#i have 4 hours left and less than 1000 words to go

[kaustic]

GOOD LUCK ON YOUR ESSAY I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT 💫💫

tyyyy im doing my best <- took a way longer break than I meant to and also forgot about a quiz I had to take

[ataraxiaspainting]

Sweet Hibiscus Tea.

Yan Shalnark x F Reader.

Synopsis: After a day of finally trying to face your social anxiety, you walk home alone. The roads are empty, quiet, and eerie. But you are almost home now, aren’t you? You are not going to cry anymore. Just when you think life is starting to turn around for you, it goes in the exact opposite direction. 

Warnings: Yandere themes, violence, kidnapping, misogyny, not SFW implications, psychological horror elements, manipulation, panic attacks, Shalnark being an asshole, unhealthy relationships, and stalking.

Word Count: 5k.

Can be considered to be within the Hier Encore universe.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Look Who’s Inside Again by Bo Burnham

Things She Said by Chris Garneau

Baby Bride Rag by Roar

Butch 4 Butch by Rio Romeo

Appetite of a People-Pleaser by Ghost and Pals

Valentine, Texas by Mitski

I’m Yer Dad by GRLwood

Cry Baby by Melanie Martinez

Freaks by Surf Curse

Neighbour by Mother Mother

“You stay soft, you get beaten; only natural to harden up.” — Mitski, Stay Soft

*~*~*~*

Regardless of how much time has passed, this convenience store always remains the same.

There is always the familiar, tired face of the clerk behind the cash register, her gaze never on you or any other customer who walks in and out of the doors, a simple, muted hello being the only proof that she noticed you.

The lights dim and blink without fail, fading from white to a shade of daffodil to dark flaxen before disappearing and resurfacing yet again as alabaster. No matter how black the night sky is, the less-than-bright illumination never changes.

Neither does the rest of the scenery.

Next to the payment area are two vending machines, with one not functioning. It is dead, with the glass broken by a punch that left a large gaping hole in the dead center. Once when you accidentally touched the front wall while bending down to get your can of lemonade from the working one, it left a sticky residue that had you rubbing your palm on your sweater for what felt like an eternity. It somewhat helped, you guessed, but it also stained your clothes. The vending machine to its right was always out of most sweet drinks, often leaving you with the choice of coffee, lemonade, green tea, or water.

You don’t buy any snacks aside from strawberry Pocky and, if you are lucky, a chocolate bar.

But you do buy meals here because it is cheap. Usually fish with miso or a salad, but there have been times when you can find a premade sandwich.

The total cost comes to between 500 to 1000 Jenny. There is always a poster that claims the cashier is the employee of the month, though you are certain that she is the only one who works there.

The only thing that ever changes is the calendar behind her. The past dates are crossed out in red ink that is in the form of thick, scraggly lines. They remind you of the drawings you used to make as a child when your father was too busy screaming outside your door and your mother was too powerless to do anything but cry and yelp as he hit her. One time you drew them fighting, and when one of your maids saw it, it inevitably found its way to his desk.

Needless to say, he was not happy by any means.

*~*~*~*

The calendar behind the worker reads the 17th of April, 1998. On this day in 1985, your first and only ever friend, the head gardener’s apprentice, went missing. When you eventually gathered up the courage after waiting for hours outside, you went to your father’s room to ask where she was.

“She has been removed from the premises for distracting you instead of doing her job.” The answer you got was to the point, because when has he ever been warm to you? “I made sure that she had learned her lesson before she died. She was in pain the whole time. It was a shame to put a bullet between her pretty eyes. But at least she had a bit more use to me beforehand.”

You cried and cried until you threw up.

That is when your mother, the usual bandage over her left cheek this time, came in and sat on your bed gently, sadly.

She patted the area next to her and slowly you stood up from the floor where you kneeled as you sobbed and went over. She asked you if you wanted a hug and you said no. She responded with a simple nod, respecting your answer. But then what she said next turned your tear-stricken face into a glare.

“She’s alive.” She muttered, along with thanks to God and a hold of the cross on her neck. 

“...What?”

Your mother shushed you when she heard footsteps coming to the door. When the sound eventually leaves further into the hallway, she leans into your ear while pointing to your vanity. Your gaze leads you to the dusty cat statue made of garnet.

It got shattered a little while ago when a maid cleaning your room accidentally made it fall to the floor. You felt bad for her as she was a new hire, so you never told anyone aside from your mother. You knew that if your father, the head of this household, ever found out he would punish her severely, even when he did not care for the statue at all. You got to choose, if you were lucky, which part gets whipped or cut off.

“Yes.”

Her short answer leaves you almost jumping up out of your seat. “...Huh?”

“At last week’s banquet, she caught the attention of your father’s wealthiest business partner.” She turns to the curtains covering the lone window in your room, her back now facing you. “She was tricked into boarding a car when the driver claimed you were inside waiting for her. To the partner in question, she is nothing but another pretty face to add to his collection.”

At the slight turn of the doorknob next door, you two go as still as wax people in a museum. “Why did he lie to me?”

“Why? Well, he certainly did not want you rebelling against his decision.”

“But I have never rebelled against him before.”

“I know.” Your mother lets out a sharp laugh, salty and sour. “I know you are always trying to be good, trying to stay under the radar. I know, I know because you are a lot like me. but now I am going to teach you a lesson about your father and the world at large. Remember that a man’s resentful attitude will always result in a woman’s agony, physical or otherwise, always. However, when things go right for a man, a woman is either praised like a dog or ignored until something goes wrong because it is never enough.”

You can’t breathe. “But why? Why, why, why? What did I do wrong? What could I have done right?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. There is nothing you can do or could have done. No matter what, your faults will always be found. That is how most men are raised, to find, and how most women are raised, to hide.”

“...”

“Men’s hearts are such cruel, small things. Oftentimes they can only fit themselves in them, but there have been times where even they cannot fit.” She is still holding onto the cross charm on her gold necklace, firmer than she has ever held you. “They are cold, are or are almost dead. There is no room for people like you and me. No room at all. All they see us as is something to own, something with no feelings whatsoever, and whose only purpose is to please no matter the cost. Such pigs, all of them.” She murmurs some prayers that you cannot hear. “I want you to be better. I want what is best for you, what I never have been able to accomplish; run and live.”

She opens the drawer beside your bed, and you don’t do anything to stop her. It is not like you can hide anything, from her or anyone else in this house. Whatever is buried eventually resurfaces. She pulls out your rarely used bible, a thick layer of dust on the leather cover. It smells and makes you cough. She doesn’t though.

“At least your father does not force you to read this day and night.”

“Mmhmm.”

“It is one of the few things I appreciate him not doing, I do not want you to grow up hating the church.”

“I know.”

“He has made you hate a lot of things already.”

She turns the pages, dust flying around the cold air.

“He made me hate a lot of things too. Blankets, steaks, cameras. The color white, the color black, the color red. The sounds of belts unbuckling, the sound of laughter, the sounds of doors opening and closing and locking.”

You don’t say anything, only looking at her hands. Only in the dark can you not see her scars, her blooming wrinkles, and the bruises that are always fresh. 

You don’t say anything, because you have learned from a very young age that you are her only listening ear. You are the only one who keeps her head on her shoulders. You don’t say anything, because she is right. He has made you hate plenty of things. But, but, but. But you can’t hate him, and you can’t hate your mother.

You can’t hate her, because who knows what she would do when she finds out that no one cares about her pain in this hell?

“Mother.” You mutter, putting your head on her shoulder as you scan the text on the page that she selected. She does not stop you. 

“Yes, [First]?”

“Do you hate me?” You ask, trying so very hard to not let her see the tears that threaten to come out of your eyes. “Because… because… if I wasn’t conceived, you wouldn’t be here hurting, would you?”

You could swear that you heard her heart skip a beat.

“...I would not be here, yes.”

She is honest, for once. You know at least some of this situation is all your fault.

“Do you hate me?”

“...”

“Mother, please answer me.”

You hear a sniffle as she starts mumbling the words written. “‘A gracious woman gets honor, and violent men get riches.’”

You choose not to press on the subject. You don’t want her to suffer anymore.

*~*~*~*

You buy an orange-flavored Ramune soda, a pack of pork ginger instant ramen, and strawberry Pocky.

The total would come to about 600 Jenny if your quick calculations are right. You could get something extra, like a topping for your ramen or some chips. But would it be wise? You have never been someone who finishes their plate after you had ran away, so what if you just waste your money?

So, you decide not to get anything else.

You walk to the cash register.

You hear an explosion from the back of the building. Small sparks of white and orange. The lights go off before you can place your chosen items down, and you can hear the employee cursing under her breath. The breaker. What happened?

“Damn it, I don’t get paid enough for this shit.” She grumbles, putting her thumb and pointer finger on the bridge of her nose, rubbing. “No raises whatsoever. Only one here. Without me, this place wouldn’t be working, ungrateful pricks.”

Fighting the way your heart rate shoots up, you decide that talking to her would be best. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to someone aside from your boss, right? 

Maybe your anxieties would quell, and you can eventually graduate to talking to your co-workers, that would be a dream come true for you.

You haven’t had a friend, a real friend, ever since Rose was taken from you all those years ago. You still cry whenever you think about her. You miss her. Is she dead, is she alive?

You still blame yourself. If only you hadn’t talked to her, maybe she would still be with you. What kind of adult would she have been? A kind one, a responsible one? You would still be friends at least, wouldn’t you? Or would she grow to hate you, if she didn’t already?

You keep telling yourself that she wouldn’t and didn’t, but that is not what your mind tells you.

Is she dead?

You could picture a rotting corpse six feet under. An unmarked grave. Glassy, dead, amber eyes looking upward to anyone who looks down, helpless, pleading. You always liked them, always complimenting them much to Rose’s shy chuckles. She was so pretty, that much was true. You could only imagine how beautiful she would have been as an adult.

Her looks were a personal gift from God, the heavens, and the angels.

But if she didn’t have them, would she not have been treated like she was in the estate?

“Erm, excuse me,” You mutter, taking a few steps forward. “If you want I can go check it out.”

It is what Rose would do. She always liked helping others. You just wish that people would have appreciated it more and seen past her appearance. It was a double-edged sword. It helped her become the head gardener’s apprentice but also caught the attention of both your father and his business partners. You felt bad for her, and still do.

The employee turns around, her confusion prominent despite the dark. 

“Erm,” You mutter, looking down at your hands and entangling your fingers in one another. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment. “Is that okay?”

It takes a few moments to respond. Her surprise was unexpected, as you never spoke to her outside of asking her if she had change or telling her you hoped that she had a good night. Rose would be better at this kind of thing. You once had a dream that at a fast food joint, an adult her would order for you and correct the staff when they put pickles on your burger. It’s what could have been, funny moments like that. She had always been the one to take charge, you following her like a lost puppy.

You miss her so much.

So much.

The worker slowly nods. “...Okay.”

“...It’s in the back, right? The breaker.”

This is so awkward. Rose would be better. You wish she was here. Or your mother. Anyone.

“...Uh. Um… I like your eyeliner.” As soon as you say that, you curse at yourself, not wanting to sound like a creep. The woman’s confusion becomes even more prominent.

“...Thanks, and yeah, it’s in the back.”

“...Okay.” Jesus Christ. You turn away from her, the heat on your cheeks hot enough to be mistaken for a fever. This is not what Rose would have done.

“...You can leave your stuff here.” She says, and you quickly spin your heel and put your items on the counter. “It’s not like they are going to grow legs and run off, so relax.”

“...” You both chuckle, and you feel slightly better. “...Thanks. I’ll go now.”

“...” You start walking. “Wrong way.”

You stop.

It takes you a few seconds for you to move back to first base and go off in the opposite direction. As soon as you open the creaky steel door, strong rain and cold wind greet you, along with a loud clap of thunder and lightning.

Perhaps you could go back and get your umbrella from the stand by the door. But that would be even more awkward.

“Stupid. Stupid.”

“If we are lucky, the wind simply detached it or something. Not the best at this sort of thing, though.”

“I don’t think breakers detach.” You could picture her shrugging and scoffing at your murmur. “Sorry. Sorry. Just… sorry. I’m the best at this sort of thing either.”

You close the door behind you and start looking amongst the pitter-patter of the raindrops and gusts that nearly make you fall over. 

Stupid. Why do you make everything so weird? Rose would have been so much more charismatic. It was one of her strongest traits after all.

Stupid.

It’s hard to see. Trying not to trip over stones and cracked cement, you grip onto the wall and walk forward. Soon, you feel something.

“Ew, ew, ew!” You cry out, quickly moving your hand away from the slimy slug. “Ew!”

“You okay?”

“Uh, nothing. Just a bug. Yeah, just a bug.”

You hear a chuckle. Stupid.

“Sorry!” You exclaim, almost bowing your head. “Sorry! Really!”

Making sure you don’t touch the slug again, you keep moving.

Eventually, you find the breaker. But it wasn’t what you were expecting by any means. The damage almost looks like it was done on purpose, the way it was open and covered in soot. Did something get to it?

The breaker that exploded was a mass of melted metal that had been blown apart from the intense amount of heat and pressure. It was now barely recognizable as a single unit–parts of it scattered across the cement path and others having been fused and becoming something else entirely. The metal had been melted and blown upwards in the sheer force of the explosion, coating parts of the wall, wet grass, and roof with small, solidified droplets of metal. The ground around the remains of the breaker is burnt and scarred with traces of the immense fire that had consumed it.

It seems the rain put it out.

“No hope for this, huh?”

“Hey,” The employee calls out. “How bad is it? If there is nothing you can do, come back inside.”

So, you do.

The way she turns at you is robotic almost. A smile is on her face that was not there before. She nods when she sees you. Something tells you to not approach.

“It exploded into molten metal.”

“Oh well.”

Under the stormy skies, her gaze turns pale. Her eyes, seemingly captivating, lack any hint of vitality, while her lips curve in a disarming and saccharine manner. A shiver runs down your spine as you meet her gaze, every fiber of your being urging you to flee. Deep within your primal instincts, an innate awareness stirs, recognizing the smile as a charade, a mask of humanity that ventures into the realm of unease: akin to an artificial being adorned with synthetic flesh or a wax figure encased in glass. Those lifeless, white eyes, coupled with a forked tongue and an unsettlingly beautiful countenance, leave you with an undeniable sense of mistrust.

“You’re not mad? Really? Um…”

Something is off. What happened? She looks more like an imposter than anything else. But if she is, where did the real cashier go?

“Don’t worry.” She says, her voice oddly chipper and no longer confused by your awkwardness. “It’s fine. I’m quitting anyway, so it’ll be my boss’ problem.”

You turn your head. “Really?”

She nods. Something is off.

“Like really?”

You blink multiple times and you don’t think she does. She just stands there. Slowly, she nods. Something tells you to run yet again.

“Um… um… okay. Okay. I’ll just pay and leave. How much does it come up to?”

She shakes her head.

“Um. I have to pay. It’s thievery if I don’t.” You get closer. “It’s the law.”

“It’s fine.”

“I can’t just not pay.” You say, taking out your wallet from your sweater pocket. “That’s stealing. It’s wrong.”

Every action she takes is measured and precise, and she seems to move like a machine rather than a person. It’s as if she’s been programmed to act and talk in a certain way, and she doesn’t seem to have the ability to break out of that. She simply stares at you, not speaking.

Run.

You undo the metallic button, hearing the shuffling of paper Jenny within your wallet. “Um. Let me pay. Please.”

She simply shakes her head again.

“It’s fine.” The employee says, the smile still plastered on her face. There is quite more than a hint of blankness and detachment in her expression. She speaks in a mechanical and emotionless manner, her words delivered as though repeated from a script of carefully chosen sentences. Her movements are quick and precise, putting your chosen items in a plastic bag. There is no life or energy in her actions, instead, she moves like a mindless machine, performing her tasks before her without showing any personality of her own. Is it better to just accept it?

What should you do? What shouldn’t you do? Is she joking? Should you leave?

What would Rose do?

One of her hands grasps onto the plastic handles and she holds it out before you. There is no authenticity or warmth. Her eyes are blank. What happened? Should you ask? Should you just take the bag without saying anything further?

“Okay,” You murmur, obeying her silent command. “I hope you don’t get into any trouble though.”

*~*~*~*

Boss (9th May 1996 17:45)

Did you find anything?

Boss (9th May 1996 17:45)

Feitan found her heels nearby along with some blood, so she couldn’t have gotten very far.

You (9th May 1996 17:45)

Nothing yet

Boss (9th May 1996 17:47)

Try checking the stores nearby.

Boss (9th May 1996 17:47)

From the blood trail, she is most likely injured from running and trying to fix herself up in some sort of shelter.

Boss (9th May 1996 17:48)

She may have also discarded the rest of her clothes, not just the heels, and is currently wearing something else.

You (9th May 1996 18:15)

I found a dress and jewelry at the bottom of a lake

You (9th May 1996 18:18)

(image sent)

Boss (9th May 1996 18:20)

That’s it.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:20)

Disappointing. I’ll send over Pakunoda to ask people nearby.

You (9th May 1996 18:20)

K

You (9th May 1996 18:21)

Don’t cry, I’m sure we’ll find her soon :) 

Boss (9th May 1996 18:22)

I wasn’t crying.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:22)

I just thought she came around already.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:23)

This will set our heists back weeks.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:24)

She has planned this out for more than a year, it seems.

*~*~*~*

Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. You can’t hear anything else. The sounds sting your ears like an aggravated hornet. 

The darkness around you is solid, more so than the cracked, aged concrete path beneath your shoes. There is a tiny light in the distance; a streetlamp.

Silence.

“...”

“Have a good day!”

“...Thank you.”

Let there be light.

“Um…” You can’t see anything. The sounds… stopped. “...Time to go home.”

But the pain stays. 

It feels like a drill. 

It hurts.

“...” You feel deaf and blind. No, maybe something even worse. “...”

You turn around, to the dark convenience store, and you see the cashier still staring at you. “Have a good day!”

“...”

“[First]?”

…How does she know your name? Did you say it to her in the past?

When you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you.

“[First], dear.” She starts waving as you look at her. “[First]. [First]. [First]. [First]. [First]!”

There is nothing but emptiness. Is your name all she can say? What happened to her? It is like she has regressed. Like a storm cloud in summer, you do not wish for this pain. Now you feel deaf and blind and mute now. 

You almost wish that you were dead. All there is is pain. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

Interruption. The sounds returned. Is this good? Is this bad? Does it matter at all? 

You walk. You don’t speak. Only walk. You can’t breathe. You can only move. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. 

Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

A hand clamps over your mouth.

You drop the plastic bag from shock, and then you finally hear something other than those sounds; glass shattering.

“Sh…” A voice, calm, along with the smell of oranges. “It’s okay.”

“...!”

“Don’t scream.”

The touch of lips, a man’s lips, on your ear, thin and hard. 

“Breathe. Just breathe for me, okay?”

But you can’t. The wind goes down your throat. It is suffocating. You can’t breathe. You smell oranges and something rotting, blood.

It stinks. It fucking stinks.

Christ. Get away. That stink. That fucking stink. Your body rejects it by continuing to not breathe.

“Sh… Breathe. Just breathe, for me, for you, for us.”

“...St… Sto-”

“Sh…” The voice is sweet, not at all sour, like candy. “Calm down. Nothing bad is going to happen. Just breathe. You’re going to pass out.” The lips and the scent of his breath are like salted leather in a butcher’s shop, stinky and rotting. “Calm down. Don’t worry.”

“...Sto… Si-”

“Breathe. Sh… It’s okay. Breathe.”

“...Ge… Sti…”

“Sh… Breathe. Breathe, [First]. Breathe. [First]. Breathe. Breathe. It’s okay. Don’t worry about all this. Breathe.”

When you finally do, you gasp, desperate. “...Huff… Huff… Huff…”

Get off of me, I can smell you. 

“There we go!”

Your vision clears up a bit. “...Huff… Huff… Huff…”

“Just keep breathing.”

“...Huff…”

You can smell him. You can practically taste him, with his mouth so close to you.

“Whew! That was a close one!” The man exclaimed, wrapping his other arm around your waist.

Pain. Get off of me. I can smell you, I can hear you, I can taste you. Get off of me. Please.

The pain still stays, in your chest and your ears, and your head. Oranges. Blood.

Get off of me.

Please–

A pain in the back of your neck and you go limp.

Darkness. Then pain again. You can’t move. You can only breathe. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

*~*~*~*

SAINTSHORE SPACE THEATRE

UNDER THE DIRECTION OF RANDOLF URASLEF, GRETEL JAMES, AND QUINCEY J. ORATICE

PAUL DONSHEL CELESTE BAKER   ANNE CROAKS

AND

THE GREAT COMET THEATRE COMPANY

SWAN LAKE

ADAPTED BY MUSIC WRITTEN BY PYOTR ILLYICH TCHAIKOVSKY

INSPIRED BY THE CHOREOGRAPHY OF JULIUS REISINGER

WITH THE WONDERFUL CAST OF

(IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE)

Odette, the White Swan………………………………………………………….JEAN YVETTE

Odile, the Black Swan……………………………………………………………...JUNO LILOU

Prince Siegfried……………………………………………………………(the name is illegible.)

The rest of the list’s names cannot be read just like Prince Siegfried.

“She is simply beautiful. Just so beautiful. Simply wonderful, perfect.”

As the spotlights ignite, their scorching beams engulf you, causing you to shield your eyes with futile resistance. The sheer force of the light overwhelms your feeble defense. An ethereal audience erupts with exuberant cheers, applause, and whistles, resonating from vacant seats. Champagne flutes collide, men erupt with hearty laughter from their very core, and women unleash piercing screams akin to banshees.

The temperature rises and the noise intensifies, repeatedly, enveloping you in a symphony of overwhelming sensations.

Onlookers casually share their thoughts.

“Get off the stage, we want to see the play, not some stagehand!”

“Boo!”

“Fuck off!”

You run off crying.

“Where is that Odile girl?”

You run into a dressing room. One used by a woman wearing a black dress. She is so pretty. Her long strawberry blonde hair falls off her bare shoulders, clearly just done with a flat iron. There is a burning smell in the air. Smoke. When her gold eyes meet yours, she marches towards you and slams the door shut.

You can almost hear sobbing coming from the other side. Cries.

“So lonely…” The woman mutters. “When will it ever be enough?”

The voice sounds familiar. Her eyes. Her hair.

Nostalgia. Memories you would much rather forget. The basement. The imaginary ripping of clothes and tears and men’s laughter.

“I can’t do this much longer…”

Someone else knocks on her door. You want to scream.

“Come out, dearest.”

The devil. Tall with curved horns and a forked tongue. You want to warn her. 

You want to save her. “I’m not going to harm you, I am going to make you happy.”

You are so focused on whether the woman opens the door or not that you do not notice what happens next until it is too late. A clawed hand on your mouth. A tongue licking your ear. Tasting your sweat. Your tears. Laughter. The rest of the world disappears, and the only one there aside from you is the one behind you.

