#Carrot Cake Murder

[watchinghallmark]

Carrot Cake Murder: A Hannah Swensen Murder - May 19th on Hallmark Movies & Mysteries

Hannah Swensen, everyone’s favorite crime-solving baker, is back on the case when the discovery of a skeleton in an old building sparks a murder investigation. Starring Alison Sweeney, Cameron Mathison, Gabriel Hogan and Barbara Niven.

[hallmark-movie-fanatics]

Carrot Cake Murder: A Hannah Swensen Mysteries - photo preview 2 of 2

[radioisntdead]

AHAHHAHAHSHSHHD I HAVE A REQUESTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT IF YOU DON'T MIND BUT CAN YOU DO A HUSBAND ALASTOR X CRYBABY READER

Good evening my dear! Indeed I can!

I'm on a songfic fix at the moment so hopefully you don't mind me turning this into one, if you do just let me know and I can write a proper oneshot, drabble or headcanons

Crybaby

Warnings:

Murder, Alastor being weird, mild angst, OOC, the ending is a bit muddled because lack of motivation hit me like a TRUCK.

The song I chose for obvious reasons

You seem to replace your brain with your heart, You take things so hard and then you fall apart

You always had what one would call a bleeding heart, tears would overflow at the slightest instance, you fell onto the ground? Tears, you saw a rabbit munching on a carrot? Tears fell because it was just SO cute, you sobbed as you stabbed a guy to death, blubbering out apologies saying you wouldn't have to do it if he had JUST kept his mouth shut and didn't say those awful, awful things.

You try to explain, but before you can start

You met Alastor when the two of you were alive, he was an aspiring radio host at the time and well, your father ran a rather popular radio station.

Those "Cry baby" tears come out of the dark

You were considered the favorite child, (or the only child depending on the route you go) and Alastor knew that, he wasn't above using people to climb up the social ladder.

Someone's turning the handle to that faucet in your eyes

Everything was planned out, like how the two of you met, he found out what places you frequented, choosing a cafe to be the place to run into you.

You had accidentally poured warm coffee on his clothes, you cried out apologies as you patted him dry with napkins, offering to pay for drycleaning.

You pour it out where everyone can see

And that was it, it started with him charming you, asking you out for coffee, lunch, dinners and eventually he had you hooked.

Your heart's too big for your body, it's why it won't fit inside

Him eventually catching feelings for you was just the icing on the cake, a bonus, you and him felt similarly to certain affections.

His mother quite liked you as well asking him to bring you by again when you met her the first time.

You pour it out where everyone can see

As the relationship grew, he became a prominent radio personality, eventually proposing to you leading to marriage.

They call you cry baby, cry baby

Alastor was supposed to be working late that night, you weren't expecting him to come home as you washed the blood off of your hands, blood stained the bathroom sink, dried tears leaving faint streaks on your face.

But you don't fucking care

"Mon étoile?"

You slowly turned around as if you were in a horror movie, the one person you didn't want to see you like this.

Cry baby, cry baby

You burst into tears falling onto the ground, not even trying to explain yourself, Alastor grinned and moved next to you, gently wiping away your tears taking silent joy from them.

So you laugh through your tears

You laughed as Alastor gave a light smooch onto your face.

Cry baby, cry baby

And that begun a new era of your relationship,

You'd act as bait luring in the folks you and Alastor felt like taking away their living privileges.

'Cause you don't fucking care

You lived like that for years, taking many lives, shedding many tears, a killer couple.

Tears fall to the ground

Unfortunately all good things come to an end.

You'll just let them drown

Alastor went to dispose of a body while you cleaned up the aftermath.

You'll just let them drown

The police showing up and breaking the news to you that your dearest Alastor was shot in the head and attacked by dogs shattered you.

Cry baby, cry baby

You spent your days crying, barely being able to organize a funeral that no one other then you attended, after all who would attend the funeral of a murderer.

You're all on your own and you lost all your friends

You were alone now, sure your family urged you to move back home, you were still a sweetheart with a bleeding heart to them, you just fell for Alastor's schemes, that no one saw coming.

You spent your days crying, clinging on to any remnants of Alastor, your social life took a huge hit.

You told yourself that it's not you, it's them

They whispered behind your back, theorizing if you were apart of the murders or not, if you knew, if you were truly innocent.

You're one of a kind and no one understands

You were found dead in your home, alone.

But those "Cry baby" tears keep coming back again

You woke up in hell, you knew you probably weren't going to heaven but still!

Someone's turning the handle to that faucet in your eyes

Tears swelled up in your eyes but you wiped them away before they could fall deciding to look around and assess your situation.

You pour it out where everyone can see

Wandering around you passed by a shop with a radio present in it, reminding you of your dear Alastor.

Your heart's too big for your body, it's why it won't fit inside

The tears started pouring, and before you could do anything else, someone touches your shoulder.

You pour it out where everyone can see

You've been down below for who knew how long now, bring found by Mimzy of all people, a good friend of yours, and Alastor's.

They call you cry baby, cry baby

Mimzy showed up at Alastor's home banging on the front door, you stood a few feet away from her, He opened it displeased at the sudden visit but he smiled wide nonetheless.

"Mimzy dear, pray tell why you are banging on my door at this unholy hour?" He asked, simply hearing his voice the waterworks began as Mimzy pulled you out from where you stood.

But you don't fucking care

Alastor's eyes ever so slightly widened, it hadn't been that long since he died, he suspected you would follow suit eventually but not this quickly.

Cry baby, cry baby

"I believe this one is yours, they've been crying on and off, it's driving me crazy" Mimzy said shoving you into Alastor as you grinned up at him through blurry eyes

So you laugh through your tears

"I missed you." You said as Alastor touched your face, brushing a claw over it, you, much like him and every other sinner looked different from when you were alive, you had permanent gold tear streaks stitched into your face, how ironic.

Cry baby, cry baby

Alastor simply grinned, wiping away a tear.

"You haven't changed a bit, Mon étoile."

'Cause you don't fucking care

"You can pay me back for reunitin' ya lovebirds later!"

Mimzy laughed before running off to do who knows what, making a swift exit for plot convenience.

Tears fall to the ground

And that was that, you were finally reunited.

You'll just let them drown

While Alastor was given the name of The Radio demon you were referred to as the Crying demon,

How original.

Cry baby, cry baby

While Alastor stuck fear with a smile, hearing you wail in the distance stuck fear into others, you'd apologize as you ripped sinners apart just like you did in life.

You'll just let them drown

You watched as Alastor developed a cannibalistic taste for sinners, he opted to bring you sinner hearts as a token of affection,

You teared up from how sweet the extremely messed up act was.

Cry baby, cry baby

You also watched as Alastor's personal hygiene got worse, to the point where you'd chase him down with a sponge and a bucket of water, or before bed with a toothbrush and some toothpaste.

Much to his chagrin he was never able to escape you chasing him.

You'll just let them drown

Alastor's more sadistic tendencies were revealed in full force, with him biting and pinching your cheeks just hard enough to make you cry.

It wasn't a deal breaker but it did weird you out at first.

I look at you and I see myself

Alastor brought you to the Hazbin hotel after Husk and Niffty were pulled from wherever,

You quickly gained an affection for the hotel and it's residents, Alastor may have been using the hotel for his own entertainment but you genuinely believed in Charlie's dream of redeeming sinners.

And I know you better than anyone else

Becoming another parental figure for the princess you showered her with advice and familial affection, saying if you had a child you'd want them to be just like her.

And I have the same faucet in my eyes

Vaggie wasn't spared from the parental affection either, Alastor might not have been fond of her but you were.

So your tears are mine

You eventually became like the hotels therapist, a very prone to crying therapist but a therapist none the less.

You and Charlie tended to cry together especially if the two of you decided to put a emotionally charged movie on for movie nights

They call me cry baby, cry baby

You cried when extermination day happened, taking out exorcists left and right, your tears were filled with anger as you witnessed what happened to Sir Pentious.

But I don't fucking care

You cried tears of joy when the hotel was rebuilt and when Alastor came back from wherever he was.

Cry baby, cry baby

"You are an complete and utter MORON,"

"Mon étoile, W̴̝̖͙̩̹̓͆̏͌̒̔̑͐̕h̶͔̲̄ă̵̟̥͙̥͖͚̋̍̓̓̇̕ţ̶̧͇̞̟͈͔͉̦͋̄͂̌́̉͗ ̸̛̟̖̰͛͐̂̌̃d̷͎͍̦̩̯̂̐̈́̒̇͜ͅï̷̙͎͙̱̲̾̓̓̂d̵̛̛̲̤̺̟͒̈́̽́̑̈́̈͜͠ ̴̬̥̱͓̊̒͛ȳ̶̢̢̛̛̘͓̱̱̭̩̣͈̈́̀͋͘͝ő̴͓̜̥̪͇͙͉̞̜ủ̴̢̖͙̞͈̳̈́̑̋̂̉̈ ̵̩̈́̋̂̾̓̎̌̕̚j̶̛̗̲͚͖̼̻̥͕̚ù̸̫̯̎s̷̛̹̠̠̰͇̬̟̤͖̃̋͋ť̵͇̹͕̞͌ ̵̢̹͖̯͆̀̽́̎̐̐̽̆̃c̴͍̼̤̓̉̃̒̕͠a̶͖̙̭͂͋̓l̸̢̧̨͙̯̹̯̱̳̏̈́̀l̷̡͖͉̟̼̳̹͙̏́̄̃͋ͅ ̶̧͓͍͑m̶̨̡̠̖͇̫͓̅̈́-̷̞̱̪͓̞̅̈́͊̇̎̐͝"

"Don't pull that radio demon bullshit with me right now Alastor! How hard was it to arm yourself? You aren't invincible to ANGELIC WEAPONS!"

