I knew something was aloaf. My head got all dizzy for the first time in years and I knew, it had to be you. Your just the person of my dreams, and I hope that someday we can be together, though we have things to discuss. Feel free to visit anytime, as I know your always going going. You know where to find me! :)

VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo WHO RECEIVED IT: Ethan CONTENTS: Some Strawberry Marshmallows “This is thanks for you sister keeping Mimi company, but you can keep some I guess.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Zia CONTENTS: Chocolates for Ariana Natsumi. “Happy Valentines.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo WHO RECEIVED IT: Green CONTENTS: Some really messy and sloppily made chocolate. “Torra wanted to give this to you. Happy Valentines.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo WHO RECEIVED IT: Anzu CONTENTS: Store Bought Chocolates “Happy Valentines.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Dawn WHO RECEIVED IT: Claudia CONTENTS: Homemade Chocolates for Barry with a note. “You probably don’t realize how much you’ve done for me. Here’s to another good year.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo WHO RECEIVED IT: Morty CONTENTS: A chocolate sphere. A solid sphere of chocolate. "Isn’t this funny?”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo WHO RECEIVED IT: Clair CONTENTS: Halloween Candy. “Boo. You like scary stuff right.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Whitney WHO RECEIVED IT: Lance CONTENTS: There’s a personal photo printed on the front of this card of Goldenrod City’s Gym Leader Whitney crowded by a group of pokémon: a smiling clefable, miltank, aipom, wigglytuff, and a bibarel whose flat eyes stare into your soul.

Inside are a bunch of stickers with this same exact picture, but smaller!

‘Sunny,Happy Valentine’s, Sunny! I’m thinking about you all the way here in Johto. 💕 Do they have a photo booth over there you can take sticker pictures with? You should find out, pronto!! Or send me some cute pictures of you and your pokémon!

Love you lots!  😘

❤️ Whitney ❤️ ’

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Red CONTENTS: A Black, Blue, and Red scarf made with Lance’s color scheme for Morty.  "Stay warm.” is all the note says.

[yunasightx]

Names and Puzzle Pieces( aka , give me the Mcmercy fam fluff!))

(Behold this monster that has literally been sitting on my flash drive for a over a year and a half. I have no excuse for this fic besides the fact that I’m a sucker for wholesome expecting family fluff— and that goes double for this pair. Literally.)

Disclaimer:

As I stated before, this fic has been sitting around for a while .. so I really did not go through it with an ultra fine tooth comb (( and is also the reason why there are some characters, like Moria, who are not mentioned even though they have a strong relation to members of the original Overwatch---  especially in regards to Mercy and Mccree’s past. They simply were not around at the time when I wrote the bulk of this. I added Brigitte in last minute though , because it was a bit easier to mention her....and i may also ship her with a certain rocket-jump gal ))I did try my best, but I really just wanted to get it over with. So, apologies for Iand grammar issues. I may go back to edit later if I see anything insanely obvious.

In the meantime, happy reading and enjoy! ))

Tornborjn,

I just looked over the schematics you sent me. So far, the upgrade looks promising – but I’m a little concerned about stress the additional weight and momentum might put on the joints in Fig 4.  Reinhart is not  as young as he use to be  ( despite what he might boast about) , and while an extra booster might help the Crusader Suit have a little bit more of the “OOMPH” the two of you are looking for …. Osteoporosis is not just something that is exclusive to women.   Which reminds me…. I believe you are overdue for your yearly physical as well, Bärchen  <3.

Angela

Ps. I highlighted the issues I think need a second glance.  Maybe we can get lunch next Tuesday to look them over?  I have been craving grilled fish and sriracha something terrible lately.

Angela read over the email one last time, checking for the usual typos and general grammatical errors, before hitting the send button.  The email blipped out of existence from her computer screen leaving only the  default Overwatch logo quietly staring back at her.

The doctor leaned back in her chair with a content sigh, “Well, one thing down…. Several more to go.” She had spent the whole morning cleaning out her (what always appeared to be) constantly full inbox; replying to and sending out correspondences to anyone and everyone who had questions and concerns for the Head Doctor of the reinstated global peacekeeping organization. Angela supposed she could have been fielding most of them off to an intern, or even asked Athena for assistance, but she liked being proactive in things ---- and truth was… she needed SOMETHING to do for the next couple of months.

Angela glanced over to her Valkyrie Suit which stood like marble statue between the two pristine white and glass shelves behind her desk  while her hand came up to rest on her still- rounding  stomach.   The lighting of the room gave the enameled white coating a soft iridescent glow and illuminated  rest of the black, orange and gold details.  The sight of it rising over the back of her chair, even with the wings powered off, as someone walked into her pristine office was something  that she knew bordered on spiritual

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss the adrenaline, the rush, and energy of being on the field ,or being actively involved in something ; but while the she would always be incredibly proud of her first child ---- at the moment she now had other lives she had to care for first.

And she knew the others were in good hands; Lucio and Zenyatta were newer to the life style of being a Overwatch Field medic , but so far they had shown enough promise that most of Mercy’s fears had been eased.  And dear darling Brigitte had taken the helm of that group in stride after dealing with patching up Reinhardt for years. They often came to her for advice, and she was very happy with how far all of them had come since joining Overwatch.

Angela actually had the sneaking suppression that donning the Valkyrie suit for so long was the reason why her pregnancy had been going so smoothly —for the most part— in the first place . The results weren’t completely definitive, but it seems wearing and handling experimental bio- nanotechnology over a long period of time had had some unforeseen side effects.  One of which  being what basically boiled down to slowing down the aging of Angela’s cells. It wasn’t much, just a under a decade in difference to her chronological age—-she would still age, she just wouldn’t have to worry about things like grey hair , wrinkles , mammograms, and arthritis as soon as everyone else.

Ana had joked the she should retire and just sell her product to  a home-shopping network  as the newest “anti-aging skin care line” --- then buy a nice little vacation home in Hawaii for her , McCree and the little ones ( with an extra guest house  for their favorite “Nana”, of course).

But, Mercy knew that at nearly Thirty-Nine years of age she should have expected a myriad of complications with getting pregnant, at least naturally ---- especially with both her and McCree starting to push forty. So, when it had happened after their first try… it had come as a bit of shock.  She and Jesse had talked about the possibility of children, the idea of growing their family just a little, but they had still had gone into the whole thing with a mindset of “if it happens, it happens”.

And when they discovered it they would be having twins….

Well, Mercy made a note to add gynecology and fertility research to her ever growing list.  After she had to pick McCree off the floor that is.

But, aside from three and a half months of nightmarish morning sickness and the never ending whiplash of weird cravings, everything had been progressing surprisingly well.

Well… almost everything.  

Angela’s thoughts broke off when she felt what was quickly becoming familiar fluttering of movement pushing against the palm of her hand.  She laughed and lightly rubbed her fingers over the spot, “I guess nap time is over , hmm?” She hummed. She felt another little persistent nudge and sighed, “Right..... back to work!”  

Angela braced her hands against the armrests and pushed away from her desk, before awkwardly hauling herself back to her feet; grunting as her center of gravity and new constantly-changing weight shifted back to her pelvis as her very round stomach curved out in front of her and her lower back arched in.

Angela knew she was surprising large, even with twins.  She looked more like she was nearing the tail end of her third trimester with one child, rather than twenty weeks with two.

She had given up trying to button her lab coat and pants weeks ago, and forgot the last time she had been actually able to see her feet (were her toes still painted sky blue?  Or was it lilac? Rustic orange ? The world will never know. )  Now, she just opted for breathable tunic dresses and a nice pair of stretchy leggings with her favorite pair of flats  ——and when she was home, she all put lived in Jesse’s flannel shirts ( but, she had the feeling even they wouldn’t fit for much longer either at this rate..)    

She thought about the closet of cute, but sensible new maternity wear Ana , Lena, Brigitte and Pharah had eagerly  helped her shop for  just a few weeks ago (with the former captain letting Mercy know she should be very thankful she didn’t have to be stuck with horrible fashion styles that were around when she was having Pharah… or the lack there of).  She felt a bit guilty that she was growing out of them so quickly.

Then again….. technically the twins were farther along than twenty weeks.  At least, from a gestational stand point.

That was other thing . The other unforeseen side effect of donning her Valkyrie suite for so long and so often.  Besides slowing down her ownaging, somehow the twins were growing at a slightly accelerated rate.  Not insanely or supernaturally fast, but every test her and Winston had run had proven they were consistently three weeks ahead of any  normal development.

Mercy had gone back and doubled, even tripled checked her math, but it was hard to mistake the night that led to all of this.  It was enough of an oddity that even though there had been no other complications, both of them agreed to err on the side of caution and treat her as a usual High-risk case and closely monitor her and the babies’ progress.  

Angela huffed and braced one hand against her lower back as the other started rubbing circles along her upper right side, hoping to dislodge whoever decided to jam themselves between her spleen and ribcage. She waddled over to her stainless steel work station by the large glass wall that ran the length of the room and looked out into the hallway between her and the panoramic windows that viewed  the deep shimmering blue waters of the Alboran Sea.  She picked up the tablet she had left there and pulled up her own medical file, along with half- a- screen’s worth of notifications of upcoming appointments and tests.  The lab results from her latest round of blood tests had just come in; most of her levels were fine, except her iron levels which were a tad little low (Angela rolled her eyes at that. Of course, Jesse’s spawn would be as obsessed with red meat as their father.)

She quickly scrolled through the rest of the results, then sent them and the reminded of her next ultrasound away with a flick of her fingers before pulling up several medical files and the list of Overwatch agents who she still had to hound down for the yearly physical.  Thankfully, a majority of the list was already highlighted in bright blue, but there were still a handful of names in red ---and most of those she didn’t even need to look at to know who was dragging their feet to the medical wing.

Let’s see…..Genji came in for his exam Monday, so he’s done. Hanzo was on time, as always.  Lena is tomorrow—I’ll need to remind Winston about that.   Mercy tapped Tracer’s name and informed Athena to let her fellow scientist know about his needed assistance.

“Shall I also remind Winston that it is time for his exam as well, Dr. Ziegler?” The AI suggested helpfully.

Mercy laughed, “No, I don’t think that will be necessary.  I’ll just recruit Lena to help me hold him down, you know how he can be.”

The AI let out a slightly computerized sigh, “Unfortunately, all too well I’m afraid.”

I will  probably have to drag Torbjorn here myself after lunch next week …And I will probably have to ask Ana , Pharah, and Brigette to help with Reinhart, The doctor sighed as she turned back to her list, her fingers  briefly hovering over the names that were blocked out in black---- the white lettering spelling out the identities as sharp and finite as a row of marble headstones on a dark lawn.  The files had been pulled over with the rest when Athena had backed up the old medical records from the original Overwatch.

Gerard Lacroix --- Deceased

Jack Morrison --- Deceased

Gabriel Reyes --- Deceased

Ana’s name had also recently been shrouded in the mournful color, but she had given her blessing to correct the outdated file. Her active status was now in the same bright cobalt blue as her daughter’s name near the top --- although, she had objected to also having her “Captain” title receiving the same treatment.

“I’m retired now, malak. These old bones aren’t fit to keep babysitting you brats all the time. Just leave me in the back with the rest of the old timers, and we’ll bail you kids out when you’ve finished having your fun.”

“76” on the other hand refused to go by any other name---- no matter how hard Angela or the others tried to convince him to reconsider, the old solider stubbornly refused to budge.

“The commander of Overwatch died at the Swiss base.  If you want him, you can find him six feet under his tombstone in Arlington.”

As for the last two names….. well… despite their best advancements and research even science couldn’t truly bring back the dead.

And even then……….. Angela was not sure she would ever cross that line.  She had toed it with Genji, even the very reasoning behind her own nanotechnology research flirted with that perilous edge …

But sometimes, the line between Man and God was drawn for a reason, and the price that asked was just too much to handle. You could make life, mend it, repair it if need be ----but you could not return light to a candle that no longer had a wick to burn.

Enough of that, Ziegler. Angela shook her head to clear her thoughts, and leave the past where it was supposed to be.  She scrolled through the rest of the names until she came to one very familiar name that she wasn’t surprised was still in red.  

“What am I going to do with him?” Angela sighed and tapped opened the file, so focused that she missed the metallic jingle of spurs and confident clomp cowboy boots sneaking up behind her.

“Boo.”

Angela jumped in surprise when two arms grabbed her from behind and that mischievous, honey-whiskey -warm voice smirked against the back of  her ear.  She shot a pointed look over her shoulder ( which lacked any real bite), but Jesse just greeted her with one of his charming smiles---- completely unapologetic as he leaned down and placed a kiss on the back of her shoulder as both of his hands drifted down to the sides of her stomach.  

“How’re y’all doin’?”  

Angela could feel his warm chuckle and smile against her skin when he felt one of the twins jab at the underside of his human palm,  “Well, that one definitely takes after me. Not even out yet, and already tryin’ to start a fight.”

Angela rolled her eyes, but there was smile on her face as she turned her head and kissed his cheek. He had trimmed his beard a little bit from the wild bush he had during his vigilante days, and his hair was back to the style he had it during the prime of his days in Blackwatch .  It was still unkempt and disheveled as ever, but Angela has always liked that length on him. And Jesse said he finally got sick having it stick to the back of his neck in the blistering heat and finding beard hairs in his whiskey.

