#OVEN YOU DESERVE AN EXECUTION!!!!!

[hauntingblue]

Bege father and husband of the year

[femmesandhoney]

god I hate how brainless trump supporters are. There's signs all over the county I live in saying "Trump low prices, Kamala high prices" and there's this old lady who's a facebook friend (she helped me with a stray kitten some years back) posting about "no more money for wars, vote trump" "lower taxes, vote trump" "stop giving our tax dollars to foreign countries, vote trump" Like excusez-moi, he wants to fund wars, he wanted to fund russia's war on ukraine, he slashed taxes for the rich and now the working class has a heavier load.

Also what's their fucking obsession with deregulation? Sure let's turn america into a capitalist hellscape, what could go wrong!? The triangle shirt waist factory? Let's do that again, new executive order: Bosses can lock their employees in the buildings and no more emergency exits. OSHA? Scrap it too, everyone gets to get sliced in half or cooked alive in the factories. Let's send children back into the coal mines so they can all die of black lung. The endless food recalls? Who cares! The ""pro-life"" nimrods don't believe in quality of life

I know you're joking, but a 19 year old girl just died brutally in a walk-in oven at a walmart (found by her own mother), so the idea that regulations could get any worse is like so sickening since the the US is strict, but not even as strict as we should be.

Secondly, its because trump supporters (not necessarily gen Republicans, mind you) are not voting for him because of any specific policy they legitimately care about, they vote for him because of what he represents morally and ethically. They see themselves in all his disturbing rambles that just boil down to racism, misogyny, xenophobia, and greed. so much greed that they too think will somehow trickle down to them, that they deserve it too. they aren't educated individuals in any way, they aren't moral and good people, but it doesn't matter because trump just feeds off his followers stupidity and fear/aggression towards things to get them to do his bidding.

[queenmagnusao3]

a kiss with death is better than none

An Agathario fic that starts at the beginning. I'll be trying to stay within the bit of canon the show gave us for Agatha's history but may bend a few things to better fit my narrative

Link to full fic

Evanora Harkness pulled the freshly baked pie from the oven, the warmth of the hot metal oven causing her face to flush and her eyes to sting. She quickly placed it on the table and wiped her brow. The sun had set not 30 minutes prior and she knew he would be there at any moment.

She had felt him growing more distant from her for nearly a full moon cycle now. He seemed to genuinely love her, or at least he seemed to enjoy bedding her any chance he got but his pesky wife and their two brats were getting in the way. He seemed unwilling to leave them, no matter how much of herself she gave over to him.

Evanora wasn’t completely above killing his wife and the children, she just wasn't that desperate yet. She could still make it work. She could still convince him he wanted to stay of his own free will. He was a man of status in the small village and if she could keep him on her side, she wouldn’t have to worry about ending up on the gallows or worse. She would be safe.

The fear towards witch kind had grown to such extreme heights fewer and fewer witches were willing to practice their craft anymore. The humans were quick to pass judgement and even the slightest hint of an unnatural ability was met with swift action. These punishments and executions had begun to get more brutal and extreme. Some deaths were easily avoidable for the average witch but not all were skilled or prepared enough for the trials that awaited them. To make matters worse, many of those accused weren’t even magical, just poor women caught up in the high of the witch hunt. 

Evanora herself once nearly met her end, finding herself standing before a judge and jury determined to find her guilty of the crime that was being a witch. Lucky for her, she was rather proficient in the art of manipulating the mind. It was a fine tuned magic that would damage and warp the weak mind of most humans if not done precisely. 

She used her manipulations to bring forth the truth: the true witch was her accusor, determined to frame Evanora for her own cimes. The witch did not feel guilty over that women’s death. She had already sent half a dozen others to Death’s waiting arms. She deserved whatever pain awaited her.

No, in order to truly be safe she needed him to truly love her. Being a man it wasn’t hard to catch his eye. A slip of her skirts or the gently flip of her hair had him under her spell as soon as he laid his eyes on her. But that rush of something new and forbidden had started to wear off. She needed to up the stakes.

There was the sound of horseshoes on dirt and she quickly pinched her cheeks, giving them an even more rosey look, putting on her sweetest smile turning just as the door opened. 