Sh… Sh… Sh… Sh… Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

Get off of me. Please.

“Breathe. It makes things more fun for me.” The voice echoed like you two are in a cave.

You gasp for air, and the smell of blood and oranges fills your nostrils.

“...Huff…”

“That’s better.”

You turn around. There is a body of a man. 

But the scaled, furred, horrifying face of a demon.

“Good.” He says, smiling his sharp teeth. “Deep breaths, in and out, come on.”

You do what he says. He praises you again, you think. But you can’t hear it. Either that or you simply do not pay attention to it. What happened to the woman? 

“...”

“We should go.”

The woman. The devil, this other… thing.

“...Rose…”

The demon laughs.

“Wake up.”

*~*~*~*

The first things you hear come from a happy man’s voice. “My boss’ girlfriend ran away more than a year ago you see, and he’s been heartbroken ever since. I want to prevent that kind of loss from happening to me. Real pretty one, too! He didn’t expect it, but I don’t blame her. After all, she’s been held captive for more than a year, she had to try to escape eventually.”

…The first thing you feel is lace on your neck. A collar.

It does not tickle or hurt. It itches. 

A cold hand plays with it, and it almost chokes you. At your discomfort, the man laughs.

“You are so cute.”

Something metal is on the collar, and it blinks a small red light.

[faketrex]

We have reached the end of these cakegate bodyswap shenanigans. I hope you enjoy this final part! The whole thing will be up on my AO3 page... eventually.

Thank you kindly for reading and liking and reblogging and making me smile in the tags!

...

SHARING A SLICE... part 6

RWRB, rated T, 1000 words (this part).

(click here for part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5)

...

After brunch, they visit Tower Bridge.

“Over there is the Tower of London.”

“That’s where they locked women up when they didn't pop out babies fast enough for the king, right?”

“Exactly right. Did you know they kept an elephant there, too?”

“What?”

“They fed it bread and wine. I'm sure you’ll be shocked to learn that it died.”

“Y’know, I almost feel like I should cut you some slack. All that inbreeding obviously messed up your brains.”

Henry smiles. It probably looks great to the paparazzi.

After Tower Bridge, it's the Tate Modern, followed by St Paul's Cathedral, Hyde Park, dinner, and then Kensington Palace again for the night.

Yeah, it's a stunt, and yeah, Alex doesn't really get to look at the art or visit the sites, and yeah, he has zero say about the itinerary, but it's not terrible. Henry's not awful company.

By the end of the day, Alex is exhausted. Henry seems just as tired. On the one hand, they’ve convinced the public they're best friends and maybe reached a personal truce. On the other hand, it's twenty-four hours post-caketastrophe and they're still in the wrong fucking bodies.

“We can't stall any longer.” He's watching Henry pace back and forth in front of the windows with the ugly-ass curtains. “I have to go back tomorrow. Well, I mean, you do. You as me.”

Henry doesn't respond.

“How long do you think it’ll take one of us to get arrested for spying? My money's on less than forty-eight hours.”

“I need ice cream,” Henry announces.

“Music to my ears. Lead the way.”

They settle on opposite sides of the kitchen island and eat their ice cream in a half-peaceful, half-melancholic silence.

“Despite the uncanny aspect of it all, I have to admit this hasn't been horrible,” Henry says eventually. “They don't often let me play tourist... and I never get to fabricate pseudo-historical nonsense for a mouthy American.”

Alex nearly fumbles his cone. “Wait, you made stuff up? When?”

Henry shrugs.

“Come on. It was the elephant, wasn't it? I knew there was no way–”

“I assure you, the elephant was real.” Henry taps on his phone and spins it so Alex can see. “He even has his own Wikipedia entry.”

“Elephant of Henry III,” Alex reads, bending closer. “What the fuck.”

The smug expression on Henry's face – Alex's face – and the way he licks his ice cream makes Alex's stomach flip over strangely. His neck feels hot. There's melted ice cream dripping onto his hand.

Without breaking eye contact, Alex slides his free hand over the countertop and rests it on top of Henry's.

“Hey, don't spook, okay?”

His words have the opposite effect. Henry's eyes widen and his shoulders tense like he's getting ready to bolt, but Alex just tightens his grip.

“Maybe... close your eyes?”

“Alex–”

“Suit yourself,” Alex murmurs. As he leans in, Henry takes a deep breath, then closes his eyes. There's a nervous crease between his brows. "Okay. Here goes nothing.”

He mashes what's left of his ice cream against Henry’s face.

“What the hell, Alex?”

So much for that idea.

“Shit. I was thinking maybe the ice cream... after the cake... and I was touching your skin, so...” It doesn't make as much sense out loud as it did in Alex's head.

“You don't–” Henry sputters.

“Listen, I honestly wasn't trying to get back at you for the tour guide shit, I hoped it would fix–”

“No, no, I was wrong, I thought you–”

“What?”

“Alex, don't...” Henry laughs under his breath and reaches out to flatten a sticky palm against Alex's cheek. “Don't spook, alright?”

Before Alex can complain about the mess, Henry brings their lips together in a soft, vanilla-flavored kiss. Alex's stomach flips over again. He closes his eyes. Like this, it's easy to forget he’s kissing himself – and it’s still Henry, isn’t it? It's Henry, kissing him. Henry, kissing Alex.

The kiss is cautious, like Henry's expecting rejection; Alex leans into it anyway. Henry's hand smears ice cream onto his face and the edge of the counter presses into his ribcage, painful, but he wants it. It's shocking how powerful the want is when he hadn't even noticed it before.

Alex slides one hand up Henry's cheek, into his soft hair, and feels – he opens his eyes.

“Well, fuck.” Have Henry's eyes always been so blue? They hadn't seemed that blue in the mirror. They're kind of beautiful.

“Hello,” Henry says. “I'm back? You're back. Are you?”

“I guess. When did you come up with that plan?”

“I – plan?”

“You figured it out? Curse-breaking kisses or something? Wasn't that–” Alex stops. Henry hasn't pulled back from his awkward lean across the counter. From bizarre-but-true personal experience of less than sixty seconds ago, Alex knows for a fact that it's an uncomfortable position.

“If you'd like, I could pretend that it was part of a plan,” Henry offers quietly. “I've got plenty of experience pretending.”

If it's not the truth, though, Alex doesn’t want it. “Nah, no need. Don't get me wrong, it's weird if you don't want any credit for getting us back to normal again, but whatever.”

Henry's incredulous laugh makes Alex feel like kissing him again. “Covered in ice cream is normal for you?”

“Hey, chill. We're having a fucking moment.”

“A fucking moment, truly,” Henry echoes, mocking, but his smile is wide and happy.

“I'm not used to being covered in cake, trading bodies, being covered in ice cream, or kissing princes.”

“No?”

“But I've been branching out lately. Expanding my horizons, y’know.”

“I see. And now you know what to do if any one of those things happens again, I suppose?” Henry squeezes Alex's hand where they're still twined together.

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, squeezing back and leaning in. They've got more to figure out here, but right now it's his turn. Henry kissed him, so now he needs to try it for himself. Simple. “Let me show you. It's a piece of cake.”

...

[maraschinomerry]

Hi! Ive really enjoyed your Lockwood and Co fic’s so far, especially how you incorporate gn-readers! As for a prompt to give: A George Karin X GN Reader fic where George works himself sick on researching a case and no one else really notices he’s sick other than Reader, and Reader makes him stop and takes care of him for the night. A quote to go along with this maybe: “No one ever cared about me like you.” There’s really not enough George fics out there, so thank you for rectifying that!

Chicken Soup

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader

Content: literally just 99% fluff, the other 1% is reader misunderstanding when George tries to confess his feelings

A/N: this fic takes me to less than 1000 words off having posted 30,000 words in 4 weeks 🤯 will have to see if I can post another later!

Word count: 2.1k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear

George looked tired.

He usually looked at least a little worn out, so you weren't overly surprised, but this time it was more distinctive. Plus, his exhaustion was always paradoxically frantic, brought about by rushing to prepare for a case that needed solving yesterday, but this time Lockwood had specifically said nobody was going anywhere near the site until you and George were confident there was no more research to be done. You'd hoped that would mean George would take his time, but it seemed his brain had forgotten how to function in any way that wasn't cramming 3 days' worth of research into 3 hours.

"Let's call it a day," you prompted. The two of you had been glued to your seats around a stack of papers in the Archives all day and your back was getting horrendously stiff. George couldn't be faring much better, hunched so far over his book he practically disappeared into his orange plaid shirt.

"You head back, I just need a bit longer to finish off," he replied, not even glancing up. Under normal circumstances, you'd be able to use his frustration at the impossible deadline to lure him away, but what on earth were you supposed to say when it was self-inflicted?

"Are you sure? Lockwood did say to take as long as we need, so it can wait until morning."

George looked up then, only to shake his head. You knew what he was thinking: by tomorrow, the book he needed could have been borrowed by someone else; by tomorrow, Kipps' crew could have swanned in and solved the whole case; by tomorrow, there may not be anyone at the site left to employ them. You sighed.

"Sorry, I know it's a pain. Will you be okay getting home alone?" Trust him to be worrying about you when you were worrying about him. You assured him you'd be fine, and promised to have a cup of tea ready when he got home.

"You're the best," he said with a weary smile. Secretly he didn't want you to leave, he enjoyed your company, but it was unfair to make you stay just because he wanted to. As you walked away, you heard him sniff, which built into a sneeze. Hmm.

—

Less than ten minutes after you returned to Portland Row, the heavens opened. Rain hammered against the front door like it was begging to be let in, and wind whistled through every corner it could find from the attic downwards. 

You, Lucy and Lockwood sat around the dining table, soaking in every ounce of the warmth that seeped from the oven while dinner cooked (a steak pie you'd made when you got back, to distract yourself from the anxious knot in your stomach).

"How did it go at the Archives?" Lucy asked over a steaming cup of coffee.

"We're making progress, but I'm worried George is overworking himself."

Lockwood gave a wry chuckle. "Trust me, if George has a limit, I haven't seen him hit it in all the time I've known him."

That wasn't overly convincing - having bursts of intense hard work followed by a couple of days to recover was one thing, but working flat out for this long was another, especially when you knew from hearing the way the house shifted that he hadn't been sleeping.

"He was sneezing when I left," you pointed out. If Lockwood knew him so well, he'd know he wasn't much of a sneezer, even in the height of pollen season.

"This case dates back decades," Lucy countered. "Imagine how much dust is on some of those files." Just thinking about it made her nose crinkle. You could only hope they were both right.

—

A long-cold cup of tea and the remaining quarter of the pie awaited George when he returned, the last embers of daylight being snuffed out by the heavy rainclouds above. The second the key rattled in the front door, you sprang from where you'd been falling asleep on the Thinking Cloth and clicked the kettle on.

"You didn't wait up for me, did you?" George croaked from the kitchen doorway. Something had happened to his voice in the hours since you'd left him.

"I promised you tea!" As you turned in mock outrage you noticed something else wrong. He was shivering and pale. Instinctively, you stepped closer, brushing a hand across the droplets on his shoulders and spotting more in his hair. Had he walked home in this weather? No. There wasn't enough water for that. This was just from the cab to the door. He wasn't shivering from the cold. You suddenly remembered the sneeze earlier.

George was ill.

This was a disaster, and it was all your fault. You should have forced him to come home with you. Should have noticed sooner and never let him out today in the first place.

"Oh Georgie," you murmured, almost as much to yourself as him. "Give me one minute with that tea and then you need to get to bed."

"I'm f-fine," he stammered around chattering teeth. "It's nothing."

As if he'd been summoned as backup, Lockwood sauntered in on his way to the basement. "Glad to see you missed the rain," he joked. George gave another sneeze, a spray of said rain flying from his curls with the force of it. "Bathroom's free if you want a bath to warm up." Misguided as Lockwood was in his reason for the advice, it wasn't a bad idea actually.

"I'm just heading up," you shot him a grateful look before George could object, "I can set it running." Lockwood grinned and disappeared. Today was not one of his observant days, it seemed.

"I can run my own bath," George grumbled, still in the doorway, but his cheeks flushed a little and he made no move to stop you. Probably because his hands were shaking so much he would have struggled to even turn the taps. You took his freshly brewed tea in one hand and his arm in the other and guided him to the library to cosy up until the bath was ready.

—

Half an hour later, you were debating whether to go and make sure George hadn't fallen asleep in the tub when he emerged. His dark curls were damp yet fluffy from the towel, a slight glow had returned to his skin and he was dressed in the clean pyjamas you'd looked out for him. He frowned at you as best his tired muscles would allow, pondering the fact you'd clearly spent the entire time sitting on the bottom step outside the bathroom. Before he could comment, however, the warmth of the bath began to wear off and the tremble returned to his bones. You reached behind you and sheepishly held out a fuzzy forest green bundle.

"I, um… I couldn't find any of your jumpers, I think they're all in the wash, so you can borrow this one. It should fit."

George took hold of it and unfolded what turned out to be the softest hoodie he'd ever felt in his life. He wriggled into it, his one working nostril breathing in the way the smell of you lingered in the fabric. It was so comfy that he found himself burrowing into it, bringing it up under his chin and tucking his hands into the sleeves.

You caught yourself staring at him, marvelling over how he could look so adorable in such an unfortunate situation, and gave him a soft smile. "Better?"

He nodded and mumbled out a "thanks" which ended up somewhat drowned in the hoodie as he shuffled away. Halfway through his bedroom door, he stopped and turned back to you. "What's that?"

You went to see what he was referring to, hands on his shoulders to support yourself as you pressed close on tiptoes to peer past him. Suddenly very aware of how close you were, you focused your attention on the flask on his bedside table.

"Oh. It's chicken soup. I wasn't sure if you'd want it just yet, so I used a flask which should keep it warm for the next few hours."

If you hadn't been aware of how much you were in George's personal space before, you certainly were now as he practically melted against you.

"That's so thoughtful." He sounded shocked. Not at you being thoughtful towards him, at anyone being so. Unsure of what to say, you gave his shoulders a supportive squeeze and then used them to steer him towards his bed.

His room was a little chilly, so you checked that his window was properly closed before drawing the curtains. George, energy almost completely drained, flopped onto the bed. You helped him tuck his legs under the duvet,  bringing it up around his chest. He sniffled again, and without a word you nudged the box of tissues you'd found and set out for him. His eyes grew wide and incredulous, suddenly scrunching shut with another bout of sneezing.

"Do you need anything else?"

The sneezing paused. "I think I left my book in the library…"

"Georgie, no." Your voice became stern even as you used his nickname affectionately. "No more research until you're feeling better." He began to protest. "Think about it. The more you rest, the sooner you'll recover and the quicker you can get back to it." He couldn't argue with logic, and you both knew it.

You ended up fetching him a glass of water, some paracetamol and a couple of contraband biscuits. When you returned, you found him sipping the soup, and his face lit up at your last offering.

"You're too nice," he sighed, insisting on splitting the first biscuit with you. "I love you."

You almost choked on your half of the biscuit, bursting into a coughing fit you'd expect from the actual ill person in the room. George immediately rose from the pillows to pat your back as you tried to remember how to breathe. "Are you okay?" His hand stopped patting as your coughing subsided but it didn't leave your back, instead rubbing gentle circles.

"I…" you spluttered, finally dislodging the rogue crumb. "Do you really mean that?"

"Of course I do! No one ever cared about me like you."

His words were kind, tender, yet your heart still sank. He'd just said it because you were looking after him. You couldn't believe you'd actually thought for a moment that he loved you. There was nothing more you wanted than for the ground to swallow you up, but when George kept talking you stayed and listened. "Lockwood and Lucy do so much for me, don't get me wrong, and my parents did their best, but I'd be lost without you. I mean, all this…" he gestured around at the flask, the hoodie, you still sitting on his bed,  "nobody else even noticed there was anything wrong. But you did. You see me, and I love you for it."

Tears welled in your eyes. You blinked them away, refusing to obscure your view of the beautiful boy beside you. His hand stilled on your back, twitching away, afraid he'd said the wrong thing. You leaned into his side, strengthening the touch. "I love you too."

His eyelids fluttered, a mixture of exhaustion and adoration. His free hand linked with yours. "Remind me to kiss you once I'm better."

"Why can't you kiss me now?"

"Because I'll make you ill, if I haven't already!"

"I'll take that risk." You leaned in.

"Nooo," he whined, a hand on your chest to keep you at a distance, "I'd feel bad. But lucky for you, I have a fantastic doctor, so I'll be better in no time."

"Oh yes, I hear they're exceptional and very committed. Now lie down."

George did as he was told, gasping at the rush of cold air as the duvet was lifted behind him. You eased yourself into the bed, legs tangling in his and pulling you closer until his back leant against your chest and your face was buried in his hair.

"What did I just say?!"

You shushed him. "It's fine, if I catch it you can look after me." You pressed a kiss to his temple as you reached over to click the lamp off. He groaned in the darkness.

"You're impossible."

"You love me, though."

His hand found yours again, bringing your arm to wrap round his stomach. Your fingers traced the warm, soft skin underneath the hem of your hoodie. He sighed contentedly, the rise and fall of your chest behind him lulling him closer to sleep. "I do."

You sneezed.

Damn it.

[skellebonez]

Hmmm how about MK and Monkie King with number 1 and number 45

I wanted to write a follow up to a certain fill that got some wonderful art recently too! But then the finale happened and now I made it depressing, sorry. Spoilers for... everything as this is set 3 days after the final episode. This also plays around with the “Sun Wukong is still super immortal and powerful but...” and other theories. (second prompt line is only used as inspiration in fill)

Do not give me that look./ You may technically be an adult, but you’re still my child.

The moment MK's curse was lifted and he was re-aged from 4 years old to adult Wukong acted like nothing had happened at all. No understanding conversations about how his powers could hurt him, no cooking together, no video games, and no accidental couch naps. It was as if the entire day had been undone to the sands of time.

But MK remembered and when the literal next day Wukong announced he was going on vacation... let's just say he was not happy in the slightest. He had tried to voice his objections, citing the Spider Queen as a prime example for why they should be worried, but the immortal monkey just flashed him dual thumbs up with a “Monkey King Out!” and flashed off somewhere MK couldn’t follow.

And now he was back and while MK had been more than happy to get going at first, to push everything that happened deep down inside him and ignore it for as long as possible (why was he doing that, he needed to stop doing that, look where that got them he was a mistake a bad choice as a successor and now he’s barely a successor at all) there was only so long he could go before it became clear there was more wrong than what Sun Wukong was telling him.

There was more wrong with Sun Wukong himself that he refused to admit.

He tried to hide it as well as he could. Despite the heat outside and the fur covering his body he still wore full body clothing. Hiding away the gashes and healing scars that riddled his form now. There was a nick in his eyebrow that had never gone away, and when MK watched closely he could see his mentor sometimes place his hand too far to the left when grabbing something. He walked with a slight limp, though that had improved over the last few days.

And he was quiet. Yes, when someone was addressing him he was “yeah totally, we got this fam, onward westward!”, but when MK caught him alone... especially outside on the deck of the drone, watching the horizon, he was more quiet and still than the Monkie Kid had ever seen him before.

Or maybe he was always like this and now Wukong was too hurt or distracted enough or just didn’t care anymore that MK was finally seeing him.

It was hard to tell with how distant he had been the last three days. Distant in the same way the day after the curse was lifted, but quieter.

“We need to talk,” He said from behind his mentor, watching as Wukong’s tail jumped only a little. Maybe that was just surprise at the words themselves. “Alone. Please.”

He expected Wukong to brush him off, to say “aw bud, can’t it wait? look at the sunset!” despite the sun having set so far they barely had any light left or something else. But instead he straightened up (MK heard the slight crack of his back again, much softer than when he had first heard it after their crash landing, and he wondered how much his back had healed from whatever injury it had) and turned to his student with an odd expression. Somewhat soft and fond and somewhat worried and resigned. Like this was more than just 3 days coming (and it was).

“Let’s... get something to eat first, alright?”

MK didn’t mention that they had eaten just over an hour ago.

~

They sat in the kitchen of the drone, alone under the dimmed lights with cups of tea and sliced fruit between them (mostly for Wukong). Neither had said anything as they prepared the small snack, and neither said anything as they sat down and took sips of their tea.

MK had made it slightly too strong.

“What did you want to ask first?” Wukong started off, picking up a peach slice and biting into it carefully. Slowly. This was something else that was noticed. Before when eating the Monkey King would just shove whatever he was eating in his mouth and MK wasn't certain he tasted it. But now it was like he was trying to make every meal last as long as possible. “There’s... a lot. I can tell.”

“We spent an entire day together and then you left without telling me anything,” MK said firmly, gripping the tea cup in his hands. He squeezed harder, just to see what would happen. It should have shattered... it didn’t. “Why didn’t you just... say something?”

“... I thought I was protecting you,” Wukong admitted honestly, taking another bite of peach. “And the city, the others...  That if I acted distant you wouldn’t wonder where I went a-”

“Wouldn’t wonder wh- no!” MK interrupted, gritting his teeth. “No, Monkey K- Wukong.” The change in how MK addressed him made Wukong jolt, looking at him with wide eyes. He had never called him by his name before now. “We spent an entire day together. You took care of me, helped me when my powers went haywire, helped me make food! You never treated me like that before! You treated me like... Like I was...”

“My kid,” Wukong finished for him, now looking down into his tea cup. “MK... You’re an adult, I know that, but somewhere down the line I started to think of you as... I didn’t know till then I guess, and that terrified me. The idea of you getting hurt that day was the only thing that compared to admitting I got attached to you as more than just my student.”

Had this revelation come sooner MK might have been more surprised. More disbelieving. But after that day and everything that happened once the curse was gone...

“... you have a funny way of showing it,” MK snapped without thinking, eyes widening and jolting upright when he realized what he had said. “I-”

“Don’t,” Wukong said with a shake of his head, sipping his tea with a sigh. “You deserve to be angry with me. I talked to, uh... Pigsy? Sandy too. Tang.... Mei. Your boss in particular laid into me pretty hard after the excitement died down... Don’t know how I went 1000 years without knowing what a ‘lie by omission’ was.”

“... you abandoned me.”

“Yes... I didn’t mean it that way, but that doesn’t change that I did.”

“You didn’t trust me.”

“NO.” Wukong said firmly, voice raised for the first time in days. MK glowered at him. “No, that is one thing I will not back down on. Yes, I lied to you and left you behind and that was a mistake I will need to make up for over a long time, but it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you. I trusted you to take care of yourself, to teach yourself the lessons I left behind, and take care of the city. And you did! You did so much better than I even hoped for, and I hoped so badly that you would do as well as you did! I didn’t leave you there because I didn’t trust you, I left you there because I did... and because I thought I had to do everything myself...” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “I’ve been alone so long... I forgot I could do things with help on my end, I guess...”

“If... If Lady Bone Demon hadn’t finished what she was doing...?”

“Had the Lady Bone Demon not been working faster than I thought she was I would have come back with nothing less than even more trust in you as my successor.”