You shouted at Alastor as you paced around your newly restored shared room, first aid kit open, bandages wrapped around, angry tears in your eyes.

If you were anyone else, you would be dead for rubbing salt into the still aching wound.

Alastor sighed and swung one leg over the other, crossing his arms intending to wait until your 'temper tantrum' was over.

I laugh through my tears

Normally he rather liked your tears, in a Alastor way, but they were annoying to him in this instance.

Cry baby, cry baby

You grabbed his face, locking your eyes with his,

"You could've died, You would've left me again."

"Dearest,"

"Al,"

"I won't leave you again."

"Promise?"

You asked dropping your hands from his face only for him to hold them in his hands.

"Promise."

'Cause I don't fucking care, Tears fall to the ground

With the hotel rebuilt, bigger, more grand then before, sinners began to trickle in.

Wanting to give redemption a shot,

Some wanted to see someone they knew that more then likely ended up going above, some had nothing left to lose, some just wanted to change, hating what they've become since they fell below.

I just let them drown, Cry baby, cry baby

You quite liked how things were developing, seeing Charlie's face light up when hotel residents improved, getting clean from addiction, proving to be better.

I just let them drown, Cry baby, cry baby

Alastor originally got involved in this place for his own entertainment or otherwise, bringing you with him, he didn't think that his darling crybaby of a wife would get attached.

But maybe he was getting attached too, not that he would ever admit it even to you.

You'll just let them drown, They call you cry baby, cry baby

You and Alastor sat comfortably on the couch in his radio tower, with you laying on his shoulder, his arm gingerly wrapped around you.

I just let them drown

"Al, look how cute they are!"

You said as you held your phone to Alastor, you had to remove a few qualities in order to keep the phone, you didn't mind since you mostly used it to communicate with the hotel residents or look at animal videos on the Internet anyways.

He simply hummed as he grimaced at the phone, you were trying to show him a group of hellborn kittens,

"We should get a cat,"

"We already have a cat."

"Husk doesn't count."

You said frowning as Alastor moved his hand to your cheek, pinching it until tears swelled up in your eyes.

Cry baby, cry baby

You were sobbing at the red creature you held in your arms,

"It's adorable!" You sobbed out holding the catlike creature that you found on the side of the road much to Alastor's displeasure you wanted a cat, and you got a cat thingy

"It looks like Alastor."

"Exactly!"

Alastor squinted at the cat thing you were crying with pride over, he would throw the damned thing out the window but unfortunately you were already attached, and he preferred you to cry over literally anything else other then the failed clone of his.

You'll just let them drown

Good evening folks! Thanks for tuning in! I scheduled this for Saturday so that should mean this is the last of the songfics! [For now anyways] [post-post edit, I LIED THERE WILL BE MORE SONG FICS THIS IS ONLY THE BEGINNING]

I wanted to go more into how Alastor would probably enjoy the readers crying but it got a little too weird.

Have a wonderful weekend folks!

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Run Away With Me Chapter 1

NEW SERIES BABY

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Named Female OC (Charlotte Ginger)

Summary: Big Mom's daughter, Charlotte Ginger is married off to Vinsmoke Sanji. What could possibly come of this?

WC: 2200

Run Away with Me Chapter 1

— —

The transponder snail rings. 

Big Mom waits a few tones until she answers.

The snail was presented to her on a silver platter from one of her many servants. She lounges in a giant bed and presses the phone up to her ear. 

“Yes?” She answers. 

“Madam Charlotte. It is a pleasure to speak to you directly. Thank you for taking my call.” A deep voice booms from the other end of the snail. 

“The pleasure is all mine, Judge. Did you make a decision from the papers I sent you?” Big mom asks, nibbling at a carrot cake slice she had left on her side table. 

There was a pregnant pause. 

“I’ve made a decision… but not from the options given to me.” Judge Vinsmoke says from the other end of the line. 

“You know how I feel about a change in terms, Vinsmoke… tread carefully.” 

“Your daughters are nothing less than spectacular, Madam Charlotte, but what I think would best serve our alliance is one of them I didn’t see in the file.” Judge replies. 

“Oh? And who would that be?” Big Mom inquires after wiping the cream cheese frosting from her lips. 

“The red haired one. The hunter. From the wanted posters. That’s the one I want for my son.”

Another silence. 

“So you want my Ginger, eh?” Big Mom indulges him. “Why?”

“She’s strong. Intelligent. Crafty. Good breeding stock for my boy. This legacy lives long after we’re gone, Linlin, am I correct? I have no interest in simply making an alliance. I want to build an empire.” Judge says grimly, with a smirk hidden not-so-plainly in his voice. 

“Hmm… you make an interesting point, Vinsmoke. I’ll consider it.” 

— —

*peck*

*peck*

*caw?*

Your eyelids flutter open. Your familiar raven, Nori, was gently prodding his beak at your nose, causing you to wake up and scrunch your face together. 

“What? Gods forbid a girl get a break around here.” You sigh and throw the blanket off your body. Nori flaps his wings and settles on your night table before cocking his head and giving you an urgent sounding coo. 

You throw your long, bright red hair into a ponytail quickly as you rise to your feet. You slip on your boots, still slightly dank from the long journey at sea. You were sent on a hunting expedition, as searching and destroying was always your area of expertise. Your mother, an emperor of the seas, had you go off to hunt down a pack of deserters and bring back some supplies along with the bodies of her betrayers. 

Always the good daughter, you obliged your mother’s every request. It was no easy feat, capturing and executing the deserters, but with your skills and prowess you were able to achieve your goal. You carried the men’s heads deep within the belly of your ship, carefully preserved to present to your Mama. Years ago you lost count of the heads of dead men you’ve offered to your mother for her shrewd approval. Marines, pirates, low brow bootleggers, high born nobles, no target was safe from your murderous grasp. 

You loved your position. A general of Big Mom’s army and Minister of Spice, you were her most powerful daughter and an essential member of her armada at the tender age of 24. As little love and care as your mother showed you growing up, you appeased her now to stay in her good graces. You knew if Mama got a single *whiff* of indignation, your status would be lost to one of the multitude of your other siblings…

Perhaps someone larger… one of Mama’s children with giants perhaps. Or one of her fishmen children, adept in the arts of karate and unmatched in the seas. Your father was a wood elf from a secluded island in the South Blue… or so your mother told you. Perished before he could meet you. She explained this only once when you asked why your ears were different… pointed so much that you were bullied in school. 

“Tell me who’s bothering you, cupcake. I’ll just have a nice talk with their parents..” Your mother would always say when you asked her why the other children made fun of your ears as a kid. When you were young you hid your ears with your long hair, but once you proved yourself as Big Mom’s strongest tracker and hunter, you no longer feared judgment and mostly wore your hair in a slicked, long ponytail. 

*squaaak!* Nori cawed louder, as if trying to urge you to hurry up getting ready. 

“Alright alright, I’m moving.” You hush the bird and throw the pink cloak emblazoned with your mother’s jolly roger over your shoulders. You slide your daggers into the holsters on your thighs and swing your bow and quiver across your back before making your way to the door of your captain’s quarters. 

You push the wooden door open and trudge out into the sunlight. You bring your palm to your brow in an attempt to shield your eyes from the sun’s brightness. Once your eyes adjusted to the light, you can see Whole Cake Island coming up fast on the horizon. You let out a deep sigh. 

Another mission over. Stuck at home until the next assignment… But what was home, really? You loved your ship, your crew, your job… being at the chateau depressed you. Stewards and maids waiting on you hand and foot… constant badgering from your underlings and younger siblings… you wished you could always be at sea. 

The sea awakened you. The battles filled you with vigor. The camaraderie of a crew on the ocean brought you to life… But you were cursed to always come home to Mama. 

“Men! Prepare for arrival!” You shout to your crew before beginning to take down the main sail yourself. 

— —

You stepped off the gangplank and your soggy boots met the worn wood of the dock at Whole Cake Island. 

“Alright men, bring my cargo up the chateau. Mama will be quite pleased to see her spoils from this trip.” You say as you wipe the sweat from your brow. You turn around and see an emissary with several guards approaching you on the dock. 

“I can’t say I’m used to a welcoming party. A special occasion?” You quip at the emissary as you straighten out your leathers. 

“Big Mom has requested your audience as soon as possible, Miss Ginger. You are to come with us.” The grey bearded emissary said with a blank expression. Your hunter’s intuitions can’t help but notice the way the guards grip on their spears tighten as he finished his sentence. You scan their faces. You can only see fear. 

“And if I don’t go with you?” You cock your head curiously.

“I am afraid that’s not an option.” The emissary purses his lips. “Miss Ginger.” 

You were exhausted and not prepared for a fight, your men were loyal to you, but wouldn’t risk their lives to Big Mom for anything. 

“Aye. I’ll come.” You resign. 

*caw! CAW!* Nori frantically called from your shoulder. 

The emissary clears his throat. 

“Your mother requests you alone.” He says as he eyes your bird. 

“I’ll be fine, Nori. I promise. Wait here.” You coo to your familiar. 

He grows disapprovingly before flying off. 

— — 

You follow the emissary and the guards up the the chateau through the winding, frosting lined corridors of the castle as your mind races. What could mother possible want with you so urgently? You had done everything she asked for… the heads of the deserters on a silver platter… a ship filled to the brim with sweets and supplies… you couldn’t think of anything you’e done recently she could even consider a transgression… unless it was about Lazora….

You eventually reach Big Mom’s chambers and the emissary holds the door open for you. You take a deep breath before crossing the threshold. 

Your mother was seated on her lavish, massively large loveseat indulging in several bowls of what you could only perceive as banana pudding. Her throat bobbed heinously as she shoveled more of the dessert down her enormous gullet. You stepped towards her softly as not to disturb her gorging. 

“Mama…” You say quietly. 