Thomas was not a particularly handsome man but his dark hair and blue eyes gave him a charming look that Evanora genuinely found enduring. He smiled at her but the smile did not reach his eyes and she knew something was wrong.

“I baked you a pie, my darling. It’s elderberry.”

He took off his hat, holding it in his hands. Another warning. He always hung his hat on the hook by the door.

“My favorite.”

She scanned his face, wishing, not for the first time in her life, she could see into his mind. 

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t move from the front door. He always pulled her into his arms when he got home. Instead he ran a hand through his thick hair and let out a long sigh.

No no no no no no no

Bells were ringing in her head. She could save this. She could get him to stay.

“Thomas, dear. Come sit and have some pie. It’s been days and I’ve missed you so.”

She moved to him and started to pull off his coat but he flinched away from her. She froze, her heart starting to race as she started working through ideas. She was not going to run again. With his protection she could live her life in peace. She could gather a coven again and together they’d be strong enough to handle anything the foolish humans might try to do to them. She just needed more time.

“Evanora?”

She blinked rapidly, looking up into his piercing blue eyes.

“Evanora, I am sorry. But whatever this is between us cannot continue. I have a wife and two babes not yet 6. I cannot leave them.”

Evanora’s eyes darkened. It wasn’t her fault he was married. He was the one who fell for her advances. He was the one who broke his vow, his devotion. She would not suffer rejection from someone so weak.

She took a step back and turned her back on him. She had one card left to play. Hunching over, she began to quietly sob, pinching the inside of her arm to help the tears well. She heard him take a step and the moment he touched her back she pulled away from his touch, whirling around with angry tears spilling down her cheeks.

“You cannot do this to me! I am an unmarried women with no one else to look after me. To look after us .” She sucked in a dramatic sob of a sigh and fell to her knees, wrapping an arm around her midsection for good effect. She wasn’t actually with child. But that was easy enough to remedy. Or she could always fake a miscarriage in a few weeks. She just needed him to stay for now. 

It took so long for him to react that she almost looked at him to be sure the idiotic man understood what she was telling him. She waited though, letting her gently sobs continue until he was on the floor before her, gently taking her hands in his.

“My darling, are you telling me you are with child?”

She slowly moved her eyes up to meet his, pausing just a moment before nodding slightly. He let out a soft breath and kissed her hands before pulling her into a tight embrace. Evanora melted against him, a wave of relief washing over her as she knew she had won.

“We shall  find someone to help get rid of it. I know they are medicines one can take to-”

She pulled away from him in an instant.

“What did you say?”

He had the gull to look at her confused as if what he said was perfectly normal.

“Evanora, this changes nothing. I am already married. I already have children. I cannot just leave them. I would be an outcast, a disgrace. And your child, the child would be a bastard with no place in society or hope for a future.”

Her anger bubbled over and she lashed out with her magic. She pierced his mind, causing as much pain as she could with no care for precision or care. He writhed and screamed, clutching his head as his eyes glowed. 

You’ll go to your wife tonight and tell her you’re leaving. Tell her you don’t love her. Do whatever you have to do to make them understand you’re not coming back. Make your children forget they ever had a father. Get rid of them in a way that ensures we’ll never have to see them again. Then come back to me and devote yourself to me fully.

She wasn’t even fully aware of the commands she was giving him, she just wanted him gone. She didn't even care if he came back at this point. She just wanted to cause him as much pain as she could. She let out a scream of anger before cutting him free of her spell, rushing to the back door and vomiting into the grass as the cool air stung against her tearstained face.

She knew he would be gone when she went back inside. 

2 days later he returned. His eyes staring at her without truly seeing as he stood in the doorway, his clothing soaked in crimson blood.

“What di-”

“It’s done. They’re gone. And you, my beloved, are mine .”

He walked to her, pulling her close as his lips met hers in a crushing kiss. There was a passion behind it she had not felt from him before. He pushed her back towards the kitchen table, taking her by the hips and lifting her up so she was sitting on the edge. His kisses were frenzied and he quickly started undoing his breeches as she greedily lifted her skirts. She liked this new Thomas and she wanted him just as much as he seemingly wanted her.

He was rough and finished quickly, leaving her wanting more. But she saw it happen in an instant, his eyes changed from hard and hungry to confused, followed by horrified. He pulled away from her, taking in the blood that had transferred to her clothing. His gaze moving towards his own hands and the blood that covered him. He stumbled backwards, towards the door.

