#*looking in the mirror* hmmmm is it masks all the way down… i wonder

[mars-ipan]

i love mafuyu so much but also she makes my own identity issues flare up

[secret-engima]

Last one! - the future’s blurry (but the past is a trap)

Time-Travel fic!!!!! Hmmmm- what fandom what fandom so many lovely choices....

FFXV. Because that’s my mood right now (as ever).

COR.

Cor Time-Travel fic. Cor who lives to see the end of the Long Night, Cor who HOPES and dreams of helping Noctis rebuild the kingdom after he restores the dawn, Cor who is Noctis’s godfather, Cor who PROMISED Regis the first time he held the tiny sleeping infant that is now a brave and wise king that he would PROTECT Regis’s son-.

Cor who stumbles into the throne room to see three brothers sobbing over the lifeless body of their fourth and king.

And Cor ... Cor breaks. He hides in some random, rundown apartment in the empty city and drinks and drinks-

“So this is how you’re going to accept fate? By drowning yourself in a bottle?” Scorns a voice he’s only heard one time in his life but still sends him scrambling for his sword. He whirls, heart in his mouth, blade in hand and sees not a towering suit of armor with glittering eyes, but a ghostly version of a fire-eyed twenty-something adult. A towering man of nearly seven feet, board shouldered and scarred on one side of his face, dark brown hair and piercing amber eyes that mark the Amicitia line, “I had hoped for better.”

“Gilgamesh,” Cor rasps and wonders if he’s lost his mind in his grief, “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” says the man with a sneer, “I should be moving on to the afterlife. I have been freed from my prison after all. The Prophecy is fulfilled.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

A pause, and the sneer, the confidence, fades away and leaves behind someone very tired and wrung out, “Because I have regrets, and you are the only one still alive for me to speak of them to. The Last Shield will not listen, he is lost in his grief and surrounded by the living. You are alone and you are open to my voice.”

Cor doesn’t like the sound of that at all, “You are not allowed to possess me.”

Gilgamesh laughs, short and sharp but oddly genuine, more animated than he ever was as a murderous suit of armor, “No. I have no desire for that.” Burning gold eyes lock with his, “I wanted to know if you still meant what you said that day.”

It takes Cor a minute to remember. Even if he knows what “that day” Gilgamesh means, it was years ago and he was an idiot at the time. Then Cor remembers, and his already broken mood sours, “I did. For whatever good it did. I’ve failed. They’re dead. Both of them.” Cor laughs and the sound is poison even to his own ears, “You were right. I am no Shield.”

“No. You are a Sword,” Gilgamesh corrects, “and you should have been treated as such. Instead you were sheltered and lied to, and those lies dulled your edge until you were useless to stop the death of those you cherished.”

Cor throws the bottle at the ghost’s head, listens to the shatter of glass as the ghost lets it phase right through him without a blink, “What do you want?” He roars at the ghost, fragments of his wild temper from his youth coming back to his bones.

“What my brother’s dear Shield is trying to say,” purrs another ghost that Cor hates even more, who also doesn’t blink when Cor draws his blade and tries to behead him, “is that we both feel terribly guilty. More than that, the rest of those who once were in the Ring feel guilty, and angry. We’ve also got a very spiteful and a very remorseful Astral respectively on our side in the matter, now all we need is a living human member of the conspiracy.” Ardyn Lucis Caelum, blue eyed and purified and just as dangerously mischievous as ever, grins at Cor as the human forms of Shiva and Ifrit manifest in his apartment, alongside far too many royal ghosts for Cor’s comfort (he firmly does not look at the ghost of Regis, sagging tiredly in a corner, the only one he recognizes other than Mors now that they are all human looking rather than giant statues with face masks).

“So,” The ghost of Ardyn purrs with a rueful smile, “what do you say to saving the world and your precious kings in one fell swoop and maybe spiting the Draconian along the way?”

And it’s a stupid idea. Cor probably isn’t even seeing any of this. He’s probably lying in the apartment, dying of alcohol poisoning and grief right now, hallucinating all of this as he goes. But if he isn’t.

If he isn’t...

“What do you need me to do?”

Their plan is simple on their end, and painful on Cor’s. They grab him and throw him back through time, drag him with them as one by one they use up the last of their magic and finally vanish, because for all Cor calls them ghosts, they are not. Living souls do not linger after they die, but memories can. Memories given shape and form by magic, and when that magic was used up and given away, the memories are shattered, turned back into the formless nothing they really were.

They carve open Cor’s being and pour their magic into it, Gilgamesh at the fore, leading the way through the howling abyss while each king and queen carves Cor open a little more and pours in the magic keeping him alive and sane as he plummets through time. Regis’s touch lingers longer than the others, a breath of apology on his brow before that memory too, shatters and falls away.

Mors’ fingers wrap around his wrist and Cor struggles for the first time as his blood burns under the king’s touch in a way the others had not, “Hold still,” snarls the man coolly, “I do this as a favor for my son and grandson alone. Hold still and let me work or you will die the moment you reach our destination.” Cor stills and his blood burns until Mors too shatters.

Then it is only Gilgamesh, Cor ... and Ardyn.

“Free me,” he whispers as he presses something into Cor’s hands (or maybe into Cor’s soul, it’s hard to tell where reality ended and magic began in this place), “Find my past self and free me, then give me this.” A chuckle, “Let’s see the Empire grow so strong without it’s Accursed to feed from.”

“What about Prompto?” Cor asks desperately, because he is here to save those he cares about, not condemn the man who was like a son to him to nonexistence.

“Have a little faith,” laughs the former Chancellor, “a King needs his Heart, and Noctis will have his. Now,” hands on his shoulders, a final yank from Gilgamesh, “Go.”

Cor wakes up.

He promptly rolls over and vomits onto the stone.

Gilgamesh, a towering suit of armor once more, watches him gasp and wheeze and shake under the too-sharp sensation of magic living in his veins and reality existing again after so much time falling through time and void without comment. When Cor is done and has staggered upright, Gilgamesh hands him a sword.

Cor leaves the Tempering Grounds unbothered by the things that lurk there and makes straight for the Rock of Ravatogh. He gains the waiting Infernian’s Blessing, then collapses in a caravan for the night after several days and nights spent walking without pause and sleeping on cold Havens without so much as a blanket.

After waking up and showering, he spends a good twenty minutes the next day cursing at a mirror.

He’s fifteen again. He’s fifteen years old when in the original timeline he would have been six (is six, somewhere out there the original Cor Leonis still lives and grows, unaware of an altered future counterpart).

He’s also not Cor anymore. His eyes are the same, icy blue and angry, his face shape is very similar-. His hair is not. His hair is black and thick and wavy, and under his skin, magic coils, deep and effortless and his, not a gift from another.

Those blasted ghosts turned him into a Lucis Caelum.

He thinks of Mors’ cold fingers on his wrist and burning in his blood, Mors’ angry demand he stay still if he wanted to “survive the destination” and swears louder.

Then he picks up his sword and disappears into the wilderness again. Let Shiva come find him. She had a talent for finding Lucis Caelums anyway.

She finds him in the Quay, as Cor steals a boat to make for Angelgard, she Blesses him and disappears, and in her wake is a winter mist that shields Cor’s journey to the isle from prying eyes.

He cracks open the prison with the magic he now has in excess, falters at the sight before him.

Ardyn looks a lot less like evil incarnate and more like a shivering, frightened, half-starved cat this way.

Also who hung up their prisoners on MEATHOOKS like some kind of slasher from a horror film?

Overdramatic Lucis Caelums, that’s who.

Cor hauls Ardyn down from his chains and carries the weak, disorientated Accursed outside. He can hear Ramuh stirring in the clouds as he takes the nameless Thing that Ardyn of the future gave him (magic, pure magic, an orb of it as bright as gold and the dawn) and crushes it against this Ardyn’s chest like he would a potion.

He sidesteps the black bile Ardyn heaves up like a drowning man ejecting water from his lungs, writhing and whimpering on the stone as Scourge smoke recoils off his body like it’s trying to escape, only to be burned clear by golden magic. Well. That was convenient. Pity he doesn’t have enough of those to cure the whole planet.

Ardyn stays silent, dazed and wide-eyed as Cor hauls him back to the mainland, steals some proper clothes and then bundles him in a caravan for the night. The man out of time flinches at every modern amenity, stares at the soup Cor roughly puts in front of him with confused eyes. Finally, tentatively, as if afraid of being struck (and that shouldn’t make Cor angry, it shouldn’t, this man killed both Cor’s kings and threw the world into darkness. He deserved whatever fear he felt, yet looking at him now Cor can feel nothing but pity and anger on the man’s behalf) he speaks, “Who ... who are you? You ... you healed me. I ... do not understand.”

And Cor pauses, because he ... isn’t Cor now is he? There is already a young Cor Leonis out there somewhere, and no one can know that Cor is one and the same person as that youth.

In the end he shrugs, “I don’t have a name.”

“...What?”

“I don’t have a name. I gave it up. It was the price for healing you.”

“Then why,” Ardyn asks incredulously, “did you heal me? I am a stranger to you, a monster.”

Cor scoffed. The Chancellor of his time was a monster. This man? This man was about as monstrous as a starving kitten, “Not anymore you’re not, so stop that.” At the sight of Ardyn’s frown, Cor rolls his eyes and says gruffly, “If it bothers you so much, give me a new one.”

Ardyn gapes, “You ... want me to name you. Just like that.”

“Is that a problem?”

The redhead stays speechless for a while and Cor busies himself polishing his sword and ignoring the fact that he’s now distantly RELATED to this man (and also, if he doesn’t miss his timeline, OLDER than Regis by several years. Thanks a lot Kings of Yore).

“Glaucus.” Cor twitched and looked up sharply, Ardyn shrank in his seat a little, “You don’t like it?”

It sounds too much like Glauca. But he couldn’t say that, and it was better than lots of other names Ardyn could have come up with. Even if he had no idea where Ardyn had come up with that name. Cor forced his shoulders to relax and went back to caring for his blade, “Do as you please.”

“Glaucus,” repeated Ardyn softly and Cor- Glaucus, resigned himself to having a name very similar to that of a traitor and imperial experiment.

Kind of fitting, considering the company he was keeping.

Glaucus set his sword aside and gestured toward the bed, “If you’re done eating, go get some proper sleep. We’ll be leaving once you wake up.”

“Where will we be going?”

Glaucus smirked and knew it was not a nice expression, “A place called the Tempering Grounds. There’s someone who owes you an apology.”

(anyway hi yes I have a new AU to keep. In it “Glaucus” is now an LC, specifically and according to blood test MORS’ kid and he’s about 4 years older than Regis. I shall expand on this new AU another time. Tagging @sparklecryptid @hamelin-born @a-world-in-grey @ean-sovukau @ertrunkenerwassergeist behold my newest insanity).

[mithranqueersmusings]

Baby, You’re A Rich Man VII

Chapter: 7/28

Rating: U

Summary: Ringo could never understand why that group of three boys made him feel so uncomfortable, or why the way George looked at him sent him into a panic. After a chance encounter Ringo discovers the truth and has no clue what to do with the information.

Tags: AU - Gangsters, Slow Burn, Smut, Eventual Romance, Violence, Angst

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo awoke to the sound of the phone ringing. As he was dragged forcefully from his sleep he wondered if it was possible to get any uninterrupted rest at George's place. He arose sluggishly and saw George lying peacefully beside him, looking so beautiful that Ringo almost didn't want to wake him. Almost, but the phone ringing was just too aggravating.

"George." Ringo spoke harshly, rocking the younger man somewhat forcefully in an attempt to wake him.

"Hmmmm?" George murmured, not opening his eyes and shifting slightly.

"The phone's going." Ringo couldn't help but smile at seeing George like this, all ruffled and sleepy.

"You get it." He muttered, turning over on his side in a defiant act to show that he wasn't going to be shaking off his sleep any time soon.

Ringo let out a huff, paused for a moment to see if George was going to get up, then slid out of bed himself to find the phone. The floor was cold beneath his feet and it only made him feel all the more awake. He located the phone easily and took a breath before lifting it up, he had no idea what was waiting on the other side. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off before he could get a word out.

"George! Thank God you're alright. I was in such a state yesterday and was hurried off before I could even check on you, I'm so sorry. How are you feeling? John looks like utter shit." It was Paul, and he could hear John protesting the remark in the background.

"Uh... George can't come to the phone right now. He's sleeping." Ringo spoke slowly, unsure whether it had been right to speak at all.

"Wha- Who's this?" Paul didn't sound any less frantic, Ringo could hear a weakness in his voice and he dreaded to think about the state he was in.

"It's Ringo... From th-"

"Ringo? What the bloody hell are you doing at George's? He didn't- Wait..." Paul's voice trailed off and Ringo supposed he had to explain, but wasn't sure how much his friends knew. Did they know George liked guys? Did George even like guys? Maybe he just liked Ringo.

"Well, he wanted to apologise for the other day so got me dinner. I had a bit too much to drink so he let me sleep on his sofa." Ringo was still hesitant, was he even meant to know about all this?

"Oh... Well that's great! Dunno why George didn't tell us." Paul immediately sounded more cheerful, but his voice was still masking pain "Is he alright though?"

"As alright as he can be, I think. He probably just needs some sleep right now. Will a doctor be coming to see him at any point?" Ringo tried not to think about the bruises all over George's skin.

"Yeah, yeah o'course. Some point today they'll pop round." Paul sounded so comfortable talking about this "Me and John should be heading home soonish, maybe we'll pop by."

"Ha, yeah sure thing." Ringo still wasn't sure what to make of all this, Paul was talking to him like they were buddies and it made him feel a little off.

"Well, I won't keep you. Just wanted to know George was alright, I'll let you get back to him." Paul didn't even give Ringo an opportunity to respond, he was already talking to John then hung up the phone.

Ringo felt uneasy about Paul's choice of words, maybe they did know about George after all. But even if they did, Ringo didn't want them know about him, he wasn't even sure if there was anything to know. All of the chaos from last night had made him almost forget about what he and George had done, what Ringo had allowed George to do. When he asked the question to himself, it didn't feel right to say that he was gay. But he couldn't deny it outright after how much he'd enjoyed last night, how much he craved George's mouth on him again, and how a girl had never made him feel quite like that. Maybe he wasn't gay, maybe George was just an exception... That didn't seem right either. Ringo let out another heavy sigh as he put the phone down, tentatively heading back to George's bedroom.

He opened the door slowly, trying his best not to wake George, but when he entered the room he saw that he was already awake. He was lying up on his elbows, still looking groggy, and passed Ringo a small smile.

"G'morning." He spoke roughly, having more of an effect on Ringo that he'd care to admit.

"Morning." He shuffled back towards the bed, not feeling entirely comfortable enough to get back under the covers "How you feeling?"

George tried to sit up further and groaned with the attempt "I've been much better, but I've been much worse. Believe it or not, being stabbed never gets easier."

"I can believe it." Ringo chuckled, finding it hard to hide the sadness in his voice.

"Who was on the phone?" George asked calmly as he began undoing his shirt buttons, Ringo couldn't pull his eyes away from his fingers.

"Paul. He was just checking up on you. Sounded pretty worried." Ringo explained, fiddling with the corner of the duvet as he forced his eyes to look elsewhere.

"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me. No matter how old I get he still treats me like a kid sometimes. Even when I'm the one saving his arse." George was taking his shirt off now, he groaned again as he felt his muscles crying out in pain "Can you do me a favour? Grab a shirt from my wardrobe, preferably one that isn't covered in blood."

Ringo sprang up from the bed and made his way to the wardrobe, it was one of those fancy built-in ones with mirrors on all the doors. In the reflection he could see George lying there shirtless, Ringo had never seen his bare chest before; his slim frame with the subtle lines of muscle running down his stomach and over his arms. Then his eyes fixated on the bandage covering his stab wound, it was dark with blood and needed redressing. George was looking right back at him, he didn't seem to mind being stared at, and when Ringo noticed this he busied himself with finding a shirt, trying to ignore the burning feeling in his cheeks. When he found a clean, white shirt for George to wear he carried it over to the bed sheepishly, handing it to other man. Ringo sat at the edge of the bed again, not wanting to face George with the fear that he'd keep staring at him. He heard George struggling and shuffling behind him as he put his shirt on, and Ringo couldn't help stealing glances in the mirror. It was silent in the room for a while, Ringo unsure about what he should do next.

"You've never been with a guy before, have you?" George said bluntly, startling Ringo and making him turn around with a stunned expression which made George chuckle "Sorry, I don't mean to be rude. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Ringo paused for a moment, looking down at his hands "No, I haven't. I've never even thought about it before."

"Wow, I'm just that irresistible?" George laughed, he wheezed somewhat.

"Suppose you must be." Ringo chuckled nervously "You been with a lot of guys, then?"

"Here and there. Being with girls just never felt right, you know? But I must say I've never stalked a guy into bed before." He was getting up from the bed now as best he could, he stumbled on his way up and Ringo rushed over to help him before he even realised what he was doing.

"Don't put it like that." Ringo mumbled, gripping onto George tightly to hold him up.

"Did you like it? Must've been pretty weird for you." George was relaxing his weight into Ringo, allowing himself to be supported.

"Y-Yeah I liked it..." Ringo looked up into George's eyes who, despite his feeble state, still had such a powerful look about him. "Did you think I was gay, when you met me, I mean?"

George chuckled "I dunno, I suppose I hoped that you were. I got lucky."

Ringo tore his eyes away from George, adjusting his position somewhat so that he could support him more "Is there somewhere you wanna go or are we gonna stand like this all day?"

"I can think of worse things to be doing." George paused for a moment "I do need a piss though."

Ringo began helping him walk out of the room "Well I'm not helping you with that."

"Why not? I touched your cock but you can't touch mine?" George flashed a grin, revealing his sharp teeth.

"That's not the same, and you know it." Ringo huffed, navigating his way to the bathroom and opening the door, trying not to think about how dirty the word sounded coming out of George's mouth.

"You're pretty strong, you know." George held himself up by the door handle, eyeing Ringo up and down.

"Side effect of lugging a drum kit around, I suppose." Ringo spoke plainly, trying not to focus on how George was looking at him.

"You drum? That's cool." George's tone lightened up "You any good?"

"I like to think so. Could always be better, I don't practice as much as I'd like. Only time I get to play really is my days off." Ringo explained, leaning against the wall.

"Like today? And here I am taking up all your time..." George grinned again.

"I can think of worse things to be doing." Ringo retorted, proud he was able to give George's words back to him, but they only made the dark look in his eyes more intense, putting Ringo on edge again. "Now go and piss, Christ. Anyone would think you're trying it on with me."

George laughed at this then retreated into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him slowly. This gave Ringo a chance to finally relax for a minute, he walked back over to the windows overlooking the street and just gazed out into the world. He didn't have any plans today, besides doing some drumming, but there was something inside him begging him to stay with George, he wasn't sure if it was just sympathy or something else. Eventually the man in question re-emerged, shuffling into the living room and smiling when he saw the smaller man.

"You want some breakfast? All I've got is toast but it's better than nothing." George already started heading to the kitchen and Ringo was quick to follow.

"All this money and you're living off bread and butter? And I thought I had it rough." He chuckled as George rustled through his cupboards.

George finally pulled out a loaf of bread from one of the cabinets, but disappointment spread across his face when he opened it up. Ringo just laughed, walking over and seeing the expiration date of two weeks ago. George just frowned and hobbled over to the fridge.

"Any recipes you know that include butter aaaaand... Two eggs?" George poked his head out from behind the fridge door to see Ringo looking at him amused.

"No wonder you're a bloody twig George, eating like this." Ringo looked through the cupboards, finding almost nothing.

"Well we go out to eat. At your place usually." George followed behind Ringo "Let's just go out."

"George you are in no state to be going anywhere." Ringo chuckled but felt somewhat startled with how close George was standing to him. "I could always pop down to the shops and pick up a few things."

George looked surprised at this suggestion, and Ringo wondered if he even knew where the nearest shop was "Sure, if you don't mind. Lemme get you some money."

Ringo was about to protest but George was already gone, he could move fairly quickly when he wanted to, Ringo noticed. He came back into the kitchen with another £20 note, which Ringo took reluctantly.

"What are you expecting me to buy, caviar?" He laughed but put the money in his pocket nonetheless.

George shrugged "Paul usually does my shopping for me, I never ask him to but he insists."

"Jesus... I don't know what's more dangerous, getting stabbed in the night or not knowing how much bacon costs." Ringo joked and it made George smile, he looked so beautiful when he smiled "I'll be back in a tick." He vanished to grab his coat from the living room floor.

Before he walked out the front door, George shouted thanks after him. Ringo just gave him a quick smile and a wave before heading to the lift. He still felt so out of place in this fancy building, especially without George guiding him through it. While in the lift his thoughts drifted back into dangerous territory, with pressing questions and uncomfortable realisations.

George had spoken about being with other men like it was nothing, like it was normal. Wasn't it normal? Ringo wasn't sure anymore. He had never been outrightly against the whole thing, but he'd never known any gay people and he certainly hadn't expected himself to have even the slightest attraction towards men. It was far too confusing, and the more he thought about it, the more the fear of the whole thing consumed him, and he had to shake it from his mind.

It didn't take too long to find the nearest shop and he picked up a couple of things to cook a nice breakfast. He wasn't sure when the thought had really come to him, it had just been instinctive, like they were already a couple or something. Ringo regretted thinking that word as soon as it left his thoughts - couple? He was acting like a schoolgirl, fawning over the first guy to give her any attention. He never acted like this with the girls he was with, not to say that he wasn't considerate or anything, but they'd almost always be gone by the morning and the most they'd get would be a couple of pieces of toast and a cup of tea.

He got a strange look from the doorman when he came back into the building, or at least he thought he did. Did he know? What was there to know? Ringo couldn't help feeling that there was some unspoken understanding of everyone around him about what he'd done last night. It made him shudder to think about it, and he had to push the thoughts from his mind as he climbed into the lift once more.

As he walked up to George's door he could hear voices inside, he paused on the other side and stopped to listen as best he could, it didn't take long for him to identify the voices of John and Paul.

"Jesus, George. The first time? I didn't even do that for John for months." Paul spoke, Ringo cringed as he guessed what they were talking about.

"I dunno, it just felt like the right thing to do y'know. It was his first time, wanted it to be special." George sounded different to how he did when they were alone, like he wasn't the dominant force anymore.

"Oooh, special. Did you get the candles and rose petals out too?" John chimed in and Ringo could hear one of the other boys shove him lightly.

"Shut up. I like him, alright?" George mumbled, and Ringo froze in place. Like him? What did that mean? Oh God, this was all getting too much. He couldn't bear to listen to this anymore, but he couldn't just burst in right now, it would be far too awkward, but he couldn't just run away either.

"Just be careful, George. I don't want you getting hurt again. After that last guy I didn't think I'd ever see you again, you and your bed had practically become one." Paul chuckled but his tone was serious.

"It won't be like that, Ringo's-" George was cut off by the door swinging open, revealing the man in question looking rather awkward.

"Ringo's what?" He forced a laugh. He just couldn't stand to eavesdrop of their conversation anymore, there was a reason George was saying this all in private, and as interested as he was, Ringo didn't think he was ready to consider what any of this meant.

"Getting breakfast." George smiled sheepishly, managing to get up from the sofa to guide Ringo into the kitchen.

Ringo tried not to look at Paul and John for too long, who were directly staring at him, their injuries were even worse than George's and it pained him to even think about it.

George helped Ringo unpack the groceries, he was still moving slowly but he didn't seem to be in as much pain as before.

"Thanks for doing this." George spoke quietly and Ringo wondered why he didn't want the others to hear.

"It's no big deal, honestly. It's the least I can do after that lovely dinner you got me." Ringo matched his low volume.

When everything was packed away, George moved closer to Ringo and trapped him in a corner of the kitchen. Ringo looked up at the taller man in alarm who was the picture of composure.

"I'd love to take you out again, Ringo." George whispered now and Ringo hated how much he loved to hear George say his name "And I'd love to make you feel good again." He moved his hand to Ringo's neck, idly playing with his hair "Would you like that?"

Ringo gulped and nodded "Yes... I'd like that very much."

George let out a low chuckle, rubbed the skin of Ringo's cheek with his thumb and planted a soft kiss on his lips. If there weren't two others in the room right next to them, Ringo wondered whether he'd push into the kiss more, desperate to feel George's tongue on his the way he had last night. He cursed John and Paul for being there, but the thought of doing that again with George, completely sober, also terrified him. The kiss felt like it lasted longer than it actually did, and Ringo let out a choked breath when George pulled away. George let out a satisfied noise and licked his lips subtly, before leaving the room to poke his head round the door.

Ringo could hear him asking the others if they wanted any breakfast, but it sounded like it was miles off. He stood rooted to the spot, his lips tingling in a way he'd never felt it before. It was no longer a question of whether he liked it or not, he knew he liked it and he wanted more.  

[inmyownlittlecorner5]

Moonlight Chapter 5: The Morning After

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter 5/26

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Four+

Chapter Six+ >>

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

Severus felt the late morning sun on his face as he gradually swam back to consciousness. The delectable memories of the night before swirled through his lucid dreaming and he dreaded to open his eyes. He knew that if he did he would be back in his wretched house at Spinner’s End, looking up at the pesky water mark that he could never quite remove from the ceiling of his bedroom. He kept his eyes stubbornly closed, trying to continue his dreaming, but he was awake enough now that that was impossible. He ran his hands experimentally over the bed and, while he was alone in it, he realized that the sheets were smoother and finer than his sheets at home. The bed was softer and smelled faintly of lavender. He opened his eyes and a smile spread over his lips as he saw Miranda’s airy bedroom rather than his own gloomy chamber. 

He heard a pleasant clatter of pans and dishes through the closed door and smelled a mixture of tea, coffee, and sausage. He stretched languidly and got up to dress. He took his time doing up the buttons on the front of his frock coat and idly studied the room as he did. The bed stood under the window that was letting in the sunlight. There was a bookshelf on one wall filled with novels and poetry and a handsomely carved cherrywood armoire standing on another. The final wall was covered with children’s drawings inscribed with the names of the various artists and dedicated to ‘Auntie.’ A framed piece of needlework with the inscription ‘From Mama’ hung in the middle of this gallery. The embroidery was a nicely executed border of roses surrounding a piece of Latin prose: ‘Nisi Dominus ædificaverit donum, in vanum laboraverunt qui ædificant eam.’ He scoffed at the sentiment and turned to the mirror hanging on the back of the door. His hair was a bit tangled from the previous evening’s exertions and he did what he could to neaten it. He turned and considered the bed for a moment. The twisted sheets both pleased him with their implications and irritated him with their disorder. He was toying with the idea of returning to the bed rather promptly following breakfast, but he decided it would be more entertaining to scramble the linens again rather than to leave it thus. He flicked his wand and the bed made itself up neat as a pin. Satisfied, he emerged from the bedroom to find his partner in crime. Miranda was standing by the stove, flipping omelettes with the efficiency of a short-order cook. She wore a long blue sheath dress and her feet were bare. Her hair flowed over her back, restrained by a copper colored scarf as she cooked. He approached her and pulled aside the curtain of her hair to drop his lips onto the back of her neck. She made a sound strikingly similar to a purr but said, “I’m afraid I’ll have to eat if you’re hoping for another round. For some reason, I forgot to have dinner last night. I can’t imagine why.” She smiled impishly over her shoulder at him. “I suppose I can overlook such weakness this once,” he replied smoothly, returning her smile.

She handed him a plate of omelette and sausage and they convened at the table which was already set with toast, butter, marmalade, tea, coffee, and The Daily Prophet. They ate and read in companionable silence and, if she spent much of the meal running her bare foot up his leg, he certainly wasn’t one to complain about it. When they had demolished the food and were loitering over coffee and tea, a bell over her desk started ringing loudly.

She glanced up from her half of the paper and gave the bell an annoyed look. “I’m going to have to answer that,” she said. “It’s my father trying to check in and he’ll think I’m dead if I don’t talk to him. It’s been a few days since I gave report and I don’t want him to send someone looking for me.” She smiled at him and went on, “Would you mind terribly pretending you don’t exist for the next few minutes?” “Are you saying that you’re ashamed to have your father know that I’ve stolen your virtue?” he teased. She laughed and kissed his cheek lightly. “I knew you’d understand.” She went to the desk and took a small mirror out of one of the drawers, then she headed into the potions closet. He returned to the paper but, as the closed door did not completely muffle the sound, he could not help overhearing her conversation. “How are the Royals doing, Papa?” she was saying. “I can’t get a paper or anything on the radio about them over here.”

There was a whistle of disapproval and a deep male voice replied, “Not good, pixie, not good. The Yanks pummeled them last night. They’ve been on a losing streak for a while now. They don’t get their act together soon, they can forget about the playoffs.” “Hmmm, maybe I’m glad I can’t witness it then.” “I sure wish I couldn’t. Did you finish the paperwork on the Islington case?” “Yes Papa, and I swear they make it more complicated every time I do. I don’t even want to think about what I’m going to have to go through after the next case.” “Better you than me. It looks like you’ve got a lot of work rolling in over there. Do you want to stay?” “I think so. I have enough to keep me busy through the first quarter of next year at least. Honestly, I wonder if there’s something stirring things up. That vampire was harder to catch than he should have been and I usually don’t have a waiting list this long. The Minister of Magic himself approached me yesterday and wants to meet about something.” “That’s my girl, hitting the big time. You behave when you meet with him, do you hear me? Don’t be telling your dirty jokes just to act cute.” “Papa, I do know how to behave when I want to. But where do you think I got my material in the first place?” “Don’t go blaming me for things that are my fault. Watch your back. I’ll talk to you soon.” “I won’t, and I will. Love to Mama and the rest.” She came back into the room and replaced the mirror in its drawer, but she was frowning a bit, as though she were pondering something. She returned to her seat at the table and asked, “You don’t happen to know of anything that might be stirring up a load of Dark Magic over here, do you?” It was an innocent question, and if she had asked it of another wizard, he would have shrugged and shook his head. However, Severus was unfortunately very aware of who was behind the rise in Dark Magic in England at the moment. He kept his eyes on the paper and his expression blank. “No.” “It is strange, though. Usually there are only a few cases in a given year in England. And the darker creatures that I’ve been rounding up are stronger than I would usually expect. There must be something egging them on.” She sipped her coffee and went on, half to herself, “I’ll have to do some digging. Who’s that Headmaster at your school? Albus Dumbledore, isn’t it? Do you think he’d have time to meet with me? I imagine if anyone had his thumb on the pulse of magic in Britain he would.” “Albus Dumbledore is a very busy man.” He stared unseeing at the paper, his mind starting to go down an unpleasant path.

“Hmmmm. I seem to remember some incident in the fourteenth century where St. Patrick’s Purgatory at Lough Derg opened a bit wider than usual and all sorts of things got out. I wonder…” Her voice trailed off and she wandered over to the bookshelf, scanning the titles. Eventually she picked out an enormous leather bound tome and scooted some dishes over so that she could open it on the table. She started leafing through the aging pages, completely unaware that Severus’s expression was darkening. This had been a mistake. He was a thirty-five year old wizard, and one would think that he could enjoy the favors of a willing female without any terrible consequences. However, he was Severus Snape and nothing good ever happened to him. He was embroiled in a plot to bring down the Dark Lord. He spent his days teaching the ungrateful child of his murdered love and her wretched husband, and his nights playing the role of a faithful Death Eater. One false move, one unguarded thought could bring instant, painful death to himself and any number of other people. And really, how much did he know about Miranda Rose anyway? Who was to say that she wasn’t some sort of trap set for him? Merlin, he hated his life. He sighed and decided it was best to end it quickly. He hoped that she wouldn’t cry or do whatever embarrassing thing women did when their lovers jilted them. He set down the paper and said in a cool voice, “I think it is time I were leaving.” She closed the book and looked up at him with a smile. “You don’t have to leave. I can do this later.” He stood slowly and summoned a bland, cold expression. “I don’t think you understand, Miss Rose. This was a mistake that will not be repeated.” She arched an elegant eyebrow at him. “Oh?” “You’ve been a charming diversion, but I’m afraid I simply do not have time for any more such foolishness.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her bare feet on the table. The skirt of her dress slid up her legs, exposing them to the thigh. She took out a cigarette and lit it, her face a mask of amusement. She blew out a long line of smoke and murmured, “Goodness me. The dreaded morning after attack of scruples. I’m disappointed in you, professor. I had thought your moral code sufficiently flexible not to be bothered by them. What a shame.” Her mocking tone angered him in a way tears would not have done. He could not help trying to take her down a peg and said silkily, “Perhaps my moral code is not the problem. Perhaps I was simply dissatisfied with your performance.” She smiled nastily at him. “Please. I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed such a pathetic display of eagerness and gratitude as you provided last night. How long had it been? A year? Five years? Ten?” “What a disgustingly vulgar trollop you are,” he sneered. “Sticks and stones, professor, sticks and stones.” She swung her pretty legs off of the table and sashayed to the door. When she reached it, she opened it gracefully. “This is a door. Feel free to use it.” “I sincerely hope that your next mark separates your obscene head from your indecent body,” he snapped as he stalked out of the cabin. “From your mouth to God’s ears,” she returned. “Have a nice life.” She slammed the door after him and angrily started cleaning the breakfast mess. She scrubbed the dishes without magic in order to better vent her anger on them. What the fuck was wrong with him? He’d seemed perfectly fine and even rather amorous this morning. Then he’d suddenly turned cold and nasty for no apparent reason. And really, even if he hadn’t been completely thrilled with their encounter, there was no call to be an ass about it. Hadn’t he ever heard of a one night stand? She finished the dishes and stalked into her bedroom to air the bed clothes. It was her habit to do this most days, and she definitely wanted to do so today. She had no desire to sleep on sheets that smelled like that cold fish of an Englishman. She jerked open the bedroom door and stopped short. He’d made the bed. Men never thought to make the bed. She sighed and opened the window, letting in the breeze off the Channel. She flicked her wand at the bed and the linens pulled themselves backwards and hung on an unseen clothesline, fluttering gently in the wind. She sat down and stared out the window without really noticing anything. It had been a lovely night. She thought she had hit rather close to the mark with the gist of her insult this morning, but there had been nothing pathetic about him. They had both been a bit awkward and sloppy at first, but they had soon managed to remember how everything worked. Indeed, he had seemed so intoxicated by the heady drug of rendering one’s partner helpless with pleasure that she had half wondered if he had ever experienced it before. She felt a bit sorry now for being quite so cutting with her tongue, but it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be seeing him again and that was that. She supposed she really should get to work. There was research to be done and potions to brew and bullets to make. She got up, intending to be virtuous and start with the potions—her least favorite—but a particularly delicious waft of sea air blew in through her window. She changed her mind and went to pack her leather messenger bag instead. Bathing suit, towel, sun hat, novel. She braided her hair, put on her sandals, and headed down the the village. A little sun bathing and a swim in the Channel would be just the thing. She could be virtuous tomorrow.