“Did you just get back?” She could still smell the salt, sea spray, and limestone of Ilios on him, along with a bit of gunpowder and a little bit of nicotine.   Jesse had reluctantly agreed to cut back on the smoking when they decided to try to start a family (only because she had  threatened that he would have to bunk with Genji , Hanzo and Zenyatta  for the next  eighteen  years  if he so much as thought about lighting up around her or the children) , but when he was out on assignment he still smoked at a cigar or two. Mercy was at least grateful he wasn’t smoking a pack a day anymore.

He had cut back on drinking too. Genji had mostly been the one to thank for that----he and Zenyatta had been helping Jesse slowly deal with his demons over the last year and a half.  For the youngest Shamada, it was the least he could do for his former Blackwatch brother and very dear friend, and the two now had a bond that went deeper than just former coworkers.

It was nice to see both of them smile so easily again.

Eventually, the two of them ganged up on her;  and while she originally dug in her heels and refused to acknowledge the parts of  her that she shoved and locked away in deep  into the shadows, far away from anyone else (her failures, her regrets , guilt and blame and what ifs)  ……it didn’t take a neuro scientist to know that something besides her work or adjustments to her suit was keeping her awake all night. And her heart was so much lighter for it.

“Just docked”,Jesse pressed another kiss against her shoulder before lifting his head a bit and resting his chin there with a deep content hum, “Figured I’d hide out here for a bit before having to face the paperwork.” He wrapped his arms under her stomach to pull her into his warmth, “Don’t think I’ll be able to keep doing this for much longer. What are ya feedin’ these kids ,Angie?”

Angela smacked his arm ,”Burgers and sriracha. And I wonder who I can thank for that.”

“Hey, don’t pick on me. I remember those paper bags you tried hiding under your desk,’ Miss McDonalds’.”

“It was Wendy’s.” Angela said automatically, not even phased about Jesse calling her out on her old guilty pleasure.

“Yeaaaaaaaahh,” Jesse drawled out with a lazy smirk that she could feel curl against her neck , “ but you’re gonna be stuck with a bunch ol McCrees so I figured it was more fitting.”

“Who said they were going to be “McCrees”?”

Angela had to bite down on her tongue from laughing as the charming “I’m winning this round” smirk slipped right off the gunslinger’s face.

“That ain’t very nice, Angel. Don’t be mean.”

“I am not being mean,” Angela had to try very to keep her voice clinical and matter-of-fact , instead of breaking out into the giggles that tickled in her throat. She knew it wasn’t nice to tease him like this, but it was cute when he pouted. “Technically, we are not married so—“

“And you told me you didn’t want that right now,” Jesse pulled away, and Angela knew instantly that she went too far.   Frustration mixed with the jet lag and three sleepless nights of clearing out stubborn Talon agents from Greek ruins that lined the cowboy’s shoulders, giving him a wounded look that was worse than any bullet to her heart.

She knew without asking what his plan had been the moment he stepped on to the helipad---- a nice cold drink, kick off those dumb boots, and to spend the rest of a quite afternoon with the woman and mother of his children who had basically stolen his heart almost twenty-two years ago.  

“ I offered it to you, but you said it wasn’t necessary. That is just a dumb piece of pa----“

Angela swallowed the rest of his argument by reaching out and pulling his head down to kiss him sweetly, putting a cooling balm on his temper.  He seemed to have gotten the message because his shoulders instantly relaxed under her hands as his went to her widened hips and he shook his head with a gravely sigh, “I really don’t like how easily you can get under my skin like that sometimes, woman.”

She shook her head and gave him another kiss before pulling back and reaching up to apologetically smooth back his hair, pushing back a laugh when he tried to puller closer but her stomach got in the way, “ No, that was a terrible attempt of a joke. I shouldn’t have said it.”

Jesse had always been the more emotional one between them; the sentimental, passionate, and sweet parts of their relationship --- a simmering slow southern day outside of Sante Fe. Even after all these years, she still had trouble accepting that when Jesse McCree loved you  he did it absolutely, openly,  and without holding anything back----it was all or nothing for him.

When she thought back on it, Angela realized she never stood a chance.

For Jesse, a ring and wedding was more than just a tradition.  It wasn’t a claim on her, or a way “to keep her an honorable woman” and their children from being born under questionable circumstances or the hundreds of other reasons people have married for over the thousands and thousands of years of human history.

It was a promise. One of the most important ones he could ever give, besides his oath to Reyes and Amari when they offered him a rank in Overwatch ----a chance to do something worthwhile and good.

Angela just didn’t know if she was worthy of that promise just yet.  

She still had moments where she worried if she could do this.  If they could really could do this. That whisp of doubt that had spread and thrived in the shadow of the ruins and rubble of the old Overwatch.  In the shadow of her every regret and helplessness and weakness when everything she held dear crumbled right through her fingers. The one thing she could never heal and fix.  

Those names flickered in her mind again.

....The names of those she failed to support.

But, she was more than willing to try.

As silly, confounding, confusing, reckless, and dramatic as her cowboy was ----she never really thought the idea of spending the rest of her life question her sanity around him sounded bad. Even back before the old Swiss base had been nothing but a pile of bitter-sweet memories, secrets, and rubble. Before they had answered Winston’s recall……and then decided to try to pick up the pieces each of them had been carefully tucking away during the years in between.

They weren’t puzzle pieces that fit together, but------

“ I think McCree is a lovely name,” Angela hummed as she pressed her lips to his cheek, just along the curve of the dark circles under his right eye, “ I also think you should have gotten more sleep. No offense, Jesse, but you look dead on your feet. And I am the doctor who is pregnant with twins.”

The cowboy gave a resigned sigh and sank down into a nearby chair, pulling her with him and across his lap since his arms had tried to find their way around her waist again. She placed her tablet down on the counter and shifted to make herself more comfortable, placing her hands over his as they followed the faint movements of the twins hands, knees, elbows, and etc  pressing against her sides.  “Just give this old cowboy a few minutes, Ange.  I missed you somethin’ fierce out there,” He muttered against her skin as he rested his forehead against her shoulder again.

“You really should be taking better care of yourself.”

The gunslinger gave a soft chuckle at the old scolding that had lost its intentional bite years ago, “Acknowledged”.

Angela knew Jesse had a terrible time sleeping when he was away on assignment these days;  which was more than unusual because she couldn’t think of a place at the Swiss base where someone had not seen him napping with his hat over his face and his boots probed up on a random surface. It would not have  be long before said hat was slapped off, and he was dragged off by his ear  for laps by a very grumbly Gabriel Reyes to burn off all that extra energy he had obviously been storing up.

“And just what are you smiling about?”

Mercy came out of the past, and shook her head at Jesse who was watching her with an amused smile before she settled against his him with her head on his shoulder, “ Nothing, just some silly memories. I can prescribe  you some minor sleep aids if you think that would help.”

The main reason for Jesse restlessness out on the field was because when his mind didn’t have to be focused on a gunfight, it was right back here with her and the twins.  It wasn’t so bad in the beginning, but as her pregnancy progressed the little fear of something happening when he might be several time zones away kept knawing itself a nice little home at the back of his mind---- like a mouse chewing its way through a baseboard.

Nightly phone calls and face -time sessions helped reassure him that Talon had not attacked the base,  Hana had not accidentally shut down the entire power grid by rigging up a super computer for gaming, and Winston did not turn her or the children into a tubs of peanut butter ( “………have you been drinking with Winhelm and Torbjorn again?”  “……No, but I did have some kind of weird Japanese fish dish Genji made.” )

Even then ,Hanzo had taken up  Mercy’s position of McCree’s common sense out on the field --- taking away the gunslinger’s phone so the bright LED screen didn’t give away their position when he kept checking in every five minutes as bullets whizzed by their heads.

Jesse gave a tired sigh as he raised his head and rest his chin on the crown of her head as he drew in closer, “I’ll be fine. I just need you and our bed , and maybe a hot toddy to dull the edge. I’m home now, that’s all that matters.”

Home.  After how many years that word did hurt to think about anymore.  

The two of them stayed like that for a while. Forgetting about emails and exams and desks full of paperwork, and just trying to enjoy this moment of absolute suspended moment of peace like a sip of Angela’s homemade hot chocolate or Jesses favorite aged whiskey.

If she closed her eyes she could almost smell the air of the Swiss alpines again, feel concrete lightly bite the backs of her thighs and the warm weight of a young gunslinger’s arm and serape around her shoulders as her knees dangled over the side of roof while  she and Jesse watched the sun rise over the base.  Watching as the light and sky started out deep and rich and slowly turned golden, blinding and bright.

Almost….. if it weren’t the constant movement jostling her insides.

“They don’t like keeping still, do they?”, Jesse grinned, his hands were tracking them across her stomach again,  eagerly moving from her sides and resting just below her navel now. He looked down at her, eyes lined with jet lagged and some residual signs of his drinking and smoking lifestyle--- but still the same soft and lively molten brown she first seen at seventeen.  

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Angela tilted her head up and teasingly nipped the tip of his nose.  

“ Hmmm….. How long are you goin’ to be cooped up in here? I was thinking you, me, some nice seared steak and pasta, and ---“

“If you even think about mentioning another one of your western movies again, Jesse, I am just going stay here and sleep in one of the med bay beds tonight.”

“…….Well, now who’s jumping the gun? I was goin’ to suggest that one old timey pirate movie Ana use to play all the time during break nights.”

“…….I’m sure you were, cowboy.”

Jesse held his hands up in surrender, “Alright, alright. You get to pick the movie tonight. Just don’t make it one of those boring educational flicks again. I’d like to be able stay awake with you tonight.”

“You liked the last few I’ve selected,” Angela pointed out, rubbing at her side to calm down whichever twin was unhappy bout suddenly being ignored.

“Yeah, well one of those was about those murders in Victorian London.  Of course that’s going to keep my interest.  But seriously Angie, as much as I want to know about what’s going on with you  and the kids, “ The Gestational Process and Bonding  of the Human Species  ; From Conception to Birth And Beyond”  isn’t exactly what I would call a “date night movie”.”

“……That is a fair point,” Angela relented, “ I just thought you would like it since you have pretty much checked out every single book we have about pregnancy in the library, and have  hounded Ana,Torbjorn, Winston and I with questions.  You even had Hanzo buy them for you in town.”

She watched as her cowboy turned a nice shade of pink under his beard, “ ….You weren’t supposed to know about that.”

“Jesse….” Angela chucked endearingly as she brushed his hair out of his eyes, “ Libeling, it’s been kind of hard not to.  But, it is sweet ----- a bit annoying sometimes, but it’s been a pleasant surprise.”

Jesse looked down at his hands, which had gone back to her middle, gently circling his thumb over the back of her hands. His voice was soft, almost unsure, like he was slowly trying to figure out an new language and did not want to mince up the words “ …..I’m just a fish out of water with all of this. I never thought I would ever have a shot at something like this. That it wasn’t in the cards for me with the shit show our lives became after everything.   But, God, did I want …… I don’t deserve an inch of you ,Ange. I  sure didn’t back then and I’m not sure I do----“

Angela kissed him before the raw emotion leaking into his voice broke both of them in two.  It was safe to say this was uncharted territory for both of them; two orphans who only had faded fragments of their own parents and a mismatch patchwork quilt they called family that had been made, ripped and repaired over the years as a reference.

There were a thousand things she wanted to tell him right then, but she would save that for when they were not surrounded by the cold, sterile, and professional environment of the med bay and her office.  She wanted to be wrapped up in one of his flannel shirts and his arms first.

“I do have something for you,”  She reached for her tablet and pulled up the file she had been saving for when he got back.

Jesse groaned the second end moved her arm, “ Angel…look, I know I’m due for that blasted checkup, but do you really—“

“You can relax, it’s not your physical. ..Yet.  I will be getting you for that later,” Angela handed him the tablet and watched as one of his eye brows raised at the sight of her name and date of birth at the top of the page. She offered him a sheepish smile, “ I know you wanted to be there, but I’m afraid Winston got the dates mixed up.  No one else knows about it yet…..but I thought it would be a nice surprise for you when you got back.”

She could barely hide her excitement  as his eyes flitted down past all the medical information and jargon the he did not understand, and landed on the one part of the report that was impossible to mistake.  She had to bite down on the corner of her lip to keep from beaming at him when his brown eyes went wide and looked between her, the tablet and back again. It was one of the few time she had seen the bombastic cowboy struck speechless,  “ …Both?”

Angela nodded, finally letting herself smile,“ Both. One of each. I guess that means we’re done after this.”

But,Jesse seemed to have missed her joke as he quickly set the tablet back down and demanded to know which twin was where. Angela laughed as she guided the one hand to where their son was trying to cozy up to her ribs again, and the other to where their daughter has kicked his hand earlier.  “ They do move , but I think that’s where they are for the most part, “ Angela titled her head as she took in the suddenly  serious look crossing on Jesse’s face that he only got when he was trying to whip a strategy during a mission , “Is something the matter, Libeling?”

“….. Figuring out how much I’m gonna have to stock up on ammo for when they get older. Maybe finally talk Torb into installing that finger gu-”

“Jesse Leon McCree!” Angela’s glare cut through his thought faster than one of her laser- guided scalpels, “For the last time, I am not installing finger guns into your prosthetic!”

“I didn’t say you, now did I?”

“ Torbjorn won’t do it either. I already warned him I would revoke his honorary grandfather card if I ever caught him with schematics.”

“ Awwwww, come on! That ain’t fair, Angel!” Jesse whined. “ How else am I supposed to scare idots away from little Annie when she gets older?”

“Are you thrity-nine or nine…? And I am sure you will come up with something. Also, we are not naming out children after wild- west outlaws.”