“Wh-what have I done?”

Evanora pushed her skirts back down, catching her breath as she walked to him. She touched him gently, slipping back into the role of the meak, nurturing woman he was attracted to for some reason.

“Shh, it’s okay. It will all be okay. Let me get you cleaned up and we can talk about it.”

But there was a madness in his eyes now. 

“No. Y-you stay away from me. I-I heard you in my head. What did you do to me? What have I done? My children! My wife!”

He tripped as he moved farther away from her, stumbling down the stairs as he ran away. 

Evanora watched him stagger down the road towards the village. Letting out a sigh she started making a mental list of the belongings she would be able to carry with her to her next destination. She was never really meant for the life of doting housewife anyway. It was worth the try but it was no great loss on her part.

Her house was empty by the time the townsfolk came for her. She stuck around long enough to hear of his trial. He had slit his wife’s throat and left his children to drown in a well. He confessed to everything claiming his only defense being he had been put under some spell by a witch he had been having relations with.

Committing crimes under a spell sometimes worked as a defense but with such a heinous crime he did not stand a chance. He was found guilty and sentenced to death. 

He was hanged not 3 days later.

It was not for nearly a full moon cycle later that Evanora Harkness realized Thomas had left her with a parting gift. She supposed it was some divine retribution that her last encounter with him had resulted in new life. Maybe this child would be the way forward. Maybe it would be the soltution to all her problems.

She wandered for a few days before she was drawn to a young witch living quietly at the edge of a forest. The woman was happy to provide her with a safe place to take shelter.

“You are with child.”

It was not a question. Evanora looked around the camp and noticed cards on a table, a few of them still set in a familiar spread. A divination witch.

“Yes.”

“The child was made with magic.”

Evanora nodded.

“There is a darkness hanging over her conception.”

Her. So it was a girl. Evanora already felt this though. She had not dwelled much on the fact the child was conceived under magical coercion. Plenty of witches got men with love spells or potions. Surely this was no different. But the other witch’s eyes suddenly grew wide and Evanora swore the skiy darkened.

“There is a great evil within you, Evanora Harkness.”

Evanora’s skin prickled as the witch continued.

“Her power will be like nothing this world has seen. Death will follow your child wherever she goes.”

[ariannawilliamsblog]

Making Fried Chicken for a Crowd: Tips

Preparing fried chicken for a crowd can be a rewarding experience, especially when you want to impress guests with a delicious, comforting dish. Whether it's for a family gathering, a party, or a community event, making enough fried chicken to satisfy a large number of people requires careful planning and execution. Here are some essential tips to ensure your fried chicken is crispy, flavorful, and enjoyed by all.

1. Plan Ahead

Effective planning is key to successfully cooking for a crowd. Start by estimating how much chicken you’ll need based on the number of guests. A good rule of thumb is to plan for about 2-3 pieces of chicken per person, depending on the size of the pieces and whether there are other main dishes available. It’s always better to prepare a little extra, just in case.

2. Choose the Right Cut of Chicken

For large gatherings, consider using a mix of chicken parts such as drumsticks, thighs, and wings. These cuts are not only cost-effective but also easy to serve. Drumsticks and thighs tend to be more flavorful and juicy, while wings are perfect for finger food. Make sure to cut your chicken into uniform pieces to ensure even cooking.

3. Marinate for Flavor

Marinating chicken is essential for adding flavor and ensuring moisture. A simple buttermilk marinade works wonders, as the lactic acid helps tenderize the meat and infuse it with flavor. Marinate the chicken for at least 2 hours, or overnight if possible, to allow the flavors to penetrate deeply. You can also add spices and herbs to the marinade for an extra kick.

4. Prepare the Breading

The breading process gives fried chicken its signature crispy coating. For a classic breading, use a mixture of flour, salt, pepper, and other seasonings. Dredge the marinated chicken in flour, then dip it in beaten eggs or buttermilk, and coat it with seasoned flour again. This double-dipping method creates a thicker, crunchier crust. For added texture, you can incorporate breadcrumbs or cornmeal into the flour mixture.