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

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Four+

Chapter Six+ >>

[mrslittletall]

Angel Sanctuary Re-Read Volume 8

Hmmmm! So Setsuna/Alexiel is now on earth and Michael is there too. And what is Michael doing? Picking a fight of course. It only gets worse when Setsuna looks at him and goes "Woah, you are tiny." Michael also notices that the soul in Alexiel's body is not correct and well, Setsuna manages to talk to calm him down, but that was just a trick because then Michael stabs him and goes "War is there for senseless battles!" And Voice! The ogre who hated Setsuna! Actually protects him! Michael severes his arm and well, Voice is about to bleed out. Setsuna is not able to help him however, he is dealing with a stab wound of his own! Okay, let's visit Metatron for a moment. Another assassin comes and Metatron plays a prank on him. It's about his doll, the rabbit doll, there is clearly a soul in this doll. I still know the twist about it, but I won't spoil it. Anyway, the assassin escapes to Jibril's garden and learns that Jibril is actually a living puppet thanks to a needle. Sefie has used the needle on Jibril and uses the same needle on the assassin. Then he vanishesin a bubble of water. Jibril still seems to have some power left, it appears... The assassin appears in front of Zaphikel, struggling to speak. He saw Sefie's face under the mask before he was whisked away and was shocked by it, but thanks to the needle he can barely speak. He dies in front of Zaphiel and Raziel. Raziel only saw it because Sara's soul called out to him. And now Metatron is having a nice dream... a dream that leads him right to Jibril, with a dream friend that looks llike him but adult (reminder that Metatron is a toddler in this work). And he shall pull the needle from Jibril's neck... Oh, what happens on earth? Raphael turned up. He stops the battle, Setsuna is getting out of his rage and he bails from the battle with the dying voice. In the meantime, Metatron succeeds in pulling the needle from Jibril's neck. At the same time, Sara's soul vanished and once Jibril open her eyes, she introduces herself as Sara Mudo! She is super duper confused as what happened. Setsuna goes back to Anagura, wanting to help Voice but the ogres are still mad, even think he himself hurt Voice to be let back in. But Setsuna is letting all pride fall, even protects voice and once Kurai sends one of her god dragons to reprimand the ogres, they are left in. Voice needs blood, so Setsuna wants to get Noise, his twin, but she is still possessed.She says she can't give her blood and the beast appears to rile up more trouble. Setsuna however kills the beast and purifies Noise and now they can help Voice. Phew. Setsuna has a meeting with Kurai's god dragons and the topic of Sara comes up again. Of course Setsuna is head over heels for her, wants her back, but his body first. Kurai is getting very jealous and slips that she has someone who would marry her. Setsuna assumes it is Voice and teases Kurai, calling her his little sister. They then get fetched to visit Voice but Kurai recognizes the messenger as Mad Hatter. He gives her a box with the life elixir in it and tells her that once she opens it, she will be transported to Sheol... In heaven Sefie is wondering about Jibril or Sara-Jibril, he can't hurt her, the water is protecting her. He then stares in a mirror unmasked, having an utter self-hating moment. Sara comes in and wonders about it, seeing his face, expect... she's blind. Turns out that Jibril's body after the long catatonic state isn't completely there yet. Setsuna wants to go into heaven and abduct Raphael. Voice actually wants to go with him, he came a long way from the little mistrusting vampire that wanted to see Setsuna dead. Kurai is left angsting about her feelings about Setsuna. Mad Hatter appears and gives Kurai an adult body for one night so that she can seduce Setsuna, but the sleeping Setsuna thinks she is Sara. In the meantime, Jibril-Sara runs into Raphael, confused and upset. The volume ends here.

[bataddictedloony]

Little Nightmares theory

[SPOILERS & LONG AS SHIT POST]

So obviously the theory goes around that Six is the Lady’s daughter or at least they’ve known each other before the start of the game. Here’s why I think that theory is 100% true and why I think the family ties are canon.

Let’s talk about the Prison first. I think a lot of people agree that it’s simple and plainly a prison for children, either kidnapped or orphaned or left behind by their parents. They’re being kept there, more or less cared for because they have playrooms and a library (which obviously isn’t meant for the Concierge), they have beds, some even have their on rooms and there’s a mess hall. All of them are, of course, in a prison environment, there are bars everywhere, the doors are meant to be locked and some of the bars are even electrocuted so when the kiddies are playing, they don’t get any strange ideas of trying to escape. 

All to keep the kiddies safe and watched over, of course!

So now that that’s established, the next question is why. Later in the game we see the Concierge wrapping up some of the kids up to then transport them up to the kitchen where the Chefs do whatever the hell hey want with them. So you’d think they’re fattening the children up to be nice meat for the Guests way upstairs, right?

Actually, I think they’re doing the opposite. I think they’re keeping them fed and entertained long enough until they’re old enough to become the next happy meal. Look at the picture again. When seeing the game for the first time, I thought the kid was regular sized for, let’s say, a 7 year old and that Six is just really teeny tiny. It turns out they’re not! The kid is about the same height as Six, they just look slightly larger because of perspective and because they’re standing on the bench. All the kids we come across, including Six and the kid in the mess hall are also all unbelievably thin, unlike the Guests and the Chefs, nothing you’d expect to be a strong delicious meal. It would also explain why everyone is so small and why the kids are limp when the Concierge wraps them up, they don’t struggle even a little.  I think they’re being kept from a very young age, letting them sleep together for the first few years (when we see the Concierge for the first time, he’s patrolling a room with children even smaller than Six!) until they become older and need to be separated more often (that’s why there are also single bedrooms). They’re being malnourished to the point where they don’t grow anymore and stay small, until they’re eventually so malnourished they lose strength, and that’s when they’re put into cages until they die and are ready to go to the kitchens. The libraries, the tv room and playrooms are all there to keep them distracted and the eyes, the bars and the locks are there to make sure they don’t run around when they’re not supposed to.  They were obviously being watched by someone (not blind) and I bet it was the guy who hung himself, whom we come across very early in the game, who couldn’t take it anymore and decided to end it. 

I have no idea though as to why they do it this way instead of fattening them up. Maybe I’m just looking to much into it and I should move on.

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

SO SIX! How does she (and the Nomes) come into play?

Children are escaping the Prison. All the time. But they’re in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by nothing but water and enemies that want to eat them. So they have no choice but to stay on the Maw and hide, and that’s how eventually turn into literal fungi, the Nomes, who strongly resemble mushrooms. This theory is solely based, though, on the comic that isn’t out yet. If you look up some previews, you’ll see a circle of children in similar coats like Six sitting around a fire in one of the rooms behind the walls. They also seem not very fond of Six but I’ll get on that detail later.

Oh yeah, also, Six was part of the prison. I 100% believe this because of this room:

The size of the bed doesn’t really matter here, ALL the kids have a bed this size, how ridiculous it may be. I think this is Six’s room simply because of the drawing of herself. I believe it was in the corner where the porcelain doll is, you can find a drawing of a tiny person in a yellow jacket. You literally can’t misinterpret that drawing, it’s Six, loud and clear. Now, as I’ve said before, the other kids aren’t particularly fond of Six, so I’d find it strange that one of them would make a drawing of her. So I have 2 theories:

1. Six made the drawing herself. She stole ink and paper, was discovered and got into major trouble, got into a really bad fight that resulted in spilled and smudged ink on the floor and the door being broken down, but it got her to escape.

2. The drawing was made by a friend. To add drama, Six’s one friend in the prison. They were very fond of drawing and stole ink and paper, until they were discovered and got into a fight that ended badly if you rather see the smudges as blood rather than ink, and the broken door. This might’ve been Six’s last straw that compelled her to escape and set a goal for herself: find her way upstairs and cut the snake by it’s head.

-----------

Are you feeling the drama? Good, let’s keep it going! Let’s talk about Six’s relations to the Lady and who she possibly could’ve been before she ended up in the prison. Now we’re coming to the part why I think Six knew the Lady before the prison.

First of all, the obvious one: Six dreamt of the Lady before the start of the game. I think Six was trapped in the prison until right before the start of the game. I’m gonna go on a whim and say the children in the prison never meet the Lady. Why would they? They’re never meant to survive past the Concierge and the Lady doesn’t look like the type who goes all the way to the bottom of her ship to be all Ms. Coulter and be a symbol of comfort to the kids. So why would Six dream of a women she never met?  One theory could be that she had a premonition to the end of the game. Another could be that the Lady is the one kidnapping the children, using her singing and beauty to lure them to her. The third one is that Six and the Lady just knew each other. To conform to this theory: because they’re daughter and mother.

Next up is the paintings and photographs in the Lady’s quarters. Almost everyone who’s played the game noticed the painting in the corner of the Lady’s bedroom and the paintings of the little girl in the yellow dress, all of which look suspiciously a lot like Six.

But the one piece of evidence I find the most compelling is the soundtrack. In Six’s theme, you hear a little girl, presumably Six herself, humming. Hmm hmm hmm, hmm hmm hmm. Sol Fa Mi, Sol Fa Mi.  Doesn’t that remind you of some other humming we hear in the game? The lady hums to herself: Hmmmmm, hmmmm hmmmm. Do,Si, Mi. Not quite spot on but very similar. The Lady’s version is just stretched out.

So maybe, if the theory of mother daughter is correct, I think the humming comes from Six, having her own childish little melody, and the Lady, feeling guilty for sending her child down to the prison, singing it to herself when she’s alone. Might be another reason why she stopped humming it immediately after Six breaks the vase in her room. That and the fact that there’s an intruder in her goddamn room, but ya know, THEORIES~

Another reason I think this theory is right is because of Six’s hunger. Her going from eating bread to eating the flesh of the living comes pretty much out of nowhere. The players question whether this was her true colours all along or if she was driven to this. I think it’s somewhere in between. As the child of the Lady, who consumes the life force of others and definitely has some magic, Six might’ve inherited those traits. However, keeping her prisoner (oh my god I just realised another theory, but LATER) and malnourished, forced her to built up her metabolism to what she actually needs to live. From bread, to meat, to blood and eventually to life force again. 

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

Now the question is - keeping to the mother-daughter theory - why send Six to the prison on the bottom of her ship where she’s either condemned to die either of starvation or becoming a piece of meat herself? Why keep her alive on her ship instead of just sending her away on another ship or throwing her overboard? What compelled the Lady to hate her daughter so much to leave her to such a fate, but not enough to kill her immediately?

A lot of people are saying it’s because the Lady was jealous of Six’s beauty. Going all Snow White on this shit, which is actually a cool parallel with the white mask and the black hair! And it makes sense! The Lady has a sort of vanity, surrounding herself with mannequins dressed like her, and dressing herself very luxuriously. But she also has shame, hiding her face behind a mask and surrounded by broken mirrors. It seems like she can’t even stand the look of her mask, because that’s how Six wins the game. Now, I’m wondering when the mirrors were broken. Before or after Six was sent to prison? If after, it could be the Lady can’t stand the sight of herself because of the guilt of what she did to her daughter. I have another theory.

In the Lady’s quarters, and even in the restaurant, you’ll see this picture of the Lady standing between 4 blacked out people. I have very little evidence to support this theory but I think the 4 other people are the Concierge, the Chef twins and Six’ father, making Six the sixth (eh???!!) member of this little family. (I’ve seen theories run around of the hanged man being Six’ father which, TOTALLY POSSIBLE IN MY THEORIES) The Maw was run as it is, the father keeping an eye on the children (literally, cough the eye chamber cough), the Concierge keeping everything in order and sending the children to the kitchen, the Chefs preparing the food and the Lady hosting her guests and controlling everything. And then little Six was born and the family became and even happier creepy disturbing place! Oh joy! But now it comes. I think there was an accident, disfiguring the entire family except Six. I’m even betting on a fire breaking out, melting the faces of the Lady - making her wear her white mask, the twins - making them wear those creepy-shit masks, the Concierge - rendering him blind because his face literally melted over his eyes, and perhaps the father too. Only Six was left unharmed, and that made the Lady jealous and angry.

----------

Now the other theory I came up with literally while writing this one, is this: Six became too powerful. 

Think about it. What is the Maw for? To host a sort of inn for the regular citizen to enjoy and consume as much as they want? To make the consumer eat as much as they can so the Lady can take their life force for herself, to make her beautiful once more and keep her youthful forever? 

Could be, but what if it WAS just meant as a resort for the regular citizen? The family kept their business going, Six was born and started showing signs that she had inherited her mother’s powers and slowly grew up to use that power to terrorize the guests, maybe even killing some of them. Maybe this is why the Lady sent her child to the deepest parts of the Maw? To make sure her slowly-becoming-psychotic child didn’t kill more of her guests?

Or maybe Little Nightmares is just meant to be a huge metaphor about how the big people literally feed on the little people!

[notconsolation]

Every number that is spelled with the letter 'e'.

THIS TOOK A WHILE. I left out ones I already answered 💞💞

1. Think of the last person who said I love you, do you think they meant it?

I hope so cause she gave birth to me and I would feel cheated if she were lying

3. When’s the last time you were aggravated and happy at the same time?

I live there it's a nice state if you don't mind the rodents of unusual size roaming the streets, you should come visit

5. Is there someone mad because you’re dating/talking to the person you are?

I hope not

6. Have you heard a song that reminds you of someone today?

Lord Huron - she lit a fire --> @twentyonequasars

8. How often do you listen to music?

I never stop

9. Do you wear jeans or sweats more?

sweats, sue me I live on campus

10. Do you think your life will change dramatically before 2018?

yes. there's a general election in a few days and also we all might die if a temperamental baby-man decides he's feeling trigger happy and throws a tantrum of mass destruction

11. Are you a social or an antisocial person?

at heart I am asi

12. Have you ever kissed someone whose name begins with the letter ‘A’?

Yeh

13. What about ‘R’?

....possible? metaphorically..... I’m a

14. Can you drive a stick shift?

Can't drive anything, not even a conversation.

15. Do you care if people talk badly about you?

On a logical level, no, but buddy just looking at that sentence made my paranoia go haywire. If my window is open I hear snatches of the conversations people have on the doorstep to my house and I don't want to listen in but.... my ears are 100% always tuned to my name and if I hear it I literally recoil as if I'm bracing to be slapped.

