#why does the ~feminine one~ need to be skinny and have giant lips like

[eggs-love-loki]

Who on earth approved Enamorus’s design it’s so ugly 😭😭😭

[fallen029]

Adult Swim

Laxus was very careful as he sank into the steamy water of the bathhouse, hissing as his muscles and wounds all cried out momentarily from the heat, but this was quickly quelled as the soothing affect of whatever the water had been infused with won out.

It had been a long, hard few days for him.

It was rare for a job to go so poorly.

Sneering some to himself as he played back the vents of the past week or so, Laxus was certain that this was not only a fluke, but one that he wouldn't easily come across again. It wasn't even that his opponents had truly bested him a battle, but rather outsmarted him. Though this should have made it hurt less, the sting felt more sharp, as he could always prove his magical prowess, but mental was much more difficult.

He felt ashamed.

When he was a little boy, if he returned from a job unsuccessful, he'd do so with his tail between his legs, avoiding his father and grandfather as not to admit to them his folly. As he grew, he stop returning from those sorts of jobs at all. Rather, he had pretty sound record for doing all that he could to take care of anything he was hired for.

It was very rare for him to be bested.

Much less outwitted.

"It's going to hurt your teeth in the long run, if you keep doing that, dragon," he heard a voice through the steaminess of the room and though it was difficult to place her, his mind was calmed at the sound. "Grinding them like that. Are you in that much pain?"

Instead of answering, he called out to the woman, "What's with the temp, huh? And what's in this water? You do this all for me?"

"Of course, Laxus." And he found her now, edging into the giant pool of water the room was mostly filled with. At the sound of her sinking into the water as well, he stiffened some, listening in rapt silence as she assured him, "I'd do anything for you."

Stifling some, he coughed a bit before questioning, "Are you sure we're alone?"

"Would I be here," she questioned as water sifted around had he could hear her, swimming towards him, "if we weren't?"

"No," he gave in as, even if their relationship was more public, he couldn't imagine her risking such a stunt around the others. "But…"

"But?"

And she was before him now, completely visible even in the heavy steam and Laxus reached out to brush his bruised knuckles against her pale cheek, getting just a hint of red to appear at the gesture. She was as nude as he was, the water only hiding everything just beneath the mid-level of her breasts and Laxus was disappointed that the steam did keep him from any glimpses of more.

"But," he went on as he smiled for the first time in days and it hurt a bit, all of him hurt a bit, maybe, treading water there with the demon, it was the good kind. "We could pretend."

"Mmm," she hummed as she turned her head, when he tried to kiss her. This was no problem for the slayer though as he only pressed his lips to her rosy cheek instead, humming some himself as he heard her continue, "I don't like that much, Lax. Pretending."

"Is that right?" he whispered with an edge of husk. "Demon?"

"I like things that are just more," she remarked as she ran a hand down his chest, dipping a bit lower, beneath the water level, "real, you know?"

"It's all pretend, demon, if you think about it," he reasoned, maybe a bit, hissing some as her hand deviated at the last moment, coming up a bit to stroke at one of his bruised hips instead. "What the fuck even is magic? Or this? Any of this? A guild. Jobs. What the fuck ever happened to running a shop or a store or fuck, do people even raise cows anymore? And chickens and shit? Why is it all magic and bullshit? I want to be a farmer."

She was quiet the entire time he was speaking, letting the man get it all out of his system, before the most feminine of giggles escaped her lips and he cupped one of her breasts, sighing some at the sound.

"Do you always give up when something does go your way?" she asked. "Dragon?"

"What are you talking about?" he questioned as his toothy grin fell a bit. "Just spending time with my woman. My demon."

"You're sulking," she told him softly and, annoyed by this, Laxus shifted away from her somewhat.

"I'm injured."

"Are you?"

"I am."

"Then why did you not come into the infirmary?" Mira asked. "Huh? Gone up stairs, gotten all bandaged up and medicated-"

"When I could have you just put some sorta shit in the bathhouse water? Heat it up for me all nice?" Snorting, Laxus questioned, "I'm a very important person, ain't I?"

"The most important," she offered.

"You kid."

"I'm not."

"But," he insisted, "I'm serious. I want you to make over me, demon."

"Well," she began with a click of her tongue, "I'm not one to judge, but you could do for a some concealer and your lashes are so great, but could you imagine them fuller? Because I have."

"What?" Laxus frowned down at her for a moment before remarking, "Mira, I mean I want you to tell me how great I am and how I need to keep my head up and I'll get them next time and that I'm still the greatest slayer of all time and-"

"I get it." Mira even smiled. "You want me to stroke your ego."

"I want you to stroke a lot of things."

"Laxus-"

"But yes." And his grin returned, toothier than ever before. "My ego is so bruised."

"Bullshit."

"Mira." Laxus made a face, confused by her language. "What-"

"You've been hurt before." This time when her hand pressed against his chest, it was to push it, hard. "Badly. Been down to some of the lowest of depths."

"Why are you-"

"And you've felt bad about yourself," she kept up and he was shifting backwards, until his back was against the pool wall and he took in a deep breath. "A lot, actually. You hide it better, usually, but I've seen you when you're really upset. Lax. When you get all quiet and reserved and you won't even talk to your little body guards. Or me."

"You studying me, woman?"

"I know you. From being around you." She pressed herself against him and Laxus shut his eyes for a moment, as she added, "From being in love with you."

He took in a breath, Laxus did, before whispering, "What is it then, doc? What's wrong with me?"

She hummed again and the sound felt heavenly, as she almost seemed to do so in a tune. It had been a long week, as Laxus has surmised before, but now he longed for a late night, in apartment, with the demon strumming at her guitar as he laid around, listening. Watching.

It wasn't unlike how they were now.

He wanted her so badly now, in that moment, and whatever he'd originally been angling for was beginning to get edged out. But just as he was planning on making a real move, the woman spoke.

"I think you're worried about something."

"W-What?"

"I think," Mirajane kept up, "that something has you worried. Dragon."

"I don't worry about shit," he grumbled. "I'm the fucking top dog around here."

"Top dragon."

"Damn straight." He puffed out his chest. "I run this place. I control it. Me."

"Laxus, you only show up like once a month. If that. And that's only to flirt with me."

He didn't dispute this, but rather countered, "And yet I'm still the most fucking important. I always has been. I'm the Dreyar. I'm the reason this whole thing exists. Me."

"All that and you're just a farmer."

"So what the fuck," he kept up, "do I have to be worried about?"

"It's gonna be a cold autumn," Mira mused, "so I suppose your crops."

"I'm practically a Wizard Saint."

"Sure," she agreed, "if you don't include any of the glory or voting or prestige and you're only even in the consideration because of Master-"

"Fuck, Mira."

"Sorry." She was the one to shift away then, tossing up both hands. "You can play pretend about being a Wizard Saint if you want to."

"It's not that." Huffing, the man told her, "You know that I don't wanna fucking hear about him right now. The old man."

"You can't possibly still be fighting with him."

"Why do I have to be anything about him right now?" Laxus questioned. "Huh? I mean god, Mira, we're about to fuck."

"Are we?"

"Are we?" He questioned back with a raised eyebrow, but Mira only made a face.

"You both are so stupid, you know that?"

"Demon-"

"You are," she insisted. "You're fighting with an old man, Laxus."

"I'm skinny dipping with my girlfriend, Mira."

"What did he even do to you, huh? Just because-"

"You always take his side."

"He's my Master." She was acting as if he were the stupid one. "Of course I do."

"I'm your boyfriend." Laxus frowned. "I'd think that trumps that."

"Boyfriend, master, boyfriend, master, boyfriend, master." Mira held her palms out, lifting them on alternating intervals, as if weighing her options." Boyfriend-"

"Knock it off," he finally remarked. "Your wording is kinda creeping me out."

"Master wasn't trying to pick a fight with you," she tired instead. "Honest. He just-"

"What are you now? His parrot?" the slayer complained. "And what is this? A setup? Did you purposely lure me here?"

"Lure?" She snorted. "Hardly."

"Tricking me with implications of sex-"

"You," she remarked with a sharply pointed finger, "got naked in this pool first. Not me."

"You stripped down in the men's section and got into it with me!" He couldn't believe they were now arguing over this, but, well, Laxus never rightly could let someone else feel as if they had one. "I'm not the one in the wrong here. If anything, considering you work here, you're kind of abusing your privileges now."

"Who are you going to tell? Your grandfather?" Mira huffed, not liking the idea of being beaten either. "No, considering you won't even talk to him."

"You did set me up!"

"Laxus-"

"This is unbelievable." He shook his head. "I have half the mind to leave right now." When Mira glanced at him though, he added, "I mean, I'm not going to, but-"

"You've been acting like an asshole for two solid months," Mira interrupted. "You know that? And everyone's been worried about It. And then you came back from this job unsuccessful and I just thought.."

"You just thought what? Huh? That you would corner me and make me and my grandfather make up?"

"I thought that I would figure out what's been up with you."

"Demon-"

"But yes," she admitted then and she shifted closer to him once more, staring up into the man's hard eyes. "I did kinda sorta know it's been about the Master this whole time."

"That's shady." And he got to wag his own finger then. "You know that?"

"He's old, Laxus," she defended then. "And has been all bent out of shape too, this whole time, because the two of you are on the outs."

"Has he ever heard of apologizing?"

"Have you?"

"That's not-"

"What was it even about? Huh?" Mira reached out and up then, for his cheek, but Laxus turned away and the affects were wearing off. In the water. He could feel it. Whatever magic she'd infused was dissipating and now they were just in a boiling pot of steamy water for no reason. "Dragon…"

"You don't know everything, Mira." Laxus still refused to look at her. "He's my grandfather. Yeah, he's something to you. He's something to all of you. But I'm different. He's different, to me. You don't understand."

"That's true," Mira whispered after a moment of allowing them man his moment to feel just in that assessment. "But I know that I love the two of you, very much-"

"Awe, gross, demon-"

"I do. Your grandfather is very special to me-"

"You're intent on ruining this moment, huh? Just absolute deadset on it?"

"It would just make me happy, Laxus," she decided, finally, to land on. "Alright? Seeing both of you bent out of shape at the other bothers me. I know that he can be overbearing and obnoxious and perverted-"

"Yeah, one of those, thankfully, isn't as big of an issue for me-"

"-but he's my master." When she reached out that time, it was to physically grab his face, holding his jaw in her grasp as she forced the man to keep eye contact with her. It truly did feel like being in the death grip of a demonic force. "And you're my boyfriend. Who I think is handsome and caring and generous and powerful and strong-"

"Go on," the man tried to get out, but it was difficult around her grip.

"But-"

"No buts."

"-you're also stubborn." She released his jaw then, but he didn't look away. Only glared as the woman insisted, "You have the ego the size of a small village and you can never swallow even an ounce of your massive pride."

"Yeah, well, you cry sometimes and it really bums me out. What about that, huh? And you have dorky siblings. So there."

"Laxus-"

"What do you want me to say, Mira?" he asked defensively.

She only shook her head. "You're both Dreyar men. Which means that you're hardheaded and have a hard time making up with others. I get that. I've seen that. I've lived that. But it would just mean a lot to me if I didn't feel like I was walking on eggshells between two of my favorite people in the whole world."

He slumped some, in the water, and all she'd wanted had escaped her now, leaving the two of them in a steamy bath, alone still, in an empty guildhall, how they always liked to be, but the mood was off and neither saw it being recaptured.

The night ended with Mira leaving him alone in the bath area, while she finished closing up the hall and when Laxus returned to her, it wasn't with malice or disappointment, but just a dreary tiredness that she felt as well.

Makarov was around the guildhall that next morning, grumbling into his first mug of coffee Mira presented to him, but she merely forced a smile for the old man and, well, it was hard ot stay mad at that.

But somehow he managed.

It was a normal day of there ever could be one in the Fairy Tail guildhall regulars intermingled with those returning only for a short stay while Mirajane and Kinana served them the warmest of breakfasts in the early hours and stiffest of ales the rest.

When Laxus showed up around noon, it was to find the Thunder Legion already there, prepared to lick the man's wounds for him, and he would attend to that, of course, eventually, but he had something of a ritual in those days. Mirajane was his woman after all, and it was hardly an uncommon sight in those days to glimpse the slayer leaning against the bar as he gruffly flirted with the woman in a way only a demon could appreciate.

But when he leaned against the bar that day, it wasn't to complement the woman on her dress or request one of those stiff drinks for himself.

No.

Though Mira was before him in mere seconds, Laxus wasn't rightly looking to her as his vision was instead on where the old man sat, perched atop the bar with his staff in one hand and a mean look in his typically jolly eyes.

"Ay, Gramps."

Makarov seemed equally surprised as he was apprehensive and defensive, right out of the gate, as he turned his dark eyes onto his grandson, prepared for whatever the young man might send the way. It was difficult for him to even remember, really, what the two of them were so mad about now, weeks out, but oh, he knew he wished he could go back and tar young Laxus' hide even more, if it meant putting even the smallest amount of respect into the boy's future self.

But he threw the old man off, Laxus did, as he smiled in a rather comfortable way, toothy, but not exactly showy, offering simply, "You ever think about doing work around here or what?"

It would've felt tense, were it anyone else, but this was hardly a true slinging of words out of the mouth of Laxus, especially to his grandfather and Makarov lost the anger behind his eyes, it instead being replaced momentarily by confusion though that quickly morphed into something else.

Annoyance.

But a pretend one, as his brows weren't even furrowed and his grumbled voice felt far more mellow than when the man truly was agitated.

"And what do you know of work, Laxus?" he huffed. "Nothing much, from what I hear."

"What do you hear, old man?"

"More than you do, with that damn music always playing in your ears."

He laughed, maybe, or at least Laxus made a strange noise as he said, "Every time I come around her recently, you're sitting around doin' nothin' while my poor demon's working herself damn near to death on your behalf. Why is that?"

"Laxus," Mira warned, finally speaking up some, but Makarov only snorted at his grandson.

"Mirajane enjoys helping me," the man defended. "She's actually grateful for my presence, unlike you, you big brat. Always have been. So ungrateful."

"I'm grateful for plenty, Gramps." His smile for Mira felt different, when Laxus looked at her, but it was brief as he was quickly remarking, "Not exactly the conversation to be havin' in front of everyone though. Showing you up."

"Why you-"

'So," Laxus kept up, not allowing the older man's gripes as he said, "how 'bout I take you out to dinner tonight?"

"W-What?" This stopped Makarov short.

Laxus merely shrugged "Me and my demon have been thinkin' about trying that new place down by the canal. The one that replaced the old card shop? But if you don't want to join us-"

"I didn't say that." Makarov looked to Mirajane then. "Did you put him up to this?"

"I don't know anything about this, Master," she told him honestly before, tilting her head, she admitted, "Although, I have been wanting to try that place. But it's rather expensive and with how slow things have been around here recently-"

"Good thing you have a flashy boyfriend that can't wait to treat you to it then," Makarov remarked to the woman. "Not to mention his grandfather-"

"Is that what I agreed to?" Laxus griped himself a bit before, leaning across the bar once more, it was to press a short kiss against Mira's cheek. Then, taking a step back, he only glanced between the two of them before saying, "Buncha leeches, the two of you."

"Yes, well," Makarov began as he jumped down then, from the bar top so that he could stare up at his towering grandson. "I guess I do have some paperwork I should attend to. Before the evening rolls around."

"I left a stack on your desk, Master," Mira called after him as, with a sharp nod at the by then void once more Laxus, the man set off for his office. "And Laxus," she called after him as well, when he headed over to where his three best friend were trying hard to not appear as if they had been eavesdropping on every last thing that had just taken place between the two Dreyar men, "I'll be over in a minute with your drink."

It would actually be more than a few, but that was fine, as by that point Freed had set into the job board, Evergreen had found herself busy definitely not flirting with Elfman Strauss across the bar, and Bickslow busied himself with torturing whichever sucker in the bar would tolerate him and his strange dolls.

Mira came over bearing the man's favorite ale. As she leaned down to place it on his table though, she reached over to grasp one of Laxus' headphones, pulling it away some so she could whisper in it instead.

"Thank you."

"Ay, demon." He moved to snatch the headphone back. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure," she giggled while Laxus glanced about, checking it seemed for listening ears before speaking again.

"My muscles," he told her in confidence, "are still rather tense. Even after last night. Maybe tonight, after dinner-"

"I'll have to come back here afterwards, I suppose," she hummed with a glint in her eyes. "To help Kinana clear out the late night crowd. I could be persuaded to adjust the water to your liking, while I close up."

"Taking the old geezer to dinner was the persuasion, demon."

"Laxus-"

"Just count on a late night swim, huh?" He moved to grab his ale then while the woman was distracted by the call of someone on the other side of the bar, complaining about refills. "I'll be leaving on a job again, pretty soon, you know."

"You'll have to." Mira was leaving him then, off to deal with her daily toil. "Me and Master are planning on eating you out of house and home."

"Yeah, well," he sighed softly to himself as he brought the mug up to his lips. "It's what I get for consorting with a demon."

.

I think Makarov is one of my favorite extra person to add to Mirajane and Laxus, right beside Lisanna.

[rigginsstreet]

gladys/alice + 53

53. Take off your shirt. (apologies in advance to any hal fans reading this lmfao i feel like i did him kinda dirty my bad. but hal haters are not allowed to clown on this post. also this did not turn out sexy just sad lmfao sorry)

read on ao3

She knew tonight would be a shit show. Didn’t matter that she had spent two weeks saving up money to actually buy a respectable enough outfit for dinner with the Coopers when she could have just stolen one. Because she wanted to fit in. Wanted them to like her. Didn’t want to feel like even more of an outcast in clothes she swiped from the local department store. 

Turns out, you can take the girl out of the South Side, but you can’t take the South Side out of the girl. Not according to Prudence Cooper and the giant stick he has lodged up her ass, anyway. 

Alice had been on her best behavior from the second she stepped foot on Elm Street. Had smiled and said all the right things. Had gone so far as to make Hal teach her proper dinner etiquette because she wanted to get everything perfectly right. And none of it mattered. Because all Prudence Cooper had done the whole night was look down her nose at her. Did that shit that all those bored, stuffy, suburban housewives do where they make these cryptic little jabs at you with a smile on their face so you have to think twice about if you’ve just been insulted. Because God forbid they say what they really feel. That’s too tacky, apparently. But playing mind games with a teenager is acceptable. 

By the time dinner was over Alice’s palms were bleeding from her nails digging into them so hard. Because, for as much as she wanted to jump over the table and deck Prudence Cooper in her little Puritan face, she knew better. Because, in spite of his nutjob mother, Alice still loved Hal. Even though she was questioning that allegiance now. 

Not once during that dinner from hell did he pipe his big mouth up to say anything in her defense. He’s her boyfriend. That’s supposed to mean something. All the shit she gets from everyone for dating a North Sider, a Cooper, no less, and she always defends him. And he can’t say one thing to his mother.

So now here she was, at some house party drowning her sorrows, her anger. She’d come here with Hal, she remembers that much. But the minute she stepped inside she made it her mission to stay away from him the rest of the night. She wanted to wipe all memory of Hal and the Coopers from her mind, and she was doing a pretty damn good job of it, if she said so herself. 

There was some blue concoction in a giant bowl in the kitchen that kind of tasted like ass, if she was honest. But, fortunately, it had lost all flavor by her third cup, so she kept going back for more.

She’s lost count by now of how many times she’s sent some freshman to fetch her a refill while she hides out in any other corner of the house that isn’t the kitchen because Hal gave up trying to chase her only for her to dodge him. Thought he was being smart parking it in the kitchen to wait for her to come back for another drink. Like she wouldn’t figure out a way around that one.

But apparently Hal’s wizened up to that plan, too. She can see him moving through the crowd of partygoers, obviously looking for her. She’s got the advantage, though, crouched down on the floor out of view. Time to move, though. Can’t risk Hal finding her and turning this night into an even worse fiasco.

Getting up proves to be a little more difficult than anticipated. The room immediately starts spinning, and she has to reach her hand out to the nearest wall to steady herself. Stands still, takes a couple of deep breaths, then she’s good to go. 

Except she’s not. Barely a step forward and she’s falling sideways into the wall. 

“Fuck,” she says on impact before falling into a fit of giggles. The wall suddenly feels like exactly where she needs to be. It’s nice. Soft. Safe...

“Jesus, Al, how much have you had tonight?”

There’s arms around her suddenly. Strong, but skinny. Not Hal’s. And that voice... definitely not Hal’s. Too feminine, even with the grit it possesses. Something oddly familiar she can’t quite place.

“‘m fine,” she says, trying to push out of whoever’s hold she’s in. The room’s so dark around her. Can’t see shit in front her, but that doesn’t matter. She’s just gotta move forward.

“Like hell you are. C’mon, where’s that boytoy of yours?”

Alice’s eyes flutter open at that. Suddenly the room’s not so dark anymore. Gladys Cohen is the one holding her up, she sees now. Because this night just had to get worse for her.

“Don’t wanna see him.” The words slur coming out of her mouth. 

Gladys huffs beside her. “Fine. Whatever. But I’m cutting you off.”

She reaches for the cup just as Alice is bringing it to her lips. The reaction is slow, but once Alice is keyed in to what Gladys is doing, she jerks her hand away out of reach. “Fuck off.”

“Don’t be a brat.” 

Gladys reaches over again for the cup, this time successfully getting ahold of it. Only serves to make Alice pull back, an anger flaring up inside her. 

“Get off me!”

“I’m not letting you get alcohol poisoning over a fight with your boyfriend, that’s so fucking cliche, Al!”

“It’s none of your business!”

Alice swings her arm back towards her in full force, and she feels it instantly. The warm liquid spilling down her shirt, pressing it to her skin. She looks down and sees nothing but a big purple splotch, the blue drink mixing in with the soft pink of her satin blouse. 

The blouse she spent weeks saving for. The blouse that was supposed to solve all her problems. The blouse that couldn’t save her from making a bad impression on Hal’s mother. 

A dam breaks. Tears free flow down her face and there’s a whine coming from the back of her throat, high and shrill and she doesn’t even care.

“Aw, shit. Al-”

“Everything’s ruined!” She yells with everything she has in her. Pounds both her fists into Gladys’ chest, hard enough that she stumbles back a step, before running off to the nearest bathroom.

She slams the door shut as soon as she gets inside. Grabs the nearest hand towel and places under the water and furiously starts scrubbing away at the stain. Some color rubs off onto the towel but it’s doing nothing to remove it from her shirt. 

Vision blurry with tears, Alice gives up, throwing the towel down with a growl before gripping the countertop in front of her. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to stop the tears, but it does nothing. She should’ve known better. Playing dress-up for one night doesn’t change anything. She’ll always be South Side trash, and the universe won’t let her forget it. 

There’s a soft tapping at the door. Alice rubs her sleeve under nose before answering. “Go away.” But it’s half-hearted.

The door slowly opens. Gladys peaks her head through, like she’s making sure it won’t get bitten off. When she deems it safe enough she lets herself fully in, closing the door behind her. “You okay?”

Alice sniffles. “Do I look okay?”

“Maybe not your finest hour, but I’ve got no complaints.”

Alice rolls her eyes.

“Take off your shirt,” Gladys commands, jutting her chin out at her.

“I’m not in the mood, G-”

Gladys laughs. “And I’m not trying to fuck the drunk girl. Take off your shirt.” She sets a jug of detergent she must’ve gotten from the laundry room down onto the counter before sliding her jacket off. 

Alice gets the hint, then, and starts unbuttoning her blouse. Gladys is removing her own shirt - some old and hand-me-down Runaways tee - and handing it over. Stands there in nothing but her bra and ripped jeans.

With a tentative hand, Alice takes it, tries her best to avoid looking. Their fingers brushing for the briefest second before Gladys is reaching for the stained blouse. Gets to work on making it look new again.

Alice slips the old shirt on. Can smell the brand of cigarettes Gladys smokes on it. The ones they used to share under the bleachers between periods and behind the Wyrm before Alice decided to quite. There’s an undercurrent of something pleasant there, too. Cinnamon and cloves. A mix that is so distantly Gladys. It makes her head spin, but she’ll blame that on her drunken state.

It makes the tears start falling again.

“Woah, hey.” Gladys abandons the shirt in the sink and turns to pull Alice into her arms. “What’s got you all worked up, blondie?”

Sometimes Alice feels like she made a mistake. That she chose wrong. And she hates to admit because, because she loves Hal. But. She misses her old life, too. And right now... everything feels too familiar. In Gladys’ shirt, in Gladys’ arms. The way Gladys is petting her hair and making her feel okay when everything’s not okay. 

She pulls back enough to look Gladys in the eyes. Gladys traces a fingertip softly at her temple, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear and in that split second Alice makes the decision to lean forward, press their lips together.

It’s wrong. She knows. Hal’s outside looking for her, worried about her. And here she is hiding away, kissing her ex girlfriend. 

Gladys’ mouth opens in a gasp, and Alice takes it as an invitation. Except. 

Gladys presses the palm of her hand to Alice’s chest, pushing her back gently. “I’m not doing this, Al,” she says. There’s no anger in her voice. No hostility, surprisingly. Just... a rational calm that Alice feels so far away from.

“Why not?” Alice pouts.

Gladys smiles, but it seems sad. “Because your boyfriend’s outside.”

“You don’t even like Hal.” She goes in for another kiss, but is stopped short with Gladys’ hand to her chest again.

“But you do. You’re drunk, and upset, and I’m not interested in taking advantage.”

“Gladys-”

Gladys slips her leather back on. Zips it up to just her navel before turning to open the door. She pauses, turns to nod at the shirt in the sink. “Be gentle with that but keep scrubbing. Should come out just fine. Then go make up with your boyfriend.”

She turns to leave for good this time, but the moment doesn’t feel finished. Things never really feel finished when it comes to them.

“Gladys?”

She’s chewing on her bottom lip when she turns to face Alice again. Eyebrows raised in expectancy. 

But there’s no words coming to Alice. Nothing feels significant enough to encapsulate the moment, everything she’s feeling. Hell if she even knows what she’s feeling. Longing? Regret? Apologetic? All of it all at once.

The silence hangs heavy between them, but Gladys must feel it, too. She gives Alice a final nod before leaving, shutting the door behind her. And Alice is left alone, wiping a tear from her eye.

[alchemy-fic]

DELETED scenes from 88 and 89

The doorbell rang.

  “MARI, who is it?” Eggman called.

“It’s… it’s your mother and she looks very upset.” MARI answered. “Do I enter lockdown mode?”

“Uh, no.” He escorted the Mobians to the operating room to wash up. He ran to Sheptilah and took her hands in his. “Please. Please be nice to Mama. She’s very abrasive but the sooner you meet her the better. It’s like ripping off a scab. She’ll leave on her own when she gets bored.”

“How bad can she be?” Tilly asked.

Eggman pulled her into the elevator and got off on the ground floor. “Just promise me you won’t hurt her and you’ll be patient.”

“Of course, Ivo.” Tilly cocked a brow.

“MARI, I want all the robots to treat Mama with respect. She’s still family so no blasting her, got it? Just keep her happy.”

“Yes, sir.” MARI answered.

Eggman threw open the door.

Before him stood a shorter, heavy set woman with the same luxurious mustache as her son. Her pink and white dress did not match her oversized teal church hat or her black pumps. She had the same black sclera and red irises as her son and spoke with a deep, booming voice. Her lipstick was expertly applied as was her eyeshadow. In her hand she carried an old, beat up suitcase.

“Mama!” He said through a forced smile.

“Why didn’t you invite me to your wedding, you slime bucket!? Just when were you going to tell me you got married!? ” She hollered. “I had to find out in the Mobius Home For Really Bizarre Mothers from some river rat’s bubbie that you got hitched! Is this the girl?” The woman spat.

“Mama, this is Sheptilah, my wife.” He gestured at her.

“Why does she look like Cher but with the colors inverted? Did you marry some dirty hippie? You didn’t even ask my permission to marry someone! How do I know if she’s any bad for you?”

“Mama, you will be pleased to know that Sheptilah is a  queen .”

“Oh, that explains it. You married a  goth  queen. Who else would mix black lipstick, heavy black eyeshadow and  white hair?”

 “I’m wearing kohl.” Tilly crossed her arms. “It’s my custom, I’m not  goth . My people never invaded the Roman empire.”

 “... Not  visigoths , girl.” Mama looked at her with a furrowed expression, one eyebrow cocked. “It’s like you aren’t… from this time. Nobody calls it kohl anymore...”

“She’s a  real queen… It’s a nation near Iran.” Eggman interjected.

 “Oh,  great  . Why haven’t you taken over the world or gone to war? However many goats he traded for you it was  too many, little girl.” She blew past the couple and trudged into the kitchen to fix herself a snack.

Eggman looked at his wife apologetically.

“That is not abrasive.” She hissed under her breath. “That’s  virulent . Also, I’m worth many, many goats.”

“I’m sorry. I love you, but  please handle her until I’m out of surgery. I’ll make it as quick as possible.” He trotted after his mother.

Sheptilah took her time following them.

    “Mama, I’m about to go help perform surgery on someone upstairs. In the meantime my wife and the robots will take care of your needs.”

“I didn’t raise such a wuss. Go, do your  totally real surgery thing. I’m sure it’ll be all your robots and not your own handiwork.” She popped open a soda and guzzled it.

“Mrs. Eggman…” Sheptilah said, watching her husband leave the room.

Ivo winced and broke into a sprint.

“My name is Sylvia Robotnik! My slimeball of a son changed his last name years ago because he was ashamed of our family name.” She tossed the empty can over her shoulder.

“My apologies, Mrs. Robotnik.”

“You, girl, will call me Madam.” She piled on random ingredients to make a giant, disgusting sandwich.

“Right, sorry.”

“So if you’re a queen why do you live here in this dump?” She knocked the refrigerator door closed with her hip, making the appliance rattle.

“Truthfully,” she hesitated, “I am a five thousand year old queen and my kingdom doesn’t really exist anymore.”

“Of course you are. So why would my loser son marry you? Oh, no. Did he knock you up?”

“Ivo is not a loser,” Tilly grit her teeth, “And I am not pregnant.”

“He’s a loser, sweetheart; but you’re avoiding the question. Why would he marry  you? ”

“Because he loves me?”

“Ivo doesn’t know  how to love! I didn’t raise him to be sappy and sentimental! And what’s he trying to pull by being buff now?” She sat down to eat.

Sheptilah picked up the can and put it in the recycling bin.

“How are you even that old?” Sylvia practically ate the entire sandwich in one slobbery bite without chewing.

“I’m a  witch and I was kept in a crystal for five thousand years until Ivo stumbled upon me and brought me home.”

“Oh, I see. You don’t have much experience with men! That’s why you decided to tie the knot with my loser son.”

  “Madam, I think you don’t understand. He’s built himself an empire and controls almost every continent from right here in this lair with his Egg Bosses. He’s a  literal  emperor. He has a base on the  moon . The moon!”

“So? What has he ever done for his mother?”

Tilly groaned in frustration. She balled her fists then relaxed. “Do you just not like me because I’m  brown-skinned ?”

“What? No, I don’t like you because you’re a hippie! Look at you recycling and cleaning and whatever else it is you do. I bet that ugly garden out back was your idea.”

“Hmm…” Sheptilah mulled this over. She switched gears.

“What?”

“I think you would like something to eat, yes? I make great honey cakes.”

“How good of a cook can you be? You are a string bean.” Sylvia looked her over suspiciously.

Sheptilah summoned a plate of piping hot fried dough and a pot of honey. She drizzled the golden liquid over the cakes and slid it toward Sylvia.

“I am a woman of many talents, Madam.” Sheptilah then summoned gold coins into her hands and turned them into brilliantly cut gemstones. “Your son and I have plans for world domination, we are just busy with other things at the moment.”

Sylvia pushed the plate away. “Parlor tricks. Not very impressive. I’m growing bored with you, girl.”

“Well, what do you want to do?”

“I want to level this whole island to build a poorly designed parking lot with a ton of toll booths, for one. Then I want that stupid hedgehog caught and killed.”

“Are you talking about Sonic?”

“Yes! That pest! Always interfered when I tried to help my son get ahead in life. Do I smell cookies?”

“Yes, right this way.” Tilly escorted her to the dining room. “I made this tea myself.”

“Brew a fresh pot! I don’t know how long this has been sitting out here; and I want more cookies!” She practically inhaled the plate of leftover madeleines. “Don’t get any of your gross hair in them, either.”

“Right away,” Tilly left for the kitchen with the teapot. She washed it out and gathered some ingredients for a different brew.

Lavender, bergamot, catnip and lemon balm were added and boiled to extract flavor. As she poured the strained, boiling tea into two cups she whispered into one.

“ This tea as it passes lips, shall cause exhaustion with each sip. Every flavor strong and steep shall

curse the drinker into sleep. ”

Faint sparkles appeared as she blew across the tea. They disappeared and both cups looked identical again. Sheptilah turned the cursed tea cup so that the handle pointed inward and she could tell the difference.

She used magic to summon new cookies and brought them to the table.

    Sheptilah placed the teacups on the table with a click and slid the cursed one to Sylvia.

The woman picked up the warm cup in her hands and inhaled deeply. “Smells awful!”

Sheptilah waited patiently for the woman to sip her tea but Sylvia lingered on her cup. “You’re a witch, right?”

“Yes.”

“Can you read tea leaves? I want you to read my fortune.”

“I can read tea leaves.”

“Well, go get some so you can do that!” Sylvia put her cup down but kept her hands on it.

Sheptilah groaned and got up. She retrieved some tea leaves in a slotted spoon and came back. She tipped the leaves into Sylvia’s cup and set the utensil aside.

“What’s in this junk, anyway?” Sylvia took a sip and yawned. “The aftertaste isn’t bad, at least.”

Sheptilah smirked. “Bergamot, lavender, you know… tea stuff.”

Ivo’s mother rested her elbow on the table and leaned her face against her palm, sloppily swaying the

cup back and forth as if she was aerating wine. She watched the tea leaves spin in the vortex she created.

“Feeling tired?” Tilly asked in a somewhat antagonizing voice. Sheptilah sipped her tea primly.

“Yes, it was a long trip up here.”

“That’s too bad.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Sylvia grinned mischievously and guzzled down the rest of the drink. “You’re too pretty for my son.”

 “Hmm?”

 “You’re too  pretty . You’re outrageously skinny, your hair is too long and you wear nice clothes. You’re too pretty for him.”

 “Do you mean to say I’m too feminine?”

 “Too fragile in looks but not personality.” She shot a pointed look at Sheptilah, a broad and evil smile drawn across her face. “I figured you’d try to poison me.”

Tilly stiffened up. She felt her chest grow warm and her eyes become heavy.

“I’m immune to all that from years of eating hospital food but I switched the cups  just in case .”

Sheptilah’s hands went numb. She dropped the cup and it shattered, spilling its cursed contents on the table. Sylvia stood and walked around toward the prone witch without letting the tea touch her.

“Ivo may be an idiot but he’s  my idiot and I know my idiots. I know he’d never settle for anyone who wasn’t as smart and conniving as him; but I’m disappointed with how weak you are. A garden, recycling, being clean and nice? It’s disgusting in all the wrong ways! If you really knew what you were doing you'd have cursed both cups.”

“I eviscerated Katella.” Sheptilah muttered. "I can and will kill  you , too."

“But you healed her and look what happened.” Sylvia pointed to the missing finger.

 “How do you…”

 “I have access to and read the EggNet, sweetheart.”

“How?” She struggled to stay awake.

“My son is predictable and never changed his passwords.” Sylvia gingerly brushed Sheptilah’s hair out of her face. “Are you dying?” The leaves stuck in her teeth made her smile look all the more menacing.

“No… It’s… sleep...”

“Too bad. Don’t worry,  I  won’t kill you.”

KORin entered the room. “Step away, Sylvia.”

“What the Hell are  you supposed to be?” Mama Robotnik rested her hands on her hips. “Some kind of maid bot?”

“I’m the bouncer. It’s time for you to go.” KORin fixed her eyes on the woman.

“Nah, no thanks.” Sylvia walked up to the robot. “Stand down, tin woman.”

“My orders are to protect the family. I am here to protect the empress. Leave.”

“See, that’s the thing. Who is higher up on the rung? The emperor or the emperor’s mother?”

“KORin… it’s okay.” Sheptilah shut her eyes. “It won’t last… long…”

“Are you sure?” The robot stared at the witch.

“Yessss...” She passed out.

“So? What are you waiting for?” Sylvia stomped her foot. “Let’s move the body and get started on world domination!”

 An hour into the surgery things were well underway and proceeding fine.

“Doctor Eggman?” Smiley looked up from his work when he saw the human move oddly out of the corner of his eye.

    The human swayed on his feet. “Maybe I was not ready to come back…” He sat on the floor away from the operating table and rubbed his temples. “Suddenly I’m exhausted.”

Lourdes jumped down and checked him over. “When did you last eat?”

“Not that long ago.” He answered.

“Stay here for a minute, okay? Until you feel better.” Lourdes went back to monitoring Maw’s vitals.

“This surgery is going to take at least five hours and I need you awake to supervise. Remember, if the cybernetics malfunction we could all get sucked in! That sounds terrible.” Smiley dug around in Maw’s gums.

Eggman shook it off and stood. “I’m fine, I think I just had some kind of blood pressure drop. It only lasted a spell.” He stretched until he heard the joints in his spine pop.

“Neurally mediated hypotension!” Smiley looked up. “You were standing still too long hunched

over and watching us. Walk around the room a bit, you’ll feel better.” The corgi went back to his work.

  “Wakey, wakey… your mother in law is ka-ray-zee.” Scourge shook the witch by the shoulders.

Sheptilah snored loudly.

“For God’s sake, lady! What happened?” He lifted her by her hair and slapped her face.

No reaction.

 “I wish I could sleep like the dead.” Scourge slapped his own forehead. “The living, I wish I could sleep like the living… Oh, fuck.” He noticed the cursed tea twinkled oddly in his vision.

“Fuck! Fuck. How do you break curses… shit.” Scourge wiggled his fingers in her direction. “Abracadabra!”

Nothing.

“Um... what did she fuckin’ say once?” He muttered to himself. “Hex breaking… it was some stupid bullshit…oh! Cayenne pepper! Anything fuckin’ spicy.”

Scourge floated into the pantry and knocked ingredients over haphazardly. When he found the pepper he grinned. Grabbing it, he tried to fly out of the pantry only to get stuck with the pepper not passing through the door.

    “Shit!” He struggled to pull it through, the bottle clanging against the metal. “Come. The. Fuck. On! Why does this work with people but not…”

The plastic bottle pulled through but without the powder inside inside it.

“Pepper. Right… that shit wards off ghosts. There must be no ghosts in fuckin’ Mexico...”

 He calmly opened the pantry and tried to scoop up the pepper but it simply passed through his fingers.

“This is so fucking stupid!” He howled.

He angrily floated to the table and picked up Sylvia’s unbroken teacup and poured it out onto the floor. He then went to the pile of pepper and tried to scoop it into the cup with the same fruitless results.

“Fine, we do this the hard way!” He grabbed Sheptilah by the underarms and dragged her to the pile and dropped her face directly into it.

He glowered when he heard Sheptilah snore loudly. After a second the witch sat up sputtering. She clawed at her face, tears streaming from her eyes and mucus from her nose. She vomited up the sparse contents of her stomach.

Scourge calmly walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of milk. He unscrewed the cap and doused Sheptilah over the head.

“What the Hell, Scourge!?” She choked.

“I just saved your ass, Sleeping Beauty. You’re a real idiot for trying to play the evil queen by cursing her tea. You should’ve cursed both cups and not drank from either!”

Sheptilah felt her way to the sink and washed her burning face. “I’m going to become a necromancer just to bring you back to life so I can slap you to death.” She sloshed some water in her mouth before spitting it out.

“The pepper got into my lungs!” She coughed deeply.

“You’ll heal. Listen… your mother in law is nuts! Nuttier than squirrel shit! Kick her out!”

“Scourge, I can’t breathe. I’m tempted to turn my lungs inside out and run them under cold water…”

“Wouldn’t that make you drown?”

“I can give myself gills!” She spat up a huge wad of phlegm straight into the sink and washed it down the drain.

“It’s the only way I was able to break the spell, ya ingrate.” He crossed his transparent arms.

“Thanks.” The burning began to subside. “What’s Sylvia doing?”

“Trashing the place. She’s already bossin’ Orbie and Cubey around and threw around a bunch of furniture; including the sofa.”

“The really big and soft one?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll have her head!” Sheptilah charged off, bumping into things with her eyes red and bleary. “Sylvia!” She called.

“I told you to call me Madam!” The woman shouted back. “I’m in the den, if you could call it that!”

    Sheptilah walked in to see Sylvia moving all the heavy furniture around with one hand.

Holy shit,  she thought.  That woman has the same strength as Ivo!

“So what happened to your kingdom, anyway? If you were a queen we should use this to our advantage.”

“Advantage for what? World domination?” Tilly crossed her arms. Scourge appeared next to her.

 Mama Robotnik let the sofa land with a hard thud. It was moved to the other side of the room blocking an exit.

“Giant parasites we sealed in the moon broke out when your son cracked said moon in half with his nonsense. They’re back and trying to kill everything but especially me. They’re causing all those wild earthquakes.”

“That’s your story?” The woman turned to Sheptilah and stared at her with disbelief.

“It’s true.”

“And how exactly has this prevented you two from taking over the world?”

“Well, we can’t take over a planet if something actively trying to destroy it is in our way. Once we get rid of those things we will decide what we want to do with the empire; but I won’t lie. I am considering expanding it.”

“By how much?” Sylvia cocked a brow.

“I want to convert my pyramid into a base and work on getting a large space station going.” Tilly nodded to herself.

“Small potatoes. Think bigger! Hold the sun for ransom!”

“He tried that once and it didn’t quite work out.”

“Moon for ransom?”

“He already tried that, too.”

“What about all the freshwater for ransom?”

 “Eh, pretty much did that.”

“The planet for ransom!”

“Yep. He did that. That one  almost worked.”

    Sylvia flopped onto the sofa with a disgusted sigh. “But the hedgehog got into the way.”

“Among other things.” Sheptilah stuck out her hip. “Ivo is smart but he often does things without thinking. It’s really not that hard to kill Sonic, he just doesn't want to.”

“See, that’s his problem! He has no killer instinct, but you seem to have a semblance of one.” Sylvia sat up and straightened her hat.

“I have personally executed six people.”

“One of which being the child ghost that is making faces behind your back?” Mama Robotnik smirked.

Sheptilah whipped her head around to see Scourge was acting cute and innocent. She squinted at him before turning back to face Sylvia. “I’m not proud of his death. He’s haunting me.”

“Neener neener nee-nee!” Scourge teased. “Nah, the haunting was revoked forever ago. I’m just here for fun now.”

Mama Robotnik stroked her sizable mustache. “Still, why would my son marry you? More importantly, why wouldn’t he tell me? ”

“Because it was supposed to be a  secret . We eloped. We’re not going public with the marriage until a later date. Trust me, he’d invite the world to come see his splendid wedding and get himself decked out and all that.”

Sheptilah sighed, tapping her upper arm with her fingers.

“We’re on thin ice with GUN because Shadow the hedgehog is my familiar, as you probably know.”

“Shadow? ” Sylvia thought this over. “ Gerald’s  Shadow? I remember when he was this big.” She held her hands apart by about a foot. “He was an ugly baby. He looked like a turd crossed with a raisin.” She grimaced.

Tilly chuckled. “Yes, that Shadow. I guess not everything is on the EggNet.”

“They executed Gerald, his creator, and Shadow works for GUN anyway?” Sylvia grit her teeth and her face turned red with fury.

“Yeah, after they kept him in stasis for fifty years, destroyed his memory and tried to kill him.” Sheptilah shook her head, “I have a feeling he won’t work for them much longer. GUN really, really hates that he’s my familiar but recognizes they can’t do anything about it.”

They stared at each other in silence for a while.

“So who is my son performing surgery on upstairs?”

“Maw the thylacine. He’s one of the Egg Bosses. His jaw is all messed up.”

    “Bah, when will he hire more humans? Who needs animals when you have human beings around? Besides you, of course. You barely count as a human; what with your alien magic nonsense and all that.”

Sheptilah rolled her eyes. “Well, it was nice having you for a visit but now you need to leave. We’re getting ready to bug bomb the place once Ivo’s done with the surgery and no living person can be here.”

“Oh, please! This place is spick and span! Clean as a whistle! It’s disgusting, really.”

“Madam... “

“Take my suitcase.” Sylvia threw it at Sheptilah. She barely caught it, the impact knocking the wind out of her. “And get the master bedroom ready. That’s where I’ll be sleeping. You and my moron of a son can sleep outside in your hippy garden.”

“He is not a moron.”

“He married  you , didn’t he?”

    Tilly adjusted her grip on the suitcase. “Scourge?”

“Yes?” The ghost smirked.

“Take this… and show her to her room.” She handed the spirit the luggage. Scourge understood and grinned at Sylvia.

“Right this way, Your Disgusting-ness!” Scourge bowed in a grand but obviously sarcastic gesture. He grabbed Sylvia with his free hand and dragged her through the walls and out of the lair.

“Don’t let her back in.” Sheptilah instructed MARI. “Please reactivate your and your sister’s bodies.”

“Thank God for you, mom.” MARI chirped.

Scourge came back, very proud of himself.

“Thank you, King Scourge. Fantastic work.”

“I love throwing people out on their asses.” he ‘dusted’ off his hands. “As long as spicy pepper isn’t involved I can do anything I want.”

“You may outgrow that cosmic ‘allergy’ as you get stronger.” Tilly giggled. “But you’ll always be affected by blessed salt.”

“I’m fucked if I ever go into a salt and pepper store.” He gestured like he was hanged with a noose.

 “MARI, how’s the wife doing?” Eggman said.

“She and Scourge just kicked your mom out.”

“It’s nice they’re getting along.” A pause, and then: “Wait, what?”

The lair rumbled.

“Jeepers creepers!” Smiley yelped. “Earthquake?”

“No, that would be my mother.” Eggman sighed. “Finish up with him; I’ll be right back.”

He hurried out of the room.

     “Sylvia!” The witch howled. “Put down the boulder!” She stood in front of MARI and KORin with her arms out protectively.

The hulking woman held the giant chunk of outcrop she broke over her head with little effort.

“No! You will learn some manners!” She broke the boulder in half simply by pulling it apart like stale bread.

“What kind of Mickey Mouse physics is that!? ” MARI cried.

“Girls, go back inside.” Tilly whispered harshly.

“No way!” MARI refused.

“You can’t do anything, MARI. It’s forbidden for you to hurt his family and unfortunately that’s family!”

“But we can still defend you.” KORin said.

“Do so from inside the lair. Maw’s still in surgery and he needs the protection. That’s an order!” Tilly ran in zig-zags, making it hard for Sylvia to aim the rocks. The robots lingered in the doorway before going inside.

    Mama Robotnik threw both stones at the same time, both just barely missing the witch.

Sheptilah looked up at the shadow darkening over her body. It was Mama Robotnik coming in elbow-first with a wrestling slam. Sheptilah, eyes wide, stared up for the split second it took for gravity to pull the massive woman downwards. All at once the air was knocked from Tilly’s lungs and she was seeing stars.

The acrid smell of sweat and cheap perfume was all she could sense. Mama Robotnik stood up and

trotted off to pick another boulder to hurl.

Sheptilah, dazed and unable to focus, was sure she was flattened like a piece of paper. She felt the back of her head, noting her skull was cracked open and chunks of bone floated in brain matter. Warm blood streamed from her nose. She touched her forehead with her fingers, feeling the indent caused by Sylvia’s elbow.

Another shadow descended upon her. She flinched, believing it would be another blow but instead nothing happened.

Small stones fell around her with an almost hollow clatter. She looked up and saw it was her husband who had just punched the boulder to smithereens.

“Mother!” He shouted angrily.

    Shadow teleported in with a massive headache. “Ti-ti! Sorry I’m late; I came as soon as I felt something was off.” He didn’t seem to be too shaken by the image of his witch with her brains out and about. She healed just as quickly on her own.

“Hi, Shads!” She said dreamily.

    “She was rude!” Sylvia said petulantly. “I had to show her who was boss.”

Ivo’s fist throbbed. “You need to leave, Mother.”

Shadow turned to Eggman. “Do you want me to kill her?” He started toward Sylvia.

“Maybe.” Eggman said. “Open a portal to some place far away, if you please.”

    Sylvia protested. Screaming nonsense, she charged at her only son.

Shadow slashed at the air and opened a knot to a mostly deserted beach.

Ivo picked up his mother, held her over his head and unceremoniously tossed her in. He chucked in her suitcase after.

Shadow closed the portal and helped his witch to her feet.

“Where’d you send her?” Ivo asked.

He shook off his headache. “Coney Island, New York.” Shadow smirked.

“This is the second time my brains were on your lawn, Ivo.” Sheptilah frowned.

Ivo looked at his aching fist and saw his glove was torn and bloody. He walked over to his wife and held her tightly. “Why weren’t you fighting back?”

“It’s hard when your brain is trying to reconstruct itself…” She shuddered. “Thank you for… saving my life.” The full horror of what occurred finally hit her and she stumbled.

    He caught her and kissed her cheek. “I’m so sorry I had to leave you with her. I should’ve just kicked her out at first sight. I won’t let her come back ever again. I just couldn’t let the two doctors sit with Maw for that long because the bombs are so delicate sometimes.”

“How did the surgery go?” Sheptilah felt ice cold and shivered.

“Hm? Oh, Maw is in recovery but I don’t care about him right now.” He rubbed her shoulders to warm her up.

“Recovery? Oh, his jaw.” Shadow pretended like he forgot. “You did that today? With your mother here?”

“My mother surprised me.” Ivo huffed. “Had to leave my poor wife with her for four hours…” He rocked her back and forth in his arms.

 “I’m okay, really. The lair is a mess but I can clean it up… I tried to curse her with sleep but ended up being cursed myself and while I was out she was rearranging things.”

“Just rest, honey. I’ll have the robots do that.” He ran his hand over the back of her head and cringed when he felt chunks of brain matter and bone. She was really hurt if the meninges tore that easily… what the Hell did my mother do? He thought. “Actually, I’m going to have Lourdes look you over.”

    “Should I stay?” Shadow asked her.

“Only if you want to, Shads.” She nodded.

“Call me if you need me.” He took a step back and teleported out. A ring of dust was left behind and blew away in the wind.

“I’m so sorry, Tilly.” Ivo hugged her tightly. “I never should have let her stay. I knew something like this would happen.”

“How did you survive your childhood?” Tilly looked up at him.

“I got myself into boarding school and left home at a very young age.”

She buried her face in his chest.

[the-gothmother-writes]

#3 The Dryads

Pastel awoke with a jerk, the night had faded into a crisp morning and she was lying down surrounded by giant flowers. Where was she?

She rubbed her eyes, her stiff joints aching at moving even the slightest inch, and she was freezing. She tried to remember what happened last night, looking around in dazed confusion.

She had met Helena last night, but had she really? She was very clearly not in her house, so it had to be real.

Pastel staggered to her feet, shaking her hands from the icy dew that drenched her. She looked around. Bees bumbled in the flowers that dripped with morning dew, she was in a large garden. Helena said something about a garden. She glanced around, trying to find a way out, paths were marked by small stones and she began following them mindlessly. The air was fresh, cold and smelled of lilacs, roses and sweet herbs.

There was a large oak tree in the center that caught her attention, it seemed to breath with her and Pastel began to stare at it, captivated by the gnarled bark and heavy green moss that cloaked it.

She got closer, feeling the bark under her fingers. It was a large tree, and maybe she could climb it to gather her bearings.

Pastel looked around and grabbed the closest foot hold, hoisting her small, willowy form up the trunk.

"Ow!" Cried a voice that startled her so much, she dropped back to the floor.

"Oh! Who are you!?" Gasped a feminine voice that dripped with honey and swayed like leaves. Pastel looked up, seeing double. Above her, the tree stooped, and she could see the outline of a woman begin to detach herself from the trunk, her eyes glowing a dark, emerald green.

"You are not of the Garden. Where do you come from sapling?" Asked the Dryad that stood over her. Pastel pushed herself back to her feet, looking up at the Dryad that towered over her, her eyes wide in disbelief. A talking tree... Was she dreaming? Had she gone mad? The forest must've been getting to her.

"You must be terribly lost," said the Dryad. Pastel nodded.

"I am Oka, my sisters are spread through the forest," she said. Pastel smiled hesitantly.

"H-hi, Oka. I'm Pastel, I uh, I got a bit lost last night. Do you know Helena?" She asked.

The Dryad's eyes flickered for only second at the name and she smiled again.

"she runs the garden...she must've brought you here," she murmured. Pastel shrugged.

"must've..." She murmured. She was talking to a tree...if her brother saw her, he'd run screaming. The thought almost made her laugh, but she stifled it. At the remembrance of her brother, a thought hit her, she needed to find her way back to the village, even if it was by a sliver of smoke. She needed to get back home. She looked up at the Dryad.

"May I ask a favor," she murmured. Oka leaned down and rose a brow.

"what do you need sapling?" She asked. Pastel twiddled her thumbs as she thought.

"Can I climb your trunk and see above the canopy, I need to find my way back home," she explained. Oka nodded, a soft smiling dawning her lips.

"of course," she said, holding out her arms. Pastel grit her teeth as she took a running start onto the trunk, grabbing hold of the Dryad's arms and hoisting herself up with the creature's help. She climbed through the branches, peaking out of the foliage.

Her pale eyes met the sunlight and she squinted. In the distance there was a single line of smoke. How far away was she? And was that even the village?

"Oka, who's that in your branches?" Croaked the old voice of Helena. Pastel stumbled and tripped in a panic of familiarity. She let out a screech as she fell from the tree, but Oka caught her in her branches, setting her on the ground with no cuts or bruises.

"the sapling in your Garden, she wanted to find her way back home," explained Oka. Helena waved her hand dismissively and Pastel took in the woman in the full light. She was perhaps somehow more beautiful in the sun, her mane of grey hair sparkling like a lake struck by the sun's rays, and she could've sworn that her milky white eyes were practically glowing.

"come in my cottage for tea, we must speak of your destiny," she said curtly. Pastel furrowed her brow and looked at Oka who was studying her intently.

"Wait...is she the hero?" Asked the Dryad, her head darting up to look Helena in the eyes with a question clearly written on her face. Pastel was taken aback by the words. A hero? She was no hero, she was skinny and nothing but a girl! Her brother was more of a hero than she was and he was a coward!

Helena only shrugged, but her eyes twinkled with an other worldly wisdom.

Pastel followed Helena into the Cottage that had materialized from almost nothing much to the girl's surprise.

"have some tea," said Helena, pouring a cup of the steaming drink into a black mug. Pastel waited dutifully, glancing around. The cottage was homey, a fire roaring in the living room, which was decorated in furs, and flowers.

"Hero?" She asked. Helena glanced at her.

"You said you were chasing a blue butterfly,were you not? That is the mark of the hero, come, let me read," she said, gesturing for Pastel to join her at her dining table. Pastel gulped and sat beside the old woman, who immediately locked her into a dead stare. Pastel shifted uncomfortably as the woman clasped her hand in her old knotted ones. She felt her skin begin to burn an icy hot. It started slow, before gradually growing warmer and colder at the same time.

Pastel clenched her jaw and grit her teeth, squirming under the touch and begging silently for Helena to let her go. She wanted her brother! This was starting to become too much for her!

First a glowing blue butterfly, then a witch, then a druid, now a burning touch?

Pastel ripped her hand away when the heat grew to much to bear. She looked down at her arm, tears welling in her eyes. She gasped when she saw the red hot marks left on her pale skin.

"what!?" She whispered.

"do not be afraid child...I saw...A black night, and changing seasons, do these seem familiar," asked Helena. Pastel gulped and nodded. Helena's eyes sparkled.

"you have been chosen for a reason!" She barked. Pastel's eyes widened and she stared down at her tea in dismay. She felt a small well of pride build in her chest. Her whole life she was reminded how unimportant she was and suddenly this old woman had told her she was a hero...she didn't know why it had such an effect but it did!

"Well...what does that mean?" She asked. Helena shrugged.

"I don't know...but I'll leave you with a gift my child, the blue butterfly will be back for you...follow it and do not lose it again. It is taking you to your destiny. Here, take this," she murmured, extending her hand. Pastel furrowed her brow. Destiny? She looked at the hand with caution, worrying that same burn would inflict her again.

She took the hand anyway, she was too curious not to, and this felt important. This was probably the most important thing that would ever happen to her.

A calming warmth enveloped her, it was like being submerged under warm water. Pastel gasped for air, seeing her skin glowing, and realized it was like being submerged under water, she couldn't breath! Helena let go when Pastel began to choke. They stared at each other, before Helena smiled.

"I have given you the gift of magic...you can choose to fulfill your destiny, or you can go back to your village, haunted by your dreams and followed by butterflies. The choice is yours. Oka will accompany you on your journey to him my child, but I'm afraid this is where we part ways," she said. Pastel furrowed her brow and looked b k down at her hands. Those marks on her skin had begun to glow a faint aura of blue.

[theconservativebrief]

“Take it off,” Bradley Cooper supposedly said to Lady Gaga.

“It” refers to the tiny bit of makeup Gaga was wearing at the screen test for what became her starring role in the latest reboot of A Star Is Born, according to a widely circulated story in the LA Times.