5. Fry in Batches

When cooking for a crowd, frying in batches is crucial to avoid overcrowding the pan. Overcrowding can cause the temperature of the oil to drop, resulting in greasy and soggy chicken. Use a large, heavy-bottomed skillet or deep fryer, and maintain the oil temperature at around 350°F (175°C). Fry the chicken in small batches to ensure that each piece gets the crispy coating and even cooking it deserves. Drain the fried chicken on a wire rack to keep it crispy.

Conclusion

Making fried chicken for a crowd involves careful planning, marinating, and frying. Choose uniform cuts, marinate in buttermilk, and use a seasoned flour coating for a crispy crust. Fry in batches to avoid overcrowding and keep the chicken warm in an oven. Complement with classic sides and sauces. For local inspiration, check out fried chicken in Mattoon, IL, to make your event a success.

[sams-venting]

To be completely honest, the show isn't... good. It's like, passable at best. It has good ideas and earnest storytelling, but the execution of those ideas is often hit-or-miss. Even when a good idea is well-executed, it usually overstays its welcome and becomes stale really fast. Nothing ever amounts to anything. Nothing ever has any weight. Who cares if such-and-such dies for the umpteenth time? We know we'll see them again in, like, at most a couple weeks. There are no stakes, and there's no reason to believe any of the characters will have evolved in any meaningful way around such a time that the show ends.

I'm not saying I don't like the show. It is kind of hard to watch, though. If uploads weren't daily and the team had more time to really give these cool ideas and story beats the attention they deserve, I would be a huge fan. I don't even mind that it's basically improv because they're all really good at improv! That's a huge deal, considering they're acting in VR! That isn't my issue with the show, I like improv. But the team have done themselves a disservice by not really making a concrete decision about the age demographic and by locking themselves into such a demanding upload schedule. It's like they've gathered a bunch of really nice and fresh ingredients for a cake, combined everything into a batter, and then didn't leave it in the oven long enough.

I really hate to say it, but I'm very much reminded of High Guardian Spice if anyone remembers that. There's so much potential for a good show, so much talent, such cool ideas, but there's not a sturdy enough foundation to carry all these good things.

And I hate to be so critical, I honestly do, because I'm sure it's not easy. I don't wanna look at something that people clearly spend a lot of time and effort on, something I even enjoy, and just shit all over that hard work. So, I guess I better try to make this constructive, at least?

So, here's what I would do if I was in charge:

Obviously, the daily upload schedule is good for the algorithm, but it doesn't lend itself well to the show's pacing. These ideas and story beats need space to breathe and run their full course, which is really difficult to make happen in a 15 - 20 minute time frame. Even if it was like, a twice a week upload schedule (still a pretty substantial amount), there'd be way more time to flesh episodes out and really use those 15 - 20 minutes as efficiently as possible. Plus, I'm sure it'd be way less stressful.

I would also try to space out the amount of big, dramatic events that leave the characters traumatized and needing therapy. When they happen so frequently, you start to wonder how the characters aren't completely jaded by now. In between all the big adventures and dying several times and always having to defend themselves from the villains, there should be way more moments of levity. Those moments can still be serious and develop the characters' personalities, but if the big drama is constantly happening, it just becomes the background hum, you know? It loses its impact when it's the norm.

Ideally, I feel like the show would resemble ATLA a lot more. You can have your serious themes, your death, your jokes, your magic, your fun, your family drama, your badass villains, your characters growing and changing and discovering themselves, and you can even make that all happen in a show that appeals to all ages! It's possible! But it's really difficult to reach that point if you don't give yourself more than like 12 hours to craft each episode.

.

[izzymybeloved]

