#mal's all 'he asked for no pickles'

[mercymaker]

scREAMING CRYING YODELING

WHY IS HE SO TINY

[onlyonetifosi]

Behind the camera -> Prologue

"Maman, Papa, you promised to tell me something special today," Lorenzo said, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Pascale exchanged a loving glance with Hervé and then smiled at their eager son. "Well, Lorenzo, you are going to be a big brother," she announced, her voice brimming with joy.

Lorenzo's face lit up with delight. "Really? I'm going to have a little brother or sister?" he asked, hardly able to contain his excitement.

Pascale laughed gently and nodded. "Actually, you're going to have both! You're going to be a big brother of twins!"

"Des jumeaux?! Deux frères ou deux sœurs?" Lorenzo asked, his French flowing naturally as he processed the news. (Twins?! Two brothers or two sisters?)

Hervé grinned. "Un frère et une sœur" he replied. {One brother and one sister}

Lorenzo's eyes widened even more, realizing he was going to have a brother and a sister. "C'est incroyable!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around his parents' necks in a tight hug (This is incredible!)

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

Over the next few months, Pascale's pregnancy progressed beautifully, but with the joy of having twins came the challenges of carrying two babies at once. She experienced intense cravings, sometimes even at odd hours of the night.

"Maman, you want pickles and ice cream for breakfast?!" Lorenzo chuckled one morning as he found his mother raiding the fridge.

She grinned sheepishly. "It's the babies, they're making me crave all sorts of things," she explained, trying to balance a jar of pickles and a tub of ice cream in her hands.

As the due date approached, Pascale's anticipation mingled with nervousness. Her pregnancy had been more tiring than the first time she carried Lorenzo, and giving birth to twins presented its own set of challenges

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

The day had finally arrived - October 16th, a day that would forever change the lives of the Leclerc family. Pascale, the expectant mother, was lying in her hospital bed, surrounded by her husband Hervé and their eldest son Lorenzo. The anticipation in the air was palpable as they eagerly awaited the arrival of the newest additions to their family

Inside the delivery room, the medical team prepared for the unique challenge that lay ahead. Pascale's pregnancy had been a rollercoaster, and as the time approached, the doctors were on high alert. The twins were fraternal, but it had become evident during the course of the pregnancy that they were different in more than just their gender. Yn, the youngest, had been nestled lower in her mother's womb, making her delivery more complicated.

Meanwhile, Lorenzo was staying with Philippe Bianchi and his family, a friend of his dad. Jules, who was now eight years old, was Lorenzo’s best friend and Charles’ future godfather. The two boys eagerly waited for news of the twins' arrival.

"Do you think they'll be okay, Jules?" Lorenzo asked, his eyes filled with concern.

Jules patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Of course, they will! Your maman and papa are strong, and the doctors are taking good care of them. We'll get to meet the babies soon!"

As the clock struck noon, the contractions intensified, and Pascale's grip on Hervé's hand tightened. "Ça fait mal," she said, her face contorting with pain (It hurts)

Hervé, trying to be the supportive husband he always was, replied, "Tout va bien se passer, mon amour. Les médecins sont là pour nous aider." (Everything will be fine, my love. The doctors are here to help us.)

In the Bianchi house, Lorenzo was pacing back and forth, his nerves getting the better of him. He was excited about having siblings, but the thought of being responsible for two new lives made him feel a mix of emotions. He glanced at his father, who was trying his best to reassure him with a smile.

Back in the delivery room, Pascale was giving it her all. The medical staff encouraged her, "Vous faites du bon travail, Madame Leclerc. Bientôt, vos bébés seront là" (You're doing a great job, Mrs. Leclerc. Soon, your babies will be here)

After what felt like an eternity, the moment had arrived. The first cries of a baby filled the room. Charles had made his entrance into the world. Relief washed over Pascale, and tears welled up in Hervé's eyes as he saw his son for the first time.

The medical team continued to work efficiently, and soon, both babies were cleaned and swaddled in warm blankets. Hervé and Lorenzo were allowed into the room to meet the newest members of their family.

The moment Hervé and Pascale laid eyes on their newborn twins, tears of joy streamed down their cheeks. Pascale whispered softly in French, "Ils sont tellement beaux, nos bébés." (They are so beautiful, our babies.)

Hervé kissed her forehead and replied, "Oui, ils le sont, mon amour. (Yes, they are, my love.) Our little miracles."

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

The next day, with the newborn twins cradled in Pascale's arms, Lorenzo entered the hospital room, his excitement palpable. He approached the bed, looking down at his new siblings with awe.

"Hey, little ones," he said softly. "Je suis ton grand frère Lorenzo {I am your big brother Lorenzo} They're so tiny!" he exclaimed, carefully touching Yn's tiny hand and then Charles’

Hervé smiled proudly and placed an arm around Lorenzo's shoulders. "Yes, they are. Meet your baby brother, Charles, and your baby sister, Yn"

"Charles et Yn?" Lorenzo repeated their names with a hint of wonder in his voice

"Yes, Charles and Yn," Pascale said, her eyes shining with joy

"Maman, they're adorable!" Lorenzo said, beaming at his mother. "I promise to be the best big brother ever!"

Tears of joy welled up in Pascale's eyes as she pulled her son into a warm embrace. "You already are, mon chéri. I know you'll be an amazing big brother to them"

The Leclerc family was overjoyed with the new additions. News of the twins' arrival spread quickly, and soon the hospital room was filled with family members eager to meet the newest additions. Uncles, aunts, and cousins showered the twins with love and affection, while their grandparents couldn't stop beaming with pride.

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

Jules, the godfather, was ecstatic when he finally got to meet the twins. He bent down and kissed their foreheads gently, promising to protect them and be the best godfather he could be.

Jules Bianchi, Charles' godfather, was only eight years old, but he felt incredibly responsible and honored to be given such an important role. When he heard the news, he rushed to the hospital with a small gift in hand. "Bienvenue, les petits! Je suis votre parrain, Jules." (Welcome, little ones! I'm your godfather, Jules.)

The room filled with laughter and joy as everyone celebrated the arrival of the twins. Yn and Charles were already surrounded by an immense amount of love from their family and friends.

As the days turned into weeks, and the twins grew, their bond with Lorenzo strengthened. They had an unbreakable connection as the Leclerc siblings, and the world was eager to see the adventures that awaited them.

[cherrirui-official]

Friendlocke Violet Gijinkas (Part 4/7)

Hell yeah we're over halfway done! Isn't that crazy? I don't have too much to say here sooooooo onto the usual stuff

I plan on posting them in order by groups of three, so there's gonna be seven parts in total, all of which I'll be linking here when done vvv

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Five) (Part Six) (Part Seven)

!! These will contain personal headcanons I have for the cast, little fun facts, and also spoilers for Friendlocke Violet (for both the edited vids and the streams) !!

@saltydkart-reblogs

Designs under the cut!

VRISKA:

Vriska has an extra set of arms that they can retract and extract whenever they please. However, they usually keep those arms hidden.

The long needle she's holding is her trusty sword that she's used since her pirate days. She doesn't use it as much as she used too, but it's good to keep it on her for self defense in case of an emergency.

The marks on thier neck and shoulders aren't tattoos, they're birthmarks.

Good at sewing, as she often would have to fix her coat after getting into epic pirate sword fights. Sara and Vriska are sewing buddies!

It is unknown why they're unable to sleep, but while the rest of the team sleeps they often find themselves wandering around and doing whatever they want.

Artist's note: I based Vriska's design off the fact that I wanted to make her look like a bootleg version of the og Vriska. As in "Hey that's Vriska" but also "That's not VRISKA" if you get what I mean

MALL BINGO:

Trained herself to become resistant to poison (and by "trained" I mean she just ate a bunch of poison until her body became almost immune to it... please don't try this at home.)

Often goes scavenging for items when she's doesn't feel like robbing someone. If she's lucky enough she'll find some good items scattered around because "stupid trainers often leave good shit on the ground for some reason" (due to all the items you can pick up from the ground ingame lmao)

Mal lost her leg in one of her first heists, after she and another pawmi tried stealing from the wrong person at the worst possible time.

The gun she keeps with her wasn't originally hers, it belongs to someone else.

On a more positive note, Mal has plenty of stories and tall tales to share. She learned them from the eldest in her little pawmi group, as they would often tell her stories before going to sleep. Mal will often share those same stories with Peppy Jr and Mykyie Jr.

Can and will bite you. You won't be expecting it. Be warned.

GRUNPILO:

Due to his abundantly long hair, Grunpilo often lets Mal play around with it and style it however she wants.

It is unknown how or why he picked up on puppetry specifically, but it makes him happy so who are we to judge?

Speaking of which, he creates his own puppets by hand, from simple sock puppets to marionettes on strings. The two hand puppets shown are his favorite ones though.

Sometimes he'll be found speaking to them as if they're real.

Not good in social situations or confrontation, so Mal will sometimes have to speak for him. ("EXCUSE ME! He asked for no pickles!" /ref)

EXTREMELY light, very easy to pick up.

And that's all! Only three more batches left woo, hopefully I can finish them by the end of the year lol.

[ratsoh-writes]

Uh UHHHH

Main ten.

S/o is coming home with skelekid from the kindergarten and s/o looks pissed. When skeleton asks them what's wrong they just say. "Some.. kid bite our kid! Out of nowhere, just because!" And indeed, skelekid has a bite on their arm.

Sans: well that sucks. His kid seems fine so he’s not gonna go nuclear or anything, but he will talk with the teacher to make sure the biter got some sort of correction. And sans starts checking in each day with his kid to see if the other kid is leaving them alone. At least until he’s certain it’s over.

Papyrus: oh my! Not only did his kid get bit, but the teacher also told him about how his kid did it to defend another kid from a bully. They’re getting McDonald’s tonight! And he lets himself be reassured from the teacher that the bully was dealt with

Star: he tells his kid right in front of the teacher that the next time someone bites them, he wants them to sock the other kid as hard as they can in the nose. If they don’t have a nose, go for the mouth.

Honey: oh dear! His poor baby!! He fusses over his kids bite mark while the teacher does their best to placate him and explain what happened. Honey is quite on top of getting daily reports of how his kid is being treated now, and if the bully is leaving them alone

Red: oh this was a mutual biting. His kid may have a bite mark, but you should see the other kids arm. Red simply just asks who bit first. When it wasn’t his kid, he tells them good job lol

Edge: and what is this school gonna do about the biting bully?? Is this a respect offender? Did they move them out of the room!?! If this continues the school will be sure to hear from his lawyers!! Edge leaves the poor teachers quaking in their boots

Mal: he’s quite calm when everything is explained to him, and he thinks the teacher for informing him of everything. When he gets home though, he gives his kid blanket permission to bite the biter back if they ever even so much as tease them. They won’t get in trouble when they get home so long as they cause nothing permanent

Cash: when he and his kid get home, they scheme a bunch of petty pranks to get back at the biter together. The poor bully is gonna smell like rotten eggs for days after this

Oak: he writes it all down as the teacher talks, mostly so he can remember all the details to tell his SO when he gets home. He does comfort his kid with ice cream on the way

Willow: the reason his kid was bit… the other kid called their dad scary looking, and his kid said their face looked like if Freddy fazbear, a pickle and a pile of dirt had a baby. …… his kid may be getting too creative with their insults after he implemented the “no cursing” rule. They did inherit his sass, so willow should’ve seen this coming

[finitevoid]

these prompts are so fucking funny and I absolutely MUST know your answers to the following for any of the Core Four (or if another character speaks to you, go for it)....... 13, 16, 22, 24, 29, 34 and 38

@sparrowmoth THANK YOU SPARROW <33 THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN. i threw some twst in the mix for spice, but its mostly various combos of the rotten ot4. i, uh. wrote a bunch of little drabbles. bon apetit

13. Who would smoke weed in a confessionary?

"I mean, does she have a rule against it?" Ruggie asks, wiggling his fingers. His hair is mussed-- artfully, though Riddle is loathe to admit it-- and his clothes are rumpled. Likely from the manhandling Riddle gave him as he dragged him outside by the wrist a few minutes ago. Ruggie's chin is balanced on his palm, elbow leaning on his bent knees, looking for all purposes like the patron saint of not-giving-a-damn.