“…Dam.. I was sittin’ on that one for a while,” Jesse looked at her again, “ What about-“

“No.”

Jesse jutted out his lower lip and looked at her with those big puppy gold-brown eyes that had been bane of her existence for the last twenty- something years.  ….But, she would be lying to herself if said she wasn’t at least a little bit happy that genetics promised that there was a very good chance at their children would have his eyes as well.

“Fineeeeeeeee,” Jesse sighed when he realized he wasn’t going to win their  little stalemate, although there is more than a hint of a whine to it, “What about “Fenrir” for the boy then?  That’s something you’ve always liked.”

“Oh mein got!” Angela rolled her eyes, “Out of all the Norse myths I have told you, of course that’s the one you remember.”

“What? We could call him “Fen”,” Jesse pointed out innocently.  

“You do remember that Loki is the one who gave birth to him, don’t you?”, Angela pointed out with a sigh, “ Only you would want to name your son after the eater of the world and killer of Odin? How about “Tyr”?” She tapped  her finger nail against the scared- up skull engraved into the metal plating of his bionic arm. “The god of Justice. That seems a bit more fitting. “

Jesse watched her hand with a little smirk as he leaned his head against her shoulder again. They might have been playfully arguing about names, but she had never seen him look so content.  The look in his expression said it all… ….he held his entire world in his arms.  “Eh, it’s not as cool. Any kid of ours is going to be hell –in- a- hand basket and an angel all-in-one, they need a name goes with it.”

“I think it’s just in your nature to -- how do you Americans say it----“  Go Big or Go Home”?” Angela laughed as Jesse gently, but playfully pulled her closer against his chest, his hands resting on her hip as his lips grinned against her forehead and his beard tickling between her eyes

“Yep ,sounds like me. I’ve always dreamed big---- how else could I have gotten as lucky to end up with someone like you? You don’t get chosen by an angel just by waiting around and twiddling your thumbs.”

Angela rolled her eyes as she shifted in the cowboy’s lap as their daughter let her know she didn’t like being squished between them by trying to kick elbow her pancreas. Jesse’s hands instantly went to the spot and circled his fingers to apologize.

They were going to be fine.

“Well…..I do have one name in mind… ,”Angela hesitated.  She wasn’t quite sure how Jesse would react to her suggestion. She still didn’t know how she completely felt about it.  

It had started as a little idea that had just popped up in the back of her mind the moment the blood tests had confirmed everything, like one of the single little cells their children had started out as.  At first, she just shook it off as an impossible notion, just the increasing hormones her body being annoying ; but like Jesse, it just hunkered down and refused to budged until she begrudgingly paid attention to it.

It was name that had weight to it, memories and heartbreak. But, she knew it was a name that meant a lot to Jesse… and even herself and many others in their little rag tag family.  And the more she had thought about it, each week the name just sounded a little more right.  Her mind went back to the list of names of those she had failed to save.  

You could not return life to can candle that no longer had a wick , but the scent of the wax would always linger.

“Gabriel.”

She carefully watched his face as her stomach squirmed in a way that had nothing to do with her tumbling twins or morning sickness.  It only took a few moments, but it felt life time as she watched the confusion on his face melt into surprise then something so soft and speechless that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to smile or cry herself.

For now she would blame it on the hormones.

“I like it, Darlin’,” His voice was soft, like a warm camp-fire on a cool night as he reached up and tucked her side swept bang behind her ear. “ … Thank you.”  

She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand as his callused and tanned finger s trailed over her cheek, still the same as they had always been despite all the years.  They still felt like home.

“There is nothing to thank me for, Liebling. “

“…. I still want Fen as a first name though.”

Angela gave a heavy sigh, Andddddddd there went the moment,“ Do not make me kick you out of my office .“

Jesse just gave her another smug and charming smirk that made his right eye twinkle, “Gotta come up with a better bluff than that, Sugarbee. I’m your favorite pillow.”

“Well, since you are here ,Darlin..” She drawled a little too innocently , “ I do have a long list of overdue shots with your name on it.”

The cowboy blanched and Angela just gave him his smirk right back before breaking down into a smile and leaning forward to kiss him as he huffed against her mouth and pulled her as close as her stomach would allow. “ Woman, I swear there is devil in those angel eyes sometimes.”

No, they were not puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together ---  there were too many broken edges that had been worn and dented over the years.  They were more like pieces of a shattered glass that had been put together into a mosaic.  Something that was a little old and new at the same time , fractured and whole…  and made something  wonderful and beautiful when the light shone through.

[eldritchsurveys]

o52.

Do you look up spiritual meanings to things? >> Sometimes. If all else fails, I’ll make up one. Do you wonder what you should be doing currently? >> I don’t wonder -- I should eat something, but I’m like... glued to the bed right now. Is there someone you want to be friends with who is mean to you? >> No, I don’t want to be friends with someone who’s mean to me. That’s the literal opposite of what I want from a friendship. Are your parents abusive? >> Not by my reckoning. Do you plan on sending out Christmas cards this year? >> Sure, hopefully.

When was the last time you had surgery? >> I’ve never had surgery.  Do you take a lot of risks in life? >> Hell, just being alive and doing the things one needs to survive is a fair amount of risk in itself (for example, eating is risky -- just look at all the food recalls we’ve had lately), so yeah, probably. Do you believe that taking risks is what makes life worth living? >> No, I think that taking risks is part of living, and learning which risks are acceptable and how to deal with the consequences of risk is pretty important to a good life. Which Anne of Green Gables character are you most like? >> I don’t know if I’ve even read that. Are you currently healing from surgery? >> No. Do you wish you had a mother you could talk to? >> Sometimes. But it’s hard for me to even imagine what that would be like. Do you feel panicked frequently? >> No. Are you ashamed of who you are? >> No. Do you feel free to be yourself? >> Sure. Do you feel safe and loved and cherished? >> Like, in general? I feel loved and appreciated, I’m not really sure what safety feels like (I only know it by its lack) but like, probably. Have you ever spent Christmas alone? If yes, did you enjoy it? >> I don’t think so. Like, lonely, yes, but not literally alone. What do you plan to do for Christmas this year? >> I assume I’ll be doing what I’ve done for the past two years. Do you currently have a crush on someone? >> Sure. What are you currently longing for? >> My energy back, lmao. I’m really not used to going out like I did last night anymore. What emotions do you experience most frequently? >> Happiness and sadness, I guess, to give a simplified answer. Who was the last person to hurt your feelings? >> Hallie, but it’s over and we’re good. Have you ever had a revelation from God? >> Sure. Are you lonely? >> Sometimes. Not at this moment, I don’t even have the energy to be lonely lmao. Are you or have you ever been shy? >> I’ve been shy. What color are your favorite pair of slippers or slipper socks? >> --- Do you like to soak in hot baths? >> Noooooo. What’s your favorite flavor Tootsie Fruit Chew? >> I don’t have one. Do you ever experience acid reflux or heartburn? >> Yeah. Do you take birth control pills? >> No. Do you generally feel your best in the morning or the evening? >> I’m not entirely sure. I think I’m at my cognitive best in the evening, though. Who was your first celebrity crush? >> Matt Damon. Do you like boys or girls better? >> Meh. Would you want your first child to be a boy or a girl? >> I don’t care. Do you pray a lot? >> No. Do you have blood circulation issues (that you know about)? >> I might, considering I don’t get a whole lot of cardio exercise. Has a family member ever died of cancer? >> Not that I’m aware of. Do you not understand something right now? >> No. Do you type fast? >> Yeah. Do little yippy dogs annoy you? >> The sound can be annoying, but in general I’m all right with them as long as I don’t have to spend long periods of time listening to them yip. Is there a website that shut down that you miss? If so, what? >> Xanga. Do you ever read about the olden days and wish u could have lived back then? >> I mean, yeah, in a superficial sense, but I don’t really want that. How old is your mom? >> I don’t know. Do you enjoy readings Scripture? >> Sure. Are you happy with your life right now? >> Sure. Have you ever overdosed on a medication? >> Yeah. Have you ever sat on a whoopee cushion? >> No. What talk show do you want to go on? >> No thanks. What would make you happy? >> Right now? A nap, probably, but my brain’s too awake so I can’t go back to sleep. Bodies are dumb. What prize would you like to win? >> I don’t care. What current fashion trends do you like and which ones do you dislike? >> I’m not savvy to the fashion trends right now. Would you want your kids to look like you? >> I really don’t care about this sort of thing. Do you want to have a big family? >> Yeah, but not necessarily like... the way you’re probably thinking. Do you ever wonder why people want to have a ton of kids? >> I’ve wondered that, yeah. Do you like uncommon names? >> Yeah. Have you ever been camping? >> Yeah. Do you wish they made a summer camp for adults? >> I’ve been to summer camp as an adult, but those were pretty unique circumstances. They’re not at all common and I do wish they were. Do you know anyone who is colorblind? >> Yeah. Do you do what you should do? >> Not always. Do you feel oppressed? >> I mean, in general, I am, because I belong to several marginalised demographics. But usually I don’t feel it, even if I recognise its effects on my quality of life. Are you happy right now? >> I’m neutral. Have you ever sent a package? >> Yeah. Do you enjoy knitting? >> I don’t know how. Would you get your hair done if it was free? >> Not right now. Did you have highlights when you were in high school? >> No. Do you have a cat? >> I don’t, but Sparrow does. If not, do you want a cat? >> No. Are you a cat person or a dog person? >> Dog person. Do you like peacocks? >> Hell yeah. What’s your favorite zoo animal? >> I don’t know. Do you feel like you are able to make the most of summer without a pool? >> Yeah, I can’t even swim, so... Do you get hyper in the winter? >> Not at all, lol. Good old Vit D deprivation.  

[gashinamoon]

Stuck With Each Other- an Olicity AU

Chapter 2

Rating: T

Words: 3065

Notes: Happy first day of June! Who else is a June bithday baby like me?

In true me fashion, you'll probably realise that although I said there was only going to be two chapters to this story, once again, it took on a mind of its own and now there's going to be 3. Maybe 4. We'll see. I'm just having so much fun with this!! And after reading, can you guess which classic trope is going to be in the next chapter??? ;)

Anyway! I hope you enjoy this! I'm still con-lagged (like jet lagged except after a convention, you know?) from HVFF over the weekend so any typos and grammar mistakes can be blamed on that. And the fact that I still don't have a beta. It's just me on my one woman team! Feel free to let me know your thoughts after you're done and if anyone wants to know any gossip from HVFF, feel free to follow me me on Twitter because its all I can talk about lately. Also! Precious little Emily Bett designed me a tattoo that I got done yesterday so you can see that on my Twitter too! I'm done rambling now... enjoy! 

Read on AO3

“Whoa, wait. How many of those are you ordering?"

"Six."

"Why six?"

"Well, three for me and three for you. This place closes in five minutes and I'm gonna need more than one coffee to make it through tonight without falling asleep on you. And I figured you needed that much too."

He stared at her, an almost bemused expression on his face.

"But of course you don't! You're probably not addicted to caffeine like I am and you look like you're already used to not getting any more than 2 hours sleep at night. Not that I'm saying you look tired. I mean, you do, but like, not in a bad way. Not in a bad way at all! Your face is totally not bad. Not bad at all…” She stared in horror at him as her brain caught up with what her mouth was saying. “Please feel free to stop me at any point! Any point right about 30 words ago would be perfect! Or just, you know, any point around the start of this entire conversation?”

Oliver laughed. He was laughing at her, again. Where was that metaphorical hole in the earth when she needed it?

"Maybe I'll just get two coffees," she smiled, embarrassed but feeling sort of warm inside. He had a nice laugh, even if hearing it was at her expense. "I don't think my brain needs anymore stimulating at the moment."

Oliver chuckled softly and leaned over the counter.

"We'll just take three coffees, please. Not six. I can pay by card, right?"

"Hey, wait! I'm paying! These are on me,"

"Felicity, it's fine. I won't miss 20 bucks,"

"Okay, but these are overpriced and you're only drinking one anyway! At least let me pay for my extra one,"

“Let me do something nice for you and buy these. Please?”

“Why do you want to do something nice for me?”

“Because this day was one of the most depressingly boring days in my entire life until you somehow ended up in it and I think that means I should buy you your coffee,” he smiled. “Please?”

God, he was cute. Like a little puppy. He definitely had eyes like a puppy. And usually guys had ulterior motives when they wanted to do something nice for her but Oliver had seemed genuine since the moment he started eavesdropping on her conversation. Which in itself was kind of ironic when she thought about it. Not to mention that if she said no, he’d probably annoy her about it until their flight finally did take off. He looked like the kind of person who could be extremely annoying beneath all the cute and she really didn't think she had the energy to put up with it.

“Fine. As long as you let me do something nice for you at some point tonight, okay?” She smiled, admitting defeat a lot quicker than she usually would. Felicity could be stubborn as hell when she wanted to be. “And thanks,” she added, gratefully.

Oliver returned her smile, except his smile looked more like the one of someone who’d just been offered a free round the world trip as he handed over his card to the cashier to ring up the coffees. Maybe she wasn't the only one who was so heavily influenced by sleep deprivation and lack of caffeine after all.

Speaking of caffeine… all of a sudden a piping hot cup of it was being handed to her and right then in that moment, she didn't care about her delayed flight or having embarrassed herself in front of two strangers in the last 15 minutes or the warnings on the news that the storm might cut out all the power in the city any second. She finally had her crappy cup of overpriced airport coffee and she was not letting anyone or anything ruin this moment for her.

“Do you want to sit down or- no, okay, you're just going to drink it right here,” Oliver said, but she barely heard him.

For a crappy and overpriced cup of airport coffee, she didn't think she’d ever tasted anything better. She didn't even care that it was kind of burning her mouth and throat as she gulped it down. She’d savour the second cup. This first cup was a matter of survival. She drank the first cup in 30 seconds flat, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand after swallowing the last gulp. Suddenly becoming aware of her surroundings and the fact that she’d acted like a complete freak in front of Oliver, she smiled sheepishly at him.

“That was amazing,” Oliver laughed. “I don't think I've ever seen anyone drink a burning hot cup of coffee quite so quickly before. I'm actually kind of worried. Are you sure you're okay?” He teased, leaning over and pressing his palm against her forehead in a gesture she assumed was him checking her temperature.

There go those nice hands again, Felicity thought to herself, fully enjoying the feel of them against her skin.

“I'm good. I'm fine. Kind of really warm and my throat is burning but still good. I really needed that,” she replied, trying to ignore the way her mouth was feeling and how suddenly lightheaded she’d become from the heat of her coffee warming her up so quickly when she hadn't even been cold to begin with.

Oliver gave her a strange look though, so she guessed she wasn't doing a great job of trying to look like she wasn't about to pass out.

“Are you okay?”

“Yup. Just a little dizzy. Is it me or is it really hot in here?” She asked, fanning herself with her hand, desperately trying to cool herself down.

“Maybe this second cup of coffee really isn't a good idea…”

“You're probably right,” she laughed nervously, feeling a little steadier than she had done a few seconds ago but not completely out of the woods yet.

“Lets go and sit down over there,” Oliver gestured to a small seating area a few metres away by a particularly sad looking water feature. “It's quieter than over by the flight gate and you look like you really need to sit down,”

Felicity nodded and didn't even question when he linked his arm through hers and guided her over towards the chair. She felt better, definitely capable of walking by herself, but she really wasn't about to refuse his arm if he wanted to help her. She even found herself leaning into him a little, and he took her weight with ease. Holding onto his forearm to steady herself now that she had committed to pretending she was about to faint, she noticed straight away how solid they were. So solid. She could picture perfectly how tanned and veiny they were underneath the long sleeves of his shirt. That thought almost made her feel dizzy again for real.

Once they were sitting down again, he looked over her worriedly.

“Are you sure you're okay? You really didn't look so good earlier,”

“I'm fine, I promise. I think I just drank that coffee too quickly,” she laughed, knowing that was the understatement of the week.

“I was worried you were going to pass out on me,”

“I'm sure you would've caught me,” Felicity replied, thinking again about his solid forearms, not even realising until the words were out of her mouth how excerpt-from-a-teenage-romance-novel she sounded.

She blushed. “Not that I meant anything by that. You just look… strong. Really strong,”

Oh god, why did everything she said somehow end up making everything worse?

Thankfully, by some grace of the google gods, she was saved by an announcement being made over the airport tannoy system.

“This is an announcement for passengers of flight 812 to Star City; the flight has been cancelled indefinitely due to severe weather conditions and we recommend that all passengers make overnight plans in a nearby hotel. Sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused. We will continue to update you all via text alerts or email on when the next available flight will be. Thank you for your patience.”

Around them, Felicity could hear a string of curses and groans and sighs, the former of which came from her own mouth.

“Ugh, fuck, I can't believe I actually have to stay here another night!”

Oliver laughed. “I never took you for someone who curses,”

Rolling her eyes Felicity sighed. “I don't usually. But this is just fucking irritating! Why do the google gods hate me so much that they actually want me to have to spend another night with my mother?”

“Why don't you get a hotel?”

“No offence to your intelligence, Oliver, but do you know how expensive airport hotels are? Do I really look like someone who can afford to just drop 700 bucks on a hotel room for one night?” She asked, slightly snappily as she took her phone out from her purse.

“I don't mind paying for a room for you,”

“Don't be ridiculous. You don't even know me! Why would you even offer?”

“Because, like I already said earlier, I have a boring job that pays well and I like you Felicity. You’ve made this delayed flight one of the most interesting evenings of my life. In my mind it's completely reasonable of me to at least offer to pay for your room for that,”

For not the first time that night, Felicity was completely taken aback by what Oliver was saying. Everything in her was telling her to argue with him, to tell him how stupid it was for him to even offer such a thing, that she’d be fine just staying one more night with her mom, wishing him a good life and then never speaking to him again. Because that was the reality, right? If she didn't accept his offer she’d go back to her mom’s place and he’d check into a hotel and they'd probably end up on different flights home and never see each other again. The thought made her swallow hard. She hated to admit how much she grown to enjoy Oliver’s company over the last few hours. She knew letting him pay for her hotel room would be selfish, but he had offered; no one was forcing him to do that.

“You really don't owe me anything, Oliver. I haven't done anything except be my normal, embarrassing self,” Felicity laughed softly, catching his eye.

“Not embarrassing. Endearing. I already told you,”

She rolled her eyes in dismissal at his comment but felt her cheeks warm anyway. She couldn't decide whether she absolutely hated or actually kind of liked the effect he had on her. It had been a long time since she’d experienced these kinds of emotions and deep down, she really was enjoying them.

“Okay fine, if I agree and let you pay for my room, will you promise to stop saying things like that, please?”

Oliver chuckled. “Deal. Any preference? I've heard the Hilton is nice.”

She opened her mouth to argue that the Hilton was far too expensive, but the look on his face told her it wasn't worth it. Sighing, she relented.

“I literally do not care. As long as you don't tell me how much you're paying and as long as I can finally sleep, I honestly don't care.”

Laughing, Oliver took out his phone and began to dial.

*

Barely an hour passed before they were standing in the lobby of one of the nicest hotels Felicity had ever been in. She felt completely out of place in her crumpled dress and no makeup, dragging her non-designer suitcase behind her now that they'd been given back their luggage, but she was slowly reaching that point of sleep deprivation where she could feel the earth actually vibrating under her feet and she really just needed to sleep. Thankfully the only people around at 3 in the morning to judge her were the receptionists on the desk.

“Hi, I called earlier and made a last minute reservation? It's Oliver Queen,” Oliver said to the girl behind the desk, flashing her a gorgeous smile that she could tell the girl appreciated, even though she remained professional and didn't react.

Felicity fought the urge to snort upon hearing his last name. Queen was such an elite sounding surname. No wonder he had plenty of money. She imagined with a surname like that, that money just fell into your bank account. But it suited him. It suited him a lot. She hated to admit that hearing his full name actually made him more attractive. She wondered if he had a middle name.

“One room, yes?” The receptionist asked.

“No, two. I asked for two rooms. Under the same name,”

“Oh, I'm sorry, sir. We only have one room available. Due to the weather we’ve had an influx of bookings and the only room left is a double room,”

“That's okay, we’ll take it,”

Felicity almost choked on her tongue at that. They were absolutely not going to take that room.

Somehow managing to hold onto her composure when all she wanted to do was yell, she cleared her throat as politely as possible to get his attention.

“Oliver? Can I speak to you a sec, please? Over there?” She asked, gesturing to their left away from the desk.

Oliver gave the receptionist a slightly apologetic look before following Felicity to where they were out of earshot. Or out of earshot enough that she could talk in a raised whisper without worrying too much about being heard.

“What are you doing?” She asked, not at all caring about being polite now.

“You need to sleep. I'm getting you somewhere to do that,”

“But they only have one room! Where are you going to sleep?!”

“I'll be fine. I'll let you have the bed and I'll just stay up and watch TV or something. Don't worry, honestly,”

“You are not going to pay for a room and then not even sleep in it, Oliver,”

She watched him smirk a little at that and slowly realised how slightly suggestive her choice of words sounded.

“Not that there would be anything wrong with that, I mean, what you choose to do in your own time is none of my business and if you want to pay for a hotel room just to have sex or something, that's completely your choice. Not that that's what we're going to do. Not at all. I mean, I'm sure that would be nice but we’re not going to do that. That's not what I meant at all- you know? I really don't appreciate you laughing at me right now, Oliver. I'm really fucking angry actually at how crazy you're acting,”

He stopped smirking then, clearly realising she was serious, probably taken aback once again by her cursing, and that now wasn't the time to make fun of her. He frowned.

“What is so crazy about me wanting to make sure you get some sleep?! Why can't you just let me do that for you? I really think you're overreacting,”

“I’m overreacting? Why are you so adamant on being so ridiculous all the time, Oliver? I'm not going to have you pay for a room with only one bed if you're not going to sleep in it and that's that. So how about you take the room and I'll just go back to the airport and wait there,”

“Now who’s being ridiculous? You can't just sit in an airport all night! What if you fall asleep and someone steals your stuff?” Oliver argued, his mouth forming a firm line.

God, he was exasperating. She was definitely right earlier about him being annoying underneath all the cute. She couldn't believe they were bickering like this in the middle of a fancy hotel lobby but more than that, she couldn't believe the way Oliver was acting. How was he so chill and calm about them sharing a room? Had he forgotten that until a couple of hours ago, neither of them had even known about the other’s existence? And that aside, she really didn't know if she could handle being cooped up in a hotel room with Oliver all night. How was she supposed to stop herself from babbling inappropriately for hours? She couldn't, she knew she couldn't.

“Why would someone even steal my- you know what? I'm not even going to argue with you. I'm calling a cab and going back to the airport,”

She turned away from him and started to head back towards the desk but she felt Oliver's hand on her arm then, taking hold of her wrist and effectively stopping her in her tracks. All of the fight had disappeared from his face then and for the first time that night, she realised how truly exhausted he looked.

“Please, Felicity. Don't be like this. You're tired and you need to rest. Just take the room. Please,”

Loooord he had to stop looking at her like that. He really did. She was going to have a heart attack if she saw him make that stupid little puppy face again tonight. And his hands were on her again. His fucking hands that were soft and warm and firm all at the same time and making her skin tingle wherever they touched.

Suddenly feeling dead on her feet, Felicity sighed in defeat.

“Fine. We’ll take the room. But the bed is yours. I'll sleep on the couch. There has to be a couch in the room somewhere. That's my final offer before I call a cab and go back to the airport,”

Oliver practically beamed at her then and she felt herself blush. “Deal,” he smiled, moving his hand from her wrist to her palm and giving her hand a shake.

She smiled back, trying to look begrudging but got lost in how nice it felt to hold his hand. Nice wasn't a strong enough word but she didn't have the energy or brain capacity to think of a better adjective right now. She fought off the urge to giggle - yes, to giggle - at how nice it felt to have his hand in hers. She didn't even have the presence of mind to tell herself to get a grip. And if Oliver noticed the giddiness she could feel in her eyes just then, he didn't say.

It was going to be a long night.

If you want to be tagged in my fics/chapter updates, feel free to let me know! :)

(Also, let me know if there’s anything you don’t want to be tagged in! i.e. fics that aren’t strictly Olicity/Arrow, I’m more than happy to remove tags!)

@geniewithwifi​ @scu11y22  @dandeelies @ghostfoxlovely @bellemmie  @youngfolksoldsoul @keytoflowers2509 @relativelyobsessedfangirl @obliviouschickwithagun @oliverfel4 @hope-for-olicity @lemonlime799 @stygian-omada-fan  @pleasantfanandstudent 

[lotus0kid]

Happy 5th anniversary!!!! 🎆🎆🎉I have a prompt, Belle is pregnant and while out on a date( or just out of their house) with her husband Rumple, her water breaks.

OUaT: Anniversary Fic the 12th

((Thanks for prompting!  Hope this works for you.))

“Are you warm enough?”

 It must be the sixth time he’s asked, but Belle’s endlesspatience allows her to reply, “Perfectly.”

 Rumpel still peers over the top of her head at the smallspace heater placed on the back porch, where they sit beneath a blanket ofstars.  It’s growing colder at thebeginning of October, but he’ll do whatever it takes to allow Belle tocomfortably venture out into the open, breathe fresh air and feel the wideworld around her.  She’s been in far toomany cages.

Moderately assured that all is well, he settles beside her,curling his arm a little more firmly around her shoulders.  His other hand hovers near her hip.  Without even looking, she catches his wristand lays his hand over her round belly. An automatic smile lights Rumpel’s face, even as an undercurrent of fearcontinues to flow, whispering that this won’t last, it’s too wonderful, it’llget snatched away, he’ll ruin it, just wait and see.  He draws in and releases a deep breath, anddrowns the whispers in a bath of stars.

 A cloud sails by and slowly reveals a shining crescentmoon.  Beside him, Belle lets out a smallhum.

 “What are you thinking about?” he asks, filled withcuriosity.

 “Just an old story, from home.  About where stars come from.”

 “Yes?”

 “They’re the children of Umera, the goddess of night.  She places them in a cradle, which is thecrescent moon.  When the moon grows full,they go out into the sky, as stars.”

 “A child every month, that’s a large family.  Is there a father?”

 Belle smiles and dips her chin.  “Yes. Vinaos, the god of the day.” Belle turns to fix her eyes on Rumpel. “He brings light to Umera’s darkness.”

 Beneath Rumpel’s hand, he feels the tap of a tiny kickingfoot.  He grins, “I think the little onelikes that story.”

 Belle’s chuckle is full of warmth and love as she pressesher hand over Rumpel’s.  “Not long beforewe get to meet them.”

 “No, not long.”