“... am I even still your successor without...?” MK trailed off, trying to keep his voice level. The tea cup still held strong.

“Yes,” Wukong assured, reaching out to put a hand on MK’s shoulder. MK noticed how he almost missed and corrected his hand. “The staff and my powers alone didn’t make you my successor. I picked you before those, remember? You’re still the Monkie Kid, MK. Nothing is going to change that for me.”

The young man went quiet for a moment, taking a shaky breath. He wanted to ask why he was chosen, what made him so special... but there would be time for that in the future. For now he had gotten at least some of his questions answered. But there was something much more pressing to touch on.

“,,, you’ve been lying to all of us,” he accused suddenly, reaching up and grabbing the wrist of Wukong’s hand on his shoulder before he could pull back. He looked his mentor in the face, watching as Wukong’s eyes widened in realization and horror. “Do not give me that look. Stop... please, stop lying. I’m not stupid, I can see you’re still hurt bad. You’re supposed to be invincible but you came back hurt and... and almost nothing can hurt you!”

Wukong didn’t meet MK’s gaze, looking down at their snack as he breathed heavily and shakily. He knew he was caught, that much was obvious.

“Please... talk to me, for once. I know I do the same thing, I lied to everyone else by not telling them about LBD or the calabash or Macaque coming back-” Wukong tensed at that, an odd sound escaping his throat. “-and look where it got us. We both need to talk. To everyone else. To each other.”

Wukong’s arm was shaking where MK held it, but he didn’t try to pull it back. Not until MK let it go. He sat back down, looking at the table like it held all the secrets of the universe before bringing his hand up to cover his eye. The one with the nicked eyebrow.

“Bud...” Wukong started, biting his lip. There was something wrong in his tone. “I... you were going to find out eventually. I can’t keep this up forever, not like Macaque can.” MK tensed at the mention of the other immortal monkey, watching as Wukong did not move his hand. “This takes a lot of focus. And... with my invincibility partly gone-”

“What?” MK asked, so soft he thought Wukong hadn’t heard him.

“... You didn’t get my powers from the staff, MK,” Wukong said. “And they don’t just duplicate. That’s not how they work. From day one I have been... siphoning my powers to you. Bit by bit. As you got better at controlling them I would give you more until I felt I didn’t need them myself anymore. When I locked away your invincibility I just undid what I had given you and slowed down the transfer... you’d been half invincible for weeks.”

“No...” MK started, slowly realizing what Wukong was implying. “No, no you’re lying again! This is a terrible, horrible prank!” Despite wanting to be quiet before MK found himself yelling. “Say you’re still lying!”

“No,” Wukong shook his head, looking down at the scar on his arm that was now visible as his sleeve had slipped down. “Most of this will probably heal eventually, except maybe one thing, and I’m still immortal! There’s no undoing that no matter what I do. I’m not dying any time soon. But my transformations? Cloning? My cloud...” He trailed off at that, breaking in a shaky breath. “You didn’t even get to use that... Lady Bone Demon took all of it when she took it from you. I still have some powers, some of my transformations and hair stuff and some invincibility... but I’m not the same overpowered Monkey King you met when you freed DBK...”

And as he trailed off, Wukong lowered his hand. Something flickered, something familiar. Too familiar. Reminiscent of Macaque’s shadows but brighter. And after there was something else reminiscent. In reverse.

MK had only seen it for a split second, when all of Macaque’s glamor magic had dropped. The milky white right eye and the scar over it that was left behind from his battle with Wukong 500 years ago.

And now Wukong looked at him with a similarly white left eye, a similar scar that wasn’t just a nicked eyebrow running down his face.

It makes sense in retrospect, much more. MK supposed that when you lose an eye you lose depth perception and it takes a while to get used to judging where things are.

“... what happened before you came in to save me?” MK asked quietly, watching as more of the glamor fell with a curse from Wukong. There was another nick on his cheek that was still healing, a piece of one of his ears had been ripped off too. No doubt there were more injuries under his clothes that Wukong hadn’t let anyone see.

“She has Macaque under her control,” Wukong said plainly, groaning as he held his head. “Damn, that... letting that down...” He groaned again and before MK could realize what was happening Wukong’s eyes rolled back into his head and he slipped from his chair to the floor.

“WUKONG!” MK shot up, rushing over to his side and yelling over his shoulder in the hopes someone would hear. “Pigsy! D-DADSY! Help, SOMETHING’S WRONG!”

When Pigsy rushed in with the others in tow Wukong hadn't regained consciousness.

[descendantofthesparrow]

Before Rewrite - Hades

*Spoilers for D3 rewrite~!!!! takes place from when Hades gets to the isle to the scene where Mal takes the ember from Hades!*

=

Hades cursed the rulers of Auradon every hour of every day for putting him on this wretched isle of filth and trash. He was a god! The god of the undead, the underworld! He was a crucial player in the mortal's circle of life; without him, there would be no place for souls to go, Thanatos would harvest them but with no one to claim them; they would wander around the lands forever.

He could already sense the disturbed souls, miserably watching their families walk by, or through them. All alone with no one to turn to and nowhere to go.

He had only been here for two weeks and he was already sick of it; he may have never liked it but his job was important and he needed to get back to work

-

Two weeks and four days…that's all it took for the gods to replace him. He didn’t know who it was but they seemed to know what they were doing, claiming souls so fast Hades could hardly sense when one had left the mortal world to live in the underworld.

Hades perked up at the sound of crying

Oh, Hadie.

He turned on his heel and speed over to the makeshift crib of his son, rubbing the top of his fuzzy blue hair and picking him up; gently rocking him as Hadie continued to cry, Hades didn’t know from what but he would try to find out.

-

Like the little god he was, Hadie unexpectedly thrived on the barren isle of the lost; with what little food he got and with little sun, Hadie grew quickly and strong. At four years old he was already growing into his namesake; though Hades couldn’t ever resist being a dad over his little gap tooth in the middle of his teeth.

Hades just wished Persephone could see Hadie grow, and Hades wished he could see his little flower, Melinoe, grow into the headstrong warrior she was meant to be.

-

Whaaaaaaaat the fuck did he do….what in the actual fuck did he DO?!

He had stupidly gotten black out drunk at Gaston’s bar and somehow ended up with Maleficent! Of all people on the isle?! No-not out of all people, just with someone in general!?

He had prided himself in being the most loyal husband of his brothers, Zeus who had slept with a woman every time Hera blinked, and Poseidon; who wasn’t any better.

Hades had always been loyal and true to his wife…well there were those two times BUT compared to his brothers; he was loyal.

AND NOW HE HAD TO GO AND FUCK UP THAT STREAK; over 1000 years, 1000 years! And some bad whiskey had to ruin it.

He left that bed without a word, rushing home to his 4-year-old son who luckily hadn’t woken up yet from his sleep; and Hades swore if nothing came from that mistake, Hadie would never know about it.

-

Welp…that was something that came from the mistake. 11 months after the incident with Maleficent-

-There, right in front of his gates to his underground lair; was a little baby girl, halfheartedly swaddled in a green blanket and set at his gate, a little note taped to the front.

‘your problem now -M’

Hades leaned out of the gates, looking around for any goblins or any sign of the mistress of evil herself. But there was nothing. Hades sighed and crouched down, gently picking up the baby girl and holding him to his chest, her cries quieting as her cheek pressed against the fabric of his shirt.

She opened her eyes, vivid green with sparks of gold and yellow. She laughed, reaching up to his hair with a gummy smile. Hades sighed again and turned on his heel, closing the gate with his foot.

At least he got another chance at raising his daughter, and he would do his best to do as he would’ve with Melinoe.

-

Hadie had asked a billion questions when Hades placed the new baby in Hades old crib, leaning over and peering down at his little sister. Hades had explained it the best way he knew how to a child; but Hadie miraculously understood, didn’t blame him. All he did was reach down towards his sister and grin as the baby took his finger.

“I like her! Are we keeping her?” Hadie had asked, his gap tooth making his little grin seem even bigger.

“she's not a dog Hadie, but yes that’s the plan. I don’t think her mother’s coming back.” Hades rubbed Hadie’s fluffy blue hair and then reached out to rub his daughter's bluish-purple hair gently, her two-month-old hair curling around his fingers.

“What's her name?” Hadie continued to babble off questions, his yellow eyes staring directly into his sister's emerald eyes.

Hades thought for a moment, pursing his lips as he looked at the note and turned it over. Nothing other than Maleficent's writing and initial. Either the fae hadn’t given the baby a name or didn’t care enough to tell him.

“Morana“ the pagan Slavic goddess of winter and death; he had met or once or twice, not enough to know her but the name matched the baby girl before him well enough. (in this world, gods of all religions/beliefs exist in the same universe, they usually keep to themselves and rarely interact.)

Hadie repeated the name, pulling his finger around with Morana still holding onto him. “I like it!”

-

Three months later, Maleficent returned and took Morana from him; not even letting him give her a damn thing to remember him by. “I need an heir, that evil queens been bragging about her little rat and I won't let her get the upper hand with it” Hadie watched from behind Hades legs as the fae walked away with his little sister, her blue-purple hair stark against the black of Maleficent's sleeves.

Morana cried the entire time, reaching out for her father with tears streaming from her sparking yellow-green eyes, her face red with the flurry of confusing emotions she was feeling.

Hades took a step forward, going to take his daughter back but was stopped by Maleficent's goons, all glaring at him.

He was outmatched.

He stepped back, glaring at Maleficent's back as she took back their daughter she had abandoned so heartlessly three months ago.

-

Mal. That was her name now. He had heard many talk about the newly revealed daughter of evil; the daughter of Maleficent. Mal.

Hades clicked his jaw at the thought of her name, Maleficent had been shellfish and named her own daughter right after her; Hades would bet his stash of chocolate that Mal’s full name was just Maleficent.

At least Hades had been original.

-

Throughout the next couple of years, as Mora-Mal. Grew up, Hades kept out an eye on her; just out of sight from her and just barely stepping in if any of the older people of the isle, who had…less than ideal moral compasses, got any ideas about his daughter.

A few times he tried to go up to her, but each time she saw him she either ran away in fear, or stared him down with no spark of familiar want or recognition.

So he kept away, respecting her non-verbal wishes and leaving Mal to herself.

It didn’t stop him from trying to keep her safe. He left her food on the nights Maleficent or her goons forgot, never charged her when she came into his restaurant, was never harsh with her. Some of the other villains got curious at his gentleness with Mal but quickly shut up with a spark of red in his eyes. He might’ve lost his magic but he was still a god.

-

Hades watched from the shadows as Mal and her three ‘friends’ climbed into the limo, the son of Hook and son of Gaston climbing in alongside them. Mal looked up at Maleficent, who did an odd gesture and Mal nodded, sliding in and closing the limo door behind her.

He followed the limo all the way to the bridge, watching his daughter leave the isle for the first time and go to Auradon. If she didn’t end up burning it down; he hoped she would have a good life away from her mother.

-

Over three years later, his son was chosen to go the Auradon by his sister, and Hades watched melancholy as Hadie packed his things; fiddling with the dull ember between his fingers. Hadie hefted his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his duffle bag, nodding at his dad; who stood and walked over to his son “stay safe” Hades muttered, pulling Hadie in for a side hug, his hand resting on the back of Hadie’s head. “say hi to your mother and sister for me?” Hadie nodded against him, using his free arm to squeeze Hades back, and turned on his heel, walking out of the mines.

-

Only an hour later Hades stood at the bridge plaza, ember in hand; pointing it at his daughter, who cried out in pain against the embers draining powers. He pulled back as much as he could, he needed to get out; he just couldn't do it anymore, the isle was hell and he needed to leave.

Mal screamed in pain again and Hades faltered, remembering her cries for him when Maleficent took her oh so long ago. But the girl besides Hook took his falter and rushed at him, slamming him back behind the barrier and walking back through it a moment later.

Hades growled to himself, he had failed his attempted escape and hurt his kid. He stood and walked away from the plaza, planning to stay in his lair for the rest of the week in shame.

-

It was just the next day when he saw his kids again, Hadie and Celia standing in front of him; giving the excuse of a forgotten bass and some delivered goods. But Mal wasn’t as quiet as she should've been, he grabbed her hand just as she grabbed the ember and pulled it from her grip, staring her down behind his sunglasses.

She meekly asked for the ember multiple times, and on the third time, he raised his brow, holding up the ember in the air as he looked down at his daughter “You’re only half Hades, the ember won't do everything for you that it does for me” Mal huffed and gestured to Hadie.

“Hadie’s gonna be the one to use it anyway, I just wanted-to…” Mal looked up at him wide-eyed and shocked, and Hades had a startling realization that Mal might have not known about him at all.

After a few minutes of Mal screeching about her mother’s lies and her not being able to understand how ‘she’ happened, she demanded the ember once more “if you wanna make up for being a lousy dad” ouch that stung, he didn’t mean to be one; he just was forced into that position “gimme the ember”

Hades gave Mal the ember and watched her walk out, sighing sadly as he realized he could’ve been there for Mal a long time ago if not for his stupid assumption. He warned her about the ember getting wet and she just pushed past him, Hadie sharing one last glance with him before following after her.

Hades sighed, collapsing back in his minecart turned chair and leaning his head back. So much for respecting her wishes as a child, she hadn’t even known he existed as her dad.

-end-

people who i want to read this cuz ahhhh ya know? 

@disneyfan50​

permtaglist!

@queer-cosette​ @sephiralorange​ @lunanight2012​

@daughter-of-the-stars11​ @musicarose​ @random-thoughts-003​

@remembered-license​ @imtryingthisout​ @rintheemolion​

@thecaptainsgingersnap​ @jatp-rules-my-life​ @verboetoperee​

@saryguerrero​

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

The Warden's Notes [10110]

TW: Mentions of Murder, Unsettling Themes, Terminal Illness, Descriptions of Insanity

Notes: Going more into detail with these guys...

Recommended to read this after [Chapter 3]

Word Count: 2.9K

(2/?) [Previous] | [Next]

[Main Masterlist] | [Zemblanity Masterlist]

Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

[10110] - Liu Yangyang

Timeline: K-09

Crime: Murder of the 2nd Degree, Opened a Written Letter containing both a letter and a flyer for the treatment of an otherwise terminal illness from a future correspondent

Sentence Duration: 15 March 2721 - Lifetime

Cell: Concrete Room (02 - 10110)

Special Containment Condition(s):

Keep entertained, he causes less problems.

Keep far away from Inmate 1000.

If all else fails, call Inmate 1011, he always listens to him.

Monthly Observations:

(3/15/2721) Another day, another inmate. The detectives who brought him in told me to keep him locked up, and to never let him out. Strange, I know what he’s in here for, really, but this is a bit much, isn’t it? I looked over what I had of his file and, as much as I hate to say it, i sympathize with him. He seems like a decent kid… Kid, yeah, he looks around the same age as (Y/N), actually. He keeps to himself, doesn't say much. We'll have to see how our interrogation goes.

(4/2/2721) Moonsight. The kid has moonsight. I saw it in our interrogation, the beginning stages, he shouldn't have gotten it so soon though. He's going to face a slow and painful death now and I don't know how to break it to him. I didn't think he was too rowdy at first, until 1011 fucking murdered someone in the cafeteria, turns out 10110 had a field day with that one. It was like a switch flipped for him, suddenly he was instigating an entire fight and... god, it was a domino effect of bull shit. I guess it's technically not his fault, but this piece of shit almost killed an inmate himself. The weirdest part? As soon as I walked in, he stopped. He stopped and said that 1011 started it. Doesn't matter, no free hours for the next week for him. Is it the moonsight?

(5/5/2721) It has come to my attention that 10110 has an interesting hobby of stealing things. Just earlier he tried to swipe (Y/N)'s locket from my pocket, she would've gotten so upset about that. She treasures this locket like it was a part of her. When I explained that to 10110 to get it back, all he did was glare at me before returning it. I also ended up finding all three of Officer Suh's badges that he'd lost. Note to self, check 10110's cell first before ordering a new badge, this could be a serious breach of security. Moonsight is coming along at a slow pace, but as more of the blonde hairs appear, I get more anxious.

(6/7/2721) I was talking to Dr. Kim Kibum earlier, inmate 10110′s main psychiatrist, he recommended for me to provide some other form of entertainment for the inmate, supposed to distract him from developing anything too severe while he sits in his room and, hopefully, slow the effects of Moonsight. This is probably to avoid repeating what happened to 1011, so I did just that. I asked 10110 what kinds of things he's interested in, then I ended up ordering cans of spray paint and markers and left them in his cell. I was surprised to see all the things he drew, but I was more concerned about the many times he repeated my daughter’s name. Maybe it's just my old eyes, there's no way he could know that. I hope it's not just the denial, but some of his drawings are... concerning.

(7/8/2721) Last month we admitted inmate 1000 into the Sector. Both of us learned very quickly that 10110 literally hates him. As soon as 10110 saw 1000 he jumped at him. Mind you, this was in the cafeteria, the kid grabbed a tray and bashed it over 1000's head twenty times. It took me and 1011 to pull him off, and even then, we had to call in Officer Lee and Officer Suh to properly restrain him. Up until this point, 10110 had been pretty mild save for the even with 1011 killing someone, but never did I expect him to lash out like that. 1000 says he's fine, maybe a little shaken, but still. Note to self, keep these two far away from each other. The moonsight is undeniable now, I've ordered hair dye for him at his request, when the moonsight episodes finally end and he relaxes again he's still the same scared kid who came in. He doesn't want anyone to know.

(8/2/2721) This kid… I know it's the moonsight, but fuck what’s up with him? I just can't believe the illness got him so quickly. He's having an episode right now, won't do much and won't cause trouble at least. I don’t understand him at all. Some days he just spouts nonstop bullshit, asking me about shit I don't even remember. Can't blame him, maybe we did know each other in his last timeline or something, but he has to understand that we're not the same. Just today, he walked up to my office during Free Hours with a huge smile on his face and asked me if I was planning anything important. I was, (Y/N)'s birthday, actually. I always seem to be busy on that day so I planned ahead for once. Then, and this freaked me out a little, he told me to get (Y/N) Mariogold flowers for her birthday. How did he even know I was planning for it? I'll have to double-check the locks in this office.

(9/6/2721) Inmate 10110 keeps talking about her… it’s scaring the hell out of me. How do these inmates know about (Y/N)? I don’t let her anywhere near this damn place, I'm too scared that she's going to hear something and get curious and come in here. Her curiosity will be the death of her, I swear, Ten's having a hard enough time keeping her busy. Shit, I should revise this, 10110's telling me things about her. Her favorite color, her favorite food, favorite book, everything. And when I go back home to her and ask her about these things… it turns out he’s right. Maybe my theory that he knew us in his timeline is right, but it's interesting how these things carry over. I need to ask him how he knows us. My main concern is that one or both of us have something to do with his crime.

(10/15/2721) Inmate 10110 has been acting out so much more lately, lashing out at the other inmates and whatnot. We've long established that he hates inmate 1000, to an unhealthy degree actually, I was watching them through the cameras and the first thing I saw was 10110 hurling a syringe towards 1000. Note to self, remind nurses to keep sharp objects locked. I removed inmate 10110′s free hours for the month. I can’t risk any of the other inmates possibly getting killed by him, it’s not safe for them or for myself. Ever since 1000 got admitted here, 10110 has gotten more and more dangerous. It's like he has no care in the world. Not to mention the kid can be fucking unhinged sometimes, I think he made Officer Lee cry, for god's sake. Really knows where to hit it where it hurts.

(11/5/2721) I had to break up a fight between inmate 10110 and inmate 1000 again. I just don’t understand why they hate each other, when I talk to 10110 he’s always so cryptic about it, mumbling something along the lines of ‘he hurt her’ but what the blazes is that supposed to mean? 1000 has no clue either, I questioned him about it. This kid might be the death of me. He keeps finding different ways into the office, this is the one place I'm supposed to be safe from these fuckers, and this kid keeps finding a way in. No matter how often I change the locks, he finds a way in. It's only a matter of time before he finds a way out. 10110's much smarter than he lets on, apparently.

(12/8/2721) Inmate 1000 almost killed 10110. I was monitoring in my office when 10110 broke a glass bottle next to 1000 (Note to self, change supplier, glass bottles are too dangerous, metal bottles are the only other alternative that will last long enough and in this pressure). I don’t even know how he got the bottle, it should have been locked in the mess hall. But, interestingly enough, was the fact that 1000 reacted this way at all. Up until now, he'd been defensive (understandably so) around 10110, but this was the first time I saw him react this way and, of course, 10110 responded in kind. At this rate, it's like 10110 is purposefully looking for a reason to kill 1000.

(1/1/2722) This month was strange for Inmate 10110. I’ve seen his depressive episodes before, but they’ve never lasted this long. He's been like this for two weeks now, and I hate to admit it, but it's really freaking me out that he's not bouncing off the walls. I even saw 1000 come to try to provoke him, but 10110 just stared at him and went back to drawing circles on the wall. Every time I tried to talk to him, he wouldn't respond. Until just yesterday. He broke into the office (of course), and he just waited for me to come in. Once I did, he just asked if (Y/N) was doing alright. When I asked why he would ask that, he looked up at me and said 'you know she's worried about you, that's what she does, she worries. She worries, and she worries, and once she worries too much she acts. She acts, and then that's how she dies.' I still have chills thinking about it, and that was weeks ago. (Y/N) is fine. She'll be fine. She has Ten to keep her out of trouble, at the very least.

(2/27/2722) Man, fuck Yangyang. My first day in this hell hole couldn't have been any worse. It's already hard enough that I have to sit in this office that's just surrounded by things reminding me of him, I can't even get the time to grieve with this little shit here. The first thing he did to me was steal all of my damn keys and throw them around Sector V. If Kun didn’t yell at him to give them all back to me I’d still be searching for them. So this is the problem inmate I was warned about by Johnny, god, this kid’s going to make me hate my job, I already know it.

(3/4/2722) I was reading the last Warden’s Notes and going through the tapes from the interrogations too, but I still can’t understand what’s going on in Yangyang’s head, it’s like he has his own world in there. I get he has Moonsight, poor guy, but I never knew it to do this. Maybe it's an effect of having it for so long. He keeps telling me that he has this big plan for when he gets out, but I don’t know. He’s not all there, I think, not anymore at least. Maybe Dejun hit him in the head too hard while trying to not get killed, but Yangyang can be a mischievous shit sometimes, he likes to try to get into places he doesn't belong and he likes to rile people up until they lose their patience then he gets hurt and makes more work for everyone, geez.

(4/2/2722) I can see why Hyunjun just straight up gave up on figuring out what’s between Dejun and Yangyang. These two are just never going to see eye to eye, and Yangyang keeps droning on about shit that Dejun has apparently done, but when I bring it up to him he has no clue. It's all one-sided. Yangyang wants Dejun dead and Dejun wants to not die. It's not like Yangyang doesn't get along with other inmates, he just happens to hate Dejun with every fiber of his being.