"Well--" Riddle puffs his chest out, before deflating in defeat. "No. Not that specifically. But--! You got thrown out of a church!"

Ruggie tips his face towards the sky, squinting in thought. His legs are splayed over the church steps, and the stained glass behind him is bathing him all kinds of colors. It's beautiful; it makes him understand the artists of yore, trying to capture their muse. Riddle hates it with a passion.

"Worth it."

"You are such a bad influence!" Riddle cries. "I mean-- drugs! Illicit substances! In a place of worship!"

"I'm s'possed to confess my crimes, right? What better way than by showin' him exactly what I've been doing?"

Riddle shoves at his shoulder. "You're the worst!"

"Yeah, but Queenie," he sways into Riddle's space, filling the air in front of Riddle's face with warmth, with the smell of him. "Which one of us is out here with me?"

Riddle smacks the back of his head. Ruggie just laughs.

16. Who would be best at drag?

Jay poses dramatically in the mirror, the eyeliner and glitter covering his eyes anything but tasteful. He buries a hand in his hair, fluffing the ends up, pursing his lips in a mockery of coyness.

Behind him, Mal cackles like a hyena. Evie is surveying her work with a critical eye, sweeping him over. Stepping closer to him, she grips him by the straps of his remarkably stupidly short dress. When he's standing still enough for her tastes, she sweeps a necklace from her pocket, glittering silver.

It's cold around his neck. He turns to survey himself again, eyeing the way it brings out the warm tones in his skin. "Oh, yeah," he says, cocking a hip. "I look hot!"

Mal buries her face in her pillow to muffle the hysterical screams of mirth she's giving out. But what does she know, anyway?

22. Who lets the intrusive thoughts win constantly?

Evie eyes herself critically in the pitifully small screen of her phone. She has the camera on, pointed at herself, squinting past pixels and smudges to get a good look at her appearance. She curses herself for forgetting her compact; she's in the trenches at this very fancy, very Auradon party without it.

Well, she needs to reapply her lipstick, that much is obvious. And she should probably excuse herself to the little girl's room to re-do her hair. It's starting to look a little... frizzy. And oh, God, is that a pimple--?!

Carlos shouts, with the kind of rage that levels happy little kingdoms like Auradon, "Oh my God, you did not just drop your fucking pickle into my drink!"

Mal laces her hands behind her head, smirking in self-satisfaction. "Well, you said you didn't want to eat it."

"I don't want to drink it either, you little shit--"

"I can always feed it to you like a baby bird?"

Carlos stands, grabs his water glass, and dumps it over Mal's head. She gasps, her perfectly curled and style hair plastered to her skin. Her eyes are flaring, but she's stifling laughter, even as she launches herself over the table with a shout of, "De Vil--!"

Evie sighs into her hands. Well, at least she's not worried about how she looks, anymore.

24. Who goes to a haunted place only to start yelling at the ghosts to try to challenge them?

"Come on out, little ghosties!" Mal shouts. Jay presses a palm over her mouth, trying and failing to quiet her. She merely grips his palm and yanks it away from her face. "The big, mean, evil faerie is here! Come and get me! I'm not scared of you! My mom's the mistress of all evil, bitches! You're nothing!"

"Big?" Jay asks, raising an eyebrow.

Mal whirls on him, jabbing a finger to his chest. "Say that again, and I'll turn you into a ghost."

He holds up his hands in surrender, but his grin gives up the game. "Girl, you like me way too much for that."

"Girl?"

"What, you want me to call you pet names in front of the ghosties? What would you prefer? Baby? Sweetheart?" He slowly wraps his arms around her middle, nosing against her cheek as she hisses putridly at him. "Honey-bunches? Schnookums?"

She guffaws, shoving his face away with her hand. "You're gonna wish you were a ghost by the time I'm done with you, asshole!" She squirms, but he holds steady. When a ghost-- an actor in a morphsuit, as far as he can tell-- jerks out at them, she jumps about a foot in the air with a two-toned, piercing shriek.

She calms, cheeks blazing pink as she stares at the actor in embarrassment. As if it's, like, cringe of her to fall for the whole game of a haunted house?

"Come on, miss evil-faeirie, let's not get thrown out of the haunted house, yeah?"

She snarls at him again, but holds his hand all the way to the end.

29. Who gets arrested the quickest?

Worth it, Evie mouths. She's visible through the window of the cop car, cheek spattered with a splash of dark blood. She looks utterly at home, sighing in lazy contentment. Then, with a start, she sits up, opening the door.

"Puppy? Take my bag, will you?" She says, handing him her blue, sequined purse. He takes it, nearly pitching forward from the sheer unexpected weight. He let's out a loud, annoyed groan, hefting it up. It clinks audibly.

"How many knives?"

"In there? Oh, honey, too many to count."

The cop comes around the corner, slamming the door shut. Evie laughs into her palm, eyes little half-moon circles of mirth. He says, "I don't want to see you again, Grimhilde."

Sickly sweet, Evie drawls, "Of course not, officer."

34. Who’s been accused of murder?

The lunch table goes deathly quiet. Jay meets Evie's eyes first, then Carlos', then Mal's. As one, they turn to face Chad Charming. He's holding his lunch tray defiantly, sticking his chin out with an arrogant swagger.

"Dude. You realize nobody can die on the Isle, right?"

Chad balks at them. "Really? Oh, thank God. So you haven't killed anyone! I was starting to get worried."

"What?" Evie says. "Worried?"

Mal says, "Do you really think a bunch of Villain Kid's wouldn't take advantage of the fact that corpses don't last?"

Chad's starting to go chalky white.

Evie balances her chin on her hand, sighing wistfully. "I miss being able to get kill the creepy men. It was cathartic, you know?"

"One time I threw Harry into the sea," Carlos adds, tapping away at his phone.

Chad's eyes are shuttered with open fear. Swallowing visibly, he manages, "But not you, Jay?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Why do you think Carlos threw Harry into the sea?"

38. Who accidentally ate 400mg worth of edibles?

"I'm fine," Carlos slurs, sinking into the couch. It's a considerable feat, considering that, before, he'd been sunk so far into it that you could barely see him. He's dressed in one of Jay's sweatshirts, hood pulled up over his head and drawstring tight. His cheeks are flushed and his pupils are blown wide, and he keeps blinking, slowly, and then startling up.

"Yeah, I'm gonna be honest, you really don't seem fine." Mal replies. "Why does it smell like weed? Is that why you're like this?"

"Did you know," Carlos says sharply, with the kind of abrupt cadence of someone deeply inconvenienced, "that cannabis can be cooked into baked goods?"

"Uh oh, you're being a smartass." She presses the back of her hand to his forehead, and he whines. "Very ominous. Never a good sign."

"Shut the fuck up," he mutters, yanking the nearest blanket over his head.

Mal leans over the back of the couch, pitching herself forward. The couch digs into her stomach, her feet hovering off the ground as her face lands in the mess of blankets and pillows on the couch. It's almost nestlike, honestly. She pulls herself up onto her elbows, legs dangling free.

"Did the puppy eat too many pot brownies?" She cooes, reaching out to tap condescendingly at where she thinks his cheek is. He snarls wordlessly. She snorts. "Stay here. I'll get your dumbass some water and food. It'll sober you up."

As she turns toward the kitchen, so weakly she can barely hear it, there's a soft hiss of, "Thanks."

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

Warnings- none

A/N- FIRST CONVERSATION RAHHHH also i love my girl so much shes such an icon. Anddd let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @sirisuorionblack @nadeleine123n

Ch-23 ~Estranged soul~

That night, they’d been invited to dine with Sturmhond in his quarters. The meal was served by the steward, a servant of impeccable manners, who was several years older than anyone else on the ship. No matter the presentation, the food was better than Anaya had in weeks, fresh bread, roasted haddock, pickled radishes, and a sweet iced wine, which she drank more than she'd anticipated.

Sturmhond mentioned the shipment of arms he was bringing back to Ravka. Then he seemed to perk up and they spent the rest of the meal talking about guns, grenades, and exciting ways to make things explode. A kind of conversation Anaya had no intention of joining. Thankfully, none of the crew members seemed to pay much attention to her, except for the captain, the boy seemed to keep his eye on everyone.

She decided to inspect her surroundings. Everything was gleaming wood and polished brass. The desk was littered with charts, the pieces of a dismembered sextant, and strange drawings of the hinged wing of a mechanical bird, just what was this boy planning to do? The table glittered with Kerch porcelain and crystal. The wines bore labels in a strange language. 

After what felt like an eternity, they all bid their farewells and retired for the day.

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

Anaya spent half of the night tossing and turning in the hammock, she didn't seem to have any hint of sleep despite the exhaustion. She noticed Alina and Tamar silently creeping out of the quarters, but she chose to ignore it. At least for a while. After a while, she could feel the ship rocking much violently than it had been. She quickly pulled her kefta on and went outside. 

A massive burst of light erupted from somewhere on the ship. Anaya rushed to see that it had been Alina. The girl had worn the sea whip's fetter. The power grew more violent, but the she didn't seem to stop. People began to shout and bellow, but it had no effect on her. 

"Alina" Mal called out, but she did not respond

 "Alina!" he suddenly wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her back with a hard grip. She finally released the light, revealing the night sky once again. 

She drew the last scraps of light together and wove them into a soft sheen that pulsed over the deck of the ship.

Sturmhond and the others were crouched by the railing, their mouths open in awe. Anaya was surprised to find herself having a similar reaction.

Mal still had the girl wrapped in his arms. 

Mal,” she said quietly. “Mal, I can’t breathe.”

Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked down at her. She finally dropped her hands, the light disappearing entirely. He then eased his grip on her. Tolya lit a lamp, and the others got to their feet. 

Sturmhond dusted off the gaudy folds of his teal coat. A girl that might have been a Fabrikator, looked sickly, she might've been the one to secure the amplifier.

“Well, Summoner,” said Sturmhond, a slight wobble to his voice, “you certainly know how to put on a show.”

Mal bracketed Alina's face with his hands. He seemed to kiss her wherever he could reach, then drew her tight against him once again.

“You’re all right?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she replied.

Without saying a word to anyone, Anaya went back to Tamar's quarters

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

Anaya shuffled in her hammock. She usually had trouble sleeping, but it seemed to be worse tonight. Se silently crept out of Tamar's quarters in just her shirt and pants of the same colour. She went near one of the railings and leaned, placing her arms on it. This part of the ship was almost empty apart from the few of the crew members who'd been on watch.