Ruby Gillman: Teenage Kraken spoiler review

I saw Ruby Gillman: Teenage Kraken two weeks ago and I think it's a good movie but it does have some problems. For the positives, I like the character designs, Ruby’s a nice protagonist, I LOVE Ruby’s friends and they’re funny to me, I like Ruby’s love interest. Also Chelsea’s is a funny Ariel parody. And I also like everything this movie sets up but how it executes it is where my problems start. The movie has a lot of stories going on like Ruby trying to fit in high school, the kraken vs mermaid war, prom, Agatha's (Ruby's mom) relationship with her mom, and Ruby being a descendant of royalty. Many people say that the problem with the movie is that it has too many stories but I think they connect well in the first half. My problem is that it isn't paced well in the second half. For example, Ruby and Chelsea become friends and Chelsea thinks that if Ruby gets a trident that was lost during the kraken vs mermaid war, then that could unite both of their kingdoms but then when Ruby does get the trident and gives it to Chelsea, Chelsea’s revealed to be Nerissa, the leader of the mermaids and she wants to take down the krakens and this happens in the span of 10 minutes. If they wanted the twist to surprise the audience or hit hard then they should've taken a lot more time showing Ruby and Chelsea's friendship and NOT SPOIL IT IN THE TRAILERS. Or you could've made Chelsea actually Nerissa's daughter and at first she doesn't care about Ruby and manipulates her because her mom wants to. But then after a lot of bonding, Ruby and Chelsea become actual friends. Though doing this you might lose the parody aspect. I do think if this movie was 50 minutes to an hour longer then it would've been able to flesh out everything. Flesh out the high school stuff, the war, the prom, Agatha and her mom's relationship, and Ruby being a descendant of royalty. Also, this is a personal thing but I feel like a movie about a mermaid and kraken war, there should've been more mermaids. Like I feel like we should've seen where Chelsea/Nerissa came from. Overall, Ruby Gillman is a good movie but it just needed some more time in the oven and even though it’s not the best movie, it didn’t deserve to bomb the way it did in theaters. I give this movie a 6/10. 

[pie-of-flames]

John/Paul ficlets

I wrote a couple of little things for the Three Sentence Ficathon over on Dreamwidth. If you're so inclined, anyone can leave as many prompts as they want and there are pages and pages of prompts to fill, many of which are any fandom.

Prompt: Gilded

1967 When Paul stops his idle strumming, John puts down his book; it’s getting too dark to read anyway. The sun’s low over the trees, lighting up the meditation dome with a red-orange glow and gilding Paul’s profile as he gazes up at the sky. Mesmerized, John reaches over and with the tip of his index finger, follows the golden line from Paul’s forehead, with its soft fringe now a sun-kissed brown, down his nose to the delicate divot of his upper lip, then falling to his plump, rosy lips, which curve into a smile to match John’s as the finger gives way to John’s eager mouth.

Prompt: Food as a metaphor for love I gave up on trying to keep this to 3 sentences. Oh well. 70’s AUish “What the hell?” Paul thought as he opened the box and pulled out containers of flour and yeast and a page of detailed instructions written in a familiar hand, illustrated with a cartoon of John with a giant beaky nose, bird’s nest hair and giant oven mitts.

Your mission if you choose to accept it, began the instructions, and Paul grinned as he read his assignment and thought, “Game on, Lennon.”

One week later, as Paul bustled into John’s New York apartment laden with packages, John said, “You actually did it. I don’t believe it,” before he tore open one of the packages to reveal a perfectly executed sourdough loaf topped with John’s face made in dough. “My nose is not that big,” he protested as Paul’s arms snaked around his waist. 

“Taste first, critique later,” Paul whispered into his ear. Not wasting any time on niceties, John tore into the bread and stuffed it in his mouth. As he chewed, his eyes widened. “I love you, Paul, but this is unacceptable. Nobody makes a better sourdough than me.”

“Is that right?” Paul smirked. “I met the challenge, didn’t I? John flapped away Paul’s hands that were trying to sneak under his waistband. “Yeah, but you weren’t supposed to win. I can’t have that.” He started frantically pulling out flour and pots and pans.

“Hold on, hold on,” Paul said as he yanked the flour out of John’s grip and pushed John against the counter, hands slipping under John’s shirt to get at his warm skin. “I came all this way, Johnnie. Don’t I deserve a thank you?” 

“I just want to…”  Paul cut off his words with a kiss that rendered John boneless.

“Oh,” John gasped when they finally broke apart. “You’re bloody good at that, you know? But I think I can do you one better.” He started tugging Paul toward the bedroom. 

[suncoastcustomhomesblog]

Revamp Your Kitchen with a Stellar Kitchen Remodelling Service Naples

Are you currently confined to a cramped and inefficient kitchen space? A professional kitchen remodelling service can help you unlock the full potential of your cooking area. From strategic layout restructuring to functional cabinet installations, these experts know exactly how to optimize your kitchen space, making it a dream come true for meal preparations and family gatherings.