(5/4/2722) I was doing my regular inspections of the cells when I found something… eerie, I think the word is. Underneath Yangyang’s stash of paint supplies I found (Y/N)’s locket, the silver one I got her for her sixteenth birthday, actually. I remembered her telling me that she gave it to her dad to have it cleaned. Why’s it in here? Actually, why does Yangyang have it? No, wait, I swear I saw (Y/N) wearing it today? Maybe this was a spare that Hyunjun got in case he lost it while he was in here. Either way, Yangyang insisted that it was his and literally wouldn't stop throwing things at me until I put it back. I'll just see if (Y/N) is wearing it tomorrow to confirm.

(6/10/2722) Hyunjun mentioned it in previous posts, but Yangyang's weirdly good at getting through locked doors. Every time we try to change the locks, he figures out the mechanism and breaks it open anyway. The only one he hasn't broken through is the one to his cell, thank god.

(7/2/2722) I was going through his cell again, the locket thing bothered me so much. I was right in that (Y/N) was wearing hers, so what was this one? Yangyang still insists that it's his and that I "keep my grubby little hands off of it" but still, it's kind of freaking me out. Not to mention, maybe I was just imagining it, but I swear I saw (Y/N)'s name in that cell, all over the place, actually. Nah, no way, I'm imagining it, I am. I've been working so much overtime maybe it's just me missing my best friend.

(8/5/2722) Yangyang's having what me and the others have titled a "low month." The cells opened up for free hours and he stayed put. He gets like this sometimes, and apparently always on January and August. He's just inconsolable around these times. He won't talk to us, he won't say anything, and he won't even make a sound. Even Dejun can't bother him. Yangyang just stares at him and shakes his head. Maybe we're going crazy, but it sounded like Yangyang even apologized to him. If he did, no one heard it clear enough.

(9/2/2722) And he's back to his trigger-happy self. Breaking shit left and right. First a medicine cabinet, then Dejun's arm, and next a spray paint can. All in one day, I'm actually impressed. It's like the entirety of last month just didn't happen for him. I asked him about it and he just avoided the question, I'm pretty sure it's got something to do with his last timeline then, or something.

(10/10/2722) How do I start this? Yangyang just doesn't give a shit about the fact that he's here. If anything, it's like he prefers it here or something. Despite clearly having the abilities to probably break out, he choses not to. He just likes to rub it into my face and everyone else that he probably could if he wanted to. I'll install more steps to the process, just in case. Looks like Hyunjun put in the appeal a while ago, I'll follow up with it too then.

(11/5/2722) I know Hyunjun wrote about it in previous entries, but I never really heard Yangyang talk about (Y/N) until now. He says that sometimes he can hear her voice, it talks to him, it, and I kid you not he said this, it "comforts" him. Yeah, he's officially lost it. I'm just trying to remember if there was a point where (Y/N) could've been close enough for him to know her. I asked if he knew her in his last timeline, and he said yes. That explains a lot of things, actually. It doesn't look like he knows about my (Y/N). Let's keep it that way.

(12/7/2722) Yangyang ranted to me about Dejun again, but what's new? It's just weird that he did it for a month straight. Every day something new and every day some other thing to nitpick him on. Recently, the first thing Yangyang has been asking when he comes (breaks) into the office is "Hi, Ten! Which one am I talking to today? Good cop or bad cop?" I understand what he means, especially when we do interrogations, I have to be more stern, versus when we're out of that room and can be more casual.

(1/3/2723) Yangyang's still ranting on Dejun, he's relentless. But, the fact that Kun's been telling me to keep an eye on Dejun too, maybe they're both on to something. I wonder if they're working together, but nothing seems to have changed on Dejun's part. I wonder what the hell Yangyang's on sometimes.

(2/9/2723) This shit is more fucked than I could imagine… I think I’m losing my mind and it’s not just because of Yangyang, what the hell is going on in here?! And if what Yangyang told me was true… Can I even trust myself?

General Tag List: @vickylamore @chxngyunie @sehunnies-hunnie96 @yangsrose @bat-shark-repellant @cloudreads @raeincitizen @here-aeth @lune1897 @gaiyofanfiction @jaeminsespresso @umbralhelwolf @morningsunandnightsky

NCT Tag List: @cherrylovr @eggoyu

Zemblanity: @leesalts @hoshitaro @beefchippp @watersvn @yukine-smx @chelsea-smiile-x3 @fruityutas @rikitual @sophie-rebecca17 @hearts4yang @oofimdumb @haechans-sunflower @shyshybabyy @moonji-v @mellowmarigolds @nichobins @jonggdae @pukupukupawpau

Unable to be Tagged: @mizzdivagirl7-blog @elwiwiwi

If you want to be added to either tag list just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

[yannowhatigiveup]

My One And Only - Chapter 6

Previous | Next

Thank you so much for all the notes and reblogs! As I’m writing this I’m currently writing chapter 14. As more chapters are being written, I try to make them longer. Before my target was around 1000 words then it progressed to 1700 and then to 2000 so newer chapters will be updated less frequently.

Alya shook her head. "That isn't what I'm trying to say. What I'm trying to find out is who does she is love now?"

————————————————————

Marinette had been the one to collect the dinner despite Damian's constant requests to help. Despite her short size, Marinette managed to transport the food from the door to the dinning table in his hotel room, which Damian found surprising as she was way much stronger than she looked. Damian thanked her for bringing the food and sat in the chair directly in front of her so that it would be much easier to talk, after pushing her chair in for her.

"So, Shaytan" Marinette said while struggling to cut the vegetarian steak. "What did you want to ask?".

Damian smiled and got up to place his hands on hers, then he helped cut the steak before sitting back down. She giggled. "Earlier you asked what my reason for coming to Paris was. I shall fully answer that question now. My reason for coming was to gain more information about the alleged attacks happening here" Damian was slightly shocked at how Marinette's facial expressions changed from happy and bubbly to serious, though he didn't show it. This was a serious topic after all.

"Well first of all, the attacks are happening, they have been for over a year now." Damian's shock was plastered all over his face 'They've been dealing with this for over a year?' "Second of all" she took a piece of steak and swallowed it before continuing. "The Paris police force aren't dealing with this by themselves, there are superheroes here"

"Well Angel, who are they?"

"Well when the attacks first started a superhero duo was always there to defeat them. A girl called Ladybug and a boy called Chat Noir" she took another bite of steak. "But since the villains have gotten a lot stronger, they've expanded to a superhero team. On hero's day was one of the most biggest attacks and at the time, the superhero team was at five members. The other heroes were Rena Rouge, Carapace and Queen Bee." Damian was impressed at how much Marinette could say without needing to take breaths of air.

"And who is the one responsible for these attacks?"

"Hawkmoth" Marinette said taking yet another piece of steak. "When someone's negative emotions passes a certain limit, Hawkmkth uses an Akuma to akumatize that person, turning them into a villain with powers. If you're wondering, an akuma is a butterfly filled with Hawkmoth's power. I heard he can control them to go to a certain victim but if the akuma is far away, he can't control the villain or get in contact with the akuma." Marinette took another piece of steak, in her defense it was really good, for a vegetarian steak. "But recently there has been a new villain working on his side, Mayura. She creates something similar to an akuma but it's call an amok and it's in the shape of a feather. What the amok does is create a sentimonster. A sentimonster is fueled by emotions and can be controlled only by the person who holds the object with the amok inside"

"Yes that does make sense. So how many superheroes has there been in total and what are the ages of all of them, including Hawkmoth and Mayura?"

"I believe there have been ten different superheroes." She began listing them all out loud. "Ladybug, Chat Noir, Rena Rouge, Carapace, Queen Bee, Viperion, Pegasus, Ryuko, King Monkey and Multimouse. Yep ten but most of them have only appeared once. And they're all in between the ages of 14-16, I'd say. Hawkmoth and Mayura however are adults"

"So you're saying that two adults are putting the lives of a maximum of ten kids in danger" Marinette nodded. "But what is his motive?"

"I honestly have no idea" Marinette put bluntly while putting another piece of steak in her mouth. She then glanced at the time and realised she had to go home soon. She looked at the half eaten steak, she sighed "I have to go Damian I'm so sorry, I'm can tell you every thing I know through text if you want me to,"

"No it's fine, you go home and home a good sleep. We can talk tomorrow" Damian was surprised when Marinette hugged him before leaving. Of course, he hugged her back.

A few hours after Marinette left, Damian opened the computer to a shared document, surprisingly, Tim was on it at the time. The system showed that Tim was typing something.

Tim: Wow, no rest for Demon Spawn eh?

Damian rolled his eyes at his older brother's comment. He dragged his mouse down the document, searching for a certain column labeled 'current situation'. There he could give a general idea of how bad it was here at Paris. Marinette and told him so much already but his gut told him that she had more to tell. Though he didn't like the thought of becoming soft, he didn't mind being that soft around Mari. 'Everyone else? Hell no'. He quickly found the column he was looking for. He then selected an option out of the possible five, 'critical'. This meant that Paris was in serious danger. He knew that Tim was watching, probably drowning himself in coffee, but the dark-haired boy was surprised when Tim didn't sent a message straight away. As the three dots appeared, indicating that Tim had begun to type, Damian signed off. He liked it when he seemed mysterious.

Then Damian remembered that Marinette never got to finish her steak. Not wanting to waste it, he decided to have it as a midnight snack.

~~~

"Oh Tikki! I had an amazing time with Damian" the bluenette gushed to her kwami.

"You seemed very happy in his company Marinette!" Tikki squeaked. "But how will you be able to move on after he's gone back to Gotham?"

Marinette frowned. "Well, I'll worry about that when the time comes". She then thought about all the fun she had at the dark-haired boy's hotel room then the thought about how he made her blush like mad. Again the moment made her blush again, just not as much as earlier. Then the thought hit her. "Tikki, when I put Damian's head on my lap, do you think he thought it meant something else?"

"You let him rest his head in you're lap? Wow I never saw that!" Marinette went red again, this time she didn't have Damian's shoulder to hide herself. 'I guess that's my new coping mechanism, but I'm not complaining. He's also really hot when he smirks- gAH'

~~~

It was 4 pm. Tim wasn't really tired, he was just a caffeine addict, this was his fifth cup in the span of a single hour. If Damian was here, he would likely look at him with judging eyes. 'But he isn't here so hah, take that Demon Spawn'. Just when he said that in his mind, a message arrived saying that Damian was online.

"Speak of the devil" Tim muttered, taking another sip of coffee. He decided to write him a message.

Tim: Wow, no rest for Demon Spawn eh?

Though he wasn't really expecting him to reply, he didn't expect Damian to do what he did next. Tim watched as Damian changed the situation column for 'No Information' to 'Critical'. "What the-" Tim saw that Dick was in the room. "Dick could you pull up a live feed from Paris?"

"Aight"

The TV showed a peaceful and quiet Paris, not like the one you would expect if it were labeled under 'critical'. Tim was so confused he began to type a message but noticed that Damian had signed off. Dick, seeing Tim's confused nature, came over to look at the computer. "What was he referring to? What the hell is going on?"

———

Taglist: @little-bluestar, @miracleofadisaster, @frieddonutsweets

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

if this was a dream pt. 3

i want to apologize in advance because this is literally like 4 chapters in a trench coat... i'm serious chapter 1 was just over 1000 words and this is over 4000, I have no idea what happened. the reason I didn't break it up is because it is very alastair-centric. I promise next chapter we will get back to thomas and see how he's doing with the actual amnesia part of it all.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Fanfiction Masterlist | AO3

Alastair pulled his coat tightly around himself, trying to keep his breathing steady. The walk from the Institute to Cornwall Gardens was long, but it would give him far more time to clear his head than borrowing a carriage or hailing a hansom cab. He fell into the rhythm of his footsteps; this was familiar to him. He had spent more hours than he could count just walking and walking, trying to run from this life the universe had given him. 

Now, though, even his walking was infected by Thomas. 

Sometimes, I simply needed to get away from all of the hovering. There was this bit of forest near our house in Idris… it was nice, peaceful. The perfect escape, somewhere to wander until I was too spent to continue. Drove my parents a bit mad, but it was what I needed. 

Alastair told him about the woods around Cirenworth, how it was his escape, too. He’d memorized nearly every corner of that forest over the years. It was somewhere where he could pretend to be someone, anyone else. He could be no one, even. He’d left most of the details out, as he often did when discussing his childhood. He trusted Thomas completely, but there were some things he preferred to leave in the past. 

Now, his sleepless body ached against the increasing pace of his footsteps, pushing forward as if moving quickly enough could outrun the tears burning behind his eyes. He did not know if he could do this again. If Thomas never regained his memories, could Alastair convince him to forgive him again? Their original circumstances were quite peculiar. Could Alastair survive trying to gain his forgiveness again? 

He’d do anything for Thomas, he knew. He loved him, even if he’d never said it out loud. And as he said it now, even in the safety of his own mind, it felt far different than it ever did with Charles on the receiving end. With Charles, love felt strangling. It was shackles to his ankles and wrists, tying him to his misery. Looking back, it was not love at all. With Thomas, he felt free. Thomas made the impossible feel possible. 

It isn’t possible. It won’t ever be.

He heard his own words repeated back to him. He knew where this was headed from the start. This is how it all works out for Alastair Carstairs. He knew this time would be no different, even if he hoped it would. 

He loathed this feeling inside of him. He’d been doing well. He’d been happy. Now all he could think of were his own self-doubts, his own self-hatred, his age-old desire to run away to the farthest stretches of the Earth in the middle of the night, never to return. 

A better partner, a better person would not be so consumed in these thoughts as he was. A better partner would not be the recipient of such hatred from the man he loved at all, memories or not. A better partner would know what to do, how to ease the pain and anxiety that flooded Thomas’ eyes rather than exacerbate them. He was not better, however. He could never be what Thomas deserved. He knew it from the start, but it felt different, being thrown in his face now. 

Perhaps it would be better this way, he thought, for it to end like this. It was going to end eventually, as all things do. Perhaps this way would hurt Thomas less, even if Alastair would always wonder what could have happened if he’d tried a little harder, if he’d been a little less horrible, if he’d been a little bit stronger, a bit braver.

He was being ridiculous, he knew. Thomas merely needed time. He’d just woken up from his injury, six months displaced, no less. He was grieving his sister again, even more than before. Alastair wanted to ease Thomas’ pain, but he could not, and thus, Thomas needed time and space and he would give it to him. 

Before he realized it, he had returned to his home. He could not remember most of the walk, his feet guiding him through the city he now knew a bit too well as his mind wandered to a place he couldn’t quite reach with his consciousness. 

He slowly unlocked the door and sighed as he hung his coat. Cordelia started quickly down the stairs but froze as her expression fell when she saw the look on his face. 

Realizing what she must be thinking, Alastair quickly shook his head. “He’s alright. He woke up. He simply… appears to be missing about the past six months of memory.” 

Cordelia frowned, her face softening as she continued down the stairs and embraced her brother. “Oh, dâdash. Are you alright?” 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? Thomas is alive and awake. He just hates me.” 

She sighed. “He doesn’t hate you. I don’t think he ever truly did.” 

He shook his head. “He thinks he does. Or he wants to. What’s it matter?” 

“Take a seat, dâdash. We just made tea, I’ll bring some out.” Before he could protest, she left for the kitchen. 

He settled into one of the armchairs. When Cordelia returned, she took the one beside his and began to pour tea for each of them. “You two will work your way through this, you know. Whatever happens.” 

“How can you be so sure?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Are you joking? I don’t think I’ve ever met two people better matched. It’s as if you share the same soul or something.” 

He gritted his teeth. “Most would say we’re opposites.” 

“You act like opposites. Believe it or not, though, behaving grumpy or cheerful are not personality traits. In all the ways that matter, you’re two halves of one whole. It makes me utterly green with envy sometimes, seeing the two of you together, the way that you understand each other so completely. 

“I love James, of course, with my whole being. But if I’m being honest, for a long time I thought that the reason I liked him was because he reminded me of Father, all introverted and bookish and such. Now, I’m merely trying to decipher what was real and what was not, what parts of me are genuine and which ones are simply who I thought I needed to be to please him. James, too, is finding himself again after all that happened with Grace. Sometimes, it feels as though we’re two clueless children stumbling around with no sense of self, for some reason placed in this big house with adult responsibilities. It’s an utter mess sometimes, though every moment is worth it. 

“Yet you… somehow, despite everything, despite all of the odds stacked against you, despite so much pain and fear, you found yourself and your soulmate all in one person. It’s what you deserve, dâdash, what you both deserve. You will find a way.” 

He did not quite believe her, but he would not argue. 

“Are you going to be alright?” she asked, cocking her head. 

He nodded and then paused for a moment. “I don’t know how I’ll explain this to Mâmân.” Despite all the trouble it’s caused, she still did not know the truth about his time in school. 

“I could, if you’d like?” Cordelia offered. 

He sighed. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to keep the entire matter out of his own hands. He shook his head. “It’s time I did, I think.” 

She gave him a bit of a frown but nodded. “If you’re sure.” 

“I’m tired of lying. I spent enough time keeping secrets when Father was alive.” He stood from the chair. 

“I’m here if you need me.” 

He started up the staircase, mustering up a more positive expression as to not worry his mother too much before he could get the words out. He found her in her bedroom, resting in an armchair a few feet away from Rostam’s bassinet. He approached his baby brother first, giving him a small smile though he was fast asleep. It could have been his mind playing tricks on him, but he was certain Rostam was bigger than he’d been just a few days ago. 

“He just fell asleep,” his mother said softly. He turned to her. Her eyes looked tired, though no more tired than they had a few days earlier, and certainly no more tired than his own. “Come, azizam, what are you doing home? Did something happen?”

Alastair shook his head. “Thomas is awake; he’s alright.” 

“Why aren’t you with him?” she asked after a small stretch of silence. 

“He… He has amnesia. He doesn’t remember anything past last summer. It’s best if I keep my distance for a bit.” 

His mother gave him a small smile. “It’ll be okay, Alastair joon. He’ll understand given a bit of time.” 

Alastair didn’t look at her. “Maybe. I don’t know. He… he’s quite angry with me. The original circumstances under which he forgave me were fairly bizarre to begin with.” 

“Forgive you for what, dear? What could possibly be so terrible that he would not forgive you?” 

He sighed. He knew he could not avoid this conversation any longer. “I… It was something that happened at school.” He paused for a moment. “I know you think that I got on well with everyone at the Academy, but… That isn’t the truth. When I first arrived, all of the other boys could tell that I was an easy target. I was smaller than them, and… there were rumors. After a while, I just couldn’t bear it any longer. I… I was always quite good with words, as you know. I learned that using them to cut down others would get me a good laugh, and as long as the other boys were laughing they weren’t…” He trailed off. How was he meant to tell his mother this? “It took the attention off of me.” 

“By the time James and Thomas and their friends arrived the next year, I was so angry, at everyone and everything… I was so jealous of them. They had…” Picture perfect families, he wanted to say, though he could not. “They had these perfect lives, or at least they appeared that way to me. They never had to worry about attracting the wrong attention on the street or being humiliated because their families couldn’t afford to hire private tutors. They never had to worry about anything but growing up.” 

“Alastair…” his mother started. “I know we never discussed things of this nature. It’s alright that you were angry. They benefited from society in ways that rejected you merely by circumstances of birth. But that wasn’t their fault.” 

“I know. I know that now, now that I’m older. I know that my anger was misplaced. But when I was in school, society was too big. I only saw what was in front of me. I thought that if I must be cruel to someone, it should be to them. I said terrible, dreadful things about them and their families, things that should never be repeated. They did nothing to deserve the way I treated them. Thomas was kind to me, one of the only people who was ever kind to me in my two years there, and yet I still slandered his family. Last summer, he learned of the things I had said when he was not listening. That is what he remembers now.” 

There was a long stretch of silence. Alastair would not look his mother in the eyes. “I always knew that you had a hard time at school, Alastair,” she said finally. “Your lies were never too convincing. I could see how you’d changed. I… I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.” 

He knew it, too. He knew how his parents had spoken about him in those years, lamenting about what a miserable and difficult teenager he’d grown into when he and his sister were not in the room. He also knew how his father only ever seemed to care about Alastair’s destructive behavior when his mother began to pester him about his drinking. 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“The world was cruel to you, and I could not protect you from it, but I should have tried. You were a child, my child, I am your mother, and I was meant to protect you, but I did not. Not just from the world, but from… your father, I know. Be kind to yourself, azizam. Regardless of what cruel things you did while trying to balance the weight of the world on small shoulders, it seems to me that those you hurt have forgiven you. You simply have not forgiven yourself.” 

“Perhaps they shouldn’t have. Perhaps I never deserved their forgiveness in the first place.” 

Sona sighed. “Forgiveness is not deserved, Alastair. We forgive for our own wellbeing, so that we can let go and move on. If you will not fight for Thomas on your own behalf, fight on his. He deserves to forgive you, to heal from these wounds of the past. He deserves to be loved by you.” 

Alastair didn’t respond. 

“It pains me to see you like this. You deserve to forgive, too. You deserve to forgive yourself and all who have caused you pain. You deserve to be free of it. As long as you keep such a tight grip on it all, you will only continue to destroy yourself, and as long as you continue to destroy yourself, you will hurt those who love you as well. Please-” she cut herself off, her voice breaking. Her voice trembled as she began again, and he realized for a striking moment that he had never seen her this vulnerable before. He’d witnessed her pain after Elias’ death, and he’d caught glimpses of her sorrow before it, but she’d always kept her truest self tightly locked. “Please, my love, promise me that you’ll try. You can start with me.” 

He looked up at her abruptly, startled. He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could find the words, she’d stood and crossed the few feet between them. 

She took his hands in hers. Seeing the pain in her eyes, he wanted desperately to look away but he could not. “Please, forgive me. Forgive me for all of the ways that I’ve failed you. You were too young for the burdens I placed upon you. I never should have allowed you to take on that responsibility. Please, forgive me for all of the times I overlooked your pain because I was distracted by my own. I am so sorry, Alastair, for each and every time I hurt you and dismissed you. I did the best with what I had, but if I could go back in time and teach myself to be a little stronger, a little braver, to be a better mother than I was, I would do it in a heartbeat, but I can’t. All I can do is promise to try to be a better mother, not just to your brother, but to you as well. If it’s not too late.” Careful tears streamed down her cheeks, rare as they were. 

He shook his head, feeling his own tears spill. He fell into her embrace, holding her tightly, as he had not done since he was a small child. “I forgive you,” he said softly, and he meant it. 

They stood for a long while, holding each other, taking comfort in each other and the silence. Until Rostam began to cry. They pulled away from each other awkwardly. 

“I should… get some rest,” Alastair said, trying to pull himself together. He realized suddenly that he had no idea what time it was or when he’d last slept or eaten. 

Sona nodded. “Of course. I love you, Alastair. I’m so proud of the man you’ve become. I’m sorry that you and Thomas are struggling right now, but I know that you two are strong and resilient. With a bit of time and healing, this will pass.” 