The cold salty air brushed on her skin as she closed her eyes. The sea had a different sense of calmness and peace that was nowhere else to be found. 

She was still baffled by the fact that she was alive, still. She herself couldn't believe what she'd done back at the whaler. Something she never knew she was capable of.  

Her trail of thoughts was disrupted when she sensed silent footsteps behind her. She quickly readied herself to form an icicle, but stopped herself remembering she couldn't possibly be attacked on the ship. She turned around to see Sturmhond making his way to her.

She turned to look at the sea once again as the boy approached her. He leaned against the railing alongside her, and finally spoke. "I've been meaning to talk to you"

She looked at him raising an eyebrow, "Why?"

"I wanted to thank you, for helping us back on the whaler. What you did was really unexpected" He smiled, his features gleaming in the moonlight

"I didn't even expect that myself"

The boy let out a small chuckle

There was a short pause before he spoke again, "Why did the Darkling made you his tracker?" He asked, "How did you know about the creature's whereabouts?"

"There's much you don't know about me" 

"I think we can change tha-"

"And I would very much prefer to keep it that way" she cut him off

"I respect that" he pursed his lips

After a long moment of silence, Anaya spoke "There's a lot I don't know about you either. I mean, how do I know that you won't take us to the fold and throw us offboard then feed us to the volcra whom you might be taming the whole time?" She shrugged

"Don't worry darling, I promise I won't do that. Besides, you're too beautiful to be fed off to Volcra" he winked at her, making her roll her eyes

"Do pirates not sleep at night?"

"A- Privateer" the boy threw his arms in exasperation. "And we do, but usually not when there are guests around"

"Alright" Anaya responded, a corner of her mouth slightly turning up. She left the deck, leaving the privateer all by himself

[greymouse42]

oh good you saw the character ask meme. let’s start off easy

Mal: 3, 7, 19, 29, 43 5050505050

and bonus Hemlock questions : 5, 35

"let's start off easy" [fear.jpg] (affectionate)

Delta Green (the "everything's horrible and eldritch" TTRPG) OC brainrot beneath the cut (with some bonus BG3 OC questions 💙)

Malachi Maladaptive Coping Mechanisms Steadman

3. Obscure headcanon

Boy Scout. Never got close to eagle scout, but it's related to why he wound up hiking a big chunk of the Appalachian Trail.

7. Age/height/weight headcanon

40yo in 2015

5ft 11in

I genuinely have no idea what's a reasonable weight for his stupid Captain America build. 170?? Idk?

19. Vices/bad habits

Vice: work...

Bad habit: accidentally staring

29. Eating habits

Does not eat at all when stressed; is often stressed. In the same vein: guilty of not considering food at all until he's actively hungry and then even though he's canonically good at cooking he'll just eat a sandwich in the cold light of the fridge at 9pm and call it good.

Does need to eat breakfast and have a coffee in the mornings or he'll be an asshole.

43. 3 favorite foods and 3 they despise

Favs:

He's a simple dude if you give him a good-enough steak he might cry

Pasta with vodka sauce

Pretzels

Despises:

Pickles, especially sweet pickles

Horseradish

Cornbread

50. A memory they’ve blocked out

[redacted :)]

Jokes aside there is... so much. And most of it is stuff I don't know that the Handler can just spring on me at any moment, which is fun/terrifying.

For this question though: I don't think he remembers dropping out of college.

Hemlock

5. Best personality trait

They're very brave. Like, when it matters, they are 'will stand up to a god without flinching' levels of brave.

35. Their idea of a perfect day

Squinting into the sun, walking through a big city; nobody here except their boyfriend knows their name.

[usmsgutterson]

The Great Chocolate Toffee Biscuit Debate- Genya Safin x fem! reader

This one was requested by a lovely anon, and anon, if you’re reading, thank you so much for sending this in! I’ve been writing for Genya what feels like a lot lately and to be frank I have loved every minute of it, writing fics for genya has been an absolute joy in my experience and this fic was no different--I had an absolute blast writing this one, so again, thank you!

Fic type- this is just. it is fluff incarnate

Warnings- this fic was started at around 2:30 in the morning and finished at 3:20. I’ve queued it and unless I’m out and about at the point in which is published, it has probably been proofread but if I did, it was just a quick readthrough because I didn’t have the time to do more, so excuse any spelling/grammatical errors

“It is simply the truth,” you rebutted as you and Alina walked the halls of the Spinning Wheel. “I am not wrong about this. I refuse to be. You cannot possibly enjoy a chocolate toffee biscuit at nine bells in the morning--there’s no way! The pastry you eat at nine bells is a post-breakfast cherry turnover. Chocolate toffee biscuits are for midday at best. All chocolate things aside from crepes and chocolate pancakes are not morning snacks nor are they morning desserts.” 

“I think that I’m right and I think that you hate it,” Alina said with a grin as the two of you moved. “One can absolutely enjoy a chocolate toffee biscuit or even a chocolate scone at nine bells in the morning, especially if ones prior breakfast was a plate of bloody pickled herring.” 

“Well, if I were to ask your beloved I’m sure he might agree with me, considering that there was the option of chocolate scones at breakfast and he chose a cherry turnover instead.”

“I’ll bet that Nikolai would agree that chocolate is an all day snack,” Alina rebutted, and you just laughed. 

You hadn’t noticed Genya, who’d been meaning to pay a visit to Baghra and had left her room to do so. She’d been watching you, registering that weird flip her heart did as she turned her head to watch you go. Her heart was positively on fire, thrumming at a racing pace, and she was putting in no effort to return it to normal. 

It was only when she registered the hint of a smile crossing her face that she turned, pressed her forehead against the cool of the stone wall behind her. She was falling in love with you, hard and fast, and she knew already that it was too late to stop it. 

“You and my sister would make quite a match,” Nikolai said. Genya jumped a bit and turned to face him, eyes wide with her surprise. 

“I never meant--”

“To look at her how Alina looks at Mal?” Nikolai asked. “Hell, how she looks at you when you’re so absorbed in your own thoughts that you don’t notice?”

Genya took a step back and said nothing. Nikolai smiled, handsome, charming, self assured. 

“You would be good for her,” he said. “Of course, agreeing with her stance on the Great Chocolate Toffee Biscuit Debate of Ravka’s Second Civil War is necessary, but that’s just because Tolya and I will vocally be on Alinas side in the matter as Nadia has been since the debate started two days ago. Y/N only has Tamar and maybe Zoya. She could use the help, and since David will agree with her stance, she needs your vote to break even and win.” 

Genya laughed. “Cherry scones are better anyway.” 

“False!” Nikolai shouted as she turned and began to walk away. 

“Right, and prettier than you by a mile, Lantsov!” 

“You wish!” 

“I don’t wish, I’m right and I know it,” Genya said, making sure she got the last word before rushing towards the stairs at the end of the corridor, going to find Baghra as she thought about finding the right moment to vocalize her opinion in the silliest debate she had ever heard of or witnessed. 

[swirlmup]

Well well welly well well....

Let's talk about the art I made for the finale and the last couple character designs revealed, shall we?

It was an all-hands-on-deck situation, and I was able to contribute to one of the final scenes. I hadn't gotten to draw Maria yet this volume, and so that's what I request for this final assignment.

After my last scene with Adam, I had foolishly believed I wouldn't have to draw the Atlas rifles again. Nope! xD I also kinda uh, just put whatever for the mermaid grimm, and wasn't super clear that they had a specific look, so i just sorta drew generally aquatic monsters, but it works out anyways and nobody called me out on it wwwww

The mech was also a bit of a pickle! Had to ask other sketchies for ref images, and I think the design of the mech was still in flux right up to the very last possible second. Still though, skyscraper-sized robots are always fun.

Maria was such a treat to draw, I love how she's simultaneously full of wisdom and also continuously very confused on how qrow and ruby are related.

We in this house don't believe in "cheating" in art, but we do believe in taking shortcuts. Plus it turned out bretty coo.

Got some help with this! perspective is a weak point for me, but felly sketchy Jayjaybase was able to procure a better ref image for me than what I was finding off of google, and it helped a lot for the overall look of the thing.

Serious Maria, giving her final words as a mentor to Qrow.

This was another fun shot to do. Yang waving with her stump is probably my favorite part lol.

Qrow's the kind of character where I always fret if I'll be able to draw him and his tricky hair right, but one way or another he always seems to turn out okay.

It was surprisingly tricky for me to find a good reference image for Qrow's running legs here, luckily posemaniacs came in to save the day.

This was a fun sequence to do, i always like imagining what a person looks like mid-transformation into whatever animal they turn into, the way their body and features must contort. I wonder if I'll get to do more stuff like that in the future?

Lowkey hilarious that Maria didn't have the slightest inkling that Qrow could turn into a bird until this very moment, and her reaction is just "neat!" Perfect note to end that scene on imo lmao

Now on to the last two character designs of the volume!

First up, worst girl, Cinder! There was quite a bit of debate on how to handle Cinder, especially since I personally actually quite liked her canon Atlas outfit, and didn't want to deviate too strongly from it. Overall though, it was decided that she should keep more of her red motif and a lot of the more classy elements from her previous designs. A soft gradient on her cloak helps tie in the colors from her feathers and keeps her legs from disappearing into the cloak. She feels a lot more like a mage here, with us wanting to lean more into her maiden status. As a rule I'm not fond of Cinder, but when you're doing character design, you kinda gotta find a way to sympathize and get in the character's head to find the roots of their personality to design from, and I like to think I was able to find an approachable middle ground with her.

Malachite's new outfit! For realsies this time and not just a cobbling together of her old outfit with her sister's!

Originally back when Malachite reappears and fights with Cinder, she was meant to appear in the casual!outfit shown in this sheet, her hair already cut to its new length. However, for various reasons, the artists for that scene ended up using her vol.5 cobbled design, and the casual!outfit was never used. A shame, I'm so fond of clothes that defy gravitate and look like they're about to fall off xD

But nonetheless! Malachite's Atlas outfit was largely inspired by a particularly eclectic gothic/punk lolita dress that was shared in the server from online, which got some tweaks and adjustments for dressing malachite in. We're dialing up the intensity of Mal's mental schisms here, two brains existing in one person and generally getting along, yet clashing even so. Gave her more simplified hand weapons, as well as increasing the size of her ankle blades to better match the size of her hand-blades. The main idea behind her was for her to be a blender in a cocktail dress lol. Very excited for her to do more stuff in the future of FRWBY!

And that concludes volume 6! Thank you all so much for watching and reading my art commentaries! Hope to see you again as Fixing RWBY continues! Fare well!

[jomiddlemarch]

what it is to be a thin crescent moon

Chapter 21

“…no matter what you say, Alina, I’m worried about you, but I guess I’ll just say what old Ana Kuya always did and hope her advice was better than her borscht ever was—remember where you’re from and you’ll never go too far astray. Never thought I’d need to put that in a letter to you, but then I never thought a lot of things…”

“Who do you think you are?” the beautiful dark-haired Squaller called Zoya said, her tone making it unclear whether she meant the question rhetorically. She made a slight gesture with her hand and there was a gust of air, sharp and cold and bitter, at Alina’s throat. “Who does she think she is?” Zoya asked, repeating herself for the small group that was listening, most avidly, in the sunny courtyard Alina had just a moment ago found pleasant and relaxing, letting her guard down as the conversation turned to discussion of all the quirks of the Little Palace, well beyond General Kirigan’s insistence on pickled herring or the mysteries of what Baghra brewed in her oppressively stuffy hovel.