16. Are you going out of town soon?

@my cat IM COMING BACK HOME SOON BABY

17. When was the last time you cried?

I just made a sandwich and the bread was stale so I moistened and seasoned it with my tears

18. Have you ever told someone you loved them?

hi, have you met me you can find me at @notconsolation and I send anon with a lot of heart emojis and alien faces

20. Is there a boy who you would do absolutely everything for?

If any of my mutuals at any point identify as male --> lookin at you. Also: smokey.

21. Name something you dislike about the day you’re having.

exAms

22. Is it cute when guys kiss you on your forehead?

I dunno, Becky, is it

23. Are you dating the last person you talked to?

NEin

24. What are you sitting on right now?

A racoon

25. Does anyone regularly (other than family) tell you they love you?

I have the best friends and I don't deserve you guys

26. Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have?

Every cat I've ever come across that wasn't already mine

27. Who was the last person you talked to before you went to bed last night?

@twentyonequasars

28. Do you get a lot of colds?

Nein

31. Do you have any empty alcohol bottles hidden somewhere in your room?

Hidden? jk, I haven't been drinking for a while now cause..... honestly I feel like people should present reasons to drink rather than be expected to have a reason why they're not drinking

32. Do you like watching scary movies?

Ja

35. Did you have a dream last night?

Sure. do I remember it? no, but i had one recently about time travelling spies going undercover in a victorian monastery so that's something

37. Do you think you’ll be married in 5 years?

HONEY NO please don't

38. Do you think someone has feelings for you?

this is..... a sore subject

39. Do you think someone is thinking about you right now?

Maybe Charlie is wondering why I'm taking so dang long with this?

41. Think back 2 months ago; were you in a relationship?

不是

43. Has anyone told you they don’t want to ever lose you?

Yes.

45. Do you have any pictures on your Facebook?

....um... that's part of what it's for?

47. Do you replay things that have happened in your head?

i challenge you to find one (1) single human being that does not do this. I bet animals do it, too

48. Were you single over the last summer?

Oui, maman.

49. Is your life anything like it was two years ago?

bOi. Very much so and not at all.

51. Do you hate the last guy you had a conversation with?

@OP, who hurt you

53. Have you ever liked someone you didn’t expect to?

Honestly I did not expect I would ever get to the point where I truly like Peanut, the spider that lives in the corner of my window, but here we are.

55. Are you good at hiding your feelings?

A loser hides behind, , a mask of my disguise, , ....

57. Have you kissed someone whose name starts with a ‘J’?

Oh, fuck, I think so. I'm thinking of someone, but I can't remember his name? Or. I'M not sure he ever told me?

58. Do you prefer to be friends with girls or boys?

@gender, Fuck you, you mean nothing to me

59. Has anyone of your friends ever seen you cry?

Yeh boi

61. How’s your heart?

Bitching about that cholesterol

63. Have you ever cried over a guy?

Yeah but like, whose dad hasn't made them cry at one point? Not, like, in an abusive way. Just.... parents, ya know?

65. Are your toenails painted pink?

negative

67. Girls love it when boyfriends cry; correct?

What the fuck @op who HuRt you

68. Have your pants ever fallen down in public?

Please, you think I wear pants in public?

69. Who was the last person you were on the phone with?

An Amazon employee who was scarily friendly. I thought he might be being held at gunpoint and trying to give me secret messages and i panicked

70. How do you look right now?

Like the usual amalgamation of straw and painted burlap sack that looks back at me from the mirror.

71. Do you have someone you can be your complete self around?

Yeh, although I haven't met them, really.

72. Can you commit to one person?

Probably not.

73. Do you have someone of the opposite sex you can tell everything to?

I don't, actually. Huh.

74. Have you ever felt replaced?

Whenever my cat leaves my side. Doubly so if I'm petting her and she hears someone else come home so she runs to them. WHAT, I'M NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU???

75. Did you wake up cranky?

Heck yeah, it's exam season bonch. are we sensing a theme yet?

76. Are you a jealous person?

Jealousy and envy are concepts I find fascinating. Jealousy, I think, is wanting something someone else has while envy is more wanting what they are. I get envious a lot, but I'm not really a jealous person at all, no.

77. Are relationships ever worth it?

Listen, you're hooting up the wrong line of string here with these relationship questions.

78. Anyone you’re giving up on?

I don't think I've ever given up on anyone actually, not completely. Well. Maybe Guy Fieri.

79. Currently wanting to see anyone?

my cat.

80. Name something you have to do tomorrow?

EXAM. DIE.

81. Last person you cried in front of?

My mother

82. Is there someone you will never forget?

Most people, actually.

83. Do you think the person you have feelings for is protective of you?

Listen, this ask thing is really tough for someone without a relationship or any wish whatsoever to be in one.

84. If the person you wish to be with were with you, what would you be doing right now?

It's a bunch of you guys and we'd have a bonfire going up on the hill overlooking the town.

85. Are you over your past?

Broad question. Broad answer: no, what, you expect me to be a fully functioning human being?

86. Have you ever liked one of your best friends of the opposite sex?

Nepe

87. Is there anyone you can tell EVERYTHING to?

.... honestly? probably @stalk-softly. they passed the last test I had for them and are now officially in my inner circle. Ah heck, probably all my mutuals?

88. If your first true love knocked on your door with apology and presents, would you accept?

@op, whomsTve HURT you?

89. So, the last person you kissed just happens to arrive at your door at 3AM; do you let them in?

Sure, she lives across the street and is probably here to see my flatmates. But if she wants to hang out that's cool.

90. Have you ever liked someone who your friends hated?

nah-ah

91. Will you be in a relationship in 2 months?

Please, no

92. Is there anyone you know with the name Michael?

Hmmmm don't think so? No offence to any Michael's out there but...... the name Michael makes me think of overalls and a beer belly?

93. Have you ever kissed a Matthew?

Honestly,, it's possible? But I have no idea. Probably? There's a lot of Matthews out there.

94. Were you in a relationship in January? How was it going?

Nope

95. Were you happy with the person you liked in March?

! i like many people, none of them in accordance with the spirit of this question, I think.

96. Don’t tell me lies, is the last person you texted attractive?

I love Josh but he's not my type.

97. Who do you have texts from?

I don't actually text very much because I live on tumblr dot com and i am wifi's bitch. The only person I regularly text is my friend Josh.

98. If the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say?

Spatchcock and roast at 200°C for 45 minutes. Oh wait. huh? I think I got lost on this one.

99. Have you ever kissed someone older than you?

Have I ever kissed someone younger than me? I don't think so? Although there was Marion and I don't know how old she is. Actually it was her birthday the other day but I don't know whether she turned 18 or 19. So, uh. Maybe.

100. Who’s in your profile picture with you?

Nobody, actually, it's just le me.

101. Ever kissed under fireworks?

Nope

102. Has anybody ever given you butterflies?

Geez this question was geared towards people without social anxiety, literally every human being gives me butterflies........ but uh not.... in a good way

LONG ASS ANSWER COMPLETE THANKS FOR ASKING!