He nodded, unable to respond without breaking down again. 

He returned to his bedroom to the sound of his mother soothing his newborn brother. Shutting his door behind him, he felt the exhaustion of the past several days settled deep into his bones. With heavy movements, he changed into clean clothes, leaving the old ones in a heap on the floor. Typically, he would be horrified at the thought of anything in his room so out of place, but he could not find the energy within himself to care.

He collapsed into his bed, drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep, repeating his mothers words back to himself in his mind. If only forgiving himself would come as easily as forgiving her. 

* * *

The next two days passed as a blur. He’d slept heavily the first night. Cordelia had reportedly attempted to wake him for dinner, but settled on bringing a bit of food to his bedroom instead. 

The next day passed a bit more normally, though Alastair still felt quite scattered. He’d appeared well-enough put together, however, for Cordelia to feel comfortable going home, so he supposed that was a good sign. Kamala had come for a visit, too, though he wasn’t much in the mood for talking, and they wound up just giving Rostam a bath and discussing Kamala’s latest read. 

The day after that had slowly begun to feel more normal, more balanced. Until Gideon Lightwood arrived at his door. 

Alastair stared at him for a moment before regaining his composure. He began to call him Mr. Lightwood before stopping himself. It still felt a bit odd to call him by his given name. “Gideon, hello. What are you doing here? Did something happen?” 

“No, no,” he said quickly. “Everything’s fine. Thomas is doing well; he’s feeling much better, though no significant improvements to his memory.” 

Alastair nodded. “That’s good. That he’s feeling better, I mean.” 

“I came here to check on you, actually.” 

“Oh.” He paused. “You didn’t need to do that.” 

“I wanted to. Well, we all did, Sophie, Eugenia, and I, but I was the most persuasive.” He smiled as he spoke, as if smug at the accomplishment of being delegated the one to come visit him. 

“Right, er, come in,” he gestured for Gideon to enter and take a seat in the sitting room. “You’re in luck; my mother just made tea if you’d like some.” 

He nodded. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you.” 

Alastair returned a few moments later and began pouring tea. “It was very kind of you to come, but I’m truly alright. Just worried about Thomas is all.” 

Gideon nodded. “Of course. As I said, he’s doing well, or as well as can be expected under the circumstances. I know it is difficult for him, feeling so disconnected. Regardless of the brave face he puts on. It’s frustrating for him, as if we’ve all got some sort of inside joke that he isn’t in on.” 

He could imagine it: the quick glances, the brief answers to Thomas’ many questions. He was certain it was driving him mad. “I wish there was something I could do to help.” 

Gideon gave him a small smile. “Because he’s feeling better, his friends are coming by today to attempt to fill him in on the time that he’s missing. I’m certain there will be gaps, though. Perhaps afterwards he will be more open to speaking with you.” 

Alastair didn’t know how to tell him that he wasn’t so sure Thomas’ friends would be singing his praises. 

“You should stop by the Institute tomorrow if you’re free,” Gideon offered. 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” 

“It’s up to Thomas, of course, if he would like to see you, but if nothing else I know that Sophie and Eugenia would love for you to come by.” 

Alastair didn’t respond for a long moment. He’d spent these past couple of days mainly sleeping and caring for his brother, but also ruminating over his conversation with his mother. He began to make a mental list, both of the things he felt he had not forgiven himself for and the things he had not forgiven others for. Before he knew it, the list was distressingly lengthy. He had no idea where to even begin. Perhaps if he could put this one mistake behind him, whatever that meant, the rest would seem less overwhelming. 

He knew that he would never forgive himself for how he hurt Thomas’ family as long as the terrible things he’d done went unspoken. Perhaps that was why he never brought it up. “Did Thomas ever tell you why he was angry with me?” 

Gideon narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Something that happened back at school, wasn’t it?” 

Alastair nodded. He memorized the way Gideon looked at him now, prepared to only be looked upon with hatred in a few moments. He exhaled and looked down, too cowardly to watch the expression change. “I said things… horrible things about your family. About your wife and about Thomas and about Henry Fairchild, but mainly about you, the Consul, and Matthew. There were rumours going around that he was your child, and I repeated them to him. I repeated them after, too. I have reasons for the way I behaved at school, but I have no reasons for that. I was simply angry. Matthew and I were both terrible to each other, and I was so angry for so many reasons. I did not think of the consequences of my words. I am so, so sorry. I am so sorry for the role I played in causing your family such pain.” 

“It’s okay,” Gideon replied gently. Alastair looked up in surprise to see not a hint of the hatred he was expecting. Seeing the confused look on his face, he continued. “Obviously, I’m not happy that you said cruel things about my loved ones, but it was a long time ago, and I would be a hypocrite to not recognize a man who regrets his mistakes and has learned from them. You make my son happy, Alastair. That more than makes up for anything you might’ve said when you were younger, in my eyes.” He flashed him a smile and gave an exaggerated sigh. “Here I was, worried that you’d killed someone or something.” 

“Well, I’ve also done that, but it’s not what Thomas is angry about.” 

Gideon stared at him, clearly unsure over whether or not he was serious. 

“Joking,” he said quickly. “...kind of.” 

He looked back at him hesitantly. “Do you… want to talk about it?” 

“Ha, no. Not today.” His guilt surrounding the deaths of Clive Cartwright and his father would need to be addressed another time. 

“Right,” Gideon responded. “Thank you for telling me this, Alastair. I appreciate your honesty. I only have one question, why did you not say anything about this before? It was clearly bothering you. Did you fear we would reject you?” 

“I…” That seemed like the logical answer, wasn’t it? Yet he knew it was not the correct one. “I think that perhaps it was the opposite. I was just so ashamed… and I knew that as long as I held on to that, I would never allow myself to truly get too close. I know how horrible that sounds, and I know it hurt Thomas, too, but for some reason that,” he gestured vaguely with his hands, “was scarier than anything else. I’m sorry, I know that doesn’t make sense-” 

“It does. I understand, Alastair, even if I don’t like that you felt you had to do that. I know the past couple of months have been complicated for you, though in many ways less complicated than the years before. It will always be your choice, but know that there will always be a place for you in my life, whether you and Thomas are together or not. But I will not ever blame you for anything you feel you are not able to do.”

Alastair nodded, feeling a soreness at the back of this throat that indicated impending tears. 

“You should stop by tomorrow and visit us. It’s up to you, but I think that it would be helpful for you to speak with Sophie, too. I will not repeat anything to her, lest you decide not to. I do think it would be somewhat of a relief, though. We thought that the reason you were so distant was because you disliked us.” 

“What?” He silently cursed the pain in his voice. 

“Joking,” Gideon teased with a chuckle. “Kind of.” 

Alastair exhaled, feeling a bit of the tension release, and gave him half of an eye roll. 

“Please, tell me honestly, Alastair, are you doing alright?” 

He nodded in response, finally feeling it to be true. 

“I shall take my leave then. The tea was truly lovely, by the way. You must pass my thanks unto your mother.” 

“I will.” 

“See you tomorrow, then?” 

“Tomorrow,” Alastair responded before he could stop himself. He stood to see him out, but was surprised when Gideon met him with a hug goodbye. 

“Thank you for chatting with me.” 

“Thank you for… checking in.” 

Gideon smiled at him and donned his coat and hat. Alastair watched him as he departed, feeling more at peace now than he had in quite a while.

thanks so much for reading! taglist (reply, ask, or message to be added/removed): @stxr-thxif @satanisanauthor @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @kamalajcshi @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid

[karlajoyner]

Can you do a smut piece with Owen where he takes you to Hawaii and you guys meet up with the cast and everything, but then later that night he takes you back to the bedroom to show you some real fun. Ik you get this for a while, can’t wait for your other work love your writing style.

So Needy (Owen Patrick Joyner x Reader)

A/n: Hey guys I hope you like this one! I'm sorry I haven't posted in over a week I had a lot of shit to do but I have a few imagines done and I'm working on the rest of my requests so I could hopefully open them up again soon. Also Alex and Reggie now have last names and I’m 1000% freaking the fuck out because it was the last thing I was expecting . I’m gonna go back eventually and put them in all my imagines. And yeah....totally didn’t make me go back and watch the show for the 12th time. It’s a problem....it’s fine. Anyways Enjoy! (Sorry for any typos I always fuck up but I’ll go back and fix them later)

Requested by: @jjbassett (Tumblr)

Warnings: Smut! (18+)

————

I walked into the airport tiredly. Thankful it was at least somewhat empty.

"Owen why'd you book our flights so damn early?" I asked my boyfriend who was walking to my left.

"I didn't book them. Charlie did" He stated my gaze moving to the boy on my right.

"I should have known. No one but a psychopath would book a flight at the ass crack of dawn" I spoke earning a laugh from both boys.

"To be fair I thought you were a morning person y/n/n"

"Oh I am. When it's 8:00 o'clock and past that. I do not enjoy having to wake up at 4:00 o'clock in the morning to get ready. I mean seriously Charles it's still fucking dark out" I pointed out.

"Oh man. Alright I'll take that into consideration"

"Be lucky you didn't have to deal with her when the first alarm rang" Owen said making me glare at him.

"I love you baby. You know that but you just get so grumpy" He spoke making me roll my eyes.

"Did you just compare me to one of the seven dwarves? Fine. Alright. I get a little grumpy. But that's only because I have to be the big spoon too"

"Oh my god man your the little spoon" Charlie laughed as we arrived to security.

"You swore you wouldn't tell anybody" Owen whisper shouted.

"Yeah well that's just me being grumpy. Sorry babe"

"No it's cool. It's cool. Just wait until tonight" He whispered the last part in my ear before letting me go ahead.

"Seriously Charlie a knife? You tried to bring a knife on a plane?!" I asked exasperatedly as we boarded the plane.

"I didn't know they wouldn't let me bring it"

"I think it's a given that they wouldn't let you bring it dude"

"Yeah yeah"

"Well paybacks a bitch huh Charlie?" I joked handing Owen my carry on so he could put it above our seats.

"Haha y/n. I'd like you to remember that your stuck on this flight with me for the next few hours so I'd be a little nicer"

"I just can't wait to tell Jer about this" I said taking my seat next to the window. Owen taking the one to my right.

"Owennn your girlfriends being mean" Charlie complained earning a laugh from the blonde.

"I'm sorry Charlie but I can't do anything. The more she's mean to you the less she's mean to me" Owen said making me giggle.

"He's not wrong" I grinned intertwining our fingers and placing a quick kiss to Owen's cheek.

"That's all I get" He questioned making me playfully roll my eyes before pulling him in for a sweet kiss on the lips.

"Better?" I asked pulling away.

"Much" He smiled widely.

"You guys better not do that the whole plane ride"

"We won't. Gotta save something for tonight man" Owen joked. My elbow instinctively shoving itself into his arm as Charlie began to laugh.

"Ouch"

"Funny how you think your getting some tonight" I muttered.

"Am I not?"

"We'll see" I responded putting in my AirPods as the two boys began to conversate.

"Do you see your bag?" I questioned my boyfriend. We'd been stuck at baggage claim for ages trying to find Owens green suitcase.

"Nope"

"Owen" I groaned.

"There! There it is!" He shouted excitedly.

"Oh yes!" Charlie cheered as the bag reached our area.

"Let's get out of here"

"And just like that I hate airports" I said as we walked past random strangers.

"Y/n!" I heard a familiar voice shout. My eyes quickly spotting the source.

"Tori!" I screamed letting go of my boyfriends hand and running towards the girl who had her arms wide open.

I giggled engulfing her into a tight hug before turning to the rest of the group behind her.

"Kenny!" Owen and Charlie greeted their director.

"It's good to see you guys too" Jeremy spoke up.

"Care!"

"Y/n I'm so glad your here"

"I'm glad to be here. It's always good to see you too Jer" I spoke hugging him after I hugged Carolynn.

"Finally someone who appreciates me" He said making me throw my head back in laughter.

"To the hotel!"

"So what took you guys so long?" Jeremy asked as the 7 of us lounged around the pool.

"Yeah we were at terminal like 40 minutes after your flight landed.

"It's a long story"

"Speaking of stories" I smirked looking at Charlie.

"Don't" He warned pointing a finger at me.

"I didn't say anything" I giggled, back stroking away from the group.

"So me and Care we're thinking of doing some shopping tomorrow you in?" Tori questioned swimming with me.

"One hundred percent" I said glancing at Owen who was laid back on one of the lounge chairs near the pools edge. He looked so good with his swim trunks and his damp hair.

"So then we decided we'd just save it for Saturday before Care left" Toris voice brought me back to reality.

"I'm sorry what?" I asked.

"Did you hear anything I said?"

"I did not" I muttered.

"And why is that?" She asked teasingly poking my side.

"Because my boyfriend is sitting a few feet away and he looks like that" I internally groaned.

"I say you go get him" She grinned at me.

"Not yet" I mischievously smiled swimming back towards the group.

"It's so cold" I stated getting out the pool and grabbing my beach towel. Wrapping it around me.

"Aww come here" Owen said opening his arms widely.

I simpered making my way over to him and laying down in his embrace.

His arms immediately wrapping themselves around my soaked body. His bare chest coming into contact with my partially covered one.

"You guys are too cute" Tori teased.

"Not cuter than us though right?" Carolynn joked hugging Tori.

"No. Never" She responded making us all laugh.

"I'd like to propose a toast" Kenny spoke holding up his drink.

"To friends"

"To family" Charlie followed.

"To love" Owen said making heart skip a beat as he lifted his drink in the air.

"Cheers" They spoke in unison lifting their drinks to their lips. Owens beautiful green eyes never leaving mine.

"I love you"

"I love you too Owen" I whispered placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Why don't we head back to the hotel for some real fun?" He suggested quietly making sure no one heard.

His hand running up and down my arm soothingly.

"Hmm is that your attempt to get me into bed?"

"Why? Is it working?" He asked making me smirk.

"So we're doing dinner tomorrow night right guys?" I asked sitting up straddling the boy beneath me. Rejoining the conversation our friends were having.

"Yeah. Kenny was telling us about this great place his friend recommended" Jeremy explained as I shifted a bit to get comfortable.

A pair of hands landing on hips.

"Oh really? Tell me more about his place Kenny" I said moving again hearing a small groan escape Owens lips as our thin clothed fronts rubbed against each others.

A wicked smirk forming on my face as we listened in on Kennys description of the place.

"It sounds fantastic. Doesn't it sound fantastic Owen?" I questioned my boyfriend shuffling again.

"Yeah. Yup sounds great. Listen it getting late guys. I think we're gonna head back to the hotel" He voiced sitting up as well.

"It's only 6:30 dude"

"Yeah but we just wanna have time to shower and get dinner. You know together. As a couple"

"Right.....well have fun you two" Kenny said awkwardly as I stood up along with Owen.

"Oh I'm pretty sure they will" Charlie joked causing me to snicker at the boy.

I quickly collected the remaining of my pool things saying my fair well goodbyes to our friends. Or tried.

Owen was clearly in a rush to get to the hotel.

"Don't leave me" Tori said hugging me one more time before we left.

"Sorry to break it to you but she's gotta go" Owen said removing the girls arms from my body and pulling me away.

"Bye!!" I waved to the group who were all cackling at Owens behavior.

"You didn't have to be so pushy" I muttered as we walked into the hotel lobby.

"Pushy? Please you knew what you were doing" He whisper yelled dragging me along the hallways towards the elevator.

"And what was I doing?" I asked stepping in immediately feeling my back pressed against the cold wall.

"You tell me" He whispered inching his face towards mine. I watched as he pushed the button to our floor before looking back at me.

I took initiative crashing our lips together. Feeling his hand land firmly on my waist as the elevator came to a halt signifying we were on our floor.

"Come on" I spoke rather harshly dragging him towards our room.

"Who's being pushy now?"

"Owen I swear to god if you say another word I will lock you outside and make myself cum got it?"

"Yes mam" He said taking my bag while I unlocked the door with my key card.

Immediately upon opening the door I felt the back of my bikini come undone the top falling to the ground.

Turning around I saw the childlike smirk on my boyfriends face as he shut the door behind us. Making sure to lock it.

I smirked back with the same look on my face. Biting my lip in anticipation as Owen moved forward wrapping his arms around my body.

"Your so-" I didn't let him finish as I crashed my lips onto his wanting to feel him closer.

He was quick to respond deepening the kiss as he back me up onto the queen sized bed in the middle of the suite.

"I can't even get a word out geez" He joked pulling away.

"I'm sorry baby what were you gonna say?" I teased as his body hovered over mine. My body prepped up on my elbows to get a better view of his face.

"I was gonna say your so needy"

"I'm the needy one? Really?"

"Well it's obviously not me"

"Care to test that theory?" I suggested watching his face scrunch up in confusion.

I pecked his lips one more time before using all my strength to flip us over so he was on his back. I moved my body over his so I was straddling him now. A grin appearing on my face.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good right now. I just need you to do what I say. Got it?" I whispered watching him nod his head rapidly, clearly intrigued at my proposal.

I leaned down kissing him passionately his hands finding my waist with ease. Slowly grinding down onto him earning a moan from the blonde. I bit his lip as we roughly fought for dominance.

Owen letting me win as soon as I began to palm him through his swim trunks.  I pulled away moving down slowly until I was in front of him on my knees.

"Oh fuck baby. You look so fucking beautiful" He bit his lip taking a hold of my hair.

"No. You can't touch me. That's the only rule" I stated pushing his hand away.

"I can't? Why not?"

"Because I said so. Now are you gonna let me handle your little problem here or not?" I teased him, rubbing my hand against the fabric of his shorts.

"Fuck okay baby. Just- just do something" He pleaded. I smirked knowing I had it in the bag now.

"Take them off" I demanded. Sitting back as he removed his shorts along with his boxers letting his dick spring free.

I took the shaft pumping it a few times. Teasing the tip, even swirling my tongue around it earning a loud groan from Owen himself.

I slowly started pumping his length before placing my mouth on it. Beginning to bob my head up and down, feeling Owen thrust his body upward in attempt to get more of himself inside my mouth. His fist balling up and clenching the bedsheets tightly.

I hummed in response as moans escaped the boys mouth while I sucked him off. Eyeing him closely through my eyelashes seeing his head tilted back and his eyes were screwed shut made me even more excited for what was coming.

"I'm so close y/n" As soon as he said that I pulled away from him with a pop watching as his eyes shot open.

"W-what the hell?" He asked clearly confused.

"I'm just tired. Think it's time for bed no?" I questioned going to pick up my bikini top.

"No- No what the fuck babe" He spoke from behind me.

"Well I just th-" My words were cut off by a yelp as I was tossed back onto the bed.

"We're not done here" He spoke lunging on top of me quickly pressing his lips onto mine.

I sighed contently wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him closer as we made out.

"Who's the needy one now?" I whispered pulling away earning a scowl from him as he undid the strings of my bikini bottoms.

I shivered as I felt his tip align itself at my entrance. He didn't hesitate to push himself into me immediately filling me up. Something he'd never failed to do before.

I moaned as he began to move at a rather hasty pace. Not that I was complaining.

I pulled him back down making our lips meet once more while the noise of our bodies colliding echoed through the room.

"Faster" I mumbled into his mouth.

A familiar feeling pulling at the pit of my stomach. My orgasm becoming very close as Owen picked up speed. My legs wrapped around him as we struggled to stay in place.

"Owen" I moaned out as I came all over him. His orgasm hitting seconds later.

"Shit" He panted as he pulled out of me. Our liquids spilling out onto the comforter.

"Your calling for new sheets" I stated trying to regain my breath.

"That was so worth it baby" He spoke pecking my lips before getting off of me to go to the bathroom.

I smiled as he walked out with a towel, coming over to clean me up.

"I love Hawaii" He said making me giggle.

"Do you now? I wonder why?" I joked sitting up. Coming face to face with my boyfriend.

"But I love you more"

"Say more things like that and we'll be in bed the whole week" I spoke wrapping my arms around his neck. Giggling as he pushed me back onto the bed once more.

————

Up Next: Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Alex Mercer x Male Reader

Luke Patterson x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Jeremy Shada x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Reggie Peters x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Owen Patrick Joyner x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Carrie Wilson x Reader

————

@lolychu @headheartbellarke @bookish0918 @kcd15 @ifilwtmfc @moviesbooksandfandoms @lovesanimals @lavender-writer @kaitieskidmore1 @morganayennefertyrell @iloveteenwolf @ghostofmgg @jammi13 @theravenclawlife

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

FP//The Midnight Club (part 4)

hey! thats right, after the long awaited return, its back!!! and because i feel so terrible about leaving it for so long, the rest of the series is written too (and edited!!!), it just needs posting. anyway, i hope you like it!! and i hope it was worth the wait. seriously, thank you for being so patient, i love you all. (part 3)

In movies, Saturday detention always looks fun. Sneaking around, pouring your heart out to people you see everyday but know next to nothing about and making new life long friends. In reality, its spent doing a whole load of nothing.

You rest your chin in your hand and stare at the blank board ahead. You were the second one here, after Penelope Blossom and as soon as you walked through the door she sent you a disapproving look.

You and Penelope get on almost as well as you and Alice. She’s an annoying teachers pet that likes to write you up when she catches you and FP so much as holding hands.

The seat you chose when you got hear was a good one, near the back and away from Penelope. But then the rest of the your classmates turned up and suddenly you found yourself sat between FP and Alice, both of which were trying to kill each other with just looks. 

“Leave me alone FP.” You whisper. It’s the third time he’s tried to talk to you since he got here, and every time you’ve told him to go away. It seems finally he gets the hint and huffs loudly before leaning back in his chair.

You glance behind you to see Alice already looking at you and you send her a small, unsure smile. She just scoffs and looks down at her gloved hands, leaving you to stare at the top of her head.

“Welcome...to Saturday Detention.” Principal Featherhead’s loud but tired voice draws your attention the front of the class again and you force yourself to try and listen to whatever’s he’s droning on about, but in the 2 seconds its taken for him to let out a breath, you’ve tuned out.

It’s weird when the closest thing you have to a friend is Alice Smith. The rest are just acquaintances...and FP, who right now could be dead for all you care. You’re still not over last night. 

There’s clearly something going on between him and Alice, the more you think of it, the more it makes sense. And you’ve thought about it a lot, all of last night in fact. 

Your boyfriend knocked up Alice Smith...and then you. It makes you wonder if anybody else is expecting, you could make a little football team at this rate. 

It’s bad enough having Saturday detention, but it’s even worse that he’s here, especially when you’re running on less than an hours sleep. 

It’s just one Saturday. Eight hours, seven people with nothing in common.

Well, almost nothing.

The bad girl

“Alice Smith?”

The rebelling Catholic

“Hermione Gomez?”

The teachers pet

“Penelope Blossom?”

The artist athlete

“Fred Andrews?”

The political animal

“Sierra Samuels?”

The good girl

“Y/n Y/ln?”

