#it tastes like static and blueberries

[welcome-to-our-schoolhouse]

To Baldi: How annoyed do you get when the student uses B-Soda on you?

Yeah I don’t think he likes it very much 💀

[palindrome-alt]

Digital Stars on The Wall

|| Kieran x Reader ||

Your new dorm room in Blueberry Academy is outfitted with all sorts of futuristic technology. You still haven't wrapped fully your head around the fact that you're physically stranded in the middle of the ocean in a giant submerged dome, but hey, whatever they did to make these screens, the night sky looks almost how it'd be if you were camping out in the wild on a cool night.

||Mild Spoilers for the Indigo Disk DLC!||

Everything about Blueberry Academy feels like it came out of a separate, futuristic world. The chromatic metal that never corrodes, the blue... substance, that flows through the artificial veins in the walls and keeps the place running... Out in the middle of the ocean, it's sort of like the whole megalithic building itself is somehow... alive.

Despite that, there's no electrical interference, no static hiss at the back of your ears as you rest your head against the artificial glass sky displayed on the 'window'. How the director managed to even design the illusion of depth in these screens is beyond you, but instead of square pixels, gentle pinpricks hang above you in the false distance. The fact that they aren't plastered flat to a screen is a mini engineering marvel in itself despite the slightly visible panels if you look closely.  Hand shifting out from underneath deep blue sheets, you run your palm over smooth, slightly grooved glass. It feels like touching a bunch of small bathroom tiles, and though you logically know that there's really only a deep dark ocean stretched out for miles, you almost forget just how far you are from the home you've carved out in Paldea.  You're still somewhat scared of the scientists of this world. Somehow, you don't remember civilization being this... technologically advanced.  Cool air blows through the vents above you, tasting nothing of the slightly salty expanse of water above. With their filtration systems, this might be some of the cleanest air you've ever breathed. It's sterile, much less handmade and aged than your dorm room back in Mesagoza. But somehow, this place has started to feel so comfortable, as if it weren't ever foreign in the first place.  The sound of rustling next to you shakes you out of your thoughts, and you shift back onto your back to get a closer look at Kieran, who you almost forgot was there.

He's stiff as a board, his arms folded on top of his chest, his eyes wide and staring straight at the ceiling.  Aside from his shoes, he's still wearing his full school uniform, and his hair has only just started to slip from the tie he's put it up in. He popped in rather unexpectedly, and must not've thought you'd let him stay, so he didn't think to change into more comfortable clothes. Small frazzled black bunches drape onto the extra pillow you pulled from the closet, and the off-color purple no longer remains the dominant color. 

You shift again, this time gaining his attention by curling against his side and nuzzling into the mattress a little more. He stiffens under the touch, but you can feel his sharp eyes flicker from the ceiling to you, a little more of an edge to him than before that he might not ever let go of. 

You don't move, and he must think you're asleep with how you catch his eyelashes gently lulling, spine slowly losing its tension. He must be so sore from all the clenching he's been doing, if not from how he's been pushing himself up until recently. The events that transpired between you are probably still haunting him, even now. With a fresh set of new skin-deep scars, you know it has to be hard on him. Up until last week, it wasn't even certain if you were both still friends.  He sighs beside you, head sinking into his pillow. Unclasping his hands, he slowly reaches over, testing the waters. He hesitates, looking conflicted over whatever thoughts are running through his head. Whatever he was going to do, he must've decided otherwise as his hand drops just short of you.

His eyebrows furrow, pupils dilating a little when they land on yours.  "S-Sorry." He flinches away, shifting his gaze.  You don't say anything, but the following silence between you isn't entirely comfortable like before. Inhaling deeply, he stiffens back up a little, pretending to look around the room though his focus is still on you. He can't seem to pay attention to anything else right now.

He's been so consumed with thoughts of you for so long that he's a little scared that he can't be normal about it.  You can't know that.  He tries forcing his eyes shut.  He won't be getting any sleep tonight. 

[morrak]

Origin: Ethiopia

Region: Yirgachefe

Farm: Geremew Dambi & Tsehay Kabtamu

Variety: Kurume, 74110, 74112

Process: Washed

Altitude: 2066 m

I have never worked with a coffee that threw off as much chaff as this. I tried to outsmart it with tricks for mitigating static. I tried to sift it. I even tried ignoring it, but to no avail: despite it all, I felt like I was pouring hot water on so much confetti. I don’t know where it was hiding all that parchment; I guess the universe is just mysterious.

Worth the fuss? Yeah, probably. Depends on your taste, I guess, but then again, so does most everything else. Nothing out of the ordinary for Yirgachefe (which is, to be clear, a rave review). Blueberry up front; yuzu-aligned citrus acidity; floral complexity all the way down. In larger, more extracted brews — in my case, 30 g doses in 500 g water through a bagged white V60 filter — the effect is a bit like what happens to blueberry muffins when they start to brown. Over ice, more like a tea in texture and depth.

55 g/L pourover is probably where I liked this best, but I suspect it could’ve been beautiful espresso as well. One of these days I’ll get back to infusion brewing more often. This is probably equally great fodder for steep-and-release, but that’s a little less economical than I can justify at home.

[luminous-letters]

Hi! Can i have a oneshot or scenarios with idia? inspired the song "No friends" by Cadmium ? Where the prefect of the ramshackle (reader) noticed that idia doesn't have any friends in outside despite him being a shut-in-otaku, so reader decide they wanted to be friends with Idia, even they're a normie (but they are also a fan of manga/anime lol), they still wants to friends with him so that he wont be lonely.

Reader helps Idia touch some grass (and maybe get some friends in the process)

Idia Shroud was never an outside person. Most of his time was passed with either tinkering with some of the latest magical parts and accessories or a three-hour grind quest on some RPG game.

That didn't change even after he got accepted into Night Raven College.

He didn't have any friends outside of his servers and guilds and he was fine with that. He could manage, he didn't need to listen to their uninteresting chatter. He'd rather spend some time with Ortho.

That sort of mentality carried on until his third year. He was now Ignihyde's housewarden and was in charge of keeping maintenance of the campus' internet.

That was until you, the rumored magicless human that got 'teleported' to this world, came along. Your knowledge of the art of gaming and comics were mediocre at best, but that didn't stop you from bothering him. More often than not he'd find you knocking on his door.

Did he let you in? No.

He underestimated your persistence, it was...annoyingly sweet. When he'd ask you "Why? Why are you still here? Leave me alone?" you'd usually answer with either, "You need some friends." or "Because you're lonely."

His attempts to keep you off his tail were so far so good. He could play a bit more without your constant pestering, or so he thought.

You were even more dangerous (determined) now. And to add insult to injury, Ortho even gave you his blessing. He was tempted to power up the dorm's intruder defense system, but decided against it.

After a week or so he finally gave in. The cold metal doors, the only barrier between him and the outside world, were opened at last. Your sunny disposition was out of place in the bleak and dreary energy of his room.

"W-what do you want...? The meeting already passed a week ago..." He leered, eyeing your rather colorful taste in clothes. He remembered Ortho telling him that it looked cute. In his opinion it looked hideous. Why can't you opt for something that's less of an eyesore, maybe something gray or something—

"You need to go outside, even Ortho's asking me to get you out of your room." You replied, cutting off Idia's stream of thoughts and rambles.

"No." He bluntly replied, quickly trying to retreat to his room. Thump. The sound of his back against the now closed door rang in the ghostly empty halls.

"W-what? Ortho? Ortho...!" Idia called from the comms panel. "Sorry, brother. But MC's right, you need some sunshine! The day's very nice today!" Came Ortho's voice from the static, quickly cutting off transmission after a beep.

"Come on, if you don't like it too much outside you can crash at my dorm." You offered to a still unconvinced Idia.

"Trust me, if you still don't like it after this I won't be pestering you anymore." You seemed honest enough. "Fine..." He sighed. He can't believe he's going to do this.

A few unprecedented hijinks with three of the most extroverted students in the whole of Sage Island, teatime with Riddle, a quick round of TWSTopoly in Octavinelle, and a chase with Lucius later, Idia was comfortably sitting in Ramshacle's sofa with a cold cup of yogurt in hand.

Ortho decided to drop in earlier. The young shroud was happily petting a sleeping Grim, moving his TWSTopoly piece a couple spaces forward.

"This is...nice." Idia commented, taking another spoonful of the blueberry-flavored dessert. He seemed much relaxed now than he was earlier, azure wisps of his flaming hair looked gentle.

"See? It's good to come out once in a while." You chirped, rolling a pair of dice.

This feeling wasn't too bad, he thinks. And he enjoyed seeing you and Ortho having a nice round at TWSTopoly. To go outside was rare for him and was certainly uncomfortable, but you made it all worthwhile. Kudos to you. Three stars. All perfect, level clear!

Maybe having a friend isn't too bad after all.

[theoptimisticdaydreamer]

My verdict for this week of Bake Off is that the judging curse has really become apparent.

At some point in every season, without fail, the judges make a decision that makes absolutely no sense.

In which they throw away the rulebook for judging and go rogue.

Illogical because it doesn’t match up with the footage we get on the episode.

Custard Week was the week this year. 

The judges comments at the end of the episode implied that Syabira won because of the Showstopper.

Using that exact same logic, Kevin should not have gone home. He had great flavors and textures in the Showstopper (and the Signature).

Syabira obviously produced the stunning piña colada cake. Sandro produced a THREE TIERED cake in which two of the three tiers were perfect and the flavor combinations were good.  Kevin had a dessert that structurally fell apart because he didn’t use tall enough dowels or separators for each tier like Sandro did. However, his flavors were the best. The judges admitted that!

Who did not do well in the Showstopper- Janusz and Maxy. Janusz produced something that was inedible, where the set custard was consistently gloopy and thick, and Maxy produced something that was underwhelming in terms of satisfying the brief (and the set custard was not even set).

One of them should have gone home. Janusz did not do well in 2/3 of the challenges. Maxy’s flavor profile has been consistently static and unadventurous. This flavor profile difference was never more apparent than in the Signature. Everyone has been trying to play with their flavors from mojitos to vanilla lattes to lychee and rose to cherry, orange and pistachio. Maxy’s flavor was blueberry. That was it. Blueberry. 

I am happy for Syabira, I really am. I love that she knocked it out of the park with her Showstopper and delivered something that stunned the judges and saved her from elimination. But she was in danger of elimination because of the technical. Which meant that going into the Showstopper, the technical mattered.

The technical which Syabira and Janusz both delivered pistachio soup which placed them 6th and 5th respectively and Kevin 3rd. The technical where Sandro was the clear winner with the ice cream he made despite never making ice cream before.

I need to know whether or not the technical actually factors into the judging at all. It doesn’t seem like it. Which means that the judges can stop making the bakers dance through hell for their own amusement, giving them barely any fucking instructions, and instead create technicals that are not so bloody stressful.

Who should have gotten Star Baker? That’s a hard one because what exactly are you judging it on. Sandro did amazing in the Technical and delivered a lot for the Showstopper but the sheer size and variety of flavors is overshadowed by the fact that he didn’t get them all perfect. He had two out of three tiers of perfection but it wasn’t 3/3. Even if his 2/3 was better than some people’s entire cakes. His Signature also overdid it on the booze. Syabira produced an amazing Showstopper and Signature but failed the technical completely. Both of them deserve it.

Either way you look at it, collectively at all three challenges or placing all of the emphasis on the Showstopper, the wrong person went home tonight.

Justice for Kevin!

In Bake Off, the Flavor should triumph over everything else. Especially considering these are amateur bakers who bake for their families- who cares what it looks like (and who has time to care honestly) as long as it tastes delicious.

The judging should reflect this. The judging should also evaluate each week independently and stop playing favorites. 

HAVE CONSISTENT AND FAIR JUDGING ALREADY. IT HAS BEEN TWELVE FREAKING YEARS! YOU HAVE HAD PLENTY OF TIME TO WORK OUT THE KINKS! 

[wildcardaces]

@ruby-static "blueberry snowball" edition!

Where Anna gets to witness riki get a snowball to the head by none other than jun!

Anna: oh my-

Shawn: nooOOO

Riki was simply talking to someone (maybe Alfie) while jun took the opportunity to buy multiple snowcones, turn them into a big melon shaped snowball and dunk riki much to Anna's amusement and Shawn's dismay

Anna: bro. You got fuckin owned

Riki:.... Oh hey this tastes like blueberry.

Shawn: pfft

Thankfully any anger at what happened quickly faded when riki realised that he got bombed by a blueberry flavoured snowball XD Anna and Shawn be amused now

And the finale!

Shawn: arin, please keep an eye on riki today. He's gonna say something to the wrong person and get himself punched.

Arin: sure, I'd love to watch riki get punched

Shawn: try again.

Arin: ugh. Fine

Arin is a lil asshole sometimes but she does care for riki as a best friend aaaa

[coffeedrawingandwriting]

Entangled Webs

Warnings: Creepy elements, minor character death, mentions of someone getting eaten, drinking, and disappearances

————————

When you awoke, the monster was gone. For a moment you missed the protective feeling you had felt with his presence nearby.

That vanished almost immediately.

Sitting up, you gazed around for a moment. The sun was shining through the large front window, glinting softly off blue cobwebs, yet not penetrating into the depths of the room, or the rafters.

The sunlight did not reveal the swaying bundles.

You stood shakily, making sure all of your limbs and body were intact.

It was quiet in this room, the only noise being the soft squeezing of mice in the walls.

And the approaching of many legs.

Tip. Tap.

Tip. Tap.

Tip.

The arachne stood in the doorway, eyeing you as you stared at him in horror once again. The pang of fear that jolted through you, seeing it once again in daylight. The only thing discernible from this distance was the shape and the glowing blue tear lines, streaking down from glowing eye sockets.

"YoU'r3 aWaKe." The glitched voice was calm. He approached, striding into the corner, watching you as warily as you were him.

Sweat pooled in your hands, wiping them on pant legs.

You felt like you had to say something to him.

The sun did not expose the red splatters on his legs. 

Did he introduce himself last night?

You couldn’t remember.

No, no, he didn’t.

What to say? Thank you for not eating me? 

He might still change his mind. 

“Ar3 y0u juSt gO!ng to sTaND th3Re or wH@t?”

His voice snapped you to attention, tensing. He snorted and began to walk towards you.

Your feet acted before you stop yourself, scrabbling away as he settled himself in the nest. He didn’t seem offended, only stretched his arms above his head before looking at you, your eyes locking onto his pupils.

There was something attractive in his eyes, you mused for a moment. As if they were human and not that of a monster.