 Belle rests her head on Rumpel’s shoulder, and they wait forthe future to arrive together.

 ---

 Rumor has it that Rumpelstiltskin is working on some new objectof terrible dark magic.  The shop hasn’tbeen open for days, though a brave soul snuck around back and peeked through awindow to see him bent over his arcane work. The spy could only say it seemed to be made of black fabric and that hewas sewing something into it with fierce concentration.  It was decided that no move would be madeagainst the sorcerer, not yet.

 Currently, said sorcerer is having a cup of tea and readinga book one evening when his wife returns from the library.  At this point in Belle’s pregnancy, Rumpel isready to beg her to stay home, but she simply promises not to do any heavylifting and goes her own way.  He mustadmit that the library is her first child, and she will care for it as long asshe’s able.

 She joins him on the couch and holds out a small rectangleof stiff paper.  “Look what Snow droppedoff today.”

 It’s an invitation to a Halloween party, Rumpel reads.  “Well,” he says, “I’m not sure why shethought you’d be interested in a party that late in the month.  Or that shewould, for that matter.”  Thequeen-turned-bandit-turned-teacher has already had one child and will soon bewelcoming her second, so she ought to know better.  She and Belle have actually bonded somewhatduring their nearly concurrent pregnancies. Rumpel and David have tried not to make much eye-contact with eachother.

 He looks at Belle, but doesn’t find the agreement heexpects.  “What if I am interested?” sheinquires.

 Feeling metaphorical tremors in the ground below his feet,he swiftly replies, “Then I’d say have a lovely time, dear.”

 It’s not the correct answer. Her face falls into a pout, “You wouldn’t come with me?”

 “I, well, that is...” Rumpel sputters, “No one’s ever beenhappy when I’ve turned up at a party.”

 “And they never will if you don’t try,” Belle counters,“We’re all in this together now, Rumpel, we need to make an effort to geton.  Besides that, Snow and David arefamily now, thanks to Henry.  Can I writeyou down as my guest?”

 Well, if nothing else, Belle’s looming due date must betaken into consideration.  He’ll likelybe a bundle of nerves, but he won’t leave his wife’s side.  “Of course you can, sweetheart.”

 Belle gives him a brilliant beam, only for it to quicklyfade.  “Hm, well, now I have to think ofa costume.  Gods, what would evenfit?”  She gestures at her ponderousabdomen.

 “Actually, about that... Hang on.”

 He climbs to his feet and heads for his office to fetch the gifthe luckily just finished today.  He’sspent hours upon hours fussing over it- it’s probably for the best he can giveit to her now.  He strides back to theliving room and sits down, presenting Belle’s gift with a flourish.

 Her mouth falls open as she carefully takes the black dressfrom him.  “Rumpel, this is amazing,” shebreathes as her fingertips explore the minutely detailed embroidery of acrescent moon that decorates the stomach area of the dress.  Every crater, mare, and rill is represented,until all fades into shadow.

 “I did what I could,” he replies humbly, “I liked your starstory too.”  He leans over to kissBelle’s cheek, only to find it wet with streaming tears.

 At his concerned hum, she gives him a wide if waterysmile.  “It’s so beautiful, Rumpel.  Thank you.” She leans in for a kiss he is happy to collect, despite the tang ofsalt.  Then she’s levering herself offthe sofa and marching away, tossing over her shoulder, “I’m trying it on rightnow.”

 Rumpel holds his breath until she returns, then lets it outin a sigh of relief as he sees the dress’s perfect fit, especially in thedecoration, which cradles the curve of Belle’s stomach on the lower right side.  “I love it!” she cries, spinning to make theskirt flare around her thighs.  Then shepauses and faces Rumpel.  “What aboutyour costume?  Vinaos might be a littleobscure.”

 “Not to worry,” he replies. A purple cloud bubbles up in his hands and dissolves to reveal anastronaut’s helmet, complete with a visor coated with opaque gold.  He puts it on and flicks the visor down,hiding his face.  “In case anyone getsannoying,” he explains.

 Belle giggles even as she shakes her head at him, then goes totake off her new costume and put it away until it’s needed.

 ---

 The final few weeks before Belle’s due date are even worsethan Rumpel imagined.  He hardly sleeps,which is more of a problem than he anticipated. Back home where the Dark Curse is strong it sustains his everyneed.  Out here amidst the imported magicof Storybrooke, he needs to help it along. But that’s becoming steadily more difficult as the days go by, and thevicious whispers command him to be on guard every second for someto-be-determined doom.

 Belle is restless as well, but in a surly, frustrated wayRumpel knows he can’t begin to understand. He does catch her whispering furiously at her stomach, “Get out, justget out, I know you’re ready, so get on with it!”

 By the time Snow and David’s Halloween party rolls around,Belle’s raring to go just to burn off excess energy.  Rumpel is too addled from lack of sleep to domore than trail after her in his astronaut helmet and a gray jumpsuit.

 They’re fashionably late mostly because of Belle’s two emergencybathroom visits.  When they reach theapartment building, she marches stolidly up the stairs, though she needs torest on Rumpel’s arm halfway up.

 “If you’re tired...” he begins, stopping when Belle giveshim a severe glare she belatedly twists into a smile.

 “I want to do this. Let’s go.”

 They make it to the landing, where Belle takes a long momentto collect herself before pushing the doorbell. The door soon swings open to reveal Snow White wearing a ring of brownfrills around her hips with her belly painted robin’s egg blue complete withspeckles on top.  Her jumper has a row offeathers down each arm and a construction paper bird’s beak is tied over hernose.  She smiles wide and cries, “Belle,you made it!  Come in!”  That smile shrinks as her gaze moves overBelle’s shoulder and lands on Rumpel.  “Oh,hello, Rumpelstiltskin.  Thank you forcoming.”

 As if she never locked him in a subterranean prison andthrew away the key.  As if he neverconspired with her greatest enemy to ruin her happy ending.  Life is a funny thing.  “Good evening,” he responds, and sidles inbehind Belle.

 “I love your costume,” Snow exclaims at Belle, “The moon,that’s so great, why didn’t I think of that?”

 Belle finds a true smile as she looks down at herdress.  “Rumpel made it.”

 “Oh,” Snow says, a shadow flickering over her face beforeshe brightens again, “Oh!  Okay, so that’s...  Anyway, this detail is amazing.  What kind of spell does that?”

 “My two hands, dearie,” Rumpel can’t help sniping, “You knowI can actually breathe without using magic, if I concentrate.”

 Snow shrinks back with wide eyes and a pinched mouth.  Belle gives him a very subtle jab in theribs.  “Rumpel, she’s being nice.”

 It’s always been his opinion that Snow being “nice” is halfher problem, but he clears his throat and says, “Indeed.  Apologies. And thank you.”

 “You’re welcome.  I,uh, I sewed this too.”  She plucks at abit of brown frills.

 He has to smile at the tiny gleam of hope in her eyes, anddeigns to look over her handiwork.  “Verynice,” he decides.

 Snow beams, “Thanks. So, anyway, we’re all in here, really informal, just family.  There’s snacks, and wine and beer, andsparking apple juice for the two of us...”

 She leads Belle and Rumpel toward the living room area,where the sofa and a few chairs are occupied by David, Emma, Regina, andBae.  Agonizing though it’s been, Rumpelhas given Bae total control over how much contact to have with him.  They see each other fairly regularly, thoughboth are naturally preoccupied with their unique fatherly duties.  It still feels like a miracle to see Bae turnto him and smile- not as warm and bright as before, but an unspeakably vastimprovement to the ragged hole he left in Rumpel’s life for so long.

 When Rumpel can expand his attention beyond Bae, he findssmiles of varying degrees of friendliness all around the room directed at himand Belle.  Wearing his own featheryjumper and bird beak, David says, “Hi, guys! Great costumes!”“Yes!” Snow chimes in, “Isn’t Belle’s great? With the black fabric and the sewing?”

 There’s a round of thoughtful nods Rumpel chooses not tointerpret.  Emma scoots closer to Reginato let Belle sit at the far end of the sofa. David sets a chair for Rumpel between Belle and Bae.

 “Thank you,” he says as he sits, and notices Bae eyeing himfrom beneath a Yankees cap.

 He twists the grip of a lowered baseball bat between hispalms and murmurs, “Please tell me you aren’t wearing a suit under there.”

 The fact that Bae knows how he customarily dresses is enoughto make Rumpel’s heart glow.  He gives hisson a smirk and quips, “Just a linen, very light.”

 Bae snorts into his chest and Rumpel feels like a hero.  It’s somewhat easier after that to sit andchat a bit, or just listen to the conversations floating around him.  Snow hands out ghost-shaped biscuits andpumpkin cupcakes.  Rumpel actuallyrelaxes a little, even finds his eyes drifting shut a bit.

 “Okay, everyone!” Snow’s cheery declaration startles him tofull awareness.  Belle shoots him anamused look as Snow continues, “I was thinking to wrap up our evening, we mightwatch a scary movie.  How’s that sound?”

 “Fine, as long as it isn’t Rosemary’s Baby,” Regina replies, painted cat’s whiskers curling asshe sneers in Belle’s direction.

 “As long as it isn’t TheWicker Man,” Emma retorts before Rumpel can take Regina’s head off with afireball.  She adjusts her cowboy hat andleans back so light glints on the silver star pinned to her plaid shirt.

 “I was gonna go with Jaws,”Snow pipes up.

 “That’s barely ahorror movie,” Regina says, “But it’s acceptable.”

 “Why thank you, Your Majesty,” David mutters on his way tothe television.

 Belle leans over to Rumpel and whispers, “Do I even want toknow?”

 “Ignore her, sweetheart,” he replies, lacing his fingerswith Belle’s firmly.

 “What do you think I’ve been doing?”

 He winces, remembering that while Snow and David haveapparently forgiven and forgotten Regina’s wide array of sins, neither of themlanguished as her prisoner for years on end. And Belle wouldn’t have, if you’dbothered to look for her.  Ah, that’sright.  Rumpel’s sins make Regina’s looklike the mischief of a playground bully. And yet Belle, the best person he knows, has willingly become his wife,and the mother of his child.  Life is sovery funny.

 While Sheriff Brody is attempting to save his picturesquetown from a killer shark, Rumpel feels Belle’s fingers tense sharply betweenhis.  He glances at her and sees she hasher other hand pressed to her stomach.  “Belle,are you all right?” he whispers.

 “I’m... fine.  I justneed to use the toilet.  Help me up?”

 He leaps to guide Belle off the sofa.

 “Excuse me, sorry,” she murmurs to the rest of the group asshe eases out and down the hall to the bathroom.

 Rumpel takes his seat, but watches her go with worrychurning his stomach.  Eventually hemanages to refocus on the film.  He’salmost comprehending dialogue again when Belle’s cry of “RUMPEL!” strikes hisbrain like a bolt of lightning.  He’s atthe bathroom in a literal flash.  “Belle,I’m here, open the door.”

 For an awful moment there’s nothing but a low, torturedmoan.  Then the door cracks open.  He pushes it open to see Belle hunched over,gripping the sink with a puddle of liquid between her feet.  She gives him a tremulous, agonized smile andsays, “Oops.”

 “Okay,” Rumpel breathes, attempting to force his paralyzedbrain into functioning.  “We need... toget to the car.”

 Dismay fills Belle’s face, “Oh, I don’t know if I can do thestairs ag- AH!”  Her body tenses hard andRumpel imagines if she were any stronger she’d tear chunks out of thesink.  All he can do is lay careful handson her arm and back and let her lean into him until it passes.

 “Belle, we need to be home,” he tries to explain, “That wasthe plan, wasn’t it?”  Quite honestly, atthis moment he has no idea what their plan was, despite the hours of work thatwent into it.  He holds up his hands andpurple smoke starts to swirl around them. “Can I just-?”

 “No magic!” she cries, “Not now, I don’t want to travel likethat, when I’m like this.  Please?”

 The smoke vanishes under her desperate gaze.  “Of course, but...  I just...” He glances around and notices the group of people standing four feetaway, staring like this is another scene in the film.

 Snow steps forward, slipping past Rumpel and moving toBelle’s side.  “I guess the baby isn’t afan of Richard Dreyfus, huh?” she remarks gently.

 “Who?” Belle asks, but another contraction steals Snow’sanswer as she moans louder than ever and doubles over.

 “Okay, it’s okay, just keep breathing...” Snow murmurs asshe rubs Belle’s back.  To Rumpel, shesays, “So, poofing her home is out and the stairs are a problem.  What does that leave us?”

 “How about the tub?” Emma suggests, peering over Rumpel’shead.  “Like a water birth.”

 The words snap Rumpel’s brain back into action.  “Yes! That was the plan.  Good.  Belle, w-?”

 “Let’s do that!”Belle wails.

 With a great sweep of his arm, Snow’s narrow tub is replacedby a wide, deep Jacuzzi filled up three-quarters with warm water.

 “Wow,” Snow briefly marvels, “Okay, yeah, great.  Belle, let’s get you, uh... Oh, hey, I thinkwe need a little privacy now, please?”

 To Rumpel’s surprise, Regina turns to the rest of the partyand declares in her most imperious tone, “All right, gawkers, back off. Rumpeland Snow only, let’s give them some space, come on.”  She herds Bae, Emma, and David back down thehall.

 Snow says to Belle, “We’ll get you in the tub soon,okay?  It’ll be nice and warm and you canrelax.  Let’s take off these shoes, andget out of the underwear- just lean on Rumpel, that’s fine...”