And the ladies man

“Forsythe Pendleton Jones, Jr?”

You piece together the reasons everyone’s here. Alice and Penelope are here for fighting, something Alice told you about in detail last night, despite you wanting to sit in silence and watch Winona and Johnny fall in love. But you will admit...she did deserve it. 

Sierra and Hermione are probably here because they were in the bathroom just before you left, so they got caught in a wrong place, one time thing like you. The friend that you’re covering for isn’t even here, instead she’s probably in bed, or at Pop’s while you’re sat here taking the fall for her. 

Fred and FP were caught streaking, which was funny at the time. Seeing FP and Fred run down the corridor with no clothes on was a sight, made even funnier by Principal Featherstone catching them. But now you just want to slap the smirk that seems to permanently reside on FP’s face off. You have never hoped he has a hangover more.

“While you’re here today you will not talk.” Featherhead starts while making his way around the desks, handing out paper as he goes and you have to hold in a sigh. “You will not play” He says and snatches Fred’s drumsticks away, making the boy huff quietly and sit up straighter. “You will not move. I don’t even want you to breathe.”

“Charming.” Alice mutters and you stifle a laugh. Sierra clears her throat and everyone looks at her.

“Yes?”

“What if we have to pee?” She asks.

“You hold it, Miss Samuels. And at the end of the day, you will deliver a 1000-word essay as to why you’re here today.” He replies and you all let out a collective groan. “I will be right down the hall, in my office, all day long...cause I have nothing better to do.”

The clock reads 11am, meaning you’ve only been here for two hours and they’ve been the longest two hours of your life. Staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of you for so long has made your vision go weird so you  focus on the clock instead. You know why you’re here, ‘caught smoking’ is what you’ll have to write, despite the fact you were just holding it. But how are you supposed to stretch that into 1000 words?

A scratching behind you distracts you from your thoughts making you look behind you. Alice sits on the windowsill with a knife in her hand as she scratches against the wood.

“Dude, can you not?” Fred asks annoyed and she stops abruptly.

“Dude? Can you bite me?” She retorts. Fred rolls his eyes before turning back around.

“Oh, my God. Shh.” Penelope says loudly and now its your turn to roll your eyes.

“Psst. Sierra.” A different voice is a welcome distraction for all of you and everyone looks at the door, hoping and praying that its something exciting.

Tom Keller peeks his head round the door, a smile growing on his face when he spots Sierra and she quickly stands up, making her way towards him.

“Sit down. We’ll get in trouble.” Penelope scolds but Sierra ignores her.

“Tommy.” She smiles and the two of them kiss. Your eyes widen at the sight and you hear a few muffled gasps from the other students.

“Brought you some sustenance.” He says and waves a paper bag at her. She smiles again and grabs the bag from him, holding it close to her chest.

“Thank you.”

“I love you. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” She nods and kisses him again before he leaves as quickly as he came.

“Sierra?” Fred is the first to break the stunned silence. “You and Tom Keller?” She nods and he lets out a short laugh. “Guys we’ve been going to the same school since kindergarten. How do we not know anything about each other?”

“We’re not friends. Cliques don’t cross pollinate.” Penelope replies. “Haven’t you seen Heathers?”

“Well, we’ve got six or more hours to kill, and no one to impress. How about a round of Secrets and Sins?” Sierra says, a small twinkle in her eyes as she looks at each you.

You gulp and share a look with the rest of the group, yours and Alice’s lingering for a little longer than the rest.

Sierra is the first to sit down, an excited smile on her face as she watches the rest of you reluctantly sit. Fred’s next, and then Hermione who sits beside him. Penelope sits on the other side of Sierra, FP sits next to Fred and you sit beside him, making sure to put a good amount of distance in between you. Alice is the last to sit, doing it as dramatically as she can and earning an eye roll from Sierra and FP.

“I’ll start!” Sierra says. “Tommy and I have been secretly dating for a few months now.” She admits.  

“Why secretly?” Hermione asks.

“Our parents don’t want their children dating someone so...different. To use their euphemism of choice.” She replies, the previous happy smile is long gone. It’s replaced by sadness and she looks at the old, faded carpet, trying hard not to think too much of it. 

“My mom’s all up in my relationships, too.” Hermione adds. “You know Hiram Lodge?”

“Uh, yes.” Fred replies and a few of you giggle at his response. “Dude is ripped.”

“And a petty criminal.” Penelope mutters.

“He’s a self starter who provides for his family.” She defends. “But to my mom, he’s a scrub. ‘Thats the way to to the American Dream, mija.’ But what dream? She cleans hotel rooms in that stupid Five Seasons, 16 hours a day. Hiram’s got the right idea. Get out of Riverdale. No matter what you have to do.”

“Yeah.” Fred starts. “Except...Riverdale’s not the problem. Me? I wanna stay here my whole life.” He says making Sierra laugh and you shake your head. You can’t think of anything worse. 

Although now, you just might be stuck here. You’re destined to live in a crappy trailer, barely keeping it together and watching your friends move on with their lives. Oh god, the thought alone makes you want to cry and throw up all at the same time and you let out a shaky breath. Your hand automatically moves to your stomach as you try to slow your breathing. 

“Are you okay?” Fred asks and you force yourself to look at him, faking a smile and quickly dropping your hand to your thigh.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You nod. FP moves to hold your hand but you quickly pull it away, sending him a scowl and he quickly retracts his hand back. Fred notices of course, but decides to stay out of it, instead looking at the old carpet. Alice rolls her eyes at the two of you and looks straight at Fred. 

“Is that how longs its gonna take you to decide between music or baseball?” She asks and Fred flips her off.

“Our minor league is solid. And we’re close enough to the city to play music gigs. This towns got it all. Could even see myself running for mayor one day.” He says, and he’s the only person in this room that you believe could actually do that.

Fred Andrews is something different. He’s friendly to everyone, no matter where they come from or what they are. He’s somebody you wish you could be more like, and you can see him changing the world someday.

“Ugh. Nightmare job.” Sierra huffs. “Why not shoot for something bigger? You can do all those things in a real metropolis.”

“Yeah. Except look after my dad. He’s sick. Real sick. And he took care of me my whole life, so, now it’s my turn.” He replies, his expression saddening and a frown appears on your own face. Tears well behind your eyes and one rolls down your cheek. It lands on your hand and your curse your hormones for making you cry.

FP reaches out again but you just shuffle further away from him, wiping your tears as you go and he lets out an annoyed sigh.

Hermione places a comforting hand on Fred’s knee and he looks at it for a few seconds, seemingly getting lost in his thoughts for a while before quickly changing the subject.

“Alice, you’re up. What’s your deepest, darkest secret?”

The tension in the room shifts. Penelope, Sierra and Hermione share a look and you watch as FP and Alice glance at each other.  

“Um...”

“Lets skip her.” You interrupt and she sends you a glare.

“I don’t need your pity Y/n.”

“Alice just tell them about the time you lit a dumpster on fire on the southside” FP says bored.

“Wait, that was you?” You ask, earning a few confused looks from the rest of the group. You remember that fire, it caused quite the rage on the Southside because the serpents thought it was a rival gang seeing as though it was right outside of the Wyrm. “...FP told me.” You add quietly.

“Why don’t you tell them that you actually live in Sunnyside Trailer Park?” She replies and for a second you freeze, thinking she’s talking about you.

“I thought you lived on Elm Street.” Penelope says shocked and you realize she was actually talking to FP.

“Yeah, of course. Because it’s what Forsythe wants you to believe. You parade around the school in your varsity jacket like a Northsider. You even got yourself a northside girlfriend to help you fit in.” She says and looks at you. “But don’t kid yourself. You’ll never escape the Southside. You’re gonna end up just like your dad.”

“Alice.” You warn. He may have pissed you off, gotten you and some other girl pregnant, but he is not his father. He never will be and you feel yourself jumping to his defense quicker than you probably would have liked.

“Downing six-packs in your double-wide.” She continues, staring straight at him.

“Maybe, but I’m not gonna hit my kid. Not like my old man hits me.” He replies and looks at you, his eyes glancing at your stomach for a split second before looking back at her. The group goes silent, no one daring to look at each other and even you avoid eye contact with him.

“Oh really? Which one?” She laughs and you quickly look up. Everyone looks up surprised, but before they can question anything Alice storms out, slamming the door behind her.

Its quiet for a few minutes, before FP takes a deep breath and continues his story.

“I told him I didn’t wanna join his gang. That I wanted to be the first Jones to go to college. He didn’t like that.” He holds up his broken wrist. He hates the way they’re looking at him, like he’s broken, like he’s a victim. But he feels better when he feels your hand resting on top of his. “I guess he sort of got what he wanted. It looks like I won’t be going anyway.” He whispers the last part, turning his hand over and holding yours as best as he can.

“Okay. I guess I’m next.” Penelope interrupts the moment you’re having but you don’t let go. Instead you shuffle closer to him, you’re still pissed, beyond pissed even, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve a hug. “Fair is fair. The Blossoms. They’re...terrible people.”

“But, Penelope, you’re a Blossom.” Hermione replies confused.

“No, I’m not. Not really. I grew up at the Sisters of Quiet Mercy orphanage.”

“Oh, my God, Penelope. That place has like, violated every humanitarian code.” Sierra says.

“When I was eight, the Blossom’s came and asked to see all the red-headed children. The next thing I knew, I was leaving with them. I was so excited. I very quickly realized this was not an altruistic adoption. I was being groomed. To first be Clifford’s sister. Then, eventually, his life companion. Every second away from that house, even today, is a relief.”

“Why are you still living there?” You ask, genuinely curious as to why she would stay there.

“They’re my family.” She replies.

“That’s not family. It’s basically incest. It’s disgusting.” Hermione adds.

“At least I’m not cleaning other people’s toilets like your mom.” Penelope argues and Hermione stares at her annoyed, trying to think of an insult.

“Well, at least she has class. She’s not stealing child brides out of orphanages.” She spits and Penelope gasps.

The two of them start fighting and you hear Fred and Sierra complain before moving to separate them. FP stands and helps you up, quickly moving you out of the way and you end up backing into something much worse that an accidental punch. 

“Congratulations. You all just upped your sentence from Saturday detention...to four.”

[cienie-isengardu]

The Development of Law and Zoro relationship - Part VI: Wano, Against Emperors (The Untold Journey)

<<Part I: Before Meeting>> <<Part II: Sabaody Archipelago, The First Meeting>> <<Part III: Punk Hazard: The Alliance (A)__(B)>>  <<Part IV: Dressrosa, The Breaking Point (The Plan Failed)__ (Saving Law)__(Protecting Law)__ (Birdcage, Pica and Doflamingo)__ (Aftermath)>> <<Part V: Zou, The Kindred Spirits (Traveling Together)__(Searching for Nakama)__ (Reunion)__ (Ninja-Pirate-Mink-Samurai Alliance)__(The Last Moments before War)>>  <<Part VI: Wano, Against Emperors (The Untold Journey)__(Zoro & Luffy means Trouble)  ...>>

A word of introduction to the 6th part of The Development of Law and Zoro relationship: Wano arc is still an ongoing adventure and because of that, weeks if not months will pass before we learn all the details and its impact on the main characters and world as a whole. Right now, One Piece reached the 1000th chapter and from on, the Supernovas will finally face Big Mom and Kaido. It’s hard to tell if this will be their final battle or not and how much the author still has up his sleeve about Zoro and Law in regard to their relationship during this arc. I suspect some flashback may happen in the near future, especially since Luffy, Law and Zoro are going to fight arm to arm with Kid and Killer against the main target of the alliance - the Emperors. Because of that I can’t rule out the possibility that upcoming chapters could show the dynamic of Zoro and Law already analyzed by me in a different light yet I decided to slowly tackle the analysis of what was shown so far and eventually write an annex and/or correction if the future source material will bring any contradiction. 

Every part of the analysis so far got an individual subtitle from me, as a quick summary of Zoro and Law’s relationship stage. For example, Dressrosa Arc was the breaking point that in the visible way separated their neutrality (indifference?) from previous adventures and the clear comradeship presented from on. Wano is pretty hard to name properly so I went with the general “Against Emperors'' title. But frankly speaking, the Together But Separated so far would fit even better because from chapter 909 to 1000, Law and Zoro interacted directly or indirectly (including, having some thoughts about the other) for like, maybe 10 chapters at best. At the same time, most of the likely development of their relationship was happening offscreen - the journey to Wano that is basically omitted by the story so far and so is the time before Straw Hats went undercover. The upcoming confrontation with Emperors thankfully is going to change that. Because of lack of direct interaction I decided to write  also about A) Law and Straw Hats (especially Straw Hats men) and B) Supernovas to show how different it is from his and Zoro dynamic.

That said, time for a proper analysis!

.

.

.

The alliance separated into four groups. Luffy's team went to rescue Sanji and got into a fight with Big Mom. Zoro and Law became part of Kinemon’s team and headed to Wano Country scrambled in Law’s submarine. For now (up to chapter 1000), there was little to no detail or flashback about that time of journey, but who knows what future chapters will reveal. 

Despite the lack of proper information, some conclusions may be drawn on the basis of previously established informations and logic:

➽ On Zou, Law promised Kinemon a safe passage to Wano. Since shogun Orochi worked closely with Kaido, Beast Pirates posed an additional threat on this part of the sea. Another  problem was limited ways to enter the country by ocean. The hidden tunnel leading to Mogura Port was used only when Kaido or Orochi granted someone permission thus was out of question. The other known method was the Climbing Koi Waterfall which itself was a pretty dangerous method, especially since sea currents and weather there were all the time bad for sailing (chapter 910)

So far, there is no information how exactly Team Kinemon avoided or passed by the natural dangers nor how they entered the country (did they find another way underwater?).To get into the country without being spotted by the enemy the submarine most likely needed to be submerged for the majority if not all of the course since Zou alone was already targeted by Beast Pirates.

➽ It’s hard to tell how long the journey took from Zou to the samurai homeland - what depended on the Elephant’s location, submarine’s speed achieved while sailing or during the submergence and eventual obstacles on the way. The most telling time reference we have is that:

⟹ Luffy’s team needed “multiple (several) days” to reach Big Mom’s territory (chapter 823, 824). Nami said Luffy wasted a week’s food supply which also supports the claim that the journey was meant to last for more than one-two days.

⟹ Additionally, the enemy subordinates transporting Sanji to wedding (chapter 825) also needed “several days'' to cross the borderline of Big Mom’s territory and they left Zou two days before Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, Robin, Franky and Law get there. The Straw Hats spent at least two days before they separated into two groups, which gives the enemy four days of advantage. It feels like Big Mom’s pirates sailed around a week (4 day at minimum). 

⟹ Saving Sanji and fighting the Charlotte Family took another five days. On the fifth day, in the early morning the Straw Hats escape Totto Land (chapter 901)

⟹ While Luffy’s team sailed to Wano (chapter 903), manga showed the events happening at the same time in a different places, including the world leaders sailing to Mary Geoise for Reverie that last for a seven days. In chapter 904, it was said the conference would start in two days that have passed in chapter 908. Chapter 909 brings the storyline back to Wano and chapter 910 is the moment when Luffy’s team reach the country boardline. It seems safe to assume Luffy’s group took at least 2 days to reach Wano.

⟹ The journey from Zou to Whole Cake Island took Straw Hats several days but from Totto Land to Wano closer to two days.  

⟹ Jack the Drought’s return to Wano happened several days before Luffy’s arrival. Since “several” is an “indefinite number more than 2 or 3 but not many”(x), he most likely got there before Luffy left Big Mom’s territory. Of course that doesn’t tell much how long it took to sail from Zou to Wano, because Jack needed to be rescue from the bottom of sea first (after Elephant destroyed all ships of Beast Pirates on Momonosuke’s order, chapter 824) but at the same time it suggests that journey from Wano and back took days. To find Jack, the Kaido’s people most likely followed the vivre card - otherwise, how did they manage to find and rescue the person stuck deep underwater? And because they traveled through their captain’s territory, they didn’t need to avoid anyone in their journey, unlike the alliance. 

Though it’s impossible to determine how long time passed from Luffy leaving Zou to arriving in Wano, it was longer than a week yet the most likely shorter than a month. I feel like the safest bet is something around two weeks. When Luffy arrived in Wano, Zoro’s group was already working on their tasks yet the indirect information suggests that Kinemon’s group most likely traveled for a few(?) days rather than just hours. Whatever it was a few hours or one day or more, the Zoro and Law’s group was stuck in enclosed space deep under water for a while.

➽ The manga does not provide a precise scale to measure Thousand Sunny with Polar Tang. The closest in that matter are frames from Marineford and Dressrosa arcs

in which both Polar Tang and Thousand Sunny look tiny compared to Marine Battleship. It’s hard to tell for sure the difference in length but it’s not something truly drastic. Thousand Sunny uses a soldier dock system and the Coup de Burst in specific situations, relying mainly on sailing in a traditional way. Although Submarine is also equipped with sails, more often was shown during immersion. Both boats are equipped with some advanced technology though I suspect that engines and machinery for air circulation and heat (the basic life support equipment) built into Polar Tang may take some of space (that and at least some space was intended for the operating room). 

➽ Even if Law’s Polar Tang was spacious boat, it needed to accommodate Heart Pirates (Law and his 20 crewmembers), samurais (Kinemon, Momonosuke, Raizo and Kanjuro) and remaining part of Straw Hats (Zoro, Robin, Usopp, Franky). An eight additional people to feed and bunk somewhere, in case of a longer journey. For record, Thousand Sunny during its journey to Dressrosa carried only 9 Straw Hats and four additional people (Law, Momonosuke, Kinemon, Caesar Clown). Even if both ships are more or less of the same size, Sunny hadn’t been crowded like Polar Tang was while heading to Wano.

➽ In contrast to normally sailing Thousand Sunny, the submerged submarine has less space to find privacy (isolation) from the group or the noise. All members of Straw Hat crew have their personal space on the ship, be it Usopp’s Factory or Sanji’s kitchen or Zoro’s gym (lookout point). A place they may work in peace or relax. On Polar Tang, samurais and Straw Hats were the guests, thus on personal territory of other pirates. If they didn’t get along well, the journey could be awkward and uncomfortable. Most likely it wasn’t, considering how Heart Pirates were excited to meet their allies and the two crews already were partying together on Zou. At the same time, during that party, the lonely panel (evidence) showed only Usopp interacting with Penguin(?). Zoro was drinking with wolf Mink, while Robin, Franky and samurais weren’t there at all. The little bits of Law’s crew presented in the previous arc suggest they are more emotionally open and easy going people than their captain and both crews have a lot of stories to share and laugh about during their journey to bond over. Usopp and Franky most likely didn’t have any problem fitting into the new situation, but Zoro is a much more reserved, no-nonsense person than them, especially around strangers. Much more intimidating too. And the last journey with Bartolomeo’s crew proved how short-tempered he can be if surrounded by noisy and/or idiotic people for too long.

➽ Straw Hats for the first time had a chance to see Law on his turf. Up to this moment, they interacted on either neutral, enemy or Straw Hats’ home ground. Now the roles were reserved, Law was the host and captain of the submarine. Kinemon may be the leader of the team, but during the journey it was Trafalgar (and Heart Pirates) that guaranteed safety and took responsibility for the wellbeing of the rest. Straw Hats were the ones who needed to adapt to the situation (like not getting in the way of Heart Pirates when the crew performed their duties) and trust Heart Pirates’ navigation skills.

➽ Adding to that, all the additional 8 people weren’t really accustomed to traveling underwater for longer period of time. Of course, Straw Hats had some experiences with the little submarine built by Franky but from all of them (beside maybe Franky himself), only Robin, at least manga-wise, took part in submerging search for Fishman Island, two years earlier - what was seen in chapter 490. And was apparently aware of the danger submerging too deeply.

All Straw Hats experienced submerging to Fishman Island but according to Nico, it was “nothing like a submarine” and it felt like they were “flying through the air” (chapter 604).

Which may imply that traveling in Law’s submarine was very new and/or different experiences to what Straw Hats knew.

➽ Also, out of 8 people, half were devil fruit users. We may only wonder how spending hours/days underwater could affect samurais (who were still catching up with the technological change that happened in the last 20 years) and Robin - and depending on the result, affecting Zoro, Usopp and Franky. Like was mentioned above, Robin already had some experiences with submerging but we must remember that “Shark Submerge III” was built by Franky, thus trusted to be a safe way of exploring the ocean while Polar Tang was totally new, alien territory belonging to other pirate crew. Once again, we don’t know how long the journey lasted and how enclosed and crowded space was and how being trapped for a longer period of time under water was affecting devil fruit users. Claustrophobia and panic attacks could happen at any moment, even more if the submarine was attacked by sea monsters or flowed into an excessively strong current. Law presumably was used to the feeling and enclosed space by now but at the same time, his crew so far doesn’t seem to have any other devil fruit user beside him. Traveling together with so many (inexperienced) stranger devil fruit users could be much more exhausting than it seemed at first glance.

➽➽ Frankly, the additional scene in episode 490 showed that:

A) living conditions on the submarine can be affected by external factors. In this case, the submarine going through an underwater volcanic(?) region caused the rise of temperature inside the boat and thus brough discomfort to Heart Pirates. 

B) The living conditions worsened to the point Bepo was suffering overheating. He admitted “I hate riding the submarine. Spending several hours in a cramped area together with these scruffy guys.” and even kinda bullied Penguin and Shachi into submarine ascent so he could breath with fresh air.

We don’t know much about the underwater region(s) between Zou and Wano but manga mentioned at least strong sea currents. Depending how deep the submarine could - or rather needed - to submerge, the outside temperature (and pressure) of water could affect traveling people. Generally, the deeper into the ocean, the temperature is lower while the hydrostatic pressure increases. Of course, waters of the Grand Line are unpredictable and there was no one in the group that knew for sure what awaited them during underwater travel. So if even experienced Heart Pirate like Bepo, who according to SBS (vol. 84, chapter 840) met Law shorty after Cora’s death and is his friend since then thus we may assume has the same years of experiences with submarine, could be so affected by heat, cramped area and hours of traveling underwater with “scruffy guys”, the possibility of happening something similar to Straw Hats or Samurais can’t be excluded.

➽ In contrast to the uncertain situation of devil fruit users, Franky and Usopp most likely were smitten with all the technology of the submarine and bonding over it with Heart Pirates. In addition, both men were friendly by nature.

➽ Zoro, sadly, wouldn't have much to do there. No lookout point available, no guarding ship, no way for a serious trening or real fight with Law or samurais (to avoid destroying the submerged boat). Did he happily sleep or drink through the journey or did he grow restless at some point, we don’t have any clue so far. At the same time, Zoro wasn’t on his (safe) ship, had other Straw Hats (and samurais) to look after, didn’t have anything important to do (no real duties, no knowledge how to maintain submarine) and unhealthy habit of sleeping barely 3 hours per day that could finally took its toll. Though looking at Law’s dark circles under eyes, his sleeping habits may not be better than Zoro's .