You shook yourself. It didn’t do to associate feelings and empathy with something that would be surely exterminated when you left and reported the spider to the police.

Yet…

An eye for eye. A life for a life.

You didn’t like the feeling of guilt at the thought. He clearly had feelings. 

“Erm, no,” you stammered, answering his earlier question. “I’m going to…” 

What were you going to do?

The arachne huffed. “TyP1caL huM-M-M-maN.” His voice glitched oddly, static overlapping the latter part of his sentence. 

As if he was choking out the word. 

Silence was your best friend, you decided. He shifted to pull a small blue string bag from his side, placing it down at the edge of his nest, nodding at it. You craned your neck to look inside.

Blueberries.

Did he… pick food for you?

”WeLl?” He asked, irritation starting to harden his words. 

Deep breath. 

If he wanted you dead, he would have killed you already.  

The floorboards squeaked as you stepped forward, now noticeable when you weren’t terrified for your life. 

You brushed a finger against the bag, keeping an eye on the arachne. 

The bag didn’t stick to your fingers, so you plunged your hand in, grabbing a fistful and shoving them into your mouth. 

Your legs seemed almost to give out in relief, plopping on the floor to rest. 

You might have not been entirely sober when you first entered this place, and finally tasting real food made you ravenous. 

Speaking off…

You cast a glance at the outdoors, mentally cussing out your so called friends. They hadn’t even appeared to check in on you. 

“We’ll be right behind you as you go in!” They giggled as you had downed the rest of your drink and stomped up the front steps. You had mockingly saluted them before opening the door.

And now look at where you were.

He shifted, legs adjusting themselves.

“Wh@t is y0uR naMe h-h-huM@n?” You started. 

Your name? Why would he want to know that? You didn’t want to give him it, even if he was feeding you and giving you shelter-

“1 don’T haV3 aLl dAy,” he interjected.

”Y-Y/N.” You cursed the stammer in your voice. He didn’t comment on your fear or make fun of it, turning to instead stare at you.

You were sitting much closer to him than you thought you were. 

A shaky breath steadied you. 

Focus. Focus on getting out. 

“Y/N.” His eye sockets widened for a moment, pinning you in place. “Ar3n’t yOu g0inG to aSk f0-0-0r mY naM3?”

You didn’t want to. You were already likening him too much to something somewhat human. A name would make this all so much harder. But at the threat of offending the monster, your heart balked. 

“What’s your name,” you whispered. 

He grinned. ”ErR0r.” He seemed pleased, straightening and beckoning you over with a finger. 

Did it seem the red on his fingertips glimmered like water in the light?

Your gut screamed to run, yet your mind obeyed, standing and walking towards him. Error hummed before poking your side with a finger. You jumped a little at the sensation, keeping in a squeal of fear, before squeaking as he grabbed you, rubbing his skull into your stomach.

He inhaled and exhaled, deep breaths tickling your skin. 

Your fingers found his arms wrapped along your sides, subtly trying to pry them off, to no avail. His grip only seemed to tighten. Swallowing the scream in your throat, you held your breath as his skull traveled up to your neck, nuzzling into the crook of your shoulder. 

You couldn’t help squirming at the ticklish feeling, triggering a glitched chuckle from his rib cage. 

He seemed to mumble to himself for a moment, hand reaching to comb through your hair for a brief moment. 

“Can- can you let go?” You asked tentatively. Error didn’t answer, but he loosened his grip to bring his skull to meet your face, eye lights seemingly tracing over curve and crinkle of your face. 

“YoU do n3ed to gO hom3, d0n-n-n’t YoU?” He hummed. You nodded, hope swelling in your chest. 

“On 0n3 cond1tIoN.” 

You froze. 

“YoU c@nnOt teLl aNyon3 abOut th1s plAc3. Or elSe.”

You whimpered a bit, cowed by the low growl at the end of his sentence.

”I won’t.” You were proud for not stuttering.  

“Go0D.” He set you down, standing himself. “G0 doWn th3 stAirS At thE r1gHt and yoU w1ll seE the do0r oUt.” 

“Thank you, thank you,” you gasped, backing away in the direction of the door, watching him turn away. The moment his eyes were off you, you turned to grasp the edge of the door-

You heard a soft moan, as you had nearly gotten yourself out the first door. 

You peeked over your shoulder. 

 Error was on the ceiling, standing by a large cocoon of shimmering blue silk. A hand was sticking out of the cocoon, the fingernails a bright orange with black stripes.

You knew that hand. Just last night, with your companions, the one you had thought was your one true friend had brandished her nails in pride, declaring it was support for her little sister’s team. 

She would never see her sister again. 

Error sank his fangs into the cocoon.

You ran.  

Down the stairs, out the door, throwing up onto the lawn, clutching your stomach as you ran, ran, run, run as fast you can!

You sobbed to yourself within your home, scrubbing your body raw to rid yourself of the feeling of fuzzy feelers. 

You felt vile, leaving them there to perish. Why else had none emerged.

And why were you alive and not them?

I didn’t tell. I didn’t tell.

I didn’t tell. 

You told yourself as you watched an extermination team exit the abandoned house, shaking their heads as they watched the remnants of the gas leak through the walls. 

“Whatever was in there is long gone,” one of the men said, shaking his head in disappointment.

The police had knocked on your door. 

“Any bodies?”

”Remnants and little trinkets.” 

You had given them your story, though different from the real events. 

“That webbing is awfully familiar though.” 

“Don’t see much colored silk in the Arachne family.”

You told them you had all went into the house. You woke up in the kitchen, having seemingly collapsed. You, hungover, had stumbled back home, thinking everyone else had made it out again. 

“Maybe it’s that specimen from the Southern Abyss.”

”This far north?”

They believed you. 

I didn’t tell.

The exterminators left, giving you a statement to give to the police officers waiting in their car. You signed your name and watched as all drove away, declining a ride home. 

You began to walk, chanting the words under your breath.

”I didn’t tell, I didn’t tell, I didn’t tell…”

The next day, another missing report was made. 

——————

MISSING

Y/N L/N

Height: 

Hair color: 

Eye color:

Last Seen: 404 Thread St, Mt. Ebott, (Country/State)

Went missing on (XX/XX/XXXX), please contact your local authorities if you have any information on wereabouts.

——————

CASE CLOSED

—————

@octopus-is-octopus

[ilyuu]

UR NEW THEME OMG.. it smells like lavender.. (yes i can hear scents and speak colors and see sounds.)

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE it tastes like blueberry and code, smelled like static, and looks homey akdjdjdjddndd

[thecatchat]

found my first ever dimensions drabble! Changed the name to Cue but nothing else

---

“You know, you really should do that.” 

“Pardon?”

“I- sorry, that just slipped out. I don’t  mean to sound preachy.”

“No I mean I didn’t understand youse. Do what?”

“Smoke. It’s... pretty bad for you.” 

The man just took another drag, staring Karl down with blank puzzlement. 

“Ah, tobacco is-“ Karl was interrupted by the stranger coughing, shaking on his inhale. 

“You- ahck- tobacco? You think I’m suicidal or somethin, out here puffing on coffin nails? ‘S ain’t a cigarette!” He waved his hand around as he talked, enunciating his words. Karl wrinkled his nose at the smoke but not because it was bad, only because it was strong. Different. It didn’t smell like cigarette smoke. In fact, it smelled kind of nice, like vanilla but spicy. 

“Oh, uh, what is it then?”

The man put the strange-smelling stick back in his mouth. “You a sap?” 

“Hey, it’s just a question!” 

“It’s sugar smoke. Candy. You suck in suck in the dust, it melts and turns to smoke, you blow it out. Ya get all the flavor without needing to absorb any ‘o the junk stuff. Cigarettes don’t look nothing like them, but I guess you could get confused.” 

“Oh, that’s... really cool actually. Are you trying to be healthier?” 

He snorted, raising his hand to his head in laughter. “Oh, healthy. Mmm. No. I like the taste.” He pulled out a nearly empty box with a few little sugar sticks left and reached out, offering. Karl hesitated for a moment before selecting one, it was a little purple.

“So, do I need a light or...” 

“I told you, it ain’t a cigarette.” 

“Right.”

He awkwardly set the stick in his mouth. It tasted like sweet paper (but still paper). He guessed he should open it somehow. But, how? He bit the tip of it, jumping at the sudden sting of flavor. It was something he didn’t quite know the name of, sharp and sweet, vaguely like blueberries and red cinnamon dipped in static. 

“Mmm!” He exclaimed, causing the man to smile and laugh. It was a sweet look on him, soft, genuine, happiness. 

“Tastes good, don’t it?” 

“Yeah, I think? It- ACHK,” Karl choked as he inhaled the sudden puff of smoke in his mouth. He forgot he was supposed to blow the stuff out. 

The well-dressed man flicked away his own stick and raised an eyebrow. “Youse sure you ain’t a sap?” 

“Oh, ha ha. Anyway, I’m Karl.” He stuck his hand out, a small goofy smile slipping across his face. “I’m... new around here.” 

“Oh, ya don’t say?” The man half-rolled his eyes but took Karl’s hand happily. “Name’s Cue, I run the casino ‘cross the ways there.” He gestured to a flashy building down the street. 

“Whoah. Cool.”

“You gamble?” 

“Ah, you could say that.”

“Meaning?” 

“It depends,” Karl clicked his tongue, playfully eyeing the building in the distance. “I play a lot a lot of games.” 

“Well,” Cue chuckled “if you’re ever lookin for a good time, swing by. We might be able to find a game or two you can… enjoy.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Karl smiled. He liked this guy. “No, you know what? Defiantly. I’ll come by sometime, count on it!”

“I’ll hold you to that. I- fuck, speaking of my work I should be getting back.”

“Oh,” Karl frowned, sad to see his new friend gone too soon. He’d kind of hoped to talk more.

Cue seemed to share the sentiment. He stopped a few steps away and turned around, glancing to the empty road rather than looking Karl in the eye. 

“Hey, uh, Karl…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe it’s best if ya sticks with me for a bit, yeah? This part ‘o town ain’t right for newcomers to be wandering on their own… ‘specially not a pretty cat like youse. I mean, no offense, but you kinda look like a nut.”

“I-“ Karl glanced down at himself. His coat, even paled in this world’s strange light, stuck out like a rainbow in the snow. “Oh, yeah. I don’t exactly blend in. I always forget the outfits…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Personally, I think ya’d look keen in just about anything but folks ‘round here are arrogant, neighborhood reputations and business and all that.”

“I guess I should find something else to wear. Any recommendations?” 

Cue eyed him up and down. “I got… a few ideas. I- you know what? Come with me. Imma get ya dolled up fine.”

“I thought you had to go back to work?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he scoffed. “Charlie can cover me for a while. I’d rather talk s’more with yo- I- I mean, I wanna see you in- I mean- I-“

“I’d love to!” Karl jumped in, saving Cue from his stammering. 

“Well then,” Cue smiled and held out his arm, face just a little pink “shall we?”

Karl linked his arm. “As I said, I’d love to.”

I remember this one!!!!! I was confused about the slang and you introduced me to my first does of 1920s slang. It's so cute and Karl is being so sweet and curious!

I wonder how long it took Quackity to realize just how unnaturally bright Karl was? When did he realize that Karl's clothes weren't some kind of special fabric or that he wasn't being lit up by another light sorce? It's obvious that he's brighter than everyone else, but how bright is a fashion statement and how bright is flat out unnatural?

Like, I know they got on well enough at first but how did the whole "I travel to different dimensions" thing get brought up? How long did it take for Cue to go from "weird but cute guy" to "something isn't right here"? Maybe it's just because I've been on a horror podcast streak, but I kinda want Cue to have a moment of "What are you?" Type thing.

I think that extends to all the characters in Prowa that start interacting with him regularly. Like, Karl is obviously a sweetheart and wouldn't hurt anyone without very good reason, but what is he like from a distance? Do people see him in the park with Cue and notice how he's just a sliver too vivid? Do people catch hints of swirling colored smoke when they look at him from the corner of their eye?

[theunquenchablethirst]

Pit of Vipers Pt4: Al Dente Pop Tarts (Jerome X Reader)

After my parents deaths, I was sold to the circus. Everything seemed bleak and I didn’t understand why. But Jerome Valeska taught me how to survive.

Baby Jerome being a sweetie, comforting and protecting baby reader. Get ready to feel

Masterlist

Jerome took my yellow case and unpacked it. There wasn’t a lot in there, just some odds and ends.  

“I’ll get you some new clothes soon. For now, though, you can borrow these.” He took a red t-shirt and some blue shorts out from the bottom of the chest of drawers and tossed them to me.

“Are these yours?” I asked inspecting them.

“They were a few of years ago. They don’t fit me anymore, but they look about your size.”  

“Do I have to change now?”

“No, not right now.” Jerome chuckled.

I nodded and hung the clothes on the ladder of the bunk beds.

“Wait here.” He said before creeping out of the room.  He came back a few minutes later with a big smile on his face.

“So dollface, you hungry?”

Jerome took me to the little kitchenette and rooted through the cupboard, before producing two packets of pop tarts.

“You want blueberry or chocolate?”

I didn’t answer. I just kept staring at the door to Lilas room, worried she would come out any minute. I was worried about what she’d do if she caught us rummaging around in the kitchen.

“She’s asleep.” Jerome said bringing my attention back to him. “Don’t worry. I checked.”

“What if she wakes up?”

Jerome simply laughed at the suggestion.

“With the amount she drank? No way. She’s out cold ‘till tomorrow afternoon.”

He dropped the pop tarts in the toaster and opened the fridge. He took out a carton of milk and sniffed it, before taking a sip. His face crumpled in disgust and he spit the milk back out into the sink.

“Why is it chewy?” He groaned and dumped the carton into a nearly full black bag that was sitting next to an overflowing bin. I stifled a giggle.

“Yeah, go on. Laugh it up. Soda?” He handed me a Coke, grabbed one for himself and closed the fridge. He cracked his can open and took a swig, washing the taste of sour milk away.  

“What’s the matter?” He asked watching me fiddle with my can.

“Tommy says I’m not supposed to have this. He says the sugar rots your teeth.”  

“Who’s Tommy?”

“My big brother.”

“Isn’t he the guy that just dumped you here? I heard he got $750 for that.”

“He’ll come back for me. He said so.”

“Right.” Jerome sounded unconvinced.

“He said so...” Tears started to well in my eyes and I looked down at my feet.

“Hey, listen. I don’t know this Tommy guy, but I'm sure he wouldn’t want his baby sister to be crying over him. I definitely wouldn’t.” Jerome wiped my tears with his sleeve and I nodded in agreement.

“And you know since he’s not here, you can have as many Cokes as you want. Besides you’re gonna lose those teeth anyway, so rot on, right?” He smiled and cracked open my soda for me.

Jerome turned back to the pop tarts in the toaster. He hovered his hand over the top feeling the heat.

“Damn this thing.” He said slapping the side. He hovered his hand again, before sighing and taking the pop tarts out.

“Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Looks like we’re eating al dente tonight.” He plated up the uncooked pop tarts and walked to the back of the trailer, me following him. I sat down on the small sofa and Jerome handed me a plate before turning to a small lamp and flicking it on.

“That’s better.” He said.

He then turned to a boxy looking object in the corner that had numerous empty bottles balanced on top of it. It was a TV. He switched the dial until he found some Tom and Jerry cartoons, then came and sat down next to me.

“See. It’s not all bad.” He smiled and put his arm around me, pulling me close to him.  

We sat like that munching and giggling at the cartoons for hours. He made me feel safe again, like I was back with Tommy and the time just flew by. Before we knew it, it was already dark outside and raining heavily.

“Looks like a storm’s coming.”

As the weather got worse static soon started to interrupt the cartoons.

“I got it.” Jerome hopped up and went to fiddle with the antenna on top of the TV, standing back every so often to check if it was working. Colour flashed on the TV again and we smiled.

“I think I got it...” However, Jerome was cut off by loud banging at the trailer door.  

At first, I thought it was thunder, but then Jerome turned off the TV and the lamp, grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the bedroom closing the door behind us. He got behind the chest of drawers and started pushing it in front of the door.

“What’s going on, Jerome?”

“Just be quiet, ok?”

When the door was blocked, he turned off the light and tucked me into the bottom bunk.

“Jerome?”

He put his finger to his lips and silently shushed me. The banging went on, until we heard Lilas door slam open.

“Alright! Alright! I’m coming!”

We heard Lila open the front door to whoever was banging.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Hello to you too Lila.”

It was a man. We heard the sounds of shuffling in the kitchenette and the clinking of bottles or glasses. There was some mumbling as they spoke and drank and it soon turned into laughter. There was a pause of silence, then more shuffling and then we heard loud moaning sounds. Jerome held me close to his chest and pressed his hands over my ears.

“Jerome? What’s going on?”

“It’ll all be over soon. Just be quiet and close your eyes.”

Then there came loud bumping on the wall. It made me flinch and Jerome held my ears tighter. As much as he tried it did little to dull the noises. We huddled together for what seemed like forever, through the onslaught of moaning, curses and bumping on the wall. Jerome held me close the entire time, bringing the covers over our heads, wrapping his arms around me and always covering my ears. He didn’t let go, even after everything stopped. Not that I wanted him to and I clung to him until I fell asleep.

You couldn’t have separated us with a crowbar that night. Nothing could have.  

[thebadchoicemachine]

karl in Prowa, what will he do

“You know, you really should do that.” 

“Pardon?”

“I- sorry, that just slipped out. I don’t  mean to sound preachy.”

“No I mean I didn’t understand youse. Do what?”

“Smoke. It’s... pretty bad for you.” 

The man just took another drag, staring Karl down with blank puzzlement. 

“Ah, tobacco is-“ Karl was interrupted by the stranger coughing, choking on his inhale. 

“You- ahck- tobacco? You think I’m suicidal or somethin, out here puffing on coffin nails? ‘S ain’t a cigarette!” He waved his hand around as he talked, enunciating his words. Karl wrinkled his nose at the smoke but not because it was bad, only because it was strong. Different. It didn’t smell like cigarette smoke. In fact, it smelled kind of nice, like vanilla but spicy. 

“Oh, uh, what is it then?”

The man put the strange-smelling stick back in his mouth. “You a sap?” 

“Hey, it’s just a question!” 

“It’s sugar smoke. Candy. You suck in suck in the dust, it melts and turns to smoke, you blow it out. Ya get all the flavor without needing to absorb any ‘o the junk stuff. Cigarettes don’t look nothing like them, but I guess you could get confused.” 

“Oh, that’s... really cool actually. Are you trying to be healthier?” 

He snorted, raising his hand to head in laughter. “Oh, healthy. Mmm. No. I like the taste.” He pulled out a nearly empty box with a few little sugar sticks left and held it out, offering. Karl hesitated for a moment before selecting one, it was a little purple.

“So, do I need a light or...” 

“I told you, it ain’t a cigarette.” 

“Right.”

He awkwardly set the stick in his mouth. It tasted like sweet paper (but still paper). He guessed he should open it somehow? Uh... hmmm. He bit the tip of it, jumping at the sudden sting of flavor. It was something he didn’t quite know the name of, sharp and sweet, vaguely like blueberries and red cinnamon dipped in static. 

“Mmm!” He exclaimed, causing the man to smile and laugh. It was a sweet look on him, soft, genuine, happiness. 

“Tastes good, don’t it?” 

“Yeah, I think? It- ACHK,” Karl choked as he inhaled the sudden puff of smoke in his mouth. He forgot he was supposed to blow the stuff out. 

The well-dressed man flicked away his own stick and raised an eyebrow. “Youse sure you ain’t a sap?” 

“Oh, ha ha.” Karl shifted, not really offended. “Um, thanks for letting me try one. I’m Karl, by the way.” He stuck his hand out, a small goofy smile slipping across his face. “I’m... new around here.” 

“Oh, ya don’t say?” The man half-rolled his eyes but took Karl’s hand happily. “Name’s Quackity, I run the casino ‘cross the ways there.” He gestured to a flashy building down the street. 

“Whoah. Cool.”

“You gamble?” 

“Ah, you could say that.”

“Meaning?” 

“It depends,” Karl clicked his tongue, playfully eyeing the building in the distance. “I play a lot a lot of games.” 

“Well,” Quackity chuckled “if you’re ever lookin for a good time, swing by. We might be able to find a game or two you can… enjoy.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Karl smiled. He liked this guy. “No, you know what? Defiantly. I’ll come by sometime, count on it!”

“I’ll hold you to that. I- fuck, speaking of my work I should be getting back.”

“Oh,” Karl frowned, sad to see his new friend gone too soon. He’d kind of hoped to talk more.

Quackity seemed to share the sentiment. He stopped a few steps away and turned around, glancing to the empty road rather than looking Karl in the eye. 

“Hey, uh, Karl…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe it’s best if ya sticks with me for a bit, yeah? This part ‘o town ain’t right for newcomers to be wandering on their own… ‘specially not a pretty cat like youse. I mean, no offense, but you kinda look like a nut.”

“I-“ Karl glanced down at himself. His coat, even paled in this world’s strange light, stuck out like a rainbow in the snow. “Oh, yeah. I don’t exactly blend in. I always forget the outfits…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Personally, I think ya’d look keen in just about anything but folks ‘round here are arrogant, neighborhood reputations and business and all that.”

“I guess I should find something else to wear. Any recommendations?” 

Quackity eyed him up and down, gears turning in his head. He nodded like he’d thought of something he liked.

“Quackity?”

He jumped like he forgot this was a conversation. “Uh, I got… a few ideas. I- you know what? Come with me, Imma get youse dolled up fine.”

“I thought you had to go back to work?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he scoffed. “Charlie can cover me for a while. I’d rather talk s’more with yo- UH- I mean, I wanna see you in- no, no, that’s worse... I mean I-“

“I’d love to!” Karl jumped in, saving Quackity from his stammering. 

“Oh. Well then,” Quackity smiled and held out his arm, face just a little pink “shall we?”

Karl linked his arm. “Like I said, I’d love to.”

--

@thecatchat here’s the doodle 

[rotten-chocolate]

Headcanon time!

Before the factory Augustus was really shy and rarely left his house (other than go to school) so he got little exercise and then started eating more and more and ended up the way he was.

During the factory, Augustus was quite worried for the way the other kids might judge him for his weight but completely forgot about it when he saw everything.

After the factory, he got more confident in himself and started making more friends. He was still over-weight but he was watching it making sure he ate the ‘right amount’ every day. Also the chocolate fudge was just all over his body with like a 2cm layer of it.

Before the factory Violet didn’t actually like entering competitions but she loved winning them and she told her mum that she loved the feeling of winning so her mum was like “YOU MUST ENTER EVERY SINGLE COMPETITION TO BE HAPPY” so that’s how she became ‘spoiled’

During the factory she was excited (of course) but not to win just to be there (and to win a bit) but it was her mum that was like “YOU GOTTA WIN!” And when Augustus went up the pipe she was terrified and then when she saw the gum she got so excited she forgot what happened so yeah. (Also she had a crush on Mike let’s face it)

After the factory Violet dyes her hair back to its original colour (blonde/brown ECT) but keeps some blue highlights in it. Her eyes have a blue tinge to it or she has heteochromia (sorry if the spellings off) in one eye with some/all of it being blue. And she has the constant taste of blueberries in her mouth.

Before the factory, of course Veruca was VERY spoiled but it wasn’t supposed to be (in a way) like her father wanted to make her happy every day (which was easy for him because of ✨money✨ and then it progressed from there and it got worse every month.

During the factory, in all fairness, she didn’t really want to go to the factory, she only wanted the ticket to brag about it. But when she went inside she was like: 🤯. Because it was so pretty and edible and she was still a kid so she obviously liked sweets and stuff. Also when she saw the squirrels she did really want one but she was scared of them but she braved through it because she WANTS A SQUIRREL.

After the factory, she was still spoiled but she only got stuff if she used manners and was polite. She still demands stuff but not as often as she used to. She is also is now scared of squirrels. Like she will NOT get within a ten meter radius of one. Like she will see one in the park and RUN

Before the factory, Mike didn’t really notice how terrible his mother was to him so he didn’t pay attention to her and turned his attention to the tv (I have done a whole post about his backstory)

During the factory, like Veruca he wasn’t really interested and he only got his ticket on a dare. And when he was in the tv he didn’t actually like it because it made him feel sick (it happens when your on a screen too long sometimes)

After the factory he realised how bad his mum was and moved in with his half sister Lucy (again I’ve done a post about it) who is like 19. But he sometimes has twitches like a glitch and he constantly has the sound of tv static in his ear.

I’m sorry I’m not doing one for Charlie because he’s kinda boring and doesn’t change that much ngl

[ryuuisthecutest]

— a night to be ; lilia vanrouge

✧*:･ﾟﾟ✧*:･ﾟ ✧*:･ﾟﾟ✧*:･ﾟ ✧*:･ﾟﾟ

yandere! lilia vanrouge x reader

went on tumblr and saw this a week ago :

https://skipps-things.tumblr.com/post/623908408407539712/inspired-by-this-amazing-idea-twststarrycorridor

Nobody told you would end up in this peculiar predicament with the head of the Heartslabyul dorm, the rowdy country pretty boy of Pomefiore, and the mischievous vice dorm leader of Diasomnia.

All four of you were sitting in a enchanted room that was bare, except for a minimal of stuff, most was for the purpose entertainment to pass the time like the tv in the room (that doesn’t work), and there was a suspicious bucket in the corner of the room that nobody wanted to touch, so you all strayed away from it.

You all tried to get out, but strangely Riddle’s and Lilia’s magic couldn’t break the enchantment that was placed on the room. So you were all stuck here bored out of your minds, with Riddle sorting dominos, and Lilia eating the candy that was placed in the room for you all, and you trying to soothe Epel down worried for the boy that looked like he was about to have a panic attack.

And how you all ended up in this rather peculiar situation?

Well it all started in a normal day for all of you.

— ✯

“Grim get back here!”

You yelled at the raccoon who likes to make your life more difficult than it already was.

Chasing him around the courtyard a sudden wind of debris flew straight at you trying to take cover quickly making you stop chasing that damn raccoon-cat. You shielded yourself covering your face with your arms, closing your eyes, and kneeling down.

When the wind died down you peaked open your eyes and stood up. There was a dead silence like the wind never happen. You thought the close was clear when a piece of paper smacked your face.

It hurt.

Your face stung as you removed the paper from your face. Scowling you were about to rip the paper in anger but you noticed writing on it.

As the curious being you are, before ripping the paper in shreds why not read to see what the paper is.

It does look like a note, maybe it was a cheat sheet for this weeks alchemy test?

It wouldn’t hurt to take a small peek.

— ☽

Lilia was floating upside down as he was unwrapping a lollipop. Happily popping the sweet sugary treat in his mouth. He didn’t throw his wrapper away yet, the lollipop that he’s eating contains cheeses jokes on the inside of the wrapper.

He likes to read them, just for the fun of it.

It said “Read Me” on the wrapper.

Straightening the wrapper out he began reading.

He quirked a brow while reading the writing on his wrapper.

He thought it was odd, but he shrugged it off and threw the paper away and continued to suck on his lollipop.

— ✯

Epel was grumpily sitting in a chair in Pomefiore dorm with a beauty face mask that was forced on his face by Vil who nagged him that to achieve beauty you have to have skin that puts Snow White to shame.

He’s been sitting there in front of the vanity mirror just glaring at the mask on his face waiting for the ten minutes on the timer to ring.

This whole beauty thing was stupid to him, if he knew that he would be in a dorm that consisted of people obsessed with looks he would have ran.

During his sulking the timer ticked down until it went off with a loud ring. Epel smiled ripping the mask off his face.

“Waahh?!”

He yelled in shocked as he saw his face in the mirror. His cheek had words inscribed into it.

He tried to rub it off hoping for it to come off but the more he rubbed his skin the more redder and irritated his skin became.

It wouldn’t smudge, not even a bit.

He started to panic even more.

How could he ever get this off his face?

Vil would go hysterical if he saw this

Or..maybe he can pass this as if he purposely got a tattoo on his face and show Vil that he can do whatever he wants!

He smirked at the last thought.

But then Vil would just cover it with makeup.

He frowned.

“I don’t want to have makeup on my face but before it’s put on me let me just see what these words say...”

— ☽

Riddle had everything sorted out.

The roses were painting red.

The tarts and cakes were done.

The tea was brewed.

The silverware and plates were perfectly set.

Nothing could go wrong for this Unbirthday Party.

“Everyone’s here,” Trey announced to him and Riddle nodded to him.

Riddle raised his cup of tea.

“Let the Unbirthday Party begin!”

Setting his half finished cup down, he scanned the trays of sweets that were laid out in front of him.

There was Chocolate Cake with chocolate piping on the inside. He likes chocolate, it’s sweet with a hint of bitterness but he wasn’t in the mood for a bitter taste today.

Then there was the Vanilla Cake with cheesecake covering it and fruits of strawberries, blueberries, peaches decorating the top of the cake.

It’s a splendid flavor that he wouldn’t pass it there wasn’t strawberry tart.

Yes, that’s the one that he’ll decline any sweet for.

He can see the crust baked nicely, with the strawberries on the top delicately placed to appease its viewers, tempting them to take a bite.

Riddle cut out a pice of the tart that made him forget about all the other desserts on the table.

Gently placing the slice on his plate that he can finally savor.

Grabbing his fork he grabbed a piece of the tart and placed it in his mouth.

He closed his eyes to relish the flavors buzzing his tastebuds.

He would of had relish it if he didn’t feel something that should not be in a tart.

He’s eyes snapped open and he slowly pulled out a long strip of paper that came out of his mouth.

His body shook with anger and the rest of the students soon noticed that their dorm leader was turning red.

Oh no.

The students trembled in fear as Riddle started to interrogate them and the ones that Riddle had “interrogated” were faced with Riddle’s unique magic “Off With Your Head”

Trey stepped in to try to calm down the situation.

“Riddle maybe it was an accident?” Trey tried to reason with Riddle that he should calm down and try to think rationally.

He started to calm down after a couple of minutes.

“I’m sorry for causing a scene and ruining the Unbirthday Party.”

Some students ended up whispering about still having Riddle’s magic collars on their neck.

He won’t remove it until he finds the culprit.

“It’s fine you just overreacted. What I truly care about is what’s on that paper? Is it from a secret admirer?” Cater teases him.

Riddle’s face bursted red “Stop.” He commanded food Cater.

The paper was still in his hand, he brought it closer to his face. “I’m also curious to know how this paper ended up in the tart?”

He opened it.

✧*:･ﾟﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

“What kind of sick and twisted person would do something like this?” You muttered under your breath. Looking anywhere in the room, you were determined to get out of here.

Maybe it was you but was the room getting smaller or was that claustrophobia getting to you?

The tv that you thought didn’t work began to flicker.

“Hey the tv is turning on,” you called out to the others pointing towards the tv that now was producing static.

“Oh now the tv works after all these hours.” Epel sarcastically said.

“Greetings to you all.” A voice broadcasted from the tv, it sounded muffled by the static but the words could be heard clearly.

“Who are you and why did you bring us here.” Riddle commanded to the person who we think is the one that brought us here.

“It’ll be so boring if I reveal my identity so early in this game.”

“Game?” Epel questioned.

“What buffon nonsense do you think you have the audacity to make us play your game.” Riddle seethed with anger.

“Then how you’ll get out?” If the person behind the screen was seen you bet they would have a smirk on their face.

Lilia rubbed his chin and was thinking “So the only way we can get out is if we play this game of yours.”

“Precisely.”

“Then what game do you want us to play?” Epel asked.

“A game of...Hide and Seek!”

“That’s it? That’s all you want us to play? A game of Hide and Seek?” Riddle narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“Yes, no tricks or anything! Just a simple game of plain old Hide and Seek!”

“This guy is weird...” You said quietly to yourself.

“I heard that.”

You started to sweat.

“I shall pick a number between one through twenty, whoever gets it right will be the seeker.”

“Twenty.”

“Seven.”

“Fourteen.”

“Eighteen.”

After telling the kidnapper your numbers there was a silence of suspense for a while.

“Riddle was right twenty was the correct number.”

Riddle tch and crossed his arms.

A door started to form on one of the walls of the room revealing a dark hallway that you swear looks familiar.

“Also I almost forgot to tell you all that if you try to escape...it would be useless, save your energy for the game! You have two days. I’ll be watching!” The tv shut down and the static gone.

“He’ll be watching us so he wouldn’t want us to not take it serious and hide in the most obvious places. If we want to get out of here then we’ll have to take it seriously.” Riddle told us

Lilia slightly smiled“Oh I’ll give him what he wants, it won’t be easy finding me.”

Epel walked to the entrance “We should hurry, the more time we spend on talking we’re wasting time to end this game early. I dont want to spend two days here.”

“I’ll count to one hundred.” Riddle went to a wall and started to count.

Epel already left the moment Riddle started to count which only left me and Lilia the only hiders still in the room.

Lilia walked over to me smiling “[Name] want to hide with me.” He gave you his adorable smile that showed his little fangs.

“Sure why not it’ll be more fun.” You smiled at him. Surely Lilia has been playing Hide and Seek for a very long time so he would have a lot more experience in finding the best hiding spots considering how mischievous he and you’ve seen your fair share of how good he is at hiding and scaring people.

✧*:･ﾟﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Walking with Lilia further into the hallway you would walk pass windows that showed the outside. High gray curved roofs were in your vision every time you would pass windows that you swear to yourself that you’ve seen before.

An eerily feeling set into the pit of your stomach and you started to get fidgety. Being with Lilia as made you notice a few things.

Now that you’re getting your thoughts together you found it strange that you’re now realizing that the voice from the tv sounds strangely like Lilia.

You glanced at Lilia who was walking by your side looking carefree with a smile on his face as if we weren’t being trapped here against our will and not forced to play a game that we were kidnapped for.

“Ooh here’s a stairway we could hide up there. It looks like a perfect spot.” He turned to you giving you a eye smile.

Your skin prickled with anxiety, deep in your mind you told yourself not to go inside but the way he was looking at you made you fear that you didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“Y-yeah lets go inside...” You gulped down your nervousness and gave him a smile to ensure him that your hesitant to go with him.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you towards his side and wrapped an arm around your shoulder caging you in. He got closer until his lips were beside your ear hovering over it.

“I can smell fear coming from you.” He grazed his fangs against your ear making you hitch your breath at the coolness of his touch.

There was a door in at the top of the staircase and he quickly pushed you into the room before you had a chance to run.

There were windows in the small room showing the outside, you saw roofs and then you saw the Ramshackle Dorm in the distance.

You were inside the castle all along.

You slowly turned to face Lilia who stood in front of the door with a small grin on his face.

He finally got caught.

“It was you who did all of this,” you sneered in disgust.

“Why.” You commanded him to tell you.

“Ah it took this long to have someone figure it that it was me all along. I thought the others would be smart enough to realize that it was my voice on the tv and notice that my bats were watching them all along. I used advance forms of magic for all of this to happen so no one would suspect me.” He gave a mischievous giggle.

Your eyebrows ceased and you backed away from him.

“That doesn’t answer my question. Why did you do all of this?”

“Why?” Now he was toying with you.

“Well I became interested in you. It isn’t everyday where a magicless human comes from an unknown world and gets in all sorts of trouble and gets out of it. As time went on I began to watch you more until I couldn’t wait any longer to claim you as mine.”

“And I dragged those other two because I do really wish to play Hide and Seek and I knew I would get the best reactions out of them.” He quickly added in a bored tone.

“Did you saw that you would make me yours?” You scoff “Like I’ll ever be yours after you pulled this trick.”

“Too bad you don’t have a say in this.”

Your back slammed against the wall with your arms above your head. His grip on your wrist was tight making your wrist go red. You tried to rip your arms from his grasp but he had them tightly locked in his hands. You tried kicking him but you couldn’t move you legs, he put a spell on them to not be able to move. You became paralyzed from the waist down.

“Get away from me!” You screamed at him, tears prickled the corner of your eyes.

He shushed you and move his head so his nose was rubbing your neck. He inhaled your scent and licked his lips.

“What a sweet smell you emulate. You smell so sweet like candy.” He licked a strip of your neck causing goosebumps on your skin.

“What are you going to do with me?” You asked him trying to pull you face away from him. He grabbed your jaw and pulled you to look at him.

He smiled seeing the fear in your eyes, sweat ecumulating on your face, and the shivers that your body produced.

“This.”

He sunk his fangs in your neck, causing you to scream in pain. He muffled your mouth as he continued on to suck your blood.

Crimson blood trailed down your neck from the wound he caused and he licked it, he couldn’t let no blood of yours would go to waste.

The energy that you had started to dissipate the more he fed on your blood. Your vision started to get blurry, your head started to get dizzy, and you were started to see black spots.

You couldn’t move as you were becoming sluggish, growing slack in his hold. The sound of his sucking and licking was the only thing you could hear as you grew colder and everything went dark.

In a hallway of the castle a light of a lantern held by Riddle illuminated the dark hallway.

Epel walked behind Riddle, he heard a noise sounding that sounded like a scream and he grabbed Riddle’s arm clinging to it.

“I wonder if [Name] and Lilia san are alright? We can’t seem to find them.”

“I’m sure they’re fine.” Riddle said annoyed at Epel’s clinging.

The writing on the papers that they all had read said

“A Night To Be.”

✧.｡. *.

┊┊┊┊ · °

┊┊┊✯ • *

┊┊☽　　　 * ·

┊┊ *

┊✯　　° °

☽ * · *

credits go to @twststarrycorridor and @skipps-things for the the fanfic idea and artwork of it, sorry if this was dark then you intended it to be when you thought of it

[crystxlclear]

sudden desire

chapter six: previously on: chaotic stupid

part seven of sudden desire

prologue / one / two / three / four / five / masterlist

in which two best friends won’t admit they’re in love so decide to have a baby together instead.

pairing: marcus pike x original female character (coraline meyer)

word count: 8.2k (oh yikes)

warnings: no beta read, brief mentions of pregnancy i guess?

author’s note: this took me weeks to write oh my god

Coraline hasn’t told anyone about Marcus’ offer. Not even Loren, when they’d met for the first time in months, when her boyfriend finally got a night off work to look after Maisie. Not even when they’d drunk too much wine and her head was so fuzzy that she probably would have told anyone anything, if they’d asked. She’s not even sure where she’d start. 

Coraline has never been the best at keeping secrets. At least, not her own, and definitely not when she was younger, and she’s always wondering whether that’s why the media seem to think she’s easy prey for their rumours. It never seemed to bother Scott; he was the same, so open and willing to talk about anything and everything with anyone who asked. But it’s different with Marcus. He’s private by necessity but he’s also private by choice, too. She wonders if he’s always been like that, if before the heartbreak he’d told her about occurred, if he’d opened up to people. If what had happened to him had made him closed off. He’s never seemed like a closed book before (and, hell, maybe he isn’t, maybe he just doesn’t want to relive those times; and he doesn’t have to tell her anything, anyway) but he’d opened up to her after he’d made his ‘baby suggestion’. And all she can think of now, since he’d recounted the stories, was that those women - the ex-wife who’d claimed he was too ‘nice’, who’d claimed he was too ‘clingy’ and ‘needy’, and all that utter bullshit, and the one who’d left him for another man, left him alone in D.C. without a single person to lean on - must be completely insane to think that he isn’t good enough for them. Marcus Pike is too good for anyone, she thinks. He’s the best person she knows. Marcus Pike makes Coraline want to be a better person. They didn’t end up ordering takeout that night, like they always did. Coraline had found herself reaching to the back of her cupboards, searching blindly for some ingredients she wasn’t even sure she had, just for him. Marcus loves breakfast. Like, he really loves it, she’s come to find. And at any time of the day, really. And there’s a diner he frequents; it’s near his office, on the other side of town, tucked away just out of Cora’s reach. Though, he has taken her there once before - just after they first met, when she’d tagged along with her older brother to the FBI debriefing, to check his gallery was secure; she’d thought it was a date, until he’d prefaced his offer with an insistence that it was ‘just as friends’; Marcus had spent the whole time raving about the pancakes he ate every Friday — a treat for a long week’s worth and a change from his usual burger and fries — how he’d found the place by accident and it was part of his daily routine, now, until Coraline had given in and let him order for her, since he knew the place better than she did - most of the time, they see each other when it’s late, when he’s already been for his almost daily pancake-fix and she’s collapsed to the sofa with her legs draped over the armrest. They haven’t been back since, though she’d jump at the chance if he ever asked again. Coraline may be a pretty awful cook, and she may not be able to make pancakes as good as the ones he likes, but surely it’s just the sentiment that counts. He’s spent far too many evenings eating greasy Chinese food at her behest, insisting that he’s fine with it, because it makes her feel better. It’s the least she could do. She’d spent an hour making perhaps the world’s worst pancakes - even as Marcus insisted that she didn’t have to cook for him, that they could just order pizza or something if they wanted a change - pancakes so bad that she’d had to drench the damn things in syrup just to disguise the odd sour taste that somehow tinged every mouthful. Marcus had eaten it without issue, even as she’d apologised endlessly for her dreadful culinary skills and insisted that he didn’t have to eat them if he didn’t like them. They’d made him smile, though. And it melted away the last dregs of awkwardness between them. That was the pancakes’ purpose. It didn’t matter that they were utterly terrible, borderline inedible and a little lumpy. 

But, when Monday rolls around and her older brother, Daniel, comes to her with his regular insistence that she brings that ‘nice FBI agent she’d made friends with’ to their weekly dinner at his house, she took him up on the offer, for a change. She’s never asked because she’s always assumed he would say no; they weren’t dating and it was a little weird. Surely an invite to weekly family dinners was something couples did.

She always ignores Daniel, used to the persistent insistence to ask him. Relenting — finally — comes with the sense that she feels as if she owes him now, though. To make it up for her dreadful pancakes with Daniel’s wife’s cooking, which was always amazing. To make up for the week of unforgivable ignorance. To help them move past the ill-thought-out offer of a baby. She’s sure he’ll still say no, when she calls him on his lunch break, when she knows he’ll be sat at the counter in that same diner, enjoying that brief moment of time away from paperwork. Their lunch breaks line up, those rare and all-too-rare moments when they have time to relax, the tension in their shoulders owed entirely to their morning workloads melting away at the soft sounds of the other’s voice. 

His voice is pleasant, like it always is; Marcus Pike’s voice is like serenity to her, all gentle and familiar, and, this time, he sounds amused when he answers the phone. “Well, this is a nice surprise.” His voice crackles through the phone. The reception in the diner is terrible - it’s the only thing he ever seems to complain about - but she can still make out the sound of the smile in his voice. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Good afternoon to you, too, Marcus.” Coraline hums, shoving the last of her laundry into the washing machine, her phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear. “I’m calling with an invitation.”

“An invitation?” He ponders, musing over the idea. “To one of those glamorous celebrity parties you’re always telling me about?”

She scoffs. “Oh, you wish, Pike. It’s an invite to my brother’s for dinner. Incredibly glamorous, I know.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone for a few moments. She almost regrets asking. She does when he replies. “Are you sure?” He questions. “I’m not sure-”

Coraline nods as if he can somehow see her through the phone. “I’m sure,” she insists, “Besides, Daniel and Kimmy want you to come.”

“Coraline, I don’t know-”

“Marcus, don’t make me beg.” She chuckles, but it’s a nervous chuckle. She knew he would say no; that’s why she hasn’t asked him, to avoid this awkward conversation between them when he was uncomfortable and looking for a subtle way to turn her down without hurting her feelings. “Please.”

There’s another pause as he lets out another muffled laugh. His tone is teasing when he speaks again; she can practically see the smirk as he sips his coffee. “And what’s in it for me?”

She bites the inside of her cheek, stifling a giggle. 

She could think of a lot of ways to repay the favour. 

Cora pushes through the onslaught of entirely… inappropriate thoughts, especially to have about your best friend and offers up the most innocent of offerings, though her voice slips to find that low, rumbling register reserved only for the discrete. Mundane words tipped in something intriguing. “I’ll never make you pancakes again.”

“Deal.” He snaps far too quickly through the phone. 

Her mouth falls open. “Marcus,” she gasps, mock offence in her voice. 

There’s silence for a moment. “Sunshine,” Marcus calls out through the static, like he’s sure he’s actually offended her. Like he could ever do that. “I thought your pancakes were great.”

Even a lie sounds like the truth coming from his lips. 

“Damn right they were,” she insists. 

When she lies, even when it’s laced with laughter, it sounds like one. She’s glaringly aware that’s a complete contradiction, given her job.

“Pancakes- real pancakes, diner pancakes- on me for a month.”

“Tempting.”

“...Two months?”

“Fine, fine. If you insist.”

The rush of breath that escapes her in relief is so embarrassingly loud, she’s sure he can hear her. She’s glad he’s not there, watching her, so he can’t see the wide, uncontrollable, entirely tooth-filled grin that splits across her face; she’s sure she looks maniacal, sat in her trailer on set, covered in thick dustings of fake mud from that morning’s scenes. 

She’s never been more thankful for the solitude of a phone call before. 

“I do insist. I’ll pick you up at five.”

Amusement, again, peeks through in his tone. She’s sure he’s eating pancakes — those blueberry pancakes with mountains of ice cream — because they’re the only thing that makes him happy like this, especially on a heavy workday. “In that super-fancy car of yours?”

She’s had her car for twelve-years. But it’s even older than that, fixed up by her father in his garage for what seemed like years. It’s an old run-down black Camaro from the seventies that she’s had since she was sixteen; far too trusty and sentimental to let go of, driving her cross-country from LA to DC without a hitch those six-months ago. It lives in the private parking lot down the street from her apartment complex, tucked away, out of use most days, because the traffic of DC is far too heavy in the mornings and it’s easier to walk or take the Metro instead. Weekly nights spent at Daniel’s on the opposite end of the city gave her an excuse to pull her car from its designated parking space and navigate the busy streets to the comforting hum of the engine.

Coraline knows Marcus loves her car, as much as he jokes about it. It’s evident in the way his face lights up when he sees her sat there, parked down the street outside the FBI headquarters; his smile illuminated by the harsh street lamps overhead, cutting through the darkness alongside the bright nearby office lights and flickering neon signs that cast stained glass shadows on the sidewalk. He’s watching her as she taps her fingers in time to a song she doesn’t recognise on the radio. 

Marcus ducks into the car with a ‘hello’ lingering on his lips and ducks to kiss Coraline’s cheek; it’s a friendly gesture that lingers, not unfamiliar as a display of friendly affection between them, but still swelling that giddy sense of happiness in her chest like it’s the first time. 

“I brought the beer.”

Coraline glances over at him warmly as she starts up the car. The engine rumbles to life, almost sounding unhealthy. She reaches over and squeezes his shoulder a little, fingers falling down his arms. 

Marcus had insisted he bring something; a repayment for dinner, for Daniel and Kimmy inviting him over. She’d insisted he didn’t need to — neither of them would mind; they just wanted to meet the lead in so many of Coraline’s stories, for real this time — but then he’d insisted that he had to, that his mother would never let him live it down if she found out he forgot his manners and turned up without a thank you gift. So she’d told him to bring beer (not wine, definitely not wine, for Daniel’s sanity’s sake). And he’d obliged. 

Not just that cheap beer, either. But the expensive kind, the kind you could only find in certain places if you were looking for it. He’s spared no expense. 

He doesn’t need to impress them, though. They already like him well enough, on the basis of Coraline’s endless stories. 

“Is what I’m wearing okay?” He questions as he smooths his hands over the front of his suit jacket. “I didn’t have time to change.”

He’s still wearing his work clothes — somehow still relatively undisturbed even after hours of the paperwork he’d been half-complaining about to her the night before — yet he still looks great. He’d probably look great in just about anything. Coraline looks entirely underdressed next to him; just blue jeans and a white shirt, and the thin golden pendant her mom had given her the night before her wedding hangs against her chest. She doesn’t wear it much anymore, not since the divorce. But Marcus had seen it the other day, while he was waiting for her to finish getting ready, perusing the expanse of her drawers, intrigued by the jewellery that hung from a stand. He’d said it was beautiful - with the delicately carved bird in the middle, surrounded by flowers - and she found herself reaching for it every morning since. 

She’s not sure why. She just likes to wear it, now.

“You look great.” As always.

He scans what she’s wearing, casual and, as the wheels being their customary groan when she sets the car in reverse. “It’s not too much?” He’s shuffling awkwardly, hands tugging at the lapels of his suit jacket. Is he nervous?

She watches as he moves, shifting slightly in his seat; she’s watching from the corner of her eyes, half her focus on Marcus, the other on pulling out onto the busy road. He’s staring straight ahead, out at the car ahead of them, like the license plate is somehow the most interesting thing in the world right now. His brows are furrowed. The air between them is thick with anticipation and it’s like something has changed; for good or bad, she’s never sure with them anymore, not these past few months, but his hand is gripping his knee and somehow everything seems heavy again. 

He’s met Daniel before, it’s not that. Briefly, sure. But that couldn’t be it. He’s usually so relaxed and laid back, especially around her, never worried about making a joke or goofing off. She doesn’t like seeing him like this.

She reaches over and squeezes his hand; he steadies himself and tilts his head towards her. Her smile is warm and bright and comforting, and the gentle brush of her fingers over the hand that grips his knee relieves the inexplicable anxiety that has strangled him from the moment she’d invited him to dinner. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know what it means, what any of it means. Why things are suddenly so different between them after six months of being nothing but friends. 

Why he, for some godforsaken reason, thought suggesting they have a baby together was a good idea.

Did he really want that? 

Either way, he’s pretty sure Coraline doesn’t. Not with him, at least.

Cora hums, eyes dropping to herself and the wrinkled jeans she’d fished out from the back of her wardrobe. “Least you made an effort.”

…

Daniel Meyer is seven years older than Coraline. He’d always been fiercely protective of his younger sister when they were growing up; not in that abrasive, overbearing and destructive way, the way when your life is governed strict and rigid, but Daniel Meyer didn’t take kindly to people hurting his sister. Growing up, he helped her deal with things - the bullying in high school, the heartbreak of her first breakup - so it only seemed fitting that, when she’d moved to D.C., the same place he’d called home with his family for eight years, that he would do the same. That’s how their weekly family dinners were born, from his insistence to help his younger sister settle into her new home, in a new city she barely knew.

For the longest time, Scott Meyer was public enemy number one to him. Sometimes she wonders, now that it’s all over, the divorce is final - now that he’s out of her life for good - if he still is. Or if they’ve really all moved on like she thinks they have.

The second they arrive at his front door, greeted warmly by the smell of pie and a grinning Kimmy, wearing an apron and slightly flustered, looking just as welcoming as always. Her blonde waves - the waves Coraline has always been so jealous of - are pinned up haphazardly out of her face, half-spilling down her back from the clip that tries to hold it in place. 

“Good evening.” Her voice sounds like a song, light and sweet, and her smile is even wider than usual as she glances between her sister-in-law and Marcus, who stands a little behind her, radiating that familiar confidence that Coraline is used to. The half-hour drive had relaxed him enough that, now he’s met with Kimmy’s friendly face, he’s the one that’s comforting her, with a gentle hand on her back and the silent reassurance that things will be okay.

Coraline is mostly worried about him. She's still not entirely sure he wants to be here. She doesn’t blame him. 

Kimmy leans forward and kisses Coraline’s cheek in greeting, the usual gesture. 

“This- well, you know Marcus.” Cora ushers towards her best friend beside her when she pulls back.

“Marcus, of course!” Her face lights up even more. “I’ve heard a lot about you since we last met.” Kimmy’s tone is amused. Her eyes waver towards Coraline, a knowing look in her eyes. 

“It’s great to finally meet you, for real this time.” 

Kimmy’s eyebrow quirks up at Coraline for a moment, the hint of a smirk as Marcus introduces himself, that same FBI Agent-trained surety tipping the edges of his voice, before she finally ushers them inside. It’s starting to get cold; the evening chill is creeping in from the river beside the house, reaching out towards them. Coraline is glad she’d tossed a coat onto the backseat of her car before she’d left and Marcus tugs his suit jacket tighter around himself. “Come in before you both freeze to death.”

The house is alive with the joyous yet shrill screams of children. Coraline’s nephews, to be exact. It always is. Every night. Every week she turns up and they’re running around, playing whatever game they deem fit that evening. Half the time, Coraline gets pulled into their games, whenever she’s not helping Kimmy in the kitchen (which isn’t often, because she’s hopeless at it). Of course, today’s no different.

The two of them are darting around the living room, screaming bloody murder as they wear themselves out; Finley, the oldest, is chasing Elliot, his curls falling haphazardly over his eyes. She can’t tell what they’re yelling about - she never can; it’s just a tangled mess of screamed words - but Elliot is giggling so much that he has to stop every couple of minutes to catch his breath. Finley stops with him, pulling himself from their games for a second to wait as they both regain their composure and carry on. They wear themselves out before dinner and then everything seems to go off without a hitch.

Cora hangs her coat on the hooks by the door and kicks off her sneakers, and Marcus follows suit with his jacket and dress shoes. He looks to her for guidance, that immediately understandable hesitation of being in an unfamiliar house, and this silent agreement settles between them as she sweeps her way into the living room. Her footsteps were light; so light, in fact, that she reached her nephews without disturbing them, startling Elliot when she scooped him up in her arms and spun him around. He complains at first, ducking his head away as she tries to kiss his cheek, letting out the most dramatic and exaggerated noises. Eventually, he gives in and curls his arms around her neck, pulling her close for a second, before he starts to kick again, restless in her arms. 

Finley takes to wrapping himself around her right leg and suddenly the three of them end up sprawled out and giggling brightly on the carpet.

Marcus watches from the doorway. He thinks she’ll be a great mom someday. It’s the little things she takes in her stride.

“Hello to you too, Cora.” The low, amused voice of Coraline’s brother, Daniel, comes from inside the living room. 

“Hey there.” She’s still giggling. She can’t help it. Finley and Elliot unhook themselves from her and each other and resume their endless laps of the couch. 

Daniel stands over her with raised eyebrows. His tie has long-since been discarded and he cuts a casual figure as he cradles the youngest of the Meyers, Piper. She’s only six months and the smiliest baby Cora has ever seen. Usually, she’s asleep by the time Coraline arrives, either cradled in her father’s arms or tucked away in the crib upstairs; today, her legs are kicking back and forth and her hands are fisting into his dress shirt. She’s restless - she knows sometimes that she is, that when they finally cradle her to sleep, it’s best that they leave her or risk jolting her awake for the rest of the night - but she’ll let her wriggle around in her arms for hours if it means catching up on the time she’s missed with her niece all those nights she’s been asleep.

“I brought Marcus.” Cora points towards Marcus as he leans against the doorframe, watching her with fond eyes. She tilts her head back to look at him; he’s smiling and she wants to reach for him. She reaches for Daniel’s extended hand instead, pulling herself up from the floor. She groans uncomfortably, her back aching a little. “Marcus, you’ve met my brother, Daniel.”

Coraline reaches out for her niece; that brooding feeling swells bright and burning again when she takes her, cradling her close into her chest, and she can’t help but glance up at Marcus as Daniel moves to greet him - just barely acquaintances but familiar enough to avoid those awkward initial introductions. He’s watching her, still, as she says ‘hello’ to her niece and gently rests her cheek against the top of Piper’s head. It’s like they’re both wrapped up in that moment where it’s just the two of them - all too fleeting, cut short by Daniel’s greeting and the persistent shouting of children - but it feels lovely. Even if this moment is all they’ll ever get.

Coraline savours the moment with her niece because it’s rare and often fleeting; her, Daniel and Kimmy’s schedules are crammed tight with work and unavoidable commitments and that weekly dinner is the only time each week they can spare to see each other. If Piper is asleep, then Coraline won’t get to say ‘hi’ to her niece. It’s an unfortunate consequence of their careers.

“That’s Elliot-” She points her finger at her smallest nephew. “-and that’s Finley-” Then to the tallest of the two. “-and this… this is Piper.” She bounces the tiny baby lightly in her arms, turning her body so Marcus could get a glimpse at the small smile that pulled at Piper’s lips as her small fist grabbed at Coraline’s shirt.

She’s already told him about them all before. He knows their names. But this is the first time he’s ever met the kids. And it’s somehow maybe the most terrifying thing he’s done in a long time, including that one warehouse shootout his team found themselves in a few weeks earlier.

He feels overdressed and a little ridiculous, just stood there, looking like a lost puppy in the entryway, in his suit and tie. Unsure what to do with his hands or his eyes, or what the hell to say to cut through his quiet. He usually brought a change of clothes to the office if he knows he has somewhere to be but, somehow, in his blind panic at the idea of meeting the family, he’d forgotten to grab anything to change into. And that ease in meeting new people, that effortless skill he’d built up over years of practice, the perks of the job, just seems to have melted away the second he stepped into the house behind Coraline, under the well-meaning scrutiny of Kimmy. This is all normal for her - this weekly routine she’s fallen into - but it’s unfamiliar territory for him. 

It almost feels like something it isn’t. Meeting the family. That point in a relationship when you first realise things are serious. Only this isn’t a relationship. And he’s already met Daniel and Kimmy before, even if it was briefly, and while he was working and distracted with planning a stakeout. And Coraline. Always Coraline. But something about her smile just commanded attention, back then - it still does - even when she tries to blend into the background. Once he noticed her. Sat alone at an empty conference table, comically-oversized name badge pinned to the front of her dress, her lips curling up a little as she sipped the sour FBI coffee.

Everyone else had passed the glass-walled room without even a second glance. 

He, on the other hand, was convinced he’d just seen a ghost. She’d almost startled him, breath leaving his chest. An utter cliche. 

Marcus had recognised her face from TV - though, admittedly, he wasn’t really up-to-date on pop culture, definitely lingering a couple of decades behind, age and time catching up on him, spare time buried beneath a mountain of paperwork to distract himself from Teresa and the unfamiliarity of D.C. - but he always remembers thinking she was pretty. Really pretty. But he always finds it a little embarrassing how much she a hold over him that day, how he’d had to take a second to psych himself up, talk himself down from that nervous ledge he was staring over, before he even thought about entering the room.

It’s weird, looking back, thinking how much has changed. But the changes keep coming, thick and fast, and sometimes it becomes less and less obvious what they are anymore.

“Marcus.” Daniel reaches out a hand for him to shake. He shakes it graciously and says his hellos. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

That’s the second time he’s heard that today. Coraline rolls her eyes a little. It’s not the first time she’s heard it, either. It almost makes Marcus laugh but then she smiles again, half-concealing a grin, and he forgets what he’s thinking about for a moment.

But then he wonders what she tells them about. Whether those stories are good or bad, whether they paint him in colour or in black and white.

With Coraline, he figures it’s probably the brightest landscape of technicolour, regardless of who she’s talking about.

“I’m glad Cora finally asked you to come.”

“Well, you talk too much. I didn’t want to bore him.” Cora shrugs, her full attention on Piper. 

“More like scare him away.”

He’s not sure she could ever scare him away.

“Finley is terrifying,” she admits with a giggle but she seems distant. She looks up to raise an eyebrow at him again. Her words are slow, almost drawn out. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to get out while you still can.” It’s meant to be light and joking, and Daniel laughs at her words. Given the way she’s looking at him, he’s not sure.

She just keeps looking at him like there’s no one else around.

She can’t help it. She keeps trying. It isn’t working.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Daniel insists as the boys rush past Marcus; he has to step out of the way to avoid them, smiling as they manoeuvre around him and race out of sight into the back of the house. He smiles fondly as they pass. “They’ll calm down in a second.”

“You hope they’ll calm down.” Coraline jabs her older brother in the ribs playfully. He chuckles as lightly as he can but it's obvious he’s tired; his shoulders slump and his eyes linger closed a little longer than normal, Coraline notices. He’s been working flat-out at his gallery every day, then running home to help with the kids. And Piper is a restless baby - difficult to get to sleep which means that, if she’s asleep when she arrives, she can’t say hello for risk of waking her up - so, unless Daniel or Kimmy are holding her while the house is still alive and humming around her, she refuses to fall asleep. “I think-” She looks towards Marcus. He’s inched closer into the room, now, but he’s still lingering like he needs to be invited in. “-you’ll just have to get used to it.” She hums.

“I’m still not used to it and they’re my kids,” Daniel grumbles, almost to himself. 

“Piper seems okay with it.” Marcus points out. He watches as his best friend cuddles the tiny baby close to her chest. 

Piper’s looking up at Cora with the brightest eyes. They’re Coraline’s eyes - Daniel’s too, he assumes - that light emerald green that sparkles beneath the warm living room light. Her mouth is in an ‘o’ shape, fascinated, as she stares. She looks utterly transfixed by her aunt’s face as she carries on their idle, gentle conversation, lightly bobbing her up and down, cradling her softly to sleep. Her eyelids were drooping, sleep gently pulling her in. She’s humming gently, whenever she’s not speaking; Marcus isn’t even sure she realises she’s doing it. That it’s just some subconscious instinct inside her, telling her to sing to the baby so she can sleep. She’s drawing gentle circles on her back through her onesie. Slow, idle circles that slow the wriggles and the kicking of his legs, lulling her off to sleep ever-so-slowly. 

It’s like she’s a natural. She knows exactly what to do every time; with Piper, with Maisie. It’s like second nature and there’s this even brighter glow, brighter than usual, when she settles into the role. She takes it all in her stride and seems to forget the world around her just for a moment. 

“How do you do that every time? Can you come and do that every night?” He jokes. But he doesn’t seem to be entirely joking. 

She hums. “Perhaps-” She rests her cheek against the top of her head as lightly as she dares without disturbing her. “Perhaps I’m just a superhero.”

The yells of kids echo through the house, the hammering of feet pounding against the wood floor. Kimmy’s muffled exasperated calls for quiet come from the kitchen, falling on deaf ears as the boys continue to charge through the back of the house. 

Coraline catches her brother’s gaze. “Go and help.” She’s noticed the way he’s been watching his daughter anxiously, worried that she won’t fall asleep through all the noise and excitement and the gentle hum of Coraline’s made-up song. “I’ve got her,” she insists. 

“Are you sure?”

Piper is slowly drifting off to sleep, even despite the noise. Just at the warmth of her aunt cradling her and the gentle hum of her sweet voice lulling her asleep. “I’ve got her,” she repeats. “Go and help Kimmy.”

Daniel’s shoulders slump in relaxation. He mouths a ‘thank you’ as he jogs from the room, calling out to his sons to stop them from charging around, insisting that they wash their hands and settle down for the sake of their sister. 

Now, it’s just Coraline, Marcus and a half-asleep Piper left alone in the living room. 

The tension in the air is thick and heavy for a moment. 

“Marcus, you’re staring,” she points out. She’s not even looking at him, just can just feel the weight of his kind gaze and it sets her heart racing at a hundred miles an hour. “I’d let you hold her-“ She says as he steps a little closer; now Daniel is out of the room, he’s relaxed. It’s like, without him there, he can pretend it’s just the two of them and Piper curled up content against Cora’s chest, even despite the yell of children’s voices and the unfamiliar surroundings. “-but, if I did that, we’d never get her off to sleep.”

“It’s alright,” he whispers, “I think she’s happier with you.” He settles beside her.

Coraline’s thumb brushes over Piper’s cheek and the baby smiles a tiny smile, eyes still close and fisting her hands tighter into the white material of her shirt. There’s a blissful silence that settles between the three of them — just for a moment — when she looks up at him beside her, watching the pair of them sway gently to a seemingly silent song. The weight of the moment engulfs them like a tidal wave. 

“Marcus-“ she breathes out, barely loud enough for him to hear. But he does, in the relative silence, and the way she says his name rips the air from his lungs, like the first time she’d surprised him the day they’d met. Her green eyes are wide and wild and she’s looking between him and Piper like they’re the only things left in the world. 

They could do it.

He knows what she’s going to say, if she had the chance. If Daniel hadn’t returned, calling out to them that dinner was ready.

They could do it. He knows they could, she knows they could. They could have this fleeting moment for as long as they both live. Their own little version of paradise, together. No matter how terrible the idea seems to be, they could. But Coraline knows she can’t stay in that world forever. It’s temporary and, as much as she wants that, all day, every day, for herself and not through someone else, she knows she can’t let herself get too in over her head. 

Still, Marcus really does think she’ll be an amazing mom.

...

After much persuasion — and the promise of candy after dinner — Finley and Elliot finally settled down long enough for them to eat. Coraline had set Piper down to sleep in her crib upstairs, lingering perhaps a little too long to marvel down at her only niece, wondering what it would be like if she was looking down at her own daughter. 

She knows it’s a hopelessly bad idea. That the feelings will catch up with her and pull her under again. Sometimes she just can’t help it.

She returns with that fake smile Marcus has become a pro at noticing. She looks wistful, longing in her eyes, disguised by the small smile that takes over her face when she slides into the seat at the dinner table beside him. She smooths out her shirt and jeans, wrinkled from the baby. Another smile, an assurance that Piper is okay and sleeping soundly upstairs, and the conversation moves on to mostly idle chatter, and Daniel asking Marcus questions about himself. Coraline keeps shooting her brother glances whenever he asks a new question that almost seems too personal. He doesn’t mind one bit, though.

Marcus finds Coraline’s free hand under the table and squeezes at some point. She doesn’t want him to let go. 

“Auntie Cora?” Finley asks, leaning his chin on his hand to stretch across the table. His questioning call of her name breaks through the idle conversation they’re all having, like he’s demanding all their attention, and not just Coraline’s.

It steals a moment of quiet between them all.

“Nephew Finley?” She replies, mimicking his stance and the curious, furrowed-browed expression on his face. 

“When are you going to have a baby, like Piper?”

It’s a loaded yet completely innocent question on his behalf. He’s merely a curious five-year-old with no ill intentions, and no reason to believe it’s anything other than a normal question; Coraline doesn’t even flinch, even when Kimmy scolds her son sharply and insists he eats the rest of his dinner. Though, Marcus still sees the flicker of hesitation in her eyes. Instead, she just smiles and laughs that brightly enchanting laugh, tilting her head to the side in response to her nephew as he sinks back into his chair and pokes at his potatoes.

“Well, I don’t know,” she replies truthfully, “Soon, maybe.”

Marcus almost thinks her eyes waver towards him but it’s so quick that he reasons that, perhaps, he’s seeing things. 

“Soon?” Daniel catches up with her words. “You seeing someone?”

“Oh-“ Coraline swallows thickly. She shakes her head. “No, no, not at all. I’m just- optimistic, I guess.”

“I’m sure there’s someone out there for you,” Kimmy poses.

Coraline hums. Marcus doesn’t see the way her gaze trails towards him. “I’m sure there is.”

...

The rest of dinner passed without any more questions on the matter, Finley’s attention switching towards Marcus instead. He was persistent, firing questions at him across the dinner table like he was leading an interrogation, but Marcus kept answering just as enthusiastically as the first time. He’d skirted around the facts a little - it wasn’t exactly a great idea to tell a child, seemingly without a filter, that you were an FBI agent - but the whole exchange had been wonderful. Coraline was sad to see it finish when Kimmy announced the boys could have dessert and they'd leapt from their seats to race towards the cookie jar. 

Marcus had offered to help Kimmy wash up as a thank you but she’d brushed him off, and, eventually, he’d resigned to the living room with Daniel. It had taken Coraline months to convince Kimmy that she should let her help clean up, there was no way she would have accepted Marcus’ offer immediately.

Instead, it’s just Coraline and Kimmy, working in tandem to clean the dishes, while Daniel spends time with the kids after a long day at work, and pulls Marcus into their conversation like an old friend. 

“I’m sorry about Finn. He’s-” Kimmy shakes her head as she sets another plate down in the drying rack. “He’s been going through one of those... phases lately.”

“It’s fine, Kim, truly.” Coraline sets a couple of dry plates down on the counter and turns to smile at her, before carrying on her job. Sometimes Kimmy jokes about how ridiculous it is that they use so many plates since Piper was born. “He’s just curious,” she insists. “And he makes everything a little more colourful.” 

Kimmy chuckles. “That he does.” She washes down another plate. “So, Marcus is great.” She hums, changing the subject towards her with a quirk of an eyebrow and a small, knowing smirk on her face.

Coraline smiles. Though, it’s more to herself than Kimmy. “He really is, isn’t he?”

“Are you two… y’know… is there anything there or-?” 

“Oh, no! No, no. We’re just-” Friends. “Just friends.”

“Well-“ She quirks an eyebrow at her sister-in-law. “-maybe you should? Just see how it goes. One date at a time.” Kimmy’s suggestion is as innocent as Finley’s question over dinner. She doesn’t understand the weight it holds. And she doesn’t expect her to, anyway. They’re close but just barely close enough. “Things might surprise you and it’ll do you good to get back out there again after, y’know-“

“No, we-” She shakes her head and turns to finish putting away the plates in the cabinet. In the quiet, she hears Marcus laugh from the living room. It’s one of those whole-hearted laughs, when his head lulls back and his eyes screw shut and crinkle at the corner. She wonders which one of them made him laugh like that, or what made him laugh like that. She hopes Daniel hasn’t pulled out the picture albums; he’s worse for that then their parents. But, since Daniel had made his fortune as an art buyer, eventually to the point he’d made enough to buy his own art gallery, a year ago, Coraline should have known that he and Marcus would get on. They had a lot in common. She’s so glad he likes him, though she can’t imagine a reason why he wouldn’t. “Friends. Friends.”

There’s another silence and she can feel Kimmy’s eyes burning into the back of her head. She turns to see the tail-end of a raised eyebrowed glare, amusement tugging at the corner of her lips. “Well, you never know unless you try, Cora.”

“There will be no trying,” Coraline insists, jabbing Kimmy in the side with her nail. She grins and lets her blonde tresses fall over her shoulder. “Of any kind. He doesn’t see me that way.” She finishes. 

“Do you see him that way?”

Another pause. 

“No.”

Maybe that’s a lie. 

Maybe Kimmy knows that. 

Maybe Marcus knows that. 

Coraline isn’t sure whether she knows that, though. 

“Sure about that?”

Coraline scoffs and turns to continue packing dried, clean plates into the cupboards. “You’re worse than Dan, sometimes.” 

“Oh, I take offence to that.”

“Shut up and finish the dishes.” Coraline chuckles, crossing her arms and scowling at the lack of crockery left to dry. 

“Just don’t write things off so quickly,” she insists, “It might surprise you.”

...

Daniel and Kimmy had tried to persuade them to stay for drinks late into the evening. The boys were shipped off to bed at the usual time, complaining that they wanted to stay up instead, as usual. But Marcus has work in the morning and Coraline has a long string of interviews; the idea of a late-night sounds less than ideal, her eyes already stinging at the idea of staying up any later than they had it.

Instead, they’d make their excuses and leave, ducking away into Coraline’s car with an exhausted groan. The boys had run wild right up until they went to sleep, nagging Coraline and Marcus to play with them every five minutes, even as Kimmy and Daniel insisted that they settle down and get ready for bed. It’s still late when they leave, though. D.C is eerily quiet as they weave through the roads, small crowds of people scattered through the repeating streets of suburbia.

The car ride home is silent of their voices. Not that uncomfortable silence, from before, when things had been awkward between them and neither of them were sure where the other stood. But that kind of satiated, happy and, admittedly exhausted, silence that pools over them. The low hum of the car engine and the radio is persistent in the space between them. Marcus keeps stealing glances over at her as she drives; he can’t help it, but he doesn’t think she notices, her eyes far too focused on the road ahead of her. And, if she does, she doesn’t mention it. Just keeps letting him glance over at her as the street lights illuminate the gentle angles of her face.

He’s glad she never mentions anything. He’d be too embarrassed if she did.

Instead, she’s lost in the music. That blissful flicker of emotion that crosses her face when she hears a song she likes, when her eyes light up at the sound of one of her favourite songs. Her radio is always tuned into some old rock station - he has no idea what it’s called, it’s usually just a continuous loop of different songs cut with the low gravelly voice of a man who sounded like he’d smoked one too many cigars - and most of the songs are the same songs she’s playing on her record player when he arrives at her apartment and she’s dancing around the kitchen while she cooks. He recognises a lot of them from his college days, songs he used to play with his band. It makes him feel old, sometimes, when she tells him they’re songs she spent her teen years with, even though there aren’t too many years between them. 

It’s I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing that plays now; she’s a sucker for those objectively-cheesy rock ballads. They’re her mom’s favourites, too. And, maybe he won’t admit it, but Marcus has heard her favourites enough to count them amongst his, now. Maybe he just likes the way they make her smile. Coraline is humming along, her fingers drumming a steady rhythm against the top of the steering wheel idly as her eyes follow the road ahead. Every so often, a flicker of neon tints her in colour when they pass a takeout, the only things still open and busy. The curve of her profile and each curl of her hair is highlighted in red.

It’s these moments of distracted bliss, when everything seems to exist without a care in the world, that he likes the most.

It never lasts long enough.

He insists she just parks in the garage she usually uses, by her apartment building, and he’ll walk her home. She protests - because of course she does - offering to drive him all the way home instead, but it’s dark and even in this quiet, well-off part of town where the streets should be safe, you never know who might be lurking. Maybe it’s the things he’s seen and heard of in the FBI - everything he’s seen during his training, heard through whispers and stories in the office - but sometimes he can’t shake the simple action of making sure someone is safe. 

It’s still silent between them as they near Coraline’s apartment complex. That short two minute walk down the quiet, tree-lined street that sparkles with chains of fairy lights. It’s lethargic and lingering, each step heavy with the weight of something that echoes through the quiet neighbourhood.

“Cora, I’m sorry.”

It comes out of nowhere and it worries her. And Coraline has absolutely no idea why Marcus is apologising to her. As far as she’s concerned, he hasn’t done anything wrong. At least, not that she knows of. 

“For what?” She questions, brow furrowing up at him as they walk. Their hands keep brushing but she doesn’t have it in her to move her hand away.

“I had no right to drop the baby bomb on you like that,” he admits. He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck uncomfortably. When his hand drops, his fingers brush against her knuckles. “I’m sorry if I made you feel trapped. It was a terrible idea. I should have thought-“

“Yes,” she blurts it out before she can stop herself. She’s not entirely sure she’s thought this through. But she can’t help it.

“Yes, what?”

“The offer.” Her whisper is loud in the suddenly-stifling silence of the street. “If it’s still on the table- yes. I’ll have a baby with you.”

“Coraline-” He gulps and stops dead in his tracks. They’re outside her gate, now. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“And you won’t.” Coraline insists. She steps closer to him, sea-green eyes staring up at him with heavy expectation. He’s the one that suggested it. He’s the one that had laid in bed until the early hours of the morning, losing precious moments of sleep as his brain swam with questions, wondering whether he should suggest this to her in the first place, or if it was an awful idea. But, somehow, he can’t seem to convince himself that this is a bad idea, that he should just let her down easy, now. It’s seeing her with Piper, seeing her with Maisie, seeing how she lights up around them. 

If he can make her that happy, every single day, why the hell would he turn that opportunity down? 

Besides, he’s pretty sure it would make him equally as happy. He’s thought about having kids since he was just a kid himself. And god knows the world seemed to have it out for him when it came to love, things aren’t happening any time soon; he can’t really think of anyone better than Coraline to have a baby with.

And, as much as Coraline knows how recklessly stupid the whole idea is, she can’t bring herself to want anything more or less than this. Than him. “It is a terrible idea, y’know?”  She finds herself insisting, blinking up at him with those beautifully-wide eyes.

“Truly awful.” 

“And there are a hundred different things that could go wrong.”

“Hundreds.”

“But-“

“But-“

“Maybe we should… try? Maybe just for a little while. See what happens.” 

“Maybe we should.” He exhales long and deep out of his nose. “Maybe…” He tilts her chin up towards his with one finger and suddenly he’s kissing her. His fingers brush her jaw, curving up towards her ear and brushing into her hairline at the nape of her neck. Even the soft touch of his hand against hers as they walked was driving her insane but this, this is on another level.

It’s more than the first time they kissed. Less of a brief touch of lips, more of a wave of relief flooding through them both, unfamiliar feelings surging up inside them. This kiss is full of urging anticipation. She’s pulling him closer to her before she can stop herself, their chests flush, lips and hands strong and insistent against each other. 

The fumble to her front door seems like the most practised thing they’ve ever done. Familiar when it shouldn’t be, even as they bump into things on their way.

taglist: @wheresthewater

[manychocolatefactories]

CatCF Ruby Chocolate: Part 2, Wonka and Factory

WILLY WONKA

Willy Wonka in this version appears as a young man in his twenties. He is a really swell guy, always trying to be friendly, to joke, to act "cool" - but it usually fails, due to on one side the kids of the tour being pieces of sh*t, and on the other side Willy himself being quite outdated. All his references seem to date back to the 80s and 90s, early 2000s at most (and remember, this version takes places in the 2010s).

This Willy Wonka presents himself as the son of the original Willy Wonka. In fact let me describe you a series of three portraits:

First portrait, Willy Wonka Senior as he opened the factory at the turn of the century. A thin, youthful, good-looking man in his 20s.

Second portrait, Willy Wonka Senior as he closed the factory in the 50s-60s. Despite being technically in his 70s, he merely looks like a mature man in his 40s. He has "padded" and "thickened" a bit, growing a goatee and looking more like a typical "factory owner", but he still good-looking and charming.

Third portrait: Willy Wonka Junior. An identical twin of Willy Wonka Senior in his 20s.

Even weirder is when Willy Wonka Junior explains that he is actually around 30/40 years old, having taken over the Factory from his father in the 70s/80s - when he clearly looks like a 20s year old. But there are so many things weird about this Willy Wonka... He seems stuck in the 80s and 90s, and despite being youthful looking in general, he still has the stiff walk of old people, some gray in his hair, needs a cane and glasses, and a few wrinkles - probably from laughing or smiling too much. He jokes that being surrounded by vats of preservatives actually helped him stay young.

But the truth is that there always ever was one Mr. Willy Wonka. Yes, Wonka senior and Junior are one and same person. And yes, Mr. Wonka is around or over a hundred years old.

Remember when I said that this version takes place in the 2010s and is a "modern" one? Well, this is for the final twist.

Because what's more modern than... ALIENS!

Yes, there are aliens in there. The Oompa-Loompas are aliens!

Weren't expecting that, huh?

Willy Wonka was the young heir of an important industry baron. Yet, Willy was a dreamer. He didn't want to become a steel or wood baron like the rest of the members of his family. He wanted to do something with more imagination, more colors, more childlike. He then met the Oompa-Loompas, aliens stranded on our planet, and he made a deal with them.

The Oompa-Loompas offered him all sorts of alien technology and science that helped him create new, incredible, almost impossible candies. And thus, he became the first candy maker worldwide. The Oompa-Loompas are also the ones that helped him stay alive and rejuvenate all those years - by using their alien knowledge.

But one can't live forever, and Wonka is reaching its ending point. Despite all the Loompas efforts, he can't stop aging. And at the end of the day, he finds himself a sad little man. He tried many things during his life, and most apparently failed or backfired. He wanted to pursue his dream, and by consequence was rejected by his family. He helped his workers as best he could, but made their town dependant on his Factory. He tried to help the Oompa-Loompas hiding, but as a result fired everyone. He tried to help those he fired with free candy - not realizing he caused a wave of diseases. Wonka is, as we said before, a dreamer. As a result, he lacks a bit the rigorous thinking, the strict preparations, the long-term thinking his family tried to put into him. He is a bit too childlike, too whimsical, acting a bit too much on impulses. He tries to do what seems like the best thing at the moment, often forgetting to consider what it could cause in long-term goals. His meeting with Charlie is especially relevant, because he sees what his actions have caused on the descendants of his workers: caused their misery, both social and physical misery.

Wona never really "fit in" with anyone or anything. He never felt at ease with normal society, preferring all things odd and weird like him - and that's why he bonded so well with the Oompa-Loompas. But by isolating himself with them, he became even at more at odds with human society - locked inside his Factory he missed a lot of world's hostory and events, and his knowledge of the outside world is fragmentary. He still believes the Soviet Union is around!

Hopefully, things will get better (see Ending at the end of the post)

THE FACTORY:

Given the final twist on the story, the Factory has to look a bit like a flying saucer. However not just like any flying saucer - I think the main structure of the building should actually look like the "flying saucer", the confectionnary, the candy originated from Flanders and considered one of the "top best-liked British candies". Of course, the Factory doesn't just look like a flying saucer, it has to look like an actual factory (with doors, chimneys, etc...) but I imagine the main building, the main structure of the Factory has to be flying saucer-shaped. Probably because the Factory was built around the Oompa-Loompa's original flying saucer, when they first landed on Earth.

The interior of the Factory needs to be a mix of both sci-fi elements (after all, we are talking about alien technology) and of regular human aesthetic. Since the Factory was built around the flying saucer, a good part of it seems "regular". The Factory was built around the 1890s (maybe in the 1880s, maybe in the 1900s) and I think it keeps even to the present day some elements of this style. But since it also was "open for public" up until the 1950s/1960s, the buildings, style and "regular technology" was also probably updated/remplaced/renovated. I don't think however that Wonka changed a thing ever since the "closing" of the Factory - he must have stopped trying to make it more "up-to-date" since the Oompa Loompas took care of everything. So yeah... imagine a sci-fi flying saucer, with all around it 1890s buildings filled with 1950s/60s technology and furnitures.

Some rooms:

# The Greenhouse. This is the first room the kids visit on the tour. It is a gigantic, 19th-century shaped greenhouse, and it hosts only carnivorous plants. Yes, you heard well. You have regular Earth-carnivorous plants, mutated Earth-carnivorous plants, and some alien carnivorous plants. This idea was based on an episode of the French cartoon "My friend Marsupilami" (the episode being called "The Jaws of the Jungle", disponible on Youtube). In this episode, a chewing-gum factory raised carnivorous plants to steal their attractive, sugary and addictive pollen/essence to flavor their candies. Wonka basically does the same - to make his candies attractive and seducing, even addictive, he fills them with the products the plants create to attract their victims.

It is where Augustus Gloop meets his demise. Unable to resist the lure of the carnivorous plants, he gets entirely swallowed by them (in fact he is eaten by the biggest plant around). The devourer is being devoured. Will he get rescued before he gets digested?

# The Laboratory is the second part of the Factory the tour visits. It is here that here is a junction between the two part of the buildings. One side of the Laboratory is like a giant, massive kitchen. The other side is more like a science-fiction laboratory filled with machines, tubes and other robots. This is where Wonka prepares his candies, tries new recipes and tests (plus tastes) his products.

This is the room where both Violet Beauregarde and Marvin Prune meet their demise. Marvin, tired of not having any of his machines and electronic items working properly, steals some "Electrifying candies" (candies originally made to be able to prank people by creating static electricity with your own body or imitating the hand buzzer effect with your mere hand) and swallows them - but he eats too much and has a true electrocution (but it is more like a cartoony electrocution, he ends up all fried and charcoal-like and smoking). As for Violet, she of course takes the Three-Course Meal Gum. Instead of a blueberry transformation, she actually turns into several numerous colors, a true clown or Arlequin: her skin becomes blue (for the blueberry pie), and red (for the tomato sauce), and yellow (baked potatoes) and brown (roast beef)... Her hair too. (This ending fits with her "clown and circus" aesthetic).

At this point, the group leaves the first floor to go to the second one. Since the Factory is shaped as a "flyin saucer" (the candy), it has two levels, one corresponding to the "lower dome" and the other to the "upper dome".

At this point, the group leaves the first floor to go to the second one. Since the Factory is shaped as a "flying saucer" (the candy), it has two levels, one corresponding to the "lower dome" and the other to the "upper dome".it, Wonka offers the kids to try one of his new product not yet released (but completely safe): a special chocolate, designed to taste exactly like the thing you love the most. Elvira and Mike both take one, but they both say it doesn't have any taste (Elvirag because she truly doesn't "love" anything, she merely keeps liking new things every minute, and Mike because he doesn't love anything in this world). To Charlie however, it tastes as a strange mix between his parents' homemade cooking, and regular Wonka chocolate.

# The Squirrels Room. Pretty much identical to the one in the original works. This is where Elvira meets her demise. Since squirrels are of the latest trend, and a popular fashion, she tries to take one away. She ends up thrown down the garbage chute, into the furnace - just like how she discarded all sorts of perfectly good objects or pets just because they weren't popular anymore. And as it turns out, the furnace has just been lit... perfect for rubbish like her.

# The Television Room. Again, identical to the original works. It is another part of the "sci-fi" side of the Factory here.  Mike Teavee ends up in the television, just like in the original book. However, during the teleportation, he actually gets fused with the chocolate bar that was sent at the very same time (a bit like the teleporters in the Fly). As a result, Mike Teavee ends up being made of chocolate - a living chocolate boy. Now he will be forced to hide in the shadows (for the sun may make him melt), never going outside (dirt being unwashable and insects would try to eat him), doing nothing for he may break during sportive events... basically, it actually won't change anything to his life, so it's kind of a perfect win for him. Plus, if he is hungry in front of the television, he will eat a bit of himself as "snack".

# The Candy Landscape. The final part of the tour, what Wonka had intended to be the final piece of this wonderful show. This is basically a Garden of Eden made entirely of candy - just like previous versions. It is actually located in the basement of the Factory, under the ground. It is also where Charlie meets his demise - because yes, in this version Charlie has a "bad end". Basically, his addiction to chocolate gets the best of him and (due to his gluttony and weight) he falls into the chocolate river and nearly drowns (due to not knowing how to swim). He also gets sucked up by the pipes - but I change a bit things here.

In a twist of things, Charlie being a big kid is actually what saves him from getting shredded into fudge. His buoy of fat blocks him in the middle of the pipe, like Augustus, but this is how the Oompa-Loompas and Mr. Wonka are able to save Charlie. If he had been of a normal size, he would have been aspired by the machine and turned into candy.

 OOMPA-LOOMPAS

As mentionned above, the Oompa-Loompas are actually an alien species that came to Earth.

It is unknown exactly how things worked out - but a few Oompa-Loompa families arrived on Earth by mistake, probably after an accident, at the end of the 19th century. They met with Mr. Wonka, who was a young man in his 20s at the time, desperate to escape from his father's burderning inheritance. Wonka offered the Oompa-Loompa protection, assistance, a roof and food in exchange of them helping him create his candy factory. The Factory was built around the Oompa-Loompa broken flying saucer, and they used their technology to help Wonka become the first and most inventive candy maker in the world.

They stayed hidden for roughly fifty years, maybe a bit more. But when the 1950s/1960s came around, they actually had multiplied and couldn't stand being locked away. Something had to be done - and Wonka found the perfect idea. Turn the Oompa Loompas into his Factory workers. As a result they would be free and have something to fill their life - while they worked on their real project, aka creating another flying saucer to go back home.

Three important elements should be noted about the Oompa-Loompas:

1) I decided to base them around the Muppets and other "puppets" from television and children toys, on a suggestion of ArtMakerProductions.

2) Oompa-Loompas are a hierarchy species, naturally obeying to a specific caste system. Back in their home, there are different subtypes and subspecies of Oompa-Loompas, each with a different task and role in society. They vaguely re-adapted this caste system in the Factory, resulting in different "breeds" of Oompa-Loompa with different tasks.

3) The Oompa-Loompa needs candy to survive. Sugar and chocolate are essential elements to their health, and the basis of their diet. That's why they agreed to create a candy Factory for Wonka (and also why they are so gifted with making candies). They eat a lot of candies and sweets everyday - if they don't, they fall sick and may even die of starvation.

There are six different kinds of Oompa-Loompa (just like there are six kids), each playing a different role in the factory (and each based on a different "puppet/toy" influence:

# The Gardeners. They are based on the Fraggle Rocks and Kermit the Frog. They appear as small humanoid with pink or yellow skin, and wild green hair. They are a bit frog like, with no nose, no ears and a strangely shaped mouth (shaped like those of Fraggle Rocks). They are the ones that take care of the plants or the gardens (especially the Greenhouse filled with carnivorous plants). Their "kid correspondance" is Augustus Gloop. Some are also seen as being the "cleaners" of the Factory.

# The Beast-Tamers. These ones are based on the "furry" Muppets, Alf the Alien and other Cookie-Monster like puppets, those entirely covered in fur and looking more like beasts than man. They take care of all the animals in the factory - from the cows to the chocolate-laying Easter bunnies to the squirrels. They appear as almost ape or monke-like beings, covered in a fur usually purple or white, sometimes with a bit of their pink skin revealing. Their kid correspondance is Elvira Entwhistle.  Some of them also work as security guards for the Factory.

# The Cooks. They are the ones making the candies, the treats, the sweets, the cakes, everything. As long as it has a recipe and is edible, they'll do it. They are based on both some ArtMaker's illustrations and on the Swedish Chef from the Muppets. They appear as chubby humanoid, with more developped noses than the other Oompa-Loompas. They have very small eyes, usually hidden by their blue or orange hair (because they don't use much their sight, they rely mostly on touch, smell and taste). Their skin is purple, and their kid correspondance is Violet Beauregarde.

# The Technicians. They are the ones in charge of the machines, of computers and of technology as a whole in the Factory. They are again a mix of some illustrations done by ArtMakerProductions, and of the TrollZ dolls. Basically, they are short green-skinned humanoids with very long, very wild masses of hair (this was also a nod to Einstein and his insane hair). Always white, the hair. They have very big eyes always hidden by very big glasses. Their kid correspondance is Marvin Prune.

# The Doctors. They are the ones taking care of everything health-related - but here's the main trouble. They are Oompa-Loompa doctors, healing and treating the workers of the Factory. They are also the ones healing the injured guests, and making sure the candies are "healthy". The trouble is that Oompa-Loompas don't understand human biology very well, and Oompa biology is really different. This is why for exemple the guests have very "special" treatments - and why despite them claiming the candies to be "healthy", the Wonka treats are just as addictive, fattening, teeth-rotting and sickness inducing as other candies, if not even more. With usually mustard-colored or white skin, they are basically identical in shape to the Cook Loompas (chubby, small eyes) with the only differences being a smaller nose and them being entirely bald. (they are based on Dr. Bunsen Honeydew from the Muppets). Their kid correspondance is Mike Teavee.

# The Assistants. They are Wonka's assistants and secretaries, the administrative workers, the guides during the tour, etc... Their kid correspondance is Charlie Bucket, and they are based on the "human" shaped Muppets and puppets. They basically look like small humans with a bit of exaggerated traits, and blue skin with pink hair.

Two additional notes about the Oompa-Loompas:

# Due to being "aliens", I decided to change their "songs". As in, after each kid demise they still sing, but not in normal words - they sing in animal sounds. Augustus song is the sounds of pigs and cows. Marvin's is the song of cicadas. Violet's is the singing of exotic birds. Elvira's is the song of whales. Mike's the sound of frogs and toads. Charlie's "song" is the yelp of dog puppies.

# If you are wondering about it, the Oompa-Loompas actually don't have genders. They all look male from far away, or at least gender-neutral, and they can mate with anyone they want, no need for male or female. Their reproduction process is extremely strange - at Valentine's Day, if they want to reproduce they make a batch of baby-shaped chocolates, and their "mate" has to eat them - it has to eat enough so that his belly will become round as a pregnant woman's belly. When Easter come, they lay eggs (chocolate eggs) and the baby devours the egg to get out of it.

Oompa-Loompa normally reproduce inside their own sub-breed or caste. Mating with someone not of your group isn't a usual custom. It is possible however, and "mixed breed" babies can be born. For exemple, if a Gardener and a Technician mate, they can birth a Gardener-shaped Oompa with the colors of a Technician, or a Technician baby but with no nose or ears. Or, if a Cook and a Beast-Tamer mate, they can produce a chubby Beast-Tamer, or a very hairy Cook. However, when the child grows up, his body will adapt to whatever function it takes. For exemple if the very hairy Cook works as a Beast-Tamer, he will quickly lose his chub and see his nose shrink down as his hairiness becomes fur. Or the reverse, if the chubby Beast-Tamer works as a cook, he will see himself lose his fur as his nose will grow bigger.

 ENDING

For the brats:

Ever since he got swallowed by the carnivorous plant, Augustus Gloop seeks revenge. He now only eats vegetables and fruits. He has lot a lost of weight, and suffers from the troubles and sicknesses caused by lack of fish, meat, dairy and non-vegetable products, but he is a prominent fighter for the vegan movement.

Marvin Prune  was left paralyzed by the electrocution, and now really has to rely on electronics to survive, move, speak... But he thinks it is incredibly fancy and cool, so he doesn't mind.

Violet Beauregarde got her wish and became famous thanks to her weird condition - with her multicolored skin, she appeared on several showws about freaky bodies and strange medical conditions. A good thing came out of it though: now she fights against skin-color discriminations. "Equality for all colors", that's her new motto.

Elvira Entwhistle was left half-burned by the fire, with nasty scars. But she was lucky - the new trend of the month was "sympathy for people with burnt scars". She dropped all ideas of trials to sue Wonka and enjoyed her time of fame. But when the fad was gone, she realized bitterly she had officially abandonned all possibilities to attack Wonka.

Mike Teavee still lives sheltered. His life hasn't changed much - the only difference being that his room is now kept at a freezer temperature.

As for Wonka, Bucket and the Loompas, they managed to find together a solution to please everyone.

The Oompa-Loompas finally managed to finish their flying saucer. It wasn't big enough to take all the Oompa-Loompas, but a good part of them managed t return to their native planet.

Charlie Bucket is the heir of Mr. Wonka, he and his family now owning the Factory. Since there are less Oompa-Loompas, Charlie could "hide" them better and re-employ people from the town. He also let a few people of trust learn about the Oompa-Loompa existence, realizing that keeping such a secret alone is nearly impossible and too dangerous. A few Oompa-Loompas still work at the Factory, and the other human employees are under obligation to keep their existence a secret.

Where are the rest of the Loompas? Well, they are working with Charlie on a project of his: making the Wonka candies less unhealthy and help the town get out of its misery. The Oompa-Loompas opened some institutions, shops and other buildings in town, sometimes with the help of trustworthy workers. The Technicians and Beast-Keepers opened sport center and gym complexs. The Cooks opened healthy restaurants. The Gardeners opened small urban farms and organic shops. And the Doctors were sent to human medical and nutrition schools to learn exactly how human body and diet works.

Charlie himself, as well as his family, became healthier, especially since they could afford good food, healthy diet and more sports. Charlie however insisted for keeping a little spare tire around his waist. Partly because he can't get rid of his sweet tooth, but also partly as a reminder that being fat isn't always negative and can even save you if you are sucked up in a glass pipe from a chocolate river.

As for Mr. Wonka, he got his final wish. He was carried with the Oompa-Loompas of the flying saucer. He always wanted to see the Oompa-Loompas original planet before dying.

[paradox-aethernaut]

Break the Fourth Wall (pt. 2)

Here’s Part 2 -- if you’re looking for Part 1, it’s here! Characters: Y/N (as DA), Actor Mark, the Host, & surprise cameo. No shipping here, but maybe a bit of Actor/DA if you squint? Summary: You can’t remember any life except the one the Actor casts you in. The mysterious Host promises that only his powers can set you free, but does cooperating with him really lead to freedom? There’s no hope for escape… unless you can break the fourth wall.

A loud THUNK comes from behind you. Your whole body jerks, your head whipping around. You exhale… it’s Mark, finally, opening and closing the trunk of the car. He waves at you through the back window, and you wave back, with a sort of half smile.

He opens the driver’s seat door, and sits down, laughing. He’s holding a grocery bag on his lap. “Oh, that got you good, didn’t it! You should’ve seen your face!” His eyes sparkle when he looks at you, and you find yourself smiling at him, a feeling of relief starting to spread through your anxious body.

“Sorry, you startled me!” you chuckle. “But I was already kind of freaked out… the weirdest thing happened while you were gone…”

“Don’t worry, I made extra sure that we’ll have everything we need for this camping trip,” Mark cuts you off, appearing not to acknowledge what you’d said. He counts on his fingers. “Tent, sleeping bags, flashlight, walkie-talkies, every flavor of granola bar…” He reaches into the grocery bag, and pulls out granola bar after granola bar, chucking them carelessly into the back seat as he lists them. “Cookies and cream, peanut butter, lemon, blueberry muffin, birthday cake… What even is ‘birthday cake’ flavor, anyway?” He pauses to analyze the granola bar, makes a face, then throws it back with the others.

A bit bewildered, you find yourself nodding along, almost hypnotically. Right, the camping trip, that’s why you were at the store, to prepare for the camping trip. What were you going to say again? You got a bit lost in Mark’s list, and now all you can think about is, what does ‘birthday cake’ taste like, anyway? Aren’t birthday cakes whatever flavor the person whose birthday it is decides it should be? “Anyway!” Mark throws the grocery bag and the rest of its contents haphazardly behind him, and puts the car into Drive, the engine revving to life. “It’ll be so nice to get away from it all, won’t it? The trees, the fresh air, we’ll really be roughing it! Of course, there’s no one I’d rather be roughing it with except you~” He winks.

“You cheesy bastard.” You smile, chuckling and turning away, looking out the side window. You watch as the car backs out of its parking spot and leaves, watch the cars next to you start to blur a bit as you start to pick up speed.

You blink, and for a second, the darkness tinged red inside your eyelids lingers, blanking everything out even when your eyes open again. Even though it lasts only for a second, it grips you with a cold feeling of dread. Your hands feel numb. You blink again, and the darkness clears, instantly.

Out the window, you see only a thick forest of pine trees, laced with misty shadows; no cars or buildings anymore. You don’t remember how you got here. Did you fall asleep on the car ride here? You must have; you were pretty tired, after all. But you don’t remember falling asleep.

“We’re here!” Mark announces. He pushes the door open, excitedly. “Come on! We’d better hurry… we have to hike up to our campsite before the sun goes down. We don’t want to be stuck out in the scary woods at night, now do we?” He chuckles, low, then jumps out of the car and goes around to the trunk. His footsteps crunch in the dirt, loud in the silent woods. You start to follow him, but he meets you halfway, carrying two full backpacking packs, one in each hand. He holds one out to you. “Here, put this on! It shouldn’t be heavy… well, it shouldn’t be that heavy, anyway!”

You take the backpack, grunting as you realize he’s lying… it is very heavy. “What the hell… did you put… in this backpack, Mark?” you chuckle, struggling and contorting and straining to put the backpack on. You don’t question how Mark managed to fit both of these large backpacks in the trunk at the same time.

“I told you, weren’t you listening?” Mark says. He repeats his list, faster this time, his enunciation degrading the faster he tries to talk: “Tent, sleeping bags, flashlight, walkie-talkies, cooks-peabutter-lemon-blubbury-cake… rope, crowbar, tactical shovel…” “Wait, wait,” you chuckle, breathing heavily from the strain. “You added a few things, mister!”

“Pffft, nah... No way!” Mark insists, waving a dismissive hand. “Come on, it’s not that far of a hike from here, you’ll make it just fine.” He hoists his own pack onto his back with no effort at all, snapping the buckle around his chest. You narrow your eyes at him. “Show-off…” you mumble, shaking your head with a tight smile. Mark pulls a walkie-talkie from the pack, though you’re not quite sure which pocket he pulled it from, and turns it on with a sharp squeal. “Hello? Testing?” he tries. “Hey, take out your walkie-talkie. We’ll need to make sure they work, just in case we get… separated.” He says this in a low, conspiratorial tone, as if morbidly excited by the idea.

“Sure… uh, channel 1?” You raise one eyebrow, and take your own walkie-talkie out of its pouch on the side of your pack. You turn it on, and it crackles to life, bleeping and squealing. “Hello?” you try, and your voice repeats into Mark’s walkie-talkie, distorted and full of static. Mark gives you a thumbs-up and a smile.

“Cell phones don’t work up here, you see…” he explains, leaning in, his voice still low, excited. “All we’ll have are our wits…” He taps the side of his head with one finger. “… and our walkie-talkies.” He clicks the walkie-talkie on and off, making a beeping noise. “Promise me… you’ll never lose sight of me, not for one, single instant! All it takes is one instant… that’s when the bears’ll get you! Or worse… the Wraith of the Woods!”

“… the… what?” you try, but Mark immediately turns around, and starts to walk, quickly, up the narrow trail through the dark stand of trees. Startled, you have to jog to catch up to him, wincing as your heavy pack bounces up and down on your shoulders. “The what??” you try again, more insistently.

Mark doesn’t turn around to face you. He keeps walking with his face rigid forward, staring off into the middle distance.

“They say… that in the spaces where the shadows start and the light ends…” [continued in part 3]