“I’m a Grisha, just like you,” Alina said. She’d come early to the sparring rooms, full of a nervous energy that even casting sfera hadn’t helped and Togtuun had very politely and with an amused expressed kicked her out of the Library, suggesting other avenues of education be pursued. She’d trained alone for an hour and then Master Botkin had worked with her, laconic but surprisingly helpful for all that his remarks were few; he had a sense of the body’s urge to strike that she recognized without possessing more than a thimble-full.

“You’re nothing like me,” Zoya replied, looking at her much as Alina would have regarded a wriggling weevil in a wholemeal loaf. “And you’re nothing like the rest of the Grisha.”

“To be Grisha is to be exceptional,” Alina said.

“You can tell yourself that all you want,” Zoya said.

“I didn’t say that. I’m quoting Morta Mindaugus. Perhaps you haven’t read her work in the Library. It is taxing but there’s a lot to mull over, it’s an especially rich text if you really devote yourself to it,” Alina replied.

“You can hide in the Library all you like and quote whoever the kurva you think will impress everyone, but you’ll never really be one of us,” Zoya said.

“What’s this truly about, Zoya? Because if I’m real enough for General Kirigan to accept, then what else do you want?” Alina asked, seeing the very slight alteration in Zoya’s expression when she mentioned Aleksander. What happened to the women who shared his bed, Baghra’s words echoed in Alina’s mind and she remembered how Zoya had identified her on the skiff, how closely she had stood to Aleksander when he was only the Darkling and Alina was a fearful otkazat’sya, dirty and small and drab until Aleksander cut her open and her light filled his tent.

“I don’t want anything from you,” Zoya said. “I already took what I wanted, that First Army solider you were following around—I had him on his knees within five minutes—”

“You attacked Mal?”

“Oh no, what an innocent you are! He went down very willingly,” Zoya said, laughing, reveling in her conquest as if Alina were still breaking her heart over Mal. Alina before the Fold would have been hurt, more by Mal’s constant appetite for women than this particular assignation, but so much had happened since then, the only person she felt sorry for was her earlier self, her light all locked up, weak and scrawny and desperate. Zoya was intent on riling her up or humiliating her or both and Alina couldn’t see to what end; she turned, began to walk away and felt a gust of air knock into her back like a great, brutal fist.

“You weren’t dismissed,” Zoya said, which drew a shocked sound from the few people watching the exchange. The air pummeled Alina again and the breath within her lungs trembled. She forced herself to approach Zoya, raised her hand to strike as Master Botkin trained her but Zoya moved again, using her own hands instead of altering the air into weapons, hitting Alina in the ribs, the jaw, and then sending the wind to cudgel her until someone else cried out,

“Stop! She’s down, she’s hurt! Someone call a Healer—now!”

“No,” she said, working to say the word, the way she’d first worked to cast sfera when Aleksander instructed her. She didn’t want him to learn about this from anyone but her, or maybe Ivan, didn’t want him to hear how she’d collapsed, how Zoya had attacked her, how the other Grisha, Marie and Nadia, Misha and Vladimir, had all watched it happen, stepping in only when it wasn’t clear how badly Zoya had injured her. For all Baghra’s ominous warnings, Alina was sure the old woman hadn’t meant something this simple, Zoya’s utter inability to accept she’d been rendered irrelevant to Aleksander, when she had thought she would always be special to him; Alina wouldn’t make Zoya be her enemy, because it was all the other woman hoped for now and it was a burden she could keep from Aleksander. “No, I’m all right, I’ll be all right—”

“Starkov, I will take you back to your rooms,” Master Botkin said, appearing as if from the aether, that substance Ilya Morozova always ignored in his disquisitions on merzost. Alina managed to scrabble into a sitting position and was halfway to her knees when she felt Master Botkin’s hand at her elbow, raising her up and then bearing nearly all her weight in a way none would appreciate. “Nazyalensky, go to the training rooms and wait for my return.”

“Yes, Master Botkin,” Zoya said smartly, unchastened.

“And think of what you will say,” he said. He had a way of being so very still, his choice to speak was like a visitation from another world.

“What I’ll say?”

“To General Kirigan,” Master Botkin said. “You will want to choose your words with great care, I think. Very great care. He does not believe in exile.”

They walked together back to her suite in near-silence, Master Botkin continuing to support her without commenting on how little improvement there was in her strength. It occurred to her that she had no idea how old he was and how he’d come to the Little Palace, not because she hadn’t asked, but because no one seemed to know. When she sat down in the chair closest to the door of her room, an elegant little caned chair that seemed chiefly to be for the decorative receipt of shawls, pelisses, and various and sundry accessories, she thought to thank him but he spoke before she did.

“I will not talk to the General of what happened without your permission, Sun Summoner. But if you grant that, I will not evade his questions, nor will I…downplay the events as they occurred, not saving my own failure of oversight,” he said.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Alina replied. It still hurt to breathe and her light felt distant, as if it had gone to a place it was too great a strain to reach.

“But you are injured and I did not prevent it,” he said. “Whatever the General’s assessment, I have failed you on my own terms.”

“People get injured in the training sessions all the time,” she said. “Not even the Healers mind very much. It’s how we learn, at least partly—”

“This was not training. Miss Nazyalensky was not engaged in formal combat, she did not observe the rules of engagement, and her attacks on you were most personal in nature,” he said.

“Oh, that,” Alina said, waving her hand about. It felt like it was made of lead, some contraption of David’s that wasn’t working properly.

“I know what is it to be told you are not Grisha when you are,” he said. “To be cast out, cast aside from those already living in the shadows, simply because of my heritage. The General is a wise man, learned, with wide experience, but his own life has not taught him this lesson. Miss Nazyalensky is half-Suli, that makes her words, her actions, even less defensible.”

“Then she has her work cut out for her, doesn’t she? If she has to explain herself to General Kirigan,” Alina said. She was taken aback by Master Botkin’s directness, but it was a relief to hear him talk, to see eyes like her own reflect her face.

“She does,” he said. “I suspect she’ll manage it, but not without a cost to herself. A cost dearer than she would have anticipated.”

“The General won’t forgive her easily, you mean,” Alina said.

“He won’t be the only one. He wasn’t the only one who hoped to find a Sun Summoner,” Master Botkin said. “And the Grisha who are not Ravkan-born, the Fjerdans and the Zemeni and Kerch, the few Kaelish and the fewer Shu who find their way to the Little Palace, they also wanted you to come.”

“It wasn’t me they wanted, it was maybe the idea of me,” she said.

“You are better than the idea they had. You are real, with your temper and your laughter and your much-lauded loathing for herring,” he said. “Nazyalensky made a poor choice. She could have made you an ally, even a friend, and now—”

“And now, she’s worse than an enemy. She’s a supplicant and she’ll cause me no end of trouble, but I can’t give up on her,” Alina said. Master Botkin did something then that was even more unusual than all the other unusual things he’d already done—he smiled.

“No, you can’t. You won’t,” he said. “I’ll leave you now. Make them give you the pepper soup with their tonics.”

“Because it has healing properties for Squaller-inflict injuries?”

“No, because it’s the Head Cook’s specialty. And the General doesn’t like it,” Botkin said.

The pepper soup was delicious. Aleksander’s expression upon finding her ordered to her bed when it was time for their shatranj game and then hearing an expurgated explanation from Healer Balakina who had agreed to remain until he arrived, to spare Alina a second exposure to unrestrained Grisha power, was less so, but he schooled his features into a blandness acceptable to Liucija and kept his tone measured after the door closed behind her.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

Alina, having been Healed and pleasantly full of spicy pepper soup, patted a spot beside her where she lay in the wide bed.

“Come sit down, Sashenka,” she said.

“That’s not an answer,” he said but he walked over and settled himself down, almost as if he weren’t wearing his usual black kefta buttoned to his throat, every bit of him exquisitely turned out, but a loosely belted banyan in some dark color that wasn’t black, his feet bare. “You aren’t going to give me one? You know I can find out.”

“I know you can. I know you won’t, because you wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t bring it up if that’s what you meant to do,” Alina said. “I’m all right, let’s start there—I don’t want you getting upset for nothing and you can see there’s nothing to upset you—I’m resting and the Healers have said that’s all I need now.”

“Now,” he said. “I’m not feeling reassured, Alina.”

“There was an incident in the training rooms. A conversation that took an unexpected turn. If I spent more time with Master Botkin, I might have acquitted myself better,” she said. She wanted to tell him the truth, she wanted him to know she would, but she didn’t want him agonizing, for his own sake and for hers as well. “I got distracted, I was thinking of something Mal wrote in his last letter, how I should remember where I came from. I think I wasn’t alone in that.”

“Do you mean to speak to me in riddles?” Aleksander said, reaching over to take her hand in his, letting the force of his shadow sidle along her light, making her sigh with the peace of it. His lips curved in a small smile. “I’ll be frank, milaya, I’m terrible at solving them.”

“Zoya remembers how it used to be,” Alina said, bringing his hand closer, bringing him that much closer to her, near enough she could touch his bearded cheek if she wanted to.

“That—it was never serious, between us,” he said, earnest as a boy.

“I think she knows that,” Alina said. “It doesn’t mean that’s what she wanted—”

“I never made her a promise, she received no special favors,” he said.

“Didn’t she? Isn’t your company alone a special favor, General Kirigan, Lord of the Grisha?” Alina said. “Hardly any of the rest of them have ever seen you as anything else, maybe Ivan, Fedyor—”

“You’re saying Zoya feels herself a woman scorned, when she had no claim on me? That she sees you as a threat, a rival?” he replied.

“I think she isn’t a person used to coming in second, with anyone,” Alina said. “She thought, or, probably, she felt—”

“Even before you were here, Alina, that is not what it was between us. No matter what she thought or felt. You have no rival,” he said. “As the Sun Summoner, you cannot. As Alina, you do not. Will not. I’m not making a promise, I am stating the incontrovertible truth.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly.

“And now, will you tell me what happened?” he asked.

“I told you, it was a dispute,” she said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You said it was an incident and it does matter. You were hurt, if the Healers came,” he said.

“Nothing serious—”

“You expect me to take that on faith? Would you accept it if I said the same to you?” he pressed.

“It wasn’t serious and you know that. If it had been, I would’ve blinded everyone in the vicinity with my light, like I did on the skiff. You would’ve felt me call,” she said. “Zoya isn’t a Fjerdan assassin. And now you can trust at least that she doesn’t have some master plot against either of us—she couldn’t have put herself in a worse position to carry out anything secret.”

“I don’t like this, Alina,” he said, not specifying what exactly he didn’t care for—that she’d been attacked by another Grisha, again, that she wasn’t telling him everything, which she wasn’t and they both knew it, that neither of them could be sure what would keep her safe—to be closer to him or more distant.

“I know,” she said, closing her eyes for a moment and slumping back onto the pillows.

“I can go,” he said.

“Why would you think that would make me feel better?” she asked.

“I can stay,” he said and she could hear the happiness in his voice. “I’ll just—”

“Lie down with me,” she said. He had to remember the first time he’d said as much to her, what seemed like such a long time ago, in the cottage in the woods, a bleak, cold night ahead of them, two strangers who’d recognized something in each other. “For a little while, anyway.”