The story, which has now been repeated by its stars several times and elevated to lore in only a few short weeks, goes like this: During the screen test, Cooper, who is the producer, director, and lead actor in the movie, whipped out a makeup wipe and dragged it down Gaga’s face from forehead to chin. He then told her, “Completely open. No artifice.”

This narrative thread continued this past weekend, when Gaga and Cooper went on The Graham Norton Show in the UK. There, she told a tale about trying to sneak some makeup onto the set, according to the Evening Standard, “but Bradley wouldn’t go for it.” Cooper apparently jumped in and said, “It’s how the character is.”

Gaga’s character, Ally, is an unknown singer-songwriter who has pretty much given up on her dream to be a performer. She is also plagued by self-doubt because of her appearance. This no-makeup story has been getting so much attention in part because Lady Gaga has built her persona — multiple personas, really — using props that are sometimes purposely jarring. Makeup, wigs, shoes, facial prosthetics, a giant egg, and, yes, a meat dress have all been part of her repertoire. She likes to challenge what we consider norms for women’s looks and fashion, so seeing her with her natural hair color and no makeup is jarring in a different way.

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But does not wearing any makeup mean a woman is more authentic? It appears to be what Cooper and his character, Jackson Maine, both believe. In fact, it’s what a lot of people believe. As a society, we claim to value what’s “natural” when it comes to women and their looks, but when you dig a little deeper, that’s not really what we want. We want them to look beautiful without any intervention at all, which is an unachievable goal considering that society’s idea of what is beautiful is so narrow: young, skinny, conventionally pretty, light-skinned. It’s impossible for women to win, so celebrating Gaga’s makeup-free face as the ultimate sign of her authenticity is more complicated than the sound bites would have us believe.

Let’s unpack this Bradley Cooper makeup removal situation a little bit more: 1) Why the hell was Cooper carrying makeup wipes on his person? 2) Did he give Gaga the opportunity to cleanse her face properly, at least? Makeup wipes are not great for the skin! Next time you invade someone’s personal space to impose your beliefs on them, please offer them an oil or a gentle cleanser instead, Bradley.

All kidding aside, the reaction to this moment has been decidedly mixed. While some thought it was sweet, it was also perceived to be paternalistic or downright controlling. Nylon deemed it “weird as hell.” In a piece for NBC, Jennifer Gerson called it another example of someone policing women’s looks. Daily Beast entertainment reporter Kevin Fallon called it “gross and creepy” on Twitter.

The incident was repeated ad nauseam throughout the entertainment and popular press. It may have been a calculated anecdote because, as some pointed out, the 1954 version of A Star Is Born, starring Judy Garland. featured a scene in which her male co-star James Mason removes her makeup (using a nice-looking cold cream, I’d like to point out):

To be fair to Cooper, he ostensibly did this because that’s what he envisioned the character of Ally to be; he is hopefully not in the habit of whipping out makeup wipes on unsuspecting women at random red-carpet events. (But I’d also like to point out how he was not willing to be “completely open” himself, at least on the press junket, as this cringeworthy interview with Taffy Brodesser-Akner at the New York Times demonstrates.)

And, importantly, Lady Gaga was on board with it. She said ditching the makeup helped make her a better actor, helped her inhabit the role. “It put me right in the place I needed to be, because when my character talks about how ugly she feels — that was real. I’m so insecure. I like to preach, but I don’t always practice what I preach,” she said in the LA Times interview. Gaga has publicly stated that she’s been plagued with doubt about her own attractiveness since the beginning of her career and has addressed it on many occasions. For many women, makeup imparts confidence, and the vulnerability of a bare face is real.

In case you are not aware of Gaga’s extensive beauty canon, she loves makeup and uses its transformative power masterfully. She has been working with makeup artist Sarah Tanno for almost a decade, and the two have collaborated on some of the most clever and unique makeup looks in recent memory. They make art together. The looks are not natural — metallics and sequins and bright eyeliner figure prominently. Gaga’s signature look is that she has no signature look. She is also working on a makeup line of her own, called Haus of Beauty, as Recode reported in July.

In the movie, Gaga starts out makeup-free and her character later dyes her hair red and piles on more cosmetics. Cooper’s character pushes back against this pop star-ification, arguing that she is losing her authenticity. This is the opposite of Gaga’s career trajectory; she started out embracing full-on caricature, and toned down her visual statements a lot with her most recent Joanne tour, taking on a folksier image (including lots of floppy hats).

Lady Gaga in 2009 and at a Joanne photo call in 2016. John Shearer/Jun Sato/Getty Images

Which brings us back to the idea of authenticity. Gaga isn’t the only big pop star who changes her looks frequently and unabashedly uses makeup to craft a persona. Three of arguably the most authentic performers on the planet — Dolly Parton, Rihanna, and Cher — do as well. Cher and Parton have also been open and unapologetic about their plastic surgery.

Their characters and messages have been consistent through their careers, and surely most people would agree these three are not fake or superficial when it counts the most. But we still somehow think makeup means you’re faking something, conflating fake color on someone’s face with a superficial personality. Real authenticity, however, is intangible.

Cooper’s use of the word “artifice” in the LA Times interview is very telling, because associating makeup with artifice advances the narrative that women who wear it are trying to trick people.

It’s an idea that’s been around for centuries. An unattractive woman uses makeup or other sneaky methods to fool a man into thinking she’s attractive, thus snaring him forever. Micaela Marini Higgs detailed this history and mindset for a Racked story in 2017:

The use of womanly wiles and feminine trickery have been blamed for many things since the Garden of Eden, and makeup is seen as an extension of this inherent dishonesty. Women, we imagine, are willing to lie to get what they want, even if that involves trapping men through the long con of contour and lipstick.

There have been more insidious examples of this recently. In 2017, a man released an app called MakeApp that allows users to “remove” women’s makeup in photos. It was roundly panned as sexist. Heather Schwedel wrote at Slate, imagining its founder’s mindset, “Why not expose the dastardly tricks these harpies are using to disguise themselves? Makeup: It’s basically witchcraft.”

In its most current sinister iteration, the idea that makeup equals deception is something that incels, or “involuntary celibates,” believe. These bitter young men believe they are being harshly and superficially judged by women, because they themselves judge women that way. “They are obsessed with female beauty but despise makeup as a form of fraud,” Jia Tolentino wrote at the New Yorker.

In the movie, Cooper’s male gaze reigns supreme. If you have seen the trailer 87,000 times, or even just once, you know that he tells Gaga’s character Ally he thinks she is beautiful. That moment when he is driving off in the car and hollers out to her because “I just wanted to take another look at you” has become a meme. She does indeed look incredible without makeup in the movie. But we, the audience (and presumably Ally), are supposed to finally believe it when Cooper says it.

The idea that a woman without makeup is a woman in her ideal form has found its way into the biggest makeup trend of the last decade: “no-makeup makeup.”

At Meghan Markle’s wedding to Prince Harry in May, her makeup was light and natural. Her freckles were visible. Her lips looked like her own lips. Prince Harry “kept saying thank you. He was thanking me for making her look like herself,” Markle’s makeup artist Daniel Martin told InStyle. Elle UK estimates nine products were used on her face. It was no-makeup makeup.

Google the phrase and you’ll get more than a billion results. Look it up on YouTube and you’ll find hundreds of tutorials. The fact that one might require a tutorial to nail this look tells you everything you need to know about it. This trend is the real scam, not women wearing red lipstick and black eyeliner. You need upward of a dozen products to get the look popularized by Kim Kardashian:

Women have been wearing makeup since before Queen Elizabeth I slathered her face with lead to cover up her smallpox scars. They do it for a lot of reasons — because of societal pressure to cover up “imperfections,” as a way to express individuality, or just plain boredom with their natural lip color. Insisting that a woman’s authenticity can only be revealed by revealing her bare skin is a disservice. Gaga said herself at a press event that not wearing makeup brought out vulnerability in “someone that doesn’t necessarily feel safe [being] that vulnerable all the time.” Why is this the ideal?

In an interview for Vogue’s October issue, in which Lady Gaga appears on the cover wearing a “natural” makeup look, the author notes, “The biggest challenge for Lady Gaga was creating a musical character that was not like … Lady Gaga.” The irony here is that the “authentic” Lady Gaga we see in A Star Is Born is a fictional character. The real Gaga — fake eyelashes, stick-on gems, and all — is authentic as hell.

Original Source -> The problem with Bradley Cooper asking Lady Gaga to go makeup-free in A Star Is Born

via The Conservative Brief