Stay in Vogue with the Latest Trends

Revitalize your kitchen by incorporating the latest design trends. By employing a reliable kitchen remodelling service, you'll have access to professionals with up-to-date knowledge on the latest style profiles. Whether it's sleek, minimalist designs or charming farmhouse aesthetics, their guidance will ensure your remodelled kitchen is a true reflection of your personal style.

Let Your Personality Shine

Your kitchen is more than just a place to cook; it's an extension of your personality. With a professional kitchen remodelling service, you can add personalized touches to truly make the space your own. From unique backsplash options to custom lighting fixtures, unleash your creativity and infuse your kitchen with a touch of your own character.

Upgrade to Modern Appliances

Outdated appliances can hinder your cooking experience and drain your energy efficiency. A kitchen remodelling service provides you with the opportunity to upgrade to modern and energy-efficient appliances. From built-in ovens to smart refrigerators, these upgrades not only enhance functionality but also reduce your environmental impact, putting you on the path to a greener kitchen.

Enhance the Value of Your Home

A well-executed kitchen remodel not only rejuvenates your cooking space but also adds value to your home. Should you decide to sell in the future, a beautifully remodelled kitchen serves as a major selling point. Potential buyers are more likely to be captivated by a kitchen that exudes style, functionality, and exquisite craftsmanship.

Transforming your kitchen into a paradise of convenience and aesthetics is within reach, thanks to the excellent services provided by professional Kitchen Remodelling Service Naples. Whether you're seeking to upgrade appliances, follow the latest trends, or simply rejuvenate your living space, a kitchen remodelling service can turn your dreams into reality. So, say goodbye to your mundane kitchen and give it the makeover it deserves with the expert guidance of a stellar kitchen remodelling service.

[localapplicance]

ILVE Oven Repair: The Benefits of Professional Service

So your trusty Ilve oven has finally given up the ghost. There you were, preparing a culinary masterpiece, when smoke started billowing from the oven vents, and that familiar burning smell filled the kitchen. Now you're left with two options: attempt a DIY repair or call in the professionals. Sure, your buddy who's handy with tools offered to take a look, but do you want to risk ruining your prized appliance for good? Regarding ILVE ovens, it's best to leave repairs to the experts. Professional Ilve oven repairs services have the proper training, tools, and parts to get your oven back up and running safely. Keep reading to discover why calling a pro for your ILVE oven repair is the wisest choice.

Why Choose a Professional ILVE Oven Repair Service?

Why trust any handyman with your high-end ILVE oven? Precision appliances demand expert servicing. ILVE oven technician have the knowledge, skills, and materials to safely and rapidly repair your oven.

A pro will identify the issue right away. They can diagnose the problem since they know how Ilve ovens' complex components work. No guesswork or unnecessary replacements. This saves time, money, and stress.

Technicians remain current on ILVE oven technology and repair. They can fix even the most complicated ovens.

Ovens' high temperatures and voltages need safety. The best technicians follow safety standards to prevent harm.

Why risk? Local licensed technicians provide economical ILVE oven repairs. Your ideal oven deserves nothing less.

Conclusion

Thus, the main reasons to choose a professional for ILVE oven repairs. Ovens and time are precious. Professionals are trained, experienced, and equipped to execute the work perfectly the first time. No more stress or missed work waiting for wrongly ordered components. Call the professionals and relax—you'll be baking again soon. Find a trustworthy local provider to maintain your ILVE oven. You should return to your passion!

[maulusque]

Clone genetic enhancement ideas

So the clones were genetically enhanced, but i don’t really see any writers (in fanfic or in published stuff) really exploring what that MEANS beyond “clone very stronk”. Here are some ideas that would actually make clones significantly different from just a regular-ass human in peak condition. 

-enhanced senses: eyesight, hearing, etc. I’m talking eyes like a HAWK

-better reflexes

-quicker information processing

-can hear sounds of higher and lower frequency than standard humans

-can see light of a broader spectrum than human standard

-learn quicker, retain information and skills better (potential problem: if you learn something the WRONG way, that way might stick really well)

-photographic memory (really useful for memorizing layouts and maps)

-immunity to various diseases

-can tolerate a wider range of temperatures and environments

-increased stamina and strength baseline. Clones can just run full-tilt for hours and hours and be like “ah a nice stroll”. Over long distances, they can out-pace jedi in the same way that humans can out-pace horses.