“Of course,” he said, letting go of her hand to unfasten his kefta and take off his boots before he settled himself beside her. “Sometime, it would be nice to do this without one of us being hurt or sick or cold.”

“It would,” she said, moving to lay her head against his chest, feeling his arm wrap around her. She felt him relax, his body and his power both easing with the contact, his breath even and soft. They were quiet for a while and then she spoke.

“Mal said to remember where I’m from. Zoya said I didn’t belong here.”

“You’ll never forget Keramzin, you don’t need any reminders,” Aleksander murmured, moving slightly so that he could brush his lips across the crown of her head. “And you belong here. I made this place for you, long before you were born, moya dusha.”

“But you didn’t know about me, the Sun Summoner was just a myth everyone says,” she replied, his hand stroking her hair.

“I hoped. The world is filled with impossible horrors. Why could it not bring forth an impossible good? As the years went by and I lived and lived, I thought, if I were patient, if I made a place for you to come to, one day, you would,” he replied. “And you did.”

The next morning, Alina woke up alone, as she had expected. Aleksander had kissed her before he left, the briefest touch of his lips to hers, the tickle of his beard against her skin, wordless in the moonlight; he drew the curtains closed as he walked out of the room. She slept for a long time, the suite full of sunlight and her own strength returned to her, finding Genya bustling about with one of the younger maid she sent off to run the bath. The heady fragrance of clove pinks drifted in and Alina smiled as she caught a whiff of the scented bath oil.

“You look well today,” Genya said, perched on the side of the bed, not far from where Aleksander had been.

“That’s good. I wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea about yesterday,” Alina said.

“I don’t think they will,” Genya replied. Her auburn hair lit by the sun, she glowed like a sankta’s gilded ikon.

“You say that but in a way that makes me think you’re not just talking about my appearance,” Alina said. “I admit, I don’t really look forward to dealing with Zoya—”

“You don’t have to,” Genya said, before Alina could say anything more. “She’s gone.”

“What?”

“The General,” Genya replied. “He sent her away. To rethink her priorities.”

“That’s what he said?”

“That’s what we’ve been told,” Genya said, shrugging very elegantly. It was clear there would be no overt challenge to the General’s edict, for a variety of reasons. Genya patted her on the knee, revealing a glimpse of a delicately faceted gold bracelet, each link chased with an obscure design, the workmanship too fine to be anything other than that of a master. “How about a soak in the tub and then breakfast?”

[intyaleglorfindeliel]

My brother and I tried to get a bot to write a Shakespearean comedy. We prompted it with randomly selected historical and fictional characters, a few celebrities, and five lines of pseudo-Shakespearean dialogue. Spoiler: we didn't get anything approaching coherent plot. The bot did, however, enjoy creating its own characters and something that vaguely resembled Shakespearean dialogue.

Some of the bot's OCs include:

Tamrahan Thomas, assistant to Dabney Coleman. Dabney Coleman does not appear and is never mentioned again.

Samoan Shaw

Dick Chattison

Hull

Camelot Camero, alias Nambioc

Thevillis Bellesworth

Steen Nu-Noihan

Monger

Louisa's Mother (and father and brothers... but no Louisa)

The Street Swayer

Steel Head, the Great Korean Fool

Student Anderson

Sheetzelle

Fitzjohn Fletcher

And here are some of my favorite lines, interactions, and stage directions from the generated text.

KING GEORGE III: And who might you be, sir, to make such a proposition to me?

ELON MUSK: I am Elon Musk, Sir. You know me. I'm going to build a new space race. I want to compete with the Russians. And by God I shall, Sir.

DRACO MALFOY: What happened to your face?

JUNGKOOK: Nothing. It's nothing.

DRACO MALFOY: Where did you leave it?

JUNGKOOK: My face is hidden away.

No, no, you won't see it.

(FITZJOHN FLETCHER enters stage left, wearing a white petticoat with a blue ribbon tie holding up a small child's dress as well as holding his fist down on his belly.)

DRACO MALFOY: We shall fight until one or both of us die.

JUNGKOOK: So be it.

THEVILLIS BELLESWORTH: Well, well, Anne Boleyn, how fares our cousin King George?

ELON MUSK: This was no poison, Sir. These were vegetables. They made me feel better. I felt better.

 TAMRAHAN THOMAS, an apprentice to Dabney Coleman:

What will yon hulk do with his sandwiches?

 HULL: Why, he shall eat 'em up like quicke pickle-pears.

FITZJOHN: Now, if we were to put it like this – let's face it, there isn't such a thing as absolute truth when it comes to the human condition; at least, not after the Renaissance. 

(The Subway sandwich shop is in a state of confusion. ANNE BOLEYN enters stage right. The sound of people shouting makes her uncomfortable.)

KING GEORGE III: Thou art still a base hag, and therefore I forgive thee.

TAWA (in bestial voice): Oh, Master Dapper-Toe! Why does't he lay there? Why isn't he brought to me? Who's that coming on foot? My Lord George!

(KING GEORGE III walks towards an old woman behind the counter.)

(DICK CHATTISON arrives dressed in fine clothes.)  

CHATTISON: I fear, Madam, I have not been able to procure you anything to drink. I am Sir Christopher Columbus. I wish to ask you about the weather. 

KING GEORGE III: I'll never believe you again. You would make an excellent wife.

(MONGER comes in from the kitchen. The audience gives him high fives.)

STEEL HEAD, THE GREAT KOREAN FOOL: (in Japanese) I was going to send out a summons.

I have not received one since my return from New York.

ANNE BOLEYN: It is true, sir, that I did think them to be strangers, but I mistook them for my brother John.

JUNGKOOK: She is indeed excellent. Her eyes are like two stars.

Do you know what I mean?

STEEL HEAD, THE GREAT KOREAN FOOL: To look at them gives me goose pimples.

STAGE DIRECTOR (to actor): Come forward, please.

(DRACO pats his chest.)

DRACO MALFOY: I came to take my revenge upon you.

My name is mal-foiy, not foi-man.

And I come armed with the sharpest weapon in all of Asia.

ANNE BOLEYN: Were I hanged, I'd not want even half a dozen fingers nor toes.

(THE STREET SWAYER runs over to where DRACO MALFOY is standing, holding a knife in his right hand.)

SAMOAN SHAW: Well, I wouldn't leave you half alive.

 HULL: Then you hadn't forgotten the Sandwich King.

STEVE ROGERS: Ah, what news has your Excellency?

How does your Excellency fare on the matter?

JUNGKOOK: My Excellency is well.

[lowkeyaesthvtic]

Evil Karma - Chapter 10

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Word Count: 1,922

Summary: Sofi’s feeling a bit angry, but that anger turns to fun when she realizes the Isle has a special visitor

Pairings: OC x platonic!Gil, mention of Ben x Mal, mention of Jay x Carlos

Rating: T 

Warnings: swear words, violence, murder, blood but not gory, choking kinda?

Tags: @descendantofthesparrow @hookedradge @newtshairdryer @curse-brekker @amityravenclawelf AND @batmanwearsabowtie bc they’ve been such an active/amazing follower and I love them with all my heart.

The Isle is usually quieter when night falls. The day had gone by incredibly quickly and it was quite busy to say the least. I looked down at my bronze timepiece. Good, I still had about 15 minutes to get back to the Chip Shoppe before Harry would overworry and send Gil and the crew to get me. It’s not something that I entirely believed he would live up to, especially considering that he’d have to ask Uma first. Still, there was that slim chance that she would permit it. I didn’t think I would have to tell them, but I’m not some kind of princess that needs to be looked after constantly. Was there a chance that my episode in Uma’s room had changed their opinion on that?

I don’t need protection anymore! I had to teach myself nearly everything I knew after realizing that my demonic excuse for a dad wasn’t going to teach me shit. I know a dagger so well that one swift flick of my wrist could slice even the toughest skin as easily as a letter opener would tear a piece of paper! I can fire an arrow from the highest point of the Isle and still hit my target square in the eye! I’ve got the venom of a cobra and the tongue of a rattlesnake luring its prey! The little girl who got scars and bruises and tossed around like a worm on a hook died when she slipped that bottle of thick, black Dreamshade poison into her father’s wine. I will do absolutely anything to prove that.

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips when I saw Gil at a pickled egg stand in the marketplace. The bone-thin, wrinkled lady running said stand was giving him quite some trouble. “Get this through your thick skull, kid! These eggs ain’t free!” The voice was nasally, overly crisp, and far too forward for the woman to be anybody other than - 

“Yzma, Uma said that I get these for free!” Gil continued slipping the thick yolks into the basket. This was exactly the opportunity I needed. I quickly rushed to Gil’s side and place my hand on his shoulder, leaning onto him.

“Hey Gil, is everything okay? I see you’re out for pickled eggs again.” He looks at me with the eyes of a confused puppy. Gil and I hadn’t spent a lot of time together outside of shifts at the Chip Shoppe, but he was someone I wanted to protect. His loyalty towards Harry and Uma is as indestructible as a diamond and as never ending as the open sea. He showed this ray of sunshine type of kindness but Harry and Uma know there’s a sliver of evil somewhere. Maybe I know it’s there too, but I’ve yet to see it. So, for now, I want to protect him.

“Uma said I get these eggs for free!” He looked over to Yzma, a soft yet angry expression forming on his face. “This empress won’t let me take them!” I looked to him, exaggerated shock and hurt in my eyes. Then, I turned my attention to the wrinkled witch in front of us.

“You can go and tell that pirate rat that her words don’t mean shit to me! You pay for the eggs or I throw you to the fish! You hear that, kid?” I wrap my fingers around the handle of my dagger, getting ready for a quick fight. Fire bubbled in my chest and I could feel my smile widening with a sense of madness. Since arriving on the Isle, I tried my best to keep a calm composure. But in cases like this, how else is one supposed to show that they’re not to be messed with?

“Oh, she’s not gonna like the sound of that. Come on, empress, you should know more than anybody how annoying it is when one doesn’t listen to the woman in charge..right?” Yzma gave me a scowl that was semi-threatening at the most.

“I’ve seen you riding around here. You think that just because you’re on the pirates’ good side that people will forget how much of an outsider you are? I’ll break you the news, girl. You can parade around with two buff pirates at your hip and a fancy dagger in your pocket...but it ain’t gonna bring those kids back from the dead.” Before she could let out another word, I remove my dagger from my left pocket and slash her left arm. A crimson trail starts leaking down the small, skinny limb as she goes to grab the arm in pain. I press the dagger against her throat, pushing up her head so I can see the fear and pain starting to taint her eyes.

With a maniacal laugh, I leaned in close and lower my voice. “Oh PLEASE say that again. I haven’t spilled some blood in quite a bit.” I look behind me to see Gil in a way that I hadn’t seen often. His eyes were slightly widened, possibly in shock of what I was about to do. There was a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Not a teasing kind of playful like Harry’s, but like the playful smile of a kid who had found their way into the cookie jar. “You’ll get your eggs, Gil, don’t worry. We just may have to throw a body in the ocean afterwards.”

