#on the topic of not having water. were supposed to get a water delivery tomorrow and im soo fuckin excited because i havent had an actual s

[vampirebiter]

i want mac and cheese but i dont want to have to get up and walk over to the house and make it. sigh... suffering....

[rextasywrites]

Spiders and Burgers (a Leon Kennedy fic with a hint at Aeon)

a work focused on Leon post RE4r 

Warnings: talk of mental health, spiders, for the non-shippers theres a hint of Aeon

The effects of Las Plagas had left its mark on Leon. While no traces of it were left in his body, he for sure felt…off. Off was the only way to describe the pit in his stomach, the blood he could feel pulsating under his skin. His veins scared him in the faint light, thinking something could burst out of it any second, the blue shine telling him not a bit of Las Plagas was left inside of him. It was all just in his head anymore - the worst place to be.

How Ashley could sleep soundly next to him was a mystery to Leon. The plane ride back to the US wasn’t as peaceful as he remembered the old ones he had taken part in, no way for him to sleep. But every so often, Ashley moved in the seat next to him, fear and sadness rushing over her face. Thank fuck, with her dad’s influence and money, she’d get a therapist in no time. Leon? Well, it sucks to be him.

His bed had never felt this cold. Any warmth and comfort he was able to secure in this blanket fort had been ripped away. Old trauma crawling up his spine, wrapping around his neck like a choking hand, forcing him to spit out the things he had swallowed down.

Luis’ death haunted Leon longer than he’d care to admit. On paper Luis was another ex-Umbrella scientist dead, a success for everyone who cared about Umbrella. In Leon’s mind, Luis was more than another casualty. For him, Luis was a companion, a friend, someone he was able to rely on despite having known him mere hours. But there was a lesson Leon learnt thanks to Luis. People can change for the better. And Krauser taught him that people can change for the worse too.

*

With all the sweat Leon had drenched his pillow and blanket with, he could have ended the drought in the Sahara. The empty bottles of alcohol piled up next to his bed, couldn’t be bothered to clean up. Why though? Who could guarantee he’d make it back home tomorrow? Who could guarantee he wouldn’t be another casualty in the next outbreak, written off and hidden in a file? At least Leon knew he wouldn’t have to think about a grieving family in his last moments.

The only friend Leon could count in in those hard times was the spider in one of the corners of his bedroom. It wasn’t big, it wasn’t dangerous, it was just there. Chilling, eating the occasional bug. It watched him drink his worries and nightmares away, it watched him at his lowest, watched the sticky pages of another porn mag being thrown away. And it was never judging. Yet Leon was afraid - if something got into the water again, who said his little spider friend wouldn’t turn into a monster, something similar to what he had heard of the Mansion incident. That day, Leon moved his only friend into the backyard, only to watch it get eaten by a hungry bird. The circle of life, he thought as he went back inside.

*

Fuck. Why was someone knocking on his door? Leon hadn’t ordered delivery for the night and there was not a single guest supposed to enter his halls of depression and PTSD. Something Leon always kept on his shoe rack - apart from his shoes - was a gun and a baseball bat. Leon was never a guy who’d take a knife to a gun fight. Why would he go to a knife fight? Leon was more of a take a gun to a fist fight type of guy. Some would call it cheating, he’d call it thinking ahead.

Slowly, he made his way to the front door, reaching for the gun. But lowered as soon as he heard a familiar voice. “Leon? Are you home?” Ashley? What was Ashley doing here? Leon opened the door, just a crack, just to peek outside. “Ashley? Why are you here?” “I have tried to call you so many times now but your phone is dead. I wanted to make sure you’re okay! Wanna go to Hot Topic with me?”

And somehow, one of the most dangerous men in the world was talked into going to Hot Topic.

*

“Okay but…my dad has offered to pay for a concert ticket. But I cannot decide which concert I should go to!”, Ashley said as she looked through the mass of t-shirts in front of her. “On one side there’s Usher…he is so cool! And looks so handsome too! But Marroon 5 is touring too…and then I have heard that Mindless Self Indulgence will go on tour soon! Oh my God, have you seen Lynz’s newest tattoos? She looks so good! But dad won’t let me get a tattoo while he is in office…do you think this shirt fits me?”, Ashley babbled along, holding up a shirt with a few Pokémon on it.

Leon, quite overwhelmed with the whole situation, just nodded. “I bet you’ll look amazing in it.” Ashley let out a happy giggle and headed straight for the changing rooms, leaving Leon to deal with himself. But he was okay with that. The looks and smiles he saw from the other girls in the shop went right past him. He looked perfectly emo in their eyes, fancying his looks and his vibes. But Leon was busy looking at Pokémon merch. Maybe he should buy a support Pikachu plush.

*

“And then Emily said I looked like a slut. Oh my God, she said that while half her ass was falling out of her hot pants!”, Ashley said before taking another sip from her coffee. The two had left the mall, Leon carrying ALL of Ashley’s bags, probably carrying more clothes than he could buy with a whole year’s salary. He needed a raise for this alone. “You don’t look like a slut ever, Ash.” “You think so? What outfit would suit me, Leon?” “Uhm…”

Ashley chuckled and offered Leon a bite off her chocolate cookie. “Do you even know what’s in at the moment? You seem very…out of the loop.” “Yeah. Don’t really keep up with the trends.”, he said as he broke off a piece of the cookie, amazed by its gooeyness. “My friends and I could give you a makeover. Dye your hair. Pluck your eyebrows. What do you think?” “Over my cold body.” “Aw, cannot wait to do it then?” “What?” “Well, you always have a cold body cause you are so cool!” “And I thought my remarks were eye-roll worthy.”

*

Ashley had bought Leon dinner to round up things. The only thing he refused to do was to let Ashley into his flat. There wasn’t a chance in the world that he’d let her inside his cave. In that very moment he also realized how badly it smelt there. They hugged and said their goodbyes for the night, Leon heading inside with his bag from the nearest fast food place, looking forward to a burger and curly fries after helping Ashley with her boy-drama and girl-drama and everything-else-drama. Oh, being a girl in college must be so much fun, Leon thought as he dropped on his couch, munching on the first fries. And for whatever reason he suddenly got the urge to clean up.

*

“You were right! Getting him out of the flat was the best thing I could have done!”

“See? Sometimes all you gotta do is listen to me, Ashley. I know Leon. And I know how he’s after a crazy mission.”

“I have it all noted down. We agreed to go see a movie on the weekend. Should we watch Harry Potter? The Incredibles? Mean Girls?”

“I think Mean Girls is right up his alley. Okay, gotta go now Ashley. Talk to you soon!”

“Okay! See you around Ada!”

[cozykhaos]

A New Sun Part 11

My internal alarm screamed me awake 6 am sharp, I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing peaceful thoughts into my head and willed myself back to sleep. It lasted just a few moments before Ash pressed his cold, wet nose to my cheek, making me bolt upright. I scowled down at the pup who was mid-stretch. Wiping the cold snot from my face I started my morning routine. Feed Asher, start coffee, let Ash out, stare at clothing.

That last part posing a problem today. Usually I’d just put on my work clothes, but today I was going back to Zuzu and clothes that were stained in hues of browns and greens from the farm wouldn’t fly.

I ended up having to go through unopened boxes to find something clean, a pair of black high wasted shorts, a loose fitting red tank top and black sneakers. I checked the time, the clock blinked 6:30. I frowned. I didn’t have to meet the others until nine. I looked around my little home frowning. There wasn’t a whole lot to do. I padded into the bathroom, I had unpacked all my toiletries a few weeks ago. I stared down at the unused jars of lotions, the untouched eye shadow palettes and make up brushes. It was hard to believe that just a month ago I was using this stuff every day.An idea hit me as I looked at the packs of unused face mask, grabbing one and stuffing my clothes into a bag and grabbing a to go cup of coffee I headed out the front door with Asher.

A short walk later I was at the hot springs, I quickly changed into my bathing suit and shoved my stuff inside a locker. Ash had found a spot under a bench, his eyes already heavy with sleep. I submerged myself in the steaming water. I sighed with relief as my muscles began to relax, my jaw unclenching, brows unfurrowing, shoulders dropping away from my ears. My eyes grew heavy from the warmth and humidity and I let out a long yawn. I reached for my coffee and took a long sip. I would need to start making this part of my routine, I needed to remember to care for my body especially after everything I’ve been putting it through.

After another long sip of coffee I smeared the face mask on. It was supposed to help remove built up dirt and help brighten the skin. Yoba knows I needed that. Everything I owned seemed to have a fine layer of dirt built up on it. I took the time cleaning every inch of myself, feeling layers of grime fall away. I had showered every day since coming to the Valley, I had to or my own stench would suffocate me in my sleep. But there was something magical about these waters, I soon felt like a brand new person.

With great hesitation I finally removed myself from the pool to go and get ready. First I peeled the face mask off which had melded to my face like concrete. I stared in disgust at the horrors it had pulled from my pores and tossed it in the nearest trash. Asher poked his head inside the trash can and I shooed him away. I changed and did minimal with my make up, there was no point in lathering it on when tomorrow they would go untouched once again. I checked the time, it was already 8:30. I hurriedly packed all my stuff up and headed back to the farm. Dropping my bag off at the house then taking Asher to Lewis’s. I bumped into Sam as I was starting back north.

“Look at you!’ he whistled and lowered his sun glasses. “All clean and stuff.”

“It took me a hot minute to find these,” I said with a chuckle. “I woke up at my usual time, so I thought I’d gussy myself up for you lot.”

“For us or for Sebastian?” Sam quirked an eyebrow up.

I ignored his comment and busied myself with trying to pull my mane of curls into a loose bun.

Abigail and Sebastian were already waiting for us at the bus stop, Sebastian’s long legs stretched out in front of him clad in faded black jeans with rips in the knees, cigarette hanging from his lips. Abigail had a paper cup in her slender fingers and she took two long gulps from it. Her purple hair hung over her shoulder in a braid. “Morning guys!” she beamed up at from her seat on the bench. Sam plopped down next to her, throwing an arm around her shoulders. That left the only seat open next to Sebastian, I stayed standing.

It wasn’t much longer before the train pulled into the station and we were off. It was only an hour ride into the city and I was back into the belly of the beast.

“What should we do first?” Abbie asked as we stepped out of the train station and into the noise of the city. I was silent as my senses adjusted to the sights and noises that raged over me. I had never noticed the thick layer of smog that hung over the city and tumbled into the streets, the sunlight still managed to be harsh somehow. The light turned green and traffic began to speed by, my heartbeat quickened and I took a step back, backing up into Sebastian. His eyebrows knitted together and he looked down at me. “You okay?” he asked.

Abbie turned and looked at us, Sam was already staring a frown on his face. I nodded and gulped down a bit of air. “Fine, just sensory over load, I guess,” I let out a nervous laugh.

“Well, is there anything you would like to do first?” Sam asked.

“We could go by the Joja building and flick it off.”

Behind me Sebastian snorted.

“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea,” Sam beamed.

“I’m down, then can we go by the mall?” Abbie asked.

“Yeah! I want to go by that new indoor skate park that they just built there!” Sam jumped in place.

“Bash?” I looked at him, he hadn’t spoken much this entire time. He shrugged. “I’m just along for the ride.”

“Don’t let him fool you Kit, he’s having fun,” Abbie smiled.

“A blast,” Sebastian smirked.

“So, Joja?” Sam asked.

“This way,” I pointed and took point. Nothing had changed, the streets had all remained the same, life in the city had continued in my absence.

“So why is this on your to-do list?” Sam questioned.

“I forgot to do it when I quit,” I said matter-of-factually.

“You used to work for Joja?” Abbie had made her way next to me.

I nodded. “I was a manager for the warranty department. I actually lived in an apartment just a few blocks from here.” I paused, we were on the opposite side of the road from Joja building. With the tiny windowed slots in the gray concrete exterior, it looked just like a prison.

“Yeesh,” Sam shivered next to me. I patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry it is much worse inside.”

“Why’d you leave?” Sebastian asked.

I cocked my head and scrunched my mouth up, I raised up my middle finger to the building then kept walking down the street. I wasn’t ready to get into that yet.

Don’t people work anymore? I thought to myself as we entered the packed mall. It was a Thursday morning and seemed like every soul in Zuzu had taken a detour to the shops first.

“Where should we go first?” Abbie wiggled next to me.

“Skate park.”

“Electronics.”

Both boys spoke at the same time.

“There is this awesome cafe in here that sells the best cinnamon rolls, I’m just saying,” I pipped up after.

“Ohh, that sounds yummy!” Abbie beamed.

“Do they have coffee?” Sebastian asked.

“Yes, but at this point I think you should hook yourself up to an IV, just have coffee pumped into your blood veins,” I said.

“Is that a thing?” Sebastian questioned, his eye brows raising.

“If it is, I don’t think it is recommended,” I shrugged.

“I’d invest in that,” Sebastian sighed.

“We could find you one of those hats!” Sam said pointing to his head then pretended to grab two invisible cups on the side.

Abbie made a face. “Like the beer guzzler hat?”

“That!” Sam flapped his arms. “But instead of beer, we put coffee mugs in it!”

Sebastian stroked the stubble on his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “I could be swayed into considering it.”

Finding the little hole in the wall cafe, we placed orders. I was declared to official Food Guide for the rest of the day by Sam. I accepted it with a sweeping bow and asked how everyone felt about Mexican food.

“This is the part I miss about the city,” I started. “I fucking love food. Don’t get me wrong, Gus is amazing, but damn I miss having so much cuisine at my finger tips.” I sighed and stuffed another bite of warm gooey cinnamon roll into my mouth.

“I’m going to miss these,” Sam sniffled and hugged his box to his chest.

“On Saturday morning and I was feeling really lazy, I’d just have Post Mates deliver them to my apartment,” I smiled at the memory. Wrapped in my favorite blanket, coffee brewing, a controller in my hand.

“Post Mates, what’s that?” Abbie asked.

“What?” I snapped out of my day dream.

“Post Mates, what is it?” Abbie repeated.

I blinked at her slowly then looked at both of the boys to see if it was a joke. Both of their faces remained in a blank stare. Holy shit. There is no Post Mates in the Valley. It made since, seeing as we were almost to the middle of no where. The hotel only had a few rooms and Gus lived in one of them!

“Post Mates is a delivery service,” I shrugged. “You place an order on the app and your Post Mate goes and gets it and brings it to you.”

The three exchanged looks, Sebastian dug his phone out of his pocket.

“You’re joking?” Sam asked.

I shook my head and took a drink of coffee.

Sebastian held up his phone, showing his friends the app.

“What the actual fuck?” Abbie snatched his phone and began scrolling. With a scowl and a huff Sebastian leaned back in his chair.

“I’m jealous and a bit confused,” Abbie admitted after several moments of silence.

“I’m just jealous!” Sam threw his arms up.

“Why wouldn’t you just go and get your own food?” Abbie asked.

“Lazy,” I shrugged then added. “Drunk.”

“That’s so awesome!” Sam’s forehead made contact with the table. Sebastian snatched his phone out of Abbie’s hand, she stuck her tongue out at him.

We finished our treats then continued about our day. We unleashed Sam upon the skate park. Stopped at a Hot Topic for Abbie, where she found purple finger less gloves that matched her hair.

The electronic shop took up both floors of the mall and we lost Sebastian for over an hour. We found him leaning against a table, talking to an employee, a short adorable girl with a pink pixie cut. I felt something in my chest squeeze and I ducked down an aisle, separating myself from the group.

I had spent so much of my life trying to escape this overwhelming city and when I’m finally able to, I come right back. Like a clingy girlfriend.

It’s just the day Kit.

What about the farm? Summer is just a few days away, there is still so much to do.

It will all be there tomorrow.

When did these shelves get so close together?

When did it become so loud in here?

Who turned the air off?

Sweat beaded on my forehead, I was gasping for air.

I started moving. I had traveled these walk ways a hundred times before and my feet carried me to the nearest exit and outside. I kept walking until I found an alcove and plopped myself down onto the ground. A car sped past, the engine roaring, another car this time speakers that were too loud. A slam of a door. People walked, unaware of my state, laughing, talking.

Breath.

It wasn’t enough and my hands started to shake, my fingers tingling.

Breath.

The numbness spread up my arms and into my lips.

Breath.

Sneakers pounding on pavement quickly approached me.

“Kit!” Abbie’s voice broke through the madness inside. Sam practically threw himself on the ground next to me, his arms wrapping around my torso. For the first time I noticed he smelled of sunshine and sand. Just like the beach, just like the Valley.

Sebastian knelt in front of me, his dark coffee eyes meeting my clover ones and rooting me back to the ground. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a little sensory over load,” I sniffed, rubbing at my damp cheeks. When had I started crying? A frown tugged at his lips, Sam pulled me closer to him, crushing me to his side.

“Sam, I think you are killing her,” Abbie said.

“With my love!” Sam patted my head, it was more aggressive then comforting. Sebastian rolled his eyes and stood, reaching out his hand to me.

“Oh thanks bro,” Sam reached for it. Sebastian popped Sam’s hand away, I gave him my hand, but there was a long awkward moment where I was just holding his hand because Sam was still keeping me anchored to the ground.

“Dude, let go!” Abbie kicked Sam’s leg.

“Fine!” Sam let go and stood. Sebastian finally pulled me to my feet, he pulled me into a quick embrace before letting me go and giving me a once over.

Thunk-thunk.

Hush you.

I cleared my throat “Sorry for the scare, we may now all go back to whatever it was that we were doing.”

“I wasn’t done shopping,” Sebastian shoved his thumb back towards the electronics store.

“I don’t need anything from there. Want to go to the book store with me Kit?” Abbie asked.

Honestly, I didn’t.

I wanted to go look at the new builds. Look at getting new RAM for my pc and new RGB lighting. But I don’t think I could take seeing Sebastian and that girl together, so I agreed and followed Abbie. I found more than I thought I would. I found new models for Solorian Chronicles, the game Sam and Sebastian played every Saturday night. An adventure diary for Abbie. I found myself in front of the Lawn and Garden section, staring at a copy of ‘Farming for Dummies’. I frowned.

“Whatcha got there?” Abbie asked appearing from behind a shelf. I jumped and shook my head.

“Just stuff,” I shrugged. I looked at the stack of books in her arms. They were all adventure books, the main character female, I smiled to myself.

Abbie glanced at the shelf and frowned. “Don’t tell me you are getting that.”

I shrugged again.

“Kit, come on you are way better than that,” she scoffed.

“Abbie, I have no idea what I’m doing,” I sighed. “Thankfully Summer is coming up, which is the only season I know shit about, but damn.” For the first time I felt defeated. “Grandpa’s busiest season was summer and fall, but they were also his most profitable. That’s actually why I started going to Gaia Farm. Dad sent me there so I wouldn’t be a lazy ass all Summer and I could help grandpa out. Did I learn a lot, definitely. But I’m still flying blind here.”

Abbie’s face scrunched up, before taking one of her books and bopping me on the head with it.

“Ow!” I rubbed the spot she hit.

“Kit, I can honestly say I understand, I do,” she began. “Recently my dad has been giving me a lot more to do around the store. More responsibility, taking shifts by myself, showing me how to order. But if he were to die tomorrow I would have no idea what to do. I’d probably just burn the store down.” Her statement was very matter of fact. “I think you are just overwhelmed right now. Give it some time and Hurricane Kit will sweep through Gaia Farm and so much ass will have been kicked.” Abbie looked at the shelf and plucked a book off and added it to my pile ‘Farming for Beginners’.

“If our hands weren’t full, I’d hug you,” I sniffled.

“We will hug it out later.” Abbie laughed.

The guys were ecstatic about their gifts, it was a model castle, with a little village and a few characters that they were going to build and paint over the weekend. Abbie whispered “nerds” under her breath earning glares from both boys. We hung out at the mall for a little bit longer, then explored the town. I took them to my favorite Mexican restaurant, then showed them my old apartment. I pointed to the 3rd floor window that used to be mine. Sebastian stared at that window, a sense of longing in his eyes.

“I’m confused,” Abbie said from beside me.

“About?” I looked at her.

“Why is do you have fire escape if there are bars on the windows?” She asked with a laugh.

Sebastian frowned, his head cocked.

Behind us a large truck revved its engine, smoke poured from the exhaust and overwhelmed us. A horn honked. Tires squealed.

I waved my hand in front of my face to help clear away smoke. The others coughed loudly and tried to fan the smoke away. Once things settled I answered Abbie’s question. “So the bars on the window were installed after someone broke into a 5th story window and they installed the bars on for safety measures.”

My friends stared at me unblinking.

“What?”

“That dumb,” Sebastian blinked.

“I’m aware.”

The sun was setting and the street lights began blinking on, we headed back to the train station. The ride home was quite, both Abbie and Sam had fallen asleep the moment they sat down. Abbie’s head on his shoulder, his head resting atop hers.

“They are so cute when they aren’t talking,” I bumped my elbow against Sebastian’s.

“Yeah they are. I can almost tolerate them.”

I snickered. He began scrolling through his phone, his brows coming together.

“What’s up Bash?”

He hummed and kept scrolling. “I just got a new project to work on, so it’s going to be a late night.”

“Project?”

“Yeah for coding, it’s for a new medical software.”

I stared at him, one eye brow raised. “That’s impressive.”

Sebastian snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “You are the only one who thinks so.”

He turned away from me and stared out the window. I sighed and leaned back in my seat, guess that conversation is over.

We sat like this for awhile, in silence, listening to the heavy breathing of our two sleeping friends.

“Thanks for yesterday,” Sebastian finally said.

“For what?” I turned to him.

“Helping me through the anxiety attack,” his voice was low, just above a whisper.

“Of course,” I shrugged. “I...”

My voice caught in my throat. I what? Care about you? Like you? Want to kiss your stupid face?

“I’m glad I could be there for you.”

Sebastian faced me, eyes exploring my face for a moment before turning back to the window.

[happymetalgirl]

July 2020

Machine Head - Civil Unrest

On this two-song EP, Robb Flynn once again leans into spur-of-the-moment inspiration in an effort to jolt Machine Head out of the creative fatigue that plagued the polarizing Catharsis, but unfortunately the approach that didn’t really work for “Volatile” doesn’t really work for “Stop the Bleeding” or “Bulletproof”, and it all adds up upon the revelation that these songs are constructed from scraps off the Catharsis kitchen floor. Robb’s finger is on the pulse of the tension underlying American politics and his heart is in the right place (which I commend him for his steadfastness to in the face of the apparently sizable chud subset of Machine Head’s fanbase), he just needs to take his delivery a little off the nose. Of the two songs, “Bulletproof” is definitely the stronger and more hard-hitting, while the goofy 2000′s metalcore melodicism of “Stop the Bleeding” meshes poorly with the grim subject matter Robb attaches to the track. In the grand scheme of Machine Head’s career, this EP (and the two non-album singles that preceded it last year) is disappointing filler that does nothing to lift the band out of the dry creative well they’ve found themselves in.

5/10

Khemmis - More Songs About Death, Vol. 1

A much more solid two-track EP, Khemmis’ More Songs About Death, Vol. 1 is comprised of a groovy cover of Misfits’ “Skulls” and an acoustic rendition of the folk song, “A Conversation with Death”, that the band had covered electrically for a split they did with Spirit Adrift. The band adapt well to the more original acoustic style of the latter song, as soulful as ever even with acoustic subtlety replacing their open-hearted doom metal. As for the Misfits cover, the band apply their signature harmonic doom guitar work to give it a signature seal while adhering to the core foundation of the song, and they show that the song does take to their brand of doom quite well. After Desolation and being signed to Nuclear Blast, Khemmis sure were excited to get working on their fourth LP. Now that of course sits on the list of many projects the pandemic has forcefully postponed, but these kinds of offerings and the band’s hinting that they might just come out of this with two albums’ worth of material is helping make the wait a little more bearable. Thank you as always, Khemmis.

more respect to Khemmis/10

Inter Arma - Garbers Days Revisited

Coming off the back of their magnum opus, Sulphur English, Inter Arma’s offering to hold the quarantined world over until the band’s next opus is a quick (by their standards) covers album of metal and hardcore classics, as well as some surprising classic and southern rock tunes. And the band manage the eight diverse songs with an impressive display of two-way adaptability. Turning “The Girl Who Lives on Heaven Hill” into a blackgaze blast-beat fest and “Scarecrow” and into a crushing blackened sludge-doom epic while layering their atmospheric black metal smoothly over the old-school rock grooves of Neil Young’s “Southern Man” Inter Arma show an aptitude for selecting cover songs that fit their style. It sure helps that they’re a versatile act too, bending their mammothian heaviness to suit the core appeal of covers of Cro-Mags’ “Hard Times”, Nine Inch Nails’ “March of the Pigs”, and Venom’s “In League with Satan” while shedding all that sludge to expose their southern rock roots on (slightly) more stripped back tunes like “Runnin’ Down a Dream” and Prince’s “Purple Rain” (a closer so fittingly beautiful it seems almost unfair), which find them embellishing soulfully and clearly enjoying themselves in the studio. A lineup of tracks like this would make be nervous for whatever band was trying to tackle them, but Inter Arma prove that can shapeshift back to their southern roots just as well as they can bulldoze as needed to do their own justice to these several tracks, making for one of the best cover albums I’ve heard for a while.

8/10

This Will Destroy You - Vespertine

Serving as a soundtrack project for a highly rated California This Will Destroy You seemingly took a long time with this project, having released the “Kitchen” single in 2017 under the same premise. The album is entirely ambient, and not quite as experimental with glitchy electro-ambiance as projects like Tunnel Blanket or Another Language were. Instead, Vespertine highlights the serene/somber atmospheric foundation of the band’s post-metal/rock sound that made the Young Mountain EP and their self-titled LP such transcendent experiences and exemplary advocates for post-rock upon their release. And it’s a great display of just how the band’s discernible ambient style can shine through even such a minimal approach. It is basic ambient music for sure, no additives, but it’s unmistakably This Will Destroy You to those who know them, and it hearkens back to some of their best work, so I see it as a welcome addition to the band’s catalog.

7/10

Static-X - Project Regeneration, Vol. 1

Rebooted in honor of Wayne Static after his untimely passing in 2017 the original line-up and Dope frontman Edsel Dope behind a mask resembling the late singer and the pseudonym Xer0, Static-X return after over a decade of radio silence since 2009′s Cult of Static to mesh the final recordings of Wayne Static for the band with contributions from Xer0 on the first of two volumes of new material under this premise of paying tribute. Despite the lengthy absence and the loss of the band’s central creative force, the album is a mostly smooth transition from Cult of Static with some callbacks to the electro industrial metal of earlier albums like Shadow Zone and Machine. While it captures the essence of Static-X across its 39-minute track list with a handful of hard-hitting industrial nu metal bangers, Project Regeneration - Vol. 1 is a bit of a dry recount of the band’s legacy, and I hope the band saved the better chunk of songs for the second installment.

6/10

An Autumn for Crippled Children - All Fell Silent, Everything Went Quiet

An Autumn for Crippled Children is an anonymous Dutch trio who are helping to keep the blackgaze movement going with their eighth full-length album here. The band released their seventh not long ago in 2018, but this year’s is my introduction to the band, which has been a pleasant one. All Fell Silent, Everything Went Quiet is a moderately sized offering of heartfelt blackgaze as you know it from the likes of Deafheaven and Ghost Bath channeled through more second-wave-like stylings of the Norwegian black metal scene; so it sounds kind of like if Mayhem made more open-hearted music rather than deflected edginess through Satan-worshipping (not to shit on Mayhem or anything). There is more to this album, however, than just diluted or lo-fi Deafheaven worship; through the haze of the band’s fuzzy blackgaze is some pretty dynamic songwriting and impressive. More than just soaking distorted guitars in reverb and juxtaposing blackmetal screams with post-rock ambiance, An Autumn for Crippled Children capture some of that emotional diversity that makes blackgaze at its best (...Sunbather) so divinely captivating. And the spacious beauty the band conjures out of the negative space in the static-y guitars and thin percussion on songs like “Water’s Edge”, “Paths”, and the title track is surprisingly enveloping, but the standout cut on the album I’d say is the very unashamedly Ghost-Bath-y “Silver” for its overt heartfelt delivery with every instrument and its integration of what even sounds like a piano. I doubt this would convert many black metal purists who idolize Burzum and Darkthrone. In fact I bet this album would upset them even more than New Bermuda, but for those without a stick up their ass, looking for some juicy blackgaze with a different set of ingredients than your Harakiri for the Sky or Wolves in the Throne Room, this is some good shit.

8/10

Bury Tomorrow - Cannibal

I gave this one a good several tries because 2018’s Black Flame grew on me significantly after my incredibly underwhelmed first couple of listens, but sadly Cannibal strikes melodic metalcore gold far less often than its predecessor and finds Bury Tomorrow knee deep in the unflattering tropes that the genre is trying to shake off. With a pretty one-note approach to melodicism that results in a largely homogeneously flat emotional tone across the album, it’s definitely a step down from the emboldened and invigorated Black Flame that negates any sense of the band’s ambition that that album might have given off. I can point out “Better Below” and the brief breakdown on “Gods & Machines” as mild highlights in the tracklist, but they only really stand out because the rest of the surrounding tracks are so dry. I’d like to say that things just didn’t click this time or that some experiments just didn’t pan out, but it’s quite clearly just the lack of imagination and ambition that sinks this project deep into the background of forgettable metalcore, and I know this band can do better.

4/10

Kansas - The Absence of Presence

They’re hardly even metal-adjacent but for their sizable contribution to the 70′s prog rock movement that such a huge proportion of metalheads are into, a new Kansas album I suppose counts as on-topic for this blog. The band returned after a decade and a half of absence with a stuttering restart without iconic vocalist Steve Walsh on 2016′s The Prelude Implicit, and it was clear that they needed to do more than yearn for glory days to get the gears back in motion, so with The Absence of Presence the band’s new blood has stepped up to the plate to inject some freshness into the band’s compositional process. The band still sticks to that core violin-spiced prog rock that characterized their iconic 70′s albums, but the structuring and soloing style (especially the keys) are a bit more modernized than the band’s past work, and by modern I mean what Dream Theater sounded like in the 2000′s. Make no mistake, though, it’s an improvement on The Prelude Implicit, and it highlights the band’s talents and natural grandiose tendencies far more than the radio rock singles they’re most widely known for, and the cinematic bridge of the opening title track is sturdy proof of this. It’s a testament to the influence they have had on modern prog through the genre’s biggest bands like Dream Theater, and perhaps a testament to the two-wayedness of that street as well as fun, bombastic tunes like “Throwing Mountains” sound like they would fit easily on something like A Dramatic Turn of Events or as a break from all the melancholy on a Steven Wilson project. The album does wear a little thin on ballads like “Memories Down the Line”, but it makes up for its duller moments with plenty of exuberant prog expressiveness on most of the songs (the closing track being probably the standout example), which should be a good time for most of the band’s fans who fondly remember albums like Masque and Monolith, and any newer prog fans who may not be aware of the band’s influence on today’s prog metal.