 While Snow does the necessaries, Belle’s head droops towardhis shoulder, only to bump against the bloody astronaut helmet he only just nowrealizes he’s still wearing.  “Sorry,sweetheart,” he mumbles, banishing the thing to oblivion where it belongs.  Belle presses her damp forehead into thecurve of his neck, and he smooths a hand over her hair.

 “Okay, we probably want to get that lovely dress offtoo.  Rumpel, if you could unzip theback?”

 They ease Belle out of her costume.  In a moment of whimsy, Rumpel sends it tohang over the curtain rod by the tub where she’ll be able to see the crescentmoon.  He also replaces Belle’s bra witha softer bikini top.  With one last wavehe replaces Snow’s costume with dark blue nurse’s scrubs.  She shoots him a startled look, but wiselysays nothing.  They don’t quite manage toget Belle into the tub before the next contraction hits, and she sags betweenhim and Snow with another bone-deep groan.

 “Almost there, Belle,” Snow croons, “A few more steps- canyou take a few more steps?”

 “I... okay...” she whimpers.

 “I’m here, love,” Rumpel says, “Come on, follow me.”

 They inch up a smooth ramp to the edge of the tub where itparts into a short stairwell.  Bellesighs as soon as her foot enters the water. Snow has her sit on the edge and part her legs so she can take a look atwhat’s going on.

 Holding Belle steady against his chest, Rumpel asks Snow, “Youdo have a fairly clear idea of what you’re doing, yes?”

 “Sure.  I’ve done thisbefore, albeit from Belle’s end, and anyway we’ve been sharing all ourbooks.  I knew she was leaning toward awater birth.  Really, they’re so natural,as long as there aren’t any complications my job’s basically just to standthere and catch.”

 “And if there are- complications?”  Even thinking the word sets off sirens in hishead.

 Snow looks him in the eye, “How about you go and call yourmidwife now, just in case?”

 Cursing himself for not thinking of that sooner, Rumpelgently shifts Belle into Snow’s waiting arms and steps away from the tub andout of the bathroom.  It takes a specialperson to even consider delivering the Dark One’s child, but Mistress Oggseemed downright cheerful about the idea when their paths crossed at thehospital.  She seems cheerful about mostthings, but Rumpel and Belle detected a core of iron in the old woman that wasencouraging enough to bring her on.

 Once he fumbles his way through phoning her, it takesseveral rings and a strange burst of static until a voice sings out, “Coo-eee,Rum, how are things?”  Mistress Ogg’svoice sounds a bit distant, perhaps he’s on speakerphone.  Mountain wind whistles down the line.

 “Belle’s in labor,” he replies shortly while Snow sneaks outaround him and walks down the hall.

 “Ah, a bit early but not bad.  How quick are the contractions coming then?”

 “I... I’ve no idea.” He curses himself once more for letting panic conquer him so completely.

 “To be expected,” Mistress Ogg says breezily.  “I’ll be on the road then.  Could be a little while though, I’ve a longway to go.  She’s in the water now?”

 Rumpel wonders just how far away she can be in Storybrooke,but regardless pokes his head into the bathroom to see Belle leaning back withher arms laid along the edge of the tub, eyes closed, face pale but calm.  “Yes, she is. And we’re not at home.  We’re ata... a friend’s place.”

 “Right, I see.  Bethere as quick as I can, love, not to fret.” She hangs up before Rumpel can give her Snow’s address.  He’s about to call again when a small cryfrom the bathroom has him stuffing his mobile into a pocket and rushing toBelle’s side.  She grips the edges of thetub with her face twisted into a grimace. Rumpel sits behind her and smooths his palms down her tense arms.  “Deep breaths, love,” he reminds her softly.

 Belle drags in and blows out air at a slow, even pace.  She relaxes as the contraction passes.

 “Mistress Ogg is on her way.”

 “Good.”

 “How are you?”

 “Better, now.”  She tiltsher head back and peers up at him to murmur, “Sorry about this.  I know we wanted to be at home.”

 Rumpel just smiles and cradles the back of Belle’s head inhis palm.  “This is perfectly fine, sweetheart.  We’re... we’re with family.”

 That wins him a smile. He dips a hand in the water to check its temperature, stirring in a bitmore heat.  Belle hums and takes a fewmore deep breaths.  Her gaze wanders tothe hanging dress and she inquires dreamily, “We still like the name Lucy,right?”

 They considered every option in the book, and in severalother books, and that was a particularly strong contender.  Though they opted not to learn the genderbeforehand, as her due date has neared Belle’s become thoroughly convincedshe’s having a girl.  “I like it if youdo.”

 “How about Estelle as a middle name?”

 A corner of Rumpel’s mouth curls up.  “Lucille Estelle.”

 “Our starlight.”

 He bends down to kiss the top of Belle’s head.  “Sounds perfect to me.”

 All that’s really left to do is wait.  As the contractions quicken, Snow returns tolift Belle back onto the edge of the tub and check her readiness.

 “I... I feel like I might need to push,” Belle whimpers,twisting clenched fists in Rumpel’s jumpsuit.

 “Well, I think that’s because you need to push,” Snowreplies, “I can see the head.”

 Belle lets out an anxious moan, “But Mistress Ogg isn’there- ah!  I have topush!”

 “Okay, come back in the water, here we go...”  Snow and Rumpel guide Belle into the tub andlet her position herself kneeling with her elbows braced on the edge.

 Snow crouches behind her in the tub while Rumpel comes toface Belle on the outside, letting her grab his hands in a vice grip.  “It’s too soon,” she whispers, “What ifsomething’s wrong?”

 Rumpel rests his forehead against hers.  “Then we’ll handle it.  Everything will be fine, Belle, Ipromise.”  In this moment, despite allevidence, he actually believes that.

 Belle manages a tiny smile before it contorts into a grimaceand her whole body strains.  After amoment, Snow announces, “The head is out! I don’t feel an umbilical cord. Let’s work on the shoulders now.”

 “It hurts...” Belle grits out.

 “I know, but keep going, you’ll get through it soon.”

 “You can do this, sweetheart,” Rumpel murmurs, “I’m righthere with you.  I love you.”

 Belle’s eyes lock on his and don’t break contact even as shegroans and pushes with all her strength. Somewhere far away, Snow says one shoulder is out.  Belle’s groan intensifies into a powerfulbellow.  “That’s it!” Snow cries just asthe bellow stops and Belle’s left panting and trembling, her head falling toRumpel’s shoulder.

 Rumpel looks in wonder as Snow gently lifts a tiny, wrinkly,squirming creature out of the water.  Shewipes at its nose and mouth, it wriggles a little more and releases a plaintivewail.  Belle’s whole body shudders at thesound and she lets out a sob.

 “It’s a girl, Rumpelstiltskin,” Snow says with a beam, “Aperfect little girl.”

 “She- she’s... okay?” he quavers, halfway to sobbinghimself.

 “Seems like it,” Snow replies, wincing a bit at anotherrather piercing cry from the baby, “Let’s have her meet Mom, huh?”

 Rumpel helps Belle carefully turn over.  She’s still shaking, but her arms are steadyas Snow places the baby in them.  Thewailing stops instantly as she snuggles into Belle’s chest.

 “She is perfect,” Rumpel whispers in awe, his chin onBelle’s shoulder.

 “Hello, Lucy,” Belle murmurs, “How nice to meet you.”

 “Our starlight.”

 Minutes or perhaps days later, someone bustles into thebathroom saying, “Cheer-o, ducks!  Lookslike the little mite beat me to the punch. Let’s see what’s left for me to do.” Mistress Ogg makes quick work of tying off and cutting the umbilicalcord.  “There now, how about we have thehappy da bundle up his girl while the afterbirth comes?”

 Rumpel has never wanted to do anything more, or been soafraid to do it.  Belle shifts Lucy intohis arms like she’s made of glass. Mistress Ogg pops off her boots and socks and climbs into the tub whileSnow lays out a clean, soft towel on the floor. Rumpel kneels down and lays Lucy on it, where she immediately frowns andsquirms against the cold.  “Don’t worry,dearest, I’m here,” he whispers while wrapping her up snugly, “There you are, safeand sound.”

 He picks her up and holds her to his chest before moving tosit on the closed toilet seat.  They gazeat each other with tired eyes.  When hersslip shut, he manages to tear his own away and notice Bae standing outside thebathroom, looking more like a nervous teenager than Rumpel would think possible.

 “Baelfire, would you like to meet your sister?”

 His eyebrows jump and he stuffs his hands into his pockets,but he pads into the room and hunches over to grin down at the baby.

 “This is Lucille Estelle Gold.  You can call her Lucy.”

 “Hey, Lucy.  I’m Bae.  Or Baelfire. Or Neal.  Or whatever.”  He and Rumpel chuckle quietly.  Lucy’s eyes crack open and blink a few timesbefore closing again.  “She’s beautiful,Papa.  I can’t believe I’m a bigbrother.”

 “Life is very, very funny, son.”

 Mistress Ogg has drained the tub, swathed Belle in a severaltowels, and delivered the afterbirth before she suggests Lucy try nursing.  Rumpel carries the baby to Belle, and eventhough she seemed quite deeply asleep, she latches on to her mother’s breastquickly.

 “Hungry one, isn’t she?” Mistress Ogg remarks, “That’sfine.  She doesn’t like wasting time, weknow that much.”

 After a while, Belle lets Rumpel perform some very gentlehealing magic so she can get out of the tub at last.  He transforms her bikini top into a looseblack dress that shimmers with silver and blue sparkles.  Her original dress gets bundled up and pushedinto a pocket of Rumpel’s jumpsuit.  Hekeeps one arm firmly wrapped around her waist as they leave the bathroom, Lucyheld close to Belle’s chest.  They findthe rest of the party sitting at the kitchen table, looking on curiously.

 A wide smile stretches across David’s face before he all butbounds over to them.  “What a night,huh?  Are you all okay?”

 “We’re fine,” Belle replies, “Lucy, this is Prince David,your...” Her gaze jumps to the ceiling as she puzzles out the family tree, “Nephew’sother grandfather.”  Emma and Regina havestood and come to flank David.  Belle’sgaze moves over them as she says, “And that’s Princess Emma, your nephew’smother.  And- Regina, his other mother.”

 Emma peers over David’s shoulder and smiles warmly, butdoesn’t seems too interested in getting closer. Regina gives Lucy a smile as well, this one more wistful thananything.  “What a sweet little girl,”she says, her voice softer than Rumpel’s ever heard it.

 “We’ll be going home now, I think,” Belle says, heading tothe door where Snow stands.  “Thank you,”she tells her, “I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

 “Anything you want is yours, Snow,” Rumpel says, “And I domean anything.”

 “Oh, no, please, it was the least I could do...” sheinstantly demurs, up until she bites her lip and mutters, “Can we keep thetub?”

 Rumpel snorts. “Yes.  And you can send me thewater bill.”

 “Deal.  Thanks forcoming to my little party, guys.”

 “We had a... an interesting time,” Belle saysdiplomatically.  Rumpel snickers, thenguides his wife and daughter through the door as Snow holds it open.  Mistress Ogg follows, coming along to helpthem settle in at home.  The small familyheads into the future together.

[hashtagfarrakhan]

Day 18: Mother Tynnetta Muhammad

  Mother Tynnetta Muhammad was born Tynnetta Alethea Nelson on May 10, 1941, in Detroit, Michigan. Since early childhood she studied many world cultures and societies. A gifted child in oratorical and writing skills, she developed a wide range of creative expression in the performing arts, including theater and dance. She often appeared in public recitals and was a regular performer on local television stations at an early age. At age 16, Mother Tynnetta Muhammad embraced the Divine Teachings of the Most Honorable Elijah Muhammad, and received her “X” at 17 in 1958. The Most Honorable Elijah Muhammad’s Teachings guided her to the study of the Holy Qur’an. Ever since, she remained devoted to the study of the Divine Word of God.

  She eventually married the Most Honorable Elijah Muhammad, Leader of the Nation Of Islam in America. Together they had four children, Madeeah Muhammad, Ishmael Muhammad, Rasul Muhammad and Ahmad Muhammad. Her Study of the Holy Qur’an became the foundation of her music computational works and creative spirit. Mother Tynnetta Muhammad was self-taught without formal training in music theory or instrumentation and credited her musical expression to be - “A Gift from Allah and an answer to a Prayer.”

Mother Tynnetta Muhammad with her husband The Most Honorable Elijah Muhammad.

   In 1959 she was chosen to be the first Muslim Woman columnist in the Pittsburgh Courier, the Lost Angeles Herald Dispatch, and the Muhammad Speaks newspapers, writing under the title “The Woman in Islam.” Mother Tynnetta wrote a weekly column in the Final Call newspaper entitled, Unveiling the Number 19. She participated in many noteworthy international conferences and authored several publications on Islam rooted in the Divine Teachings of the Honorable Elijah Muhammad from its global perspective.

  Mother Tynnetta began the publication of the Cultural Links News Journal in 2002 to support the Honorable Elijah Muhammad Educational Foundation, a nonprofit organization which she founded in 1978 to promote the expression of the cultural arts. Through the publication of Cultural Links, Mother Tynnetta was able to promote educational programming dedicated to the study of the arts and sciences of civilization to audiences around the world.

Mother Tynnetta Muhammad pausing from reading the Holy Qur’an.

  She was the fashion designer of the Dress 19 collection and introduced the Al-Tai Fashahnn ensemble, inspired from her journey to the Al-Tai Republic in Russia. Some of her fashion designs were featured in the July 1996 issue of Essence magazine and in the Spring 2013 issue of Virtue Today Magazine.