“Ginger!” Your mother exclaims as she righted herself and placed the empty dish on the coffee table. “I’m so glad you’re back, my sweet child. Something incredible has come up, and I just can’t wait to tell you about it!” 

“Yes, Mama?” You ask. 

“Come, come, my love. Sit down! I can even have the guards bring some of that red wine you like.” Your mother gestures towards the armchair across from her. 

“I’m quite alright, Mama, thank you.” You say as you sit down and place your hands in your lap. 

“Well, Ginge, I’ll get right to it. We’ve come into the opportunity for the strongest alliance the world has seen in decades.. and you’re the one in the middle of it! How exciting!” Your mom claps her massive hands together below her double chin. You were reminded at this point how easily it would be for her to crush you in those hands…

“I… I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mama…” You say, confused. 

“Germa 66… the most powerful technological agency in the entire world has offered to marry one of their sons off to the Charlotte family! It would prove greatly beneficial for both us and them. Isn’t that fantastic, my sweet cupcake? Your wedding will be in nearly a weeks time! I am so happy for you! And all of us!” Your mom grinned. 

“But… mother… You told me if I could rise to the ranks of general… or minister… I would be exempt from political marriage! I’ve managed to do both and you’ve still sold me off? I don’t understand…” You shake your head in a panicked manner as her words start to sink in. 

“Things change, darling. We all took an oath to protect and serve this family… and I’ve determined this is the best way you can do your duty.” Your mother reaches for another bowl of pudding from the table and you instinctively flinch, thinking she was lunging for you. 

“Mother I must protest.. I have no desire to marry, which is why I pursued the role that I did. I am your most elite hunter and assassin… the fleet will be left with a massive gap without me! I have done everything you’ve asked since the day I was born I-“ You stutter out through gritted teeth. 

“ENOUGH!”

You mouth is snapped closed by an unseen force. Your mother’s power was far, far greater than your own. 

“You will marry the Vinsmoke boy with no issue. You have been chosen for this task and should feel grateful.” Your mother scolds you. 

“M-m-my sh-shi-ship-!” You choke out through the invisible grasp that Big Mom has around your throat. 

“Silly girl. Cracker will take over your fleet. He may not be as productive, but he’s got you cornered in the strength department. I’m sure his results will be just as fine.” Your mother shoots you a cheeky glare. 

You sputter for breath as you struggle to breathe. 

“Ma.. Ma..” You croak out. 

The grasp on your throat releases and you clutch your neck, gasping deeply to regain oxygen. 

“The wedding is Sunday.” Your mother says casually as she gulps down a second bowl of dessert. “It’ll take that long to get you presentable.” She gestures to the guards. “Get her to the chambermaids. She needs a decent gown and to wash that vile sea-stench from her hair. The Germa Prince arrives tomorrow and she needs to be look like a lady for once.” She commands as you grasp at your own throat in relief. 

You feel strong arms encircle each of your shoulders 

Your body was too weakened to fight back, you simply had no choice but to allow the guards to shuffle you to your chambers. 

— —

You fall face first onto your plush comforter, your mind still swimming with thoughts of what your mother just told you… you can’t take it laying down.. there’s no way you’ll be married off… it was guaranteed to you…

“Wait! Stop!” You push yourself off the bed and rush towards the door, pulling desperately on the handles, only to find it locked already by your mothers devouts. “No!” You push your legs on the opposite door as you pull the handle with all your might. You pull one of your daggers from your thigh-holster and try to jam Ito between the double doors to unjam the lock mechanism. 

“Ah!” You screamed.

It was like a lightening bolt hit your body. You were shocked and blown backwards. Your mother must have put some enchantment on the door… you were trapped… 

— —

A/N HEY YALL NEW SERIES TIME! I PROMISE WE’LL GET SANJI IN THE NEXT CHAPTER! We’re just doing a lil world building, ya digg?  Also please send me inboxes or comments for ideas for this series or critiques! Love yall.

[akwolfgrl]

Recipe for recovery part 4

As Zoro carried Sanji onto the deck, to the chair waiting for him, he couldn't help but notice how light he felt in his arms. The sound of his scream still haunts him. Zoro didn't know what he would do without the blonde in his arms. Someone had already piled the chair in pillows. Everyone was working together to get Sanji to take it easy and rest. Robin and Nami were already sitting on either side of his chair, Zoro thought it was a bad idea that Sanji would be worried about serving them instead of resting.

“What's that smell?” Sanji asked, sniffing the air.

“Frankys got the grill going,” Zoro told him as he placed him on his throne of pillows. Zoro sure as shit didn't know how to grill. “Luffy and I killed a few animals,” Before Sanji fell, they had to go back to grab them and Namis tools.

“I'll need to do inventory later,” Zoro sat down by the foot of the chair, extra precaution from Sanji attempting to stand.

He and Sanji were both far too alike in that regard. This wasn't something he could train for. When he or a crew member had been hurt in the past it was something Zoro could train, work harder to prevent it from happening again. However there was no out training for a freak accident, an act of nature and bad timing.

“Already done Sanji,” Robin replied with a smile. “I got you something to read, it's a mystery novel. Hannah Swensen runs a bakery, specializing in cookies, called The Cookie Jar. When a delivery man is found, shot dead, in her loading bay, Hannah decides to take matters into her own hands and find the killer herself. It's quite a good series thus far, I'm on book ten carrot cake murder. There are recipes inside, between them and your notes on the crew we can manage until you feel well enough to order us about. I'll hold it for you, Choppers already told us everything,”

“Thank so much Robin, but you don't have to go that far for me. It's my job to take care of and serve you,” Sanji replied.

“Nonsense, now sit back and relax. I have your reading speed timed perfectly,” Zoro had no idea how she did it but it was Robin, if anyone had that figured out it would be her.

“All right! Luffy, are you ready for some Super!! good BBQ?” Franky asked a drooling Luffy.

“Yesh!” Luffy cried, throwing his hands in the air.

Zoro sat back and watched as Franky loaded Luffy's plate with chicken, burgers, ribs, kabobs and hot dogs. Luffy eagerly tucked in.

“Mm! Ish almosh ah goo ah,” Luffy swallowed his mouthful. “Sanjis!”

“Thanks bro, that's high praise! BBQ is my specialty!” Franky struck another pose, his arms above his head. “It's the only thing in can cook to be honest,”

Zoro got up when the second round was ready, Nami right behind him. Robin stayed behind to keep Sanji company. She could easily use her devil fruit to get her own food.

“You'll keep an eye on him tonight right?” Nami asked him when they were out of earshot.

“Yes, I should have been there when he fell,” Zoro knew it wasn't rational but he could still hear Sanji's scream over the sound of crumbling earth. The sight of his bloody mangled body would haunt his nightmares. It was one thing to get hurt during a fight, it was expected even.

“Are you finally going to confess?” Nami asked, loading up her plate and both his plates.

“When he's not on painkillers,” He had confessed to Nami after she caught him staring at the blonde's ass one too many times. She of course had plied him with drinks first, that women sure knew how to make one hell of a drink.

“Good, I'm sick of the pinning and if this accident has taught us anything is there's no time to waste…although Yah don't confess while he's high, I'm surprised he's not loopy,”

“Zoro, Sanji and Luffy's pain tolerance is high, that might be the reason why the medicine isn't kicking in as fast as I would like, Zoro and Luffy burn threw it too fast. Luckily Luffy mostly just needs meat to recover,” Chopper chimed in. “Sanji might be nauseous from the painkillers, so don't put to much on his plate,”

“All right Chopper, whatever he doesn't eat we will just feed to Luffy,” Nami agreed.

“Luffy will eat anything,”

“No alcohol either,” Chopper added.

Zoro whinesed, he was guilty of the last thing, he had drunk plenty of booze when he shouldn't have. They made their way back to chairs, Robin already had a plate on her lap.

“Here curls,” Zoro sat on Namis chair, she sat on the end without a fight. She normally lounged on it like some queen, but today everyone was focused on their cook. “Open up,” Zoro took a small fork full remembering how Sanji didn't just shovel food in his mouth, he took small bites savoring his food.

[lakesbian]

THAT WAS GREAT I LOVE YOU HELEN. personally i think there could have been way more helen in it because it felt brief but im hoping there will be more helen later also. cannot believe helen/mary is real like i dreamed. also awwww 😭 helen being confused about how she can like lillian even though she doesn't want to kill lillian and it being clarified through lillian bringing her a cake that's even More satisfying than murder...literally cake is one of her biological imperatives!!! helen is such a sweetieheart i love her . the casual body horror is so good her thought processes are so good. it's interesting how her emotions seem to be even further developed from when we last saw her...she's growing into herself. also the obvious set-up of the lambs being given the Perfect reason to terribly terribly desire to bring sy and jamie back is like alright i see how we're doing this lmao. that'll work.

oh yeah and oh my god the "i like squished things" from helen after lillian says her carrot cake got squished. Literally my favorite helen line ever. It's just so perfectly uncanny and utterly fantastic in context. i think we should get one helen interlude every arc because of how perfect she is. okay now time to go find out what arc 11 is all about....nervousexcited i hope it doesn't fuck anything up because im Invested right now

[dance-like-an-idiot]

imagine, if only for a moment. joel and jimmy. they meet up and they click. like glue, like lego bricks with their spotty colors, and like old friends that have seen each other before again and again. their timers tick and they ignore the flames that consume them as the realize they died together.

then they live together.

imagine once again grian joins these ragtag self proclaimed "bad boys" and fits just as well. though not as well as jimmy and joel first did, their bond stronger than ever, jimmy feels a pull towards grian in some unexplainable way that he has many times tried to put into words.

he somehow felt it would be easier explained if they Listened.

now imagine a day has passed and grian fits in so much better than they thought, the stitching they needed like a patch on leather jackets and aviators to boot. they laugh and they build what they all agree on is the most ugly thing created but it helps joels plague. one which they vow to help him with. they build the bread bridge on bad boys manor.