-higher tolerance of certain poisons/toxins (clones can straight-up drink ethanol, and get maybe a little tipsy)

-bodies respond quickly to physical stress, and slowly to the absence of it (basically, this means that physical conditioning results in stronger muscles and a stronger cardiovascular system really quickly, and it takes MUCH longer for a clone to lose strength and conditioning due to not exercising than standard humans. Think how much valuable training time is saved if they only have to go on a run like, once a month in order to stay in shape)

-increased ability to function through intense pain and acute injuries. Basically, semi-disabling the pain system so it’s less distracting. Probably not good for the survival of the individual in many situations, but an advantage on the battlefield. 

-heal faster and better, with fewer long-term complications. Clones can dislocate their shoulders and NOT have the joint be permanently fucked up, because the Kaminoans re-designed the whole damn thing to suck WAY less.

-actually, unique internal anatomy. There’s probably a lot about the human body besides the shoulder joint that is actually just really stupid, and something no intelligent designer would actually build. So the Kaminoans can fix a lot of that stuff. Better knees, maybe. Stronger ribs. Maybe Cody punches droids not just because he’s a mad bastard, but also because his metatarsals are literally as strong as steel. 

-Hearing loss/hearing damage? No problem, your ear can regrow those little hair-thingies that help you hear. 

-Of course, it takes energy to maintain muscle mass, which is why human bodies lose it if we’re not using it. Clones need significantly more calories than standard humans. However, their digestive systems are enhanced to extract calories and nutrients from food much more efficiently, so food goes much farther. Potential weird side effect: maybe clones only have to poop like, once a week?

-You could probably extend that into increased ability to tolerate long periods without food/on low rations, despite the increased need for calories. 

-wouldn’t it be NEAT if the kaminoans somehow designed self-repairing DNA. This would mean that others couldn’t take a DNA sample from a clone and modify it to create their own clones (basically, it protects their product. It’s like DRM for clones). This ALSO means that clones couldn’t get cancer, and that they’d be immune to radiation poisoning. So a clone could just walk up to a sphere of uranium at critical mass and pick it up. Maybe with oven mitts on if it’s hot. (this would also make it harder for a rapid-aging cure to be developed, but uhhhh fanfic writers find a way)

- “bred for obedience” I think most of this would have to be accomplished through tightly-controlled messaging and cultural norms as the clones grow up- basically, enshrining obedience as a desirable and almost sacred trait, to be prized higher than anything else, including the lives of your brothers. In the same way that we hear stories of people sacrificing their lives to protect their loved ones, the clones would grow up hearing stories of soldiers sacrificing their brothers’ lives to obey an order from a superior. 

-SOME of the “obedience” thing could be engineered, though. Humans are already super social, but it would probably make sense for the clones to have an even greater need for social bonds. This would make for greater teamwork and coordination, and better unit cohesion, since the clones would be more inclined to prioritize friendship/agreeing with someone over winning an argument. It would also make it so they’d bond with their natural-born generals more easily, so they would obey them not just because they’re supposed to, but because they’d be much quicker to see them as a friend, and someone who’s trust they want to earn, someone they want to incorporate into their group and make happy.

-consequently, clones who find themselves alone do NOT do well. Isolation has a much more profoundly negative impact on clones than on regular humans.

-Originally, clones designed to operate alone or in small teams would not have the social enhancement- ARC troopers, spec-ops teams, etc. There wouldn’t be much of a noticeable difference in everyday interactions, but they’d also be vaguely weirded out by what they interpret as aggressive friendliness from their brothers, and their brothers would think they’re a bit shy and standoffish. 

-actually this social modification would make it MUCH harder for clones to kill people. REGULAR HUMANS are already super bad at killing people- i remember reading this article about how as soon as soldiers have to point their weapons at actual people, their aim gets mysteriously much shittier. Even when compared to situations that are exactly the same, except they’re not shooting at other humans. So reconcile this how you will, idk.