  Mother Tynnetta Muhammad was greatly aided and supported throughout the years by the late, Alice Coltrane wife of the legendary jazz artist and genius, John Coltrane. Mother Tynnetta cultivated a lifetime and endearing friendship with the late Syretta Wright (Muhammad), former Motown performing artist, lyricist, and former wife of Stevie Wonder. Syretta is the founder of the performing artists and dance ensemble The Divine Hands. Other notable friendships include the late Miriam Makeeba, Mrs. Winnie Mandela, rap artist and movie producer, O’Shea (Ice Cube) Jackson and wife, Kimberley Jackson. Mother Tynnetta developed friendship with the Unification Church and its leadership and Founder, the Reverend and Mrs. Sun Myung Moon, affectionately referred to as “True Parents” and “Mother and Father Moon.” Through them the doors of communication and cultural links were opened to the Mongolian people.

Mother Tynnetta Muhammad with Erykah Badu and India Arie at the Millions More Movement.

  In 2009, the Honorable Minister Louis Farrakhan introduced one of Mother Tynnetta’s original compositional works entitled Ta Ha: The Final Call Symphonic Suite to a large audience during the Saviours; Day Convention. Mother Tynnetta Muhammad was an assistant and Spiritual Helper to the Honorable Minister Louis Farrakhan, appointed by her husband to help continue this Great Work of Divine Unity and Global Mission in the Spiritual Resurrection of Our people world-wide embracing the whole of humanity.

  She attended an International Leadership Conference in Mongolia accompanied by two outstanding Vanguard, Sister Anita Muhammad from Washington D.C. and Sister Vivian Lee from the Oakland California Bay Area. This event inspired Mother Tynnetta to present an entrepreneurial and ambassadorial training program for the MGT Vanguards in partnership with the entire MGT class. Mother Muhammad was gifted withe a psychic sense of perception seeing into the future of a new world, which will flourish upon the vibrations of peace and unlimited progress for the Righteous.

 Below is a few words from interviews Mother Tynnetta Muhammad had with Virtue Magazine:

Virtue: What things did you teach your children as they were growing up? What values did you feel were important to teach them?

Mother Tynnetta: I believe it is important to give children a strong spiritual base. they must learn to nurture God, honor and respect, prayer and cleanliness.

Virtue: What did you learn about Virtue from the Honorable Elijah Muhammad? What is the state of Virtue of women Today? What changed do we need to make as women?

Mother Tynnetta: Women are being abused in society today and children are being raped and murdered. There are psychological imbalances in male and female relationships because of the lack of respect. No virtue in a woman demonstrates the type of leadership society is under. the female energy has to give back, to give balance. Women should be trained by all women teachers. Women need to be put back in our rightful place. Keeping that family together and the virtuous is on the woman. We need to reeducate the male. We, as women, have to be aware of how we act and dress and its affect on society we are part of. The Mother’s Eye has to be attentive, even of the father.

Virtue: How can we encourage music and culture with our children?

Mother Tynnetta- First of all, each mother and father has to go inside themselves. There is a certain frequency that we all have, a certain tonality, a certain sound or temperament we all have, but because our lives have been so “noisy” or I should say our environment has been so “jammed” with so many expressions from rock and roll to rap that we have rarely touched upon these types of vibrations inside of us or even know how to respond to it when it is there. I remember coming up in school and we would go see symphonies. One does not have to be trained in musical instrument to get in touch with inner vibrations and frequency of sound. Exposing our children to nature, flowers, insects etc., will help them find that inner nitch. The more that we expose our children to museums, science museums, art museums and ballets, the better outlook they will have. I would expose my children and take them when I traveled. Today they say “mom exposed us to so many things which is why we have such a global outlook.” We must raise our children in such a way because they have the potential to become great artists and cultural benefactors. But if we are lazy and don’t make programs in which we include them, [they won’t learn as much.] Children learn by example.

Virtue: How can we as women help to be helpers or Vanguards in building a righteous Nation?

Mother Tynnetta: well, the kind of energy I had since my youth continues with me. If you put our positive energy and think of how to “grow” an idea or situation into the future, then you are going to force the mind to create for you your reality. I am saying that is most important as a Vanguard myself and having come up through the ranks as a MGT and GCC under the leadership of the late Ethel Muhammad, the eldest daughter of the Honorable Elijah Muhammad. She encouraged the young people to have their own activities within the class structure. That is how I got involved with teaching the MGT and GCC juniors and we got involved with everything we wanted to and we would just report it to the MGT such as writing, poetry, etc. We even produced a book that The Honorable Elijah Muhammad approved that has stories of Islam. We had art classes and ceramics up until around 1972 or 1974, just on the edge of the Honorable Elijah Muhammad’s departure. What we tried to do is take our minds and be creative. We have to think positively and bring or [work] through, as much as we can, what is considered to be negativity in our environment that prevents us from being who we are.

Virtue: Good point. Thank You.

   Mother Tynnetta represented in life, from her childhood in Detroit through her matriculation and development into a world-traveler and cultured and refined woman of the Nation of Islam, her contribution to the world will impact generations. She is a Divine Woman and a great example of how a genius thinks like and what a Queen looks and acts like. A warrior, a mother, a great cook, a scholar, a scientist, the NOI ambassador of culture, a composer, musician, an actress, a dancer and much more. She work continues to inspire many in the global mission of the Teachings of The Most Honorable Elijah Muhammad.

Watch and read some of Mother Tynnetta’s articles and lectures here:

http://www.finalcall.com/artman/publish/search-fcn/search-fcn.shtml?q=mother%20tynnetta%20muhammad

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=mother+tynnetta

(What was written was transcribed from Saviours’ Day edition of Virtue Magazine. VirtueTodayMag.com)

[sending-the-message]

Case #1- Suspected Supernatural Activity In A Strip Club by JacobMielke

When I first moved to Milwaukee, I spent my days lounging about my new home, avoiding human contact. Eventually I figured it wasn’t healthy to be a shut-in at my age and I should make an effort at pretending to be a socially adept person.

That was why I found myself sitting in a dive bar, staring at a young woman sitting by herself at a table across the room. Her hair was dyed bright red and her arms were adorned with tattoos of various religious symbols, a pride flag, several pokemon, and a facial portrait of Linda Blair. She was stirring a martini and looked bored.

Now, I’ve never known how to chat up people. My one and only relationship came about when both of us realized we were already dating, so it’s not like I know how to make conversation.

Still, one must do what one can.

To this day, I am too ashamed to share my fumbling attempts to seem cool. I must have done something right because she let me sit with her and we conversed. Her name was Moxxy, which she told me was a play on her actual name, Molly. I introduced myself.

“It’s nice to meet you, Moxxy. My name’s Jacob. Mielke, in case you… I don’t know, wanted to know.” I internally screamed. Both the angel and the devil on my shoulders cringed.

“Milky? Like, the Milky Way Galaxy? Got Milk? Milk duds?”

“I’ve been called all of those at some point, yes. Jacob Mielke, like the drink, only not spelled the same.”

“How do you spell it?”

“M-i-e-l-k-e. It’s Italian.” I tried to pull off the accent and failed. I’m about as Italian as Olive Garden.

“Why does that sound so familiar? Did we go to school together?” She leaned forward, smiling mischievously. I didn’t have a clue who she was, and I think I’d remember meeting someone with such a unique sense of fashion.

“No, I lived in Pennsylvania my whole life. Just moved here a while ago.”

She grabbed my arm in a vice grip and I let out a rather unmanly yelp. She stared hard into my eyes. They were a lovely hazel, not that it mattered to me at the moment. “Do you write scary stories?”

As it turned out, Moxxy was a fan of my story A Lack of Empathy, which I’d posted on a creepypasta website years earlier. We had a long discussion about my bibliography, which culminated in her agreeing to check out more of my stories. And thus began a long and fruitful friendship. I never did end up getting into her pants like I’d originally planned but truth be told, it was nice just to have another friend in this strange, new city.

One day, several months after our meeting, I mentioned in passing that I wanted to try writing nonfiction work. She… took it to heart, would be a polite way of putting it.

“Oh my God, we have to go ghost hunting or something. You could be like a supernatural detective and you can write about your findings! People will love you!”

I admit, the idea was intriguing. I don’t think there are any horror writers who don’t believe, in some small way, there’s a hidden world under our own. A world that can’t be explained or seen, only glimpsed. Personally… well, let’s just say I’ve seen some things that absolutely inspired my work.

For our first “case”, as she called it, Moxxy suggested we go to a strip club she knew. I’m going to omit the name so as not to piss off the wrong people (the heavily armed people, that is). It didn’t take much prompting for me to agree to go. Can’t imagine why. Anyway, Moxxy said that some of the dancers at the club quit after experiencing “supernatural activity”. The plan was to go, buy private dances from a few of the women and question if they’d noticed anything out of the ordinary. I thought it might be easier (not to mention cheaper) to try asking them at the bar or something but if she wanted to do it via private dances, then damn it, I was going to respect her wishes.

I did some research on the club to prep for our investigation. Most of what I found was articles and opinion pieces posted online by people who have dedicated their lives to combating the evils of what consenting adults do in private. There were, however, a few that caught my eye. One article referenced an incident in which an employee disappeared. Apparently a bouncer named John Doe (totally his real name, guys) showed up for work one night and was never seen again. The owner and dancers confirmed seeing him there, doing his job, but at some point no one was paying attention to him anymore and then when they went to find him later, he was gone.

Another was a post on reddit (now deleted) claiming that a dancer had gone missing on a night she was scheduled to work. They attached a photo of her as well. It’s hard to tell how reliable that info is, as there were no sources to back it up and none of the commentators knew anything useful.

Eventually the night arrived. Moxxy and I took the bus to the club, where she just strolled right in without the bouncer saying shit about it. She winked at me and I stared murder at her while the bouncer took my money and ID. The club was packed; every seat around the stages held a man (and the occasional woman) with a fist-full of dollars. Moxxy suggested we split up to cover more ground (her investigative technique was plopping down in one of the chairs and staring at a voluptuous woman dancing upside-down on a pole). I was approached by my first dancer less than a minute after taking a seat at the bar.

“Hey, baby. You mind if I sit here?” She had a heavy Russian accent. I consented to her presence and we made small talk while I waited for her to propose a dance, as per experience dictated.

Did I say experience? I meant research. I’d researched strip club etiquette, not experienced it.

I paid for three dances and hinted that I was willing to spend more if kept happy. It was hard to get a question at first, she was really a fan of that thing exotic dancers do when they rub their breasts on your face. Eventually though, I asked: “So I heard that some weird things happen here. Like maybe the place is haunted. Ever notice anything weird around here?”

She stopped grinding on my lap abruptly, which was a sufficient answer in and of itself. “Where did you hear that?”

“A friend of mine knows some people who used to work here. She said they were scared by ghosts or something?”

“There’s no ghosts here.” She hesitated, then leaned in and whispered: “But I think there might be something. Sometimes when I walk by the basement door, I can hear my Babushka talking, telling me to come down. But she’s been dead for years.”

“How do you know it’s not her ghost?”

“I know my Babushka.” She dropped her eyes and I saw goosebumps appear on all over her. “I loved her and she loved me. Whatever that thing is, it does not love me. I can hear it in the voice.”

The remaining time in our dance was awkward. I let her wiggle, passionless and tense, on my lap until the songs were over and tipped her extra. I looked for Moxxy while returning to my seat at the bar but couldn’t find her in the crowd. Maybe she’d gotten a private dance. I waited but when four songs had passed she was still nowhere to be seen. The first inklings of doubt entered my mind. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to go looking for… whatever this thing was. Another five songs passed and my concern blossomed into worry.

I found a man at the bar who looked like he belonged there and tapped his shoulder. “Hey buddy, have you been here before?”

He turned slowly to look at me with one eye (his other was too obscured by a drooping eyelid to be of much use). When he spoke I noticed his breath was infused with enough alcohol to sterilize a hospital. “Sure am.”

“Do you know where I can find the basement?”

He slurred some directions and pointed to the back of the club, near the restrooms.

“Thank you.”

“Welcome. I love you, man.”

“I love you too, sir. You have a nice night.”

It took me a minute to actually find the basement entrance. All the other doors in the establishment were painted black but the basement door was the same shade of red as the walls of the club. I couldn’t help but feel like they were intentionally hiding it from customer view (understandable). I made sure no one was watching and pressed my ear to the door.

Three things happened in the space of a few seconds. The first made my blood cold (you think that’s a silly saying? It’s not. When gripped in a state of intense fear, your brain releases epinephrine and cortisol to prepare your body to fight or flee. A side effect is a perceived rapid temperature drop). Someone (something) was scratching the door on the other side. It was too soft to be heard over the music, unless you were as close as me. I tried to think of a reason why a person would rake their nails on the door like that but I couldn’t. No one would do that unless they were crazy or intentionally trying to scare someone.

The second thing to happen… well, I’m not sure anything did happen. Materially speaking, at least. What I thought was happening was some kind of energy was pouring from the door and mixing with mine. For a split second I became convinced that some kind of consciousness was touching my mind. Something not human. More than that, just as I knew it was there, it was also aware of me.

And that was that. Mind made up, time to go. Except… you know that moment in a horror movie where a character does something really stupid?

The third thing to happen was the scratching stopped and the whispering began. I couldn’t make out what the voice was saying but the longer I listened, the more convinced I became that it was Moxxy’s.