and somehow, they're proud of the blood sweat and wheat.

imagine these three bound to each others side through every murder and kill they get. they find themselves with no allies and a metallic taste in their mouth as they grit their teeth and get by. they may not have allies but they have each other.

death holds a string of desires over their heads as they reach and reach.

imagine the first death comes in their bridge. their mourning period starts as they give in and realize that they can't save their bridge and in some twisted turn of events they all feel genuinely sad over it. they spent an ungodly amount of time on it, and while it may not be much more than an eyesore by the end of it it was theres.

but the memories last longer than what was lost.

keep on and imagine their plan of recovery, it comes from the sky with a carrot cake, a loaf of bread, and a submarine sandwich. the sky is safer and they crave safer. although not pretty its theirs and they capitalize. the grip of death urges them forward and they stretch the base as far as their eyes can manage until they run out of blocks

it reminds them of what they had lost.

and imagine the three keep together. they love each other and they care for each other. the time ticks down and again. it feels like they can never possibly get out of their pit of red. hot and angering but the time keeps ticking. their minds keep ticking.

they see the fear on each other, like moldy bread.

and imagine jimmy falls one too close to out and they huddle around him like guards, they can't lose each other so they go hunting. hunts lead to death. and death leads to reminders. reminders of what was lost, what they could have had, and reminders of how far they had come.

jimmy had died on skynet 2. their relapse in memory. the one memory they couldn't get back

imagine now, joel gets scared. too frightened to think of anything other than jimmy and grian. he can barely feel any remains of morals as he bounds around looking for any easy kill to save grian. he fears for his death. and he fears for grian. he knows its his time. he doesn't want it to be. but he already took from grian. and he doesn't want another thing to be taken from him.

he dies on the remains of bread bridge with grian just out of his sight. forever in his mind.

the world goes still as the thunder strikes and takes salvation away. the water trickles and falls and he sees joels blood seep into the water. grian sees his own tears join with the heart of jimmy still in the blocks around him. he sees his friends and the only people he would give the world to die. too soon. far too soon. he sobs and he cries and he cant think. he can only mourn because thats what they did together. and thats what he'll do alone.

[gotlostinfiction]

The Weeping Girl

When a miserable old man turns up at Lockwood & Co.’s door with the promise of £50,000 for an easy case, it's hard to refuse. But is everything all as it seems, or will this case be a lot more than they bargained for? 

TW: Mentions of abuse and murder, mild swearing.

SPOILERS: Mentions a case from The Hollow Boy.

(this is my first attempt at writing my own fanfic so any advice or tips would be very useful <3)

─── ‧⁺˖✮˖⁺‧ ───

In front of me sat one of the most wrinkled old men I've ever seen in my life, and Lockwood & Co. have done a lot of cases for old people. He was a Mr Andrew Hallcock and he had come to us with reports of a crying girl heard by his younger servants, himself being way too old to sense ghosts. We, on the other hand, would be able to sense them easily. 

Just to catch you up, my name is Lucy Carlyle and I have been a part of a ramshackle agency called Lockwood & Co. as a Junior Field Operative for just under two years. Our agency founder and leader, Anthony Lockwood, was sitting on my right with a cup of tea balanced precariously on his knee. On the chair to my left was George Karim, the deputy and researcher of the trio. He held a plate of carrot cake and was munching noisily, much to our client's disgust. Oh, also, there’s one more. Not sure if he's a member or not but, there's the skull. A few months ago I figured out that I can talk to ghosts, and that we have a real Type Three in our house. No one likes him if I'm honest, due to his crude remarks, but I thought he should be mentioned (He’d get offended if I didn’t.)

Now that we're caught up, we can continue.

“Well then, Mr Lockwood,” Mr Hallcock began. “As I made you aware on the phone, some of my younger servants have reported to me that they can hear crying just before they are about to sleep. I've never had an issue like his before, and I can promise you that my house is not haunted!” He said with a tone of annoyance. Apparently, he wasn't fond of ghosts - or our furniture by the way he perched like a bird ready to take flight. 

Lockwood looked uncertain. “Have the servants described in more detail what they've heard?”

“Or has anyone seen anything?” I added helpfully.

Mr Hallcock locked his small beady eyes on mine. “I don’t know why you are butting in, young lady, I thought you were a mere serving girl.” 

I went to stand, but Lockwood's hand snaked out and rested on my thigh, pinning me down. “May you answer our questions, please? All three of us are agents and need to know what they may have seen or heard.” He said calmly.

“Very well,” Mr Hallcock began. “They have only reported hearing crying. I don't think any of them are talented enough to see apparitions. Not that there should be one! Anyway,” He continued. “I'm willing to offer up to £50,000 if this issue is resolved quickly and discreetly. The public cannot find out that my home may be haunted, I have a reputation to maintain!”

George reached out for another slice of cake but paused when he heard the figure. I felt Lockwood move his hand.

“Of course, Mr Hallcock. We can promise all that you ask.”

“Good.” He replied. “I'll be expecting you at 8 pm sharp tonight. I will ensure that the house is cleared of all staff, and I will occupy myself away from home. Good day, gentleman.” With a whiff of cigar smoke, he was out the door.

“What a dick, he didn't even say goodbye to me!” I said. I was the first to break the silence that had formed with his absence.

“He could talk for England, that's for sure,” George added.

“Yes, well, he wasn't a very pleasant person, certainly not to you Luce. But, we can't reject that kind of money. Especially not for an easy case like this.” Lockwood said, a large smile forming across his face.

“Here we go…” George said with a sigh.

“Here's the plan, George you go to the archives, find absolutely everything you can about the house and Mr Hallcock, I'll go to Satchels and restock, and Lucy you pack the kit bags,” Lockwood ordered; with a smile, he walked purposefully out the door. 

─── ‧⁺˖✮˖⁺‧ ───

Two hours later, we were ready. Lockwood, George and I all bundled into the taxi waiting outside Portland Row. It was a small one, and George jumped straight into the passenger seat, dumping our kit bags in the back. This left me practically sitting on Lockwood's lap, squished close next to our kit and the skull. Great.

“Oh, it’s snug back here isn’t it, Lucy?” The skull piped up from the jar on my lap, and I could see a large smirk forming across the glass. “Lockwood looks like a tomato.”

“No idea what you're on about,” I replied sharply. 

“Has he given us anything useful, Luce?” Lockwood asked me, having to crane his neck down due to the angle. 

“Erm, said it’s not very spacious back here,” I replied, purposefully avoiding eye contact with him. 

“Well, quite,” Lockwood said and coughed awkwardly, his cheeks tinged with red. “So then George, fill us in.” He continued, changing the subject. 

“Well, Mr Hallcock is a bit of a dick, just like you said Luce. He lied to us about a violent death that occurred in the house to protect his ego and reputation. He-” George cut himself off. “Ooh, you two do look cosy back there!”

“Get to the point, George,” I said. This was mortifying; I could hear the skull's faint laughter in my head.

“Okay, well as I was saying, Mr Hallcock comes from a family of men who think they can do what they want. Specifically to women. At the archives, I found so many complaints to the police from female members of Mr Hallcock's staff about sexual comments and the sort. I mean, remember how he spoke to you, Lucy?”

“Yeah, he treated me like a piece of shit, the sexist bastard.”

“Exactly. Turns out, Mr Hallcock was involved in a murder trial of one of his servants, a 20-year-old girl called Rebecca Hughes. She died on his property in a bedroom upstairs, stabbed to death. One of her fellow servants was charged and hanged for it, and Mr Hallcock was brought forward to give evidence.” George continued. 

“You think that's the primary source of the haunting then?” I said, ignoring the teasing remarks coming from the skull.

“Has to be,” George replied. “No other deaths have been reported in the house or the area.”

Lockwood coughed again, his cheeks going redder still. “Well I'm glad I bought some extra protection then, you know how murder victims get. I brought another industrial flare.” Clocking George's concerned look he quickly added, “We’ll use it properly this time, not like Combe Carey.”

“I don't think Mr Hallcock would want us to damage his house either,” I said as we pulled into the long gravel driveway. Just in the distance, I could see the house looming over us. Well, I say house, it was more like a mansion. On its private lot, surrounded by woodland, stood Hallcock Manor. It had a regal-style entrance, with large stone columns and wide steps leading to a grand white door with gold accents carved into the sides. The home spread wide at the sides with small walkways at each end and then cascaded backwards, seemingly never-ending. Basically, it was bloody posh.

The taxi driver dumped us halfway down the drive, complaining that he couldn't be bothered to have to reverse all the way back. Safe to say that Lockwood didn't tip him. We all piled out and headed towards the house. Walking towards it was incredible, but also mortifying. I was in awe at the beauty of the place, but then apprehensive of the danger that could unfold.

As if reading my thoughts, Lockwood spoke. “This should be an easy case guys, no need to worry. Mr Hallcock said that there was no apparition seen and that it was just crying. We will be fine.”

“What about the fact that she's a murder victim? They’re always Type Two’s.” I asked.

“Well, at least we've got this.” Lockwood pulled out the flare and showed it to me and George. After our last use of it, I wasn't reassured.

“I think Lucy should keep a hold of it,” George spoke up. “You were reckless with it last time, you know, lobbing it at the well like that. Lucy will be more careful.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Lockwood replied, though I could tell he wasn't convinced. He passed it over to me, his long fingers brushing against the palm of my hand. I smiled weakly at him, and he grinned back. It was his reassuring smile, the one he used for worried clients. 

“Ooh, he almost held your hand!” The skull remarked. “The closest you’ll ever get.” I decided not to recite this one back to the boys. 

Lockwood then flourished the keys from one of his coat pockets and opened the door, ensuring that he didn't hesitate on the threshold. Being well-trained, we followed closely behind. The house was just as beautiful inside as out. Regent-style furniture filled the home in a classy sort of way. The walls were lined with floral patterned wallpaper and gold-framed oil paintings hung in neat rows. George pulled out his floor plan and assessed our surroundings.