In general, the alliance journey to Wano could provide a lot of interesting and important details about the development of Law and Zoro relationship, especially since for the first time in the four arcs, Law was on his home ground and had better control over the course of events. At the same time, his dorky crew could tell many stories of their (and Law’s) past or previous adventures. There were also matters of Wano to discuss, but also no place to run away if Zoro wanted some distance from noisy Law’s crewmembers - on Thousand Sunny Law at least could choose to sleep on the ship deck instead of being cramped with others in the men quarter. Straw Hats and samurais didn’t have such luxury.

Zoro and Law could learn something new about each other or simply fall into an already established dynamic or even get tired of each other after being forced to spend time together in enclosed space. Sadly, so far manga did not provide anything useful about their journey.

The next part: Zoro & Luffy Means Troubles...

[obtusemedia]

Ranking Lady Gaga's albums, from worst to best

Being a Lady Gaga fan can be an exercise in frustration.

Gaga is far more ambitious than most popstars — I doubt we’ll ever see Ariana Grande or Ed Sheeran make an album as left-field as Born This Way or ARTPOP. But she's also far less consistent, with numerous misbegotten projects.

Gaga's undeniably successful, with five #1 hits, an Oscar and multiple iconic music videos to her name. But her messy album rollouts and tradition of underperforming lead singles make her feel like an underdog compared to the more polished, precise careers of her contemporaries like Taylor Swift, Beyoncé or Bruno Mars.

Gaga is kind of a mess. But she's our mess. This album ranking will cover some records I can't stand — albums that make me constantly hit the fast-forward button, or albums I ignore altogether. But there isn't a single record on here that wasn't a bold move. Even the "back to basics" albums made strong aesthetic choices.

So let's dive into the career of the most fascinating Millennial popstar.

#8: Cheek To Cheek (2014)

This really shouldn't count. It's a Lady Gaga album in name only. But, technically it's a Gaga album, so here we are.

I've got nothing against Gaga having fun playing Rat Pack-era dress-up with Tony Bennett. She's a theatre kid at heart, and I'm sure every theatre kid would kill to make a Great American Songbook covers record like this. It sounds like she and Tony enjoyed themselves, so I'm happy for them!

...but I'm sorry. I can't be objective about Cheek To Cheek, it's the opposite of my taste. There's only so many bland lounge ballads I can take.

BEST SONGS: I have to pick one? "Anything Goes" is cute, I guess.

WORST SONG: "Sophisticated Lady"

#7: A Star Is Born (2018)

Let me first make this clear — A Star Is Born, the movie starring Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga? It's a masterpiece. It's electrifying and tragic and I'm still upset it didn't sweep the Oscars that year. There's even a cute dog! You won't hear me say a bad word about it.

But A Star Is Born, the accompanying soundtrack? It's extremely hit-and-miss.

Yes, it includes arguably Gaga's best-ever song and one of the greatest movie hits ever written, "Shallow." And there's plenty of other great tunes in the tracklist too — "Always Remember Us This Way," "I'll Never Love Again," the "La Vie En Rose" cover.

Even the country-rock songs from Bradley Cooper (who, reminder, is not a professional singer) are mostly good! "Black Eyes" RIPS, and "Maybe It's Time" feels like a long-lost classic.

But sadly, there are so many mediocre filler tracks on this thing. The second half of A Star Is Born's hour-plus runtime (Gaga's longest!) is padded with generic songs like "Look What I've Found," "Heal Me" and "I Don't Know What Love Is." The only good one out of the bunch is the silly, intentionally-bad "Why Did You Do That?"

In the movie, these filler tracks serve a point – they're meant to show Gaga's character selling out. They work in the movie when you hear them for a few seconds and see Cooper make a drunkly disappointed scowl. But I don't want to listen to them, and sadly, they make up half the album.

In other words — A Star Is Born would've made an incredible six or seven-song EP. But as an 63-minute-long record? It's a slog.

BEST SONGS: "Shallow", "Always Remember Us This Way," "Maybe It's Time"

WORST SONG: "Heal Me"

#6: Joanne (2016)

After Born This Way and ARTPOP, I get why Gaga needed to make a more lowkey, back-to-basics album. I also understand that many of these songs have extremely personal lyrics for her.

But is a down-to-earth album what I really want from our most outré popstar? Not really.

Luckily, Joanne is better than that description suggests. Yes, there are some bland acoustic ballads and awkward hippie-era throwbacks (two styles that are really not in Gaga's wheelhouse), but there's also some Springsteen-style heartland rockers! And those go hard in the paint.

Joanne works best when Gaga works the record's dusty aesthetics into her brand of weirdo pop, like on the sizzling "John Wayne," the winking "A-YO" or the delightfully extra Florence Welch duet "Hey Girl."

The record also has "Perfect Illusion" — a glorious red herring of a lead single that sounds nothing like anything else on Joanne. It's a roided-up mixture of woozy Tame Impala production and hair metal histrionics, and it rules. It might be Gaga's best-ever lead single! (at the very least, it's her most underrated.)

And there is one slow tune that's unambiguously great: "Million Reasons," another solid Gaga lighters-in-the-air power ballad pastiche.

Despite what some Little Monsters may tell you, Joanne isn't a disaster. There's some great stuff in there, and even the worst songs are just forgettable. But it's still far from her best.

BEST SONGS: "Perfect Illusion," "Diamond Heart," "Million Reasons"

WORST SONG: "Come To Mama"

#5: Chromatica (2020)

When Chromatica was released near the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, it had been seven years since Gaga had released music in her classic gonzo-synthpop vein. I can easily picture the record serving as an "ugh fine, I'll give you what you want" response to the many Little Monsters annoyed with Gaga's half-decade of folksy ballads and Julie Andrews cosplay.

I'll say this about Chromatica — outside of The Fame Monster, it's her most consistent record. There's not a single track that's a glaring mistake. And the three singles — "Stupid Love," "911" and the triumphant Ariana Grande duet "Rain On Me" — easily stand among her best tracks.

But although "all bangers, no ballads" album sounds rad in theory, it doesn't really succeed in practice. Chromatica is solid, but it's also a very same-y record. It feels like Gaga had one really great idea for the album ('90s club music with super-depressing lyrics) and repeated it over and over and over again to diminishing results.

There are some songs that are able to separate themselves: the three singles, of course, as well as the goofy "Babylon" and "Sine From Above," the Elton John duet that's the closest Chromatica gets to a ballad. But by the end of the album, you feel more worn out than electrified.

Also — and this is probably unfair, but still — Chromatica came out just a couple months after another retro-dance blockbuster pop album: Dua Lipa's magnum opus, Future Nostalgia. That's not a flattering comparison.

BEST SONGS: "Rain On Me," "Stupid Love," "911"

WORST SONG: "1000 Doves"

#4: The Fame (2008)

Out of all of Gaga's records, The Fame is most like a time capsule. It REEKS of late '00s/early '10s pop — which isn't an entirely fair criticism, seeing as Gaga popularized that era's sleazy, synthy aesthetic. It's also not a bad thing! I don't mind a little nostalgia!

As you already know, The Fame's singles are masterworks. "Just Dance," "Poker Face," "Paparazzi" — these tracks have titanic legacies for good reason. And although it's probably the least-beloved of this album's hits, despite being a total banger, "LoveGame" should still be commended for having arguably the most Gaga lyric ever (you know, the "disco stick" line).

And even though those tracks are front-loaded on The Fame, there are some gems deeper in the tracklist. "Summerboy" is basically Gwen Stefani covering The Strokes (so obviously, it's great). "Eh, Eh" is adorable. "Starstruck" is the most 2008 song ever recorded, with aggressive Auto-Tune and Flo Rida showing up to make Starbucks jokes.

Sadly, The Fame still feels like Gaga before she became fully-formed at certain points. The back half has a number of songs that feel like generic club tracks forced by the label, and "Paper Gangsta" is one of the clunkiest songs in Gaga's catalogue.

But at the very least, the bad songs on The Fame at least serve as little nostalgia bombs for that era of pop. And the best songs are untouchable classics.

BEST SONGS: "Paparazzi," "Just Dance," "Summerboy"

WORST SONG: "Paper Gangsta"

#3: ARTPOP (2013)

For much of Gaga's career, she's been ahead of the curve. She tries something, and a year or a few years later, other popstars try something similar to diminishing results.

That doesn't just apply to the successful stuff, like Gaga's extravagant music videos inspiring many copycats from 2010-2013. It also applies to the mid-late '10s trend of legacy popstars making a controversial record with risky aesthetic or lyrical choices that backfired: reputation. Witness. Man of The Woods.

Gaga did this first, with ARTPOP — arguably the most abrasive, and bizzare major label album released by a major modern popstar. And she did it better, because unlike Swift, Perry and Timberlake, Gaga's weirdness was for real. And it was in service of some prime, hyper-aggressive bangers.

ARTPOP isn't Gaga's best work — some of her experiments on it are major misfires, from the obnoxious "Mary Jane Holland" to the bland Born This Way leftover (and Romani slur-utilizing) "Gypsy."

But when ARTPOP is on, it's ON. The opening stretch in particular, from "Aura" to "Venus" to "G.U.Y." to "Sexxx Dreams," is chaotic synthpop at its finest. Those songs took Gaga's classic sound to an apocalyptic, demented extreme, and they're fantastic.

"MANiCURE" is a great glam-rock banger, "Dope" is another classic Gaga piano ballad, the title track is some sikly-smooth dreampop; even the misguided, clunky trap anthem "Jewels N' Drugs" is bad in a hilarious, charming way!

Trust me: ARTPOP will go down in history not as a flop, but as a gutsy, underrated record from a legend. Less Witness, more In Utero.

BEST SONGS: "G.U.Y.," "Venus," "Sexxx Dreams"

WORST SONG: "Gypsy"

#2: The Fame Monster (2009)

Objectively speaking, this is probably the best Gaga album.

It's her one record with no fluff, no filler — only 34 minutes and 8 tracks, all of them stellar.

It's the record that took Gaga from "wow, this new woman is a fresh new face in pop!" to "this woman IS pop."

It's the record with her signature track, "Bad Romance," which was accompanied by arguably the greatest music video of the 21st Century. (It also has my absolute favorite Gaga track, the relentlessly catchy "Telephone.")

I don't think I need to explain what makes mega-smashes "Bad Romance" and "Telephone" and "Alejandro" great, nor the accompanying legendary deep cuts "Speechless" and "Dance In The Dark." They speak for themselves.

However — the sleek, calculated perfection of The Fame Monster, while incredible, isn't something I return to often. It's just not the side of Gaga that's my favorite. That honor would have to go to...

BEST SONGS: "Telephone," "Dance In The Dark," "Bad Romance"

WORST SONG: "So Happy I Could Die" (but it's still pretty solid)

#1: Born This Way (2011)

One of my favorite podcasts is Blank Check. The concept of the show is to analyze each movie by a famous director — in particular, those who had big success early on and then got a blank check to make whatever crazy passion project they wanted. Here's a great example: because Batman was a massive hit, Tim Burton got to make whatever Hot Topic-core movies he wanted to for decades, from Edward Scissorhands to a creepy Willy Wonka remake.

That long-winded tangent is just to say: Born This Way was Lady Gaga's blank check. By early 2011, she had conquered the pop universe, notching hit after hit after hit. Every other pop star was copying her quirky music videos. So the label let Gaga do whatever she wanted — and she didn't waste that opportunity.

Born This Way is wildly overproduced. It's both extremely trend-chasing (those synths were cutting edge at the time but charmingly dated now), but also deeply uncaring about what the teens want (I don't think Springsteen and Queen homages were big at the time). And I love every messy, overblown second of it.

From the hair-metal/synthpop hybrid opener "Marry The Night" to the majestic '80s power ballad "The Edge of Glory," Born This Way starts at an 11. And Gaga never takes her foot off the pedal for the album's entire hour-plus run time. Clanging electric guitars, thunderous synths and Clarence Clemons (!!!) sax solos collide into each other as Gaga champions every misfit and loser in the world. It's gloriously corny in the best way possible.

Born This Way is also the perfect middle ground of pop-savvy Gaga and gonzo Gaga. It doesn't go quite as hard as ARTPOP, but the hooks are stronger. And the oddball moments are tons of fun, from the sci-fi biker anthem "Highway Unicorn" to the goofy presidential-sex banger "Government Hooker" ("Put your hands on me/John F. Kennedy" might be the greatest line in pop history).

Born This Way will always be my favorite Gaga album. It's armed with nuclear-grade hooks, slamming beats, and soaring anthems. Although it's not as untouchably pristine as the Mt. Rushmore of '10s pop classics (for the record, that's 1989, EMOTION, Lemonade and, of course, Melodrama), Gaga isn't best served by meticulousness. She's proudly tacky and histrionic, and so that's what makes Born This Way an utter joy.

BEST SONGS: "The Edge of Glory," "You and I," "Marry The Night"

WORST SONG: "Bloody Mary"

[padfootagain]

A Very Rose Mistake (IV)

Part 4: How You Became Lambkin

 Here we go for a new chapter! This is cute, but also, an important chapter for many reasons! The plot is now starting to unfold!!

No warnings of any kind to apply here, really, it's just rather innocent and cute. I hope you like this new chapter! Tell me what you think about it!

Word Count: 3911

I

Holmes Chapel, 2007

 Shakespeare was a pain.

Maybe it was still relevant if you went to the theatre and saw professionals actually perform the play, but from the point of view of two 13 years old who had to read the plays for school… it was a pain.

Besides the language being old, there was also the fact that tons of the words on the page had just been made up. Or at least, it sounded that way. Because Harry had most certainly never heard any of those being used before and he had better things to do with his time than try and guess the meaning of these words. Playing football was one of them. And there was no way his mother would let him out of the house before he would have finished his homework.

There was only one way he could get to the pitch on time to play tonight with his friends. He had to ask for the help of the brightest mind he knew.

He got up from his bed where he was lying down with his copy of Henry V covering his face. He let the book fall on his bed while he reached for the piece of red glass that rested on the side of his window. He aimed at the sun, until the reflection of the light on the glass would dance over your own window. The perks of having his best friend living in the house right next to his: it was easy to reach you.

And indeed, it took you less than a minute to appear before you would appear on the other side of your own window. He couldn't help but grin at the sight.

Harry grabbed a piece of cardboard from behind his desk, that he had already prepared. One of the messages that you often used and both had kept, ready, just in case you would need them.

Help with homework?

He saw you laughing and shaking your head, but you grabbed your own cardboard, large enough to hide you completely behind it.

My place?

He merely nodded with a big goofy grin on his face, before grabbing his bag, his book and heading to the living room.

"Mum!" he called, thumping through the hall.

"Yes, I am not deaf," Anne laughed at her son.

"Can I go over to Y/N's to do my homework with her?"

"To do your homework or play videogames?"

"I have a match tonight."

"Ha… so it's really for homework then! Sure, you can go. Bring some snacks if you want, I bought some cookies, the ones she likes."

"Thanks mum! I'll go directly to the field when I'm done…"

"No, you won't. You're going to come back here to drop off your stuff and to get changed and then you'll go to the field."

He heaved a sigh, but complied without arguing.

"Okay. Bye!"

"Love you!"

But Harry was already slamming the front door shut and sprinting towards your house. Your mother was waiting for him with her door open and an amused smile on her face.

"Hello, Harry! How are you today?"

"Great! Thank you, Mrs. Y/L/N!"

"Y/N's in her bedroom. Do you want to bring up some snacks?"

"I've brought some cookies my mum bought today."

"How nice! Well, go ahead then!"

"Thanks!"

He took off his shoes, placing them in the space that was saved for him in the hall, before sprinting up the stairs to your room.

He closed the door behind him.

"Hey! Thanks, I'm struggling with this bloody play!"

You merely chuckled, resting your back against your wall as you sat on your bed.

"It's alright, I haven't started that one yet."

"Have you done maths already?"

"Yep! Just finished."

"Me too. But that English stuff… ugh…"

He climbed on your bed by your side, dragging behind him his notebook, pencils and his Shakespearean play.

Harry gave you some time to catch up with him on the assignment, although he hadn't done much yet. You then spent some time trying to analyse the text and answer the questions on your assignment about the scene.

Harry was annoyed to say the least.

"What are these words, even…" he groaned.

"Come on… some are cute… 'lambkin', that's cute!"

"Lambkin?! You think calling your girlfriend lambkin is cute?"

"I do. It's sweet!"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Alright, then, I'll call you that from now on. We'll see for how long you find it cute."

You exploded in laughter, the sound enough to erase his grumpy frown.

"That's not fair! I would be the only one with a ridiculous nickname like that!" you protested.

"You are not calling me lambkin. Ever."

"Alright," you shook your head at his silly remark. "After we're done with this, we'll look for a nickname for you."

"I'm going to the field after, I'm playing with the guys."

"That just means I'll choose whatever I want to laugh at you!"

"Wow… scary… lambkin."

You narrowed your eyes at each other, and you considered his banter as a challenge.

"You're gonna regret that, Styles."

"Oh, am I, lambkin?"

But you could only keep up the serious act for a few more seconds, before you both let go and were lost in a fit of laughter.

You did manage to finish your homework on time for Harry to go play football with the guys. You spent the rest of your allowed time before a screen looking for old and ridiculous nicknames to use against Harry on your computer.

You eventually found the perfect one.

His phone beeped after he was back home, about to go to bed. He had changed in his pyjamas and was about to turn off the lights for the night when the sound rang through the room.

"Harry! Go to bed, you have school tomorrow," Anne ordered, as she was passing by in the corridor right at that moment.

"I am going to bed! It's Y/N!"

"If you're not in bed in five minutes…"

"I am going!"

He checked your text all the same.

Y/N: I've found your nickname. You are chuckaboo.

He snorted, answering once he was buried under his blankets.

Harry: What does that even mean?

He put his phone on silence to avoid his mother hearing your response.

Y/N: It's a term of endearment to call a friend. Fits just right. Plus, I think it suits you, chuckaboo.

Harry: You'd better not call me like that at school.

Y/N: Oh, I will :)

He laughed, despite feigning anger in his next response. You merely replied with another smiley face, and wished him good night.

He went to sleep with an amused smile on his face.

It was just a joke, it would last for a few days before you would both grow tired of it. Stupid nicknames that would make you laugh for a while. Or so he thought, at least.

Lambkin and Chuckaboo.

What a ridiculous pair…

II

Loch Lomond, 2020

Harry kept on holding your hand as you settled around the large table that had been set for your family. The atmosphere was more relaxed as you waited for Amy and her family to join all of you over dinner. Your mom and you sat between your father and Harry, a protection of some sort against the nasty glances that your dad kept on throwing at your fake boyfriend. Dinner was merry, and Amy's family provided a nice distraction for your own family members to focus on. Harry spent most of the evening lost in a deep conversation with Amy's grandfather about 'the music back then', and he seemed to blend in just fine, not that you had ever had any doubt that he would.

One chair though had been left empty. In the large hall decorated with flickering lights, the view upon the loch growing darker and darker as the hours passed, until there was nothing left to see but the stary sky, there was one empty spot. It was for one of Amy's cousins, who had to work late at the hospital in Glasgow, where he worked as a nurse, apparently. Patrick, was his name, and he was set to sit right opposite you. It's only when you were waiting for dessert that he appeared.

And you struggled quite a bit to hide your reaction.

Because Patrick was handsome. Patrick was very handsome. Patrick was also 1000% your type.

And Patrick was set right across from you around the long, rectangular table.

He gave a kiss to his family, was introduced properly by an Amy that was on her way to getting from tipsy to drunk, and he seemed a little embarrassed by her antiques as she praised him for his work in medicine and called all who were single around the table to 'give him a ring'. And you found it cute.

You decided it was your duty, as you were the person sitting across from him, to make some small talk. Anyway, your parents were entertaining a conversation of their own that you weren't particularly interested in, and Harry and Amy's grandfather were lost in a vivid argument about Carole King's best song on Tapestry.

"I'm Y/N!" you introduced yourself with a welcoming smile. "Cassie's cousin."

"Oh, so we're the cousins then! Nice to meet you!" he greeted you with a warm smile as well.

And he had a nice smile. Very nice smile, indeed…

"So… you're a nurse then!"

He ran a hand in his hair, embarrassed.

"Yeah, I am. Sorry about her rant, I think she's had too much to drink."

"It's her wedding, I reckon she has the right to have a little fun."

"I guess. And what do you do for a living?"

You were interrupted by the dessert arriving, and you waited for the waiters to have left to answer.

"I'm studying for a PhD in history."

"Oh, wow."

He seemed genuinely impressed, which was always nice to hear. You waited for the next question to strike what do you do with a PhD in history, but it didn't come. Instead he asked another question, seeming genuinely interested.

"What is your thesis about?"

"The influence and impact of the XIXth century international exchanges and relations on modern politics."

"Wow."

"It's a mouthful," you joked, nodding your head.

"No, no! It sounds very interesting! Where do you study."

"California. But before that I got my degree in Oxford."

"Dear God… I'm sitting in front of the next Nobel Prize."

You laughed, shying away.

"No, absolutely not. Besides, I don't even think there is one to congratulate historians."

"A shame. I would have bet on you."

You did notice the way he shot you a shy smile. And you did notice the way he didn't look away, and didn't look for another conversation to settle into. He was focused on you while you ate your dessert, and you did the same.

Your conversation went on when the coffees and teas were served. And you had to admit that you liked it that way. He was charming, with a cute Scottish accent, and eyes that glimmered in the yellowish light of the room.

It's only when your cup of coffee was empty that Harry took your hand in his again, planting your feet right back to Earth, and reminding you of what you were here for in the first place.

He gave you a smile, before guiding your hand up to his lips to place a kiss over your knuckles, surprising you with the tender gesture and making your heart rush a little more as he looked at you with the tenderest of gazes.

"Are you tired, babe? Or would you like to take a walk with me? I could use some fresh air."

Your heart stumbled a little at the pet name, and you didn't like it. You didn't like it one bit, so you forced the organ to stop its little dance.

"Sure."

You bid everyone a good night -and did notice the disappointed look Patrick gave you as you abruptly ended your conversation in order to leave with Harry - and some other people retreated to their rooms at the same time as you, while you followed Harry outside.

It was cold outside, a heavy wind sweeping skeleton leaves to gather at your feet. You could hear the shushed rumble of conversations on the other side of the windows and the wind caught in the branches and lifting the water of the loch in clapping waves. Harry offered you his arm, and as you noticed that you could still be seen from the table inside, you took it with a grateful smile.

You walked along the shore in silence for a few minutes, your gaze distracted from the dark path by the shining lights above your head, but you weren't worried about falling, not when you were holding Harry's arm. He would catch you before you could fall.

He finally heaved a sigh.

"Well, that wasn't a complete disaster. It went better later on, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I reckon that once the shock had passed, it was alright," you nodded.

"Except for you father, of course. Judging by the way he was eyeing me all night, he probably will try to cut off my balls before the end of the week."