Occam’s Razor: something, some ghost or demon or mimic monster, was using Moxxy’s voice to lure me into the basement. I’d become the next person to disappear in the club. The smart thing to do was obviously to walk away. And yet… Moxxy was missing. Why would she leave without me? It was her idea to come here in the first place. What if she went down there while I was getting a dance?

What if it wasn’t too late to save her?

I opened the door wide. Nothing stood before me. There was a light switch on the wall at the top of the stairs and I used it before taking a few steps down. Light flooded the basement and the terror that gripped me only moments ago vanished. I descended the rest of the way and looked around. The basement was a single, open room supported in places with cement pillars. Boxes were everywhere, piled from floor to ceiling in some places. Moxxy wasn’t down here but on the far side of the room was something that caught my attention: a hole in the wall. I crossed the room for a closer look. It was a perfect circle, like a laser beam cut through the concrete. It was about two feet across. While I examined it, two footsteps thudded at the top of the stairs. I turned and saw a man wearing the bouncer’s uniform standing in the doorway. His face was grim.

“Whatever you do, don’t scream.”

He retreated through the door and shut it. Before I could take a step in its direction, the light vanished. The fear returned. There was something in the basement and it was between me and the door. I could feel it there, feel its malice.

When flight is impossible and fighting isn’t an option, the human animal has a third defense mechanism rarely used: freeze. I didn’t so much as twitch a muscle in the dark. My breath was as shallow as I could make it without passing out and I squeezed my eyes shut. There was a shuffling in front of me and a raspy hiss that grew louder as my companion inched closer. Then it was in front of me, then all around me. The noise ceased completely and something touched me, just barely brushing the hairs on my arm.

Light shone in the basement and I saw it even through my closed eyelids. There was a bang and a voice I didn’t recognize: “Over here!”

I opened my eyes and turned my head in the direction of the sound. A young woman wearing flashy lingerie and body glitter (a dancer from the club?) stood in a doorway on the side of the basement. I hadn’t even noticed it was there before, I was so fixated on the hole in the wall. The dancer waved me over urgently. “This way!”

I moved for the door but a voice from behind once again froze me in place before I could reach it. “No… stay. Stay here with me. I won’t hurt you. I have things I want to show you.”

I raised a foot to step forward but moving was slow, like the air had turned to tar.

“Stay, Jacob. You’re just like me, a child of darkness. Stay. You can accomplish so much more down here with me. Just turn around… look at me.”

The woman in the doorway shook her head. “Don’t do it!”

A small puff of cold air hit my ear and a voice whispered mere centimeters from me, “Look at me.”

I bolted for the door. The woman turned and ran as well and I heard her high heels clanging on something metal. It was a staircase. The door led outside from the basement to an alley behind the club. I rushed up the stairs, but couldn’t resist looking back. The basement door was swinging shut on its own. In the moments before it closed, I saw a pair of eyes looking at me from the dark. They flashed green and yellow, like cat eyes. It was less than a second. But I looked. I saw.

I didn’t see the woman in the alley, nor did I see her when I went around to the front of the building. But I did see Moxxy, standing near the front door. She looked surprised to see me. “Sorry man, I got kicked out. Apparently you’re not allowed to put your fingers in the girls here. I was expecting you to come out the front. Did you learn anything from that Russian chick?”

I looked around. The woman couldn’t have gone so far so quickly. But she was gone. “Hey, did you see one of the dancers come running out before me?”

“No, just you. Jesus dude, are you okay? You’re shaking!”

It took two days to convince Moxxy I wasn’t making up a story. Two days for her to believe there really was something in the basement, something not as physical as a person yet not as immaterial as a spirit. She wasn’t very sensitive about how close I came to… well, something tells me death isn’t a strong enough word to cover it. More than anything else, she was excited. In her mind, our new investigation team was in full force and we’d just opened our first case.

Though I was too terrified to realize it at the time, the bouncer who stood at the top of the stares and the dancer who led me to safety had faces I’d seen before, in pictures on the internet on articles and posts about missing strip club employees.

The terror I’d experienced faded over time. I think the mind has a way of refusing to feel certain things, in order to protect itself. I still think about that day sometimes and I’ve never forgotten those eyes (“Look at me.”). Still, life has mostly gone on as normal.

Well, not normal. Over the years, Moxxy and I encountered a great many things that could generously be referred to as unusual. I didn’t get around to publishing our stories or the adventures of the tiny amateur group that would eventually become Mielke Investigations until now. I did write about them though, keeping my musings and notes and findings in folders on my computer marked as cases. This one, obviously, was Case #1.

I do plan on sharing more of our cases once I figure out the technical details and rules (like should I put a series tag on these posts even if they’re all stand-alone stories?) both on this site and my professional author page (which you can view here by the way).

I’m not sure why I want to share these stories or even why I seek out the paranormal in the first place. I think it has something to do with what that thing in the basement said about me being a “child of darkness”. I don’t consider myself a bad person but I do write about evil. Not only as fiction but now also as my experiences with it. I record the dark things and then bring them to you. Maybe that’s enough to count me among them.

Or not, I’m basically talking out my ass at this point. Thanks for reading about my experiences. There will be more cases to come. In the meantime, some advice: when you go to a strip club, try to stay with the crowd. And don’t go in the basement.

[ktkski2017-blog]

Luke’s Thoughts

February 8, 2017

I asked Luke to write up a blog post about his experiences over the last few days and he sent me the following thoughts:

"Talent is universal. Opportunity is not." - Nicholas Kristoff   

A few nights ago, we joined some of the other health care workers staying at the hospital complex for a bonfire. After getting to talking with them, one of them, Beth, who was a lawyer back in the US and is the wife of Dr. Larry Smith, mentioned that she has been visiting local rural village schools with her Swahili teacher. She suggested I may be able to join her on one of the visits. So after arranging the details, she and I met [Tuesday] morning at the gate to the complex at 8:30 am morning to be picked up by Millicent, her teacher. Millicent Garama is a cheerful, short, stout woman maybe in her late 50s. She speaks perfect English with a thick Kenyan accent. She is the programs director for an organization that focuses on empowering girls and removing barriers to education. Its called For The Good PERIOD, and I'm pretty sure the pun is intended. She is also a nurse by training. She came to pick us up with her driver, Evan. Evan is in his early 20s and a fashionable guy. He wore a clean baseball cap with the bill only slightly curved. We were taking his car, which I could tell from looking at the console was clearly an Asian import, as the digital display (showing a non functioning GPS) was in an Eastern Asian language. Before leaving town we had to pick up one more person for the trip: Pauline. Pauline is a nurse at PCEA Chogoria Hospital in the NICU. Also likely in her early 20's, and judging by her chic look, she took a bit of time getting ready for the day while we waited for her.   So we set off. Evan had the radio on; Ace of Base, Sting and other rock ballads provided some fun energy as we got acquainted with each other. Pauline was born and attended all her schooling in Chogoria, including graduating from the hospital's nursing program. Beth recently arrived in town from Alaska, her husband a physician. They will be staying here for two years. We headed South but soon turned East. The road soon turned to dirt and was very dusty. We drove for probably an hour, passing mango orchards (is that what it’s called? As Millicent pointed out, it was a beautiful and delicious sight), coffee plantations, corn fields and, unexpectedly to me, a lot of sunflower fields. The road became more rocky, the houses and buildings passed from brick and concrete to wood and traditional mud huts with thatched roofs. There was an occasional motorcycle, but most people walked around these parts, carrying their water and harvests on their backs. After passing several schools, we finally pulled in to the drive of 'our school.' Like an African cliche many of the kids, wearing their blue and yellow uniforms, came running out to us - yelling and smiling as we got out of the car. Some not as sure, held back just looking at the new arrivals. Others, like a very young student eating his food (which was also all over his face and collar) got right up close saying "hello" and shaking hands. Across the school yard, under a tree sat a small group of parents. They are who we came to talk with. Some of the older students brought out desks for us to sit on under the tree. The parents sat on the ground and rocks. They were self-segregated by sex. The 5 men sat close together off to the side, while the women spread around the base of the tree and a nearby water cistern. By the end, there were maybe 30 or so parents. After we introduced ourselves (with Millicent translating - I got the feeling that very little English is used out here) Millicent began her discussion. Speaking in a cousin language of kiswahili (it was Embu I believe), she did short translations for us in between her thoughts and after others spoke. Pauline took notes. Millicent spoke on the importance of education for the children, of parents being active in their children's schooling and community. The main point was universal: it takes a village to raise a child. The school administrator shared the school’s mission statement, motto and objective: it boiled down to students’ success in life and school and community development. She then got into a more serious discussion, asking frank and likely uncomfortable questions for a fairly conservative culture.  It took a bit of pressing to get the parents to share their thoughts regarding the challenges the community faces: Alcoholism, especially among men, puts a larger burden on the women to take care of the children. Next, clean drinking water. Maybe 100 or 150 houses have piped water but it’s still not safe, clean water. The rest use a nearby silty river. Typhoid, amoebiasis, and other water borne health risks are a common issue - even with the piped water. Millicent asked who boils their water. With very few replying she pushed on and had all parents verbally commit to boiling their drinking water. What about the schools drinking water? Impractical to boil that much water (especially since the school did not have a kitchen). Perhaps the school can get supplied with "water guard." I was informed by Beth that it’s essentially an additive containing beach. Millicent will look into that, but the school may have to share the costs. Toilets: very few homes had them, so Millicent explained the importance of sanitation. Next, HIV/AIDS: many women expressed concerns, though it is a subject with a lot of stigma and is rarely talked about openly so it is unclear exactly how prevalent it is in the community. Millicent will bring an HIV/AIDS positive person to talk to the community and share what it’s like to live with the disease (at a later date). She will also try to bring a nurse and the supplies to do private testing for those those desire it. As I mentioned the school had no kitchen and lack of food is always a problem. She and the school administrator will look into government subsidized food availability. In closing, she stressed 1) the importance of parents becoming more engaged in their children’s education and health, 2) sharing concerns with the community Chief, and 3) pressuring the local government for better or more reliable services, were some practical places to start. After wrapping up the conversation, a prayer, and expressing gratitude (by a rhythm clap), Millicent presented the teachers with two (deflated) footballs (soccer balls). We were then given a tour of the school grounds by a teacher. Currently food is cooked over an open fire in large iron cauldrons in what is supposed to be the administration building. I poked my head in to the building window; today it looked like beans and corn were on the menu. The out-houses (pit toilets) were in disrepair. They were made of rusted corrugated metal sheeting; the teacher told us that the ground is very hard to dig deep holes with the amount of rock in the soil. The staff's out-house was held up by long branches but that was not currently being used because a snake had evidently found it to be a nice home (I assume it is a venomous/dangerous snake). Instead, the staff was using the newest built toilets, intended for the students. The classrooms were a Minimalist’s dream: simple wooden desks and a painted-on chalk board, with very few supplies. Each room was designated for a grade. One of the rooms had been converted to be used for administration since the admin building was the 'kitchen' now. There was also a smaller room for higher ed. test prep. The school also had a few solar panels that supplied power to one or two of the higher grade classrooms. The footballs, now inflated by a local man with a pump, were shared with the students. The teacher giving us the tour called all the students to group up, girls in one group, boys in another. In a very awkward turn of events, Millicent pushed me and Beth to give them the balls. The image of two white people giving African children gifts was not lost on either of us. But the children were happy they had new footballs as they did not already have any. They gave thanks by clapping in rhythm. After final goodbyes to the children and some of the parents, we began our dusty, rocky, slow trip back. We stopped at the river providing water to the community on the way. It was a good size and beautiful from a natural perspective. But is was also very silty. A new damn was being built near the road, likely to divert drinking water Millicent said. While we were there, a man pulled up on his motorcycle with several yellow jugs on the back (formally used for petroleum). He was gathering water for his home. On the way to the school Beth expressed interest in the traditional mud huts we saw along the way. As we continued back to Chogoria, Millicent asked Beth if she would like to stop and take a picture of one. Beth said she would not be comfortable with that unless she had permission from the home owner. That got a good smile and chuckle from Evan. Millicent, being the cheerfully assertive person she is, had Evan stop at the next hut we passed, got out of the care and started walking down the short path to the house. The home owners agreed to let us take pictures. As I was walking up to the homes (there were three), I felt very uncomfortable. This was voyeuristic and exploiting people’s lives. That feeling soon diminished: we met the owners, shaking hands and complementing their homes, goats, and shamba (garden/land). It’s the proper thing to do in Kenya: express how much you enjoy the country/community/home. Kenyans enjoy hearing that. After a few photos, we showed the residents. They enjoyed looking at our cell phone screens with the pictures on them. Even Pauline and Evan took some pictures in front of the house. Pauline was exceptionally excited about it. I'm not sure who suggested it, Millicent or the residents, but before I knew it I was being asked to get back in front of the hut with the owners for pictures. For some reason they really wanted a picture taken with me, the white male from the U.S.A. - They did not care for pictures with any of the others. Now I was the one being exploited! I figured it was a fair trade. But how could we get them the pictures, they did not have E-mail or internet. How could they? They didn't even have electricity. Millicent and Beth would try to find access to a printer back in Chogoria, maybe at the hospital, The next time Millicent passes by (on her way to one of the schools) she will drop of paper copies. The rest of the way back to Chogoria was uneventful. Beth slept, Pauline scrolled Facebook on her phone, and Millicent and Evan had a conversation in Swahili. I enjoyed the view out the window wishing I could have a mango orchard. -Luke