“This is called the ‘Grand Entrance.’” He said, eyeing the decor. “To be fair, they weren't wrong.”

I closed my eyes and listened. I tuned out the low rumble of Lockwood's voice and the distant beeping of George's thermometer. But the house itself was silent, I couldn’t sense anything. 

“You got anything?” I asked the skull, which was fixed to my back. 

“Nope, absolutely nothing. I even think I just saw a tumbleweed, it's that boring.” 

“Through here should be the main kitchen where we can have some tea, but there are three if you want a choice,” George said, breaking through the skull’s rambling. We carried on walking, assessing the temperature as we went.

Just like the rest of the house, the kitchen was posh too. Marble countertops lined with gold engravings were spread out far against most of the walls. A matching table was in the corner, where George had plugged in a portable kettle. A few minutes later, we had made ourselves comfortable (as comfortable as we could on rock-solid marble chairs) with our tea and biscuits.

“I can't sense anything at the moment,” I said, hugging my tea close for warmth. It was cold, I had noticed, but not supernatural I didn't think

“Me neither,” Lockwood added, “I can't see any death glows. How’s the temperature, George?”

“A bit chilly, but not supernatural. This is an old house, and it’s winter.” He replied checking his watch. “I'm surprised, to be honest, it's 9:30 and there's been nothing so far.”

“We haven't checked upstairs yet though, that's where you said the girl died,” I answered.

“True, although we don’t know where she actually died. All I could find in the archives was that it was an upstairs bedroom. Well, in case you haven't noticed this house is huge, so it could be any of them.” George said in a huff. 

“I think we should get on then,” Lockwood said, getting up to leave. “Come on.”

“Go on, follow your boyfriend.” The skull cooed in my ear.

─── ‧⁺˖✮˖⁺‧ ───

An hour or so later, we had explored the whole house. And believe me, it took a while. It was about 11 pm now and since the crying was reported “just before the servants went to sleep” it could be any time from now till 12. We had set up a large iron circle in the coldest bedroom on the second-story landing - the servant's quarters. Mr Hallcock had informed us that he slept on the top floor, leaving his servants free reign of the second. Like the rest of the house, it was spacious and included its own kitchen and living area. Despite being a bastard, he at least looked like he treated his employees well.

Sat on the floor with my legs crossed, I could feel the miasma building. I reached into my kit bag for some mints and saw George do the same. I closed my eyes and tried to listen again. There it was! A faint weeping, only a whisper, and I had to concentrate to pick it up. 

“You getting anything Luce?” Lockwood asked me. 

“Yep,” I answered, needing to stay focused. He took the hint and let me listen. 

The crying was still there, getting ever so slightly louder and more hysterical, but it had been taken over by repetitive thumping and banging. It was hard to decipher if it was someone's footsteps or things being moved around. Or maybe even someone's fists. I told this to the boys.

“You think it’s her?” Lockwood said

“Has to be, Lockwood. No one else died here.” George replied, chewing ferociously on a mint.

I stood up and left the circle, the miasma was strong as well as the temperature, but it was manageable. There was a grand fireplace, on a wall in the far corner, again embossed with gold accents on both sides. On impulse, I reached out and let my hands rest on the mantle. A wave of memory from the past hit me. I heard voices, a deep loud one that I recognised as Mr Hallcock. He was shouting at someone, and I could hear the weeping in the background. Was he speaking to Rebecca? Suddenly, there was a loud bang followed by a gut-wrenching scream, then silence.

I prised open my eyes and looked around. Nothing had changed, Lockwood and George still sat in the circle and I was still by the fireplace. The room felt different.

“Luce?” Lockwood walked over and gently touched my arm, “Are you okay? You've gone very pale, and you just stood there for 15 minutes.”

I looked up at him, then around the room. “Really?” I said, “I was gone for that long?” 

“Yeah, didn't want to disturb you though, in case you had something,” George added, now munching on a sandwich. 

Lockwood and I walked back to the circle and sat down. I filled them in on what I'd heard. 

“You sure it was him?” Lockwood asked.

“Positive,” I replied, taking a bite of chocolate. “I would recognise that voice anywhere, and the stuff he was saying was a dead giveaway.”

“Like what?” George asked.

“He kept saying that something was her fault. Said that he would give her one more chance.” 

“No wonder she's crying,” George added with a laugh.

“Not funny, George,” Lockwood said, glancing at me.

“Just trying to lighten the mood. Can you not feel the miasma now? It's everywhere.”

And he was right, while we were too busy talking, things had escalated. Ghost fog lined the floor; it lapped and our ankles and the air was bitterly cold making our breaths show in small puffs. Our thermometers showed minus temperatures. We all stood up abruptly, producing our rapiers and stood back to back.

“Why didn't you mention anything?” I asked the skull impatiently.

“Whoops.” Was all I got in return. With that, I turned away from him.

“See anything, Lockwood?” I asked, hoping that now it was later he could see some death glows. 

“Nope, still nothing. Although I'm sure we've got the right room, it's bloody freezing.” He replied; I could see him shivering, despite his coat. 

“Guys, can you see that?” George spoke up, his voice shaking. 

I looked in his direction, and there was a small ball of light, slowly getting bigger, forming into a small woman. Rebecca Hughes. She looked young, George said she’d been 20, with long blonde hair reaching her sides and dark brown eyes. She wore a uniform of a pinafore dress and kitten heels, but there was something wrong. Her dress was ripped, and holes covered the surface of the sleeves and front. Stab wounds, I guessed. 

“Getting interesting now! Got any popcorn?” The skull asked.

“That’s what the other servant did to her,” George said, “It said in the report that she was stabbed repetitively.” 

“Well, she's not being aggressive, which is unusual for a murder victim,” Lockwood noted. 

I looked at Lockwood for permission and after a nod, I stepped just outside the chains. She wasn't strong yet, I should be able to communicate. 

“Rebecca, what happened to you?” I asked calmly. She seemed like a Type Two, unable to have a conversation but could listen. She looked at me through her long lashes and remained still. 

“Monster…” She whispered.

“Deserves to be hanged…”

“Who’s a monster, Rebecca? Who should be hanged?” I asked her. I could just make out her words over the crying. The sound had rocketed since I'd communicated with her. 

“Monster…”

“Lucy, get in the chains please,” Lockwood asked calmly, though I could sense the urgency in his voice. The skull laughed in the background.

“Who hurt you, Rebecca?” I repeated.

“Lucy!” This was Lockwood again. He was shouting now, every aspect of calm revoked. 

“Hall-” The ghost began before the connection was lost. 

I felt a tug at the back of my jacket, it was Lockwood pulling me into the circle. I tripped over the ghost jar and fell flat on my backside, just as he hurled a salt bomb at Rebecca - exactly where I had just stood. If you thought the skull was laughing before, he was cackling now. 

“What the hell was that Lockwood!” I turned on him, “I had almost got somewhere!”

“She was about to charge at you, you would have been ghost-touched if I hadn't helped!” Lockwood roared back. 

“Oh look, the happy couple are arguing.” The skull added, unhelpfully 

“Stop it!” George shouted, making me and Lockwood go silent. “Your emotions are making her more agitated. Lucy, what did she tell you?”

Annoyed, I responded, “She said that someone was a monster and they should be hanged. I asked her who and she went to say ‘Hallcock’, I’m sure of it.” 

“Any idea about her source?” George asked.

“No idea, maybe the knife used on her?”

Lockwood had gone silent, that could only mean one thing. A plan.

“Right, we need to find her source. I'll distract her and fight her off while you two look for her source, okay?” He said eventually. He gave me a look that said ‘No arguing’ so I reluctantly agreed. 

Practically leaping out of the circle, Lockwood charged forward, his rapier angled at the ghost. Me and George followed behind him, speeding around the room looking for her source. I scrambled through draws and under beds, behind picture frames and on shelves, and still nothing. George was having no better luck either. 

Lockwood had led the ghost away from us, into the hallway. He was using his rapier in a forward motion to pin the ghost in a corner, it appeared to be working. The house went quiet for a while, only Lockwood's sharp breaths could be heard as he battled against the ghost.

“Lucy!” A voice broke through the silence.

My heart stopped. That was Lockwood. Screaming. 

“Lucy! George!”

I was closest to the door. I dropped the box I was searching through and ran into the hallway. Lockwood was backed into the corner, the ghost having turned on him. His hands were sweaty and he was losing grip on his rapier. I heard it clang on the floor. I saw his usually dark eyes start to lighten, turning a milky white as the ghost's hand reached for him. I knew the signs of ghost lock all too well. I raced into action and scrambled through my work belt for a flare.

“Oh, he's finally going to be reunited with his family! Let him go, Lucy.” The skull suggested. I blanked him. 

Still rummaging through my belt, I found what I was looking for. The industrial flare. Without thinking, I pulled the cap and threw it.

Now, you may not know this but my aim is awful. Out of the three of us, only Lockwood can throw. We learnt this the hard way at the Lavender Lodge, when I doshed a bottle off his head and George couldn't throw a rapier for the life of him. So, the flare did hit the ghost, but mainly Lockwood, much to the skull's amusement. 

George had come to stand next to me. We both looked in horror as Lockwood was shot sideways into a bedroom. The wooden floorboards had jolted up at different angles, the banister had broken in two and the wall closest had been destroyed. In the light of the flare, I saw a patch of white on the ground but this wasn't my priority. I raced forward, my shoe flying off as I jumped over the hole in the ground, and headed for the room Lockwood had disappeared into. 

He staggered out into the hallway and stood before the hole, his hair flopped elegantly over his brow with his coat ripped at the shoulder, but somehow it still flowed behind him in the light breeze. His face shone with sweat and was littered with scratches, his hand lay cooly on his rapier hilt. Even after getting blown across the hallway, he looked as charming as ever. 

In case you were wondering about me, I was less fortunate. My hair stuck up, my fringe was completely blown back away from my face, my jacket was torn and splattered with ectoplasm, and my left boot was somewhere down the stairs. Basically, I could have looked better.

Still, Lockwood beamed at me with his megawatt smile, as if I had never looked better to him. 

“Well, that was fun,” Lockwood stated. He was out of breath, and wobbling slightly. 

I hurried over to him and grabbed his arm to support him. I went to call George for help but he was on his knees, clawing frantically under a floorboard.

“George?” I asked, curiosity lacing my voice.

“There's something down here, the blast showed it. But it's gone, I can't find it!”

“Don’t help him, Lucy, this is so funny.” The skull said, I could see its hollow eyes darting about in the plasm. I ignored him once again, it was quite a skill. 

“George,” I said anxiously, “Can you be a bit quicker? She’s back, and she’s behind you.”

George spun around and saw her in the distance. She was weaker, the blast had dimmed her spirit, but she was still powerful. She went to charge at him, but she wasn't quick enough. I let go of Lockwood and raced for her. I extended my rapier and angled it towards her in thrashing blows, just like Lockwood had taught me. 

“George, hurry up!” I screamed at him. He was still on the floor behind me, rummaging through spiderwebs and dust. 

“This has to be the source!’ He said, ‘It has to be here somewhere!”

Lockwood had been watching me and hadn’t taken his eyes away. It was almost like a second ghost lock, similar to a trance. Suddenly, he snapped out of it and jumped over the hole to where George still was. 

Together, with me battling the ghost and the two boys looking for the source, it worked quite well. She was less strong now that dawn was approaching, and it was an easy task to keep her away. In the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of white being pulled from the ground. George shoved it under a net, and Rebecca abruptly disappeared in front of me. I put my rapier back in its hilt and turned around. George was clutching whatever he had found tightly, her source. We had done it. 

─── ‧⁺˖✮˖⁺‧ ───

When we arrived back at Portland Row, the house was quiet. George was in the basement, analysing the source we’d found (safely), and Lockwood had collapsed into a kitchen chair. I snatched the first aid kit and plonked myself down next to him. He looked tired, which wasn’t anything new, with dark circles encased around his hollow eyes. He looked at me through his long lashes and smiled. A genuine one, not the false one he gave customers or the polite one he gave adults. This was a smile meant for me, and I savoured every last bit of it.

“I’m sorry for hitting you,” I said softly, as I opened the first aid kit. He hadn't looked away.

“I’ll forgive you, I always do.” He said with a short laugh, but then grabbed his sides from pain. 

I looked at him in pity, it hurt me to see him like this. 

“Sit still.” I ordered, “This is probably going to hurt.”

“Not as much as getting blown across a hallway.” He joked, his laughter fading to a grimace as I dapped a large cut with antiseptic, then placed a plaster over it. 

I held the side of his face, my hand faintly brushing against his cheekbones as I repeated the process for the rest of his cuts. We remained in a comforting silence, as I moved effectively but as gently as I could. I already felt bad enough for almost blowing him up, I didn't want to make it worse. After I finished, I slowly closed the box and looked at him. 

“Thank you, Lucy.” He spoke. His face was awash with plasters and it was hard not to laugh if I'm honest, “And thanks for saving me too, I know that you did almost kill me, but I could have been ghost-touched.”

“I had to save you, Lockwood. When I saw your eyes go white, it was…terrifying. I never wanted to see that happen to someone I love again. Not after Norrie.” My voice broke at the end, the memories of Norrie had been brought back once more, and it was hard to resist tears. 

Lockwood reached out and held my hand, his rapier-calloused palms rough against mine. 

“It’s okay, Luce, I’m safe thanks to you. You don't need to worry.” He reassured me, rubbing small circles on my hand. 

“Lucy…” Lockwood started, before George burst open the door, making us both jump apart.

“It was Mr Hallcock” Was all he said. 

We rang DEPRAC.

─── ‧⁺˖✮˖⁺‧ ───

Turns out, Rebecca was a murder victim, but not from a fellow servant. She was murdered by none other than Mr Andrew Hallcock himself. The white thing found under the floorboards, her source, was a letter. A confession she was planning to send to the police before it was too late. It read:

“Dear Scotland Yard,

I would like to report Mr Andrew Hallcock on several accounts of abuse and neglect towards me. He is a monster, who took advantage of me and deserves to be hanged. 

He has harmed me before and blamed someone else for it. I am worried this will go too far. 

Please believe me, I am desperate.

Sincerely,

Rebecca Hughes.”

Mr Hallcock was used to getting away with things, so when he found this letter, he confronted her. To put it simply, she was a threat, so he ended her life. He then hid the letter under the floorboards, its presence being kept a secret for over 20 years. It wasn't until a new member of staff was treated the same as Rebecca, that she came out of her shell. Mr Hallcock knew this, so he swore us to secrecy to protect his reputation - and the promise of money had blind-sighted us.

It took them a while, but DEPRAC got him to confess; he was charged with murder, hiding evidence, as well as preventing justice. They let us off the hook for destroying half of his house, and gave us the £50,000 too, which was a bonus - It was one of the first times that Inspector Barnes had ever been nice to us. 

─── ‧⁺˖✮˖⁺‧ ───

We obviously had a celebratory breakfast, and the following day the table was so full of plates that the thinking cloth could hardly be seen. Lockwood and I had gone to Arif’s while George cooked, so there was a sea of full-English breakfast and doughnuts. We sat in our usual spots and tucked in. 

“I can’t believe you did it, didn’t think you were capable.” The skull spoke from its spot on the kitchen counter. I recited this to the boys. 

“Me neither if I'm honest,” George said, shovelling food onto his plate at a rapid rate. 

“I always knew we could do it, you pair don't give yourselves enough credit,” Lockwood responded. 

I heard the skull gag in the corner.

“You did say that it was going to be an easy case though, didn’t you? How well did that work out?” I asked him, eyeing the plasters still scattered across his face. 

He laughed, and it didn't hurt him this time. It caught George off guard and he joined in, making me laugh too. The sun shone brightly into the kitchen that day, casting a warm glow and reflecting on each of our happy faces (and the skulls).

We were Lockwood & Co., and I know it doesn't sound like it, but that was one of our best cases yet: The Weeping Girl. We weren't perfect by any means, but we worked well, even if a little unorthodox. 

─── ‧⁺˖✮˖⁺‧ ───

thank you for reading! please lmk any advice or tips :)

[princess-of-the-corner]

Once Again, More Fanfic Quotes! Now with Bonus Quotes from DC Comics!

Thermostat: Izuku only likes me for my body.

Tamaki: that sounds a bit risqué

Thermostat: I meant literally.

Thermostat: the side he stands on depends on the weather.

*

A Special Boy: Can I just interrupt to say that I hate when people leave trans people out of the LGBT community? Like what do you think T stands for, triceratops?

jackoff: tricycle

eight feet: tango

Cake Boss: tiramisu

cha cha real smooth: teammate

me me big boy: tetsutetsu

barry benson: tETSTUTETSU

sword lesbian: The triceratops named Tetsutetsu that liked to tango, rides on a tricycle, eats tiramisu and is a true teammate

*

RIDLEY QUEEN: *bakugou voice* welcome tO FUCKING FLAVORTOWN

*

Kirishima: *holds knife, and is about to start cutting the carrots diagonally*

Katsuki: Hand that the fuck over, right now.

*

Katsuki: …wait attention that isn’t annoyance or frustration is a thing? People actually do that shit?

Kirishima: …bro are you ok?

*

OzaiAndUrsa'sLovechild: murder :)

HereComesDatBoi: Agreed :)

GreenOverlord: guys no!

OrangeJuiceGoVroom: i agree.

GreenOverlord: thanks Iida!

OrangeJuiceGoVroom: oh no i was agreeing with them. Definite yes on the murder.

*

“Alright, what have we got?” Momo asked as he closed the door to her room behind him. 

“Smoke inhalation.” [Bakugou] told her. “I’ve got smoke inhalation.”

*

Best Jeanist: how the fuck do i correctly kidnap a child

Snipe: Kill their parents and tell the kid that they were actually monsters sent to pretend to be their parents.

Midnight: Candy or ice cream will get most kids on your side, just make sure you let them pick the flavor.

Thirteen: Maintaining a polite and calm demeanor will encourage the child to trust you.

Naomasa: … Kidnappings are usually committed by family members or someone close to the child so if you’re going to frame someone, I’d recommend using that.

Gang Orca: Just claim they’re your kid, fake DNA test results, and absolutely deny what anyone says to the contrary.

Ectoplasm: Not announcing your intentions in a group chat full of pro-heroes is also probably helpful.

*

“I have no idea how you survived your childhood.”

“My running hypothesis is that I’m immortal. I’ve been testing it rigorously and so far it’s held up.”

*

Eraserhead: You don’t count as an adult unless you can do laundry properly, cook real food, and go to a boring dinner party without someone dragging you there.

Hawks: What do you mean “do laundry properly” you put the clothing in the clothing sink, you put the soap in, you turn it on and then once it beeps you moved it to the clothing oven.

Hawks: It’s not that hard.

*

Elphaba: sucks to be wrong doesnt it uwu

Mine-a: don’t uwu at me in that tone of text

*

“If we’re gay, how does that make us unqualified to kill space aliens? Does being hetero make us more violent?”

*

Actual Comic Books Quotes

*

Kid Devil: AH-HAH-HAH-HAHH! FLEE! FLEE FROM THIS PLACE OF GODLESS SCIENCE! THAT’S RIGHT! You have summoned the APOCALYPSE with your love of SCIENCE! I HAVE COME TO COLLECT YOUR SOULS! You brought this on yourselves! By teaching EVOLUTION!

(Beat)

Robin: Well. It IS clearing out the lab.

*

(Headbutted)

Blue Beetle: AH! That hurt through the armor! What are you packing in there?!

Lonar: JUSTICE!

Blue Beetle: You have a forehead full of justice? What does that even MEAN?!

*

Jaime: Do you think they saw us?

Dan Garrett: We’re five grown men dressed in bright colors inside a clear plastic bubble set against a rainbow background, Jaime. They saw us.

*

Dick: For what it’s worth, how’d I do with him?

Bruce: … Are you asking me if you were convincing as a homicidal maniac, Dick?

Dick: I suppose I am.

Bruce: Then yes, as a matter of fact, you were.

*

Batman: Why haven’t you taken a side?

Catwoman: I’m not like them. They’re criminals.

Batman: You’re currently breaking into a safe that’s not yours.

Catwoman: You know what I mean. I’m not like them. They're unsuccessful criminals. 

Batman: Do I need to worry about you?

Catwoman: (amused) Are you checking up on me, Bat? Are you trying to protect me?

Batman: No. No one needs to protect you.

Catwoman: Oh. Well then, yes. You very much have to worry about me.

(They kiss)

Bruce: (In the present) Afterward, I slept. When I woke, you were gone. With the diamonds.

Selina: OK, yes. But in my defense, I did warn you. I’m not exactly unsuccessful.

*

Gordon: (Rubbing his nose) Just close your eyes and think about retirement.Somewhere warm where the giant turtles don’t talk.

*

(personal favourite)

Black Mask: Somehow, I don’t think you would be surprised at all to learn the life I have chosen can be a lonely one.

Red Hood/Jason Todd: Don’t take this the wrong way, but it might have to do with the whole BDSM theme. Just saying - maybe lose the mask once in a while? (Beat) Like at breakfast, as the most immediate example.

-

These are beautiful.

[artiststarme]

Robin has a nut allergy

Just a little snippet of Robin being allergic to nuts with some Steddie on the side. I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

It’s a well known fact within the Party that Robin is allergic to nuts. Whether it be because of genetics or her lesbianism that had her allergic to even being in the vicinity of nuts, male or otherwise, she was deathly allergic. And ever since an incident involving carrot cake, walnuts, and an ambulance ride to the ER, everyone knew it. 

She didn’t have an Epipen herself (they were too expensive and she’d rather die before spending $600 on something that might save her life) but Hopper now had three of them on his person at any given time. And Steve had stolen one of his emergency pens to put in the Beemer in case of emergencies. 

Either way, it had been a long time since she’s needed one and a long time since she had any sort of allergic reaction. Robin felt secure with her friends. With them, she didn’t have to check all of the ingredients on food containers or worry about one of them trying to murder her with concealed tree nuts, unlike her parents. Or so she thought. 

Because when she stepped into the Hopper-Byers’ house one afternoon on what was supposed to be her introduction to her first DnD campaign, her throat swelled shut. Within seconds she was choking, her face turning red and her eyes watering. She couldn’t breathe. 

She clawed at her throat in an effort to get air in. She vaguely felt Steve pulling her out of the doorway of his house and distantly heard him yelling at Eddie to grab something from his glove box. Meanwhile, Robin was panicking. She couldn’t get enough air in and her muscles were starting to weaken. She could feel her body fighting itself as it responded to the airborne molecules of nuts in the air. 

Her vision was tunneling and her breaths were labored by the time she felt a sharp stab in her right thigh. Immediately, the swelling in her throat started to lessen and her vision began to clear. Her chest heaved for the air it was deprived of and her ears tuned back into her surroundings. 

“C’mon Eddie, help me pick her up. We have to get her to the hospital. Let’s go!”

“Hey Stevie, calm down. She’s fine now. We’ll get her to the hospital and she’ll be okay. I’ll drive, you just hold onto Robin.”

“What even happened? She was having an allergic reaction?” She thinks that was Jonathan but she couldn’t be sure with her eyes still closed. 

“She’s allergic to nuts. Especially pecans and walnuts,” that darling voice was Will’s. She’s recognize his soft tone anywhere. 

“Oh my god! I was making pecan pie, I forgot! I feel horrible!” That was Joyce, no one else could sound so hysteric. 

The rest of the conversation escaped her as Steve and Eddie set her in the Beemer and took off towards the hospital. She nodded off in Steve’s arms in the back of the car and Eddie drive like a bat out of hell to get her help. 

When she woke up, she was resting on a hospital bed with IVs in her hands and a blanket pulled up to her chest. Night had fallen and Steve and Eddie were still by her bedside, curled up on a single chair with their limbs wrapped around each other. 

Knowing she was safe in the presence of her best friends, she let her eyes slip closed and went back to sleep. There would be apologies made in the morning and hysterical promises made but for now, she would rest in the presence of her capital P platonic soulmate and his boyfriend, her other best friend. Everything else could be dealt with later.

Permanent tag list: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @straight4joekeery @trippypancakes @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschild @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone @awkwardgravity1

[watchinghallmark]

Carrot Cake Murder

[hallmark-movie-fanatics]

Carrot Cake Murder: A Hannah Swensen Mysteries - photo preview 1 of 2

[a-forbidden-detective]

Colluding

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial with the prompt #FFF252 Spill the tea and @fluffbruary April 14 prompt : coffee | florist | vision

Fandom: Kamonohashi Ron no Kindan suiri/ Ron Kamonohashi: Deranged Detective

Pairing: RonToto, Ron & Kei Moore Kikuma

Words: 1148

Sprinkled with spoilers from Chapters 122 to 129, please tread carefully.

—

RON didn’t think of seeing Kei ever again. He wished it could have happened when the younger man was not in danger. Would it be nice to have a conversation about the past and the present times without someone being killed or gravely hurt? So many things to catch up, so many things to talk about.

So when Ron’s phone rang and registered an unknown number, it made him raise his left eyebrow. It also made him a tad bit excited, truth to tell.

“Ron-senpai.” It was Kei, his voice a bit croaky, Ron surmised, from not speaking much. The forbidden detective made a sigh of relief. A gesture that seemed to encourage the other party to extend an invitation, to continue the acquaintance.

The Detective Alliance’s Japanese branch director was released from the hospital after the attack from Alice Moriarty’s men. Ron and Toto found out that Tiger Daniel Moriarty was still alive, who masterminded the attempted murder. Kei’s recuperation took place somewhere away from Tokyo, a place that no one knew except for the Detective Alliance insiders.

“I would be delighted if I could see you again …Ron… Senpai. Alone.” Out of the blue, Ron clutched his chest. His heart beat so fast. He turned his gaze to the door, any minute from now, Toto would return from the police briefing.

“Fine, tell me when and where can we meet up.”

~~

When Ron turned 13, he and his mother did a road trip together heading to Akita. The town was teeming with onsen but they went to a particular place. A man was waiting for them at the gate. There was a boy next to him, clinging to his side, a boy much younger than him.

“Kiku!!!!” Ron ran up to the man whose familiarity urged him to come to him. He was a frequent visitor to his grandparents’ house and a confidante of his mother for years.

“Ron-kun you haven’t met my son, Kei.” Like him, the boy seemed to have a foreigner mother, judging from his features. What made him stand out was the copious amount of acne that began to build up on his forehead. Otherwise, Ron found him attractive. His black eyebrows reminded him of a samurai character he once read as a small child. He wanted to be acquainted with that boy someday.

~~

And so here they were in the cafe inside the Detective Alliance’s secret headquarters in Japan. A car picked him up and brought him to Kei, who had already taken his seat waiting for him while drinking his English breakfast tea and was about to spread cream and strawberry jam on his scones.

“Care to join me for an afternoon tea?” There were lemon and carrot cakes and egg, cucumber and salmon sandwiches laid out on the two-tier silver tray apart from the newly baked scones the younger man was consuming at the moment.

“Only coffee for me, Kei. I had lunch with Toto.”

“Ah… of course.” Kei said. “How is he dealing with all of this? How is your … partner?” He tried hard not to show the disappointment tending to break onto the surface.

“You mean Toto?” The question bewildered Ron. The police officer would take it as a responsibility as it was a personal matter, a task that must be solved. Like always.

Who else?

Kei sensed his Senpai’s confusion and attempted to change the topic. After all, he didn’t know anything about the Japanese police investigator other than it was his father who was the couple’s matchmaker.

“He matters to you a lot, ne Ron-senpai?”

The question might seem daunting. Toto never advertised their relationship at all but everyone knew that they were partners in every sense of the word. There were of course some misunderstandings at first but somehow it was already resolved after the situation with Kawasemi-san and then later the fire at the Plateau Auberge that cemented their relationship. If Ron were honest to himself, he was not so sure of the former. It was true that the incident at the burning hotel confirmed that they were ready to die together, but when it came to Kawasemi-san he was not at all convinced Toto wanted to give up the Aichi police investigator and his affections. Toto was consciously avoiding the possibility of crossing paths with him and it made Ron uncomfortably suspicious. In his mind he gave Toto a carte blanche of his trust. No way Toto would betray him, would he?

“Yes, he is very important to me.”

~~

As soon as Kei cut the telephone conversation, Toto began to speak. His eyes fiery and questioning.

“Spill the tea. What happened between the two of you? There must be something that you’ve done in the past that made him hate you.”

Ron looked at Toto then brought his attention to his lap, which seemed to be much more important than his partner’s concern.

“Like what he said, youthful indiscretion,” Ron said.

Toto surmised that he was avoiding the topic. So, he tried again.

“Excuse me? What did you mean by that? There are so many types of youthful indiscretions.”

“Before l headed to England to study at the BLUE Academy, Kei asked me that once we were finished, we should team up like my legendary ancestor and his companion had done.”

“And?” Toto knew that there might be more to it.

“It did not happen, of course. I told him that it would not do. I wanted to work alone.”

Ron took a bag of black sugar from the table and started to drink it then he stood up and opened the blinds. He usually never did, but something bothered him when he did not know the answer. Toto sensed his partner’s uneasiness. Kei was now a case he had to solve. A big one at that.

“That was the only reason?”

“What else should I tell you? What else is there to reveal? His immaturity will cause him his life! And the Detective Alliance is not much of a great help!” Ron hit the wall next to where he was standing that nearly gave Toto a heart attack. This show of emotion was out of character.

Toto shook his head out of frustration. Forcing Ron to be truthful was a perplexing task that Toto avoided if he could.

“After this, you must discuss whatever misunderstanding you two have. This cannot go on forever. One way or another we must continue cooperating with him, not only because of your detective license, but also knowing that he is Kiku-san’s son and a higher-up from the Detective Alliance, he could also be helpful to us.”

Ron smirked. “Somehow you begin to think like me, Toto. I like that.”

Toto went up to him and embraced him from behind, hoping that he could calm Ron down, even for a short while.

(tbc)

[notsoattractivearenti]

Polar Opposites (Christian Pulisic x Reader) - Part 2

WC: 1.4K

Warnings: curse words

A/N: I honestly didn't plan on writing this second part this soon but here it is 🤭 Huge thanks to @ariddletobesolved for her help! 💗 Hope you all enjoy and I'd love to hear your thoughts thru reply/reblog/ask 🫶 If you wanna be added to the taglist let me know 😊 Feedbacks are highly appreciated!

| PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4 |

---

Planning a party is one of your favorite things to do, but this time you couldn’t even enjoy doing so because you had to plan an engagement party with someone you pretty much despised – it was such a nightmare.  The previous day, Christian agreed to come to your place to discuss the arrangement.

“Black and white. Simple.”

“Black and white? Wha- Are we throwing them a fucking funeral? No. Pick other colors, Christian. Don’t be so basic.”

“Oh, like you have a better suggestion?”

“Umm, as a matter of fact I do. I’m thinking light blue, ivo-“

Christian gagged, “Yuck, soft colors? Too feminine, sounds horrible. Veto.”

“Sure, I forgot how “masculine” you are for a second,” you rolled your eyes, responded to his objection sarcastically, “of course “feminine” colors give you the ick.”

“Hey don’t twist my words! That’s not what I’m saying!” Christian shouted. 

You and Christian spent more than 2 hours just arguing over the theme and color scheme for the party. Claire and Nick put you and Christian in charge of everything – they only informed you about the date and possible guest list – so both of you had to plan the whole thing together. You two shared the same goal: to make this party perfect for the happy couple – but had very different approaches. 

- - -

“Listen... Outdoor dinner is so romantic. You can literally look at the night sky, and the lights, oh... Bet you they would love it!”

“Why outdoor when we can do it indoors? It’s sheltered, we can control the temperature inside, no bugs... Need I say more?” He argued.

- - -

“Carrot cake. Definitely carrot cake.” He suggested.

“Nooooo,” you whined, “you literally have the worst taste in everything. Disgusting!” 

“What do you mean ‘disgusting’? It’s fucking delicious!”

“It is most certainly not. But Red Velvet is, so let’s just go with that.”

“Veto!”

- - -

“I think we should go with plated dinner. It’s a lot more sophisticated. And simple. An-“

“Jesus, Christian!” You interrupted him. “How is that even simple? Have you ever planned a dinner party before???”

“Okay then, please explain how the fuck could a buffet be better than plated dinner???”

“Buffet is the only right choice! What if some of the guests don’t like the food? With a buffet at least they have more options. It’s not even the wedding!” You insisted.

- - -

It was almost impossible for both of you to find a common ground. He thought your idea was too complicated and took a lot longer to plan, while you thought his was too effortless and didn’t feel special at all. You two kept pushing your ideas to each other and were too stubborn to compromise.

“Do you want to plan a party or not? Stop messing around and for fuck’s sake, just decide on something!” At this point, Christian had lost most of his patience.

“I was never messing around in the first place! Ugh,” you grunted, “I’m so close on murdering you, you pigheaded douchebag.”

“Please, Y/N, kill me now,” he replied mockingly, “I’d rather die than have to go through this shit with you.”

“That’s it, I need a fucking break,” you said as you stood up and aggressively grabbed your phone, “I’ll be back in- you know what? Why bother?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Good Lord... Sure, take all the time you need,” he muttered while watching you storm out, “it’s not like we have a deadline or something.”

 You left without saying a word and gave him a middle finger before you angrily slammed the door. You were like a ticking time bomb – one more word from him and you would explode. You needed a moment to cool down after an extremely stressful time. You were aware that this was going to be hard, but not this hard. You have never met someone as infuriating as Christian, he really got on your nerves – and since you and Christian had pivotal roles in your best friends’ wedding, you had no choice but stuck with him.

Usually, when you were this upset, you would call Claire to vent. She’s a really good listener, and you always feel comfortable talking about everything to her. But right now, you couldn’t do it because you didn’t want to stress her out. She picked you as her Person of Honor and you’ve accepted every responsibility that comes with the role – you really couldn’t let her down. She didn’t need to know this struggle of yours just yet. 

After walking around the neighborhood for some time, you finally felt ready to go back on planning the engagement party with Christian. But shortly before, you tried to prepare yourself by closing your eyes, took three deep breaths, then whispered to yourself: Claire, I’m gonna do my best for you.

 “Oh look who’s back!” As soon as you opened the front door, you heard him shout. “You have wasted, uh...” he checked his watch, “20 minutes of planning time. We could literally use those 20 minutes to decide on foods, you know.”

You pressed your lips together and shook your head, trying not to snap at him. 

“My house, my rules,” you responded calmly. “20 minutes is not even that long, anyway. You’ve been here for like, what, probably 5 hours now? And still, no decision has been made.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Our fault, you dumbass. I mean, you could’ve written down some ideas in those 20 minutes, yet you did nothing.”

He narrowed his eyes, displeased by your answer. “Gah, fine,” he groaned, “let’s get back to business.”

“Oh, and by the way, when you were out doing whatever I got bored and went through your refrigerator,” he added. “Thanks for the ice cream and the berries, they were so good.”

“Wha- Christian!” You slapped his arm, “I just bought them this morning! I expect you to reimburse those!”

After countless arguments and disagreements, you two finally came up with a solid plan. It was such a long, hard day for both of you, but at least you were able to compromise and make big decisions together. After all, this celebration was not about you – it was about Nick and Claire.

---

It was the day of the engagement party. Since 9 AM you and Christian had gone back and forth to check out the venue and make sure everything went as planned. You were nervous about this entire party, especially because you didn’t get to tell Nick and Claire since they asked you to keep the details as a surprise.

The party went great and smoothly, you were glad you didn’t have anything to worry about anymore. Everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives and the couple was very pleased with how this party turned out – from the theme and decorations, the venue, the foods and drinks, and everything else. 

“Hey, Y/N,” as Christian pulled you aside, “looks like we nailed it.”

You smiled while glancing around the room. “Yeah, we really did, didn’t we?”

“Sorry I snapped at you the other day,” he apologized, “I was just really stressed out back then.”

You nodded, “yeah, I’m sorry too. I swear we’re just too different! But at least we worked well together for tonight.”

There was a moment of silence between you and Christian until Nick and Claire came and greeted you both.

“Great job you guys! This is a lot better than I expected!” Claire couldn’t stop gushing over the party.

“Thank you so much, Y/N, Christian. You threw an amazing party together! I can see how great of a team you both are,” Nick said, he was beaming the entire time.

You and Christian silently shared a look at one another, you both were very proud of how well you put this beautiful celebration despite your differences – strong differences. He then gave you a nod and a wink, and you jokingly gagged in response. 

Deep down, you agreed with Nick – you really were a great team. Who would’ve thought you could get along? 

“I mean… Between the two of us, I’m the one with more brain cells, so…”

And… there it is. Yes, that one sentence reminded you how Christian was still irritating - just not as bad as before. At this point, you still didn’t know Christian very well, but you knew that the moment you and him getting along was temporary. Despite that, however your feeling towards him might be, you still had to cooperate with him until the wedding is over.

---

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @masonspulisic @swimmingismywholelife @chelseagirl98 @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @mortirolo @masonsrem @cinderellawithashoe @alwaysclassyeagle

[lordkingsmith]

My nephews favorite book at the moment is a police procedural spoof called “the case of the missing carrot cake” we own it and read it to him, and he also likes listening to it on a website called storyline online (we can’t do the scream right for Miss Bunny, so often this one is just an audio book relegated affair)

The story on YouTube

unfortunately for me, I’ve heard and read this one so often my brain’s started wandering into “what if you turned it into a murder mystery and made all the characters human counterparts. Changing basically nothing else. You’d have a casual cannibal who hates carrots. Instead of sleep-eating a cake it’s sleep-murdering someone. It’d be so funny but so ridiculous too lol. I kinda wanna write it but I’ll have to think about the suspects and counterparts, and the sleep murderer

[gaslightgatekeepgirlbosscombat]

Group G, Round 2, Poll 4:

Propaganda under the cut

Roxanne Wolf

She loves herself a lot and she has a very valid reason to. Plus she likes carrot cake.

Willy Stampler

Willy has been gatekeepers girlbossing gaslighting since he was born. He managed to get to the Forgotten Realms when he died out of sheer willpower. He then manipulated 2 other shit dads into joining him in his quest for power and also immortality. Even after being imprisoned for uhhhh roughly 30 years he came out ready and raring to do the exact same thing yet again and successfully manipulated a teen girl into helping him murder someone. Literally just known asshole and problem causer AND a self made man. Furthermore he is canonically extremely hot and I think this helps.