You laughed at that, the sound clear and joyful, luminous over the dark scenery that surrounded you. But the reflexions of the stars over the water was lovely all the same. They seemed brighter to Harry as your laughter echoed a little longer around both of you.

"He's not so fond of the idea. Don't know why."

Harry shrugged.

"Must think I'm not good enough for you."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

"Anyway… I think we're getting away with it."

"Getting the hang of it, babe?"

"Oh, shut up, chuckaboo."

"Ha, here you are again, back to your normal self. Will you start punching me next?"

"I've never punched you!"

"But you've threatened to do so dozens of times."

"I am very good at boxing."

His smile grew more tender, a little melancholic as well, but you attributed it to the quiet of the place that surrounded you. You were away from the lodge now, enough so for voices to have disappeared. It was only you, Harry, and the whisper of autumn leaves now.

"You're good at everything, Y/N."

There was a moment of silence, while you stared at him. But then, his expression grew a little mischievous, and he faked to be lost in thought.

"Except at cooking, and singing, and playing guitar, and most definitely climbing, and gymnastics, and…"

"Yeah, okay, I get it, you jerk!" you stopped him, punching his arm, although your gesture wasn't violent enough to hurt. Still, Harry dramatically held his arm as if you had thrown him your stronger uppercut.

"See, I knew it! Knew you would end up doing it for real, instead of only threatening me with your punches!"

"Well, you should shut up before I do it again."

"You're so cruel, lambkin," he tried to sound convincing, but the goofy smile upon his lips betrayed his thoughts.

You shook your head at him, wheezing.

You walked in silence for a little longer, before deciding to go back to the lodge. You were still holding Harry's arm, even if no one was around to see the two of you pretend. None of you acknowledge the fact, merely choosing to act as if you weren't. Maybe, a voice in your mind explained it by acting in case someone would bump into the two of you. You knew it wasn't the truth though, but you pretended that it was for the few minutes more that the gesture lasted while you walked on the edge of the water and under the tall trees.

"So… Patrick?" Harry asked after a long silence.

"He's nice!" you answered with a smile. "He's a nice chap!"

"Hmm," Harry nodded. "You did seem to have fun with him tonight. Even thought that maybe you didn't need my services anymore."

"Pfft! Don't be ridiculous! I've just talked with him for 5 minutes."

"Almost an hour, actually."

You narrowed your eyes at him.

"You counted?"

He rolled his eyes at you.

"I just noticed it was a long conversation."

"Hmm…"

"You know, we can still tell the truth to everyone, and you can take your shot with Patrick."

You didn't know how to describe the tone he used to say the man's name, but it wasn't oozing with fondness, that was for certain. You looked at him suspiciously, a smirk creeping its way to your lips.

"Are you… jealous?"

"Jealous? Me?"

"You're the jealous type, don't deny it."

"And don't flatter yourself. We're not really together, remember? Why would I be jealous."

"I don't know, but you sound like you are."

"I'm not jealous."

"Good."

"But do you like him?"

You shrugged.

"I don't know. I think he's attractive. I think he's nice. So…"

"You like him."

"He's alright so far. And he is my type."

Harry raised an eyebrow, before his features molded into a frown instead. His mind couldn't help but compare himself to Patrick, and point out everything that was different between them.

"Am I your type?" he asked after a long silence.

You laughed, taken aback.

"What kind of question is that?"

He shrugged.

"I don't know. Just wondering. I'm playing your boyfriend for a week, but… would I be your type? Had I not met you when we were five and crashed your ice-cream into your face… had you met me tonight instead of Patrick… would you have thought that I was your type?"

You looked away, finally letting go of his arm, and the lack of contact between your two bodies made Harry regret his question.

"I don't know," you lied, before finding back your composure, and shooting him a smile. "But you're my boyfriend for this week. So for the next seven days, you are most definitely my type, honey."

He laughed, shaking his head. You had walked back to the lodge, and he opened the door for you, dramatically bowing before you to let you through first.

"After you, my love."

Harry went first to take a shower, and then it was your turn. Some warm water was just what your tired muscles needed to relax after your busy day. When you walked out of the bathroom, a little bit of fog following you through the door, Harry was lying on the bed, atop the blankets, scrolling on his phone.

He had changed into a comfortable jumper and a pair or pyjama pants that seemed warmed and soft. His curls were still damped, wetting his pillow, but he didn't seem to mind it at all.

He looked up when you stepped out of the bathroom though, and you didn't fail to notice the way his eyes settled on your legs before hurrying to your face while his cheeks blushed.

Your pyjama shorts weren't that short at all, stopping right above your knees. Still, it seemed enough to make Harry's cheekbones and ears turn crimson. You wore an old Treat People With Kindness jumper too, matching his grey hoodie.

"You're alright, Harry?" you asked, rather puzzled by his reaction.

"Sure, why?"

"You're blushing."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"It's nothing. I'm just tired."

You weren't convinced, but chose to drop the subject, your own fatigue weighing on you. So you shrugged instead, finishing to get ready for bed.

You slipped under the covers and heaved a sigh as your head hit the pillow.

"Tired?" he asked, and you could only hum and nod in response.

He hesitated for a second, while you closed your eyes.

"There's an extra blanket. I can sleep on top of the covers, and you under them, if you want."

You opened your eyes again to look at him.

"Would that make you feel more comfortable?"

He considered your question, and shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe?"

"I don't really care. But… maybe for tonight, you can do that. Won't you be cold though?"

"It's quite warm in here. And the blanket looks cosy."

"Alright, but don't hesitate to get under the covers if you're too cold. I don't mind if you do."

"Okay," he nodded, before getting up to get the blanket.

He lied down by your side again, getting comfortable, before he would turn off the lamp on his nightstand, and you did the same, letting darkness take over every inch of the room, looking darker than it really was as your eyes got used to the shadows.

"Goodnight Harry."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

You turned to your side, trying to get comfortable too, and your foot gently bumped into his through the layers of sheets and blankets as you moved.

"Sorry," you quipped, moving your foot away.

"'S okay," he replied, his voice lower than usual.

You let silence settle for a while, but it felt strange. Awkward. There was something unspoken hovering above the two of you, you could cut the tension in the air with a knife.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"I feel weird."

"Weird? You mean sick?" he asked with worry in his tone now.

"No, I mean… it's a little weird sleeping next to you. Why though? We've done that since we were six."

He shrugged, but couldn't deny that he was feeling the same. His heart was beating so fast, he was worried you would hear it in the silent night.

"Maybe it's because we're not children anymore," he whispered.

You hummed in response.

"And we haven't done it in a long time too," you added, and he heard you nodding, your cheek brushing against your pillow.

He took a deep breath before speaking again, his tone hesitant.

"Do you… would you feel better if I took the couch?"

You considered his offer, but shook your head.

"No, I… I don't feel uncomfortable. It's just… strange."

It was his turn to hum.

"Would you feel better on the couch?" you asked him.

"No, it's… it's a nice weird."

"Yeah, it is."

"I'm just… it makes me a little nervous."

"Nervous?"

He made a face, that you couldn't see, but you would have found it adorable if you had.

"I'm afraid I'll wake you up with my snoring. Or speak some nonsense in my sleep. Or you wake up tomorrow morning and see me drooling, with saliva all over my face."

You laughed at him, reaching in the dark to touch his arm. You patted the muscles tenderly.

"Don't worry, chuckaboo. I've seen worse! Seen you throwing up a fair amount of time. Also, I'll just punch you again to wake you up if you start snoring too much."

He laughed, and both of your laughter mingling through the room made most of the tension in the room disappear.

"You're right. Besides, maybe you'll be the one waking me up because of your snoring!" Harry went on.

"I don't snore!" you snorted.

"You do. I've heard you before."

"Well, then, you can wake me up if I do."

You moved your fingers away from his arm, but they lingered on the mattress near him all the same, in the little space between the two of you.

"Sleep well, lambkin," Harry whispered, closing his eyes, and when you answered, you had the same smile on your lips as the one that he wore.

"You too, chuckaboo."

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

Taglist : @emcchi​​ @fishstick-knows​​​ @eldahae​​​​ @just-damn-bored​​ @retrouvailessx​​​ @marvelstudies2020​​​ @boxofteenageideas​​@ponycake27​​​​​​​ @horsesreign​​​​​​​ @xinyourdreamsx​​​​​​ @jbluevelvet​​​​​@notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss​​​​​ @stuckupstucky​​​​​​@snek-shit​​​​​​ @suchatinyinfinity​​​​​​@i-padfootblack-things​  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi​​​​​​​@jigsawlover10​​​​​​ @emyyjemyy​​​​ @addictedtofictionalcharacters​​​​​​​​ @staringmoony​​​​​​​@madamrogers​​ @cronias13​​​ @stylesfics-xx​​​​ @mellamolayla​​​​ @mariaenchanted​

[shark-el]

Onion soup:

A firend of mine asked me for my Onion soup recipe. I was just gana send it to her plain simple and boring. But then I thought of a better way to waist my time that I should probably be spending doing work or researching for projects and thing. But I decided this was a lot more fun!

My idea was to be one of those annoying food blogs that tell their whole life story in an absolutely overly exaggerated fashion! One to make fun of blogs that do this, and tow because it's fun and why the hell not?!

So the idea for this started back when I was first starting out cooking and every single blog I found had a 1000 word essay about the origin of sed food. I found it extremely irritating because why do I did to know that this person's great uncle's best friends grandma's dog died in a fire in order to make this recipe?! So I would scroll down all the way to get to the actual recipe but the story just kept on going! Like about how her great great great grandfather's colleague from work had spills tea on his novel, a passion project that he had worked so hard for. I still had no idea how this was relevant at all to the spring rolls I was planning on making? And after an eternity of scrolling fingers tired and eyes full of tears I finally got to the recipe.

You'd think after all that back story and the amount I had learned about the person writing this like the fact that her great grandmother's favorite color was tangerine but specifically tangerine, and not orange because her childhood best friend had lent her a sweater that exact color and the next day she had never returned. That sweater has become a family heirloom that has been passed down ever since. Or the fact that she had avocado toast on Tuesday three years ago on may 18th at exactly 3:26 pm. Needless to say I knew a lot about this person and their family tree. It really helped me get the care and feeling I needed for my spring rolls. So that is why I'm going to be overly pretentious and do the same thing to you so have fun.

I was born at a very young age, in the evening on a hot August day. I don't remember much from this time in my life but my parents told me that I was miserable until I could do things for myself. After that I was a force to be reckoned with, nothing could stop me! There was one time when I was about 6 months old my parents had left me on the table thinking I couldn't get far, keeping an eye on me every once in a while but not paying much attention. The second I was put down I saw something gleaming in the corner of my eye, it was a delicious looking chocolate brownie. Nothing could stop me I was going to get that brownie no matter what! so I slowly started scooching my tiny baby body to the delicious looking dessert moving as fast as my little arms could take me. It had been 10 minutes of struggling from one end of the table to the other. I had finally made it! I was so close my hand was mere centimeters away from the prize. It was gonna be mine all mine! But then suddenly out of nowhere my dad's arms came and picked me up taking me away from my long awaited dessert. needless to say I was furious but I still never got that specific brownie (I've had other brownies don't get me wrong, it's just I never had that one. And at this point I don't think I'd want to since it's several years past it's expansion date).

That was my first experience with real food which might have been a core memory if I actually remembered it. Sadly this happened before i could remember it, but i'd like to think that it was the beginning of my love for food.

Over the years I started cooking it started off as learning how to make eggs and mac and cheese but then over the years I started to make more complex dishes, some worked and some didn't. Now I know that most people would rather be informed about the times that somebody failed rather than the time someone succeeded, they stand out more I guess and if you're actually sitting down to read this then I will reward you with some of my biggest cooking fails.

First off anything that involves baking, for instance there was one time I was going to bake a chocolate cake for a bake sale and well... so what happened was, I learned that I can't follow a recipe for the life of me! You may ask why I'm writing this recipe if I probably won't follow it anyway, but it's more a list of ingredients than a actual recipe. Anyway back to the story so my first mistake was I ended up putting in a tablespoon of salt instead of a teaspoon so normally this would be fine it would have just been a little bit salty, but problem was I had another mistake, I ended up putting in a tablespoon of mint extract instead of a teaspoon of vanilla extract as well, so the resulting cake was less cake tasting and more of the toothpaste variety. ( For some reason my brother loved it. He took about a handfuls. I would not recommend it with a glass of orange juice).

Another baking story, I was trying to make chicken pot pie, and filling itself is cooking. I can do that, throwing things in a pot, easy! It works! But do not, I repeat do not! leave me alone with a pie crust. my dad and I frantically tried to roll out said pie crust and not rip it, we were flailing around confused as to how dough worked. It took us about half an hour to roll out the pie crust so it would rip adds little as possible. After that day we came to a conclusion never to leave us with the job of baking ever again!

The next cooking fail I have is finally about the soup recipe. You see the first time I tried making onion soup it didn't go very well... Let me explain what happened. I was really in the mood for a nice warm onion soup and I figured you just throw some onions in a pot with some white wine and water and let it sit. Problem was we didn't have any wine, and I was too young to go to the grocery store to buy some, so instead I decided to use grape juice. Never but I mean never cook an absurd amount of grape juice, the heated aroma smelt excruciatingly unappetizing and I would not recommend it on anyone. So the resulting soup was watered down hot grape juice and stir-fried onions. needless to say it did not taste good and smelled even worse. I told myself that would be the last time I'd ever make onion soup! Years have past and and I was really in the mood for onion soup again even after that disaster, so I decided to try once again. this time with no grape juice! I looked through multiple recipes some had more ingredients than others and ended up combining a lot of them together to make my own onion soup recipe the one you see before you. And though I was scared that I'd mess it up I decided that I just really wanted some onion soup so I made it and it turned out delicious. Look at that a happy ending isn't that just great?!

I'd be surprised if you actually read through all of this if you did a good job,if you didn't then you're probably not going to read this sentence but I don't blame you it's all good who actually reads these backstories to recipes anyway?

Anyway I think I've mumbled on long enough here is the actual recipe for this soup:

5-6 onions

7-8 cups of chicken/ onion stock ( cold be parve from show mixes)

3 cloves of garlic (probably more)

1/4 cups of soy sauce

1/3 cups of white wine (optional)

4 tablespoons of oil (2-3 at the beginning and then 1-2 in middle of caramelization)

4 tablespoons of flower

1 teaspoon sugar (helps with caramelization)

Salt (to taste)

Pepper ( to taste but approx 1/8-1/4 of a teaspoon)

Instructions:

1) caramelize onions:

On medium heat Cook the onions, stirring often, until they have softened, about 15 to 20 minutes.

Increase the heat to medium high. Add the remaining tablespoon of oil (or butter depending on) and cook, stirring often, until the onions start to brown, about 15 more minutes.

Then sprinkle with sugar (to help with the caramelization) and 1 teaspoon of salt and continue to cook until the onions are well browned, about 10 to 15 more minutes.

Add garlic

2) Add Flour until mixed and quickly ( so it doesn't burn) add Add wine and soy sauce and once mixed well and incorporated

3)Add stock slowly, then add bay leaves and black pepper and salt (if needed, you can always add it later).

Bring to a summer and leve on low heat for 30 mins.

And now you officially scrolled too far, this is the point in a recipe blog where they add a bunch of links to all the recipes made by their friends families and anything else that comes to mind. Most people looking for the recipe would scroll all the way to the end trying to find it in this mess of words and unnecessary backstory told in an excruciatingly painful amount of detail. Then realize they've scrolled too far, sigh and start scrolling up again, this time a little slower.

It normally also has recommendations of foods that would go well with it, in the case of this onion soup I would recommend eating it with some garlic bread or grilled cheese sandwiches, basically all comfort foods that would spark Joy anytime you eat them.

If you're looking for aesthetic you can try making a bread bowl, cover it with cheese and broil it, which would have a whole other recipe linked in somewhere, with more details about how their great uncle's best firends associate made this same recipe for the pince of some country. But as I mentioned beforehand, I for one am not a baker and bread is most definitely a baking job. Not only is bread one of the more complex foods to bake, even if you put every ingredient precisely as the recipe mentions them, it still won't turn out right! Because ether the atmospheric pressure has changed very slightly, or the wind isn't blowing in the correct direction. Bread making is hard and I have a lot of respect for people who can do it correctly.

If you've read through all of this, damn that's dedication thank you and I applaud thee. I hope you enjoyed, and were amused.

[lovethisletters]

I miss you

Idk how to even start this except for: I'm so SO SO sorry @melyaliz thank u for being so patient with me 😖💕✨ this year has been hard for all of us, online school is much more difficult than I initially expected but I would keep trying my best! Hopefully you will grant me the possibility of keep writing this amazing characters of yours even though your experience with me as a writer hasn't been the greatest :c , then again thank you for your patience, happy holidays! And happy new year! Hopefully this will be a better year for all of us. 💕✨

Faith is @melyaliz OC!

It started a few weeks ago, his obsession. Tim had been trying to get information regarding Black Mask's newest plan.

—I trust you, Tim— were Bruce's last words before leaving to attend urgent matters with the Justice League, this time in space.

And since then, he worked more diligently than ever before: going undercover and placing microphones and trackers at locations in the false-face society, interrogating thugs, hours glued to his computer trying to figure something out.

While this behavior was not unusual for Tim, Faith began to worry ... call it a hunch, perhaps a gut feeling but something told her this would not end well; however, she tried to bury it and pretend that it was simply her usual concern for Tim's habits and that once it was all over, things would calm down.

But the end was only the true beginning of things.

That night Tim was in the Batcave as usual, and the rest of the family were preparing to patrol, when they suddenly heard a scream of anger and frustration.

—No! No! No! Fuck you!—

Silence invaded the mansion and was only interrupted by the sound of Batmobile's tires screeching and running at full speed.

—What's the deal with him? —Damian (already in his Robin suit) asked while trying to look through out the window, but the vehicle was already long gone.

Faith wasted no time and sprinted towards the Batcave.

And there it was, on the screen of the Batcomputer a giant, green, question mark. Riddler.

In the morning the news reported Riddler's arrest at the hands of Red Robin but it wasn't until 4 days later that Tim returned to the mansion; Physically he was fine but his ego and self-confidence was beyond bruised after what had happened and the information he managed to gather from Riddler's lair:

Tim's efforts had been all in vain, Riddler had caught up to Black Mask's suspicious activity recently and also to the fact that Batman seemed to have disappeared, so he devised a plan, surprisingly alongside Cobblepot in a deal (the details of which Tim was unaware) that seemed beneficial to both. Riddler started a little investigation on his own trying to find blackmail material ... until ... he hit the jackpot. One of his undercover henchmen had been interrogated by Tim alerting Riddler of Red Robin conducting an investigation as well, so ... He did a little digging and found out that Red Robin had been longer in this. So why not just take it? That night Tim had unveiled the last piece of the puzzle in Black Mask's plans, when suddenly, in the blink of an eye, the computer started to go crazy, sending every piece of information to (apparently ... but not really ) different directions ending with the screen showing the infamous green question mark.

Out of frustration Tim tracked down Riddler, throwed him on blackgate, recovered most but not all the stolen information and piced it all together.

He felt enraged, stupid, mocked, useless. Why haven't he realized about Riddler spying on him? He was foolish! The safety of the Batfamily could have been in danger have he been even more careless than he already was! His brothers, His mentor, His family ... His beloved Faith ... he had disappointed them all.

Everything went down hill from there.

His bad self-destructive habits went from 60 to 1000, He talked, ate and slept much MUCH less and although various family members had tried to converse with him, they were simply ignored, including Faith.

At least 2 hours had passed, she watched; his fingers danced fleetingly and aggressively on the keyboard, his green eyes glued to the monitor, he hadn't looked at her even once since she entered the room so she wondered if he even knew she was there.

—Tim, you haven't eaten anything ... wanna go whit us at belly burger? Dick said is his treat! —Her tone was slow and gentle trying not to disturb him.

—I'm good, you go — He wasn't ... He was getting thinner, and to be honest he didn't even remember if he had eaten that day or the day before.

—Then ... you want us to bring you something? anything? —She insisted but only got silence as a response.

In other situations, Faith would have been a little bit more aggressive with his approach: nagging him a little, blocking his view of the computer by standing in front of it or even carrying him out of his room making him blush wildly; but this time was different. Faith could tell how much the words Bruce said before leaving meant to him. Normally Bruce would put Dick or Jason in charge of situations like this (because he knew how "diligent" Tim could be with himself), but ... this time he trusted Tim to handle it; I have tried harder than ever before, but by concentrating on one thing he had forgotten to see the big picture. He felt like a failure, unworthy and she knew it.

She knew him better than anyone, better than himself, she could practically feel his pain.

Faith always knew about Tim's self-esteem issues. He always tried to hide them, he didn't like to see himself as vulnerable, especially having the responsibility of a vigilante life, but she learned about them since the beginning of their relationship: He was so nervous to talk to her, make extra efforts on their dates and once she heard him confess to Jason: "How can someone so beautiful actually like me?" Jason had laughed and mocked him by saying "I was wondering the same" in his eyes it was only a joke but this small comment made Tim even more insecure about his blossoming relationship. Faith noticed ... He was a people pleaser, always complying with everyone else's request in fear of being left alone, with her it was no different, several times Tim agreed to Faith's wishes even if he wasn't all that ... excited about them: like that time they went cave-diving ... it was a mess ... So in their next date Faith asked "What do YOU ​​wanna do?" he said "Whatever you want is fine" but she wasn't having it, a relationship is mutual and she wanted him to know that "Nope, this time you pick!"

And it evolved from there: She being patient with him, letting him know that he did not have to comply with all his suggestions as if they were orders and that having limits is fine and him being gentle and understanding with her, letting her know that she could trust him with everything.

And now ... they felt just so far appart ... like he was no longer by her side.

But she wasn't going to give up that easily ... she was stubborn and he had told her millions of times that he adored that about her.

Tim flinched a little when he felt her arms gently circling his waist, his chin resting on her head before he gave a chaste kiss to her tousled curls and let out a small sigh.

—Timothy. Jackson. Drake ... I miss you — People tend to forget how much simple and straight forward words can make you feel, long and tiring speeches can bury the feelings we are so desperately trying to convey, so when Tim heard those words ... He understood, he understood how distant he has been from her, how much she had waited for him, patiently and understanding of his feelings.

—I-I-I'm sorry ... Faith-

He could only return the hug from his chair, allowing himself to cry, taking out all his frustration as she stroked his hair moving him closer to his chest so that he could listen to his heart and regulate his breathing to the rhythm of it, preventing Tim from starting to hyperventilate.

—I'm sorry ... I'm sorry, please forgive me, please ...— He wouldn't stop apologizing profusely, like he had committed the worst of crimes.

—It's okay, love ... I'm always here for you — She said, taking his face in her hands, wiping away his tears gently with her thumb like he had done with her a thousand times before.

—I will always be here for you ...

Me again! As an apology for taking so long and as a gift for the holidays here is this: