#@madeline cracker

[kursed-curtain]

A Shift In Outlook

A changeling!Graham fic

(featuring @gerbiloftriumph 's, @captmickey 's, and @thewatercolours ' Cracker family hcs mixed in with a few of others & my own)

-+-

Young Graham - one of the newest members of the Cracker family and the one who stood out the most. Not only was he the youngest brother, surrounded by sisters, but he was also considered one of the ones who got into the most trouble.

Sure, his sisters got into their own fair share of situations. When they were younger, Anisette tried to cut her hair by herself, Ginger had fallen off plenty of rocks and short trees, and Madeline took eggs from the cupboard and wrapped them in blankets in hopes they would hatch.

However, Graham's incidents fell under a whole new level of problem, because they were constant. Once, Madeline had discovered that 9-month-old Graham had snuck outside the house and covered himself with mud. She brought him inside, then locked the door. Minutes later, Graham was gone, and Madeline found him again, in the same spot outside, while the door was still locked. Turns out, he climbed up onto a desk, unlatched the window, and crept outside.

They found more strange Graham-related occurrences. He babbled to bugs and animals, yet stayed sad and silent around people. He would hum and sing to himself a song that his family never taught him - in another language too, when he barely spoke Common. He wouldn't eat meats or let others eat meats in front of him - he would throw a tantrum just to get them off the table. He was frequently sick, with no clear sign of a specific illness, and yet never wanted to stay in bed, always sneaking into trees or the family farm.

Graham was concerning, and quite the handful, but Mrs. Cracker had raised a family from the ground up. This was simply an extra challenge.

(Although, part of Rosie suspected this was all part of their plan. It made sense, but she never wanted to view her boy as a life-ruining curse. He was more than that.)

-+-

One sunny morning, Graham leapt out of bed, spry as a feather, and grabbed his day clothes. Today was his day, after all - his birthday!

He struggled more with putting on his tunic, but that was alright, he didn't have time to worry. They were going to have a party, with the whole family, at the restaurant Mom worked at before they settled at home.

He slipped on his oversized cape and plopped on his adventuring cap. The cap fell right onto the floor. Graham tried again, securing the cap by pressing it onto his head. It popped off, falling into his hands.

That was... weird. Graham wandered over to the mirror, to see what was the matter.

He almost fainted at the sight.

-+-

Mrs. Cracker hummed a melody to herself while heating up the butter and the milk. Anisette was standing on her tippy-toes, reaching for the flour on one of the higher shelves.

"Be careful, Annie," Mom chimed.

"I am!" Anisette grabbed a wooden spatula, edging the flour closer and closer to the edge...

...and the room soon clouded with white powder.

Mom fanned away the flour. "Annie, dear, you could have waited for me to be done and I could have helped you,"

Anisette looked down at the mess on the counter. "I wanted to get it myself..."

"And you did, in a very clever way too," Mom patted Anisette on the head. "You just need to figure out when asking for help is needed, because that's just as important as independence."

"Help... In-de-pen-dence... Got it!" Anisette beamed.

Mom rubbed Anisette's shoulder. "Good. Now, go wake the birthday brother! I can clean this up."

Anisette nodded. She rushed to the bedroom and rapped on the door. "Wakey wakey, pancakey bakey!"

...No answer.

Anisette struggled with the doorknob. Huh, locked.

"Graham?"

"I don't wanna." Grumbled a voice from behind the door.

"Why don't you wanna come out?" Annie smirked, "Mom's making choco-chip pancakes for your birthday~"

Graham gasped, but stayed behind the door. "Um...hair..."

"Hair? Oh! Are you having a bad hair day? I can help!"

"Nuh-uh."

Anisette rubbed her neck, recalling her childhood self's very poor lack of bangs. "Yeah, okay, I get that. But still, it's your birthday! You shouldn't let a hairy situation ruin your special day!"

There was a beat of silence, then shuffling of feet and unlocking of the door. Anisette giggled, for Graham had covered himself in a bedsheet.

"You look like a ghost!" Anisette laughed.

Graham's voice shook in fear. "I do??"

"Yeah, you look like a sheet ghost on Halloween!" Anisette tugged on the sheet. Graham pulled it back over himself. "C'mon, Graham, you can't wear this all day!"

Graham trembled, "...I don't want you to be scared."

Anisette's face softened. "Why would I be scared? Of you?"

"I look weird."

"Weird hair is okay, Graham! I've had weirder hair," she rubbed him on the back, "Plus, I'm not afraid of you! I love you a lot, and nothing beats that. Okay?"

Graham hummed, "...Okay." Then slipped off the bedsheet. Anisette promptly screamed.

"You! You're pale as a bedsheet!" Anisette yelled.

Graham cried, "I know!"

"Your hair is silky!"

"I know!"

"You have a tail! Pointy ears! Your pupils are gone!"

Graham choked up. "I-I know... I'm scared..." His voice gained a more prominent echo, getting pingy, like a windchime.

Anisette brought Graham in for a hug, to let him cry into her dress. She noticed how clean his face is - how it didn't get red and puffy when he cried. She wasn't sure *what* he had become, but she was determined to find out. "Hey, we can figure out what is happening if we gather some context behind this all," She rubbed him on the back.

Graham tilted his head. "Con-tex?"

"Oh, um," Anisette tapped her chin. "It's like a clue about what really happened. Like in a mystery story!"

Graham clapped, humming his cheery tune. It was rare to see him smile - usually he simply hummed when he was feeling content, and that was fine with Annie.

She led Graham back into the bedroom, suspecting the first clue must have been around the area. She paced the room, stroking her chin while she pondered the situation. Graham waddled behind, mimicking her chin-stroking. What neither of them noticed was how Graham seemed to be growing in size.

"Have you found anything, Graham?" Anisette turned around, then realized she had to look up to meet... Her own eyes?

"No... I don't see context," Graham said, in Anisette's voice. He covered his mouth.

Annie bounced. "You turned into me! You can change your appearance!"

(She stood back to back, comparing herself to Graham as herself. "You're too tall, though."

"But you are tall."

"Well, compared to you, I'm probably a giant! But sadly I'm not that tall.")

Graham looked at his hands and his golden curls in awe. He was a shape changer!

Meanwhile, Anisette was conjuring up ideas. There were so many possibilities offered by having a shapeshifting brother. Maybe she could become part of a crew finally - even though a ship wouldn't allow anyone under 14 to join. She could have Graham sign for her as a slightly older version of herself - even though he barely knew how to write his alphabet, let alone forge a signature...

A knock on the door. Zards, Annie had forgotten about breakfast.

"Are you two alright? I heard a lot of yelling," said Mom.

"Yes~!" Anisette groaned. She threw the bedsheet back over her brother-shaped-like-herself, then she brushed past Mom to grab two plates of pancakes, only to be stopped on the way back to the room.

"No eating in the bedroom, Annie," Mom chided. "I'll let you eat in the living room, but only if you promise to not leave any crumbs."

Anisette crossed her heart. "It'll be as if I was never there!"

Annie sped to the bedroom, and brought back sheet-ghost Graham. They sat in the living room, with Graham kicking his legs and giggling as he ate pancakes from under a bedsheet.

Mom served Madeline and Ginger - who, unlike their younger siblings, decided to sit in the dining room - then sat down across from Anisette and someone under a blanket.

"Graham, what are you wearing?" Mom beamed, holding back her laughter.

Anisette butted in, "It's his Halloween costume!"

"In... July?"

"Yeah!"

Mrs. Cracker scratched her chin. "Well, I still wanna see the birthday boy's lovely face!"

Annie and Graham jumped. "No, don't! He's having um- A bad face day! He doesn't wanna face his face." Anisette objected.

Mom sighed, smiling. "Good face or bad face, I want to properly greet my boy."

Graham whispered to Anisette, *"I don't know how to change back..."*

*"Um, you have dark hair and freckles and blue eyes. Now, go!"*

Graham waddled up to Mom and let her take off the sheet. At the sight, her jaw dropped, for the child before her didn't look like Graham at all. More like Annie had dyed her hair darker and put on freckles.

Graham saw his mom's face - clearly disappointment - and teared up. "I don't know how to look normal again!"

"Normal?"

"I- I didn't want to scare you. I look like a scary monster. A scary monster that changes shapes." Graham sniffled.

"Yeah, um," Anisette stood behind Graham. "Graham woke up and he was all smooth and shiny and he can change his appearance."

Mom tapped her foot. "Like a changeling..."

"Changeling?" Annie and Graham asked, in unison.

"A type of fae who takes on the appearance of a human," Mom recounted, "Typically, in tales about the fae, they swap stolen human babies with a changeling one. You're different, though-"

Her children gasped. Graham wailed, "Was I swapped??"

Mom held Graham's face. She caressed his cheeks, and he leaned into it with a quiet humming of his tune. "You were never swapped with anyone else. You're my child, and don't let anyone say that you can't be," She assured. "...Want me to tell you a story?"

Graham gasped - a story! - and plopped himself at the foot of his mom. Mrs. Cracker called over Madeline and Ginger, for they would want to hear the story - the truth.

"Once upon a time, before you were born," Mom booped Graham on the nose, "I was on a little walk home through the forest, strolling beside your father. One misstep, however, had me standing in a fairy circle, and face-to-face with a scowling fae."

The sisters gasped, for the dramatic effect. Graham kicked his legs, his smile growing wide.

"We apologized for intruding, simply wanting to get home without any fuss, but the fae wasn't going to have it. They were keeping us there for reasons they wouldn't elaborate on - they simply glared," Mom imitated the face of the fae. "I even commented on it, saying that their face could use some work - no one looks good when they're sneering."

Mom snapped her fingers. "That's what ticked the fae off."

"Zards, can't even take light criticism." Ginger crossed her arms.

"Did the fae make Graham a changeling???" Anisette squealed. Graham held Anisette's hand, his tail swaying.

Mom chuckled. "I'll get to that, Annie. Be patient."

Anisette folded her legs and hugged Graham.

"The fae boomed, 'You dare to mock my beauty with yours? No one shall surpass my charm!'" Mom waved her arms. "'Your bloodline will be disfigured for generations to come. They will be abandoned, outcast, until the end of time!'"

Graham's sisters burst into commotion. "That's terrible!" "Why had I never heard of this??" "That fae is a big meanie!!"

Graham, meanwhile, gazed at the floor. He held Anisette tighter, then buried his face in the crook of her neck. Anisette combed Graham's silky white hair with her fingers, cooing, "What's wrong?"

Graham wriggled in Annie's arms. "...Am I supposed to be outcast? Am I the curse?"

"What? No!" Anisette cried.

Mom tisked, then placed Graham on her lap. "You know... With curses, there's usually some sort of loophole."

Graham wiped away tears. "What does that mean?"

"It means that there was part of the curse that the fae may not have thought about." Mom stroked Graham's flowery antennae. "The fae didn't think about how sweet of a child you would be, about how clever and kind you are. Your charm comes from the inside."

"So..." Graham's tail swayed. "The curse made me scary, but only on the outside?"

"Yes, Cookie, you got it!"

Graham giggled, his smile unnaturally wide, and his laughter like birdsong. His sisters gathered around to give Graham a group hug, unnerved by their brother's appearance.

...Madeline gasped. "We still need to prep for the party!"

Graham frantically bounced in his seat. "I'm um, I'm not normal still!"

Mom pushed back Graham's hair and kissed his forehead. "This is how you are normally. We still love you~"

"Mom, please!" Graham kicked his legs. "How do I turn not-scary for the party?"

Anisette scanned the room, saw Madeline, and Annie's face lit up. She rushed to the bedroom, grabbed a family portrait, and shoved it under Graham's nose.

"Look at your portrait!" Anisette giggles.

Graham idly does, and as he's looking, his face melts and warps into a young boy with dark hair, blue eyes, and a face of freckles.

Ginger grabs a hand mirror, and Graham gasps, "I did it!"

"You did do it, Cookie!" Mrs. Cracker grins.

Graham rushed off, eager to continue prepping for the party. The rest of the Crackers readily pack in balloons and Graham's presents from the each of them, for a birthday to remember.

[pupsmailbox]

CLOWN︰JESTER ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　ace. anticette. apple. arcade. aster. astucieux. astuto. astuzia. august. balloonette. bandit. battutista. bennett. bingo. birthdae. blossom. bob. bobbie. bobby. boink. bon. bonnie. bozo. buddy. buttercup. button. buzz. calypso. carnival. casper. circus. circusse. cirque. clerihew. clown. clownesse. clownette. comet. comic. commedia. confetti. cory. cosmo. crayon. dainty. daisie. daisy. dash. dewey. dex. dexter. ditzie. ditzy. dizzy. doll. dolos. doodle. dot. dottie. emery. emil. espie. finn. fizz. flynn. fool. foolette. frills. giggles. giullare. glitter. gracie. gwen. harlequin. harlette. harley. imp. jaspers. jesse. jessie. jest. jester. jesteresse. jesterette. jesterlita. jestesse. jestette. jett. jill. jingle. jinx. joker. jokesse. jokesy. jokette. jolly. joy. joyce juice. jupiter. ken. kip. kipper. kite. kizzy. lala. lolli. lulu. madeline. maeve. marionette. marjorie. maverick. merry. milo. mimi. nifty. pagliaccio. paint. pantin. parade. patches. pendolo. pierre. pierro. pierrot. pigeon. piper. polka-dot. polka. polkadot. poppy. puzzle. quin. quinn. quinny. raspberry. ribbon. ribbonne. riley. rio. rocket. rogue. ruffle. sally. scooter. scout. scribble. sekai. sketch. skippy. skittle. snicker. soda. spade. spark. sparks. sprinkle. squeak. squiggle. stitch. stitches. streamer. sunbeam. sunny. sunray. taffy. tally. terach. tessa. tetris. titter. toby. tommy. triboulet. tricheur. trick. trickesse. trickette. trix. trixie. tryck. tryx.. tune. twinkle. twirl. wendy. whimsy. yippie. zane. zang. zany. ziggy.

PRONOUNS ⌇　!!!/!!!. !!t/!!t. !?/!?. . :3/:3. :3c/:3c. :p/:p. >:3/>:3. >:3c/>:3c. aah/aah. an/antic. animal/cracker. balloon/balloon. bard/bard. be/bell. blast/blast. bo/bounce. boing/boing. boop/boop. bri/bright. bright/bright. card/card. chi/chime. circus/circuse. clown/clow. clown/clown. co/color. co/colorful. co/comedy. co/comical. colo(u)r/colo(u)r. color/color. comic/comic. comic/comical. costume/costume. dot/dot. egg/egg. ent/entertain. fo/fool. fool/fool. fu/fun. fun/fun. giggle/giggle. h!!/h!!m. ha/ha. harley/harlequin. he/hem. honk/honk. hu/humor. h☆/h☆m. h⭐/h⭐m. ip/ip. jest/jest. jester/jester. ji/jingle. jingle/jangle. jinx/jinxe. jo/joke. jo/joker. jo/jokester. jo/joy. joke/joke. joke/joker. joke/jokester. jol/jolly. juggle/juggle. jump/jump. ki/kit. kit/kit. la/laugh. la/laughter. laugh/laugh. light/light. mi/mime. mim/mime. mis/mischief. mrrp/mrrp. party/party. pattern/pattern. paw/paw. perform/perform. perform/performer. pip/pip. pla/play. pla/playful. play/play. pom/pom. pop/pop. pos/posse. prank/prank. prank/prankster. pun/pun. pup/pup. quip/quip. rainbow/rainbow. ruse/ruse. sh!!/h!!r. shine/shine. sho/show. sh☆/h☆r. sh⭐/h⭐r. si/silly. silly/silly. smile/smile. sparkle/sparkle. splat/splat. squee/squee. star/star. suit/suit. ted/teddy. th!!y/th!!m. th☆y/th☆m. th⭐y/th⭐m. topsy/turvy. trick/trick. trick/trickster. vex/vexe. wah/waah. wi/witty. wit/wit. wonder/wonder. yip/yip. yip/yippee. zi/zir. ☀️ . ⚘️ . ✨ . ❗ . 🃏 . 🌈 . 🌻 . 🍌 . 🍭 . 🎁 . 🎂 . 🎆 . 🎈 . 🎉 . 🎊 . 🎠 . 🎡 . 🎢 . 🎪 . 🎭 . 🎵 . 🎶 . 🐾 . 💡 . 💦 . 💫 . 📯 . 🔊 . 🔔 . 🖍 . 🖍️ . 🗯 . 😜 . 🤡 . 🥳 . 🧁 . 🧨.

[hellcheer-heaven]

Hellcheer List: How caretaker Eddie helps Chrissy.

Thank you to @bluebunnymoose for helping me with this.

So I know that I’ve mentioned a previous headcanon where Chrissy and Eddie would have their “kid day” together. I do love the idea of the two of them engaging in that, but I really like the idea of Eddie being a gentle and loving caregiver to Chrissy.

Let's say she's having a rough week and she's just exhausted and overstimulated.

When Eddie can sense and see that she’s distressed, he goes right into caregiver mode.

One of the first things he does is hug her and offer her a stuffed animal.

She holds the toy and lets herself cry in his arms, tightly shutting her eyes as he rocks her gently.

“It’s okay Chrissy, just let it out sweet girl. You’re safe here.”

Sometimes when there’s too much going on, she may speak very softly, say a small selection of words, or nothing at all.

If she doesn’t talk, Eddie will ask her a simple yes/no question: “Are you tired? Do you want something to eat?”

He also gently encourages her to point to what she needs as well.

He's considerate and patient, letting her know that she can communicate her needs when she’s ready.

She’ll quietly ask for a bubble bath and when he asks her if she would like her bath toys, she looks up with a little smile and nods.

While he washes her hair and scrubs her skin, Chrissy will blow the bubbly foam and watch it float, reaching out to catch it before it hits the water.

Eddie smiles knowing that she’s feeling a little better, he’s even happier knowing that they will have the weekend to themselves to continue this for as long as she wants.

This means no errands, chores, and other adult responsibilities, just taking care of his one and only.

In their own small house, Eddie has already supplied the pantry with snacks and comfort food (bear shaped graham crackers, pop tarts, mac and cheese, chicken nuggets, etc.) that she was never allowed to eat in her childhood.

Eddie will help make their bed and decorate it with her stuffed animals.

He’ll rent a collection of cartoons and animated movies on vhs for them to watch.

He brings out a huge container of arts and crafts and coloring books to play with.

There’s a large soft blanket spread out with even more of her stuffed animals in the living room.

There’s a book shelf filled with her favorite stories from her childhood.

These include fairytales with happy endings, Alice in Wonderland, Winnie the Pooh, Dr. Seuss, Goodnight Moon, Charlotte’s Web, Peter Rabbit, Madeline, etc.

If she wants to color in a coloring book, Chrissy will lay down on the blanket, open up her big box of crayons, and have her back rubbed while she colors a picture of Minnie Mouse petting Figaro.

Before he heads to the kitchen, he gives her two choices for lunch: Grilled cheese sandwiches or pizza rolls.

They eat in front of the tv and laugh together as they watch cartoons and movies.

She’ll happily sing along and dance to the songs, and ask Eddie to join in, something he gladly loves to partake in.

During a sad scene, Eddie gently holds Chrissy as she squeezes her plush toy and presses it tightly to her face.

He rubs her tears away and pecks her forehead, sweetly reminding her that it’s okay to cry and feel sad for a character.

Even if it’s a movie that they’ve seen many times, certain parts never fail to make her tear up, “Seeing Dumbo cry is sad to watch, isn’t it Chrissy?”

“Everyone is so mean to him, he wants his mama Eddie. Dumbo loves his mama and she misses him.”

When Chrissy wants to make a pillow fort, they take off the couch cushions, rearrange some furniture, cover it with a blanket and crawl inside.

When she wants to play with her dolls, Chrissy decides how the story goes.

She’ll let Eddie know which dolls he gets to play with, what kind of voice to use, and what will happen next.

He loves to watch and listen to her create all sorts of tales and describe the adventures and hardships the characters go through.

After dinner time, she begs him to stay up just a little longer, but he softly reminds her that it’s time to get ready for bed.

He offers to pick her up and take her upstairs for her evening bath.

When she’s done brushing her teeth, he dresses her in cozy pajamas and lets her pick two books to read aloud.

During story time, she asks for him to read the book in different voices for each of the characters.

Then he turns off the lights and turns on the nightlight, singing or humming a few comfort songs to her as he tucks her in and boops her nose to make her giggle.

Chrissy will give him the puppy dog pout and tell him, “I’m not tired Eddie.”

Eddie can’t resist those pleading eyes and lays down beside her, brushing his fingers from the top of her forehead to the end of her nose.

She’ll try to keep herself awake, her eyelids feeling heavy as the gentle hum of his voice eases her into a peaceful slumber.

“I’m… not tired. Not… sleepy. Eddie…”

He stays at her side until she’s fast asleep, carefully getting out of bed, and tiptoeing away.

Eddie looks at Chrissy one more time, smiling at the sight of her so calm and serene, “Sweet dreams princess.”

The next morning after breakfast, they would go for a walk in the park and Chrissy would stop to look at the playground.

She wants to go, but she doesn’t tell him and she’s afraid of being judged by others, so instead she watches from afar.

Later on in the late afternoon/early evening, Eddie says that he has a surprise for her

After dressing her up warmly and telling her to bring one stuffed animal, he takes her over to the park.

All of the families have left and the two of them have the entire playground to themselves.

He would push her on the swing, race her down the slide, spin on the merry go round, climb the jungle gym, and play on the see saw.

After she’s tuckered out, Eddie takes her home and then it’s time to get ready for bed.

After a quick clean up and a shower, he joins her as well.

He lays down beside her and kisses her lips, affectionately whispering, “I love you Chrissy.”

[shadyufo]

Started working on another house rehab job earlier this week. First day I started, what turned up on the front porch but an adorable little chicken! She really wanted to come in the house too, haha!

I walked out to my car—chicken running right on my heels the whole way—and grabbed a pack of cheese crackers I’d brought for lunch. She started trying to grab them before I even crumbled them up for her.

While she was preoccupied with the crackers, I ran back inside and unloaded cleaning supplies from a cardboard file box, grabbed my jacket, and went back out to lil miss chicken. Scooped her up and put her in the box with the jacket covering the top which she was not too thrilled about until I reached inside and sprinkled a few more cracker crumbs in the box—then she started singing happily again and pecking away at the crumbs while I loaded her in my car.

I drove around to a few of the neighbors’ houses and the first ones weren’t home but then a lady came to the door at one. Told her I was sorry to bother her but asked if she might possibly be missing a little white chicken and set the box down for her. Lady uncovered it and exclaimed, “Madeline, what are you doing?! And WHAT have you been eating?!” then scooped lil miss Madeline the Chicken up for a hug while wiping cracker crumbs off her beak.

I would have brought her home to my flock if I hadn’t found her peeps but I’m glad she got to be reunited with her owner <3

[sandy7h3oddboi]

little maddie x chase thing i wrote

There was so much to focus on when you step into the Mad Hatter’s Tea-Shoppe. Flying tea kettles and hats, desks on the walls, doors that are impossible to open and stairs that lead to Grimm-knows-where - were the main things many would take notice of right away.

Unlike other customers there, Chase wasn’t paying attention to such things, and him having grown up seeing such odd and nonsensical things wasn’t the only reason why.

Cheerful giggles came from one of the tables where a girl with curly hair was having tea with her pet mouse. Madeline was radiating with such joy that even from one look at her, a warm smile appeared on the young knight’s face, and when realizing it, flustered, the lad looked away, feeling his cheeks take a shade of red.

After transferring to Ever After High, Chase had been looking forward to spending time with Maddie and her friends, but the Red Knight would find himself tongue-tied around the eccentric daughter of the Mad Hatter. Even as the lad managed to get a few badly-tied together words out of his mouth, the girl was among the few to untangle them and decode what he was saying. And in a way that was what drew the young knight to her - her ability to see sense in what others saw as nonsense, and he found it as a hat-tastic part of the girl.

As the young Narrator read the line, Maddie could feel the butterflies in her stomach flap their tiny wings. “My, you’re sure know what funny things to say, dear Narrator,” she said in an unusually dismissive tone as she lowered the teapot, trying not to pay any mind to her increased heartbeat. But the Narrators didn’t need to know such things. But Brooke did knew, after all she was reading the story.

Maddie then looked over at her tiny companion. “Can you believe it, Earl Grey - there is a boy mad enough to like me. ” she whispered, with her voice returning to it’s gleeful tone. Cheeks flushed, the girl took a peek back to see if Chase was still in her father’s tea shop, but unfortunately the knight was gone.

“Aw, peas and crackers,” she slumped against her chair, swirling the spoon in her tea-cup. “I was so busy hearing your words, dear Narrator of mine,” her light eyes glanced up. “That I missed the chance to invite Chase to the party…” she somberly said. What the young Hatter didn’t know, however, was that this wasn’t the end of the tale and there would come another chapter for them to-

“Gosh, really?” Maddie cut the voice off, springing up from her seat, which earned a few looks from those in the tea-shop. “That’s spell-tacular!” she giggled. “I can’t fairy wait! Thank you so much, young Narrator!” the girl saluted to the air, before putting her tea-set back into her big, blue hat and out she was from the shop, with Earl Grey sitting on her shoulder, but not before giving her dad a warm hug.

As she got further and further away, she would not be there to hear how the young Narrator was about to get scolded by her parents.

“Brooke, what did we tell you about spoiling the characters of what will happen in the next chapter?” her mother asked, tapping her foot.

The girl let out a groan. “That wasn’t a spoiler, it was a hint.” she corrected her mother. Her father shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have done that and you know it.”

Another groan came from Brooke. This was gonna be a loooong day, wasn’t it?

[thewatercolours]

♻️🤔🤡

♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP?

Oh, let me see. After eavesdropping at Hector's house, I initially had Graham furious with an anger that was really shame in disguise. Doing a lot of "How dare they" type thinking. I had this whole paragraph where Graham was just seething, seething at Number One, and at the very end at Hector, who almost seemed too inconsequential to be mad at, but who "technically said all those things, not Number One." On the one hand, I liked the chance to make him react in anger - he's only at the beginning of this year of kingship, and it hasn't beaten him down yet. He's explicitly brave Graham in this fic. And it's just an interesting thing to explore, how anger is a secondary emotion we turn to when we can't handle the more difficult base emotion like shame or fear or sadness. Buuuut I ultimately decided against exploring this explicitly. I decided to give a little psychic distance for that moment, to just show how Graham reacts physically rather than giving the reader an x-ray of his thoughts, and leave it up to interpretation whether he was angry or just sad. I already made him grumpy and belligerent in the previous chapter, and I didn't want to hammer too much on the "Graham is angry" side of things. But just know, in my head, that scene is still an angry one - we're just standing further away.

🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

Mm - Madeline Cracker in Daventry? Doppelganger dialogue? Neese adventure?

🤡How many Wips are you actively working on?

Mm, actively? Path of Kingship and Rippling Consequences. Kinda sorta considered in progress? "Lilac Spell," "Anisette and Graham reunite and it doesn't go smoothly at first," "Graham and Neese AU possibly involving a chandelier," and "Ken vs. thorns." So, like Mickey, six. Kind of.

[chaifootsteps]

I'm with Metallica Anon on Vaggie being killed off. Probably the only Hazbin character with a spec of rationality and she gets whacked. Viv really belongs in a special place in Hell, and I mean the actual Hell where souls actually suffer.

Also Metallica Anon, the politician you quoted was Madeline Albright.

Vaggie was such a necessary character. She was the knuckle-cracker, the stick in the mud, and whether she was secretly an angel (is it even a question at this point, is that just what she was?) or just a sinner who shouldn't have been in Hell, there was so much potential to explore her story.

If Vivzie does kill her off, I have zero faith in her ability to at least make it a worthwhile character death.

[garlic-sauc3]

What's King's quest about

ok so the King's Quest 2015 reboot. you play as Graham Cracker, hes got a red cape with a shit ton of pockets (it acts as the inventory, he can put literally anything in there, even people and baby dragons) and his adventurer's cap. you start by getting a magic mirror from the dragon's cave hidden under the old well. thus give you a sort of set up to the game mechanics, but also sets up the concept of the three different paths you can take throughout the game (compassion, strength, or wisdom) by how you choose to escape the dragon in the end (compassion by setting it free, strength by shooting it in the other eye (it already has an arrow through one), or wisdom by distracting it with the dinner bell) and you escape with the mirror.

after this, it gets revealed that the gameplay is actually stories that the old king (graham) is recounting to his granddaughter, gwendolyn, which is where some of the cutscene inbetween playing it comes from, as well as some of the dialogue to stop you from doing some actions, and also to prevent you from dying ("I don't remember that happening," "it cant end like this," the grandpa snoring, etc) and also as an intro into the gameplay

the next story you play is set before the prologue, when graham was just a knight hopeful going into daventry to compete in the tournament to become part of the royal guard. there are a few events leading up to getting into the competition (graham didnt see the date change so he misses the parade, he falls of his steed, triumph, and tumbles down a cliff, meets a merchant, steals a psuedo-wheel, etc) but once you finally get into the tournament you have to pass the chivalry test and meet all the knights, where theres Whisper (think daring charming type, hes also very fast), Acorn (has a squirrel friend, princess madeline of avalon), Manny (small, voiced by the guy who played vizzini, forms a secret alliance with graham), and Achaka(archer, purple, only says achaka and puts his fist to his palm and closes his fingers around it, very cool) once you pass the test and answer all the questions correctly, you move onto round 1: getting the eye of a hideous beast. you learn several different ways you can do this, and also meet all the different villagers: amaya, the blacksmith (represents the path of strength), the hobblepots, an old sort of witchy couple (represents the path of wisdom), and wente, the baker (represents the path of compassion). eventually, after talking to people, looking at things and finding items, you find your way to the old well and see achaka going down there, and you follow. you determine to get the eye of the dragon and follow achaka through several different obstacles. eventually, though, achaka teaches you to use a bow (previously, you couldnt shoot for shit), achaka get kills by the dragon and you can escape with or without the beast's eye.

the death of achaka really effects graham (and impacts him throughout the rest of the game) and he almost quits the tournament, but manny convinces him to stay. after you find an eye and finish the first round, you go on to round 2, the battle of strength, the battle of speed, and the battle of wits

you compete against acorn in the battle of strength and win by outsmarting him. you compete against whisper in the battle of speed and win by distracting him and also at one point you fly off your horse and use kyle and larry instead (they were running around earlier and also you met them previously but I dont remember when) and it's just a stack of three guys. somehow you win.

the last battle is the battle of wits against manny. it starts with him bringing in 3 cups of raisin juice that he puts some hypnotic powder into and it gets mixed around and you have to choose one, which you inevitably choose the hypnotic one, the game gets pulled out and you have to do what manny says. you lose the first time, but the knights dont trust manny and ruin the board and you have to play again. you're allowed time to prepare and can put a color changing potion you got from the hobblepots earlier into one of them. this allows you to know which one is without the hypnotic powder. now, you can win either fairly or by cheating. but once you win, manny challenges you to a battle of strength and tries to kill you. you're offered weapons to fight him with by the villagers, again representing the different paths you can take, and eventually win. this finishes chapter 1

(I've left out some of the other tidbits because I kinda forgot them since I havent played chapter 1 in a bit but at one point you help the guild of bridge trolls that are on strike, among other things)

chapter 2, the story is set when graham is king and focuses on how stressed he is about being king and having to be in charge of the kingdom and a bunch of decisions, while he is still tormented by the loss of achaka. kyle and larry are there briefly in the beginning. but also you and the rest of the village gets kidnapped by goblins and you have to get them out and try not to have any of them die. in the end graham comes to terms with not being able to fill the legacy if the old king, and instead build a new one. it's a pretty stressful level.

chapter 3 is about getting a wife, I dont remember a majority of the details because it's been forever since I've played it. chapter 4 is the same deal but also it's a whole thing about your family.

but mostly kings quest is really fun and has a bunch of puns and jokes and fun characters and really fun puzzles and it's just a fun game with knights and kings and stuff. also kyle and larry are a highlight. and so is amaya.

[doodlebard]

The Mourning-Girl

TW: suicide, death

The Mourning-Girl

Madeline Levers stood atop Hillside Crescent, the tallest sea cliff in town, and tried to remember how she’d gotten there.

The day Madeline signed up to be a Mourning-Girl was the sixth anniversary of her mother’s death. She’d made the trek up to Winterbury Churchyard alone, delicately carrying a bouquet that she’d harvested herself. The cold wind gently caressed her hair; a welcome sensation to distract from the hot summer dusk. As she silently knelt at the sun-warmed stone, she said a prayer. Madeline felt tears prick at her eyes (Madeline was annoyed at herself: hadn’t she gotten rid of that? It had been six years; everyone was over it by now. Everyone but her.) but refrained from getting too personal in her speech. Familiar clusters of murmuring people speckled the graveyard, reminding Madeline that she wasn’t alone. 

As a girl, she’d been visited by other mourners and now recognized some of the groups scattered about: the Monroes stood off by a small cherry blossom tree, the Gracelands looked as elegant as ever, and the Berry children were ferrying packed plates of aromatic food and a large picnic basket to their grandfather’s resting place. The Berrys were the first to notice Madeline visiting alone each month and always invited her to share their picnic (cheer, they said, honored their grandfather’s memory much better than solemnity ever could). The Gracelands were quiet but sympathetic to her breakdowns. The Monroes were the closest; Madeleine almost considered them family. Katie Monroe loved sharing her animal crackers with Madeline (she had a tradition to place one on each grave before leaving), Buster Monroe had no end to his reserve of kind words, and June Monroe always had a hug for her whenever a day was especially hard and she needed someone’s arms to collapse into. Today, though, the families seemed preoccupied with their own lives. Madeline didn’t feel like being bothered, anyway.

As she’d placed the white hyacinths on the cold tombstone, she’d noticed a rare sight. A lone girl dressed in black and a preacher solemnly lurked in the shade of a willow tree, peering down at a small stone and a closed casket. It was cheaply made and likely one of the state-funded ones; Madeline could tell from the mismatched strips of wood roughly nailed together that it wasn’t made for comfort. Not that that was applicable. As the preacher left and the coffin was buried, the girl stayed, staring down at the stone and silently contemplating… something. Madeline watched her kneel down to the earth and then leave with a stony face and empty eyes. Madeline watched her with moderate interest, observing the Mourning-Girl until she faded from view. The sunset spattered over the horizon, framing the girl’s retreating silhouette.

Madeline didn’t know why, but she found herself staring down at the stone under the willow tree. Entranced, she remained long after the sunlight had faded from the sky. She could barely make out the name: Michael Ives. No epitaph was inscribed. Madeline stood, entranced by the sheer emptiness of the unloved man’s grave site. An overwhelming sense of regret flooded her, pitying the stranger’s sorry life. 

Before leaving, she’d left a hyacinth on his stone too.

The grey-eyed men taking the papers barely glanced over Madeline, overly preoccupied with handing her a thick binder of agreements and a pen. The interview process was short and the legal documents were too long for Madeleine to care enough to read. But the pay was good and her uncle would sign anything she brought as long as she said it’s just a form for school. He never read over them. In hindsight, Madeline thought, maybe he should’ve. 

As Madeline received her uniform — a simple black dress with a long skirt and a long veil — she had a flicker of doubt. There weren’t many girls in her grade, never mind Mourning-Girls. It was a job always surrounded by a haze of death, so no one ever wanted to take it on. The only one she’d known, a senior named Carolina Eager, had supposedly never been the same. Eager had disappeared three months after taking on the job, and no one knew where she’d gone. There were whispers, of course. But nothing was confirmed;  at least, not publicly. Carolina’s family had moved a year after the disappearance, going no-contact with anyone from the town. The previous Mourning-Girl had disappeared a year in, and the one before that lasted only three days. As a result, it wasn’t a job with the best reputation. But being an important state-sponsored job to boost the mental health of the community, being a Mourning-Girl paid better than any other part-time job could. And Madeline needed the money for her senior year: the year she planned to run away and never come back. 

She filled up her brain with ideas of first-class seats and starting a new life to get through the dark nights wandering the churchyard. Her notebook overflowed with fake names and printed pictures of the big city. With this dreary job, a bright future now seemed within her grasp.

It was easy at first. Madeline could go to school, do her homework, and make it to Winterbury all before dark. Her job didn’t call her in very often, so she had time for the rest of her life. It wasn’t necessary to have her around for every ceremony, after all (though some people did pay extra to have her help populate a crowd; no one ever liked going alone). Sometimes the deceased had family, but all known relatives lived out of state. Sometimes there were no known relatives. Sometimes they just weren’t in the records or no one ever came to collect the body. But it was always quick and never for anyone she knew. The job slowly integrated itself into her daily life. 

It got harder once her classmates found out where she was employed.

Madeline had never been popular, but at least before she’d been somewhat noticed. People liked her enough to give her the time of day. One time, she’d even been invited to a grade-wide unofficial party. She hadn’t gone, of course (her uncle hadn’t allowed her out past curfew back then), but it was a nice thought. But now, due to the ominous nature of her job, most of her schoolmates started to avoid her like the plague. 

“Anyone who spends that much time at the cemetery must be half dead.”

“She’s going to hallucinate ghosts and go crazy. Wanna bet on how many days she’ll last?”

Madeline tried to explain that it actually wasn’t very often and that she was still paid for every day she remained employed even if she didn’t do anything that day, so it’s pretty cool and that it was actually a  very peaceful job, but no one ever listened. 

As finals came and went, the solitude took its toll. Previously a star student, Madeline now barely scraped by in her classes. None of her teachers cared enough to question her sudden disengagement from her class. Madeline didn’t really care; she knew that many of them barely even knew her name. She’d always been quiet, after all, and she suspected that that helped others easily ignore her. 

As the calendar pages turned and her sophomore year faded into a distant memory, Madeline stopped caring. The more empty gravesites she stood by, silently watching brightly lit processions surround other tombstones, the more she felt the chill of loneliness creep down her spine. Custom dictated that Mourning-Girls were not to be disturbed at their jobs, so Madeline found no comfort at the graveyard. Not anymore. She sometimes caught Mrs. Berry’s pitiful glances and, sometimes, Davie Berry threw a frisbee out of reach and skittered closer to recollect it, but they never came closer. One day, they stopped coming altogether. 

Madeline supposed that her newfound gloom was to blame; it was enough to kill her social life, and it must’ve killed their picnics as well. The other mourners also stayed away from Madeline, cementing her theory. The Gracelands had long since moved from Selmerstown, having moved on to bigger and better things. Even June Monroe, who Madeline had considered close enough to be family, stopped coming to the churchyard. Madeline tried to persuade herself that the Monroes had also moved, but their brightly lit windows on Elmer Street said otherwise. She wondered how anyone could leave the bodies rotting in the ground. All alone. After all, many families had moved on with their lives, taking memories and trinkets. Leaving the gravestones to populate the ever-growing graveyard.  Leaving the bones behind. 

When did a body cease to be a memory and become bones? She didn’t know. 

Madeline wondered how long it would take her to just become bones.

The seasons fell by in a coloured blur, and soon enough, a thin auburn layer littered the ground. Madeline knew the names of the bones hidden below those leaves better than she knew the names of her classmates. Michael Ives. Evelyn Summers. Catherine Arlington. Mary Selmer. And so many John and Jane Does. So, so many. For authenticity, she learned each name and wrote them on her heart. If you asked Madeline Levers what the fundamental theorem of calculus was, she would blankly stare into space for hours, searching for an answer, before coming up with nothing. But she could recite the names carved into every headstone on the south side of the graveyard in alphabetical order by first name, last name, or death date. Her job as a Mourning-Girl took over her head and her heart. 

As the perpetual grief settled into a thick blanket over her mind, Madeline pondered Carolina Eager, the previous Mourning-Girl, night and day. What had driven her to become a Mourning-Girl? Had she felt the same way that Madeline did now? Thoughts of Carolina started to cloud her brain. One particularly grey afternoon, Madeline stared down at her Ancient History of Rome, Unit Three test booklet to find that she’d written Name: Carolina Eager in the top right-hand corner. The rumours surrounding the only Mourning-Girl at Lakeview High only grew as Madeline’s attire morphed three shades darker and her eyes dulled with her clothes. Madeline didn’t care.

When The Sickness came, Madeline lost her sleep to the early dawns at the churchyard. She dragged herself through her 8-hour school day, sleeping through lunch, then pulled herself up the hill to the south side of Winterbury Churchyard for another few hours. Even though The Sickness was cured as quickly as it arrived, the damage done by Madeline’s lack of sleep was irreversible. The poignant depression of her job seeped into her bones and drained her livelihood, and the circles of children avoiding her in the hallway grew larger. No one wanted to be infected by the depressive aura that Madeline emitted. On the rare occasion that she noticed anyone else, Madeline caught an expression on anyone looking at her: some mixture of fear, pity, curiosity, and disdain. Maybe she’d worn that exact expression the day she saw the girl on the hill. 

Madeline considered dying.

Maybe she was already dead.

When Casey Springer broke her leg, Madeline knew something was wrong. As her classmates clustered around Casey, screaming that her knee was bending the wrong way oh my god that’s disgusting, Madeline stood back. She’d seen much worse. The leg was still attached — it could still heal. There was no need for such fuss: after all, Casey wasn’t dead. 

Not yet, at least. Everyone dies eventually.

At that moment, Madeline realized that she had lost her empathy for others  – a trait that her report cards had praised way back then – or at least, she’d lost any sympathy for the living. Spending her nights crying over strangers she’d never known had hardened her heart, and she no longer cared about physical injury. Things could always get worse. She’d seen the proof in the gravestones littered across Winterbury Churchyard.

Thoughts of death haunted Madeline. She spent more time thinking about that poor little boy with no name buried in a cheap casket after his body was found on the side of the 105-2 than her upcoming calculus test. She spent more time thinking about peaceful Evelyn Summers and the family that only lived 30 minutes away but couldn’t be bothered to go to her funeral than about cute boys or cute girls or anyone in her grade. She spent more time thinking about the 200 unnamed bodies on the south side of the graveyard where they buried the unloved than her eating habits (which were slowly dwindling to nothing). In a way, she related to the bodies lying six feet under more than her classmates. They were all unloved and forgotten by the world, only knowing death as their permanent existence. The only difference was that Madeline was still alive. 

Madeline sat down one night next to her mother’s grave (she hadn’t had a chance to visit it recently, given how busy she was) and wondered about how these unloved people felt right before they were about to die. She wondered how they’d lost everyone who loved them. She wondered if they’d known they were going to die, or if it had hit them out of the blue before they realized it. She wondered where they went after they died. She wondered where she would go when she died. And of course, she wondered how she would die. It was inevitable, after all. 

Madeline Levers spent more time thinking about how she would die than she spent living.

Despite over two years having elapsed, Madeline had never had to mourn the body of someone she knew (or knew of). That fact sometimes surprised her; Selmerstown was fairly small. Still, she supposed, that meant everyone knew each other. Everyone would turn up to a funeral, so Mourning-Girls were seldom needed for Selmerstown deaths. Yet on Tuesday, May 26th of her senior year, it finally happened. Madeline’s newest assignment was to visit the grave of a body that had recently been discovered, having washed ashore after it was dislodged from a rock on the nearby sea cliffs. The autopsy revealed no struggle and, besides, there was no way to get up to the sea cliffs without extreme (and voluntary) dexterity. It was a suicide, plain and simple – and an old one, too. No one showed up to claim the body (presumably, all relatives had moved and long since cut off contact with anyone in the town), so Madeline was called in.

On May 26th, Madeline had to mourn the body of Carolina Eager, the previous Mourning-Girl of Lakeview High. 

Madeline didn’t know why, but seeing Carolina lying in an open, cheap, casket in the same dress she now wore (Carolina’s was much more worn and tattered, but not destroyed enough to be unrecognizable) broke her completely. She wandered through the next few weeks, slowly stumbling toward graduation like a zombie. Two weeks before graduation, she remembered her sophomore-year plan to run away after turning eighteen. The plan that used to give her the spirit to make it through the long graveyard shifts and precalculus units now seemed frivolous and unrealistic. She’d amassed a few thousand dollars to her name, but her uncle had taken it from her. The spending money she’d managed to squirrel away was nowhere enough for a bus fare to get far enough away from Selmerstown, never mind the plane ticket she’d dreamed of. Besides, she’d probably get kidnapped or killed far away in a county where no one knew her name long before she got to establish a new life. No one would know her name and her body would turn up in an alley dumpster. And then another Mourning-Girl would lose her sanity at her grave.

Madeline Levers felt stuck. She was stuck in Selmerstown. The only college that had accepted her was the community college in Alita County; a mere ten-minute drive away. Her dip in grades and lack of motivation the past two years had killed any chance of going anywhere she might’ve dreamed of and, besides, she had no money to afford to go to any of those fancy, distant schools. She was stuck in her own body, subsisting in the routine she’d embedded in stone for the past two years. She’d made it longer than any other Mourning-Girl she knew of, but she didn’t know if that was an accomplishment or a weakness.

As she passed the clusters of girls clogging the hallway (who had long since forgotten she existed and exclaimed in surprise when she bumped into them), she heard them talking about what dress cuts they would wear to graduation. One snidely asked Madeline what type of dress she would wear to graduation. Another laughed, saying that you probably should wear white since graduation is the only time you’ll ever wear a white dress to a ceremony. The group laughed, but Madeline didn’t care. She wasn’t planning to shop for a white dress for graduation. She wasn’t planning to shop for any dress. She knew she wouldn’t make it to graduation. 

The night before graduation, Madeline Levers didn’t go home.

The climb to Hillside Crescent sliced open Madeline’s knees and shredded the lace of her veil. But she kept climbing, navigating through the twisted trees and hopping the run-down chainlink fence. After an hour, Madeline finally found herself looking down at the churning waters below.

A sudden thought struck her. Madeline impulsively stripped off her black dress and veil, standing only in a thin white underdress. If she was going to die, she didn’t want to die as a Mourning-Girl. Yet even though she was only skin and bones shivering in an unremarkable dress, Madeline couldn’t shake the feeling that the title had imprinted itself too deeply into her being. There was no escaping the yoke she’d borne for the past two years. She was and would always be a Mourning-Girl. The realization chilled her.

If Madeline could’ve cried, she would have. But tears had long dried from her resigned face, leaving only a dullness in Madeline’s heart. Madeline apathetically recollected the series of events that had gotten her to the cliff, knowing that anyone who ever loved her was gone. She knew her uncle wouldn’t notice her disappearance until the funds she’d gotten dried up. Even then, she knew he wouldn’t go looking for her. She knew that the graveyard groups had all moved away. Maybe, she thought, they felt that they had lost her too. But most of all, she knew that it didn’t matter what county she died in to warrant a Mourning-Girl. 

When did a body cease to be a memory and become bones?

Madeline now knew the answer: she had become bones the second she signed the contract. She wondered what would have become of her if her uncle had stopped her from becoming a Mourning-Girl. She wondered if people even knew her name, or if they only thought of her as “Lakeview’s Mourning Girl”. She wondered if Carolina had the same thoughts as she stood at the same precipice. And then Madeline stopped thinking. No matter what could’ve been, things wouldn’t change. She stepped off of the ledge, the chill wind in her hair for the last time. 

As the Mourning-Girl fell, she hoped they wouldn’t hold a funeral.

[rottenbrainstuff]

BG3 playthrough - exploring Moonrise and the rest of the shadow cursed lands

Lots of spoilers beneath the cut

Ah! Feels so nice to be home and done the holidays and nestled back comfortably into my BG3 brainrot.

I’m really enjoying the dark urge flavour in Moonrise - it is creepy as fuck how everyone recognizes me. The audience with Ketheric was absolutely chilling for a resisting durge. For my run, this was the first big reveal I had that my past is even more worse and complicated than just being some random murder pervert who lost their memory. My poor tav. This whole tower is just horrible. Jk Simmons does a great job with Ketheric. I wasn’t sure what to expect considering the characters he usually plays, but he’s remarkably soft-spoken here, and I think that’s a great way to make a villain seem more frightening. There is SO MUCH dark urge stuff in here. Like I said before, I’m honestly sad I picked dark urge as my very first playthrough… I feel like I should have saved it for a later playthrough when I was feeling bored with the game. I unknowingly picked all the most interesting options to do first!

I do seriously regret playing Dark Urge as my very first playthrough though. I know the game warns you not to select it if it’s your first time, but I feel I just misunderstood the warning. I thought it was more of a warning that it makes the game harder for brand new players who are just figuring things out. I had no idea I would regret it because of the extra content it adds in that really objectively would have been much better if I had saved it for later. The two things I regret: reading spoilers about the dream guardian, and picking Dark Urge for my very first playthrough.

Anywho, I’m also cleaning up the little threads I have left on the shadow curse map… got Madeline’s journal for He Who Was. The internet sure likes him but I couldn’t help him punish Madeline: I was surprised to read the journal because of how clear it was that she didn’t fully understand the consequences and only made a mistake. This means I won’t get the raven gloves, sigh. (his raven is hilariously mean btw, be sure to use speak with animals the first time you meet them)

I found the approvals interesting for this scene. I had Wyll, Gale, and Astarion in my party. Wyll and Gale ONLY disapprove of me convincing Madeline to stab herself, and NOT if I tell Madeline the deaths were her fault (which I mean I think objectively they really are not, not in the way that He Who Was is blaming her for anyway). They don’t really care about what’s fair or not - they just don’t like it if it gets too messy! Astarion on the other hand disapproves of you telling Madeline it is her fault, or it isn’t. He dislikes either choice. He has no reaction if you make her stab herself. Interesting, interesting.

With my tav’s slipping grasp on his sanity, I wanted to do the option where you piss off He Who Was by making Madeline stab herself twice, as like, thinking of a clever way to harm this messed-up shadar-kai whose cheese has clearly slipped right off his cracker. My tav lately has been all about trying to do the right thing via a gruesome route. The dialogue with this route makes it seem though that you wanted to hurt Madeline and just got carried away, so in the end I went with forgiving her. Man how horrible, imagine dying an untimely death riddled with guilt about a mistake that you made that killed your friends, then some little elf shit comes along and animates your corpse in order to get off on your fear. This was a short and understated encounter and I kind of like that. I don’t know much about the shadar-kai so I am curious what mission He Who Was and the others were supposed to be doing in the first place, and how his abandoning of his post played out. I love how messed up this shadow curse is.

I also chatted with Thisobald. I was quite surprised to see that in my list of stories to tell him, I had the option to tell him a story about a village that thought I was their protector, but I massacred them all. Boy oh boy. I wracked my brain trying to figure out what the hell that was referencing. I was concerned maybe something was triggered wrong with the tiefling siege and the game has recorded that I killed them? Or do they mean the goblins in the blighted village that I attacked after I made friends with them? Or something else? What on earth? What did I do wrong?

I looked around online a bit… it seems other durge players have this happen as well. If you actually attacked the grove, you have a different story that specifies it was tieflings you slaughtered. This story is included at the very beginning of the list, which seems to be otherwise chronological. A warlock apparently has the option to tell a story about making a pact with their patron, something that happened before the game even started. So it seems the best guess currently is that this also is something that happened before the game started. Yikes. Poor tav. I’m trying my best to help you be better.

Played hide and seek with Oliver - I didn’t realize you can’t trigger the end of the game until you stop sneaking, so that “fun” game went on a lot longer that it needed to, wow. My tav really likes children so it was upsetting to run into this poor little ghost boy. I know he’s attached somehow to the Thaniel quest stuff, so I hope we can do something for him later when I tackle that plot point.

My oldest daughter who is playing finally saw the Emperor. I was waiting and waiting for that, because she had such a STRONG negative reaction to the dream guardian right from the get go, and was really weirdly angry about all the ambiguity and questions that they weren’t answering. She chose to try and kill them in the astral plane. I was so curious to see what her reaction would be when she found out that the reason they were being so suspiciously vague this whole time was that they were a goddamned mind flayer. Surprisingly…….. She’s pretty ok with the character now! Like, I think she might end up siding with it in the end, even. She’s totally ok with it being a manipulative, selfish, jerkass mindflayer…. She’s just happy it’s actually being honest now. LMAO. My oldest kiddo is funny. It’s been fun following along with her as she’s playing, but it’s also a little frustrating, because she misses SO MUCH STUFF as she whizzes through the game. She’s not concerned about completing every single detail. She is happy leaving things to discover in future playthroughs, and in fact has even left some things unresolved on purpose to try later on, ie, Ethel’s hut, the underdark, stuff like that. In a way I think that’s probably a better way to play it than what I am doing, where I have a ridiculous amount of logged hours but I’m still only about halfway through the shadow cursed lands and honestly there isn’t going to be a lot of new content for me to discover in the future beyond just little race and class dialogue variations. But it’s annoying for me, because I want to know what she did/said in certain situations, and her answer half the time is, I just didn’t find that! Lol.

Next up I guess is the tollhouse, then on to the house of healing after that. Can’t wait to get there - the soundtrack for it sounds demented. Or maybe I’ll go to the orthon and trigger Astarion’s second romance. I have zero regrets so far for giving Astarion one level of bard instead of leveling him up properly as a rogue. 10/10 would do it again. He even landed a vicious mockery on He Who Was.

[quieteating]

New Post has been published on Quieteating

New Post has been published on https://is.gd/YNoF1k

Petrus

I approached Petrus with trepedition.

The last time I had eaten at one of Gordon’s more upmarket places (Royal Hospital Road), I was told (rather rudely) that I was not allowed to take photos.  Even though I went for the full taster menu as a bit of a celebration, I ended up leaving hungry.  After multiple courses, you would think that would not happen.  Poor form.

Petrus is the other London Michelin starred restaurant in his portfolio that is still alive.  The rest best RIP as things have not gone well in the last few years for him.  I was curious to see if perhaps this was an unfortunate turn of events or if it was somewhat justified.

Petrus, like his 3 star at Royal Hospital Road, is in a very affluent part of town.  Just look at how straight and uniform the pathway and houses are.  Hard to see that in other places in London.

As a distraction, next to Petrus was an interesting shop, where I passed sometime.  It contained all manner of Swedish/Japanese goods, in particular these lights.  I hoped that as this was next door to the restaurant, a light bulb moment might translate across to Petrus.  I live in hope.

At first I thought this was a pizza.  Instead, this is the pretty plate setting.  Excellent presentation.

Avocado and lobster tart.  The first amuse bouche, it was nothing special as although the avocado was very green, the lobster was a bit sparse leading to a lack of meaty taste.  Then again, it was an amuse bouche.

Cheese goujon.  In comparison, this cheese ball was really not bad.  Crunchy on the outside, soft inside, the cheese made up for the lack of umami in the other amuse bouche.

French onion consume.  The third of the amuse bouches.  Excellent with extremely concentrated essence inside a small thimble full of soup.  A lot of theatre on hand as this was brought out as this soup was poured out from a teapot.

Bread.  To provide a bit of texture to the meal, this was bouncy and with a bitter crust.  The crust to interior mixture was rather good with contrast making both elements better.

Cornish Mackerel Escabeche, heirloom carrots, fennel, saffron, oxalis.  Pretty to look at, rather more boring to eat.  Perhaps an example of form over substance.  On a flavour profile, it was neither great nor bad but rather a bit boring.

Cumbrian beef tartare, savora mustard, dill pickles, pastrami flat bread.  Here, the presentation aligned with the taste. Delightfully meaty, filling and with bounce.  The highlight of the meal.

Black pepper crackers.  They cracked.  They were peppery.  They were nice with the tartare as providing some crunch.

Cote de Porc, apple, pickled walnut, pommery mustard.  One of the mains, this was disappointing.  Even with the large slab of fat, it was dry and tasteless.  It looked great though.

Confit salmon, ratte potato, coastal herbs, citrus beurre blanc.  Starting on the positives.  The fish eggs added nice depth to the sauce.  The potato was shaped well.  However, the potato was a bit too lumpy and with other parts a bit too smooth, so didn’t fit the texture of (a) mash or (b) potato.  Instead it seemed like a failed attempt at mash.  The correct texture seemed to be MIA.  As for the the salmon, it was bouncy and overcooked.  Perhaps confit is better done in a fatter piece of meat.

Lemon parfait, honey, lemon thyme, yoghurt sorbet.  This managed to combine two flavours which can go wrong is badly done.

Sour and bitter.

This was badly done, although perhaps keeping in the journey of this meal as it was a “just dessert”.  Just something I wouldn’t like to try again.

Raspberry gel.  One of the petite fours to try and take away the sour taste that might be in your mouth.  Although this was sweet and sour at the same time, not in a nice way.

Some other type of gel.  Also didn’t impress.

Chocolate drop.  Pleasant in a store bought way as nothing special going on here.

Madelines.  Very floury.  Not to be confused with flowery.  These tasted of little but dough.

This meal was a lesson in form over substance.  Things looked very pretty but underneath there was a lack of anything real.  Perhaps, an accurate reflection of some politicians I know.  Although, at least with restaurants, you can choose not to relive the trauma.  With “leaders”, unfortunately, you don’t really have much of a choice and often they don’t seem to get their just “desserts”.

  A quiet eating 4/10.

Lunch (3 courses) was GBP60 excluding drinks and service.

  Petrus

1 Kinnerton Street, Knightsbridge, London SW1X 8EA

[kursed-curtain]

Assorted lil guy doodles

He's simply a friendly little changeling who wishes to love life

[jimblejamblewritings]

let us help you | part 4.

Summary: The team is absolutely in love with one of the SHIELD recruits and hopes she joins the team considering she already lives with them. No one knows that she has several eating problems not even the two super-soldiers who seem to hang onto her even more than the rest of the team

Warnings for the Series: self-esteem issues, eating disorder, angsty, smut

Pairing: Stucky x black!reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

Morgan’s apartment was nice. She lived alone in a one-bedroom, not too cramped. Her personal style of sophistication was clear to see as not a thing seemed out of place and looked like it had purpose occupying the space. Training ended up having a practice mission over the weekend so it wasn’t until the next week you guys could have wine night, but Morgan was determined to have you all over.

You had given in and accepted the wine— wine being the only alcohol you would consume in your moments of clarity. Beer and others still felt like they would give you a beer belly overnight. Morgan was very liberal with what she considered a small glass. It was clear her intentions were to get everyone drunk, not that you minded since it was just the four of you. If any other recruits were there you wouldn’t dare risk loose lips or doing something embarrassing but these guys weren’t just potential teammates but, dare you say, actual work friends.

“Are they really different from training when they’re all relaxed at home?” Clark asked you.

They were intrigued with yours and the Avengers’ domestic life. While you weren’t going to invade the others’ privacy too much, like saying Nat owned several pink items of clothing or Tony and Bruce had matching Science Bros boxers, you did share funny moments and innocent stories. You almost choked on your wine at Courtney’s next question.

“Who’s the better kisser, (Y/N)? Cap or Sarge?”

“W-what makes you think I would know?” You stuttered through the question.

“Wait, you’ve kissed them?” Clark asked, this information being new to him and Morgan.

“She’s dating them,” Courtney said like it was fact and you wanted to know how the hell she knew anything.

“I’m not da—”

“My cousin’s Madeline Washington, told me you were beaming about it at the reunion. She just had to ask if it was true, not that she didn’t believe you but you know. And she knew I was with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

You sat back, knowing there was no getting around it now. You didn’t think about any of your classmates being related to other recruits. At least it was Courtney who found out, you were sure you would’ve died if it was Ryan or Lisa. She put a hand on your knee.

“Don’t worry, stays between us. No way we’re giving those dicks more ammunition.”

Morgan and Clark agreed with her and then leaned forward expectantly, wanting you to answer Courtney’s original question.

“It’s too different to compare. Buck’s a little more demanding, leaves me breathless every time. Stevie’s gentle usually. But he does this thing where he pulls my bottom lip between his teeth and I don’t know where he learned that but woo, chile,” you giggled, alcohol already going to your head.

The night continued with the alcohol, lots of gossiping about significant others, and mock fighting as you tried not to be too loud and disturb Morgan’s neighbors when you pinned each other to the floor. You were thankful it was supposed to be a sophisticated wine night— even if it didn’t end up that way— because Morgan only had charcuterie boards for food and you felt fine eating the bits of meat, fruit, and crackers.

Your phone started ringing and Clark was the one who brought it to you guys’ attention because he was practically screaming as he held it up. Bucky’s name and picture was up on your screen.

“Answer it on speaker!” He threw the phone to you. You shook your head but did as he said, the others trying to be quiet as you did.

“Angel?”

Courtney pretended to faint at the pet name.

“Yes?”

“You want to elaborate on that video you just sent us?”

You had already forgotten about Morgan saying you all should send sexy videos to your partners. In a tipsy haze, naturally, you all agreed and helped each other make them. You were in charge of Clark’s, making him look as buff and attractive as possible with the perfect lower angle as he danced to Courtney’s playlist of songs to start the mood. Courtney had way too much fun with a can of whipped cream per Morgan’s suggestion. Morgan was suddenly an expert at dancing on a table top, you guys almost ruined her video when the camera was almost dropped as she started stripping and you saw her in a lace number that was so different from the plain sports bra and boy shorts during training.

Courtney, who was in charge of your video, was over the moon that you were wearing fancy underwear as well as she suggested— demanded— you strip and pose on Morgan’s armchair. You suggestively ate a popsicle and sent it off to Steve and Bucky without much more thought, putting your clothes on and going back to talking.

“What video?” you asked in the most innocent voice.

“Oh you’ve got jokes now? She thinks this is funny, Stevie.”

You and your friends’ eyes went wide, not expecting Steve to be there too. Morgan had to grab a pillow to keep herself from running around the room. The line seemed to go dead and you were about to say something when Bucky’s voice came back sounding two tones darker than normal.

“Remember last week, angel?”

You bit your lip at the thought of your first time with both of them just last week. Muting the phone, you quickly confirmed what your friends were thinking.

“What about it?” There was an air of defiance with your tone.

“Thought we said you were such a good girl for us. That video’s far from being a good girl and while we’re on a mission.”

Courtney hit you in the arm and muted the call.

“Call him, Sarge. See what it does. Do it, do it.”

Everyone needed a second to squeal it out before you unmuted the phone.

“And what are you going to do about it, Sarge?”

You guys were giddy with the sharp intake of breath that came from Bucky. This time it was Steve that answered.

“What do we normally do when you guys act up, (Y/N)?” Steve was using his captain’s voice. “I expect an answer, recruit?”

“Punishment,” you answered.

“What do you think it should be for that little stunt?”

The others were encouraging you to do the same thing you did to Bucky to Steve. It was sort of a rush having your friends there as they all pooled ideas to try and work up your boyfriends as much as possible. You had to admit you were also curious about where and how far exactly the two of them would go.

“Whatever you think I deserve, Captain,” you whispered into the phone.

He had the same sharp intake of breath that Bucky did. You would’ve been satisfied by both of their reactions alone, thinking they might not keep going. You guys heard on the phone as Steve talked to Bucky, purposely loud enough that you could hear but also acting as if you weren’t even there.

Morgan poured everyone another glass, technically only the second but again her liberal glasses made it hard to judge how much it actually was. Courtney and Clark were pretending to fan themselves as they heard Steve and Bucky talking about what they might do— hearing their mentors talk like this was such a foreign sound. Your friends’ attention turned from the phone and to you with Bucky’s next words.

“Weren’t you struggling so hard to take us, angel? What do I remember you saying, felt like you were being split in half?”

Morgan looked away, tipping her glass to her face, feeling like she was going to blush hearing words not directed towards her.

“How do you think a punishment will feel? You really want that?”

There was a softness in his voice. He and Steve were giving you an out from the more rough side of their sex life. Secretly they hoped this wasn’t just for show and you wanted it like them, or were at least willing to try it.

“I can handle it,” you assured them and even though you couldn’t see it, they both had dark smiles on their face.

“What happened to the formality and respect?”

“I can handle it, Sarge.”

“Oh don’t get shy now. You started it with that video and those pictures. Can you give us a word, (Y/N)? Sarge needs a word before we hang up the phone with you.”

You couldn’t believe you were doing this in the presence of your friends but they just kept grinning and encouraging the debauchery right in front of them. You looked at them for help in coming up with something. Morgan, who did this with her partner, informed you it should be something you are never likely to say during sex but also memorable so you don’t forget.

“Angel?” Bucky asked after the long bout of silence.

“I’m thinking, Sarge. Gemstones.”

“You really love your eyes, don’t you, doll.”

“Hard not to when Captain says they’re an abyss, you two always gettin’ lost in ‘em.”

“You’re getting a little bratty, angel. Watch yourself. Gemstones, that’s our word.”  

“When we get back from our mission, be prepared, angel. Couldn’t walk the next day, how long you think it’ll take you this time to stop walking funny. Our pretty doll’s gonna be a little broken doll.” Steve dropped his voice even more.

You gasped and shoved your face into a pillow while the others’ jaws dropped in silence. Steve and Bucky chuckled.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” Bucky asked.

You nodded and then realized they couldn’t see you. “Yes, Sarge. Yes, Captain.”

“There’s a good girl,” Steve’s voice returned to normal. “We’ve got to go, see you when we’re done. Okay, pretty doll? Love you, bye.”

“See you soon, angel. I love you,” Bucky added.

“Bye, Stevie, Buck. Love you both.”

The minute the phone cut off, you found yourself at the bottom of a dogpile as your friends jumped on top of you. They were making all sorts of noises, some indiscernible. Only when you complained about being able to breathe did they get off.

“Who knew Cap had such a dirty mouth?” Morgan exclaimed.

Clark nodded, almost dropping his glass. “Expected that from Sarge but… you get both of them, how do you handle it?”

“You heard Sarge, she doesn’t,” Courtney laughed. She laughed even as you hit her in the arm with the pillow.

It was a pleasant surprise when Sam knocked on the door to Morgan’s apartment. Between the video, phone call, and the giggles that they could clearly hear because you seemed to forget they were enhanced, Steve and Bucky had called Sam and asked if he would take you back to the compound instead of you driving. So he had Happy drop him off and would just drive your car back. You practically pulled Sam into the apartment.

He could tell why they had asked. You and the others were giggling like crazy over the stupidest shit and there seemed to be no end in sight. While he refused the wine since he was the designated driver, Sam did eat off the charcuterie board. It was nice seeing you with recruits from your department that you actually got along with. Sure you had the team and other people in S.H.I.E.L.D., for instance in the IT Department, but it was important to have colleagues in your division that you could get along with. Especially because even though the Avengers were a special team, sometimes they went on missions with field agents.

~~

Steve was two steps into the room when he saw you sprawled across their bed, taking full advantage of the fact that neither of them were there. You knew they were coming back around a couple of tentative dates so since two days ago you had started sleeping in their bed, aside from the time you crashed in their room when Sam took you home. It had been about six days since the wine night.

Since he was up as one of the trainers that week, despite having just come back from a mission, he stripped out of the suit and put on some gym clothes. He laid down on the bed next to you, centimeters away from your face, seeing if you would wake. It was maybe only two seconds after he started staring that your eyes popped open.

“Steve, you ruined my sleep. I had…” you reached over to check the time on your phone. “Forty minutes left, dick.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

He laughed because you were right. “Just missed you, angel.”

You weren’t going to be able to fall back asleep so you crawled onto him, laying down on his chest. Steve thought you looked adorable as you looked at him with sleepy eyes. You scrunched your nose after he poked it.

“Me and Buck’s mission got split up so he’s not coming back till the end of the week. I was thinking we could on a small date tonight, pretty doll. Live show and dinner… your face, (Y/N).” Steve gently traced the area under your eye.

“What?”

He grabbed your phone and opened it for you to see the area was littered in red freckles. You looked in confusion and brought the phone closer to your face and then pulled it back as if that would change it. Steve noticed the way even you seemed surprised.

“That wasn’t there yesterday, I don’t think.”

“What did you do yesterday?”

“Ate breakfast with Sam, got my ass whooped in training cause Ryan’s a piece of shit, took lunch in the lab with Tony and Bruce. I went down to the simulation room, got my ass whooped again by bots. Team dinner… I ate the rest of you and Buck’s ice cream, not sorry about that.”

“You were fighting in training and then went to the simulation room?”

“Yesterday was not my day Stevie, glad Sharon was training us. I don’t think Nat would let me live down getting my head slammed against a mat multiple times. Took him down once with the thigh move though so little victory.”

“This time I think you actually pushed yourself too far.”

“Hmm?” You gave him a head tilt.

“I know last time it was…” Steve hesitated to say anything.

“Throwing up, bulimia. You can say it Steve, the word isn’t going to trigger me. Out of anything, it’s the medical term.”

“Well, last time it was that. But you’ve been doing fine, remember Dr. Cho said it could happen from overexertion. Yesterday seems to count.”

“I’ve gotten my ass beat before, Stevie.”

“Just telling you what I think.”

You sighed. “Okay… you’re not benching me today.”

“(Y/N).”

“We can’t just take breaks because we’re tired, bad guys don’t rest. Is there any blood in my eye?”

“No, just the capillaries underneath.”

“So I’m fine.”

“You were slammed into the floor by bots.”

“If I can flip you will you let me go to training, Stevie? I think that’s fair enough to show I’m not over worked.”

Steve thought it over and agreed. You had only ever been able to flip him twice before and that was at your peak fitness in the middle of the day on a good day. Right now it was early in the morning and you were tired. He felt that if you could do it now then maybe you were right, you might’ve pushed yourself too much yesterday but you’d be fine for training. You both stood up, you shivering as you left the warmth of the comforter. Steve had to refrain from teasing as you held up a hand to stop him because you had to yawn first.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

He came at you and you grabbed his wrist with one hand and shoved the other one into his shoulder. There was a bit of struggle as you lifted him but his back was on the bedroom floor in no time. You stood over him, smiling, clearly proud of yourself.

“So, I’m off the bench. Right, Captain?”

He stuck a hand out and when you went to help him, he pulled you down making you laugh.

“Just don’t work yourself too much. You can still get sick from pushing too hard.”

“I’ll be careful, Stevie. Just don’t let anyone give me punishment today.”

Steve leaned into your ear. “Oh no, pretty doll. Your punishment is waiting for when Sarge gets back.”

You shivered. Steve pecked your lips and then kissed your cheek. The two of you got off the floor, Steve mentioning you still had twenty-five minutes left before the alarm but you had given up all hopes of going back to sleep. So the two of you decided to go downstairs for breakfast and look at the restaurants near the live show to pick where to go.

He didn’t make it obvious but Steve was watching you intently as you scrolled through the phone while eating the omelette and toast he fixed. You absentmindedly nodded after a particularly good bite and then held the phone out for Steve, who had ducked his head down before you had a chance to cast your eyes up.

“This place looks nice. It’s supposed to be traditional and authentic Italian, the pictures of the pasta look good.”

Steve relaxed. You had eaten almost all of the breakfast he made and suggested a place with hearty food. And he made note of what you had said you ate yesterday, lots of his and Buck’s video calls with you were over meals.

“Doesn’t look bad, doll. You think we’ll need reservations?”

“Nah, seems mom and pop. I bet their kids made the website for them but I don’t think it’s a place with a long waiting list.”

“Then it’s a date. Buck said you busted out a real pretty dress last time.”

“Would you like me to put on a fancy dress for you as well?” you asked with a bit of sass but entirely good natured.

“Please?”

You smiled and gave him a peck on the lips. “One pretty, rose number coming up.”

The two of you finished breakfast and Steve left to prep the training room while you put on gym clothes. You took Steve’s plate along with yours and threw away the little bit left over. When you heard the elevator doors close, you hung your head over the sink and aggressively shoved two fingers down your throat until you gagged. Looking at the mess in the sink as the water washed it down the drain, you kicked the bottom cabinet in anger. You had been doing so well. And now you had to go around hiding and ending video calls early with Bucky and Steve so you could throw up the little they saw you eat and throw the rest away when no one else was watching.

You gripped the edge of the counter to refrain from doing it again when you thought of how upset they’d be if they found out. Pulling yourself together, you got ready so you could go downstairs and start working out with everybody else. It was going to be a long day, the first half starting in the training room and then moving to counterintelligence training before being done.

You elbowed Courtney and Morgan as they, along with Clark, were trying their hardest to not laugh as Steve entered the room again and you all stood in a line. You saw the slight smile on his face before he became stoic and realized he and Bucky knew exactly what had happened and that your friends knew. You were just trying to figure out did you reveal it or did Sam? Considering Sam was more your ride or die than he was theirs, you assumed your silly drunkenness exposed you.

Today was technically a free day on the training schedule, so Steve figured he would prep all the stations and let the recruits decide what they wanted to do or even if they wanted to stay in the gym. He was getting suggestions from everyone, including the mock HYDRA base at the very back of the compound which sounded pretty enjoyable. The mock base was new, S.H.I.E.L.D. had finished it only last weekend. The thought was the floorplan could be rearranged to mimic a different building layout every single time and the trainer could type in whatever setting for the bots, constantly changing the simulation.

“How about you, (Y/N)?”

“Hmm?” you asked, clearly not paying attention since you were still trying to shush your friends.

The rest of the class naturally gave looks and were readying themselves in case Steve asked one of them what the punishment should be. Steve was internally smirking, not thinking the opportunity to fluster you was going to happen so quickly.

“I asked if you had another suggestion otherwise we’re going to the mock base.”

You paused to think if there was anything else aside from the base that might be enjoyable for a relaxing training day just like Steve hoped you would.

“I expect an answer, recruit.”

Morgan had to turn her head into Courtney’s shoulder as she tried not to laugh. Courtney and Clark were biting the inside of their cheeks as hard as possible to not make a noise. You went wide-eyed and started to stutter. Should Steve probably let it go? Maybe, but he wasn’t going to as you stumbled through the beginning of an answer. He moved to stand in front of you. It took all his willpower to keep his hands clasped behind his back instead of taking one to lift your chin up so you would meet his gaze since when you looked straight ahead like everyone else it wasn’t eye level.

“Do you need to stay behind recruit while the rest of your team gets started until you can give us a proper answer… everyone clear out and meet Agent Wilson at the mock base to get started. Seems one recruit would rather have a lesson today.”

The others cleared out, you watched them all start to file out while Steve’s eyes never left you. Your friends filed out last. They gave you thumbs up and wagged eyebrows behind Steve’s back as they walked out.

“You think he’ll make her run at his speed?” you heard someone ask.

“Hope he has her do his workout.”

“That’s too brutal, he trains like a MAC truck, she might actually die.”

“Well then, I hope he at least keeps her the whole class.”

That was the last comment you heard before the heavy doors slammed shut. Steve finally moved as his hands found your waist. His kiss started off sweet before the signature dragging of your lip between his teeth. Your hands that were fisted in his shirt moved to wrap around the back of his neck in attempts to bring Steve closer to your height, tired of having to stretch up to meet him. Steve laughed against your lips.

“Jump,” he mumbled.

You tensed up, Steve thinking it was from the command.

“Steve, I’m t—” you started to panic before changing the answer. “If someone comes in.”

“Promise they won’t, doll.”

You gasped when he didn’t command again but just lifted you up. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his center. Steve’s lips pressed to your neck, not enough to leave a hickey but enough that you felt him, as he walked towards the door. Your back hit it and Steve began to grind on you.

Between the door and his left hand, Steve easily had you pinned so he moved his right one to rub circles over your cloth-covered sex. You bit your lip to stifle a moan. Steve removed his lips from your neck to watch. Your eyes snapped open and your head dropped to look at Steve when his movements suddenly stopped.

“Wha— what, I was…”

“Sarge’s idea for the first part of your punishment. You didn’t think you’d get to finish without both of us here. Did you, angel?”

“But, that’s— but—”

“Safeword?” Steve asked.

You shook your head. Steve stepped back and lowered you to the ground, opening the door so you guys could walk out and head to the mock base.

“Then take your punishment, doll. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll be able to convince Sarge to let you cum right away when he gets home.”

“Aren’t you Captain? Why do we have to ask, Sarge?”

The hallway was empty but you were aware it was still a risk if someone came around the corner as you put your hands on Steve’s chest. You reached up to try and kiss him, hoping you could convince him to agree and shove you back into the training room to finish getting you off. You thought it might have worked as Steve started to lean down. He grabbed your arms from his chest and held them away from him.

“You just made your punishment worse.”

“Wait, no,” you whimpered.

“Training. Let’s go, your team’ll probably halfway through the first simulation by the time we get down there,” Steve said.

You looked at him with a dropped jaw that he met with a sickly sweet smile that he usually gave at Tony’s parties to people that came up to him. You closed your mouth and stomped off.

“You’re being a brat, angel.”

“Don’t care. You and Sarge are mean.”

He laughed and followed you to the mock base. You wouldn’t look at him the whole time except once when only Sam was watching to poke your tongue out at him before running into the base with everyone else. Sam laughed, even though he sided with you on principle alone, when he heard why you were suddenly giving Steve a cold shoulder.

Of course you weren’t actually mad or very annoyed with Steve. That was confirmed when you finally shot him a smile as you all left the mock base for lunch. And then again when he winked at you across the cafeteria and you subtly blew him a kiss, Clark who sat right in front of you pretending it was for him to help throw anyone off. You mainly pushed around the salad, taking a bite every now and then because you knew Steve might be watching.

It was easy to pretend that you just hadn’t noticed you didn’t eat that much when you were talking with Courtney, Morgan, and Clark because people would just assume you were too engaged in conversation to remember to eat at the same time. You left to go to counterintelligence. Studying up on mental exercises was just as important as working out. There was no point in being a good field agent when it came to fighting if you had no smarts.

Like expected, classes ended with just enough time for you and Steve to get ready before having to head downtown for the show. The same way you thought it was cute if you and Bucky got dressed separately, you made Steve do the same. He didn’t really see how it made a difference but you insisted it added some specialness back into it since you guys lived together, so he went along with it and got dressed in his room while you went to yours.

The rose dress was a short number— not bodycon, somewhat frilly— that you had worn a few times but never on a date. Because of the zipper that allowed you to put it on from the bottom, you decided to do your hair and makeup first. The foundation easily covered up the broken capillaries and you were back to looking by before. You spritzed your favorite perfume and gave your head a once over to make sure everything was set before grabbing your dress.

Your breath caught in your throat as you pulled on the zipper. It wouldn’t go up. You pulled it down and tugged it up your side again but it got stuck again, a little higher than before. Your breathing got shallow as you muttered no and tried again, feeling tears threaten to spill from your eyes.

Steve was in the elevator headed to your floor to knock on the door and pick you up. He was a little more dressed up being in a suit but not fully formal like a tux would be. Steve heard the retching as he got close to the door and barged in without even bothering a knock. He reached your bathroom to see you hunched over the toilet, dress halfway zipped.

“(Y/N)?” he asked hesitantly and watched as your whole body froze.

“No” you said barely above a whisper, not moving from your spot.

He watched you snake a hand up to flush the toilet. Stepping from the doorway, Steve walked further in and you closed your eyes as the footsteps grew nearer. His touch felt burning hot on your shoulder and you shoved him off.

“Don’t touch me!”

You sunk back away from the toilet, staring at your dress. Steve stared at the hand that you still had dangling over the toilet, two fingers covered in evidence. It was the first time he had ever seen you do anything. You let the tears flow now, streaks of black from mascara and eyeliner already starting to run down your face.

“I fucked up.” Your clean hand picked at a piece of lint on your dress.

“I fucked up. Sam picked me up and we stopped at a diner so I wouldn’t be hungover. Then I felt like shit because it was past 10:30 when I ate, way past. And then you and Buck called and it was before run time but I ate breakfast early anyway and I’m not supposed to do that.”

“Doll, those rules are arbitrary.”

“No, no. They’re there so I don’t get fat and look what happens when I don’t follow them. I ate you and Buck’s ice cream for dinner and other things and none of it was good.”

“Is that what you consider bingeing?”

You nodded as you slowly got up to wash your hands and brush your teeth, still having not looked at Steve the whole time.

“We watched you eat over video, those were all normal size maybe even a little sm—”

“Too big. They were too big and I broke the rules and now I can’t fit in the dress,” you said with a mouthful of toothpaste.  

You were growing irritated that Steve wouldn’t drop it. You wanted him to leave so you could just fall asleep and act like he didn’t witness any of it in the morning, you were probably going to sleep in your own room that night. Steve stood up from where he had bent down to initially check on you and walked over to where you were staring at yourself in the mirror. You were silent as his hands slowly placed themselves on you but you didn’t shake him off this time.

“This dress?”

He pulled the zipper up all the way and closed the little clasp. You looked down at it, shaking your head in disbelief. Steve’s hands left you. The zipper hadn’t been hard for him to close at all, considering the dress still had room once it was all the way on you.

“But it didn’t… I saw it wouldn’t zip.”

“The zipper must’ve hit a snag,” Steve said.

What he wouldn’t tell you was that it zipped with no problems. There were no snags or loose threads. You had convinced yourself it didn’t fit. Whatever you saw blocked you from seeing reality and you genuinely imagined it wasn’t closing.

“The red freckles, you’ve been throwing up since our first call.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I thought you two would— I didn’t want you guys mad at me. I said I would get better.”

“We would never be mad about it. It’s a real problem you’re going through, us yelling isn’t going to help you with anything… we asked you to let us help you. You have to mention a relapse for us to do that. We’ll never yell, no judgement.”

“Okay,” you mumbled.

“Will you take a walk with me?”

You took Steve’s arm, not noticing him grab the makeup bag on your counter. You looked in confusion when the walk was to their room, more specifically the bathroom. Steve asked if he could lift you up and you let him sit you on the counter. He pulled out your makeup wipes, riding your face of the black streaks down your cheeks and the smudged lipstick around the mouth.

“Your hair’s perfect, you really pulled out all the stops with it. I think a lip color closer to your lips would really emphasize it.”

Steve rummaged through your bag until he found a color slightly darker than the tone of your bottom lip. Applying it gently, he stepped back and admired his work. His hands danced up the sides of your dress again, playing with the zipper before gently pulling it down.

“I think maybe we should have our date at home. What if I drew you, is that a good date idea? Will you let me draw you, pretty doll? Capture how you are. That seems like a fun date night?”

“I’d like that.”

You followed Steve to the couch in their room. The dress fell off of you and he carefully peeled off your underwear, wanting you to trust him and not feel too vulnerable. You let him direct you in a pose as he set a soft, decorative pillow underneath your head. Steve grabbed one of your largest headscarves from the drawer of the nightstand on Bucky’s side. He draped it, rather artistically, over you.

“FRIDAY, please play classical music.”

You watched Steve flutter about for all his art supplies as the first note of the piano played. He taped up a decent sized cut of paper. He began to draw, eyes with a new air of focus. Since he wasn’t working on your lips till the very end, Steve asked for you to tell stories of your childhood. Things you remembered or whatever you used to enjoy.

It wasn’t hard to draw you, he honestly probably could do it from memory. Steve was intentional to draw you exactly as you were— not someone else’s idealized style and not in your warped perception either. He was sure to get every birthmark, mole, anything that made you, you.

You took a short break, Steve leaving to get you a smoothie, knowing it was the one thing you would eat. He was good at being a quick sketch artist, able to capture details in a short time. So while this drawing was taking a long time because he wanted it as right as possible, Steve was able to finish it and color it. He grabbed various copic markers and walked to the couch. You turned from the side pose you had been holding to lay flat on your back as Steve straddled you. He placed a scrap piece of paper on your stomach and began to play with the markers, blending the colors until the paper matched your skin.

“There we go. Why don’t you take a shower and get ready for bed, angel? Let me finish up the drawing.”

Steve blocked your view from the drawing as you walked into the bathroom. He got on the phone as he colored to let Bucky know what all had happened. You had voiced concern on wanting to tell him but not feeling like you could will yourself to say something again.

“Is she okay?”

“I think she’s fine now, Buck. But you never know.”

You came back out and Steve told you to sit on the bed because he wasn’t quite done yet. The headscarf he draped over your for the portrait was the one you used to tie your hair up. Steve finished up and informed you he was going to shower, finally revealing the drawing to you. You traced it with your fingers, admiring the work. You wiped at your eyes, not wanting tears to drop on his work. Steve came back and crawled into bed with you.

“That’s what we all see… well, Bucky and I are the lucky ones to see the whole thing.”

You chuckled. “I want to frame it. It’s beautiful, thank you Steve.”

“Of course, pretty doll.”

You set down the drawing and tangled yourself up with him. Steve petted your arm and traced gentle patterns on your skin. He pressed a kiss to your head. Steve watched you for a minute.

“Angel?”

“Yes?”

“I’m happy for your existence. That you’re here with us.”

(end)...

[tornbetween2loves]

My Heart Torn Apart, 5 Years Later

A Dangerous Match

This is the next part in my series My Heart Torn Apart, 5 Years later. Chapters should be read chronologically. You can find previous chapters on my masterlist here.

Book: The Royal Romance. It takes place after book 3 of the original series and does not consider any events that occur in The Royal Heir or the Royal Finale.

Pairings: Liam x Drake x Riley. This is a poly relationship, so please don't read if that's not your thing. Also Bastien x Olivia. Some parts of this series will be NS*W, and all parts contain adult themes. This particular part is pretty lemony so please don't read if you are under the age of 18.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry, I am simply borrowing them.

Olivia lingered outside the entrance to the royal apartment, waiting for Bastien to finish giving orders through his headset. She gave him a coy little smile as he turned to face her, his steel-grey eyes swooping from her feet up to meet her emerald pools. He swallowed as his look gave Olivia chills.

“I’m sorry about dinner,” he said, his voice a bit more throaty than usual. She smiled and took a step closer so he could breathe in her scent. “It’s not like you don’t have a good excuse,” she said. Then she lowered her voice and whispered in a sultry tone, “I’m still hungry. How about a midnight snack?” She winked at him and he swallowed again, audibly.

He just couldn’t believe the effect this woman had on him. It took all of his restraint to keep himself from kissing her right here. He imagined her wearing nothing but those stilettos and back-seam stockings with her fiery hair wild and green eyes dark with lust. What was happening? He tried to push his thoughts away as he smiled at her. “I think that sounds perfect. I'll be relieved shortly. Do you care to wait here or shall I meet you?” Olivia leaned forward again to whisper close to his ear, “I’m not letting you out of my sight this time.” The feel of her hot breath on his neck sent flutters to the pit of his belly. He shifted uncomfortably to accommodate his hardening member. He was speechless and breathless as she smiled and took a few steps back to lean against the wall.

Bastien cleared his throat as he tried to focus on business. “So I assume there will be a press conference tomorrow, correct?” Olivia nodded. “Yes of course. Do you have any idea of Madeline’s whereabouts?” He shifted his weight as he shrugged and avoided her eyes. “I’ve sent patrols out to search for her. They will be covering all the routes from here to Fydelia.” Something about his response did not sit well with her. She felt like he knew more than he let on. Maybe Liam was right to not trust him. Perhaps his loyalty should be in question.

She smiled at him as a guard approached them and Bastien pulled him to the other side of the hall to debrief him. There was a definite spark between her and Bastien. But she had to stay focused. She had to earn his trust completely, become his confidante. She swallowed as he turned to face her. He took his earpiece from his ear and took a step toward her as he held out his elbow for her to link her arm through his. “Ready for that snack?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Most definitely,” she said with a smile as she slid her arm through his. He led her down the hallway away from the royal apartment.

Olivia squealed when she realized where Bastien was leading her. “We’re going to raid the palace kitchen, aren’t we?” Even though she hadn’t meant a literal midnight snack, her stomach rumbled at the thought. Bastien smiled and nodded as they slipped into the dark kitchen. She released his arm as he walked over to the far wall to flip the light switch. Olivia couldn’t help but smile as she opened the large refrigerator to peruse its contents. “This is so cool. Liam, Drake and I used to come down here late at night to raid the kitchen for snacks.” She grabbed a plate of cheese and crackers and set them on the counter.

Bastien smiled at the duchess from across the room. “Yes, I remember.” He crossed his arms across his chest and chuckled as Olivia popped a cracker with cheese into her mouth and looked at him in surprise. “You knew? I don’t understand. How…..” Bastien giggled again and crossed the room before he responded. He grabbed a cracker and some cheese. “Lady Olivia, I knew everything that happened in this palace, it was my duty. It still is my duty.” He popped the snack into his mouth and motioned upwards. Olivia followed his gaze and saw a small camera lens embedded into one of the light fixtures. Her mouth dropped open as she looked around the kitchen. Now that she had noticed one, she could see those little cameras everywhere. “Oh my god. You mean, you saw everything that happened in this kitchen?” Bastien grinned as Olivia’s face flushed deep red.

“Lady Olivia, I see everything that happens in public areas of this palace. Once again, it is my duty. But you don’t have to worry.” He popped another cracker into his mouth. He gazed into her eyes with a gentle smile and tucked an unruly strand of red curls behind her ear. “Discretion is also my duty,” he said softly. “Your childhood secrets are safe with me.”

Olivia couldn’t help feeling a bit flustered as she recalled all of the dumb things she had done under Bastien’s watchful eye. She remembered the brief romance she and Liam had when they were teenagers. He kissed her for the first time in this kitchen. She also lost her virginity to him, bent over the kitchen island in the middle of the room. And then there was that day about a year later when Liam was out of town and she and Drake had gotten hold of some whiskey and they went to the kitchen for some ice cream and they made out by that same island. Yes, Bastien knew a lot of her secrets.

She shook it off and smiled at him sweetly. “What happens in the kitchen, stays in the kitchen?” He laughed heartily. “Something like that, yes.” Olivia moved closer to him as she gave him a sultry look. She positioned herself directly in front of him and continued to move closer until she was pressed against him and he was up against the counter. “In that case, I guess I can do this,” she barely whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips into his. They kissed softly at first, then Bastien moaned into the kiss as he deepened it. He allowed his hands to roam freely, one tangled up in her hair and the other cupped her ass cheek and pulled her close.

Olivia forgot everything in that moment, forgot her focus, her mission. All she knew was Bas and how he made her feel. Passion flowed through her, all the way to the tips of her toes and back to the pit of her belly. She was breathless as he kissed her and she could feel his hardness pressing against her pelvis. She broke the kiss and moaned softly as she hiked her dress up to wrap one leg around his waist. They locked eyes as Olivia grinded into his pelvis.

“Oh, Bas, I–.” Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper as her emerald eyes grew dark with lust. She fumbled with his belt and unbuttoned his pants, then pulled down the zipper and slid her hand inside. She stroked him slowly as he slid his hand around from her ass and slipped it up the slit of her dress. Her legs quivered as his fingers slid her panties to the side and slowly circled her clit, then moved down and sunk into her wet center. Olivia trembled as she felt tension growing in her belly and she locked onto his steely gaze. She was so close. So close to being putty in his hands.

The vibration came from Bastien’s hip. Olivia felt it radiate into her leg as they both froze. His look changed almost immediately as he slid his fingers from inside her. He pushed her back slightly and buttoned his pants as he looked at her apologetically. “My apologies, Lady Olivia. I must check my phone.” She nodded, “Yes of course.” Her heart still raced and she felt a little breathless. She smoothed her dress and her hair and tried to compose herself, but she felt like her insides were jello. She watched him as he answered his phone, his voice even and professional. He moved to the other side of the room and Olivia was still so flustered that she didn’t even think to try to eavesdrop. How did he do that? He turned off his passion and emotions like a switch.

She marvelled at him as she watched him on the phone. And people thought she was the ice princess? Olivia was raised to control her emotions at all times, especially in public. She thought she was pretty good at it too.

But the duchess may have met her match.

************************************************

Bastien was more than annoyed when his phone vibrated. Inwardly, he growled in frustration as he moved across the room and glanced at the screen. Someone was calling him at this hour? The screen flashed ‘unknown’ as it buzzed in his hand. He pressed the answer button and struggled to keep his voice even and unemotional.

“Hello. This is Bastien.”

Silence. But he could hear shaky breathing on the line. He said hello again and listened to the same breathing. His annoyance turned to anger. “Look, I’m a very busy man. I don’t have time for games. Say something or I’m hanging up and I’ll have this call traced. Just because you blocked your number doesn’t mean I can’t find you.”

“I need to know where we stand,” a female voice whispered shakily.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of something to say quickly. Shit, she must be an idiot. Why was she calling him? “Now is not a good time. Have you reached your destination?”

She sighed deeply. “Not yet. I’m almost there. I had to stop for a bit.” Bastien rolled his eyes but kept his voice and demeanor unassuming. “You shouldn’t have stopped. People are on your tail. Get moving. We’ll be in touch.”

He hung up the phone and spun around right into Olivia’s arms. She looked up into his eyes innocently and smiled at him sweetly. “You’ll be in touch with who?” Bastien didn’t miss a beat. He smiled at her. “It was just Mara wanting a debriefing of tonight’s events. She just came on duty. I told her I’d talk to her later.” Olivia narrowed her eyes then opened her mouth to respond but Bastien did not allow it. He pressed his mouth to hers as he explored the inside of her mouth with his tongue. He pulled away after a few minutes.

“Lady Olivia, I have enjoyed our ‘snack’ very much. However, I am afraid I really must get some sleep. I have to be back on duty at 7am. May I escort you back to your quarters?” The duchess nodded dreamily as she gazed into his eyes. She laced her fingers through his, completely enraptured with him as he led her through the halls and to her door. He kissed her one more time, then said goodnight.

She opened her door and shut it behind her. She leaned up against the door and closed her eyes, her lips still tingled from his kiss and her body was on fire from his touch. Her stomach fluttered and her mind felt foggy. What the fuck just happened? She had never experienced anything like this.

Yes, the duchess had definitely met her match. A dangerous match.

@ask-kennaandval @nestledonthaveone @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @blackcatkita @lovingchoices14 @mrsnazariowrites @leelee10898 @darley1101 @innerpostmentality @texaskitten30 @lodberg @alesana45 @mom2000aggie @blog-just-here-to-read @angelasscribbles @indiacater r @tessa-liam @twinkle-320 @gkittylove99 @21-wishes @parisa-kh @killerkennacrisp @lyannacyrill706 @princess-geek @karahalloway @kat-tia801 @aussiegurl1234 @jovialyouthmusic

[yuesya]

I wonder if they had meeting about Madeline dating and the revelation that not only does their sister hate killing but she shuts off her emotions off on purpose. So that she will not be thrown away because she cares so deeply. This will probably be especially hard for katakuri since his whole deal with scarf and being perfect stems from his own trauma of not being able to protect his siblings. I also think this may also affect chiffon and cracker.

There would definitely be an emergency meeting for that! Katakuri takes Protecting the Family as a very serious duty, especially since the scar on Brûlée's face is because of someone who had a grudge on Katakuri, if I'm recalling things correctly. Something about not being strong enough to beat Katakuri, so he went after his sister instead.

Protecting siblings is very serious business! Katakuri was actually pretty happy that Madeleine had a lot of combat potential, that she also took her duties seriously and wouldn't flinch from blood if it was for the sake of the family-

And now this.

The revelation upends a lot of people's perspectives regarding Madeleine, really.

[dorkydiaz]

12, 16, 17, 25 💙

ah sorry i ma just getting to this kel <3

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

oooh 1. to have the motivation/inspiration to finish my wips 2. never have writers block again 3. idk!

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

pretty sure i used a cracker once 🤣

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

im not really actively writing anything atm to give my brain a rest 😊 but for one that i am going to finish is that includes that buck roller skates and maddie bought him his first pair.

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

hmmm, uhhhh, it could become relevant cause grace madeline is an always wip lol, but she becomes an architect :P

weird questions for writers