7/10

Haken - Virus

Speaking of respectable modern prog though, Haken’s aptly named album this year serves as quite the easy bar to clear for prog metal so far this decade. I regretfully missed out on their 2018 sister album, Vector, but I am partially mending that ill by covering Virus here. Like I said earlier, it’s a solid record that captures the smoothness and tempered heaviness of Soen and the attitude of early Opeth with the angularity of Tool, but even if it ends up being the year’s best prog metal album, I don’t think it will be too long before one of the genre’s juggernauts (or even exciting new faces) kamehamehas this one away. The album starts out pretty solid in its first few tracks, but remains pretty meager and restrained in its explosiveness until midway through the album, relying on rather short bursts of typical prog heaviness like the opening of “Prosthetic”, whose rumbly bassline is a delicious highlight amongst the Townsend-esque choir implementation. The ten-minute “Carousel” ups the band’s expressiveness after the deceptive soothe of the second track with a clash of goth-y ambiance and pounding metallic bombast. The five-part “Messiah Complex” suite finds the band at their most adventurous, straddling the winding mid-song compositional whirl of Dream Theater with the occasional eccentricity and djenty heaviness of producer Nolly’s former band Periphery, the band still sound themselves and confident in every move they make, like true prog masters, ending beautifully on the two-minute “Only Stars”. I think it might end up being the year’s best straight-up prog metal album, and the band have worked hard to earn that honor, but I would honestly be surprised if someone else or Haken themselves don’t outdo it within a year. That’s to take away from what an exciting 52 minutes of prog this is, because with such a moderate runtime for such a tight prog album, it’s definitely deserving of the respect of a top album in its field.

8/10

Skeleton - Skeleton

Even though I tend to end up liking them, I find myself skeptical of projects whose aesthetic feels forcedly retro or whose marketing is focused heavily on nostalgia, and the self-titled debut from the Austin-based trio, Skeleton, complete with its intentionally cheesy and amateurish cover art, definitely checked those boxes. I even got the sense from 20 Buck Spin (being that I’m on their mailing list and follow their accounts and all) that they were more excited than usual to be releasing the trio’s debut. And honestly, after a few listens through of not being all too aroused by the crusty proto-death metal at the core of the band’s sound, the traditional heavy metal focus on infectious guitar riffs helped the album grow on me a good bit. The stylistic versatility of the guitar playing really is the cornerstone of the album, from the Kill ‘Em All-style riffs on “Taste of Blood” and early Sepultura-esque galloping on “At War” to the blackened punk grit of “A Far Away Land” and the even more catchy classic metal riffs on “Turned to Stone” and the melancholic old-school doom atmosphere on “Ring of Fire”. The snarled black metal vocals are gnarly in that old-school sense, throaty and raspy but kind of cheesily thin too to fit with the aesthetic the band are going for, and it’s a pretty similar story with the drums: not flashy at all by today’s standards but just right to supplement the guitar work and complete the vibe. And of course with 11 tracks not even grazing the half hour mark, the songs are pretty trim and compositionally bare bones, falling into quick, crust punk formats foregoing the typical verse-chorus paradigm. Yes, Skeleton has grown on me, and I’m curious to see if they end up expanding this sound like Ghost did from Opus Eponymous to stay creatively fresh or if they plan to draw from the long-abandoned (or less frequented) wells of musical elements they did on this album for the foreseeable future.

7/10

Burzum - Thulêan Mysteries

I know that in a lot of circles (including some I consider myself a part of), saying something even vaguely positive about Burzum invites a wave of disapproval for supporting (or at the very least, excusing) the black metal world’s most notorious villain’s racism, but I can’t say with a straight that Varg Vikernes didn’t play a huge part in shaping Norwegian black metal as we know it or that I don’t like Filosofem or Hvis lyset tar oss. I don’t think that amounts to supporting the guy’s racist bullshit, and luckily Varg has made it pretty easy not to support his racist bullshit because Burzum has been shit for a long long time now; in fact I’d say Filosofem was the last worthwhile Burzum album, with his pathetically bad ambient records during and after his time in prison and the three stale black metal albums that welcomed him back from prison. After such a weak return to music from prison and Burzum’s discontinuation-turned-hiatus, it seemed overdue that Varg finally retire the Burzum project after the unimaginative ambiance of The Ways of Yore. I mean the project has thoroughly emulated the trope of the white guy who views everything he touches as way more genius than anyone else does, which is pretty rich for a guy so willing to dismiss the current black metal scene as derivative, and he’s seemed more invested in whatever it is he’s been doing on YouTube or his blog. Nevertheless, Varg remains an infamous figure in metal probably to a lot of dudes who think there’s some esoteric genius to decode in his lore, to an extent I find kinda disturbing. The weird reverence a lot of the metal community has for the neo-nazi murderer’s cult of personality (the vast majority of whose discography is masturbatory throwaway doodling) is astounding. So this guy’s back, with an hour and a half of, by his own account, ambient scraps of dungeon synth music that he built up over an extended period of time and basically figured he’d compile into an album (because, like I said, everything he touches must be gold in his eyes), and goddamn it sure sounds like exactly what he pitches it as. The first track, “The Sacred Well”, is actually pretty soothing and decent helping of ethereal ambient music, but it doesn’t take long for things to go downhill. The annoyingly repetitive acoustic motif of “ForeBears” and the absolutely amateurish improvised piano plinking of “A Thulêan Perspective” quickly shed light on just how lazily patched together this thing is, while the subsequent “Gathering of Herbs” literally cuts off awkwardly like the full track didn’t upload fully. A few tracks like “Jötunnheimr” and “The Road to Hel” offer some fleeting promise in their eeriness, but they disappear as quickly as most of the tracks here do, in a flash of confusion as clearly incomplete ideas piled into an album for no reason that even Varg can justify. The last third of the album contains some of the longer tracks, but the swapping of fragments of half-assed keyboard doodles for half-assed demos spread thinner than tissue paper is a trade-off akin to the upcoming general election and it’s too little and way too late. I have to highlight the laughably farty synthesizer horns on “Ruins of Dwarfmount”; I mean thank god it’s quick because it’s absolutely awful, but the chuckle I get out of how bad it is is probably the best experience I have from this whole album. Just about everything on here is some combination of irritatingly repetitive, blatantly incomplete, or grossly unprofessional, and the thing that gets me is that it’s not like ambient music or dungeon synth is any sort of rocket science. I’m not at all the kind of music genius Varg’s weird devotees see him to be, but given the same equipment, even I could undoubtedly make a better ambient album than this. Although I’m not nearly as well-versed in ambient music as I am in metal, I have heard enough of a chunk of it to say I know the good shit and the bad shit, but honestly, this album is a new low for me. I didn’t know an ambient album could suck this much. It’s like an extended Daudi Baldrs with a slightly better keyboard, but with no excuse this time for the cheapness of the sound and certainly not the length. Yeah, piece of shit.

2/10

Boris - NO

Tokyo’s prolific sonic shapeshifters have all but given up on giving up, and I suppose the title of this year’s record summarizes their brief questioning of if they stop making music. The band’s first intended farewell album, Dear, which found them (not really) bowing out to the sorrowful drone doom of their most iconic record (Pink), was followed them by last year’s LφVE & EVφL, which saw them revisiting various shades of their career as comfortably as ever. NO finds the power trio on another stylistic tour of sorts, this time through some of their heaviest and most grimy territory, starting from brooding sludge doom to spending most of the album on Slayer-esque thrash and hardcore punk ripe with gritty attitude. The production is thick and nasty as is usually best for Boris, but the writing on this record is just kind of absent-minded for such a stylistically varied project. While the more drony opener, “Genesis”, rides its runtime well on the raw heaviness that the band put the pure simplicity of their slow groove through, the farther the band step away from their wheelhouse, the more apparent sparseness becomes of the more underwritten songs like the meatheadedly punky “Kikinoue” and “Fundamental Error”. We get some crushing riffs like that on “Anti-Gone”, but also some clumsy wailing about like on the song “Lust” that calls into question the effort Boris put in at the drawing board. The sheer power is there, but it’s being used generally inefficiently on a sizeable portion of NO. Still, it’s pretty cool to hear Boris at this pace, and the pure energy they pour into this project is enough to get the job done.

7/10

Tuscoma - Discourse

Tuscoma’s follow-up to the wildly eccentric Arkhitecturenominus is gets off to a slow start with its rather generic churn of blowtorch-blackened post-metal through its first two tracks and is short on risks for the reputably ambitious duo, but Discourse does eventually kick in to dig deep to tap as much of the frightful potential of the band’s sound and showcases a decent example of what the New Zealanders are known for and of lies out in left-field of post-metal.

6/10

Executioner’s Mask - Despair Anthems

Making their debut as a collective for Profound Lore, the quintet of seasoned post-punk creatives embark on an eccentric voyage through darkwave on a ship of modern gothic rock, and the results are as fascinating as they sound on paper, recalling the cerebral ritualism of Children of God-era Swans as much as the energetically veiled despair of Type O Negative and AFI while dipping the rock elements into the industrial side of darkwave every now and then. And again, the product is an effortless immersiveness into the record’s moody journey, not through atmosphere-building, but through the infectiousness of the goth dance numbers take you on. It’s certainly more of a metal-adjacent album than a bonafide metal album, but the way the band captures the despair they set out to is as effective through more subtly seething means as DSBM’s best, and the band’s adventurousness with their sonic palette alone makes for an interesting listen, or several, as I will certainly be giving this project more than its fair share of my ears.

8/10

Ensiferum - Thalassic

Very similar to Amon Amarth’s longtime solidification of their sound, the Finnish talents seem able to simply exhale exhilaration through their both tried-and-true and continually honed black-reinforced power folk metal. And it’s clear the band are on autopilot at least to some degree on Thalassic here because the writing is pretty homogeneous and formulaic nearly all the way through; that being said, the sheer energy of the band’s performances into a sound experience allows them to wield so effortlessly more than carries them across the seas they sing of.

7/10 

Bedsore - Hypnagogic Hallucinations

Stepping out from the shadows of Italy to present the great big world of metal with their forty-minute debut-album, the four-piece on the 20 Buck Spin label make their grand atmospheric aspirations for their brand of death metal immediately known across seven tracks of hellish wails and haunted ambiance. Taking ominous clean guitar motif-writing and structuring influence from Neurosis to the point of uncannily resembling “Souls at Zero” on the second track, “The Gate, Closure (Sarcoptes Obitus)”, Bedsore still inject plenty of their own distorted flair into the cavernous death-metal-flavored howl they espouse on Hypnagogic Hallucinations. The band do bank rather heavily on the immersiveness of the atmosphere they try to conjure, leaving a blind spot in the album’s dynamic beyond the fluctuations between clean and distorted nightmare. Compositional shortcomings aside, this is a solid debut to set the Italians on a bright prospective future.

7/10

Spirit Possesion - Spirit Possesion

Blackened thrash metal is one of those smaller subgenres within metal that feels more like a niche occupied by a few stalwarts like Aura Noir, Goatwhore, and Deströyer 666, but now Spirit Possession is making the bid to join those ranks and potentially turn more spotlight onto the specifically hybridized style. The band’s self-titled debut brims with the thrash enthusiasm of Bathory and the old-school riffing that shaped the way the early progenitors of black metal composed theirs, and not only is the Portland duo’s riff-game on point, but goddamn does it sound savory and spicy as hell through the more flattering production and against the backdrop of modern black metal a la Watain. The nasty chug on the song “Swallowing Throne” really highlights the benefit of the thicker, tastier production. The exceptionally grand “Amongst Inverted Castles and Holy Laughter” is a fine example of the band straddling old and new with impressive flexibility, while the bulk of the album's indulgence into early black metal and thrash is impossible not to want to indulge with, like a really fun party with a good crowd that makes it so much easier to have a few more drinks than you originally intended to.

8/10

Defeated Sanity - The Sanguinary Impetus

Through just enough delicious riffing,  memorable accentuation, and technicality on par with Dying Fetus packed into structurally creative bite-sized portions, brutal death metal stalwarts Defeated Sanity somehow make a pretty persuasive take-it-or-leave-it case for the genre.

7/10

Paysage d’Hiver - Im Wald

The boldly two-hour debut double-album from Paysage d’Hiver is also a bit of a double-edged sword, basing partly its very ethereal black metal atmosphere on the homemade sound that regularly kneecaps the grander feel the project is going for. And the album does indeed reach some soaring heights of blizzard-stung ambiance, which the biting sound of the tinny, but engaged, percussion and the vexed swooning of the tremolo-picked guitar playing across the album’s several indeed well-organized lengthy tracks. It takes a lot to trudge through the long path covered in thick snow that this album sets out on, and the lo-fi production often doesn’t help the individual elements that make Im Wald enjoyable stand out, and it can be all too easy to get lost in the homogeneous whitewash of the hazy winter wind. It’s a rewarding journey to finally make it all the way through with unbroken attention, but blame for the easiness of that attention being lapsed can at least partially be placed on the shoulders of Paysage d’Hiver for its mastermind’s one-note approach to an otherwise well-arranged and well-composed album.

7/10

Gaerea - Limbo

Despite the members’ faceless appearances behind their fully-covering black cloth masks, Gaerea’s music does not hold back its sorrowful outpour through heavy atmospheric black metal that crashes through and drowns like torrential flood waves as much as it tears at the heartstrings through unabashed languishing. The massive weight of the band’s sound invokes the feeling of being in the presence of an incarnate deity weeping at the ills of mankind and the destruction they have forced this deity to bring about. Abstract descriptors of the album’s experience aside, the band aren’t really doing too much new for the atmospheric black metal they’re making, not breaking any rules or pushing any boundaries, but everything that makes the genre so attractive is turned up to eleven. I was ready to be as critical as ever, but I could immediately see not long into my first listen why Season of Mist were so excited to hype up the Portuguese outfit’s incredibly accomplished sophomore release. The guitar playing is simultaneously powerful and beautiful, much like that of the Ulcerate album from earlier this year (Stare into Death and Be Still) that I also loved, and the drumming is just as ceaselessly thunderous in support. The lamenting screamed vocals are possibly the least exaggerated facet of the album, but certainly not the the point of being unfitting, in fact they fit the chaotically despondent mood quite well, or a detriment to the record’s overall barrage of mourning. As for how all these massive pieces are arranged, they all crash in synchronized waves in a fashion, again, not at all unfamiliar to anyone who’s heard blackgaze, but the raw passion of the band’s performances exemplify why this strategy is so widely adopted for atmospheric black metal. Gaerea have made quite the statement of intent on this one, and I will definitely be enjoying it repeatedly throughout the year and beyond.

9/10

Upon a Burning Body - Built from War

Upon a Burning Body went full Lamb of God last year with their very trim and direct 31-minute fifth LP, Southern Hostility, focusing their efforts on making their southern brand of groovy deathcore as tastily whiskey-soaked as possible, laying on the groove heavily and unrestrained in a way that I thought definitely worked in their favor. Just a year later, the band are back with a 17-minute addendum to their infectiously brash display of muscular bravado, and it’s pretty much as brutishly intense as expected as the band bounce through single-string grooves and ripping drum rhythms to the same conclusions they did last year, only this time it feels so much more fatigued, like they’re trying to artificially replicate this genuinely pissed off attitude that produced results for them despite just not being in that kind of headspace at the moment. The songs are pretty baseline for them and generic as fuck, missing that X factor that made Southern Hostility’s distilled rage so tangible and fun. Built from War has some of the staple features that made its predecessor such a good time, but despite its few high-energy moments across the five tracks, it feels like an unnecessary rehash of the lightning in a whiskey bottle they had last year, just no lightning, so empty whisky bottles that bear the smell to remind you of what was previously in them.

5/10

The Acacia Strain - Slow Decay

I have been pretty harsh on The Acacia Strain in the past; they haven’t come up much on my blog, but the times they have, I feel I’ve been a little overly critical of their use of elements that I’ve perceived as excessive that they’ve used to forge their recognizable sound. The band released a mini album (It Comes in Waves) on Closed Casket Activities just before last year was over and I didn’t even hear it until a few months in to this year, and honestly, I wasn’t all too broken up about it because it was some of the band’s most lethargic, meandering material to date; dragging aimlessly until the last two tracks of the album, a significant step down from 2017′s already middle-of-the-road Gravebloom. So with those albums in recent memory I was kind of not looking forward to Slow Decay all too much, but a few days before its release, I refreshed myself on the band’s 2014 album, Coma Witch, which I remember as a culmination of what The Acacia Strain had been trying to morph their horrific, hardcore-tinged deathcore into since Continent, and it was a great time, that album, and it made me a little more hopeful for the band’s tenth LP (if you count It Comes in Waves). And Slow Decay indeed has The Acacia Strain back on track after the stuttering of the past two releases. The burgeoning metallic hardcore movement over the past few years has certainly vindicated The Acacia’s Strain’s steadfast adherance to their hardcore roots, and with there really being no time like the present for that kind of energy, the stars’ aligning has indeed brought the best out of The Acacia Strain. And on Slow Decay, it’s not like the band have changed up their hardcore-driven approach to djenty deathcore all too much from what they did on Coma Witch, they just sound energgized through a good batch of songs this time, the many situations at hand showing their influence on the rage the ban draws from bleeding through the lyrics ranging from critiquing anti-vaccine sentiments to blasting the snobbishly entitled attitude of boomers. The fiery disdain for the state of the world comes through hard on the blood-pumping chug of “Crippling Poison”, the punchy, pissed-off groove of “Inverted Person”, and the rest of the dissonant horror-tinged riffing all across the album, and it just goes to show that The Acacia Strain have found a groove that works for them and when they have the right fuel for their fire, they can incinerate anything in sight. 

8/10

Imperial Triumphant - Alphaville

After revolutionizing the method of jazzification of metal music on 2018’s Vile Luxury, I was ready for a satisfying continuation of jazzy death metal from Imperial Triumphant, but I was not prepared for the wildness of the band’s ambition with their sound and beyond and the incredible success of their sonic expansion on Alphaville. The band are still jazzy as fuck on their successor to Vile Luxury but they’re not advertising it as blatantly like a product-placed soda can this time around, partially because they can’t with so much else going on in the nightmarish mix of sounds. The combination of dissonant grand piano chords over palm-muted chugging and merciless blast-beats on “City Swine” is perhaps the most overt example of the trio’s love for the traditional sounds of the type of jazz often associated with the big apple, but the palpable jazz influence in the winding guitar lines and dizzying drumming all across Alphaville continues to set Imperial Triumphant apart even within their wing of metal’s avant-garde. Indeed, their sound reaches beyond mere genre hybridization; the band incorporates various avant-garde elements in an experimental, yet clearly well-engineered manner all over the album. From the haunting fuzzy dissonance and disorienting electronics of the title track and the odd inclusion of taiko drumming by Meshuggah’s Tomas Haake to the gloriously frightful choir climaxes on both “Atomic Age” and “Transmission to Mercury”, Alphaville is full of surprises, and a size-able step forward for a band already bounds ahead of the curve on their previous album.

9/10

[fericita-s]

This Will All Make Sense When I am Older

‘Twas the night before the wedding and all through the land, people were giving advice to Agnarr and Iduna.  It was getting out of hand.

Thanks for the beta-ing @the-spastic-fantastic! Again,the, absence, of, too, many, commas, is, thanks, to, her and also the snappy dialogue.  Part of our canon-comlpiant series When All is Lost about Iduna and Agnarr.

***

Henrik puffed on his pipe, relishing the taste as well as Agnarr’s discomfort with the topic at hand.  The wedding was tomorrow and Henrik, as his most experienced friend in the ways of wooing women, felt it was his duty to impart his hard-earned wisdom for the good of the kingdom.  Practical wisdom, in the form of an offer to visit some ladies who would be willing, when paid, to provide some hands on experience.

“No, Henrik! No! That’s - that’s just a crazy thing for a king to do at all, and even crazier for a groom to do the night before his wedding!” Agnarr shook his head vehemently, his ears turning red and his pulse quickening.

“Well if you won’t do that, then at least listen, my friend.  I know you want to please Iduna and give the kingdom several heirs – “

At Agnarr’s terrified  look, Elias interjected. “You’re scaring him! Stop.” Elias stood and tried to change the topic by setting up the chess board.  Henrik waved a dismissive hand at his friend.

“Look, I’ve been with a lot of women and they all really want one thing.  To be cherished. So you have to be sure she feels cherished.”

Agnarr placed the pawns on the board, then the rooks, knights, and bishops and gave a soft laugh. “And how was I supposed to learn that from your ladies of the night?”

“Listen, I didn’t say it had to be sincere or eternal, I just said they have to believe it. So whatever you’re feeling, you just have to be sure she feels loved.”  Henrik leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankle over his knee, pleased to have offered such helpful words, convinced he had done a service to his kingdom and king.

“You sound like my father,” Agnarr groaned.  “Conceal, don’t feel.  Though he was speaking about how to handle emotion during a council meeting, not how to woo women.  I think.”  He made a face.  “I hope.”

Elias, setting up the kings and queens, offered “Ag, don’t listen to him. Sincerity is the best thing you can offer and, lucky for you, you are marrying a woman you already cherish. And she knows it.  Remember the velocipede you absolutely didn’t buy so you could ride it with her? And the time you almost trampled the entire market square with a herd of reindeer for her? For heaven’s sake, we’ve called you her puppy for years.  She knows you love her. You don’t have to worry on that account.”

Agnarr smiled, remembering. What a relief to be on this side of their courtship, their feelings for one another confirmed, their promises of a lifetime commitment to one another merely hours away. But then he frowned, catching the implication of Elias’ words. “Is there another “account” I should be worried about?”

Henrik, hoping to be useful again, straightened up in his seat. “You’ll be fine.  Just pay lots of attention to her feet.”

Elias laughed and Agnarr looked alarmed.

“Her…feet?” Agnarr thought that while Iduna’s feet were lovely, there were other parts of her to which he would like to pay particular attention.

Henrik nodded, and then looked at Elias as he said “And I was just trying to take the pressure off.  Of course I know how much Ag loves her.  The whole kingdom does.  Really makes it hard for the rest of us mortal men here to compare.”

Elias interjected before Henrik could continue. “No, Ag, having their feet kissed is not something all women want.  Just listen to her and you’ll learn together.”

Agnarr nodded, another question in his mind. “And how will we learn this exactly? I was so bad at kissing her at first, I knocked her in the forehead and then almost bit her,” he blushed at the memory.  “It was not my finest moment.”

Henrik groaned. “The kingdom is doomed! There will be a succession crisis! They’ll be childless! He’ll never figure it out!”

Elias playfully shoved Henrik, who continued to smoke his pipe, unbothered.  “Think about it this way, Ag.  You and Iduna have gone on lots of adventures together.  Explored new places, trusted each other in scary moments, laughed at the ridiculous and at nothing at all. This is just one more thing.  A great thing, to be sure, but one that you’re both in, together.  She wants this and you want this. Just be patient. It might take time, but it will be wonderful.” Elias raised a finger to silence Henrik as he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.  “And if anyone reads into that anything about my lovely fiancé, I want to remind them that we are completely pure and blameless and I would do nothing to besmirch my honor or hers.  And that my swordsmanship is better than either of yours.”

“And if it’s not wonderful, I have some very helpful charts I can show you, Ag.” Henrik leaned forward, and seemed to reach for his back pocket.  “And some manuals from Paris.”

“No! No thank you.  I think…we’ll be fine,” Agnarr half-heartedly looked at the chess pieces set up and moved a pawn. Three spaces.  Elias moved it back to the start.

“Maybe you should practice buttons.  Do kings even dress themselves? Do you even know how to undo buttons or has your valet always done that for you?” Henrik seemed to genuinely be wondering, and began buttoning his coat, perhaps to have Agnarr practice on it.

“Henrik! I do manage to undo the fastenings to use the water closet.” Agnarr managed a true laugh, and his nervousness began to recede.

“Well those are your trousers. Have you thought of practicing on women’s clothes? I’m sure the gown she’s wearing will be very complicated. Maybe we should go find it and have you take a turn undoing the buttons.  We could time you! A contest!”

Elias put his arm around Agnarr. “I don’t know what’s in that pipe, but he’s not making any sense.  Of course you can do buttons.  Of course you will know how to love your wife, and you don’t need any more advice from us or from anyone.”

Agnarr stood up, unable to concentrate on the game, and needing a moment alone.  “I’m going to head to the kitchen and get us some food.  That will be sure to sober Henrik up and get this game going.”

***

Don't Let Them In, Don't Let Them See

Greet, Maddie and Iduna sat cross-legged on the giant bed, eating chocolates and sharing sips of mulled wine.  Iduna had asked her friends to spend the night in the castle, a final chance to be roommates and act silly and eat a ridiculous amount of chocolate before Iduna's life would start to look very different.  

Maddie and her partner Ingrid would still be making regular deliveries of dry goods to the castle, and those could turn into visits.  But Henrik was often traveling and Elias kept hoping to travel, and who knew what Greet would be up to in another week or month or year. The wedding marked a change not just in her status, but in the lives of her friends and their ability to see each other as often as they had.

She didn't know exactly what to expect from royal duties, but Agnarr assured her there was plenty of time to learn, and that the kingdom was so thrilled to gain a queen that they wouldn't mind if she was a different type of queen than had been seen before.  Besides, after her traditional medicinal knowledge and skills in curing the Rock Pox, some citizens thought she had magical powers, and who wouldn't love a magical queen? Even one who occasionally forgot the seven different types of customary greetings for Arendellian holidays? Or didn't know how to stand when reviewing the troops?

 And really, her official duties would be minimal. She could continue overseeing the gardens and turning their harvest into medicinal stores, joining the council with the official title of Queen rather than as Royal Apothecary, an honorary title she had been awarded for her service in stopping the epidemic.  Agnarr had also mentioned something about writing and receiving royal correspondences..  

Maddie and Greet, however, were trying to explain to Iduna how they thought she should go about performing one particular royal duty.  

"The first time is just always terrible.  It's uncomfortable, if not painful." Greet shrugged and Maddie laughed.  Iduna grabbed the chocolates from her, hoping that would change the course of the conversation. 

Greet continued, undeterred.  "But it feels so powerful to make a man do that. And it will get better. Be sure to use the chamber pot right after, that way you won't get pregnant." 

Iduna had started off annoyed and now was truly horrified. "Greet! That's not about preventing pregnancy, that's about preventing infection! Tell me you drink that tea I make you, every time.  Please?" Was Greet truly so incautious? 

Maddie rolled her eyes. "Listen, neither of you will know what to do at first, and it's fine to just...figure it out on your own.  Without him."

Iduna felt her entire face heat up, and took a long sip of wine to cover her discomfort. She invited her friends here for a fun evening, perhaps telling stories of days gone past -  The Lutefisk Incident, the velocipede fiasco, the time they all got locked out of the boarding house while it was snowing, Greet’s shoe polish prank on Henrik. She did not want to talk about her wifely duties with her friends, especially as it was becoming increasingly clear they didn't know anything more than she did. Couldn’t they just try on veils and practice walking in the shoes they had to wear tomorrow?

"Move your hands a lot, they love that," Greet took a pillow and imitated an amorous embrace, kissing noises and all. 

Maddie grabbed the pillow and hit her with it. "Tell him what you want him to do." 

Greet rubbed her head, pouting at Maddie. "And moan, it makes them think they're doing a good job.  You have to be at least a little encouraging. And listen for his moans, to figure out what he likes."

Iduna thought of their stolen moments in the library and how she already had a pretty good idea of what Agnarr liked, and flushed more deeply at the thought.

"He's the king but he'll want you to boss him around."

"But address him as Your Majesty. Give a curtsy before you start." Maddie laughed as the said it, imitating a curtsy from her position on the bed.

"Do you think he'll wear his crown?!" Greet screamed.

Maddie and Greet collapsed into laughter, and Iduna got off the bed, pulling her robe around her. "I'm going to the kitchen to get more chocolate, and when I get back we are not talking about this again. Ever."  Their laughter followed her as she made her way down the dimly lit corridor and towards the welcoming warmth of the kitchens.  

When she arrived, she found Agnarr there, sitting on the table she used to prepare plants and herbs for tinctures and teas.

***

Ready to Succumb

 He was holding a loaf of bread and an apple, looking at them with a bewildered expression, and didn’t notice her walking into the room.

“Agnarr! What are you doing down here?” She reached out a hand to touch his arm, but felt suddenly shy and made an awkward wave instead.

Agnarr looked up, saw her, and answered with a bashful smile. “I told Henrik and Elias I would get us some food, but really I needed some time away from them.”

Iduna lifted herself onto the table and sat next to him, thigh pressed against thigh, her arm against his. It felt too close, so she moved a breadth away. She took the apple out of his hand, set it down next to her, and held his hand, wanting some measure of closeness.

“I needed some time away from Maddie and Greet too.”  Talking to him was helping the awkwardness she felt leave, like rinsing dirt from her hands after time in the garden.  She tried to drive Maddie and Greet’s words from her head so they wouldn’t infringe upon this moment. She laid her head on his shoulder. “I know they mean well, but I did not want to hear their advice.”

“Oh? What were they counseling you about?” Agnarr set down the load of bread, and reached up to stroke her face.  It was easier sitting next to her than facing her.  He could still hear Henrik’s words in his head, making his face heat up in an uncomfortable way, and he didn’t want her to see the discomfort on his face.

Iduna gave a small laugh. “They were trying to tell me how to handle our marital relations.” As soon as she said it, she felt shy again. What if he was bothered by her talking to their friends about it?

Agnarr sighed and put his hand back in his lap. It was too difficult to touch her face and admit what Henrik had been saying to him. “Henrik was offering some unhelpful – and unsolicited – advice on the topic as well. I can not emphasize how unsolicited, just in case you hear any crazy stories from the staff.”

They sat in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say next, each wanting to assure the other that everything would be fine, that tomorrow’s wedding and wedding night would be wonderful, but both feeling too nervous about it to make such a declaration.

Agnarr tried to lighten the mood with a joke. “At least we no longer have the royal tradition of a bedding ceremony. In my great-grandfather’s day, at least six men had to witness the groom taking his wife to bed.” Iduna squeezed his hand and laughed, a small terrified squeak. “We just have to settle for our friends interfering beforehand. They’ll leave us alone tomorrow night.”

Iduna continuing holding his hand in silence and the air around them seem to calm. The longer they held hands, the easier it was to sit there, alone, and forget that there were others in the castle. No wedding guests, no well-intentioned friends, no foreign dignitaries and diplomats.  It was just the two of them, a new family as of tomorrow, and a pair of friends since they had been fourteen.

Iduna pulled her head off of his shoulder so she could see him, suddenly needed to see his eyes, suddenly braver and calm. “I think we’ll be just fine tomorrow. I know I’m eager to know you fully and to share one more thing with you.”

Agnarr again cupped her cheek and said “And I as well.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently, lips against lips, and he could feel her smile into it. He broke away. “Remember our first kiss? How I knocked you in the head?”

She laughed and rubbed the spot, a phantom memory that was more pleasing than painful.

“We might have more awkward moments like that, tomorrow and even beyond.  But Sunny, there is no one I would rather share all of my moments with than you.”  He leaned forward to kiss her again, and he felt her smile, the sun, her warmth.  It was a good thing tomorrow was only hours away.

[ksfd89]

Happy Father’s Day

A Father’s Day oneshot written a few months late! Literati oneshot which turned out much longer than I imagined!

"Daddy!"

Jess groans as a toddler weight thumps onto his chest. "Hey, Charlotte. You're up bright and early, huh?"

Rory's laughter as is cut short as her daughter notices her and, leaning forward, bellows, "Mommy!"

"Wow, hi," Rory says, ears ringing from Charlotte's greeting. "And this is without coffee. You sure you're my daughter?"

Charlotte frowns at her and Rory chuckles, giving her a cuddle. "Good morning, angel."

"I bet it's all the coffee you drank when you were pregnant," Jess remarks. "Hardwired in her genes."

"You say it like it's a bad thing," Rory retorts, pulling herself up onto her elbows. "Speaking of coffee, I need some."

"Really?" Jess says in mock-surprise. "I guess I should go put a pot on, right?"

"Make it a vat," Rory says seriously. Jess laughs and laughs again as Charlotte yells, "Breakfast!"

"Such a one-track mind," Jess says, kissing Charlotte's cheek. "Wonder where you get it from."

Charlotte response is to yell, "Breakfast!" again. Jess carries Charlotte into the kitchen and Rory forces herself to sit up, groaning. It's a Saturday morning and she was hoping to lie in. Charlotte had a hard time getting to sleep last night so Rory had hoped, rather fruitlessly, that her daughter would wake up a little later. Charlotte is two years old with curly brown hair and big blue eyes. She is already insatiable with curiosity, pulling books of the shelves in the apartment Rory and Jess share. The fact that she can't read doesn't seem to stop Charlotte. Jess boasts that she's a bookworm already.

Rory quickly checks her phone before getting up. There's nothing new on there apart from a reminder to take Charlotte into town. Father's Day is tomorrow and Rory has a gift to collect. Putting the phone back on the bedside table, Rory gets up with a yawn and pads into the kitchen where Charlotte is perched on the counter, giggling at Jess making French toast.

"Careful on there, missy," Rory says as Charlotte stretches out for the food and Jess says, "Hey, she's fine, I'm watching her. Coffee's coming right up too."

"Juice!" Charlotte shouts and Jess nods, sounding weary as he says, "And your juice. Very important order, I know, kiddo."

"I'll get it," Rory says, going to the fridge. "And it's juice please, Charlotte."

"JUICE PEES!"" Charlotte shouts and Jess starts laughing. Rory tries to keep a straight face but can't help giggling.

"Here you go," she says, pouring orange juice into a brightly coloured cup and handing it to Charlotte who drinks it in one gulp. Jess turns the toast over in the pan, whistling under his breath and Rory kisses his shoulder, making him smile. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, Rory sips it and gradually wakes up, a content happiness flowing through her. She's lived in Philadelphia for two years now and worked at the local paper for almost the same amount of time. Jess is still at Truncheon and Charlotte divides her time either at home with Rory, where she mostly writes her articles, the newspaper office or the bookstore with Jess. After new books are unpacked Charlotte gets to play with the empty boxes. One day Jess pretended not to know where she was, lifting the box with her inside and saying where's my girl gone? Charlotte had giggled so hard it was difficult to act surprised when she stuck her head out. Rory still can't believe her tiny baby is a little girl now, almost out of diapers and holding conversation. Granted, most of her topics centre on bellowing nursery rhymes or demanding juice, but still. Charlotte turned two a few weeks ago. Rory had thought she wanted those milestones but had wept when they occurred. She doesn't even want to think about Charlotte starting Kindergarten.

Sliding toast onto plates, Jess carries breakfast over to the table and slips his hands under Charlotte's armpits. She lets out a indignant squawk but is happy once she's at the table, tucking into toast and getting a good deal of food in her hair. Rory wrinkles her nose in a sigh.

"She'll need a bath," she whispers to Jess, already dreading it. Charlotte can't stand bathtime. Rory was already feeling tired at the trip to the store, but shakes her head as Jess offers, "You sure you don't want me to come to the store?"

"I told you it's for a surprise!"

"Right, right," Jess says, smiling into his cup of coffee. "I can't imagine what it's for."

"No more questions, Dodger."

Jess lifts his hands up and turns to Charlotte. "Do you know what this is about?"

"Hey, no questioning the kid!"

"I think your secret's safe," Jess says, wincing as Charlotte shouts, "JUICE! JUICE PEES!" into his ear. "Okay, okay. One more cup of juice and then it's bathtime."

"NOOO!"

Charlotte continues to scream all through her bath and Jess wipes a haggard hand across his brow. "I thought girls were supposed to like showers."

"A bath is a whole different vibe," Rory teases, pouring water over Charlotte's back. "We're almost done, sweetie."

"Thanks," Jess jokes, sticking his tongue out and Rory laughs.

"You've got soap on your face."

"It's a new look I'm trying. See Charlotte, it's not so bad!"

Charlotte continues to cry until after she's dry and dressed in a blue dress. She sucks her thumb, glaring at her parents who try not to laugh.

"Come on cutie," Rory says. "Let's have some girltime!"

Girltime doesn't seem to thrill Charlotte. She grumbles in her carseat, on the edge of a tantrum which threatens to break when they reach the store. Keeping a firm grip on her hand Rory starts to lead her inside, already regretting not choosing online delivery. Charlotte pulls at her mother's hand, stamping her feet and Rory takes a deep breath, stopping and bending down.

"We have to pick up Daddy's gift," she says evenly. "Then we can do something fun, okay? Come on."

"NO!" Charlotte screams, spittle spattering her mother's face. Rory closes her eyes, trying to compose herself, and they snap open as a man's voice says, "Rory?"

"Logan?" Rory says in disbelief. This can't be happening. Logan lives in London. He is an ocean away. He last saw Charlotte six months ago when he came over for Christmas and Rory hasn't heard any hint of a visit. Slowly, she straightens up, holding tightly onto Charlotte's hand. Logan smiles at her.

"Hey, Ace."

"What are you doing here?" Rory asks faintly. Logan is dressed in a smart white shirt and black pants and he says, "Flew out to New York for some work yesterday. I was going to call but I thought I'd surprise you."

"Surprise me," Rory echoes faintly. She seems to have lost power of thought and Logan adds, "I was going to call today, I mean. Not just show up - I didn't know you'd be in town today."

"We're getting a Father's Day gift," Rory says and then inwardly winces. Logan looks a little surprised but simply nods. Rory bends down, lifting Charlotte up and Logan breaks into a smile.

"Hey Charlotte. Remember me?"

Charlotte doesn't. She buries her face in Rory's shoulder and Rory says gently, "It's okay, honey," and to Logan, "It's been a long time since she saw you. For her, I mean."

"I know," Logan says quietly. "Hey, you want to get some coffee?"

Rory bites her lip but nods. Somewhat in shock, she follows Logan into a cafe and makes an excuse to use the bathroom. Carrying Charlotte inside, Rory stares at herself in the mirror and tries to steady herself. She looks a total mess. There are splatters of juice and crumbs on her shirt from the snack Charlotte had before they left and, of course, the spit from her daughter screaming as Logan approached. Impeccable timing. Rory washes her face, Charlotte watching curiously, and quickly calls Jess.

"Hey," he says fondly. "How's girltime going?"

"Not so great," Rory says honestly. "Logan showed up."

There's a pause and then Jess says, "What?"

"He's here, he's just here," Rory babbles. "He's working in New York and he's here and wants to have coffee. What do I do?"

"I don't know, Rory. Do you want to have coffee with him?"

"No - but I'm curious to talk to him, I guess."

"Then maybe you should have coffee."

"I'm nervous, I don't know - this feels so weird."

"It is weird," Jess says honestly. "But he's just that rich guy with a porsche. You don't need to feel nervous."

Rory smiles at that. "I'll see you later, okay? I love you."

"I love you too. Kiss Charlotte for me."

"I will." Rory hangs up, kissing Charlotte's cheek and taking her back into the cafe. Logan is sitting in a corner and Rory tries to smile as she goes over.

"Hey," she says again and Logan says, "I went ahead and ordered coffee for you."

"Oh - thanks." Rory feels mildly affronted, though she can't place why, and Logan asks, "I'm guessing she's still too young for coffee, right?" and nods at Charlotte. Rory laughs, settling Charlotte onto the chair next to her and says, "Yup. Maybe a few more years."

"She's two," Logan says in wonder. "How can she be two?"

"I don't know," Rory says quietly. It only seems like yesterday that Charlotte was born, that Rory found out she was pregnant, yet that time she shared with Logan feels like a different life. Rory can't believe that was just a few years ago in reality. Her daughter stares up at them and Logan remarks, "She looks just like you."

"She does," Rory says fondly. She doesn't add that Charlotte looks nothing like Logan. With her wild curls, people often assume Jess is her biological father. In every other way he is her father. He held Rory's hand when she gave birth, loved Charlotte as fiercely as if she had always been his. Really, Rory thinks, she has been. Jess loved Charlotte as soon as Rory told him she was pregnant. The waitress comes over with their drinks and Logan says, "I wasn't sure if Charlotte would want anything."

"She'll have a cup of juice," Rory says and is tired as Charlotte shouts, "JUICE PEES!"

"Yes, sweets," Rory says, stroking her hair. "You're having some juice."

Logan chuckles and asks, "So how was her birthday?"

"Good. Big."

It had been a Stars Hollow extravaganza. Lorelai had turned the house into an explosion of pink streamers and fairy lights and the cake was almost as big as Charlotte herself. Charlotte idea of eating cake was to bury her whole face in it and Rory was finding buttercream in her hair for a good two days afterwards.

"Did you get my gift?" Logan asks and Rory nods. Logan had sent over a rocking horse several sizes too big and when Rory lifted Charlotte onto it she'd screamed in terror. Lorelai commented that Charlotte got Rory's knack for horseriding, but had shut up when Rory reminded her the pony she'd ridden had died. Rory sips her coffee and says delicately, "She's a little small for it," when Logan asks if she liked her present.

"Oh," he says, shoulders sagging and Rory feels bad.

"Hey, she's only two. Still refining her taste."

"I got her this," Logan says, delving into his pocket and emerges with a small bracelet. It's beautiful but all Rory can think is that it's a complete choking hazard. Logan lifts it to the light and says, "See, Charlotte? That's for you!"

Charlotte stares at him and Logan asks, "Can I hold her?"

"Okay," Rory says after hesitating. She takes the bracelet and passes Charlotte over to Logan. He holds her awkwardly but his expression is gentle.

"Hey, Charlotte. I missed you."

Charlotte starts whimpering, reaching for Rory and Logan says, "Hey, it's okay. It's me."

Charlotte starts howling in earnest and just as Rory gets up to take her back the waitress comes over with the juice.

"JUICE PEES!"

Charlotte seems to mean this in the literal sense. Rory picks her up and Charlotte wets herself. Pee trickles down onto the floor, leaking from her diaper onto Rory and Logan's arms, and Logan can't hide his expression of revulsion.

"I'm sorry," Rory says. "She's not there with potty training yet and..."

"Right," Logan says, wiping at himself with a napkin. "No big deal."

He tries to smile and Rory is sure he's remembering the time Charlotte got puke and poop on him as a baby.

"Sorry," Rory says awkwardly and Logan says, "It's fine. Guess it was dumb, seeing you here like this. Charlotte can't even remember me."

"She's so little," Rory says and Logan's voice fades as he says, "But I'm her - forget it."

"Logan. You live an entire country away. Sending her gifts and showing up at Christmas isn't being a father."

"I know. I just - I'm sorry it turned out like this."

Rory doesn't know what to say. She isn't sorry things turned out this way, not for her and Jess at least. But she is sorry Logan doesn't seem to care more.  He loves Charlotte but is hesitant over fatherhood.

"I hope she likes the bracelet. Maybe someday I'll know her better," he says and Rory nods.

"Maybe. I'd better get her changed."

"Juice pees!" Charlotte says again and, as Rory and Logan look at her, she takes one sip of juice before pouring the rest over her head. Logan smiles but makes a hasty retreat. Dazed, Rory focuses on cleaning Charlotte as best she can before taking her home and, it's only when Charlotte is screaming in her second bath of the day that Rory remembers she forgot to pick up the gift.

Rory cries a little in the shower herself and is still upset when she tells Jess about it.

"It was so awkward," she sniffles. "And sort of sad, and I forgot to pick up your gift."

"I'll get it."

"You can't - it's your gift."

"Rory, it's no big deal."

"Yes it is. And Charlotte peed on Logan and -"

"She what?" Jess asks, starting to laugh and Rory smiles. It is kind of funny now she thinks about it. Logan had looked so startled.

"Charlotte had an accident and dumped juice over her head."

"Big day, huh, kid?" Jess asks. Charlotte is playing with some bricks and breaks into giggles as Jess picks her up. "Daddy!" she shouts happily and Rory laughs out loud.

"I'm going to go get your gift."

Rory drives to the store without mishap and, when she gets back, Jess has already made dinner. After eating Rory wraps his gift, shooing Jess out of the room and gets up early the next morning to retrieve it. Charlotte is already awake and squeals happily at the sight of her mother.

"Come on, angel," Rory says. She picks up the gift, gives it to Charlotte and plops her onto the bed. Jess opens his eyes just as she shouts, "DADDY!"

"That's Charlotte's way of saying Happy Father's Day," Rory tells him and Jess creases his eyes with laughter.

"Thank you," he says, kissing her and opens his gift. It's a photobook of him, Rory and Charlotte and Jess's voice is a little misty as he repeats, "Thank you. It's perfect."

"Thank you for being her dad," Rory says seriously and Jess pulls her to him.

"I'm the luckiest guy alive."

Rory kisses him and then, to her bemusement, Jess gets out of bed and picks up Charlotte.

"Wait right there."

"Okay," Rory says, confused. "What's going on?"

"Just wait!"

Jess disappears and re-emerges with a book tied in ribbon.

"What's this?" Rory demands, taking it. "I don't get gifts today!"

"Yes you do. Just open it."

"Okay," Rory says quizzically. She unties the ribbon to see a copy of Howl and, as she opens it, a ring falls out. Rory's mouth hangs open and Jess says, "Rory, will you marry me? I've known you since I was seventeen and I knew it then."

It's not just any copy of Howl. It's Rory's copy, with Jess's notes in the margins and Rory traces her fingers over them.

"You knew we'd wind up here?" Rory asks, her voice catching on a sob, and Jess says firmly, "I knew I wanted to be with you - love you. I didn't know I'd wind up raising a daughter with you but I wouldn't have it any other way. I love Charlotte, I love our family. I love our life. And I love you so much, Rory."

"Marry Daddy!" Charlotte shouts. "Marry Daddy!"

"I taught her to say that but I don't think she knows what it means," Jess admits and Rory starts laughing.

"It doesn't matter," she says, pulling Jess into her arms. "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you. I love you, Jess Mariano."

"I love you too, Rory Gilmore."

They kiss and kiss, laughing as they break apart and finally Rory turns to Charlotte.

"I'm marrying Daddy," she tells her. "What do you think about that?"

Charlotte unpops her thumb from her mouth and says happily, "JUICE PEES!"

[letstalksymphogear]

Symphogear, EP. 5 (Cont.)

Tsubasa ruminates about her current situation in her Symphogear Brand Safety Capsule of Absolute Dunces.

“aight ive done seen the light lemme at that sweet, sweet taco bell”

Meanwhile, some old ass politicians rumble about Relics.

“im old.”

But they immediately get fucked up in a nasty car accident.

As it turns out, the Americans were waiting to intercept these old crones to steal The Goods.

And holy fuck are they are American. Personally, I feel the writers of Symphogear watched Die Hard and immediately went “these people are fucking animals”. That’s just me, though.

“ooh ouch oh mmm ouchie ouch oooo ouch”

They tear into these people with an almost machine like efficiency.

These people don’t fuck around. There’s a strange surreality around it given that this is honestly pretty accurate to how brutal special operatives can be, but the Japanese accent they have in their English voices is... a bit jarring.

“IM BACK FROM THE MALL, YA’LL”

“oh god she’s back”

“ah, ryoko. as per your lingo, quote, ‘i like your new gucci boots... bitch’ was that good? im not fond at cursing at women unless its a mutual training session”

Genjuro alerts that the Minister of Defense for Japan has just been assassinated.

“shits bad”

Conveniently... Ryoko’s phone was broken. In her defense, it’s 2012. Battery life didn’t have the bragging rights it had now for phone.

“i personally use a razer flip phone. those will never go out of style!”

Ryoko manages to show them the box the Americans were trying to get. Suspiciously...

There’s a bloodstain on it.

So the main struggle right now is that the Bad Guys(tm) want to get their hands on Durandal, which is a completed relic that is hidden away miles underneath the school in the 2nd Division Labs.

This musty, old, shitty sword has immense power. Almost Godlike.

“hey why dont we just use the sword to beat up the bad guys”

The sword was handed from the EU to Japan for Japan to safekeep, and in exchange to forgive some of the loans the EU owed Japan should the EU economy collapse.

How topical.

“i read a lot of beserk and honestly im pretty sure someone beats up the bad guys with that dumb sword”

“listen nerd, we’re not doing that dumb weeb anime shit. we’re taking this sword to a vault to the bottom of parliament.”

“thats right. who needs anime when you’ve got nicholas cage.”

And so, they plotted to deliver this dumb sword tomorrow.

Ryoko logs into Runescape.

Fun fact: Fulcanelli is a reference to this dude, who was a French alchemist whose identity nobody really knows. Alchemy is a concept that will come up during GX that has no relevance whatsoever during these first 2 seasons except in some passerby jargon. This as just a cute thing I wanted to point out.

You know, that’s a pretty sexy sword upon closer examination.

“thats the dark souls of swords”

“ah! a fellow gamer! im glad that you too partake of the souls of darkening. would you like to play a two player match somtime, fellow Gamer?”

“I would genuinely rather eat shit for the rest of my life!”

The scene ends. Alright, where are n-

Oh God we’re back to this bullshit. Okay then.

Miku, reasonably, is upset that her wife is gone for several hours for increasingly sketchy reasons. Much like an estranged wife going to see her “tennis instructor” for “private tennis lessons” in the “safety of their house, which has a tennis court”, Miku is worried that Hibiki is a liar liar, pants on fire.

Nose the size of a wire.

Hibiki, feeling the fear of God, quickly bails this increasingly tense situation.

Miku is suffering, and so am I with this hamfisted writing.

“you didnt even try the cookies i made out of frustration for you. i designed them all after me with increasingly angrier faces”

“im too young for a divorce. fuck, those cookies smelled good”

Hibiki decides to not sweat it anymore, opening a magazine and WHOA WHAT THE FUCK

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS I DONT REMEMBER THIS WHEN DID HIBIKI GET HER HANDS ON THIS OH MY GOD

“HELL NO IM MARRIED THE DEVIL CANNOT TEMPT ME”

Hibiki closes it up to reveal the relevant part of this magazine.

This is subtle, but it’s basically a vehicle to explain how things are covered up for Symphogears. Ogawa walks in, talking about how this headline was his doing.

“i wasn’t joking when i said we were literally the NSA”

Hibiki is happy that Tsubasa has been freed from Metaphor Limbo, having escaped the Water Metaphor Dimension back into real life.

“she literally wont stop talking about taco bell and honestly its killing me inside”

“shit ill get her some”

Ogawa does some schpiel about teamwork and asks Hibiki for an idea on what to do with Tsubasas image even though he’s supposed to be the manager and it’s just general prattle.

Everyone gets briefed about the delivery. Ryoko’s soccer mom van sticks out like a sore thumb. Nobody on the Lydian campus asks why there are 5 cars outside the building with men in suits and fucking Hibiki standing there with them why are these children so fucking incurious.

“this feels like the world’s most important weed delivery, but im going to deliver the SHIT out of that weed”

“hibiki please its not weed”

“ALRIGHT FAM LETS DELIVER THE SHIT OUT OF THIS WEED”

Big thick black cars surround Ryoko’s tiny vehicle as they all drive in unison to the drop point.

No fucking around here. The weed must be delivered.

The weed? Secured as shit.

“its not fucking weed it’s a goddamned french sword okay god”

“ROAD’S LOOKIN’ A-OKAY FOR OUR WEEEED DRIIIIIIVE”

PSYCHE, NO IT AINT. ROAD’S CRACKING UP HARD. COMES APART, CAR FUCKING EXPLODES!

“oh my god we seriously arent fucking around here those guys are fucking dead”

“bruh you never delivered weed before? that shit happens all the time”

“anyway grab on to something ‘cause we’re gonna initial d this shit”

“i thought we were delivering WEED not SUSHI”

“WEED... SUSHI... IT’S ALL FUCKING METAPHORS, HIBIKI. AND WE’RE GONNA DELIVER EM!”

“now ORDER UP, MOTHERFUCKER”

Every car is destroyed.

Ryoko flips the car like nobody’s business.

“ryoko! the kansai drift was too strong!”

“your delivery’s late, pal. that’s gonna have to come out of your tip.”

“jokes on you! you already paid the tip beforehand online!”

“oh, we’re going with pizza jokes now? is that what we’re doing? yeah, sure, whatever”

Unfortunately, Chris ordered her pizza with meat, extra crispy.

“FUCK, i cant see anything. now i don’t know if they have the weed- i mean, the sushi- er, the pizza- god i hate all these JOKES”

RYOKO SUMMONS A FUCKING SHIELD OUTTA NOWHERE WHILE HIBIKI’S KNOCKED OUT COLD

“yo hol’ up a moment did this pervert manage to summon a shield”

“are- are you able to fight the noise? are you fucking kidding me? this entire time when literal children were fighting these battles, you literally could have fought back effectively? are we but mere playthings to you? is this really the bullshit im seeing?”

“uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i can only make shields. piss shields, out of piss”

“that is absolute fucking bullshit”

“but i believe it.”

Hibiki has primed her fists and is about to show how much she’s improved combat wise, which is actually a lot.

Nevermind, she tripped again. Turns out, Symphogears fight in heels constantly, which is absolutely fucking horrifying. Hibiki realizes this, and then

FUCKING BREAKS THE HEELS LIKE NOBODY’S BUSINESS.

AND THEN SHE WRECKS SHOP WITHOUT BREAKING A GODDAMN SWEAT

“oh shit how the fuck did she improve this quickly”

The suitcase where the sword is stored opens up. That means it’s activating.

Immediate fear.

“alright bruce lee you mightve mastered a thousand kicks but you better change your gameplan because im about to realign that pretty little face of yours”

“thank god you kicked me. needed you to get closer so i could kick your ass, after all”

The fucking suitcase, I shit you not, pops open immediately with the sword flipping to the sky like a bad Gmod toy as it suddenly stays floating, perfectly still.

“ive officially lost track on what the hell is happening”

The sword just floats there, as a sword does.

“you know how many fried turkeys i can cut open with that bad boy? that shits mine now.”

Chris goes to get it.

“fuck you! im going to slice HONEYBAKED HAMS with that sword!”

Hibiki intercepts it and takes the sword.

Now Hibiki becomes a proud Stand owner, having acquired the power of The World and stopping time at will.

“oooooh holy shit”

Hibiki, now channeling the power of Durandal, feels the raw strength of a completed relic all through her body.

Real spicy stuff running through her veins.

The power unleashing itself into a raw stream of piss skyrocketing into the stratosphere.

“the pizza has been delivered... all according to plan...”

“...she was right. honeybaked ham was the superior meat to slice...”

Hibiki is channeling a power source so ancient, so powerful, that through using her as a conduit, the sword actually finishes itself into its full, completed form.

Holy shit, Hibiki.

Goddamn. That’s a really sexy sword, actually! Pretty nice...

...oh.

You’re not looking so hot, pal...

“why is it that every opponent of mine can literally asspull all this garbage and im stuck here looking like a bad kamen rider villian getting my ass kicked every time. its not fair.”

Ryoko looks extremely hyped for this event. Maybe a little too much so.

“MAN FUCK THIS NONSENSE IM PUTTING AN END TO THE SUPER SENTAI POWERUP”

“O-OH FUCK- uh, i didnt say that. totally swear. you uh, keep doing that. yeah. aha.”

“SLICED...”

“...HONEYBAKED...”

“oh god. oh god. im sorry. im sorry. im so sorry. oh fuck im so sorry. honeybaked ham is better. fuck turkeys. fuck drumlegs. fuck any sort of fried meat. honeybaked ham is better please im begging you dont vore me or slice me in half IM BEGGING YOU OH GOD”

“...HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!”

“ham..... mmmmm... honeybaked ham....”

“WHO YELLED ABOUT HAM? god, im hungry now.”

Hibiki wakes up from it all after passing out, expressing a power of magnitudes unheard of, as if it were all a bad dream.

“YEAH THATS RIGHT WE HAD TO DELIVER THE WEED PIZZA AND I WANTED HAM AND- THE SWORD, YEAH! THE SWORD!”

To her disappointment, amongst this wanton destruction, no ham was found. Ryoko clues her in that Hibiki just single handedly completed a relic, and though the entire place is a mess, the mission wasn’t a complete failure. They’ll just have to return the relic back to base, now the entire location is, conveniently, destroyed.

“yeah yeah. the weed made it. the sushi made it. the pizza made it. what didnt we deliver today?”

“...”

“singing really does make you hungry, huh?”

[imagine-loki]

If I could Turn Back Time, I’d Still Choose This

TITLE:  If I could Turn Back Time, I’d Still Choose This CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 25 AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that when Odin found Loki on Jotunheim, he did not take him to raise as his son, as Frigga was pregnant at the time, instead he was given to a normal Aesir family. Years later, Loki meets Odin’s daughter Sigyn, and trouble ensues.

NOTES: Dafydd is the Welsh for David and is pronounced Daa-vid as opposed to Day-vid. 

Loki rubbed his eyes and yawned. He felt as though he would never sleep a full night again.

‘Get some sleep darling, I will look after…’

‘No, they are my sons, I will look after them, you have raised your child already.’ He insisted.

‘I am aware of that, but you need some sleep.’ His mother insisted.

‘How do mothers do this?’

‘They have no choice. Well, most do not.’ There was a slight bitterness in her tone.

‘Mother, I know I say this often, but please, you were not there with Sigyn, she never wanted this, I know it.’

‘She is not here though, is she?’

‘Do you think after the last time he gave her free rein and she rushed off realm that she would be allowed risk doing so again? No, he has her forced not to be allowed near us, I know it.’

Loki’s mother looked at him sadly. His use of the word “us” telling her that even after six months, Loki was still completely in love with the woman. ‘They only wake once at night now, allow me to take them tonight, that way you can assist your father tomorrow, I heard him say he has work you can assist do.’

Loki nodded, knowing that as well as juggling the two boys, he had to assist his father. The jewelry that Sigyn had given them on their fleeing had assisted them, it was true, to the extent they were still living on it and were able to acquire two of everything required for the babies, but he needed to get his name known if they were to make it more viable for them to build on the business. 'Sure.’ He watched as she took Narfi into his parents' room. In his arms, Vali gurgled and looked up at him. His purple eyes, a mixture of Jotunn red and his mother’s blue, focused on him and he smiled. Loki felt tears in his eyes as he looked at his young son, both of exhaustion and heartache as he saw Sigyn’s smile in his features.

‘Loki?’ He turned to look at his father. ‘Son?’

‘They look like her.’

‘I can only see you.’

‘She’s there.’ he brought Vali up closer to his face and kissed his forehead.

‘Get some sleep, son.’ Tomás took Vali from him and left the room.

‘Is he settled?’

‘He’s still awake, but he is fed.’ Tomás informed his wife.

‘I was talking about Loki.’

‘He is still focused on her.’

‘She gave her children away, abandoned them.’

‘I spoke with the Allfather, at length, I do not think that girl gave them willingly.’

‘Well, they are here now.’ His wife looked adoringly at her grandchildren. ‘I just don’t know how she could do it. Is it because they are different?’

‘I do not think the Princess gave them willingly.’ Tomás repeated.

‘How is Loki supposed to find someone to love if he is still focused on her?’

‘I don’t know.’ Was all Tomás could respond with.

*

Loki rubbed the sweat from his brow and continued to work, he tried to keep his tunic on, but it was impossible. The forge was smaller than the one in Asgard, so he was forced closer the fire, something that he now realised was a notable reason for his dislike of. He realised soon enough that there were young elvish women that seemed to smile a lot at him, often they cooed over his clearly mixed heritage sons, but he could not look at them, all he saw when he closed his eyes was Sigyn.

Loki worked tirelessly assisting his father with the work that was now accumulating for them with more and more elves seeing their work. The two men worked to fill orders, so much so, Tomás had to talk to his son about considering taking on an apprentice.

‘Father, I…’

‘I’ll train him, you continue as you are doing. Considering your reason for not being fond of heat, this would mean we would have someone to assist me with that and allow you do your workmanship.’ Tomás explained. Loki could not fault his reasoning. ‘It also means you can help your mother more with the boys. You can work when they are napping and be a father to them.’ Loki nodded, having voiced his concern as to how little time he had spent with Narfi and Vali. ‘So….will we?’

‘How can I say no?’ Loki chuckled.

That is how they came to take on a young elf by the name of Dafydd. He was strong and well-built, allowing him to be a great aid in helping Loki move around heavy loads his father was no longer able to assist with. He also had a keen eye, which aided greatly with their work. Dafydd could tell from the day he met the twins of their heritage, their markings, peculiar eyes and skin tone saying everything of their parentage, but as with all elves, he had never seen issue with the Jotnar, they were allied with them, and according to him, there were indeed a few Light Elf-Jotnar mixed children on realm.

In many ways, speaking with Dafydd assisted Loki in settling in himself. He was another young man, not much younger than Loki, and he was able to tell Loki a lot of the realm. Tomás encouraged the friendship, seeing it as a manner for Loki to get rid of some of his stresses and to have someone his own age to confide in. He also encouraged him to join Dafydd to an inn for an evening sometime, insisting that he needed to remember he was still just a young man under it all.

At first, Loki was reluctant, citing the twins and his workload as reasons to not do so, but after a time, his parents' persistent badgering caused him to give in, if just once so that he would not have to do so again.

The experience itself was pleasant, the inn was not overcrowded, yet lively enough to allow the two men interact with others. Dafydd, as all younger men did, used it as a means to scope out potential suitors, Loki had no such interest. It was there that Dafydd’s curiosity got the better of him.

‘So you are not interested in anyone?’

‘No.’ Loki answered simply, taking another drink of his ale.

‘I gotta ask….’ Loki knew before Dafydd ever said anything the topic, if not the particular question, the elf would go for. ‘Do you ever plan to have another wife?’

Loki contemplated the question for a moment. It was clear that his father had given Dafydd a story regarding Sigyn that involved her no longer being part of his or the twin’s lives. ‘No.’

‘But you have what, another four thousand years or so, surely you could change your mind in that time?’

‘You never loved a woman, have you?’ Loki smiled to show he was not ridiculing the young man. Dafydd shook his head. ‘I cannot give my heart again. She...To do so feels wrong.’ He explained.

‘You still love her?’

‘With all of my being.’

‘I am sorry.’ Dafydd looked at his drink in guilt.

‘It’s natural to be curious.’ Loki dismissed.

Not long after, two young elves, about the same age as the two men came over, smiling playfully at them. ‘You’re the Aesir blacksmith, aren’t you?’ The older asked.

‘I am.’ Loki confirmed politely.

‘So, is there a mother for those cute little boys of yours?’

‘Well, they did not get delivered by the Valkyries.’ Dafydd jested. Loki gave a small huff of a laugh as the women giggled, taking that as their cue to join the men.

Loki assisted Dafydd in getting their attention, but he did not want to further any interest in himself. After another two drinks, the younger woman was clearly interested in Dafydd, asking him about his apprenticeship and other such things while he politely tried to make clear to the older that he was not seeking a partner. She seemed disappointed but polite about it, so he excused himself and went to the restrooms. Inside, he inhaled deeply and thought of Eliza. She was pretty, for an elf, but she was not Sigyn. Trying to fight with himself regarding the matter, he splashed water on his face before leaving again, adamant that he would make his excuses and go home. When he got back to the table, he gave a polite smile and made a comment regarding having to get back to Narfi and Vali, which was met with pleas to remain, as well as disappointed looks, but with a promise to see Dafydd in the morning, he bade farewell and left.

He decided to walk back to the forge slowly. He was not in the mood to go home and stare at the ceiling to try and fall asleep. He sauntered, weaving the smaller roadways to make the small journey before coming to the town square and deciding to rest for a minute with his thoughts.

The square was void of life at that hour, dark but for four lights which made the four corners of it, and in the centre, a monument to Fjorg the Brave, the king of the Elves who assisted The Allfather and King of Asgard Bor against the Dark Elves millennia before. He looked at the statue and thought of what he had learnt of the war growing up, which then led to him thinking again of Sigyn.

He had worried more than once since the twins were born as to her wellbeing. He feared so often of the concern that she had not been able to birth them without complication. Eir had said her seidr was integral for their safe delivery, had her father given her it back for the task at hand? Had she passed because of it? He fished for information, but as on Asgard, the female child of Odin was of little interest, she did not warrant caring about. Then he felt himself getting angered, she had not tried to find them, she had not asked after their sons, fought to get to them, had Odin’s words been the truth? Did she honestly not care for her children as she claimed she had, or him...he bit the inside of his cheeks as he thought of their amorous nights, of their bodies intertwined as they watched their children grow in her, preparing for their birth. Had she only wanted someone to sate a hunger in her, were her words of affection merely lies to ensnare his affections, he could not prevent the cruel thoughts he so desperately did not want to think, yet they festered.

‘So, he’s not interested?’

‘No, according to Dafydd, he is still mourning his wife.’

Loki could hear Eliza speaking with another elf. He said nothing and listened.

‘I heard he took those babies and fled with them, that she is looking for them.’ The other elf gossiped.

‘I heard she dumped them when they looked like a that, not all Frost Giant.’

‘They are weird looking. I saw his mother with them. There is no telling what is in them.’ Loki felt anger and bile rise in his throat.

‘I think they are adorable.’ Eliza defended. ‘They are so cute.’

‘Would you want that, to play “Mommy”?’

‘No, not really. But he is gorgeous and clearly, he knows what to do.’

Loki felt as though he had been struck with a blow to the gut. He rose from his seat and glared at the pair causing them to look at him. The friend looked fearful, Eliza had the decency to look ashamed. Loki, for his part, gave them a scathing look and turned and walked away. He made it to the forge before the tears started to fall, not long after, the strong facade he put on for the sake of his family fell, and he slid down the wall of the building, to the ground, sobbing.

‘Loki?’ He barely heard his father coming over to him. ‘Son?’ Seeing how distraught he was, Tomás got him into the forge and placed his near the still warm fire. ‘Son, talk to me.’

‘She...’

Tomás said nothing more, knowing what was upsetting his son, but not knowing how to deal with it. Instead, he sat beside him and embraced him as he son dealt with the heartache for the woman he clearly loved.

Loki said nothing of his anguished actions after they occurred, but there was no denying there was a significant decrease in his amicable moods. Tomás asked Dafydd what occurred on their evening out, but according to the younger elf, nothing of note, Loki left them early and went home, citing the twins as an excuse.

Tomás wanted to delve further into the issue, but was called away to deal with a horse, he ordered Dafydd to tidy and see if he could get Loki to speak to him, but Loki said little to the elf other than to ask him to pass him something.

Dafydd, all but badgered Loki to speak to him, asking him who he thought would win a local election, what he thought of things and finally, he decided to mention their night out, which had occurred a week previous at this point. That was met with little enthusiasm, when he mentioned Eliza, that was met with hostility.

‘Well, let us see, after you and Charlene clearly went your own way, I was unfortunate enough to meet Eliza again with another friend, only they did not know I was there, I was privy to their thoughts on me, one of which was that I stole my sons from their mother, that was particularly hurtful, that and them being called peculiar looking, that angered me the most, for the obvious reasons, but Eliza and her interest, though she did say she found me appealing to look at, which no creature can ever see something to fault in that, was solely interested in my company for a bed partner, my sons being proof that I knew how things functioned if nothing else, how do you think that makes me feel? Elated? Lucky?’

‘I am sorry, Loki.’

‘Sorry. Well, sorry does not make it hurt less since you did not say it to begin with.’ Loki growled.

‘You really still love her, their mother.’

‘Of course, I do. You don’t understand, none of you do.’

‘I do.’ The pair looked towards the door, not realising they were no longer alone. ‘Hello, Duckie, how about you and I have a little chat and you introduce me to those beautiful little boys of yours.’

[latetothegreysparty]

Enough Part 6

Hello, friends! I’m sorry this chapter took more time to write than I anticipated. It’s also pretty long. If you’d like to read/reread the earlier chapters, they can be found here: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5. Enjoy!

Enough Part 6

When Amelia got home, she poured herself into making the necessary preparations for the baby so that she wouldn’t have to think about her conversation with Owen. The first thing she did was research cribs and changing tables online and order one of each to be delivered the next day. She figured that would be easier than going out and buying those items and having to figure out a way to get them back to her apartment. Once she had purchased those bigger items, she decided to wait and see what April brought and what she suggested before beginning to buy the smaller stuff. The next thing she did was fill out and scan the forms Bailey had emailed for requesting family leave. Amelia was working on planning out where all the new furniture would go when she heard a knock at her door.

Amelia’s eyes went wide when she opened the door. Anybody who had passed April in the hallway probably thought she was moving in. She had bags and bags of items as well as multiple larger items such as a car seat, a bassinet, and a playpen. April noticed Amelia’s surprise and smiled. “I know this is a lot of stuff. You don’t have to take it all if you don’t want it. Feel free to send anything back home with me if you’d like.”

“No, no, no!” Amelia responded quickly. “This is so nice of you to bring all of this stuff over. I am happy to take anything you’ve got. I was just surprised you brought so much with you is all. Oh, and I’m probably going to need an explanation of what all of this is and how it works.” As she spoke, she began to pick up some bags and other items and carry them into her apartment. April followed suit and carried the car seat into the apartment behind Amelia. “Do you have some time to explain this all to me? Unless you have Harriet tonight. I don’t want to keep you from your child. If you need to go, I totally understand.”

April shook her head. “No, I have time to stay.”

They finished bringing in all of the items, and then Amelia got each of them a glass of water before they sat down together on the couch. “So where should we start our adventure into the world of all things baby?” Amelia asked.

April paused, looking at Amelia for a moment before answering. “You know, I think most of this stuff is actually pretty self-explanatory. You’ll figure it out as you go. And if there’s anything you need help with, you can ask me along the way as it comes up so that you don’t have to try to remember a bunch of information I overload you with tonight.” April waited a beat before continuing on with her thoughts. “But I did want to ask you how you’re doing. I didn’t really get to ask you earlier. Then I saw Owen, and when I mentioned the baby he had kind of a big reaction. Then it occured to me that if Owen was reacting that way, you must really have a lot of emotions.”

Amelia laughed humorlessly. Owen was the last person she wanted to think about at the moment. “Owen’s reaction was probably due in large part to the fact that I hadn’t told him yet.”

April’s eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth which had involuntarily fallen open. “Amelia, I am so sorry! I had no idea! I should have asked. It really wasn’t right of me to say that without making sure you’d told him. Really, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” said Amelia. “This is my fault. I should’ve let you know that I hadn’t really told people about this yet. Of course you would assume that I’d told Owen if I was telling you.”

“But still, I shouldn’t be so flippant when talking about such an important topic,” April argued. “I hope I didn’t cause a problem between you and Owen.”

“I’d rather not talk about Owen right now,” said Amelia.

April felt a pang of guilt as she realized that there probably had been some drama between Owen and Amelia as a result of her comment to Owen, but she decided to respect Amelia’s wishes and steer the conversation in another direction. “This is a difficult topic for me,” Amelia said. “I think I’ve told you before that the last time I was pregnant, the father of the baby was dead by the time I found out I was pregnant. What I didn’t tell you is that the last time I was pregnant, my baby was anecephalic. I ended up giving birth to a child who had no brain and died 43 minutes after he was born. Ever since then, the topic of babies has been a sore subject for me. To tell you the truth, I don’t know why I agreed to become a foster parent to this baby. One day I went to the NICU on a whim and met him, and I guess one thing led to another, and now I’m getting ready to take him home and care for him until somebody else can. I have no idea what I’m doing. The whole way through this process, I kept thinking that I wasn’t making any commitments and I could always decide later that I wasn’t ready after all, but then all of a sudden I looked up and I was accepting a placement. So now my living room is full of baby toys and some company is coming to deliver a crib tomorrow and I have no idea how to do any of this.”

April smiled sympathetically. “Nobody ever has any idea how to do it,” she said. “No matter how many babies you’ve been around before, you can’t possibly understand what it’s like to care for your own until you actually do it.”

“I guess that’s true, but most people have a lot more time to prepare themselves,” Amelia argued. “It’s only been a little over a week since this idea first popped into my head, and I’ll probably have this kid in my apartment within the next few days.”

“It actually might be helpful that this is happening fast,” April reasoned. “You’ll have less time to freak out and second guess yourself. That’s probably for the better. He’ll be here soon, and then you won’t be worrying and waiting anymore. It’s probably better to jump into it without giving yourself a bunch of time to worry about never having done this before.”

Amelia nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose you’re right.” She stared blankly at the wall, eyes vacant, as her mind began to wander.

April pulled her from her wandering thoughts before she could get very far. “Amelia?” she called softly. “Is there something else on your mind?”

“Just, um, just thinking about my little boy, you know?” Amelia said with a watery smile, and April knew from experience that she wasn’t talking about the little boy she was about to bring home from the hospital and care for.

“Yeah, I know,” April whispered. “I know that there will be moments when you look at that sweet little baby that you’re about to bring home and all you can think about will be the little one who you should’ve brought home but didn’t.” A few tears started to slide down Amelia’s cheeks. April sighed. “Amelia, I know that this probably isn’t what you want to hear right now, but I think you should talk to Owen. I don’t know what happened between the two of you this afternoon.” Amelia opened her mouth to speak, but April kept talking. “And I’m not going to ask you. That’s between the two of you. What I do know is that you two are very close. I know you’ve helped each other through a lot of crap. I know that the next few weeks are about to be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever experienced and the hardest thing you’ve ever experienced. You’re going to need someone in your corner. I’ll be here for you. Of course I will. But I think you could really use the person who you’ve trusted with your issues for the last few years.”

Amelia looked away from April as she wiped her tears. At this moment, she desperately wanted to be alone so that she could let out all of the emotions that had been building for the last several hours. “I’m getting tired, I think I should call it a night,” Amelia said softly.

April took the unsubtle cue and stood up. She walked to the door and opened it, but turned back to Amelia before stepping through it. “If you need anything, please call. Even if you just want to talk. I know I can’t understand exactly how you’re feeling, but I can do my best. Seriously, call any time.”

“Thanks,” Amelia said, doing her best to offer April a small smile.

“And please just think about what I said,” April added. “I know something happened between the two of you today, but he really would want to be there for you. I know it. Just talk to him.”

“Good night, April,” Amelia said, pointedly avoiding responding to April’s comments.

April sighed as she accepted that she wasn’t going to get any further on that subject tonight. “Good night,” she said before stepping out of Amelia’s apartment and pulling the door shut behind her.

The first thing Amelia did after waking up in the morning was go to the hospital to visit the baby. She knew the crib and changing table were scheduled to be delivered sometime in the afternoon, and she wanted to go see him before she had to be home to wait for the delivery. When she arrived in the NICU, a smiling Nia greeted her. “Good morning, Amelia. Here to see your little man?”

Amelia smiled back. “Yes please,” she said as she started toward the nursery door.

Nia continued to chat as the pair filed into the nursery. “The trauma surgeon came back last night,” she said.

Amelia froze. “What was he doing here?”

Nia didn’t seem to notice Amelia’s discomfort and continued to chat nonchalantly. “He said he had a patient who had been pregnant and had gotten an emergency C-section. He came down to check on the baby so he could tell his patient how her daughter was doing. Then he saw that our little guy was still here and asked what he was still doing here and if he could hold him. I told him about the foster care, and he asked if it was you who was taking him home. Do you guys not talk much?”

Amelia busied herself with fussing over the baby so she wouldn’t have to make eye contact as she responded. “Oh, um, no, we talk. I’ve just been a little busy lately.”

Nia chuckled lightly. “I can’t imagine why.”

Amelia forced a laugh, hoping Nia wouldn’t press her for more details about Owen if she kept up the appearance of a light atmosphere. “I’m sure you can’t. I’m sure you have no idea what it’s like to be busy either. Speaking of which, I’m sure you have a lot to do right now. Do you mind if I rock this little guy in the rocking chair for a few minutes while you take care of business.”

“Not at all, give him some extra snuggles for me.” With one final smile, Nia walked out of the room, leaving Amelia to take the baby boy to the rocking chair for a bit of bonding.

Amelia smiled as she looked down at the little boy in her arms. He was awake, but he seemed content. He wasn’t squirming, and he wasn’t making much noise, save for the occasional coo. “So Miss Linda tells me that I’m allowed to choose a name to call you. Well, at least until we find you your permanent home. Then your parents will get to name you for real. But in the meantime, we’ve got to call you something, don’t we? I was thinking Theodore. What do you think of that? It’s a nice strong name. And it’s got lots of nicknames. Ted, Theo, Teddy. Do you like that? Are you my little teddy bear? You’re certainly every bit as cuddly as a teddy bear.”

The little boy stared up at her, his pale blue eyes peering up at the face that had started to become familiar. Amelia laughed softly as she stared back at him. “Well, you’re not screaming or spitting up on me, so I’ll take that as approval.” She turned her eyes up to gaze at the wall across the room. “You’ll have to forgive me for the next few weeks. I’m sure there will be some bumps along the way. This is the first time I’m doing this, so I’ll probably make a lot of mistakes. But I’m hoping we can learn how to do this together. Maybe we can both try to be patient with one another and figure this whole family thing out together. What do you think?” She turned to glance down at him, and she found that his eyes were now closed. He cooed as he moved slightly against her chest, trying to find a comfortable position in which to rest. “Did I catch you at nap time?” she whispered. He shifted once more before stilling. “I’m sure I’ll learn your schedule soon. Why don’t I rock you a bit and see if we can get you to sleep?”

Just as she had said, Amelia began to rock softly in the chair. She remained silent as she allowed her mind to wander. She thought of how surreal it would be to be doing this in her own home. And then she thought of the fact that she hadn’t ordered a rocking chair. Shoot. She hoped Teddy would be fine without one for a few days while she ordered one and waited for it to arrive. She hadn’t even brought him home yet and she’d already discovered her first mistake. She could feel her heart begin to beat a bit faster as she worried herself over her failure to purchase a rocking chair along with the crib and changing table. She absentmindedly bent forward and sniffed at the infant’s head. She involuntarily smiled at the soft baby scent that filled her nostrils. When she glanced down, she found that he had already dozed off. He seemed to be a good little sleeper. Amelia found herself smiling softly again as she stood up and carried the little boy back to his crib. She spoke quietly as she settled him back in. “You are just too precious, you know that? Sleep well, little man. I’ll try to do a little better tomorrow.” With that, she turned and walked out of the room, taking care not to make too much noise that would wake Teddy or any of the other sleeping infants.

The rest of Amelia’s day was a blur of activity. She had stopped on her way home and picked up some odds and ends for the baby. She’d gotten several cases of diapers in the size that Nia had told her he currently wore. She’d stocked up on formula, baby wipes, diaper cream, and baby powder. And then, because she couldn’t help herself, she’d purchased a little onesie with bears on it. After coming back at her apartment and eating lunch, the delivery truck driver had arrived with the crib and changing table. She’d spent the rest of her afternoon and evening picking out and ordering a rocking chair to be delivered in the next few days and organizing all of her newly-acquired baby supplies. She went to bed exhausted, but content. She’d be ready to bring Teddy home very soon.

The first thing Amelia did when she woke up the next morning was call Linda. Unsurprisingly, she got Linda’s voicemail. Amelia figured Linda probably had quite a few cases, so she hadn’t expected her to pick up. “Hi Linda,” she said into her phone as she paced back and forth in her kitchen. “It’s Amelia Shepherd. I’ve gotten most of the supplies I’ll need for the baby and submitted my paperwork to the hospital to take family leave. I think I’ll be ready to bring him home soon. Please give me a call when you can so we can discuss a pick up date. Thanks.”

She hung up the phone and let out a heavy sigh. That was it. She’d just asked to bring him home. This was really happening. She could feel her heart rate begin to quicken. She immediately returned to her bedroom to go grab her iPad and look through the emails she’d gotten in the last 24 hours. She needed something to pull her mind away from how unprepared she felt to care for an infant on her own.

She had replied to all but three of the emails that had accumulated in her inbox when her phone rang. “Dr. Shepherd,” she answered absentmindedly as she clicked on another one of her unread emails.

“Hello, Amelia, this is Linda James returning your call from this morning,” came the voice from the other end of the phone.

Amelia immediately set down her iPad, not even bothering to lock the screen. “Hello, Linda, thanks for returning my call,” she said.

“My pleasure,” Linda responded. “So you said that you are ready to bring home the baby, is that correct?”

“Yes,” Amelia confirmed. “Do you have a date in mind for when that could happen?”

“I’m free this evening,” Linda said. Amelia nearly dropped the phone. “Would you be able to meet me around five o’clock in the hospital so we can finalize everything and send him home with you.”

“Uh, sure,” Amelia said slowly. Her mind was still catching up. When she called to schedule a time to take Teddy home from the hospital, she hadn’t imagined that she’d be bringing him home today. Like everything else in this process, this step had unfolded far faster than she’d imagined.

“Great, I’ll see you at five in the NICU then?” Linda asked.

“Yes, I’ll see you then. Thank you.” Amelia hung up the phone and walked into the room she’d set up as the nursery. She stared at the oak crib. In a matter of hours, a tiny little person would be sleeping on that bed. It all seemed so surreal. Before her mind could drift too far, though, she noticed something: the mattress in the crib was bare. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t washed the sheets for the crib yet. She almost laughed. In her rush to get everything together, she had almost brought the infant home to a nursery with no sheets on the mattress. She began to dig through the chest of drawers in the corner of the room to find the sheets so that she could set to work laundering them.

The afternoon passed in a flurry of activity. She cooked dinner and put it in the fridge, knowing she’d be too preoccupied with Teddy to cook after she brought him home. She washed his sheets, vacuumed the nursery, and cleaned just about everything she could think of. This must be what people meant when they talked about nesting. After much scrubbing and dusting, she looked at the clock and noticed it was after four o’clock. She needed to start getting ready to head over to the hospital so that she’d be on time. Within fifteen minutes, she was heading out the door.

When Amelia arrived at the hospital this time, she didn’t make any attempt to evade the curious eyes of her coworkers. She headed straight for the NICU, mind solely focused on the little boy who would be coming home with her soon. In her right hand, she carried a bassinet that could be converted into a car seat or a stroller. The thought had briefly crossed her mind that it probably looked odd to be lugging around an empty baby carrier. As she pondered what she’d say to any curious person who asked where the baby was, she found that she had arrived in the NICU. To her surprise, Linda was already waiting for her. “You’re early,” Amelia stammered. Yet again, things were happening faster than she’d thought they would.

“You’re early too,” Linda teased gently. Amelia smiled softly, but said nothing in response. Linda took this as her cue to get down to business. She pulled out a few sheets of paper and a pen. “Here are the forms I need you to sign, once you’ve done that, we can go into the nursery, pick him up, and arrange to have him released.” Amelia set the bassinet off to the side and then quickly signed the paperwork and handed it back to Linda. “Alright, are you ready to go get him?” she asked.

Internally, Amelia was saying, “I have no idea if I’m ready,” but externally she merely smiled and nodded. She followed Linda into the nursery and across the room to the crib that she had visited many times.

Linda carefully lifted the baby from the crib. “Would you like to hold him while we go ask to have him discharged?” she asked.

“Sure,” Amelia replied softly, taking the small bundle from Linda. Her eyes widened as she looked down at the little boy in her arms. This time, she wouldn’t be placing him back into his crib in the NICU. Instead, she’d be buckling him into the bassinet she’d left in the hall and carrying him out to her car. She smiled softly at the baby as she stroked a gentle hand over his head and followed Linda out of the nursery.

“Have you decided what you’ll call him?” Linda asked.

“I’m thinking Theodore,” said Amelia. “It’s a nice strong name with lots of possibilities for nicknames. I’m thinking of calling him Teddy for now.”

Linda looked back at Amelia over her shoulder and smiled. “I think Teddy suits him.” By this point, they had arrived at the nurses’ station. Linda turned to speak to the nurse sitting behind the desk. “My name is Linda James, and I work the the Washington State Department of Social and Health Services. I would like to see about getting a patient discharged into the care of his foster mother.” Amelia’s heart clenched at the descriptor. Foster mother. That’s what she was. She was Teddy’s mother now. Granted, it was only until they could find a more permanent foster home or an adoptive home, but she was his primary caregiver for the time being.

She looked up to see that a neonatologist had come out with discharge papers. Within a few moments, Teddy had been discharged and signed over into her care. Now she was buckling the tiny boy into his bassinet and preparing to carry him out to her car. “Alright, I think you’re all set to go!” Linda said with a bright smile. “Please call me if you need anything, anything at all. I’m always happy to help. Otherwise, I’ll be getting in touch sometime about the home visit.”

Amelia nodded as she picked up the bassinet. “Thank you for all of your help through this process. I don’t know how I would’ve figured it out without your guidance.”

“It was my pleasure,” said Linda. “And thank you for joining the foster care program. It takes a special person to open her home and her heart to a child in need.” Amelia thanked her softly for the compliment. “Well if you’re all set to go, then I think I’ll be heading out,” said Linda. “Seriously, please call me if anything comes up. I’m always here for you and little Teddy.”

Amelia thanked her once more and watched as Linda walked away. She glanced down into the bassinet at the infant who was staring back up at her with wide blue eyes. “Well, what do you think little man?” she asked. “Is it time to go home?” The baby continued to stare back, and she laughed softly. “I think I’ll take that as a yes.” With that, she made her way out of the hospital and into the parking lot.

Amelia smiled down at the baby as she opened the back door of the car. “Let’s get you buckled in,” she whispered as she leaned into the car. As she looked from the bassinet to the back seat of her car, she frowned. It was just now occurring to her that she didn’t exactly know what she needed to do to convert the bassinet to its car seat form and strap it into the car. And, of course, she’d left the instruction manual that April had given her at home. “Okay, well it can’t be that difficult, can it?” she asked, forcing a smile as she began to fiddle with the bassinet.

After about 10 minutes of fumbling around, it became clear to her that she wasn’t going to be able to figure it out on her own. She’d probably need to call April and ask for help. Immediately, she recalled the way she’d forgotten to purchase a rocking chair and how she’d forgotten to launder the sheets and put them on the mattress until this afternoon. It was only her first day with the baby, and already her mistakes were piling up. She stepped away from the open car door and turned to face the rest of the parking lot. She could feel a few tears pricking her eyes. She was in over her head. That much was obvious.

Amelia could hear Teddy’s soft whines as he became restless, but she couldn’t bring herself to go back and comfort him yet. She needed a moment to deal with how overwhelmed she felt. She backed up until her back was pressed against the side of the car and closed her eyes, breathing in deeply through her nose and out through her mouth. This had all been a mistake. She had gotten attached to a patient who she had met by happenstance, and now she was standing here alone in a parking lot with a child who she was now responsible for, a child who was dependent upon her. She couldn’t even figure out how to get him settled in his car seat. This was all spiraling out of control.

As she rubbed her temples and continued to take slow deep breaths, she heard a voice coming from her left. “Amelia?” Owen called. “What are you doing?” As Owen got closer, he could hear the soft cries of an infant coming from the car. “Is the baby in your car?”

Amelia sighed as she opened her eyes and turned to face Owen. “Yes, he’s sitting in his bassinet on the floor of the car because I can’t figure out how to convert it to a car seat and buckle it in.”

Owen walked to the open car door and reached in. Within a few seconds, he had Teddy in his arms and was turning to face Amelia. “Here, can you hold him for a second?” he asked.

Amelia looked puzzled as she came over to stand next to Owen. “What are you doing?” she asked.

Owen didn’t respond to her question. He merely said: “Please, just take the baby,” as he held Teddy out toward her. By this point, Teddy’s whining had turned into crying. Still confused by Owen’s directions, Amelia instinctively reached out to hold and comfort the crying infant. As soon as she had Teddy cuddled to her chest, Owen turned back toward the car door and began to mess with the bassinet. Amelia didn’t pay much attention to what he was doing as her attention was focused mostly on settling the upset little boy in her arms. Less than a minute later, Owen turned back to her and said: “Give him to me, please.”

Instead of handing Teddy to Owen, Amelia turned to peer into the open car door. To her surprise, the bassinet had been successfully converted in a rear-facing car seat and strapped into the driver’s side chair in the backseat. “How did you figure that out so quickly?” she asked.

As Owen began to speak, he took Teddy from her arms and set to work buckling him into the car seat. “I was with April the first time she tried to use this thing with Harriet. She had a meltdown far more spectacular than yours when she couldn’t get it converted. It took me quite a bit of messing around, but I eventually figured it out. We practiced it several times in the parking lot just to make sure she had it down, so I remembered how it worked.” Owen turned back to face her, his arms now empty. “He’s buckled in now, so you should be good to go.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, at a loss for what else she could say. She was still angry about their conversation in the supply closet, but seeing the way he had stepped up to help her without question, even when they had just had a massive argument gave her pause. She had thought all of the yelling and accusations had come from a place of entitlement, but now she was questioning that. He was speaking in clipped sentences, avoiding eye contact, acting just a little bit uncomfortable, but still trying to assist her. It was becoming a bit more clear now. He was hurt. He wasn’t angry that she hadn’t told him because he felt entitled to be the first to know; he was hurt that she had struggled with a major life decision without telling him. A pang of guilt flooded through her at the thought. She was still mad at him for some of the things he’d said, but she figured they could work that out.

Her thoughts were interrupted by his voice. “See you later,” he said as he turned and began to walk off.

“Owen, wait!” she called after him. He stopped and turned back to face her, but made no move to walk back toward her. “I talked to Nia in the NICU today. You know, the really sweet nurse who’s always there? Anyway, I talked to Nia and she said you came back to see Teddy today.” A look of confusion settled on Owen’s face. “Teddy, the baby who is currently in my car,” she explained. “Nia told me earlier that you had done some kangaroo care for Teddy right after he was born, and she said that you came back to see him again today. I thought maybe you’d like to spend some time with him. Would you like to come over? We could hang out with Teddy and talk a little bit. Or we could not talk. We don’t have to talk yet if you don’t want to.”

The hopeful look on Amelia’s face at the end of her rambling saddened Owen. He could tell that this was her attempt at extending an olive branch. As much as he wanted to accept it and see if they could patch up their friendship again, this wasn’t the right way and he knew it. “Amelia, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He didn’t miss the hurt and puzzled look on her face. “What do you mean?” she asked.

He sighed. “This whole situation is complicated for me. I don’t think we should get into it right now. You’re just taking home a baby.”

“Owen, what are you talking about? What’s complicated?” she asked.

He shook his head. “We can talk about it later. I think you should get your foster son home now.” And with that, he turned and walked away, ignoring the questions she continued to call out to his retreating form.

Amelia continued to watch him walk away for a few more moments, still trying to process what had happened. Just when she’d thought she understood the issues between the two of them, she found herself confused all over again. Before she could spend too much time pondering what had just transpired between her and Owen, her attention was drawn to Teddy’s whimpers. She pasted on a smile as she turned back to the car door that was still open. “Sorry, little man, I’m sure you probably want to go home now,” she said while softly stroking his cheek. She leaned into the car to press a kiss to his forehead before shutting the car door and climbing into the driver’s seat. As much as she wanted to figure out what had gone wrong in her attempt to figure things out with Owen, she couldn’t spend too much time worrying about that right now. She had a newborn in the backseat who needed to be taken home and fed.

[real-fakedoors]

under leaves so green - CHPT 9 - Miraculous Ladybug

After the Dupain-Cheng family purchases a flower shop around the block from the Agreste mansion, Chat Noir frequents the spot in search of company from the manager-but-not-really Marinette. Beneath the mask, Adrien starts to struggle with how cute she looks in that green apron. (AKA: the not-really flower shop AU where basically everything is the same, but Marinette is extra stressed by her job and Adrien tries to be supportive)

Crossposted on AO3 and FF.net

Chapter 9: The Hummingbird Flower

In which, Adrien and Marinette are both very excited for their date, and Chat Noir decides he can't wait until tomorrow to see her.

We apologize: your regularly scheduled Marichat programming has been interrupted by a surprise guest appearance.

Marinette had never enjoyed her work so completely.

Sure, it was hard and laborious as ever, but she could practically feel the happiness seeping into her pores with the light of the sun. Every breath came easy, every customer seemed pleasant, each order was seamless, and all of her plants smiled brightly back at her. Her brash Banks’ roses were a magnet of attention, lustrous rubies beneath a cloudless sky. Subtly even seemed a quiet grace in the form of her painter’s paradise of hydrangeas or by her terracotta beheld boxwoods. Within, Marinette’s heart was a hummingbird, and the greenhouse seeped with the lush overgrowth of peaceful fullness.

It felt like she had forgotten how to frown.

Her phone had been buzzing all day, and Adrien’s name was a frequent one that came across the screen. In fairness, he hadn’t been the one to text her originally; their group text was blowing up with Alya’s planning, only to be derailed almost immediately by Nino and Adrien. As it happened, Marinette didn’t a bit. Heck, her phone could fall into a bag of topsoil and be crushed by the delivery truck, and she was certain her mood still would not be hampered.

With respect to the conversation, Marinette wasn’t able to contribute much. She was constantly busy with the demands of her job, but she appreciated that her friends didn’t fault her for her radio silence. It was simple and nice, to peek at the screen occasionally when a customer headed out the door or between restocking the shelves. Alya had been the one to initiate the four-way chat today by sending a picture of the Louve from the street - why she was around that part of town, Marinette hadn’t a clue - and pushing the La Nuit des musées idea onto all of them, but since then the conversation had degraded to mostly dumb humor and well-meaning goading between the boys.

Alya was by no means absent, though. She and Nino poked plenty of fun at the both of them for their date plans tomorrow night. Adrien had been quick to try to shut it down (for what he said was Marinette’s sake, to not make her feel uncomfortable) but they were persistent. Still, through dodging plentiful innuendos and frequent sarcasm, Marinette thought Adrien seemed rather excited to talk about it.

Proud, even.

That thought sent her running towards the back with rose-tinted cheeks more times than she was willing to admit.

The reporter-to-be eventually looped them back to a proper topic, about spending that Saturday night at the La Nuit des musées. It was an annual event in Paris that only happened one night of the year where all of the big museums remained open from dusk ‘til dawn. There was a modest upfront charge for a wristband that allowed unlimited access to all of the participating venues. Any of the Paris museums worth their salt were included on the list, so it would have felt foolish if she were to not go: the Louvre, Musée d'Orsay, the Centre Pompidou, the Arts and Metiers Museum, the Decorative Arts Museum, and the Palais de la Découverte were all possibilities.

Marinette was excited by the prospect of attending, although that would be with a post-date Adrien... so the possibilities for what that night might turn into was like dividing by zero. At least until Tuesday passed, Marinette could whip between gooseflesh and stomach cramps at the possibilities for Saturday night quicker than she could sew a seam.

Between watering planters and wrapping bouquets, Marinette noticed an uncharacteristically serious text from Adrien directed towards a tag-team of Alya and Nino insisting he give them a firm answer on La Nuit.

Adrien (1:56 PM):

Um, idk if I can. I want to, but Nathalie says there’s something on my schedule I don’t think I can get out of.

And now that it was on her mind, she did recall Adrien saying he wasn’t going to be available on Saturday. It explained why he kept getting off-topic, probably trying to avoid disappointing everyone. Marinette couldn’t blame him for that, even if she was saddened to think on it. She would probably still attend if Alya and Nino wanted to, since it was a one-night-opportunity, but she would definitely skip out on the reception and deal with the minor annoyance of third-wheeling.

After another thirty minutes, Marinette ate her lunch in the back office while going over her next purchase order. Tikki played the part of sympathetic audience.

“Ugh, these prices… How’s a girl supposed to eat?” She said, taking an entirely ironic bit from the lunch Maman had prepared for her. It was some sort of curried potatoes and rice creation.

Tikki frowned and settled into her shoulder, nibbling on her favorite variety of macron.

“Well, at least the need to order plenty means you’re doing good business, right?”

Marinette sighed and retrieved the “company” checkbook (it was just her parents, linked to the business account with their bank) and wrote out a figure with so many 0’s she actually had to double-check to make sure she hadn’t made an error.

“Yeah, I suppose… Maybe it’s a seasonal thing, but all of this?” Marinette pointed down at the catalog, finger tracing plastic planters and floral wire. “It’s annoying that they would inflate the price of necessities because they know we need them.”

Tikki giggled and adjusted her weight on Marinette’s shoulder. “Maybe Hawkmoth akumatized the factory workers. If there’s no flowers left in the city, what will draw ladybugs to Paris?”

The girl shook her head and chuckled. “Why didn’t I see it before? The answer was so obvious, Tikki!”

They shared a laugh and Marinette took another bite of her food, sealing the envelope and writing down the purchasing figure in the books. Hopefully this was the just the height of seasonal pricing, because they were barely breaking even with these sort of margins.

Just as she finished her food and took a long drink from a water bottle, the bell at the front chimed. Marinette could only check the messages on her phone and couldn’t get much utility from the device otherwise during business hours, so she opted to leave it with Tikki who could pass the time watching videos.

Marinette wiped her hands quickly on her apron and walked through the front of the store. A young gentleman, well-dressed and a few years her senior, had walked in looking very nervous. He eyed an assortment of bouquets wearily, and Marinette had to suppress the urge to laugh.

Mo would get a kick out of this.

If a man came to the store alone, Mo had warned her of three things.

“When M&M is at its end, when I go, you’ll need to be wary on your own! ...Yes, Marinette, I just rhymed, you can stop laughing now. I am but a poet who doesn’t even know it!”

Even in present day, Marinette rolled her eyes. Typical Mo.

“Young men - and nay, even some young women - will need your help with these purchases. They know nothing of the language of flowers, and they’ll be so blindsided by romance they won’t have the forethought to study up before coming to the store. If they are not purchasing for an apology or a date, then they may have a lustful eye for the unsuspecting female clerk, working the store alone. Don’t be afraid to use those muscles of yours to kick some sense into them, if you have to.”

Mo said he had an eye for that type, which Marinette frankly found to be a little ridiculous, but he would always insist on “helping” those clients so they might not make some sort of unwanted advance on her. It was actually very sweet how protective the old man had been, but she usually though he had a tendency for the dramatic.

Grinning, the bluenette strode across the counter and called his attention. “Bonjour. Can I help you?”

His face was conventionally handsome, a strong jaw with some dark five o’clock shadow that made him look a bit more mature. Glasses and brown eyes, darting and anxious, looked up at Marinette’s greeting.

“Oh, bonjour, Mlle. Um... actually, yeah, if you don’t mind. I’m not sure...” The customer turned his attention back towards the wide variety of bouquets Marinette had prepared, and she felt a little smug at having just finished restocking. It was a bit impressive to look at, especially for someone like this.

Marinette nodded and placed a hand at her hip, joining his study of the display. “Rather you did something wrong, or you’re aiming for a date. Right?”

There was a pause, and the man laughed in relief. “Wow, you’re good. Yeah, I… I’m trying to ‘impress’ someone.”

Marinette nodded, tapping her chin and keeping her eyes forward. That narrowed the possible list of appropriate bouquets, although it depended on what type of impression he was hoping to make.

“Well, if it’s a date,” Marinette mused, taking a step towards a cacophony of crimson, scarlet and ruby red buds that were easy to admire. “You might consider something classic. Roses are popular, of course, but…”

She gestured to another, softer and slightly fuller arrangement. “If you want something a little different, Hummingbird flowers are always a reliable, pretty pick.”

Marinette brushed the star shaped petals of the palest pink with her fingers, a delicate bunch accented by Baby’s Breath and White Diamond Limonium.

Roses were cheap to grow and they could sell them at a high mark-up, just by way of the demand. Fiscally, it probably would have made better sense to stick to upselling the former recommendation, but Marinette just will herself to make a sale based off money alone. There was soul within each stem, and some blossoms simply needed additional advertisement for people to appreciate their personalities.

“Hummingbirds?” The man croaked, and Marinette just nodded patiently.

“No, Hummingbird flowers. They’re technically called bouvardia. They’re simple, reall-- ”

The bell at the door interrupted her, so she quickly called a greeting before continuing.

“Bonjour! Just a moment, please! Sorry, but yes - bouvardia are really simple to care for, and they will keep for weeks. Just pop them in any vase and change the water every few days. They’re supposed to represent enthusiasm, and they have a…”

Her voice fizzled out, because a ringing in her ears didn’t stop. The bell was going off continuously, and it had picked up a rhythm.

Marinette turned to face the door, having caught a child playing with the bell to elicit such a sound before, but it turned out the chime was coming from someone much less predictable than a child.

“C-Chat Noir! Bonjour,” Marinette bowed her head, surprised to see him, and the customer turned with wide eyes.

Clasping his hands together, the young man bounced on his toes. “Wow! I-it’s… you! I’m a huge fan!”

The black cat, always one for a show, performed a theatrical bow while his tail swished around the middle aisle. “Ah, it’s always a pleasure to meet a fan! And in the most charming spot in all of Paris, no less.”

The gentleman beside Marinette practically floated over to Chat, and he vigorously took the heroes hand and shook. “I hate to ask - I’m sure you get this all the time, but could I get a selfie with you? My boyfriend wouldn’t believe me if I didn’t show him a photo!”

“Of course,” Chat accepted the man’s phone and they leaned in for a picture. “I actually happen to photograph rather well.”

Just after they snapped the shot, Chat caught Marinette’s eye, and the smug blond had the nerve to wink. Out of reflex, her head fell back on her shoulders, and she had to keep herself from hissing at him in annoyance.

“Yes, hello, Chat Noir. If you’re here for a purchase, I’d be happy to help you once I’m finished with this gentleman.”

“W-What?” The man clutched his phone to his chest, hugging the device like it was a lifeline. “No, please! Chat Noir, you go first. My thing isn’t important, it can wait!”

Chat Noir shook his head and smiled. As he opened his mouth to speak, however, the bell to the door rang again and Marinette thought seriously about throwing her hands up and quitting.

She fixed her face into a smile, certain that it was not convincing, and faced the door. “Bonjo-- …?”

There was no one there. Had the person stepped in and left immediately? It… had had happened before, though it struck her as odd.

Whatever the case, she could not complain. Chat’s presence alone certain to bring a tide of business crashing down Courtier St., so she needed to wrap things up.

Marinette stepped firmly towards the center of the store and gestured to young man who had begun texting furiously into his phone. “I’m sorry, sir, but I insist. Chat Noir is a hero of Paris, but in this store, he’s also a customer. You were here first, and I’ll assist him once we’ve made a choice for you.”

Behind the young man’s glasses, he blinked repeatedly and looked between the hero and Marinette like she had just started speaking Yiddish. It wasn’t until Chat nodded him to go that she was able to finish the sale, and thankfully, it had been quick thereafter. He seemed so starstruck that Marinette didn’t even have the chance to finish her explanation of Hummingbird flowers before he hastily accepted and passed her a shiny credit card.

“Wow, who would’ve thought? I’m here for flowers and bam! Chat Noir. This is such an amazing day!” He whispered across the counter to Marinette, who just smiled politely and passed him his receipt and requested a signature.

It really shouldn’t have struck her as a a surprise, as Chat Noir came frequently, but Marinette had gotten used to seeing him in the evening after the past week. Him coming here during the day while she drowned in work seemed comparatively frustrating, but Marinette kept her voice kind all the way until the man left the store (only after he stopped to shake Chat Noir’s hand two more times, of course).

Even so, Marinette had nothing but positivity to offer today, grinning at the alley cat who had folded his hands neatly behind his back.

“Hi, Marinette.” Chat said once they were alone, and she raised a brow at him. The cat must’ve hit his head or was actively hiding something, because the look he was giving her was filled with unusual admiration.

“Hello, minou,” Marinette smiled as she returned to the counter. Chat respectfully remained on the other side, though he did walk rather close behind her.

Sticking her tongue out, Marinette broke through his intense stare when they both laughed. “What brings you by today?”

“Ah, right meow? I was simply in the neighborhood and thought you might want some company of the kitten variety.” He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows, and Marinette just slapped a palm into her face.

With a good-humored sigh, she picked up some papers and began to make a few notes. “I’m so flattered, Chat, you have no idea. How could I ever thank you?”

“Oh I’ve got a few ideas, Puur-incess. Especially now that I know you sneak boys into your room.” His voice was riddled with suggestiveness, but it was clearly sarcastic. Marinette just shook her head and giggled.

Chat seemed to notice her exuberance and commented, “Well, isn’t your cat-titude just meow-valous today? Even my puns seem ineffective!”

Marinette just exhaled brightly and met his gaze. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I happen to be in a very great mood.”

“Oh? Do tell!” The black-suited hero leaned his elbows on the counter, coming closer in interest.

Her face flushed, but she did not look away. “Well, that friend I was telling you about… They came back, and…”

She stopped mid-sentence, interrupted yet again by the ever-present bell that called her attention, and Chat straightened when she glanced over his shoulder.

There was no one there.

“Again?” Marinette pursed her lips in annoyance, walking around the counter and coming to the door.

Chat stayed a pace behind her, watching her examination of the doorknob. “Is something wrong?”

“I think there’s something broken… with the… um…”

Marinette’s voice trailed off, but not, for once, due to lack of the right words or a sputtering confidence. Instead, her attention had been caught by some unusual activity beyond the glass walls. Instead of a typical flow of passing couples, groups of friends, or parents and their children, the predictable midday ambiance of Paris had been unsettled.

“Something’s happening,” Marinette whispered, voice suddenly urgent. Chat scowled and moved right up to the window, standing so close she could feel the smooth exterior of his suit as he looked into the road.

Indeed, people were no longer passing along peacefully, a steady tide of leisure down the sidewalks. No, the current had picked up, and a wind was blowing ever East, loud and panicked. People were screaming, and running, and clutching their loved ones.

Chat clenched his jaw. “An akuma.”

Marinette tried for a playful smirk. “I suppose it was inevitable, wasn’t it?”

He pursed his lips, and the witty joke that Marinette expected didn’t come. Instead, Chat Noir turned to her and put a hand on each of her shoulders.

“Go hide, Princess.” The sharpness of his tone surprised her. “Please.”

“Umm…” she felt his hands squeeze her slightly. “O-okay, Chat Noir. Be careful.”

The promise of her safety must have been enough to undo whatever had rattled him, because his smile turned huge and he stepped away, bowing low.

“But of course, I’m paw-sitive things will be just f-el-ine.”

Marinette rolled her eyes while the cat hopped away, the only force of nature moving against the clamor of people fleeing the source of danger.

Wistful, Marinette watched him go, worried again. Was he okay?

“Marinette!” Tikki chimed, flying a few inches in front of her. At what point her kwami had come to the front of the store, the girl had no idea. “Aren’t we going?”

“O-oh, right!” She nodded seriously. “Let me go out the back…”

As quickly as she could manage, Marinette locked the front door and ran through the exit on the southern side of the building. Thankfully, everyone in this part of town had already fled or found refuge indoors, so it seemed safe enough to transform.

Marinette met eyes with her kwami, and the two shared a fierce nod. “Tikki, spots on!”

In a flash, a strength flowered from her core as red spandex fit to her like a second skin. Clarity and focus settled in her mind with ease, and with a contented sigh, Ladybug stepped out into the courtyard.

“Alright, let’s do this!” Ladybug said, mostly to get herself to get in the right headspace for a fight. It’s been weeks, and taking to the rooftops with her yo-yo in hand felt invigorating.

Back-tracking slightly so no one might see her depart directly from the flower shop, she ultimately headed towards the center of town. Ladybug made quick work of a few miles when the magical device in her outstretched hand began to buzz.

Finding a building to stop upon, Ladybug flipped open the screen, listening for disturbances or ambushes all the while.

“Chat Noir,” Ladybug nodded severely in greeting into the screen. The black cat grinned sheepishly, and she had to stop herself from laughing.

“Do I even want to know why you’re soaking wet?”

“Well, you see Bugaboo, it all started this morning when I -- “

“Mon chaton,” Ladybug said pointedly, raising her eyebrows at him. He shook himself off slightly like a drenched animal, and his hair seemed puffier as a result.

He kept his grin just as wide. “I’m afraid things are a bit fishy down by City Hall.”

“Fishy?”

Chat shrugged. “You’ll see. I’ll keep ‘em distracted for you, Bugaboo.” He sang her nickname and blew her a kiss.

Ladybug merely shook her head, flipping the screen closed. “That cat, sometimes…”

Setting a course towards her partner’s location, the heroine moved as a flash of red along the Parisian skyline. The roads were quiet in their vacancy, and it was always one of the worst parts of battling an akuma. People abandoned the streets and sucked the life from the city itself; it sounded of death and reminded her of absence, neither of which were conditions she yearned after.

Once City Hall was in sight, Ladybug quickly came to understand Chat’s meaning. The nearer she moved to the scene, the more that awful, odorous waves reeking of fish wafted to meet her. Even as a civilian, Ladybug was not the biggest fan of seafood, and this wasn’t the smell of a roasted salmon or freshly prepared sushi. It smelled like of salt and seawater, musky and dark and totally unpleasant. Vaguely, she recalled someone telling her once that olfactory experiences are more poignant than any other sensory memory; Ladybug could only hope that was hyperbolic, because this smell would surely haunt her forever.

“What the…” Ladybug muttered, covering her mouth and nose, trying in vain trying to block some of the oceanic air from making her dizzy. At the cusp of a large building looking over the city square, she looked down into the streets to find a torrent of… money? Coins, bills, and currency of every kind spilled into the streets, so high it covered some smaller buildings entirely. It was like a flood of cash sprang from City Hall and was rushing down the streets, a broken dam that began to submerge the city beneath the weight of wealth.

Baffled, Ladybug wondered aloud (through a compressed, nasally voice). “What kind of akuma is this?”

“Beats me,” answered a familiar call. She turned and spotted Chat Noir, retracting his baton and finding his footing. By the looks of it, he must have just vaulted to the top of the building himself.

“You weren’t kidding when you said it was fishy, mon chaton… ugh, this is terrible.” Ladybug replied, scowling and scanning the world below in vain, searching for some source of the chaos.

“Really?” He seemed amused. “Maybe it’s the whole, cat-like-instincts thing, but I think it’s actually rather nice.”

“Bleh,” Ladybug stuck her tongue out, and her partner snickered at her expense.

Stretching his arms, Chat moved to the buildings’ edge and crouched down. The streets were still filling with money, a sea of metal and paper growing taller in the center of the square and spreading further down each side street.

“Looks like we don’t have anytime to waste, unless we want to be sleeping with the fishies,” he commented, almost sounding annoyed. Ladybug sighed, and they met eyes. She gave the cat an approving smile.

“Well, kitty, this seems like your specialty. It looks like it’s all centralized around City Hall, so we best start there.” Chat’s ears perked, and Ladybug’s grinned widened. “Shall we go akuma fishing?”

Chat stood and spun in a fluid movement, facing her after a full rotation and bowing. “It would be a pleasure, Bugaboo.”

Leading the way, Ladybug swung her yo-yo far and aimed high, not particularly interested in falling into the flood of currency - the smell seemed to come from the rising tides, and frankly, she was glad to have nothing to do with it. The catching wind while she leapt closer to the building actually helped to wick some of the odor from the air surrounding her face, but when she landed deftly on the roof of the building, it grew even worse. The gentle thud of Chat Noir landed beside her, and his voice was immediately alarmed.

“L-Ladybug! Are you okay?” He gripped her shoulders. “Why are you crying?”

She groaned and patted his hold, using the knuckles of her other hand to brush away the sudden tears.

“I’m just fine, thank you for the concern Chat. It’s the smell, my eyes are just watering. Ugh.” Setting her jaw, she tried to indicate finality with her tone, and thankfully Chat Noir drew back.

“Hmm,” Chat tapped his chin and walked to study some of the skylight windows. “If you don’t think you’ll be able to breathe, don’t be afraid to fall back, okay? Maybe we can draw the akuma out away from the, uh,” he paused, looking over the side of the building at the growing pile of cash. “Ocean?”

Ladybug huffed and squared her shoulders. “You might be right, but let’s see if we can’t figure out what’s going on first.” She had to blink through some latent wetness while investigating the glass beside Chat Noir.

“It doesn’t look like there’s - oh, well,” Chat was about to state the obvious - that there wasn’t anyone inside - but his claim would have become immediately false. The door to the mayor’s office burst open, and so far as they could see, all of the inner sanctums of the building remained entirely vacant of money.

Stepping out from the office and cackling wildly, a larger-than-life man stepped through the doorway (just barely fitting) and dragged a large net behind him. In some weird way, Ladybug was reminded of Santa Claus, but only if the jolly man of Christmas carols had jaundice and turned mad.

The man sported a bright, almost insultingly yellow, coat with matching hat and boots that covered almost his entire body. A few inches between the bottom of the coat and the top of the boots exposed gray tattered clothes beneath, and even the man’s face was largely obscured by a bushy grey-white beard. Striking against the his drab appearance, his eyes were gruesome - one, large and blown from glass, matched by a scar from lid to cheek, and the other was gray as an overcast sky. What little of his face was visible and not disfigured appeared papery and tough, and he must have been getting up there in age.

Thrown over his shoulder, adding to the illusion of a deranged Kristopher Kringle, the man gripped a net at least double his size. Large and black woven wire crossed over itself into what must have been some sort of fisherman’s net; it was the only part of his get-up that seemed a clear candidate for the akuma to hide.

Ladybug grimaced when she realized the net was not empty.

“He’s got the mayor,” Chat commented, almost as casually as if he were remarking on the weather. With a glance over the streets, Ladybug noted the rising rate of the strange paper and metal sea, and snapped her fingers.

“Ah. The treasury is in this building. That’s probably where the money is coming from, and I think it’s below ground.”

Chat nodded, already understanding her meaning.

“I’ll stop the flood,” he offered.

She smiled. “And I’ll try to get the net away from ol’ greybeard.”

With a quick nod, she watched Chat dive from the building into the “water” with surprising grace. The sound of his body hitting a conglomerate of metal, however, did not sound at all pleasant.

“It probably doesn’t tread like water,” Ladybug yelled down to him through cupped hands. She giggled as Chat massaged his backside, more crawling than swimming towards the bit of the entrance that was still visible.

He called back to her. “That would have been helpful about 10 seconds ago!”

Allowing herself a little laugh, the red heroine readjusted her shoulders and faced the window again. The akumatized victim was shouting something nonsensical to the mayor, who was quivering under the net. She needed to act quickly before things escalated into some sort of hostage situation.

The windows on the roof did not have any visible locking mechanisms, so Ladybug shrugged and kicked through the glass, leaping to the marble tiles effortlessly.

“Let him go!” She demanded as the yellow-coated man turned to face her, and much to her surprise, he dragged the mayor’s weight with his turn.

The moment of recognition came too slow, though, and Mayor Bourgeois slammed into her and knocked her back into a pillar.

“Ladybug!” He cried, seemingly uninjured though he had just been used as a weapon.

Groaning, she blinked a few times and tried to ignore the several tender spots where rock had met her back muscles, and took another, more prepared stance across the hall outside the mayor’s office.

A different approach, she held her yo-yo at the ready. “What do you want?”

“Fair trade in the state of France!” He shouted automatically, adjusting the net at his shoulder. “And I, the Pêcheur, ain’t going to let some bug get in the way of what the hardworkin’ people of France deserve!”

Ladybug dropped and rolled away from the swing of the net she knew was coming, the threat evident behind his words. Not a moment too soon, as a loud crunching sound left a crater against the wall where she had just been standing. Maybe the net wasn’t hiding the akuma after all? It seemed really careless to swing around the object she needed to destroy so recklessly.

“The people of France don’t want violence, Fisherman, I can assure you that.” Ladybug replied calmly, standing and gripping her yo-yo. If not the net, than what?

The hat? Maybe… It still didn’t feel right, though.

“Oh I don’t know,” he said, cackling and swinging the mayor like a ragdoll. Ladybug winced, glad whatever magic kept Mayor Bourgeois in the net equally seemed to stop him from getting hurt. Still, he was a civilian, so she needed to get him out of here as quickly as possible. With a hasty scan of her surroundings, Ladybug noticed an elevator at one end of the hall.

“The people of France welcomed a revolution filled with violence, or did you forget, Little Miss?”

Backpedaling down the length of the corridor, Ladybug tried to keep Pêcheur far enough away that he would have to release his net to swing it at her, but near enough that he kept in pursuit. Just a little further…

“That’s true, but times have changed, Fisherman!” Ladybug took a threatening posture with her weapon in one hand, her other hand seeking the elevator button. “You can’t expect the people of Paris to--”

She stopped when the lift behind her dinged lightly, and she reared back with her yo-yo ready to send it spiraling around his ankles. In retaliation, Pêcheur roared furiously and whipped his net around, swinging it at her with barbaric force.

Perfect.

Like pretending to throw a dog a bone, she kept a close hold on her yo-yo, leaping over the net as it swept at her. Instead, she flung the trusty weapon at the man’s forearm that had a hold on the mayor. With a cry of pain, he dropped the net just in front of the elevator, and gravity did the rest.

She fell to the earth just inches in front of Mayor Bourgeois and quickly dragged him backwards before the elevator closed.

An angry wallop could be heard against the metal doors, but she had been just fast enough to complete the getaway. Immediately, Ladybug began to unravel a whimpering Mayor Bourgeois.

“Mayor! Are you alright?”

He was shaking, but appeared unharmed. “Y-yes, Ladybug. Thank you! I feel t-terrible about this…”

Ladybug noted a pleasant beep above their heads; they entered on the third floor, and she had her sights on the basement.

“Do you know what happened? Who is Pêcheur?”

Mayor Bourgeois made a face. “Well, he’s a fisherman.”

“... Yes, thank you, Mayor. And?” It was difficult to keep the irritation from her voice as she lifted the last bit of net above his head.

Another beep.

One more floor.

“He came to my office with a proposed bill to reduce the state tariffs on exporting fish, but that is something politically way above my head. I’m just a mayor! When I refused to bring his concern to my compatriots at the Assemblée nationale, he screamed about earning his livelihood at sea and stormed from my office.” The man completed his explanation as Ladybug helped him stand. Once he was steady, she reared an arm high in the air and used her foot as a counterbalance, tearing the net wide.

No butterflies here.

As if on cue, the final ding sounded in time with Ladybug’s sigh and the doors opened.

The horrible, repugnant scent of dead fish flared in her throat, and the mayor covered his mouth to stop from throwing up. A small influx of money spilled around their ankles, but it wasn’t surging as it once had.

“Why, there you are Bugaboo,” Chat called nonchalantly straight across from them, using his bodyweight to keep a large bank-style safe closed. It was clearly giving under the stress of compounding currency within, but his barricade had stayed the madness temporarily.

He shifted when a particularly horrendous metal creaking sound went off behind him. It was clear the door was going to give soon.

“I hate to be a burden, but purr-haps you could lend this poor cat a hand?”

Ladybug helped the mayor wade through the mess to the stairs, and thankfully Chat had mostly cleared a path on his way inside. “Mayor, find any room to hide it. It’s too dangerous in the streets with all of this in the way,” she gestured at the mess at their feet. He quickly nodded and thanked her again before sputtering and slipping his way up the stairs.

In a flash, Ladybug flew across the remainder of the room and, with their  combined strength, managed to better stabilize the door.

“Okay, minou, got any ideas? Where’s the money even coming from?”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that,” he said, the strain clear in his voice. “It doesn’t seem to be coming from anywhere. It’s just seeping through the ceiling in there. Like rain, almost.”

“Rain?” Ladybug glanced down. “And you were wet earlier, weren’t you?”

Chat scowled. “It wasn’t my fault, I was helping someone in a car that got turned over and some people running by were soaking wet.”

She frowned, brow drawn together as she looked at her feet. “Maybe this isn’t just like water. Maybe it is water, Chat. That explains why its able to sort of swish and move on its own, and there’s no way he could have an endless supply --”

The cat yelped as the door started to give a bit, and he hastily replied. “Yes, sure, great - your logic is amazing and you’re amazing, blah blah, but maybe we should get out of here?”

“Ugh,” Ladybug groaned, exerting even more force as the door started to buckle. “We need a plan first. If one of us lets go, the metal won’t hold.”

Ears perked, Chat Noir turned to her with a grin. “Wait a meow-ment! I have an idea! Just hold the door for one second, and um..well, actually...” His smile flickered and faded.

“Well?!” Ladybug shook her head, eyes bulging. “What are you waiting for? What is it!?”

“Umm, you’ll have to, uh, spread your… legs” he muttered. Frankly, she didn’t care about boundaries and all that - Chat clearly was not understanding the urgency of the situation.

“Okay! Okay, sure, just do whatever you have to!”

Chat frowned at her for a moment, as if surprised she trusted him so completely, but his focus came back with another groan of the metal.

His tone was hard. “Okay, hold the door.”

Under her breath, Ladybug muttered a quick retort through grit teeth. “Yeah, like I have much of a choice.”

Chat Noir moved directly in front of her, crouched down and drew his weight back. “Cataclysm!”

He aimed a hand, miasmatic and deadly, at the spot where the metal barrier met the ground, just between her feet, and the floor began to quake.

With his other arm, Chat wrapped a deft hand around her waist and extended his baton forward into the metal, just as the hinges began to snap, and drove them back into the elevator.

He smashed the button closed the moment they were inside. The door dented under the crushing weight of coins, but they were unscathed.

Ladybug heaved for air, crisp and sharp against her windpipe as they stood in the strangely quiet elevator. Beside her, Chat rubbed the back of his neck anxiously.

“S-Sorry, that was close.” He glanced at their feet, noticing some netting caught in the small collection of coins and paper below. “I take it the akuma wasn’t in the net?”

Still breathless from exertion, she merely shook her head and glanced up at Chat. The moment they met eyes, his ring beeped twice.

“Ah…” he pressed his lips together and eyed his right hand in annoyance. “Well, any ideas?”

“I think…” she began, looking at the ceiling. “I think the guy isn’t going to leave the building. At some point, he’ll demand our miraculous, and we’re already here. More importantly, he said he wants to change the laws, I guess.”

Chat Noir snorted and ran a hand down his face. “They have like, petitions for that, right? Did getting akumatized seem like the most logical solution?”

His ring beeped again.

Ladybug was only half-listening, and she lifted herself up using the wall to support her weight, pushing through the latch in the ceiling. He didn’t need directions to know they were going up, the long way.

Once situated in the dark vertical tunnel, she squinted upwards and addressed Chat’s earlier question. “Yes, but, this man felt wronged, or cheated from what I gathered. He called himself the Pêcheur. The Mayor refused to help him… and he was talking about ‘the hardworking French people’. The smell, the ‘ocean’ of money, his outfit...”

A little more quietly, Chat reached the same conclusion she had earlier. “Ahh… A fisherman who wanted to improve wages or something to that effect, wronged by the Bourgeois. Literally, probably.”

She nodded, to which Chat added, “But what is he hoping to do?”

Another beep.

Ladybug just shook her head as she unsheathed her yo-yo, spinning it before grappling to the floor she had last seen him. “I have no idea, but we’ve got to stop it before things get more out of control. Your ‘second basement’ bought us some time, but Paris is going to flood if we don’t do something.

“It’s almost like the city is under-funded, am I right, Bugaboo?”

Chat had his baton ready, but Ladybug lifted a hand to stop him.

“You should stay here, you’re about to detransform. I’ll go after Pêcheur, and you recharge. Okay?”

She could tell, even in the low-light, his ears drooped slightly. The hard truth came in the form of his final beep, warning them of only sixty more seconds until he would revert to civilian form.

“I’ve got some food on me, so I’ll be able to catch up with you soon.” Chat offered, and Ladybug gave him a quick two-fingered salute.

“Bug out for now, mon chaton.”

--

The sound of hastily typing thumbs and a gorging kwami were the only things to break the silence for several minutes.

It was a little unnerving, sitting cross-legged at the bottom of a dark elevator shaft, waiting patiently for time to catch up to need. It was some sort of poetic pseudo-marketplace dealing in minutes and cheese, patience and fortune. Still, the quiet was peaceful, but it stirred a fear in his stomach.

Was Ladybug okay?

And another, newer worry found dominion beside that familiar fear.

Was Marinette okay?

Digitally speaking, things had spiraled out of control. Providing live updates to the Ladyblog, Alya was wading the sea (and probably earning herself some serious bruises along the way) while Nino had texted the group in clear panic, trying to get her to move inside or at least seek higher ground.

Marinette had not messaged any of them, which was disconcerting.

Adrien pulled up the blog in spite of himself, knowing his compliance was sort of encouraging Alya’s dangerous behavior, but it was an undeniably useful source of information when away from the throes of the fight.

The livestream was turning from selfie mode to photoview, and he cringed at the quick glimpse of Alya sauntering waist-deep towards the center of the city.

“Alright Ladybloggers, looks like there’s a change of scenery going on. Ladybug just appeared outside the building, and by the looks of it, no Chat Noir in sight.”

Scowling, Adrien and Plagg met eyes.

“The man calling himself Pêcheur,” Alya continued, oblivious to mutual annoyance of her audience in the elevator shaft. “Seems to be able to manipulate money, and he’s using the change to -- whoooaa,” Alya wavered and nearly dropped her camera, and the broadcast jostled disorientingly.

“We are in deep water now, folks, and that’s not a Chat Noir signature pun,” she shouted, and true to her word, the semi-calm mountains of cash had turned back to a freshet of angry ocean, literal water pouring into the city streets and sweeping Alya out and away with the deluge. His “second basement” must have bottomed out.

Adrien’s heart went out to Nino; at least Marinette had enough sense to stay inside.

“Okay folks, we need to seek higher ground. We couldn’t get close enough to hear the akuma’s threats, but there’s no denying one thing: he can control the water, and it can change to… well, change, apparently, by his whim. Stay safe everyone!”

She stopped the livestream, and Adrien couldn’t decide if it was appropriate to laugh or sigh. The girl was about as brave as Ladybug herself, but without the supersuit. In another life, she would have made a great superhero.

“Alright kid,” Plagg chewed his last piece of camambert and swallowed. “I’m ready when you are!”

Adrien stood quickly, his gaze fierce.

“Plagg, claws out!”

As easily as breathing, black leather encased his right arm and branched to his left, down his torso and hugging his body. Running a hand across his hair, familiar ears fit to his blond tresses and Chat Noir shook the familiar resurgence of power through his muscles.

“Round two.” He declared quietly, readying his baton to vault through the building, after Ladybug and the akuma.

Chat managed to trace after without issue, following the sounds of battle raging above his head. A clear hole had shattered a glass window, and the jagged edges offered droplets of water near the middle of the hallway. Unable to cling against their own gravity, the droplets turned to metal with a tiny shing each time another drop loosened and hit the marble floors.

Hmm. So LB and Alya were right. He turns water to money.

“But where is he even getting the water?” Chat wondered aloud, glaring at the ceiling.

A rush of red flew backwards across his line of sight, propelled by a gush of liquid that sounded hard and metallic upon impact.

He watched the Fisherman saunter forward, after what had clearly been an injured Ladybug. Chat waited just until the man crossed over the opening before vaulting himself on the roof.

“Hey now!” Chat taunted, twirling his baton upon landing. “Don’t you know that fish keep their money at the riverbank, Mounseir Pêcheur?”

Grinning, he paused to leap away from a second crashing wave of bills, rolling and landing on one knee. “C’mon, if you’re a Fisherman, surely you can catch me?”

Another rush of money snapped in his direction from over the side of the building, near enough that Chat felt the light tickle of passing air besides his ear.

The more Chat baited, the more the man fumed and rage, and the blond hero rather enjoyed watching the Fisherman’s face turn red beneath his yellow suit. It was clear, unbridled fury, and it was turning him reckless.

“Why are so crabby, anyways?” Chat mewled in time with the rising tides, the sound rapturous as metal smashed into concrete and plaster walls. Coins rained from above with the jostling movements, flying upwards only to smack against the top of his head. Chat hissed, more in annoyance than in pain.

Still, the Fisherman looked too ensorcelled to do much else than storm senselessly after the black cat. Not a single intelligible word passed through the man’s cracked lips, and of course, Chat Noir was never one to pass up a joke.

“What, cat got your tongue?”

In a furious roar, Pêcheur raised his arms high in the air and the sea moved with him, punching a hole straight through the roof with brute force.

Chat barely managed to backflip away from the assault, but it seemed Pêcheur had been hoping for that. He had driven Chat rather close to the edge of City Hall’s rooftop, and the hero barely managed to stay upright, thanking Plagg for his enhanced reflexes. Below, choppy tides and dangerous currents called up to him in a manmade monsoon.

“Heh, well, looks like you, uh, caught me?” Chat shrugged, and blessed be, Ladybug had regained her wits and he watched as the string of her yo-yo snaked around the Fisherman’s ankle just as he reared up for another attack.

A fierce shout garnered Chat’s attention while the man went sprawling.

“The akuma are the papers in his coat! It’s in his front pocket!”

Nimbly, Chat prowled forward and rolled the man over with his foot, ducking down to follow Ladybug’s directive. As he did, a massive shadow cast along the roof at his back, winking the sun out of existence. His ears were pitched to two sounds: one, of rustling paper and rising winds, and the other, a voice.

“Chat Noir! Look out!”

He had only time to cover his face before much more than just the sun was eclipsed - his whole body was smashed by waves of pain. Every muscle twisted and flared against sharp edges of coins and paper, crushing him beneath sheer weight alone. It was like getting smacked by a metal mallet, over every inch of his body, all at once.

“Lucky Charm!”

Oh thank god, Chat thought through grit teeth. It was disorienting, a rush of sensations that were fueled mostly by discomfort, shoving and dragging by invisible hands. The force of the hit had knocked him clean off the roof, and it was clear that the man was trying to drown him in a sea of greed.

A much different, sudden flare of pain made Chat wince, but this was neither a compression of coin or the twisting of substance pelting into his body again and again. It wasn’t the same light paper cuts that marked his cheeks and nose. This was tight and sharp, like someone was trying to pop his shoulder out of place.

Before he knew what was up from down, Chat Noir was airborne again.

He blinked several times, even more confused by his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was he had been freed of his alloy-bound tomb. The world was inverted, the fringe that usually rested along his face hanging down and away from his forehead, brushing into his sort-of-but-not-really cat ears. A definitely upside down and cute red heroine frowned at him- or was she grinning? - and raised an eyebrow in bemused appraisal.

“Hello, mon chaton,” teased Ladybug. “Can I borrow your baton?”

“Oh I suppose, it’s not like I’m using it, given that I’m just hanging around,” he grinned, though not without clenching his jaw through some of the latent soreness from his earlier battery. Chat reached for the trusted tool at his lower back and offered it to her.

Ladybug rolled her eyes and accepted his baton, only to let him go and crumple on the roof of what he figured to be a tall neighboring building. She had rigged some sort of pulley to bring him out of the crushing sea with her yo-yo and a large antenna. In her other hand, she held a comically huge polka-dot cutout of the mayor.

By now, the “water” had completely covered most of the square, and City Hall was immersed.

“Hmm, and where did our fishy friend go?” Chat asked as he rubbed the strain from his arms and shoulders.

Beside him, Ladybug pursed her lips while tieing one end of his baton and her yo-yo together, keeping the disc of her weapon dangling from the end. “He’s under the, uh, money somewhere. But I thought we might go back to our original plan.”

Chat watched her movements with interest, and Ladybug tested out his baton, extending it slowly.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

She smiled widely. “I thought we could try akuma fishing.”

And with no problem at all, she cast out their weapons into a makeshift fishing pole, far into the square with the cut-out of the mayor secured to one end. Her yo-yo stuck out above the choppy waves, a red sinker in the middle of a brown, silver and bronze mess of wealth.

Several seconds passed of silence, and Chat eventually offered, “Just like that?”

“Yep. Now we wait,” Ladybug offered simply, and Chat frowned when her earrings beeped.

“You sure about this?” He crossed his arms nervously, eyes scanning a jingling ocean.

That caused her to laugh, and it was a bubbly, infectious sound. Chat smiled.

“Of course, mon chaton. My lucky charm has never failed us before.”

“Well,” he shuffled his feet before deciding to sit down onto the roof beside her, boots almost grazing the top of the bristling body of money below. “I guess that’s true. This was a strange akuma, LB.”

After a pause, Ladybug replied. “Yes. It definitely was. I feel bad for the old man, he really seemed to just want a better life for himself and other fishermen.”

Another beep.

“I don’t think anyone can fault him that,” Chat responded, and they both fell quiet and watched the chaos start to calm. He must be close and spotted the bait.

Ladybug was going to change back in just another few minutes, and still the akuma hadn’t appeared. Even if they did manage to defeat it in time, it was sort of a shame. It had been awhile since he’d seen his partner, and Chat admittedly missed her company. Ladybug was one of his best friends, and… well, given the nature of their relationship, he felt like he should tell her about his recent interest in someone else. It’s not like it mattered really, but he loved Ladybug in the sort of way you would only with someone you’ve nearly died for, and who has nearly died for you.

With the recent luck he’s had as Adrien, Chat felt it was the sort of good news he could share with her and that she might want to know about. Even if he wouldn’t be able to refer to Marinette by name, it was something so new and pure that made him happy it was almost like lying to not talk about her. A lie of omission, almost.

Again, Ladybug’s earrings beeped, and Chat fidgeted uncomfortably.  “So… how are you?”

She blinked down at him, brow drawn together. “What?”

Rubbing his neck, Chat clarified. “Well, you know, it’s been a little while and…”

A horrible grinding sound caused them both to jump, and Chat sprang to his feet while Ladybug returned her focus forward. The baton was starting to bend under a sudden weight, and a swishing release of Ladybug’s “line” began zipping loudly over the water.

“This is it!” She said, but the sudden intensity of Pêcheur’s grip at the other end was starting to pull her over the building’s edge. Without a second thought, Chat situated himself behind her and wrapped his arms around the baton as well, using their combined strength and weight to doubleback against the line, and he cringed at the sound of beeping just beneath his head.

“Ladybug! You only two minutes left!” He managed, grinding his molars.

“It’s okay. I’ve got this,” she spoke confidently, and quick tug his baton began to retract in, dragging the akuma’s weight along with it.

Of course, just as Ladybug said, the rest was simple. Pêcheur’s body had gotten tied up in the wire of her yo-yo, unable to escape though he thrashed like a fish just caught from the ocean. Quicker than they ever had before, Chat leapt up, snatched the akuma and threw it down to his partner, and she quickly ripped the papers to shreds.

Ladybug bid the luminescent, glowing akuma farewell, and stayed only long enough to offer Chat her fist.

“Pound it!” She smiled before, in perfect Ladybug fashion, bugging out in the other direction.

Sighing contently, he watched her go from the rooftops, looking down into the center of Paris with satisfaction. Another successful battle, and Chat watched as the people began to return to their wares, ducking out from buildings hesitantly.

With some gentle reassurances, Chat helped escort the akumatized victim to the medical professionals, and he caught the tailend of a conversation between the man and Mayor Bourgeois.

“I really do apologize, Monseiur Naser. I’ll at least see if I can take it to my colleagues, but I do not know how much power I will have.”

“T-thank you, Mayor. I appreciate you even trying to make a change.”

Chat sighed and removed himself as politely as possible from the crowds, trying to disengage from the probes about Ladybug’s whereabouts or his take on the recent dry spell of akumas. Of course, he did his best to answer vaguely but kindly, and thanks to Ladybug’s power any of the pain or soreness from his body had been wicked away.

Paris had been defended, but that didn’t mean he felt his job was done. Chat still had someone waiting for him, halfway across town, but what had been intended as a short break between shooting for the new Gabriel ad had been totally sucked up in the attack. Once again, responsibility got in the way of seeing Marinette, and it had only been so fleeting. Chat did not want to jeopardize the recent headway he had made with his relationship with his father, so he was resigned to return to his civilian life.

Chat Noir took to the sky and his feet only touched the tops of buildings long enough to propel him into the air again, preferring the open wind to the chains of gravity that would return him to himself soon.

Carefully, he slipped into an alley behind the studio he was expected in and spoke three familiar words.

“Plagg, claws in.”

Adrien held his palms out carefully, and his black kwami settled himself comfortably against his chosen’s fingers. Unfortunately, Adrien had only brought cheese enough for one detransformation, and Plagg knew as much.

Grumbling, the kwami curled in on himself, much like the creature that gave Chat Noir his namesake. “If ya can gets me something with some cheese in it, I’ll forgive you... this time.”

Adrien smiled. “There’s a snack table in the back. It’s not camembert, but I’m pretty sure they have some cheeses.”

At that, Plagg mustered enough energy to float into the front pocket of Adrien’s jacket, urging him on towards the dressing rooms.

Adrien stopped in the middle of the hallway, spotting some floral arrangement with a flower he actually recognized. It was part of one of the “sets” for the shoot, he assumed, as it was complex and larger than life. This had been the first time he had been able to utilize Marinette’s lessons in all things floral outside of the shop, and the recognition caused his heart to skip a beat.

He wasn’t sure what came over him, and Plagg certainly did not understand why Adrien felt the urge to stop in the middle of his Holy Grail quest with cheese at the helm, but in a quick motion the blond had his phone in his hands and was snapping a picture of the flowers.

Adrien (3:01 PM):

I’m at a shoot today. I saw these and I thought of you. :)

The only disappointing thing was that he knew it wasn’t a Dupain-Cheng product - those were easy to spot. With each delivery he had seen Marinette prepare, rather as Chat Noir or as Adrien, he always noticed the tag she would attached to the outside somewhere with care; a handwritten note thanking each customer for their business.

“I’m dying, Adrien,” Plagg called dramatically, turning over inside his jacket. “I’ll never be able to help you fight another akuma again, or sneak into your girlfriend’s room late at night.”

Hastily, the teen shoved his phone back in his jeans and made a beeline for the snack table, shoving enough cheese into his jacket to satiate a fully grown human.

Adrien took off his coat in the dressing room and left Plagg to his disturbing feasting rituals, staying only long enough to grab his phone and take it out to the set with him.

Marinette (3:08 PM):

What a coincidence!! I just sold some of those earlier today! They’re (bouvardia) Hummingbird flowers. Sorta like those latanas you sold the other day. :D

Marinette (3:08 PM)

Although Mme. Kleinstein probably would’ve bought anything from you with those freakin puns.

He grinned, walking down the hall. Adrien wasted no time writing back, stopping just shy of the shooting area so he could finish his message.

Adrien (3:09 PM):

That was the best sale the store has ever made and you know it! I gtg, we’re about to start again - but I thought they were pretty and knew you would appreciate them.

“Aye! There you are!” The photographer called, snapping her fingers aggressively halfway across the room.

“S-Sorry,” Adrien stammered as he slipped his phone into his jeans, but the woman simply glared suspiciously before turning her attention back to fixing her camera.

Around the studio, clusters of people moved around in preparation. Set designers, wardrobe, make-up, photographers and aids, Nathalie, magazine editors and people with clipboards all fluttered about, busying themselves with this-or-that. You wouldn’t even know the whole city hadn’t been under siege not twenty minutes ago.

Adrien hadn’t much time to think about it before he was swept up in the din, being shuffled back into his next outfit and having hands poking and prodding around his body. It felt annoyingly like the sensation of getting smashed by a tidal wave of change, just a little less sharp.

Still, he was thankful that most of his shots today were ones requiring happy poses. With recent events, that posture came naturally and his smile felt less forced. The photographers commented on his unusually but refreshingly chipper attitude, and he could only blush when Nathalie mentioned off-handedly that he had a date tomorrow night.

It was true, and it’s not like he was ashamed of it.

Between shots, different people would whisper to him about it, and he tried to just brush it off with the same answer.

“I’m excited! Just a little nervous.”

For whatever reason, it turned out that had been the wrong thing for Adrien to say. Several of the adults took his honesty as an opportunity to grant him all sorts of unsolicited advice and to offer tips from their wide experiences dating.

Adrien knew most of these people moderately well - business acquaintances, he would probably label them. Some were comfortable enough to be on a first-name basis, but it wasn’t without an arm’s-length of familiarity between them, so discussing something so personal with people like this was… strange, definitely. But more than that, it was nice. Everyone was clearly excited for him, asking all sorts of questions about Marinette and their plans, how they met and how he asked her out. The photographer, Lila, audibly “aww’d” when he told her about her employment as (practical) sole proprietor of the flower shop.

By the time the next break came, an hour had passed and Adrien felt like he had just finished having the most bizzare group therapy session imaginable. Between the overwhelming positivity of the people around the studio and their decidedly bizarre interest in his love life, he strode to his dressing room to check on Plagg when another model spotted him.

“Oh, hi, Macey.” Adrien stopped and nodded politely. She was a brunette with a dark complexion, taller than his father probably, and he knew she was about five years older than he was. They had done dozens of shoots together for the Gabriel line, and she tended to treat him like a younger brother. While Macey wasn’t quite a friend, she was at least always polite and easy to talk to.

“So A,” she said, hand at her hip. “Tell me about Marinette.”

A rush of blood flooded his cheeks, and the woman laughed. She gestured for them to continue down the hall, which gave him a chance to clear his throat.

“Well, she’s in my class at school - I’m not sure how much you heard out there…?”

She brushed him off. “I want to hear it all again. From the top.”

The explanation felt practically rehearsed after talking to so many people about Marinette recently, so it only took a few minutes to re-explain his friendship and admiration for the dark-haired miracle in his life.

They were standing outside Adrien’s dressing room by the time Adrien finished.

“So you like her. Marinette.”

“Um,” Adrien blinked. Had she even been listening? Wasn’t that much obvious? “Yes. A-a lot, actually.”

“As in, maybe-one-day-a-serious-relationship?”

He nodded firmly, omitting the comment that popped into his head about the possibility they might already be in a relationship if not for his own obliviousness.

Lowering her voice, Macey glanced down the hall.

“Well, then, I’m really happy for you, A. Really.” She smiled, as Adrien was clearly confused. “But take it from me - be careful with the press, especially early on. I lost a lot of good guys to the stress brought on by the paparazzi.”

Ah. Right. That… actually made a lot of sense.

“I guess I didn’t really think about that, I’m just so used to it...” He admitted, tapping his chin.

Macey closed her eyes and nodded, satirically serious. “The burden of fame, my friend. I know it’ll be fine, but I couldn’t not say something. It really sucks if a story gets out of hand, you know?”

Adrien thanked her, and Macey left him to his room. As he entered, he found Plagg snoozing beneath his jacket, so Adrien looked around for his cellphone.

Crap.

He left it in his jeans, which were still over in wardrobe.

Sighing, he sat at the mirror and considered Macey’s advice. It was reminiscent of a rumor that had gotten out about him and Marinette once, and in retrospect, it was funny to think about it now. Someone had taken a photo of them at the park beside her house, under rather embarrassing circumstances if he recalled correctly, and the photo went viral with claims of a secret relationship. At the time, Marinette had taken the gossip in stride and insisted it wasn’t an issue, and like most tabloid fodder, it died out rather quickly since no one in the Agreste circle acknowledged the photos.

A photo or two was innocent enough, so they had no problem dismissing the public speculation surrounding their friendship. But now? If he and Marinette continued to spend more time together (a thought which made him grin in spite of himself), the winds would likely stir the rumor mill all over again.

The irony of all of this was not lost on him.

Adrien had grown up under the constant scrutiny associated with fame, bulbs flashing and shouts commandeering his attention just walking down the sidewalk. The press knew no boundaries, demanding answers on anything and everything ranging from French politics, to the disappearance of his mother, to his take on Chat Noir and Ladybug. Incidentally, when he first wore his miraculous, admiring fans had already been second nature at that point.

Would Marinette be okay with the publicity?

…Maybe?

She was sort of shy, but fierce when she wanted to be. It’s not like you had to be an extrovert to deal with photographers - look at his father, for example.

Still, Adrien didn’t want to upset her or make her uncomfortable. Especially as he’s gotten older and come to, um, understand romance in a more adult context, he could imagine plenty of horrible headlines that could really start them off on unfortunate footing. It’s not like footing was something something Marinette was exactly known for...

“Plagg - I got a question for you.” Adrien pondered, glancing over at the clock. They’ll need him again in another five minutes.

“Adrien, I swear to the stars,” his kwami mumbled. “If Paris isn’t on fire, I’ll cataclysm you.”

The teen smirked, though took a few steps back for good measure. “Can you even do that?”

“Do you really want to find out?” Plagg replied darkly, but lifted his head and met his stare with a half-lidded glare.

“Nope.” Adrien help up his hands. “Actually, I think I just figured out my answer. Go back to sleep, grumpy.”

His kwami did not need telling twice, and his head lowered beneath Adrien’s jacket again. Tiny snores came almost immediately.

Rolling his eyes, Adrien headed out the door and made his way back to the front of the studio. Despite Plagg’s bad attitude, he actually had answered Adrien’s question. All he had to do was ask for the kwami’s attention, and Plagg’s reaction was answer enough to know how the conversation would go.

Why not just do the same thing with Marinette? Not everything had to be a riddle or require a complicated plan. Adrien respected her too much to make assumptions on what she might feel.

By the time he was in front of the camera again, Adrien’s mood was bright again. Some of the set workers still occasionally whispered questions to him about Marinette, which made him blush more than once (each time, the photographer or makeup artist would yell in annoyance. Red cheeks were good for a winter ad, not one with floral backdrops). Aside from those interruptions, the remainder of the shoot passed without issue.

They were all dismissed just a bit few minutes after six, but by the time Adrien had finished changing and washing his face, he wasn’t in the car until quarter-til seven. Sinking comfortably into the seat, he finally sought out his phone. He had fifteen texts from the group chat, and from a separate, private conversation.

Marinette (3:11 PM):

Thanks for sharing, that was really sweet. And np - good luck!

You would think he would be tired of smiling after a photoshoot, but then, he was also lucky enough to have something to look forward to afterwards.

Thinking through a response, Adrien studied the streets as the car rolled by. Vermillion streaks of maroon velvet had begun to explode across the sky, rippling outwards against a swirling miasma of night that began to overtake Paris. Softening, the day was mending beneath the horizon as night came to reign again. It was both dark and luminous, all at once, reminding him of Marinette’s hair as it bounced down the sidewalk.

No, wait.

That was just her, walking home.

“Oh!” He blurted, shooting upright.

Nathalie jumped, and she turned to him sharply. “What is it? Are you alright?”

Adrien blushed, still staring at the window. They were stopped at a light, so Marinette just floated off towards the bakery, towards her home.

“Umm…” He glanced at Nathalie, who was staring at him with hard eyes, and his bodyguard, who was completely not reacting at all.

“Y-yes, I’m fine! It’s just, Marinette is right outside. Could we offer her a ride home?”

The two in the front met eyes, his father’s secretary pursing her lips, and they both glanced at the time on the dash.

“...Pull over,” Nathalie commanded, and the driver did just that at the first chance.

Adrien hastily thanked them and practically flung himself onto the sidewalk, running to catch up with her.

“Marinette! Mari!” Adrien called, speeding past a few alarmed pedestrians. Perhaps she had been examining her cellphone from within her purse, because her pigtails shot up at the call of her name, and she turned around.

“H-hey!” He greeted, stopping and panting in front of her from the sudden sprint. Marinette blinked, nonplussed, and shook her head.

“Adrien? What are you…?” She clasped her bag shut, but smiled as she spoke his name.

He tried to smile back, still slightly bent forward from his exertion. “I was just driving home from the photoshoot… we were stopped at the light,” he jerked over his thumb in the general direction of the car, and Marinette peered over his shoulder. “And I saw you walking. Did you just get out of work?”

Marinette covered her mouth to laugh lightly, and nodded. “Yes, and earlier than I hoped. That akuma scared away a lot of my customers.”

“Oh. Sure.” He rubbed his hands together anxiously, not sure what to say to that.

Silence came thereafter, but it wasn’t awkward. Marinette was just radiant, both physically and by way of her presence alone. She seemed to diffuse happiness into the air itself, and Adrien drank it all in.

It was almost too much when her cheeks turned pink.

Adrien cleared his throat and gestured behind him. “Did you want a ride home? We could take you.”

Marinette’s mouth fell open slightly, surprised. “O-oh, really? I would… I would love that, actually, if you’re sure it’s no trouble.”

He laughed and started to guide them back to the car. “Nah, it’s fine. You’re the only one who attracts trouble, after all.”

Adrien leaned down and grabbed the door, opening it for her. Marinette scrunched her nose, always acting sort of flustered when he would try to behave chivalrously.

Quietly, before stepping in, her blue eyes sparkled. “Should I start calling you trouble, then?”

Marinette closed the door for herself, smiling proudly at what was probably his stunned expression. He was still working through the joke by the time she was buckled in, and he had to scramble around street-side to get in, blushing and grinning at her all the while.

Beside the goofy glimpses they shared on the way back to the bakery, sticking their tongues out or winking dramatically, trying to fight the urge to laugh, the actual conversation remained perfectly cordial. Marinette asked Nathalie how she was doing, and apologized for her mother’s insistence the other day (Adrien guessed she heard it all second-hand from Sabine and Tom once she got home), and she and Adrien spoke about their days.

Well, besides the whole turning into Chat Noir and protecting Paris for almost two hours. He decided to leave that part out.

Towards the end of the ride, Marinette began to bounce lightly against the lush seats, brightening as she retrieved her cell phone. “Your text was really nice, b-by the way. I love Bouvardia, they’re the flower of enthusiasm!”

“I’m glad,” Adrien responded with a smile “I like how enthusiastic you get when you talk about all flowers, so this is like, enthusiasm about enthusiasm.”

“Meta-enthusiasm,” Marinette closed her eyes and nodded solemnly, peeking through a lid and catching his eye. They both grinned and snickered quietly.

“Yeah,” he said with a small, contented sigh as he gazed at the streets. They were very near to her house now. “I always think of you when I see flowers anymore. I hope that’s not weird,”

he tagged on the last part hastily, hoping she didn’t see the color fill his cheeks.

“The shop is like, one of my favorite places in the city.”

Marinette’s smile reached her eyes, and she too was looking out the window. The lights of street lamps that hit her face in a sort of constant flutter. It made her look almost angelic.

“Mine, too,” she commented, voice soft.

They pulled to a stop just outside of the bakery, and he could see Tom inside with a broom, sweeping the front of the store.

“Well…” Marinette said, rubbing her hands on her jeans. She looked nervous, which only made her even more adorable.

Adrien turned to her and tried for some confidence, very aware of the adults in the car and her father fifteen feet away in the building. “I’ll see you tomorrow, after you get off of work?”

Ducking her head, Marinette nodded vigoriously and started to get out the door. She paused halfway through and looked back inside the car.

“Thank you, Adrien, for taking me home. And thank you, Mme. Sancouer and, um, Adrien’s driver.”

“You’re welcome,” Nathalie said, keeping her eyes forward.

Adrien scooted down the seat slightly, leaning towards her. If only he could tell her how beautiful she looked right now, hair framing her face and eyes wide, turned up in kindness.

“Can I... call you again tonight?” He managed shyly.

Adrien lost a bit of his will power when she beamed at him, causing her freckles dancing under the light of the moon. He reached for her hand resting on the open door and, as gently as he could, kissed her knuckles. Glancing up, Adrien hoped the action spoke the word he was too embarrassed to say aloud.

Please?

Her own gaze looked only surprised, but if he didn’t know better, her skin had darkened from the gesture. A tiny bit smug, Adrien thought she looked much less offended than when Monseiur Delcair kissed her hand a week ago.

“I- I, yes. Yes.” She nodded and gave his fingers a light squeeze before pulling away. “I would like you very much. I-I mean, I would like that very much! I’m, I’ll… uh, see you!” Quickly, she waved and tagged on a squeaky “‘Bye!”

The door closed firmly and he watched her scurry up to the door, nearly colliding with the frame on her way inside.

Night proper had settled across Paris, dark and enigmatic, yet the city of love had never seemed so bright. Adrien felt like he was dreaming already, and he when he arrived home after mercifully little questioning from Nathalie, he had never wanted to sleep so readily. The next day, he would take Marinette on their first date, and the hours could not pass fast enough.

[peacefulheartfarm]

Canning Peas

Canning peas is great fun. We have been shelling peas for several days. That is also quite fun. I’ll be talking all about that and more in today’s podcast.

I want to take a minute and say welcome to all the new listeners and welcome back to the veteran homestead-loving regulars who stop by the FarmCast for every episode. I appreciate you all so much. I’m so excited to share with you what’s going on at the farm this week.

Our Virginia Homestead Life Updates

It’s a beautiful time of year. Summer has arrived in full force. The days are often sunny and hot. We could use a lot more rain, but again, it is summer. The rains will be few and far between for the most part. That means watering the garden and orchard a lot. We really need to get that irrigation system back up and running. Oh well, it’s on the very long list of stuff we would like to do. Right now, life is all about canning peas. But first . . . how about some animal updates?

Cows

Surprise! Hansel and Gretel, the twin calves, have a new home. Each day I went out there to give them their bottles I looked and them and mused about what we were going to do with them. Then God provided. A man called out of the blue. He actually lives relatively close, about an hour away. He was frantic for a calf. Just that morning one of his cows, a Holstein, had lost her calf. I was happy to say that we did have a calf he could buy. In fact, we had two and the cow being a Holstein, she would produce lots and lots and lots of milk. He could probably use two calves.

It all happened so fast. Before nightfall, this wonderful man and his wife were here picking up those two calves. It was such a win-win situation. Again, it all happened so fast I didn’t have much of a chance to think about how much I would miss seeing those baby faces every day.  

Artificial insemination is in progress. It is less than a week before we see if the AI took. We look for signs from any of the cows coming into heat. If so, we do it again. Fingers crossed all seven cows and heifers are pregnant on the first try.

Donkeys

Scott got all of the donkeys spiffed up with their hooves trimmed nicely. They are going to the sale barn. If you would like one of these great animals, let us know soon. Their purpose on our homestead was livestock protection. Now that we have decided to use livestock guardian dogs for that task, their jobs no longer exist and they will have to move on to help out someone else.

I will miss them, especially Daisy and Cocoa. Well, Sweet Pea and Johnny will also be missed. It was a hard decision but we have to do the best we can for all of our animals and the coyote pressure was too much for them, I think. They are miniature donkeys. Perhaps if they had been full sized donkeys, the job would have been an easy one. In any case, we are moving on with the next plan. It’s how we roll on the homestead.

Sheep and Goats

I just checked the possible delivery dates for the sheep. We couldn’t find the day that we put Lambert back in with the ladies, so we guessed based on the log entries for when the animal predation stopped. Our best estimate indicates we could have new lambs the last week of October. That would be such a blessing. We really have no idea how it will go as we’ve never tried to breed the ewes for a fall lambing. Many sheep and goats will only breed in the fall for spring lambing. The katahdin breed is supposed to be able to breed year-round. We shall see.

Orchard and Garden

Just before I started this podcast, I went to the spare bedroom and looked out the window to see if Scott might be in the garden. It was not likely but you never know. He has been working on fixing the deer fencing that was annihilated a few years back during a particularly difficult thunderstorm. Trees were down all over and one took out some of the deer fencing.

The game cameras we have out there indicated to Scott that there are two deer that are regularly invading the orchard. That’s why the blueberries disappeared. Likely the blackberries will be next. Something was also chomping on the green beans. I knew that would be deer. They love green bean plants.

Deer are Dear

Anyway, I’m looking out the window for Scott and what do I see? There is a deer pacing up and down outside the garden. She is looking for a way to get in and steal more of our bean plants and fruit. I watched her for a little while. Then she laid down right in front of the gate into the orchard. Just plopped down. A half hour later, I looked again and she was still laying there in front of the gate. Of course, if I opened the door and looked out, she would hear that noise and likely run away. I let her rest. It seems Scott has her fenced out. No need to upset her even more.

Tomatoes

The tomatoes are doing well in the garden. Again, we have to water nearly every day. Fertilizer needs to happen as well.

The tomatoes were planted just in front of the green peas. Green peas produce a whopping amount of peas and then die off pretty quickly. I had two 70-foot rows of peas. One was a shelling variety and the other were those lovely sugar snap peas. My original plan was to take them to the farmer’s market. Then life happened. They came on so quickly and there were far too many for me to pick, clean and package in time for market. I did pack up two 5-gallon buckets full and sold nearly all of those. But there were so many.

Green Peas

Because they ripened so quickly and it was hot and they were drying out quickly, I simply pulled up all the plants. There was a lot of green material along with the peas. But I needed to get them out of the sun quickly. The living room floor was filled with lots of greenery for a few days. Each evening, we went through the plants and pulled off the peas.

All together there were five more 5-gallon buckets of peas in the pods. These were too far gone to sell fresh at the market so the next challenge was getting the peas shelled out so I could can them. That is still a work in progress. And that brings me to the topic of the day, canning peas.

Canning Peas

Within a couple of evenings, my 3-gallon stainless steel pot was full. In quart jars, that is a nice even dozen. I figured with leaving head space and all that I could stretch that to 14 jars and fill my American Standard canner. It is tall enough to hold two levels of 7 jars each. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Shelling Peas

Scott and I have spent three or four days so far shelling peas in the evening after chores and dinner. We are re-watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy. When Scott saw what I had picked for entertainment while we shelled peas, he commented something along the lines of, “I guess you are expecting this take a while.” And indeed, I did . . . and do. We are nearing the end of the extended versions of the movie. I don’t really know many hours that entails. I’m thinking three plus hours for each film, so that would be somewhere in excess of nine hours so far.

We have three of the five buckets of peas shelled. I have one canner full from the first two buckets and enough peas for another seven jars from the third bucket of peas. That leaves two more buckets for tonight and tomorrow night. That should make another 14 quarts. All together I will likely have 35 jars of canned peas. That should last us a while, don’t ya think?

Canning is the Easy Part

Canning the peas is the easiest part of this whole scenario. I know that some of you may be hesitant about canning. But once you know and understand how it is done, it comes down to what size jar you use and how much time will that be at 12 pounds pressure. Well, twelve pounds for us. We are over the 1,000 feet elevation mark. The standard is 10 pounds of pressure for canning just about anything that requires a pressure canner.

I have a nice gauge that allows me to bring that pressure up to 12 pounds. If I use my smaller canner, I end up using a pressure device that just wobbles and spits steam when the pressure is reached. I use the 15-pound pressure gauge to make my canning safe. And I’m ahead of myself again. Let me give you the basics of canning in a nutshell. Hopefully, you will see that it is not as onerous a task as you might think.

Experience Develops Confidence

I used to think that canning was really, really hard and I dreaded the late summer as I would have to begin canning the harvest. That was years ago. After the first couple of years, it became second nature to me. You can get there as well. When canning peas, beans, carrots, corn, greens and so on, the steps are the same. The time to hold the jars at pressure is the only thing that changes. I simply bring out the Ball canning book and check the time for the vegetable I’m canning.

The steps are simple for cold pack canning. That means the vegetables are not cooked or otherwise heated. The jars are supposed to be heated, but I never actually do that.

Step One – Get Your Equipment Ready

Step one is getting your equipment ready.

The Canner

I set up the canner on the stovetop, fill it with three quarts of water or just enough to have about an inch and a half of water from the bottom of the canner. I add about a tablespoon of vinegar to the water. It can be detrimental to the rings, making them rust, but it makes keeping the inside of the canner clean a breeze. That’s a tip I picked up a couple of years ago. The inside of my canner had become dark and discolored. Then I saw a canning video on YouTube and the Youtuber added vinegar to prevent that. I started doing that and my canner now looks like new inside.

Anyway, get the canner set up. I turn the burner on low and slowly heat that water and vinegar. It will be just about at a boil by the time I get everything else done.

The Jars

Prepare the jars. That means making sure they are free of cracks and knicks at the rim. They need to be clean and sterilized. Lots of folks immerse them in boiling water, I use bleach water. It’s faster and that means a lot to me. The canning is not hard to do but it can be time consuming waiting for this to boil and that to boil and so on. If using soapy bleach water to clean and sanitize my jars is not safe, someone let me know in the comments, along with why. My mom used to put her jars on a baking sheet and stick them in the oven for a few minutes. That was her method of sterilization.

Large Pot of Boiling Water

You will also need a large pot of boiling water to pour over the vegetables once they are in the jars. Go ahead and prepare that now. There is no set amount. Guessing is my method there. Twelve quart-jars filled to the brim will hold three gallons. The peas take up lots of space so I figured no more than a cup or two of water per quart jar of peas would be plenty. In the end, I used less than a gallon and a half of boiling water for 14 jars of peas.

Canner set up, jars cleaned and sterile, water to pour over the veggies. Equipment is all set up.

Step Two – Prepare the vegetables

Step two is getting your vegetables ready. For canning peas, that means shelling them out and cleaning them up. That has been the hardest part so far. It was much harder than shelling them out. That just takes time. Getting the little bits of shells, twigs and leaves out was a real challenge.

Step Three – Fill the Jars, Put Lids in Place

The next step is filling the jars. Oops! Almost forgot. Add salt if you desire. I always do. One half teaspoon for pints and one teaspoon for quarts. Again, it’s the same for all vegetables. That’s why this gets easy. After a while you don’t even have to think about it.

Add salt to the bottom of the jar. Loosely fill the jar with vegetables, don’t pack them. I fill mine to just below one inch of headspace below the rim.

Next fill each jar with boiling water to one inch below the rim. I’m making sure the veggies are covered under the hot water.

Wipe the rims with a damp paper towel or washcloth. Place the lid and ring. Screw lid on to finger tight. Put the jar in the canner. After all jars are in place, put the canner lid in place and secure it according to manufacturers instructions.  

Step Four – Bring the Canner up to Pressure and Start Timing

Now that everything is in place, turn up the heat on the burner. Leave off the pressure gauge. That’s the big weight that lets you identify when the proper pressure has been reached. Because I have the analog reading on my big canner, I use the 10-pound pressure gauge. It will actually come up to about 12 or 13 pounds of pressure before that gauge starts dancing and letting out steam. It should dance around a few times each minute. More than that, and you have too much pressure. Turn down the heat.

Once I get that dancing pressure gauge, I turn down my heat to medium low. That is three on my stovetop dial. After doing a few batches, you will know exactly where to set your stovetop to maintain the proper pressure. Again, mine is at three. Set your timer for the recommended amount of time. For quart jars of canned peas the Ball Canning book says 40 minutes at the recommended pressure for your altitude.

Step Five – Remove the Jars

When the timer goes off, turn off the heat and wait until the pressure gauge has completely returned to 0. If you don’t have the analog dial, what you will have is a pressure relief button. Once the button falls back to its resting position, the pressure is zero. If you are ever in doubt, just wait 15 more minutes.

Remove the Gauge

Once the pressure has returned to zero, remove the gauge. Some steam may come out still. Do not do the “quick release” like you would do with your InstaPot. Let the pressure return to normal without any help. If the pressure comes down too quickly, the water will bubble up out of the jar. You will lose liquid leaving your veggies partially out of the liquid and you may have jars that do not seal well if bits of the veggies got under the lid. Let all return to normal naturally.

Remove and Cool the Jars

After removing the gauge, a waiting five minutes to ensure all pressure is normalized, remove the lid. Using the special tool for removing jars from the canner, gently place each jar on a towel or wooden cutting board. Do not adjust the lids. Let them cool naturally.

At this point you are all done. And what a great job you did. Once the jars are completely cooled, label them and store them with your other canned foods.

Final Thoughts

That’s it for today podcast. I hope you enjoyed hanging out with the animals on the homestead. Sharing it all with you is a blessing for me and I hope it is for you as well.

I boiled the steps of canning down to five. Get your equipment set up, prepare your vegetables, fill the jars and place the lids, bring your canner up to pressure, and then a proper cool-down afterwards. That’s it! I hope I’ve inspired you to give canning a try if you haven’t already. And I know you probably have lots of questions if you are just starting out. Feel free to contact me if you would like me to answer your questions. I’d love to assist you in developing your homestead skills.

If you enjoyed this podcast, please hop over to Apple Podcasts or whatever podcasting service you use, SUBSCRIBE and give me a 5-star rating and review. If you like this content and want to help out the show, the absolute best way you can do that is to share it with any friends or family who might be interested in this type of content. Let them know about the Peaceful Heart Farmcast.

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Check out this episode!

[inarichi]

Free Writing 4.0

Cream & Sugar. 1.5k w.

There’s a man who walks into his cafe’ at precisely noon every single day. He orders his coffee black with no cream or sugar. Just a simple coffee, no croissants or muffins to go along with the hot liquid. His face is beyond attractive, a shapely jawline with midnight hair. His eyes are dark brown almonds that hold no compassion. He’d be more appealing if that permanent scowl on his face were to turn into a smile. His clothes are always dark, as though bright colors are toxic. Yet, the tone of his skin is a dashing contrast against such shades, consequently making him glow. He’s a gorgeous mystery hidden inside the shadows of loneliness.

“That’ll be $2.69, sir.” Kyungsoo says. The man places three dollar bills on the counter and quickly walks towards the exit.

“Your change!” He shouts at the customer only to receive a cold shoulder in response. The bell chimes as the man takes his leave and Kyungsoo sighs while pocketing the extra change.

“Forget about it Soo, I just don’t think he’s that into you.” Jongdae, the baker and manager, pats him on the back out of pity. Kyungsoo clicks his tongue.

“Hey! I never said I was into him!” He shakes off Jongdae’s palm, and the baker smiles deviously.

“Boss, everyone knows you like him, stop being in denial.” He snickers at the surprised look on Kyungsoo’s face.

“I’ll fire you all!” He shouts.

“You couldn’t fire me if you wanted to. Who would be here to cheer you on? Fighting!” Jongdae bottles up a fist and pumps it into the air.

“Put a lid on it, will you? Get back to work.” Kyungsoo shakes his head. He silently curses himself for letting the others know his feelings so easily.

He’s not a very stoic person, wearing his heart on his sleeves. Romance and love have always been interesting topics to the cafe owner. Yet, he doesn’t attempt relationships anymore due to his previous one. That affair ended in chaos with a cheating partner who used him for his wealth and took advantage of him. Forgiveness was difficult to yield as that very man sought no remorse and felt what he did was justified.

Love is scary. It doesn’t guarantee a happy ending with marriage or kids, being that he’s homosexual. Society knows no bounds on ridiculing those who are different and finding someone who is willing to fight the odds is nearly impossible. 

Life is a monotonous tick of a grandfather clock. The same things happen everyday as though being played on a loop, a repeatable cycle.

The clock stopped ticking when the mysterious man walked into his cafe for the first time. Kyungsoo took interest in him instantly. After being single for three consecutive years, turning down numerous blind dates and ignoring his parents pleas for an arranged marriage, he’s finally found someone who he finds an attraction to. Albeit, a man who seemingly wants nothing to do with other people. Yet, what could he do? The heart wants what it wants.

“Aye boss, have you seen Lu? I want him to taste this new drink I made.” Sehun, the barista, asks while holding up a beige mug.

“Luhan should be out making deliveries. And why don’t you let me taste it?”

“Your reactions are too stale.” Sehun deadpans.

“Give me that.” Kyungsoo grabs the mug from his hand and takes a sip of the hot liquid. After tasting it, he nods his head slowly. Sehun rolls his eyes.

“See what I mean.” He says, and Kyungsoo shrugs.

“It’s disgusting. But I figured it would be, I only hired you because you’re my cousin.”  He says, before heading through the double doors to the kitchen. Sehun takes a sip of his own horrible mixture and smirks.

The piquant aroma of freshly baked croissants wafts Kyungsoo’s nose and his mouth begins to salivate. Jongdae’s baked goods are the pride and glory of his small cafe. People from all over Seoul come especially to buy his flavorful croissants with a special creamy butter topping.

“Smells good in here, when will the next batch be ready?” Kyungsoo asks.

“In about 10 minutes. Oh! I’ve been meaning to ask. Are we accepting new applicants?” Jongdae swipes his fingers on his apron before reaching into his back pocket for a folded sheet of paper. “Someone gave me their resume and I could use an assistant these days.”

“Stop being lazy and you wouldn’t need one.”

“Seriously Soo, I get swamped around rush hour and just the four of us isn’t enough. Having a fifth member would be a huge help.”

Kyungsoo ponders for a brief moment, his eyes roam the white tiled ceiling. “Alright, I suppose it wouldn’t be a bad idea. Let me see the resume.” Jongdae hands him the paper and he reads over the typed words carefully. “So his name is Baekhyun and he’s a pâtissier? Seems he has worked in many high-end places...Why would he want to work here?”

“Don’t know, but it can’t hurt to call him in for an interview or something.” Jongdae says with a charming smile, knowing all too well that he’s convinced Kyungsoo. His boss is gullible and easily swayed.

“Okay. I’ll call him in tomorrow.”

The door violently swings open revealing a disturbed looking Luhan whose face is a shade of purple with hands clapped over his mouth as if he’s about to hurl. He sprints past the two in the kitchen and into the small bathroom near the back. Nauseating gags and dry heaves fill in the unanticipated silence. After two minutes of nonstop moaning and groaning, the bathroom door inches open.

“Do not ever taste anything Sehun makes. It’s the Devil in a mug.” Luhan leans against the wall and slides down to sit on the floor. Kyungsoo and Jongdae share knowing glances before bursting into laughter.

Kyungsoo crouches down and hands him a glass of water. “He only does it to get a reaction out of you, stop drinking his concoctions. You’ll really die one day.” He stands to his feet.

“I just can’t say no…” Luhan hangs his head as a faint blush forms on his cheeks. “I don’t know how.”

“Oh, Oh! Does our Luhan have a crush?” Jongdae grins.

The faint rosiness on Luhan’s cheeks grows into a blazing red. He’s been in love with Sehun since the day they met. He thought being a Barista was cool, and Sehun made the job look effortless. When they met, they got acquainted fairly easy with Sehun’s outgoing nature to compensate for his shy disposition.

“Maybe…” Luhan whispers as he stands from the ground wiping at his bottom.

“I don’t see how anyone could like Sehun.” Kyungsoo says.

“You say that because he’s your cousin. But he’s a real fine piece of as--”

“You’re fired!” Kyungsoo interjects and stomps towards the front to man the register.

“You can’t fire me!” Jongdae yells after him. A moment passes while he watches his boss leave. “Shit! The croissants!”

***

The bell chimes alerting Kyungsoo of a new customer. He looks up from the register and spies the mysterious man dressed in all black. His trench coat is rather light and his hair is styled back looking refined with an air of sophistication.

Kyungsoo’s fingers dance over the numbers, his anxiety getting the better of him. The man is looking rather dashing today and his mind can’t seem to stay professional. He only stops daydreaming when the sound of a throat clearing reaches his ears.

“I’m sorry...” Kyungsoo bows slightly and adjusts his apron. “One coffee, black coming right up.” He begins typing in the order.

“Actually, I would like to try the muffins today.” The man says. Kyungsoo smiles. This is rather surprising. 

“Sure, would you still like the coffee as well?” The man sternly nods his head.

“My name is Jongin, Kyungsoo.” He says, and Kyungsoo forgets how to breathe. That smile stretches further, making his eyes form small crescents. 

Jongin, he could finally put a name to that gorgeous face.

“Nice to formally meet you, Jongin.”

Jongdae peeps the situation through the small window situated inside the double doors to the kitchen. Luhan attempts to walk past him heading towards the cash register until a hand yanks him backward.

“What?” Luhan asks, confused.

“Love is in the air young grasshopper.” Jongdae says, eyeing the two in the front who are absorbed in each other’s presence. Luhan mouths “oh” and stays behind the door to spy on them as well.

All of their efforts are for nothing when Sehun comes through the front entrance and calls for Kyungsoo, breaking the two from their intense stare. The cafe owner clears his throat, embarrassed of his apparent gawking.

“Have a nice day.” He says, and Jongin nods his head once again.

After Jongin takes his leave, Jongdae abruptly bursts through the double doors sending Luhan stumbling forward. The baker smacks the back of Sehun's head with ultimate force, and he flinches away.

“What was that for?!” Sehun asks while rubbing his head.

“Your timing is simply impeccable.” Jongdae grunts and heads back inside the kitchen, shaking his head.

“What's wrong with him?”

Luhan shrugs. “Love was in the air.”

[dreaming-flutterby]

Perk-O-Late

A Captain Swan Coffee Shop Modern AU

Rated M (because they just can’t help themselves!)

Emma Swan didn’t do cute. Not even a little bit. So the fact that she’d changed her routine over the past four weeks to grab her morning drink from the newly-opened and absurdly-named Perk-O-Late had nothing to do with the designs dusted on top of the frothy drinks. Nope. No way. Hot chocolate with cinnamon dusted across the surface in the shape of - yes, fine, a freakin’ swan - was not why she’d jumped - completely without reason - into a monogamous relationship with the new cafe. And obviously, her immediate devotion to this place had less than nothing to do with the barista who greeted her each morning. The (fucking hot) barista who handed the steaming cup to her each day had NO impact on her choice to exclusively patronize the newest local establishment. She was merely being a team player, ingratiating herself (finally) to a place that felt like...well, that felt like...home. And if the black-haired blue-eyed man who gave her a smirk nearly as (or maybe a bit more?) delicious than her morning cocoa had even a bit of an influence on her morning choices, well...no one really needed to know that, now did they?

CHAPTER 1

Killian Jones was beyond intrigued.

Eyes were supposed to be blue or brown or green or hazel. They weren’t supposed to burn a perpetual flame-green or settle into a nearly black haze when darkening with...something. (Desire, gods above, he bloody hoped it was desire that was shading her eyes when she peered directly into his soul while simply ordering a hot - oh, fuck yes, a hot beverage on his morning shift. And okay, fine, if he moved to having nothing more than a tall glass of ice cold water after he saw her each day, well, who cared? Hydration was very important to him. Oh, yes...hydration was very important to maintain certain...abilities… Oh, gods, he couldn’t begin to consider what his thoughts meant...)

Or, you know, maybe she just really liked her morning cocoa. The particular recipe they used at Perk-O-Late was spectacular, if he did say so himself. He was in no way expressing his healthy ego in that sentiment. While he and his dimples and blue eyes and (just a tad too) unbuttoned shirts were a major draw to bring in the interested young women - and old women, if he’s being truthful - it was the quality of the beverages and pastries that kept people returning the cafe. While his sister-in-law Elsa had been well-past worried that another cafe wouldn’t thrive in the tiny, already well-caffeinated town of Storybrooke, her family had been able to convince her that her venture would be successful since she’d be providing inarguably the best products for the tiny hamlet and its surrounding areas. And while it may be true that they’d been open to the public less than a month, the immediate surge of customers from the moment Elsa had flipped the sign to “Welcome!” seemed to be an accurate prediction for the days, weeks, and years ahead. In short, Perk-O-Late was already a booming business, bound to become a Storybrooke staple as it dug in its roots with warm muffins, strong coffee, and unique combinations of both the baked and brewed varieties.

It certainly helped that it was almost entirely a family affair. Elsa was not only the primary baker and drink magician, but she was also co-owner. Her partner in the business was her husband, one Liam Jones who’d managed to rope his little (“oi, how many times do I have to tell you -- it’s younger?”) brother into working behind the counter during the cooler months when the KJ Nautical Excursion tour boat company’s business dwindled. Killian found some relief in knowing that he wasn’t the only sibling who’d been recruited; Elsa’s sister, Anna, was the primary server/cashier/ray of sunshine. While Anna’s outgoing personality could be overwhelming at times, her fiance Kristoff, the delivery/maintenance man, was there to calm her down when she was overcome by the tsunami of personality. They’d also been lucky to get relatively cheap labor in two hardworking teenagers, Henry and Violet. (And it didn’t hurt that they were clearly crushing hard on one another, so they were always eager to grab extra hours at minimum wage...as long as the other would be there, of course.)

So at the end of each day, Killian genuinely recognized the ties that were binding him to his part-time work: devotion to family, belief in the product, and a desire to bring small bit of happiness to each and every consumer (and if he wanted to bring a large bit of happiness to one particular consumer, well, no one really needed to know that, now did they?)

*****************************************************

“Uh, Emma?”

The unusually reserved greeting of one Mary-Margaret Nolan threw Emma off her stride. She’d been walking into the office building with her typical swagger, her typical bravado, when the tiny woman with the delicate features and close-cropped mahogany hair stopped her with all the elegance of a freight train. Mary-Margaret was nothing if not, well, obnoxiously polite and sweet and accommodating. So the fact that she was suddenly a vocal connoisseur of Emma’s preferred morning beverage was more than a little off-putting.

Emma skidded (like, honestly, her boots squeaked against the pretentiously shiny flooring) to a stop, thrown off-kilter by the underwhelmingly calm intrusion of her friend.

(And no, ok? Her typical strut was NOT interrupted by her continual thoughts of a particular customer-service wizard, the absolutely gorgeous man who’d been handing her a cup of cocoa for nearly a month with a smile that bordered on dangerous and eyes that defied any rational definition of the word blue because, honestly, no one in real life actually looked like that, you know? So...so what if she was a bit distracted? Only because it was unnatural and weird and not at all because she had any interest in dropping her panties to hand to him as a daily tip...nope, nopity-nope.)

“Hey, Mary-Margaret. What’s up?” If she’d been going for casually cool, she’d failed in the most dramatic of ways.

Mary-Margaret grinned, yet had the grace not to call her out (yet...they both knew it was

only a matter of time). “Sorry, hon, I didn’t mean to distract you.” Liar. Yes she did. They both knew it. “I just wanted to make sure that you remembered we’re having dinner tomorrow night at our house. David has been going on and on about missing his deputy ever since she jumped ship to work for an investigative newspaper.”

Emma laughed, appreciating Mary-Margaret’s delicate (for her) foray into the topic. “Is that right? I suppose it has nothing to do with the fact that his little sister is taking a different path than the one traditionally followed by the Nolans, hm?”

Mary-Margaret giggled, biting her lip to hold back any of the more aggressive comments David (Emma’s brother...Mary-Margaret’s husband…did either distinction really matter..?) had made about the situation. “Oh, Emma...you know he’s proud of you no matter what, right? It’s just, well,” Mary-Margaret bit her lip before going on, “I think he always expected that things would work a bit differently with you.”

At those words, Emma deflated. “So he thought I’d fall in line just like all the rest of them? Is that right?” Emma tried to avoid it, but she couldn’t help the way that her armor immediately began to creep its way across her.

“Oh, Emma, no, it’s not that at all!” Mary-Margaret reassured. “David loves you. He considers you family -- no question. And he doesn’t want you to feel defensive; he wants you to feel safe.”

At those words, Emma allowed herself to feel. To genuinely feel. And if she pulled an extra bit of strength from the reassurance provided by Mary-Margaret and the deliciously calming feeling provided by the most incredible hot chocolate she’d ever tasted, that was fine. (And if the sinfully yummy man who’d handed her that hot chocolate made a difference, well, who was she to argue?)

[thedancingnerdmermaid]

Shower Duet

Characters: Chris Evans x Reader

Chapter: Oneshot

Warnings: none really

Notes: Mostly dialogue. So this is just random. First thing i’ve written in a long time. Since FanFic Fridays ended maybe. Hope you all enjoy.

What a day! All you could think about was a long hot shower while relaxing to your "Singing in the Rain" playlist; a playlist you created of your favorite ones to belt out in the shower. You were so thankful that you worked overnight shifts so you could have all the hot water to yourself and not have to fight the rest of the apartment complex for it at two in the afternoon. About five minutes into your shower, when you’re in the middle of rapping it out Beyonce’s “Upgrade You”, the water goes from melt the skin off your bones hot to lukewarm.

"Damnit! Is it too much to ask to have all the hot water to myself once in awhile? The water system in this place fucking sucks!!" You shouted with your middle fingers raised. Of course no one could see of hear you so it was pointless but it kinda helped nonetheless .

"Sorry!" You heard faintly as the beads of water filled your ears while you were washing out your conditioner. Turning down the music, you looked around outside the curtain, “Must be hearing things." You mumbled to yourself as you decided to turn the water off and get something to eat. Grabbing your towel you turned your Spotify off. However you till heard singing. A deep sultry voice was singing the song you had just turned off. After that verse, it got really quiet; whoever it was had just realized that the music had stopped. You failed at stifling a giggle.

"Im that bad?" He shouted.

“No,... no... I just...." you couldn't stop laughing long enough to finish your sentence.

"What's your name?" He shouted again.

"Y/N." you shouted back, "what's yours?"

"Chris." He bellowed, "so we've never met but our showers are on opposite sides of the same apartment wall so sometimes we're showering at the same time and sing duets."

You were stunned. You were never a religious person but it was in that moment that you silently prayed to anyone that was listening that if he had heard you singing before, that he had not over heard any of your other shower activities.

"Umm okay? This is kind of..."

"Weird." He finished your sentence for you.

"Yeah... uh okay. Well bye. I guess?" You were unsure of what to do at this point.

"Wait! Do you want to have lunch with me? I just ordered a pizza! Your singing voice is beautiful, I'd like to talk to you some more. But in person. Ugh I feel like I'm just talking to a wall."

Bursting into to laughter, "wow really? I was considering it but that pun though."

He laughed, "it was punintentional, I wasn't sure if you were still there."

"Punintentional? Oh my god." You tried not to laugh and failed.

"Please have lunch with me? I'd hate to have to continue with the puns."

"Okay, okay. I guess. But only because pizza is life." You laughed, "give me like 5 minutes."

 You raced to you room to get dressed. You never usually cared about what your wore but at this moment you were trying to figure out what was good attire for a first meeting/ date with someone you've never met but apparently sing shower duets with. You decided on a simple t-shirt and a pair of denim shorts. You slipped on your flip flops and ran a brush through your hair, put on some deodorant because holy hell you were nervous." At least I shaved." You thought to yourself. A spray of your favorite perfume and you were heading for the door. Reaching your hand up to knock, you jumped when the door opened before you could touch it. You knew it would probably be polite to speak and say hi but you were a bit stunned. Standing in front of you was your celebrity crush. How the hell is he more handsome in person? How is that even possible? He was the first to speak.

 "Hi, Y/N. I'm Chris." He stuck out his hand and you took it, "Wait, but you already knew that. I don't really know the protocol here and that's why I’m babbling like an idiot instead of letting you respond, I’m sorry, come-in."

You giggled slightly and stepped inside. The apartment was just opposite of yours.

"It's okay, Chris, I don’t really know what to say either." Chris liked the way his name sounded from your lips he thought to himself.

"Want a beer? Pizza should be here soon."

You sat down at the small kitchen table, "Huh, pizza and beer before three in the afternoon, not bad Evans."

He smiled, "So you recognized me?"

"Well yeah I’m tone-deaf not blind."

He belted out in laughter, "You’re not tone-deaf. You're voice is amazing!"

"I didn't think anyone would be home during the day. I also certainly didn't know that you were my neighbor!"

"You're blushing."

"Stop it. You're not supposed to point that out."

"Sorry. I'm not usually here. I mainly stay in L.A. But I'm from Boston, so this is my apartment when I come home. I just got done filming for Infinity War so I’m off for a few months." He smiled as he noticed your eyes get big.

"Infinity War?!?! I'm so fucking excited to see that. Sorry not sorry that I’m a huge Marvel nerd."

"It's okay. I'm your favorite hero right? Please tell me you're 'Team Capt' or I might have to take back that pizza offer."

"Sorry, Widow is my favorite."

"Okay, okay fair enough, she's a badass. And I mean technically she becomes 'Team Capt' so I guess you can stay for lunch."

 You both laughed and there was a knock on the door. He winked at you as he went to the door. He kicked the door shut with his foot after paying the delivery guy.

"It's a supreme pizza. Hope that's okay."

"My favorite actually."

He brought the pizza and two plates to the table, "So you know a little bit about me, tell me about you."

"Holy anxiety batman. I know it's necessary in the beginning by I hate small talk."

"Well that I can definitely relate to."

"Well my name is Y/N Y/L/N, I’m a (your star sign) though I don't read too much into star signs, I love all music, as you are probably well aware, I love animals I’m a server and this pizza is amazing."

"Well done not bad. My name is Chris Evans, I’m a Gemini, I also don't read too much into it, I love your taste in music and I think all pizza is amazing."

You both laughed. "Well that takes care of that. How about something else, like where do you see yourself in five years?"

He took a sip of his beer. "Good one. Uh I hope to still be working. Hopefully I'll be married or on track to be and id like a few more dogs."

"Dogs are awesome."

"You are a dog person not a cat person, then?"

"All I can tell you is I am not a people person." He smiled and looked over at you. "Don't get me wrong," you continued, I find people fascinating. You know? Like why they are the way they are. I love different cultures. I love being around small groups of people or one on one but I’m not big on large crowds. Even when it's just a small group of people I need to be alone to recharge, I guess is a good term for it"

"That makes perfect sense. I'm the same way." 

You two talked and drank for hours like it was the easiest thing in the world. And it was. The conversations were about every topic imaginable. Talking to him was almost comforting. Even the silences between you were comfortable and not awkward. Unfortunately you noticed the clock behind you read 7:00pm and knew that you needed to get to bed for work tomorrow. But you didn't want to leave. Chris apparently noticed you frown.

 "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's just, it's getting late. I should probably go."

Chris's eyebrows dew together as he looked at the clock. "It's 7:00pm? That's hardly late." He thought maybe you just wanted to leave.

"It is when you work the overnight shifts. I'm a server and the diner is 24/7."

"Oh wow, I had no idea. Is the food good there?" He asked hoping to continue talking to you.

"Well we don't have pizza," you laughed, "but it's not bad. I'm sorry but I do need to go or I'll be dead on my feet."

Chris smiled, "well then, I shall walk you home."

You laughed and rolled your eyes playfully. "Well damn, chivalry is not dead." You winked, "Thank you for lunch and uh dinner too I guess."

"Anytime. Actually, same time tomorrow? We can have whatever you want!"

 You leaned up and kissed his bearded cheek. "Sounds great, Chris. I'll cook and you can make the long trip over to my place."

"That sounds great, I haven’t had a home cooked meal in so long. See you then."

 He kissed your cheek and you headed inside and slowly closed the door behind you. You decided to look out the peep hole of your door. There he was smiling to himself as he turned and headed back to his apartment. Your heart was beating so fast. All you could think was about how tomorrow would go.

 ****Let me know what you think

XoXo

[itstherene]

20/20 Vision

I started writing this 5 days before the end of 2019 with an intro of "It's 5 days before the end of the decade and there's so much memories and information to distill just so I can personally tie a ribbon on this year's whirlwind of an adventure." but it's about five days into the new decade and I just posted this.

Reality is, I'm overwhelmed whenever I look back on the past year because so much has changed. That includes myself on so many fronts. The goals that I set intentionally last 2018 on where I want to steer my life for the next five years was literally derailed this year. I'm very afraid of looking into the future because I'm scared of setting goals again for them to be derailed. I was fragile and struggled to survive.

However, I want 2020 to be awesome so I'm sitting myself down to continue what I started.

"But did you die tho?!"

There were too many transformations that happened last year. Some of them were deliberately initiated by me, some were forced upon me. But what I did was just to do the next right thing.

Some of the deliberate changes I made are decluttering my instagram profile(finally!), going on a Facebook and Twitter hiatus, and going freelance(as a result of a forced change). These forced changes include my old supervisor being let go and ending a relationship I worked so hard for. I lost my footing for a bit but I'm still here and writing this out so it must mean I've survived, right?

A few posts ago, I moped around the failure of my 2019. All the goals I've set for myself at the beginning of the year didn't make it to the end of the year. I felt like my life ended and I was so lost just because what I thought was a foolproof plan just failed altogether.

Looking back now, I recognize I was probably being overly dramatic. I just didn't know what to do so everything felt hopeless. I am better now. I'm writing this at the comfort of my home using the laptop that my client gave me and work has flexible times. I am happy with this arrangement.

I intend to stay happy as in I'm hoping that the decisions I made to prepare myself for the next year is enough to keep me happy. I am hoping to continue working freelance so I can have the flexibility and freedom to pursue my goals. I also chose to continue living far away from home for the most of the year for my mental health. At this moment, I am no longer in a relationship and I don’t intend to pursue one this coming year.

I’m contented with where I am now but I want to achieve more knowing that I am capable of being more. I’ve made a lot of decisions this year that I hope will help make 2020 better than my 2019. I feel that I’ve also recovered a bit from my 2018. Yes, two years ago. Recovery hasn’t been easy but I intend to be better.

What Next?

Setting goals can get quite overwhelming. No matter how many times I do it or how many ways these productivity gurus teach it, not one fits according to my life. That’s perfectly fine, I think. We live our lives differently and we all have different priorities. Sometimes we have the same priorities but different ways of getting it done. It is what it is. What's important is we figure out what works for us.

For me, I've decided to put my goals into three major categories: finance, health, and well-being. They sound like very adulting topics but I’m 28 now so I definitely need to be working on those categories. I'm going to take this one year at a time but I do hope I'll be able to carry it on to the next few years.

Finance

Gradually pay off debt and then save - I made very rash decisions on purchases that I accumulated a bit of debt. It’s not that I’m not capable of not paying it off but for some time, they weren’t my priorities. It’s high time I start paying it so it doesn’t bloat to gargantuan amount.

Make most use of my investments including paid subscriptions - there are investments that I made this year that I hoped that would help me progress and grow. They are supposed to but I have not made the most out of them. I want to be able to take advantage of these investments so it doesn’t feel like I’m just bleeding money out of me.

Create redundancies - at the moment, I am being compensated enough for my lifestyle but I know that I need to create redundancies so I don’t become so fragile when things don’t go accordingly. This is also to help save up and maybe start my own sustainable business before I turn 30.

Health

Buy a fridge so I can eat healthier - I didn't buy a fridge because getting delivery or eating out has been quite convenient in my living situation but I realized this year, a fridge would be a good investment into better health. I'll be able to buy produce in bulk and prolong their lives compared to when I had to go buy groceries every week.

Start low intensity exercise including gardening - I have accepted that my asthma and acid reflux are permanent obstacles to my life now. It's a bit late to undo those now but I can at least manage them with healthier lifestyle. As much as I want to swim as exercise, there's no pool close and cheap enough to my apartment. I also bought a yoga mat for meditation last year. I have a weighing scale too but I wasn't able to keep up with meditation and weight management last year. At least I've started it, it's a matter of making it stick this year. I've also decided to start my own herb garden. I'm not entirely confident if I can grow a full urban garden but I have a balcony with empty water bottles I can create self-watering planters with. It will require a bit of labor so it should be somewhat equivalent to a low intensity exercise. Just like the Japanese did it.

Drink water, bitch - I swear I've so many apps that come with keep track of water intake. Even my phone has it. Despite that, I haven't really established the habit of drinking water consistently. I might need to subscribe to a weekly water refilling service so there's that. I have started it too but like above, it's a matter of making it stick.

Mental Health

Hobbies are healthy - play Stardew Valley, learn photography, read books, write stories, paint more. Hobbies provide respite from the daily hustle. I just need to remind myself not to drown in them since I tend to overwhelm myself. Just please don't overwhelm yourself. I'm not going to drop dead tomorrow so there's no point on cramming everything into a 24-hour day. Even if I do die tomorrow, I've done enough things in my life to fill up an achievement book. It is time to slow down.

Clean ten minutes a day - my physical space is closely linked to my mental well-being.  I like cleaning for that reason but I tend to do it in bulks which gets tiring really fast. Instead of having a full productive day, I end up spending half a day cleaning then passing out the rest of the day. I live alone so I should be able to clean my space for 10 minutes per day. Deep cleaning should be reserved for once a month.

Daily Stoic - I found this ebook last year that's basically a stoicisim challenge. I've always been fascinated with stoicism because I'm an emotionally intense person(hello, Scorpies). I'm looking into managing my emotions better so that changes don't push me into panic mode whenever it happens. I believe stoicism might also be key to lesser anxiety attacks for me.

Staying on track

There's quite a lot to keep track so I have few tools to help me with. I decided I'll only be using three analogue system but various digital tools. This is to lessen clutter in my small space. I'm also looking into making the most use of my iPad. Not just for entertainment.

My three analogue tools are the Sunnies Agenda 2020 for monthly and weekly schedule, Kairu silver kisses notebook for collecting ideas, and an old sketchbook for ephemeras. I know that the uses of these tools can also be digitized but I deliberately bought these things to motivate me into planning. Even the pen(M&G Office G 0.5 in black) I'm using is to motivate me to write. I'm keeping it to three tools so I don't get overwhelmed, too.

My digital tools are a mess. As much as I want to use Notion for everything, there are some functionality on other apps that are more helpful such as Habitica's gamifying daily habits and Grid Diary with its journaling prompts. I also want to make use of Diaro and Goodnotes since I paid for those. Diaro has a built in mood tracker and Goodnotes lets me handwrite notes. I'll be using my phone's Jovi assistant for water tracking, Asana Rebel for yoga, 30-day fitness for nutrition, and Headspace for meditation. My tools are all over the place but I haven't build a system that would allow me to have it all without the hassle of set up.

2020 feels like a big year to tackle. I can conquer it and make it amazing or just go with the flow and have a mediocre year. I don't want to set a lot of things in stone because I'm afraid life will come crashing in like a wrecking ball again but I want my actions to at least lead to something productive. Here's to hoping.-T

[drippeddaily]

Album of the Year #11: Kendrick Lamar - DAMN.

Album of the Year #11: Kendrick Lamar - DAMN.

Artist: Kendrick Lamar

Album: DAMN.

Listen:

Spotify

Apple Music

Tidal

Google Play Music

Background by /u/King_CornShucker

As the dust settled following one of the most important hip-hop releases in recent years (2015’s To Pimp A Butterfly), all eyes were on Kendrick Lamar. This jazz and funk infused masterwork was both socio politically fierce and introspectively vulnerable, typifying Kendrick’s (familiarly) conflicting nature. The album’s strength spilled into the subsequent year’s untitled, unmastered., an EP of compiled demos originating during the recording sessions of TPAB. Together, these works established what Lamar had been working on perfecting since 2011’s Section.80. and 2012’s good kid, m.A.A.d city: his ability to craft a lyrically impressive body of work dense with storytelling and concepts begging for repeat-listens.

But as Kendrick said in his late-2016 interview with Rick Rubin, “It will always have some type of DNA in my music. But me as a person and just knowing who I am, I grow, I’m like a chameleon.” And nobody knew what to expect, especially after producer Syk Sense called the beats in consideration “some of the hardest shit I’ve heard.” He also described the sounds saying, “It’s not like the jazzy tape you would think, it’s like...fucking Memphis. It’s LA, it’s Memphis.” In an interview with The New York Times, Kendrick prefaced the topics he was exploring by saying, “We’re in a time where we exclude one major component out of this whole thing called life: God.”

But all the guessing was suddenly interrupted by the March release of “The Heart Part 4”, an exciting single concluding with the line, “Y’all got ‘til April the 7th to get y’all shit together”. The day came and Kendrick Lamar’s fourth studio album was available for preorder. It was soon announced to be DAMN., a fourteen-track album featuring Rihanna, Zacari, and U2, as well as a talented line-up of producers such as Mike WiLL Made-It, The Alchemist, and 9th Wonder.

Review by /u/King_CornShucker

The album begins(?) with “BLOOD.”, an eerie introduction where Kendrick tells a story over a mellow instrumental produced by Bēkon and Top Dawg. Bēkon’s bone-chilling vocals kick off the song, offering what seemingly comes to be the album’s thesis,

Is it wickedness? Is it weakness? You decide. Are we gonna live or die?

These lines carry a listener-hooking sense of mystery that leads into the story. To summarize, Kendrick is taking a walk when he encounters a frustrated blind woman who appears to be looking for something. Soon, he decides to help but is then killed by the woman as a result. This macabre climax is abruptly concluded by a gunshot. While “BLOOD.” is basically a bare-bones introductory skit, I believe it shows Kendrick’s ability to craft artistic brilliance beyond just rapping. A clip of FOX News reporters criticizing the lyrical content of Kendrick’s “Alright” epically transitions into “DNA.”, which is literally the hardest song I’ve ever heard. Kendrick begins by proudly listing both the good and bad in his history and heritage that makes him who he is. The entire first verse is an aggressive yet honest analysis of his personality and beliefs (“And I’m gon’ shine like I’m supposed to, antisocial extrovert”), as well as his current accomplishments (“At 29, I’ve done so well, hit cartwheel in my estate”). An intense, bass-heavy beat crafted by Mike WiLL Made-It carries on for the first verse until it halts into the bridge, featuring a clip of Geraldo Rivera condemning hip-hop’s effects on African-Americans. In response to the FOX News comments sampled here and previously on “BLOOD.” regarding “Alright”, Kendrick said this:

How can you take a song that’s about hope and turn it into hatred? The overall message is ‘we’re gonna be alright.’ It’s not the message of ‘I wanna kill people.’

This sample paired with Kendrick’s repeating of the words, “I got loyalty, got royalty inside my DNA”, bring on an incredibly aggressive and in-your-face beat switch. Kendrick’s second verse is urgent and even angrier than his first. The passionate delivery of these apocalyptic lyrics (“Tell me when destruction gonna be my fate”, “Look up in the sky, 10 is on the way, sentence on the way, killings on the way”) gives the song the feeling of a grand finale, even though it’s basically the first song. The last line of the song is “Sex, money, murder-our DNA”, saying that these sins are in our blood. It is a very intentional moment, as it helps introduce the album's biblical theme of sin, and the punishments we face because of it. Mike WiLL Made-It reportedly created the second part of the instrumental after Kendrick rapped the second verse a capella. He stated:

Just imagine him a cappella rapping the second half of “DNA.” and I had to build a beat around that. I didn’t want the beat to just sound like a regular boom-clap, boom-clap. I wanted that shit to sound just as crazy. I wanted it to sound like he’s battling the beat.

Which he clearly accomplished. Not only one of the album’s highlights, “DNA.” is in my opinion one of the best songs of Kendrick’s discography.

The next song is “YAH.”, and the first thing we hear is the album’s debut appearance of legendary DJ and rapper Kid Capri. His inclusion gives off a classic mixtape vibe, calling to mind older eras of hip-hop.

New shit, new Kung Fu Kenny

Introduced earlier on Mike WiLL’s track, “Perfect Pint”, Kung Fu Kenny is a new nickname mentioned numerous times on DAMN. whose motif is seen in videos for the album as well as other promotion and concerts. It is inspired by Don Cheadle’s character from the 2001 film, Rush Hour 2. The most noticeable thing on “YAH.” is the sudden and drastic tone change. In contrast to the previous track’s intensity and unwavering confidence, Kendrick sounds forlorn and paranoid. Kendrick is rapping slowly and melodically over strange and smooth production by Sounwave, DJ Dahi, and Top Dawg.

Buzzin’, radars is buzzin’, yah yah, yah yah, yah yah, yah yah, yah yah

This hypnotizing chorus is a bit unclear in meaning, but it seems to be about his awareness. His “radars” are detecting who is untrustworthy, which connects to the paranoid lyrics (“I got so many theories and suspicions”, “My girl told me don’t let these hoes get in my head”). “Yah” may be in reference to Yahweh, the Hebrew name of God used in the bible. In verse two he raps about struggling with temptation even though he believes God is real and curses those who are unfaithful. The repetition in the chorus could be a calling out to God for help or forgiveness. <My cousin called, my cousin Carl Duckworth said know my worth, and Deuteronomy say that we all been cursed

This is the first we hear about Deuteronomy, a book of the Bible commonly referred to by Hebrew Israelites, people of colour who believe the Israelites are their historic ancestors. Kendrick’s cousin subscribes to this belief, and we later hear him on “FEAR.” educating Kendrick on the Book of Deuteronomy, detailing the curses that await the disobedient. This is a recurring and apparent theme of DAMN, from the album and song titles to the lyrical content.

Next up is “ELEMENT.”, which reverts back to a style more reminiscent of “DNA.”.

New Kung Fu Kenny! Ain’t nobody prayin’ for me! Y’all know what happens on Earth stays on Earth!

Kid Capri kicks off another track, with some strange lines that are very recognizable at this point. He had this to say when asked about them:

To tell the truth, I never asked Kendrick the meaning of it. I said what I said and I never asked him the meaning. He told me to say that part.

I think it’s meaning is simple, saying you can’t bring anything with you when you leave Earth, whether it’s materials or relationships. When the first line of Kendrick’s verse is, “I’m willin’ to die for this shit”, following multiple repetitions of “I don’t give a fuck”, the sentiment exudes a sense of risk-it-all confidence. While the lyrical content alone on this song isn’t as conceptual as most of the tracklist, it’s still a highlight. Kendrick takes shots at his rivals and boasts his skill, sounding smooth and precise while doing it. At the end of his final verse are these lines:

Last LP I tried to lift the black artists, but it’s a difference between black artists and wack artists

His last LP To Pimp A Butterfly focused on self-love and empowering the black community. There is a much different tone on this song, where he puts his competition in their place. When asked about this line, Kendrick had this to say:

A wack artist uses other people’s music for their approval. We’re talking about someone that is scared to make their own voice, chases somebody else’s success and their thing, but runs away from their own thing. That’s what keeps the game watered-down.

James Blake, Sounwave, and Ricci Riera produced this sharp and menacing instrumental that features numerous beat changes. It perfectly pairs with Kendrick’s style throughout the song, similar to how “DNA.” sounded like a back-and-forth between Kendrick and the beat.

Kid Capri and a slowed down version of the chorus take us into the next song, “FEEL.” Another stark contrast from the song before it, this track is Kendrick’s most stripped down and painfully honest since “u”. It’s a dive into the pessimistic emotions Kendrick’s feeling, performed like the mic is his therapist.

Ain’t nobody prayin’ for me

The song starts with a sad line that is heard throughout the album. Even with all of the critical and commercial accolades, Kendrick obviously has feelings of loneliness. He gives the world all his time and energy with his music, but in his position, people are still constantly asking for something. They aren’t even close enough to be real with him, let alone pray for him.

I feel like it ain’t no tomorrow, fuck the world, the world is ending, I’m done pretending, and fuck you if you get offended

If these lyrics are any indication, Kendrick is not lying when he says he has a chip on his shoulder. During both verses on “FEEL.”, Kendrick denounces the world, going so far as to condemn his family and friends. Like “ELEMENT.”’s lyrical content, what you hear is what you get, with not much interpreting needed. But that is only to it’s benefit.

I feel like this gotta be the feeling where Pac was, the feeling of an apocalypse happening but nothing is awkward

Tupac, one of Kendrick’s biggest influences and role models, has shared the same feelings of depression, frustration, and paranoia that are expressed in “FEEL.”. He even had predictions of disaster and bloodshed at the end of Kendrick’s last album, from an interview which Kendrick said had “answers for today’s time and age”. The beat on “FEEL.” was produced by Sounwave, and features bassist Thundercat who appears on “LUST.” as well. Sampling Loopmasters' royalty-free Organic Future Hip Hop sample pack, it is a relatively simple instrumental. However, it captures the mood Kendrick was in lyrically, and is a perfect platform for him to vent over.

“LOYALTY.” is next, a radio-friendly song featuring Rihanna. It is sequenced well in the tracklist, as it is a very light track between two of the most heavy. They rap about loyalty, a quality shown to be very important to Kendrick through his career. Not only does he make sure those he surrounds himself with are trustworthy, he has made himself a good example of the trait. He is still with his fiancee, Whitney Alford, a woman Kendrick’s been dating since high school.

Tell me who you loyal to, is it anybody you would lie for, anybody you would slide for, anybody you would die for? (That’s what God for)

Kendrick said this release would be about God, but also exhibits a sense of being done with religion earlier in the album. We hear him sneak a line nearing the end of “LOYALTY.” that reminds us of Kendrick’s loyalty to God. To quote 2016’s *untitled 01”:

I made *To Pimp A Butterfly for You, told me to use my vocals to save mankind for You, say I didn’t try for You, say I didn’t ride for You

The beat was made by Terrace Martin, Sounwave, DJ Dahi, and Top Dawg. Bruno Mars’s song “24K Magic” is the sample, which DJ Dahi decided to reverse, change key, and add a third harmony to. It feels uplifting while still sounding slightly eerie and fitting in with the recurring “reverse” theme. While “LOYALTY.” is, in my opinion, the least interesting song on DAMN., it still has a lot going for it and definitely does not warrant a skip.

Bēkon kicks off another song, “PRIDE.”, a hypnotically depressing highlight of the album.

Love’s gonna get you killed, but pride’s gonna be the death of you and you and me and you and you and you and me…

Kendrick raps in this song and throughout the album about his difficulties with putting trust and love in people. But as he’s said in the past:

When are we gon’ understand we are put on earth to love?

He believes in the importance of love, but recognizes people will take advantage of this and hurt you. This 20-second intro is saying it will harm you in the flesh to extend love, but the original sin of pride could lead to damnation and the death of the spirit. Another chillingly honest track, Kendrick goes through his and the world’s imperfections, as well as the pride that’s making Kendrick bitter and numb towards people. His vocals change pitch throughout the first verse, perhaps to capture the out-of-body numbness he’s describing. The chorus of “PRIDE.” appears to be an admittance of his lack of love and empathy for others. He is cold the to the world because of his ego. As he raps about in the second verse, pride isn’t allowing him to own up to his own mistakes, so he blames others. The idea of “a perfect world” is hypothesized, and at the end of the song, Kendrick raps:

See, in a perfect world I’ll choose faith over riches, I’ll choose work over bitches, I’ll make schools out of prison, I’ll take all the religions and put ‘em all in one service, just to tell ‘em we ain’t shit, but He’s been perfect, world”

A perfect world would be completely fabricated because people will always sin. Kendrick puts God as the focal point once again, saying He is only thing people should strive for, as God is free of sin. Steve Lacy of The Internet produced the beat for “PRIDE.” on his iPhone using GarageBand. Another example of questionable production choices that lead to a sound working perfectly for Kendrick’s performance and subject matter.

“HUMBLE.”, the lead single of DAMN., is the complete antithesis of the last song. The slow, cold sound of PRIDE is opposed by the loud, quick flow of HUMBLE, with the music video even including imagery of fire. The title of the track is an interesting choice, because the lyrical content of the verses is very braggadocious and prideful. When asked by Rolling Stone if the chorus of the song (which repeats the command, “be humble”) was directed at himself, Kendrick responded:

Definitely. That’s why I did a song like that, where I just don’t give a fuck, or I’m telling the listener, “You can’t fuck with me.” But ultimately, I’m looking in the mirror.

Even with a party-friendly banger like this one, Kendrick pays attention to detail. Thematically “HUMBLE.”’s lyrics fit in with the other tracks, but in terms of tone, are a wild and boastful deviation from the majority of DAMN.’s eeriness and pessimism. The instrumental, originally meant for Gucci Mane, was produced by Mike WiLL Made-It. It features a driving, menacing piano and trap drums. After recording the song, it was agreed that it would be released on Mike WiLL’s album, Ransom 2, but Kendrick was convinced by others to keep it. It’s a good thing they did, because “HUMBLE.” is still a memorable and recognizable moment on the album.

“LUST.”, the second song named after a deadly sin, comes next. It is an examination of of lust, and critique of those living for themselves and falling into a cycle of sin.

I need some water, something came over me, way too hot to simmer down, might as well overheat

The first line in the song shows the lustful feelings (or thirst) Kendrick has. But it also introduces the spiritual side of the song. Reminiscent of “Sing About Me, I’m Dying of Thirst” from good kid, m.A.A.d city, Kendrick is using the need for water to symbolize man’s need for God. Verse 1 documents the daily routines of a man and woman and their vices. Kendrick’s delivery intentionally makes the events sound uninteresting and repetitive, in a “Groundhog Day”-esque cycle of trivial living. The second verse delves into an unexpected point of view. He criticizes those who were initially outraged about Trump’s inauguration for eventually accepting it and being silent. The bridge immediately after connects this to the theme of lust.

Lately, in James 4:4 says “Friend of the world is enemy of the Lord”

Kendrick quotes a bible verse to illustrate that accepting worldly ways and seeking worldly things is to reject God. The incredible instrumental was made by Toronto jazz and hip-hop trio BADBADNOTGOOD, Sounwave, and DJ Dahi. It’s smooth yet intense, and features a reverse drum sound similar to “Vibrate” by Andre 3000, a song with very similar subject matter.

“LOVE.” comes next, and is another contrast to the track before it. It is a relaxing and easygoing jam that is welcomed after the steamy and urgent nature of “LUST.” It features Zacari, a newcomer who was on both Ab-Soul’s and Isaiah Rashad’s latest albums. His vocals compliment the beat, making for one of the most enjoyable choruses or hooks on the album. The lyrical content is relatively simple, much like the other singer-assisted song on the album. It is Kendrick rapping melodically, most likely about his fiancee. The main producer was Teddy Walton with additional production credits to Greg Kurstin, Sounwave, and Top Dawg. Easy to digest and vibe to, “LOVE.” is a much-needed rest from the heavy substance in the tracks surrounding it.

After this comes “XXX.”, which features Irish rock legends U2 and production from DJ Dahi, Sounwave, Mike WiLL Made-It, and Top Dawg. One of the most captivating moments on DAMN., it is a three-parted rollercoaster of a song. Kendrick had this to say in an interview with Zane Lowe regarding the song.

It’s an idea of complete chaos and madness. Organized madness and controlled madness; us trying to control this madness.

It begins with Bēkon introducing one of the song’s topics: America. Then, Kendrick offers two analogies.

Throw a steak off the ark to a pool full of sharks, he’ll take it. Leave him in the wilderness with a sworn nemesis, he’ll make it.

Both are images of hunger and temptation, with the second line referencing the story in the Book of Matthew where Jesus, who had been fasting for forty days, is tempted by the devil. It is interesting to think what this imagery metaphorizes in the context of the song’s message of America’s controlled chaos and corruption. Kendrick then uses “Johnny” to personify youth in America that fall into temptation and end up in violence. This point of the song might be the most experimental on the whole album, with the beat cutting out in moments and old school hip-hop sound effects. The beat then explodes into the second part, which features sirens and heavy breathing to help visualize the rage and chaos present in Kendrick’s verse. It’s about a man whose only son was killed and calls Kendrick in drunken desperation for advice and closure. Kendrick, even though his “spirit do know better”, tells him that he would seek revenge. After the phone call, Kendrick attends a convention to talk about gun control. It is an admittance of hypocrisy, reminiscent of 2015’s “The Blacker the Berry”. In my opinion, the storytelling on this verse is more vivid and powerful than any Kendrick’s ever done. The last part of the song is relaxing and takes a broader view of the topic with an analysis of America. The beat has live sounding instruments and sounds of birds in the distance. Bono sings a bit of an esoteric chorus that concludes the track. This song is absolutely a highlight and one of Kendrick’s bests.

Speaking of highlights, “FEAR.” comes next. It begins and ends with the phone call Kendrick referred to in “YAH.”. His cousin Carl Duckworth speaks to him of his and other Hebrew Israelites beliefs, stemming from Deuteronomy 28. People of this belief commonly use this passage to explain why minorities like Africans, Latinos, and Native Americans have dealt with such hardships like slavery, poverty and disease. The inclusion of this is interesting as Kendrick doesn’t explicitly say he subscribes to this belief. I think the general message of God cursing us for our lack of faith is one Kendrick believes in, which is why it is such a central theme on the album. The concept of the song is simple, but the execution is incredible. Each of three verses has Kendrick taking the perspective of himself dealing with fear at ages of 7, 17, and then 27. At the age of 7, Kendrick felt fear from his mother’s severe threatenings. At 17, his fear was death, as the verse follows Kendrick going over hypothetical scenarios where he dies. Finally, at 27 (which happens to be the year he released To Pimp A Butterfly) his biggest fears were losing his wealth, being judged, and being forgotten. Verse 4 very neatly wraps everything up, and could have easily been the last verse on the album. He alludes to many of the song titles on the album, and summarizes his emotions as of late. The instrumental crafted by The Alchemist is, ironically; considering the song’s name, the most chill on the album. A faster version of it was momentarily present on “The Heart Part 4”. The bassline and background vocals brilliantly compliment the emotions in Kendrick’s storytelling, making for one of the best tracks on the album.

“GOD.”, which is in my opinion the strangest and most unexpected song on the album, comes next. It features a pretty simple beat by Ricc Riera, Sounwave, DJ Dahi, Cardo, Bēkon, and Top Dawg. On surface level, the song is basically a reminiscent, confident Kendrick going through his accomplishments. It has a spiritual tone of self-love and being above worldly things. But it’s eerie undertone mixed with the repeated line, “This what God feel like!” gives off a story of Lucifer vibe, which would connect to the theme of sin and pride found throughout the album. Regardless, “GOD.” is a very interesting song and one that has grown on me especially.

Concluding the album at track 14 is “DUCKWORTH.”, which is the last name of Kendrick Lamar. Originally titled, “Life is Like a Box of Chicken”, it plays as a sort of climax to the album. It’s top notch storytelling over soulful, ever-switching production of 9th Wonder. It begins with Bēkon just like “BLOOD.” did, which could play into the famous (or infamous) “reverse theory”. This theory suggesting the album has a different story (or “feel” as Kendrick said) when the tracklist is reversed lead to the recent release of *DAMN. COLLECTOR’S EDITION.”, which features, well, a reversed tracklist. The sample, Ted Taylor’s “Be Ever Wonderful”, takes us into the first verse. To summarize the story, Anthony, AKA Top Dawg, planned to rob a KFC. “Ducky”, who is Kendrick’s father, worked at this KFC and decided to give Anthony free chicken and extra biscuits. This decision caused Anthony to let him slide, which leads Kendrick hypothesize what could have been. This generosity caused a butterfly effect where Kendrick, Anthony, and Ducky “meet inside recording studios where they reaping their benefits”. It is a powerful, true story which beautifully encapsulates the message of the album. Kendrick’s hypothetical storyline where Ducky is too weak to be generous and Anthony kills Ducky out of wickedness leads to all of their demises. A gunshot is played which is followed by the sound of the album being reversed to the first track. It gives the album a cyclical nature, similar to that of “good kid, m.A.A.d city”.

To conclude, DAMN. by Kendrick Lamar is an extremely dense work of art, which justifies it being possibly my most listened to album ever (wow that sounds weird). Many people seem to consider it to be a poppy downgrade from To Pimp A Butterfly but I couldn't disagree more. While I might prefer TPAB musically, I would argue that there is just as much, if not more artistic depth to DAMN.. It is a ghostly, brooding, intense, honest, and artful installation to what is, in my opinion, one of the best discography runs in hip-hop. This is definitely one of the best albums of the year, and possibly the decade.

Favorite Lyrics by /u/King_CornShucker

I was born like this, since One like this immaculate conception

I transform like this, perform like this, was Yeshua’s new weapon

I don’t contemplate, I meditate, then off your fucking head

This that put-the-kids-to-bed, this that I got, I got, I got, I got-

“DNA.”

Now, in a perfect world, I probably won’t be insensitive

Cold as December but never remember what winter did

I wouldn’t blame you for mistakes I made or the bed I laid

Seems like I point a finger just to make a point nowadays

“PRIDE.”

Fear, whatever happens on Earth stays on Earth

And I can’t take these feeling with me so hopefully they disperse

Within fourteen tracks, carried out over wax

Searching for resolutions until somebody get back

“FEAR.”

Life is one funny mothafucka, a true comedian

You gotta love him, you gotta trust him

I might be buggin’, infomercials and no sleep

Introverted by my thoughts, children, listen, it gets deep

“DUCKWORTH.”

Talking Points

What hidden themes/meanings did you catch in DAMN. that could’ve been intentional?

What do you think the encounter with the blind woman in “BLOOD.” represents?

What do you think about the “reverse theory” that Kendrick co-signed?

Do you think Kendrick sacrificed quality to make the album approachable to the mainstream?

Did DAMN. live up to the standards set by To Pimp A Butterfly?

Favourite and least favourite songs, lyrics, and beats on the album?

What direction do you think/hope Kendrick will take with his next album?

Artist: Kendrick LamarAlbum: DAMN.Listen:SpotifyApple MusicTidalGoogle Play MusicBackground by /u/King_CornShuckerAs the dust settled following one of the most important hip-hop releases in recent years (2015’s To Pimp A Butterfly), all eyes were on Kendrick Lamar. This jazz and funk infused masterwork was both socio politically fierce and introspectively vulnerable, typifying Kendrick’s (familiarly) conflicting nature. The album’s strength spilled into the subsequent year’s untitled, unmastered., an EP of compiled demos originating during the recording sessions of TPAB. Together, these works established what Lamar had been working on perfecting since 2011’s Section.80. and 2012’s good kid, m.A.A.d city: his ability to craft a lyrically impressive body of work dense with storytelling and concepts begging for repeat-listens.But as Kendrick said in his late-2016 interview with Rick Rubin, “It will always have some type of DNA in my music. But me as a person and just knowing who I am, I grow, I’m like a chameleon.” And nobody knew what to expect, especially after producer Syk Sense called the beats in consideration “some of the hardest shit I’ve heard.” He also described the sounds saying, “It’s not like the jazzy tape you would think, it’s like...fucking Memphis. It’s LA, it’s Memphis.” In an interview with The New York Times, Kendrick prefaced the topics he was exploring by saying, “We’re in a time where we exclude one major component out of this whole thing called life: God.”But all the guessing was suddenly interrupted by the March release of “The Heart Part 4”, an exciting single concluding with the line, “Y’all got ‘til April the 7th to get y’all shit together”. The day came and Kendrick Lamar’s fourth studio album was available for preorder. It was soon announced to be DAMN., a fourteen-track album featuring Rihanna, Zacari, and U2, as well as a talented line-up of producers such as Mike WiLL Made-It, The Alchemist, and 9th Wonder.Review by /u/King_CornShuckerThe album begins(?) with “BLOOD.”, an eerie introduction where Kendrick tells a story over a mellow instrumental produced by Bēkon and Top Dawg. Bēkon’s bone-chilling vocals kick off the song, offering what seemingly comes to be the album’s thesis,Is it wickedness? Is it weakness? You decide. Are we gonna live or die?These lines carry a listener-hooking sense of mystery that leads into the story. To summarize, Kendrick is taking a walk when he encounters a frustrated blind woman who appears to be looking for something. Soon, he decides to help but is then killed by the woman as a result. This macabre climax is abruptly concluded by a gunshot. While “BLOOD.” is basically a bare-bones introductory skit, I believe it shows Kendrick’s ability to craft artistic brilliance beyond just rapping. A clip of FOX News reporters criticizing the lyrical content of Kendrick’s “Alright” epically transitions into “DNA.”, which is literally the hardest song I’ve ever heard. Kendrick begins by proudly listing both the good and bad in his history and heritage that makes him who he is. The entire first verse is an aggressive yet honest analysis of his personality and beliefs (“And I’m gon’ shine like I’m supposed to, antisocial extrovert”), as well as his current accomplishments (“At 29, I’ve done so well, hit cartwheel in my estate”). An intense, bass-heavy beat crafted by Mike WiLL Made-It carries on for the first verse until it halts into the bridge, featuring a clip of Geraldo Rivera condemning hip-hop’s effects on African-Americans. In response to the FOX News comments sampled here and previously on “BLOOD.” regarding “Alright”, Kendrick said this:How can you take a song that’s about hope and turn it into hatred? The overall message is ‘we’re gonna be alright.’ It’s not the message of ‘I wanna kill people.’This sample paired with Kendrick’s repeating of the words, “I got loyalty, got royalty inside my DNA”, bring on an incredibly aggressive and in-your-face beat switch. Kendrick’s second verse is urgent and even angrier than his first. The passionate delivery of these apocalyptic lyrics (“Tell me when destruction gonna be my fate”, “Look up in the sky, 10 is on the way, sentence on the way, killings on the way”) gives the song the feeling of a grand finale, even though it’s basically the first song. The last line of the song is “Sex, money, murder-our DNA”, saying that these sins are in our blood. It is a very intentional moment, as it helps introduce the album's biblical theme of sin, and the punishments we face because of it. Mike WiLL Made-It reportedly created the second part of the instrumental after Kendrick rapped the second verse a capella. He stated:Just imagine him a cappella rapping the second half of “DNA.” and I had to build a beat around that. I didn’t want the beat to just sound like a regular boom-clap, boom-clap. I wanted that shit to sound just as crazy. I wanted it to sound like he’s battling the beat.Which he clearly accomplished. Not only one of the album’s highlights, “DNA.” is in my opinion one of the best songs of Kendrick’s discography.The next song is “YAH.”, and the first thing we hear is the album’s debut appearance of legendary DJ and rapper Kid Capri. His inclusion gives off a classic mixtape vibe, calling to mind older eras of hip-hop.New shit, new Kung Fu KennyIntroduced earlier on Mike WiLL’s track, “Perfect Pint”, Kung Fu Kenny is a new nickname mentioned numerous times on DAMN. whose motif is seen in videos for the album as well as other promotion and concerts. It is inspired by Don Cheadle’s character from the 2001 film, Rush Hour 2. The most noticeable thing on “YAH.” is the sudden and drastic tone change. In contrast to the previous track’s intensity and unwavering confidence, Kendrick sounds forlorn and paranoid. Kendrick is rapping slowly and melodically over strange and smooth production by Sounwave, DJ Dahi, and Top Dawg.Buzzin’, radars is buzzin’, yah yah, yah yah, yah yah, yah yah, yah yahThis hypnotizing chorus is a bit unclear in meaning, but it seems to be about his awareness. His “radars” are detecting who is untrustworthy, which connects to the paranoid lyrics (“I got so many theories and suspicions”, “My girl told me don’t let these hoes get in my head”). “Yah” may be in reference to Yahweh, the Hebrew name of God used in the bible. In verse two he raps about struggling with temptation even though he believes God is real and curses those who are unfaithful. The repetition in the chorus could be a calling out to God for help or forgiveness.