With the fear in her eyes growing stronger and more blood spilling out of her bony arm, Yzma makes an attempt at a soft smile. “You know what? Maybe giving free eggs to a regular customer isn’t such a bad idea after all...at least somebody would be eating them, right?” Fear shook her voice until it was a quivering mess. The old skeleton of a woman tried everything she could to hide it. It was a valid attempt, I’ll give it that.

“You see, Yzma? Was that so hard?” 

“I did what you asked, girl. Now let go of me!”

I tsked in disappointment and began to tighten my grip on the dagger. I pushed the blade closer to her throat, hearing her breath hitch as she began to lose control. I wasn’t going to let anybody condescend me. Nobody will ever be allowed to make me feel like a street rat ever again! I will make sure of it. “I would...but you pissed me off, empress. Not only did you insult my Captain, but you disrespected my boys. Nobody does that and survives the night. So...Yzma..any last words?” She attempts to speak, her voice coming out much in a much raspier tone than usual. “Oh, that’s right. You can’t talk. Oh well.” With a quick swing of my arm, her skin is broken and blood begins to spray from her throat. Her weak body immediately falls to the ground as she attempts to save herself. But the attempt is futile, and after a minute or so of meaningless flailing, her body goes limp. I look up to Gil with an innocent smile and gently place my hand on his shoulder. “There you go, Gil. She won’t be bothering you anymore. Now come on, let’s go home. I’m sure Harry and Uma are expecting both of us.”

As Gil and I began walking, I feel a harsh bump against my right shoulder. Out of instinct, I pick up my dagger once again and pin it to the man’s throat. Almost immediately, I realize who he is. His hair was light and long enough to nearly cover his light brown eyes. He carried the aura of weakness, of pity and mercy. The thought of it made me sick. “Well, look who we have here. Another street runt that doesn’t know how to watch where they walk.” It’d be perfect to play dumb. Nobody on Auradon had seen my face before. The four VKs who attacked Neverland were gone by the time I made the portal to escape. None of them knew who I was, so it’d be perfect logic to pretend I didn’t know them. But I knew, and I knew well.

“Hey man, hey! H...hey, hey I know you!” I look over to Gil, a grin tugging at the corner of my lip. We had found the King, and if we could find a way to distract the entourage behind him, we could snatch him up. 

“Uh, no...don’t know you either, man.” Ben replied, choking out his words through the firm grip my dagger had on his skin. The three around him were nervous, but they did a lot better at keeping a calm composure. It was easy to tell that they used to have a life here.

“Uh, yeah you do. Come on man, really? Dude, I’ll give you a hint. My dad is quick...slick...and his neck...huhhh..is incredibly thick.” Gil points to his neck as if to give some kind of demonstration. I keep the dagger hilted but look over my shoulder to speak to him.

“Gil. Really?”

“Why doesn’t he know me? Everybody knows me…” Gil asks, a little twinge of both confusion and sadness in his tone. 

“Gil, of course he knows you. He’s lying to you to save his ass. You know him too..right?” Gil took a longer look at Ben, racking his brain to come up with a name, but there was nothing. “Gil. Come on, use your brain.”

“My dad said I don’t have one of those.”

I rolled my eyes and pointed to a nearby poster of Ben and Mal, which had been tagged with our crews’ own ‘we ride with the tide’ tagline. “Then at least use your eyes!” Gil pointed back in forth between the poster and Ben. The entourage surrounding Ben followed Gil’s gaze as he looked back and forth. 

Finally, his eyes widened in recognition and with a gasp, Gil spoke up. “Oh! You’re King Ben!” The four of them immediately tried to reject the claim, but it was far too late. “Yeah, no..you’re totally King Ben! And J-Jay, Carlos, Evie, hey guys!” The three of them stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. 

“King Ben, huh? I had a run in with your girlfriend earlier..or should I ex-girlfriend? A bit of trouble in paradise?”

“Mal and I aren’t broken up.”

“Why else would she come to the Isle, huh? She’s not welcome here anymore, and there is no way that Uma would give her back her old territory.” I lowered my dagger. King Ben would be an essential tool in my plan with Uma, just not yet. Not when he has an army around him ready to fight. I looked up at Ben and slowly brought my finger to his neck, wiping off the blood that my dagger painted onto him. “Well then, welcome to the Isle, your majesty. Enjoy your stay.” I mockingly bowed and extended an arm away from the stand. The blue haired girl, who I now knew as Evie, grabbed him by the back of his shoulders and lead him away. Jay and Carlos soon followed, their hands interlocked to as a way of affectionate protection. I looked over to Gil as they left, he soon smiled and jumped up and down in excitement.

“Oooh! Uma’s gonna love this!” He taps me on the shoulder and turns toward the direction of the Chip Shoppe. “Last one to the Chip Shoppe is a bucket of shrimp!” He shouts giddily, and I run alongside him back home.

[ratsoh-writes]

More angst asks babyy. Lets do main ten.

Lets say skellie had a small little tradition with his s/o. Like..lets say s/o reallly likes pickles or something, and skellie used to always give them his last pickle(doesnt have to be the exact food, but basically skellie shares something with s/o everytime they do that one thing)

Anyways, lets say s/o died somehow. How would skellie react to where he finds himself making a sandwhich and out of habbit goes to save the last pickle(and/or whatever activity and fjnds himself going to do the thing out of habbit) a little bit after s/o has passed?

Who just goes queit for a long moment, who bursts out in tears, who just quits doing whatever activity it was etc etc?

-edgy.🦩

Sans: sans SO always was determined to eat the first chip in the bag. He thought it was cute to hold it in the air and teasingly move it away when SO makes a grab for it. he freezes in place, still holding the first chip in mid air staring at the spot where his SO would’ve- no should’ve been. Sans slowly lowers his hand, drops the chips, and just puts everything away. He’s lost his appetite.

Papyrus: his SO always would take the tomatoes off his hamburgers because their siblings never wanted to eat them. They did it to papyrus once by accident, and it became an inside joke between the two. Papyrus had gone to his late SOs favorite burger shop with their grieving sibling. Out of reflex, he and sibling take the tomato slices out of the burger and try to pass it to each other. They both stare in each other’s eyes, start tearing up, then start laughing together. Every one is wondering what’s up with those two

Star: for some weird reason, his SOs favorite part of the cinnamon bun was the raisins. So Star would pick his off for them. Star numbly picks the raisins off the bun that honey gave him. As he stares down at the napkin, now full of the fruit, big tears well up and fall down on the table. Honey walks in on Star hiccuping quietly to himself as he eats the raisins one by one

Honey: he can’t even look at ham pineapple pizza without tearing up these days. His SO loved the pizza but hated the ham and would give him all the slices. Even the scent of it now makes him queasy. It feels wrong to taste it without them.

Red: on the miracle that red does survive loosing his SO, he’d be the one who’d eat his SOs favorite food anytime he passed a significant day without them. It’s like his personal way of remembering them

Edge: when he takes the cherry out of his milkshake, he blinks and remembers that the sweet little SO who always stole it from him isn’t here. Edge feels the tears pool in his eyes, growls, and chucks his milkshake in the trash.

Mal: his SO always ate the pickles in the jar but left the juice for mal. Every time he gets up for a late night snack, and sees the jar of dill pickles, still full, he looses his appetite and gives up walking away. After a few weeks of this, the pickles start disappearing. Cash and mal have late night snacks together now. Cash doesn’t mind eating them for his bro

Cash: he was never a good eater to begin with, so his SO would get pizza pretty often as it was one of the few foods cash always seemed to have an appetite for. But his poor SO never likes spice like he did. So they always got two pizzas, one hot for cash, and one mild for them. The first time cash orders with his SO gone, he accidentally gets mild for them. Mal comes home to two full pizza boxes stuffed in the trash can

Oak: his SO loved stealing a lick of frosting from his sweets. It became second nature for him to hold up the cupcake and let them have the first bite. Like always oak holds his cupcake up…. And waits. His hand starts to shake. Willow asks him if he’s alright. Oak says he’s fine and takes a reluctant bite

Willow: for some reason, his SO loved the end pieces of a loaf of bread. So willow always made the last sandwich for them, with those two slices. The first time he eats a sandwich with the end slices on his own, he nearly chokes. It’s hard chewing between the sobs

[razzle-dazzle-13]

The Glorious Story of the Birth of Your Lord and Savior’s Heir

Or Fabian Cortez’s Adventures in Labor and Delivery.

I wrote this for my friend #thecorteztwins inspired by life at work and her amazing portrayals of Fabian Cortez and Anne Marie Cortez on the board we RP on together. Guest starring one of my OCs, Kaylee who’s an X-Man with mentions of my Rogue who is Fabian’s best frienemy and Pyro, Kay’s Brotherhoodlum boyfriend.

It’s long so please keep reading under the cut! :)

***

Ah yes, finally, finally, after nine of the longest months of his life that had been filled with pickles, ice cream, and screaming, often altogether. Usually aimed at him. If he never saw another pickle dipped in rocky road which was some horrible plebeian concoction and Fabian really didn't think he DESERVED to have had it near him, much less thrown at him, in his PONYTAIL, just because he suggested that she should perhaps NOT be teaching his SON such bad habits, because pickles were full of salt and ice cream of fat and that wasn't good for him! A growing baby needed PROTEIN.

Anyway, horrible snacks aside it was about to be the second most important day of all time.

The day Fabian Cortez became a FATHER. Passing his superior genetics into the next generation.

God he hoped the baby took after him and not Anne Marie. That would be tragic. Ugh. That would be the sort of cruel trick the universe might play on him, because through [i]no fault of his own[/i] horrible things often happened to him! Mostly because women were awful. Take Rogue, who had not only rebuffed his advances, even back before she had that little power suppressor bracelet when he had been the only man WILLING to put up with her, but even now when he offered to show her how it was done!

Her loss. Maybe he would find some women more worthy of his attentions at the hospital. Nurses often were cute and in a field like labor and delivery would probably need some reassurances from a big strong man when it got difficult. Labor was in the name. It was a lot of work to get a baby out of a belly button.

Fabian flexed at himself in the mirror and shot himself a jaunty smile. Ah yes. It was going to be a good day.

"Fabian! Are you finished packing my bag?" His wife, the love of his life, carrier of his child screamed up the steps between contractions.

Didn't this woman KNOW he was getting ready? He had to look his best when he met his son!!!  And all those nurses! Some people just had to make everything about them!

"In a minute my amor!" he shouted back down the steps, gritting his teeth. Women were hysterical at the best of times, especially when confronted with him, so he should expect her to be just a little bit unmanageable today, but he wouldn't blame her like lesser specimen of men would. She was the mother of his child after all. Even if now she had those stretch marks and was gaining weight like no one's business, he would never abandon her! Besides, he wanted twelve children so they would have to start working on the next one, maybe tomorrow. He had people like Tiffany and Brittany on speed dial, the beginnings of the harem he DESERVED for his other needs.

Fabian flexed one last time and then picked up the duffle bag, strolling down the steps in a most manly manner.

There was a small shriek from the front door.

"My amor?"

"My water broke."

He looked in horror at the puddle on the floor. "Is... is that from one of the," he lowered his voice. "Cavities?"

She gave him a look , one that was filled with disbelief due to her good fortune of getting the attentions of LORD CORTEZ, but that someone else might have described as exasperated.

"Just come on."

And then she snagged his cape from the coat hook and wrapped it around herself to soak up the mysterious liquid as she waddled to the car and Fabian could only stare in horror, unable to even form words.

***

The hormones were quite clearly making her crazy. Fabian was huddled across the room while she threw everything in reach at him, from the TV remote to the birthing ball to her phone to medical supplies, screaming with every contraction. So far this was nothing like he had expected! No one had gotten him juice or water or even a blanket! They even seemed to think HE should be walking down the hall to get HER drinks and ice chips, like he was some kind of servant! The nurse was a MAN who was clearly flirting with the love of his life, patting her shoulder, pulling her gown up over her belly to "adjust the monitor" and doing "cervical checks" whatever a cervical was, sounded fake to Fabian.

He also refused to call the baby by his correct name, Lord Fabian Cortez the Second, insisting on listening to her when she said he would be named "Malcolm". As if Fabian would let his first born be named "Malcolm", that was a sock name.

"My amor, I think I should run downstairs just for a minute, I'm feeling a bit peaked, maybe some dinner," he said as she started to throw up, afraid she might throw that at him too. He blew her a kiss as he ran from the room. Whew! Maybe the baby would be born while he was gone and she would be back to her usual self, because this was quite disgusting.

***

The couch was probably infested with all sorts of disease, but Fabian managed to fall asleep on it anyway after a hearty dinner that he had had to leave the hospital for (Fabian Cortez, cafeteria food? I think NOT!) It was a little hard with all the moaning and groaning his wife was doing. At least she had stopped throwing things. Something about the pain being too bad to lift an arm and could he give her a back massage. He had asked if she would massage.. other things.. for him if he did and she had started screaming again.

Of course someone as magnanimous as Lord Cortez didn't respond to a woman's rantings.

He slept his way right through the epidural and from five centimeters to nine when the door opening woke him up. Why hello, who was this pretty little blonde piece walking in the door? Her scrubs sort of hid her body, but her face was quite pleasing.

For some reason she spoke to his wife instead of him though.

"Good Morning!" she chirped. "I'm Kaylee, I'm going to be your nurse today! So we're about to have a birthday party, yeah?"

"We better," his wife said through gritted teeth.

"Does the baby have a name?"

"Mal-"

"LORD FABIAN CORTEZ THE SECOND!" He popped up from the couch and shot the girl a winning, come hither smile. She was so love struck by him that she just stared at him for a second. "I'm the first, of course," he clarified. "Lord Fabian Cortez, at your service." Really she would be at HIS service soon enough.

"Umm and who do you have with you today?"

"My husband," she said with a death glare at him. He preened.

"Right. So. Yeah. I'm going to get everything set up for baby Mal-"

"Malcom."

"Yeah. Be right back." And she scurried out of the room. Poor girl. So taken by him that she couldn't  even stay in the same room!

Luckily for him, Fabian didn't hear the rest of Kaylee's conversation with Matt, the night nurse.

"Oh yeah the father's a piece of work, disappeared for hours and slept through all of active labor. One of those. Ten bucks says he passes out when the baby is born."

"Matt what  kind of sucker do you take me for, why would I bet against a certainty?" she said tossing her head and going to eat a doughnut to fortify herself. It was going to be one of those days.

***

Fabian went to get breakfast, but whipped his phone out and answered as soon as it rang. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Kaylee. Your wife's nurse."

Ah yes, she couldn't even go five minutes without seeing his face. Poor girl was smitten. Perhaps she wouldn't be busy tonight and he could show her a good time.

"Ah yes, Kaylee, of course what can I do for you?" he purred. "By the way I know this great restaurant, just a few blocks away. Perhaps you will allow me to treat you to it after the baby comes?"

"Umm no thanks. Well we're about to start pushing. So you should probably come back."

"TELL HIM IF HE DOESN'T GET HIS ASS UP HERE NOW I WILL KILL HIM!" shouted the love of his life in the background. God. She just couldn't stand that he was talking to another woman he thought to himself, even as he posed for the benefit of the ladies at the cafe.

"Pushing? Pushing what?"

There was silence for a minute. "The baby."

"Why are you pushing my son?" he asked, so horrified he stopped posing. "That's so rude! I demand to speak to your supervisor!"

"Do... do you understand how this works?" she asked.

"Yes, I talk to your supervisor and he stops this madness!" Fabian started running for the elevator to save his son.

Upstairs Kaylee hung up the phone and looked at her patient. "You guys didn't do a childbirth class, did you?"

"Oh we did," she said through gritted teeth. "He just wasn't paying attention. He has the attention span of a hyperactive three year old on a sugar high. Unless boobs are involved. He was all about the breastfeeding."

"I don't get paid enough for this," Kaylee muttered.

"Same."

***

Fabian burst into the room to save his son and was greeted with a horrific scene. First, of all there was blood on the bed coming from the baby cavity. Second, there was a table full of scissors and other sharp looking torture devices that could have come from one of Creed's videos in the room. Third, the love of his life had her legs up in the air and all her bits just exposed, while the cute, but psycho nurse counted to ten and made her hold her breath.

"My amor!" he cried rushing to her side. "What is this?!"

"Shut up and hold my leg."

He looked at her in horror. "I think I'll just wait up here, yes, where it's safe." He patted her hair gingerly and took a big step back. "Is my son here yet? Has this harlot tried to push him?" he glared at Kaylee who was moving the monitor around looking for the baby's heart rate, but in Fabian's mind was just proving the reason she wasn't falling down at his feet, she was one of those women who preferred the company of women, clearly since she was pulling the same tricks as that lesser specimen of male last night, trying to seduce his wife with her fake cervical!

"You apologize," his wife said through gritted teeth. "I have to push the baby out idiot."

He would forgive her for that, she was clearly delusional right now. Well women were the weaker sex, he wasn't surprised that all of this was upsetting her. He looked at Kaylee anyway, waiting for his apology, but then a new smell hit his nostrils and distracted him.

Was.. was that FECES?

He thought he might faint.

***

Fabian was getting bored with this. It had been two hours! Kaylee wasn't even wearing a short skirt and low cut shirt and when he had asked her for some refreshments she had just glared at him. Didn't these people know who he was? He was going to be complaining, especially since her so called supervisor was just another scrub wearing woman "charge nurse" who had run in when the monitor started going slowly, saying something about the baby's heart rate and helping turn his wife,then going out to call for the doctor and a vacuum. Women! Always cleaning! At least she knew tidying up was her place. She wasn't completely hideous and he would need someone handy in the harem, he resolved to get her number when she was done cleaning.

"His heart rate came back up so that's good, but he's not coming down in your pelvis as fast as we'd like,"  Kaylee was explaining to his wife when Fabian tuned back in. "I think he has a big head."

"Well we know where he gets that from," she replied, shooting Fabian another look. He missed it. He was scrolling on his phone looking for a replacement cape.

***

"I can see Malcolm's head every time you push,"  Kaylee said. "You're almost there! Dad do you want to see?"

"Why is his head down there?" Fabian asked as he leaned over despite his reservations, then gasped in HORROR. "BUT, BUT, DOESN'T HE COME OUT THE BELLY BUTTON? WHAT KIND OF ORGANIZATION ARE YOU PEOPLE RUNNING? I DEMAND A REAL MANAGER! A MAN!"

He was still exclaiming when the doctors and charge nurse ran in (without a vacuum, apparently she did not know how to clean after all since she was handing the doctor a suction cup) and shuffled him to the side. One of them practically knocked him down at one point, shouting about shoulders disaster or something, Fabian was too busy screaming at the sight of a head emerging like some kind of alien from one of his wife's cavities, he couldn't tell which, and then the nurse VAULTED onto the bed to try to kill his or seduce his wife, shoving her fists into her stomach.

Fabian would have protested if he could stop shrieking wordlessly (later he would say he was the one who heroically SAVED both his wife and son when the female nurses and doctors ran around cleaning the room while she bled out). Finally the entire baby came out, slimy and bloody and DISGUSTING and there was a loud thump from the other side of the bed, ignored by Kaylee as she jumped off the bed to start resuscitating Malcolm.

If only Fabian had been a little nicer she might have made sure when he passed out he landed on the couch, but it wasn't to be.

***

When Fabian came to everything was calm. Ah yes. He must have taken a nap. He had to see his son, he was sure that whole thing had just been a very bad nightmare.

His wife was sleeping peacefully and there was Anne Marie, the big idiot, crooning to a bundle wrapped in a cow patterned blanket. Hideous.

"Oh hi Fabian! The nurse said you'd wake up eventually. She's super nice isn't she? We're going to hang out sometime! She asked if we wanted to take you down to the emergency room, but I said no, you do this all the time you'd be fine." She beamed. "Isn't Malcolm so cute? I filled out his birth certificate for you and guess what? Kaylee sent it right away! She said no take backs once it's sent and Malcolm is such a great name!"

"NO!" He staggered off the floor and to the baby. "MY POOR BOY! LORD FABIAN CORTEZ THE SECOND! CURSED WITH THAT NAME?!"

Malcolm woke up. Took one look at Fabian. And started screaming.

"Me too," Anne Marie said.

"What?"

"Oh he just thinks you're too much. And you know you packed that whole bag full of your clothes right? She's really mad that you didn't bring any of her stuff. Or Mal's. I had to get him this cute blanket!"

Fabian howled with the indignity.

***

In the locker room Kaylee couldn't stop laughing as she and the rest of the nurses relived the day. All was well that ended well and baby and mom were both fine and the floor had an amazing story to tell on bad days. She flipped her phone and dialed a number.

"John you're not going to believe what happened today-" she said, then had to stop talking as one of the nurses reenacted Fabian fainting. It was going to take her a minute to stop laughing long enough to catch her breath and tell her boyfriend the rest of the story.

[hr]

OB nurses monitor the baby's heart rate all through labor, turning the mom is the first intervention if it's decelerating in a bad way or the baby isn't recovering on their own. We spend a lot of time chasing the baby with the ultrasound and the contractions with the TOCO.

Yes sometimes you really DO push for four hours as a first time mom after you labored for a couple days and some dads really do sleep through it all and wander off for hours for food when mom can't eat or can only have clear liquids.

Vacuum assisted deliveries with the Kiwi are a thing, but not the kind of vacuum Fabian is thinking of.

Shoulder dystocias (AKA Disasters) are an OB emergency where the baby's head is out, but his or her shoulders get stuck. Yes, I have half tackled family or students to get them out of the way to deal with it IRL. The first maneuver to try to get them loose includes mom's legs way back and suprapubic pressure to pop the shoulder free-which can mean jumping onto the bed if you're short and don't have a step up handy.

[hmhteen]

HMH Teen Teasers: GRIM LOVELIES by Megan Shepherd!

We are so excited for GRIM LOVELIES by New York Times bestselling author Megan Shepherd that we wanted to share a new excerpt with you! 

Meet Anouk, a girl enchanted into a human from an animal, and her best friend and fellow Beastie, Beau. What’s about to happen between them will change their lives—and the lives of all magical beings—forever. 

***

“Dance with me,” he said.

She gave him an impatient look, holding up the dripping dish gloves. “I’m a mess.”

“You always are.” He wrapped one of his hands around her gloved one. “Come on, I know that look. You’ll worry all night over this. You deserve a break.”

He held up their hands as though ready to dance. Soapy water ran down his arm, soaking his shirt cuff, but he didn’t seem to mind. The tempo of the violin music picked up; Viggo must have been in a good mood. Laughter came from the ballroom.

Anouk rested one hand on his shoulder. “Go on, then. Show me how.”

He grinned. “Step back. Like this. There. Now forward.”

She tried to follow his movements, leaving damp footprints on the kitchen tiles. He led her in a clumsy circle around the big oak table, counting, “One-two-three-four, one-two-three-four.” The floor was slick from the water dripping from her dish gloves. Soap bubbles popped in the sink.

“How did you learn how to dance?” she asked.

He spun her in a circle by the oven. “I don’t. Know how to dance, I mean. I’m making it up as I go along. Now forward. To your left. Step back.” He swept her around the kitchen, past the dirty dishes and the pantry filled with jams and pickled meats. “Twirl. Bow. Now step to the right.”

“Beau, you’re ridiculous!” She laughed.

He pulled her close, twirling her by the icebox. His shirt was wet to the elbows now. The both of them were a mess, and she felt that same giddiness that she had on the roof, tipsy just from being in his arms, and —

He stepped on her toes.

“Oh!” She grimaced as she pulled her hands from his and clutched at her foot.

“Merde. Sorry about that. Let’s see the damage.” He lifted her by the waist, set her down on the kitchen table, and knelt to inspect her foot. Her left big toe was red and bore the imprint of his shoe tread, but it wasn’t bleeding. He ran his thumb over it gently. “No permanent harm, I think.” He paused. “I’d hate for you to have lost another one.”

He took her right foot in his other hand and, holding both her feet, ran his thumbs gently over the scars where her little toes had been. It had been six months. Nearly healed.

“One, two, three, four,” he said quietly, counting the remaining toes on each foot.

He didn’t let go of her feet. His hair was disheveled from dancing and from the steam from the oven. She touched her own. It had fallen out of the ribbon.

“Anouk.” Beau’s hands tightened over her feet, kneading slightly. She tugged her feet out of his grasp, embarrassed by the scars and  the missing toes and the questions Beau always raised about them.

“Don’t start, Beau.”

She climbed off the table.

“Take these off,” he said suddenly, tugging at the dish gloves. “I want to hold your hand. Really dance.”

“But we don’t know how.” “It doesn’t matter.”

She pulled off the dish gloves — at least he’d dropped the subject of her toes. “And the apron,” he said, digging his fingers into the fab- ric at her waist. “I hate them, all these stupid things she makes you wear. Dressing you up like a doll.” His voice had grown low.

“Beau, are you all right?”

“Take it off,” he said, pulling at the ribbons behind her neck. “You aren’t some plaything. It isn’t okay, her ordering you around. Prince Rennar was right. You shouldn’t be sweeping her floors.”

“But it’s my job.”

“You get paid for a job. A job with no pay is called slavery.” He tugged at the apron.

“Beau, what’s gotten into you? The Mada is . . . she’s like our . . .” “She’s not our mother,” he said flatly.

The music from the ballroom stopped abruptly. For a moment the house was silent. No laughter, no clinking glasses, only the slowly bursting soap bubbles in the sink.

“Anouk!” Mada Vittora suddenly called. “More wine!”

Anouk gave Beau a hard look as she pushed his hands off her shoulders, then retied the bow of her apron. She smoothed her hands over it, pulled back her hair, and carried the wine decanter to the ballroom. They had cleared the table, throwing napkins on the floor and haphazardly stacking the dirty dishes, and now they leaned over a map of the city that was unrolled on the table. Prince Rennar held a dagger over the map, speaking in a low whisper as he made small, pre- cise cuts. Anouk kept her eyes averted, but she glimpsed silver powder on his lips. What magic were they doing now?

As she poured the wine, she tried not to make it obvious she was listening. Rennar was speaking the language of magic: the Selentium Vox, the Silent Tongue. Members of the Haute spent lifetimes mas- tering the complicated nuances of every word. Mada Vittora spoke it better than most. The townhouse library was filled with rare hand- written volumes of Selentium Vox grammar and vocabulary, books that Anouk borrowed and pored over at night so that she would be ready to help her mistress if the time ever came. And it had, once. There had been an evening over the summer when Mada Vittora had guzzled too many limoncello tonics and couldn’t remember the words to a love spell she’d meant to cast on some famous Pretty movie star. Anouk had snuck into the library and sorted through the volumes using the bits and pieces of Selentium Vox she’d taught herself until she’d found the right book. She left it out on the bistro table in the courtyard, open to the correct spell; Mada Vittora discovered it and, in her tipsy state, assumed she’d found the spell herself.

When Anouk went back to the kitchen, Beau was gone. Probably sulking in his room on the far side of the courtyard. Was it her fault he and Mada Vittora hadn’t ever gotten along? The Mada had given them life. Human life. Words to speak their thoughts, hands to do work, clothes to dress themselves, and all the other gifts that came with being human, like music and laughter and fairy tales, things Anouk clung to like precious jewels.

Before Mada Vittora — well, that was only darkness. It frightened Anouk to think about those days. She knew what she had been: ani- mal. She didn’t know what type — none of them knew — but what did it matter? Animal was animal. Mangy and hungry. Alone and vulnerable. She knew she’d been this, but she didn’t remember. All she had was a hazy feeling of dread, like trying to rush home before a winter storm strikes, and that’s how she’d given her past a name: Dark thing. Cold place. It made her first memory all the sweeter: Roses and thyme. Waking on the attic floor with all the rest of them look- ing down at her. Beau. Cricket. Hunter Black. Luc, the eldest, who looked twenty but had been human for only five years. He’d wrapped a blanket around her and stroked her hair and said, It will all be well, you’re safe now, it’s scary now but you’ ll learn. A puddle of blood had stained the floor beneath her. Viggo’s, though she hadn’t known it at the time.

And the Mada. She had been there too, of course, perfumed by the trick’s marjoram and wormwood and fox glove, the words of the whisper still on her lips. When her eyes had found Anouk’s, she had tilted her head and smiled.

This one’s sweet, isn’t she?

Anouk was lost in the memory, elbow-deep in cleaning the dishes, when she heard the click-click of heels on the kitchen floor. Mada Vittora came tottering in, drunk, her cheeks flushed unbecomingly.

Anouk pulled off her gloves. “Is dinner over? Shall I fetch the Royals’ coats?”

Mada Vittora waved vaguely. The top button of her blouse had come loose and was dangling. “Viggo’s seeing them out. He’s going to Castle Ides with them to handle the final paperwork.”

An image flashed in Anouk’s head of Prince Rennar and she felt a stab of regret that she wouldn’t see him again. Why did she care? Honestly, she should be relieved that he and the other Royals were gone. But there had been something about the way he had looked at her so keenly, as though he knew something that she didn’t.

“It was a good party, I hope?” Anouk asked.

Mada Vittora took a step and slipped on the soapy water. She cursed and kicked off her heels. Her bare toes were surprisingly pale, like Anouk’s. Except, of course, that she had all ten.

“Better than we dreamed.” Her eyes glistened with the alcohol. “Big things are going to happen. Just wait and see.”

“Oh . . . good.” Anouk had been referring to the food.

Mada Vittora saw the unraveling button and frowned. “Attash betit . . . betit . . . betit . . .” She couldn’t recall the last word of the repair trick.

Anouk feigned a cough. “Truk.”  

Mada Vittora’s watery eyes snapped to her. A momentary suspi- cion wavered in her look, but it was soon drowned out by a tipsy hic- cup, and she blinked and flicked at the little button. “Ah, I remember now. Attash betit truk.”

The button obediently stitched itself back to the blouse.

A flush of pride warmed Anouk’s cheeks. To her surprise, the witch suddenly pressed a kiss against Anouk’s forehead. “My sweet girl. My darling girl. Ma galuk spirn.” She wobbled away, leaving the heels.

My clever girl. That was what she’d said in the Silent Tongue. Did she know about Anouk’s late-night reading? Did she approve?

Anouk brushed her fingers against her forehead, the kiss still damp. Her heart was lighter as she finished washing the dishes, dried them, and put them away. She soaked the big roasting pan in the sink to scour first thing in the morning. She cleared the rest of the dishes from the empty ballroom and blew out the candles. She swept the floor and closed the curtains over the tall windows. The moon was high outside. It had to be close to midnight.

A thump sounded from upstairs.

She dropped the broom, which clattered to the floor, and picked it back up in a hurry.

She listened.

No footsteps. No voices calling for her to come clean up a broken vase or fallen books. But something about the silence ate at her.

“Mada?” she called up the stairs. “Is everything all right?” No answer.

“Viggo?”

But no, he had left with the Royals, and he would have taken Hunter Black with him. They wouldn’t be back until the morning. She went to the window and pushed aside the drapes. The black Rolls- Royce was parked out front, as was Hunter Black’s gunmetal-gray motorcycle. They must have gone to Castle Ides in the Royals’ car.

Now the silence gnashed at her with big, jagged teeth. With a start, she realized the clock above the drawing-room fireplace had stopped. She tapped its face. Nothing. She’d have to reset it.

Her eyes trailed up to the portrait of the Shadow Royals, pulled by some unavoidable force, and she shivered. Were they watching even now? She went to the salon to check the time on the grandfather clock so she could reset the mantel one, but it had stopped too. A chill started at the base of her spine. She checked the hall clock, and the one in the kitchen, and the one on the stairs landing.

Every clock in the house had stopped at exactly midnight.

The chill grew. What was this dark magic? Not like any trick or whisper she had ever seen. The coldness spread up her back as she made her way up the stairs. She realized distractedly that she still clutched the broom in one hand.

“Mada?”

Empty bedrooms, empty halls. She double-checked Viggo’s room and the guest room Hunter Black used while he was in town to make sure they’d really left. All empty. She clutched the broom like a weapon, ready to strike. It wasn’t until the sixth floor, Mada Vit- tora’s grand bedroom, that she heard the scramble of someone’s jagged breath.

“Hello?”

She brandished the broom handle but then let her arms fall in surprise. “Beau?”

He was crouched on the Persian rug at the foot of the bed. The closet door was open. The dressing table’s chair was overturned. Bright red wine had spilled and was soaking into the carpet, and Anouk tsked reflexively. The hardest stains to get out.

She set the broom aside uncertainly. “What are you doing in here? Where’s Mada Vittora?”

His hair was messy. His chest rose and fell quickly. He met her eyes with a gaze like a caught animal’s, a look she’d never seen on his face before, not even the time that Hunter Black had cornered him in the garage and threatened to cut out his tongue if he ever called Viggo a salaud again.

“Anouk. Oh God.”

The stain wasn’t red wine, she realized. Her mouth went very dry.

Blood.

But whose blood?

Then she saw the knife in Beau’s hand.

***

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[saxspielercaderface]

Adil 🥒

1. Drinks too much coffee.

2. Legends say he once humped an espresso machine.

3. Never deletes any of the selfies that Torvi sends him, even if they’re super blurry.

4. Would 100% lock Valto in a room with a mint-scented glade plugin and film the results.

5. Actually that’s not problematic at all, scratch that last one.

6. Has many pickle-themed clothing items and will wear them when asked/bribed with espresso.

7. Knowingly used mint vapor rub on himself with three Tyrkovanii in the room.

8. Lets Torvi gift his children with toy trains modified into spider-legged flamethrowers. 

9. Broke into the Verkorant HQ. Survived.

10. Once saw Mal dance and sing awkwardly to AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck.”

11. Introduced himself to Torvi by tasering her.