-I imagine a lot of these enhancements would be accomplished not through DNA, but through microorganisms. Retroviruses could explain the DNA resistant to modification, and the increased healing speed, and possibly some disease resistance (do i know anything about retroviruses other than a vague concept of what they are? no i do not. will that stop me? also no.) Their metabolism can be partially explained through specially engineered gut microbes.

-not sure how they’d go about making clones “resistant to any stress”, because you can’t exactly turn off the trauma response in the brain without breaking a bunch of other things. They could probably do a bit of fiddling to make clones more resistant to chemical imbalances, and therefore more depression-resistant. I think most of the “stress-resistance” would have to come through training. Either they train the clones to basically suppress everything, which might work alright in the short term. OR they actually have systems in place that help prevent the development of things like PTSD and help treat trauma. Meaning the clones are literally trained in self-care, positive self-talk, talking about their pain with their brothers, and having community rituals around things like death and grief. I don’t think that’s super likely because one thing that’s integral to those concepts is the concept of “i am a person and i have worth, and if i feel angry about something bad happening, that is ok and valid” and considering that a whole lot of bad things happen to the clones all the time and their childhood is a whole boatload of bad all happening at once, i don’t think the kaminoans would want the clones realizing “hey wait a minute i’m a person and i don’t deserve to be treated this way and it’s ok for me to be mad at you”. 

- the clones were supposedly engineered to be “less aggressive” but i think there was literally nothing more to that than a cover story for the control chip. The clones wouldn’t be raised with a lot of the aggressive western concept of masculinity, where anger is the default reaction to like, everything, and your personal pride is extremely important and also fragile (no offense lmao). So you wouldn’t have clones posturing and getting angry over perceived slights and fighting each other all the time, like everyone in-universe apparently expects to be the case. Anyway, why would you want your soldiers to be less aggressive? they’re literally supposed to fight and kill the enemy. You want them fully capable of getting angry, anger is the human response to fear and danger that lets us DO something about it. 

-obviously the biggest component in how they behave would be how they are raised, but that’s an entirely different post

-Specializations! I imagine that initially, the Kaminoans had different clones with different traits engineered specifically to fill certain roles. However, as the war went on, they struggled to keep up with demand and had to start shoving clones into whatever roles were needed (hence Fives and Echo becoming ARCs, despite not being engineered as ARC troopers). 

-Command clones would have better abilities in the executive function parts of the brain that deal with extrapolation, planning ahead, spatial reasoning, etc. They’d also have increased visual pattern recognition (like a pigeon)

-search-and-rescue troops would also have the pigeon pattern recognition abilities. The coast guard literally strapped pigeons to helicopters who would tap a button when they saw orange in the water, because they were better at spotting it than humans. Pigeons can detect cancer in microscope images of cells, because they’re that good at pattern recognition

-Pilots would have hella reflexes, excellent spatial awareness and spatial reasoning skills, much greater ability to process visual information, stronger hearts and blood vessels (to resist greater Gs of force), and they’d also be much shorter, to better fit into a cockpit. Which reminds me of Axe, that poor bastard from Ahsoka’s squadron over Ryloth who was almost eight feet tall. rip poor Axe, how did you even become a pilot, you long bastard.

-medics who can smell certain diseases. If you want to get a little bit out there, make the medics able to purr so they can sooth stressed-out patients. 

-infantry would have even greater endurance than everyone else, as well as greater tolerance for, and ability to, remain constantly on alert.

-ability to fall asleep at will? that would be super dope.

-maybe more efficient sleep, so to an adult clone, 4 hours of sleep is genuinely sufficient.

-concept: clones can sort of turn down their bodily functions- slow their digestion, heart, lungs, the whole nine yards- to last longer in adverse conditions. Sort of a half-hibernation (or quarter hibernation- they’d still be able to talk and think, but they’d feel very lethargic). They wouldn’t be able to function very well, but it would be great for things like enduring intense cold, periods without food, low-oxygen environments, and it would be especially useful if you were wounded and waiting for help, since you could slow your circulation, meaning it would take you a lot longer to bleed out. This state could be triggered by a combination of physical actions such as sitting or lying still, breathing slowly and deeply, and focusing on slowing the heart down (humans can actually slow down their hearts consciously if you practice at it, this is basically that, but turned up to like 1100).

-one thing that never made sense to me was the whole “we’re running out of jango fett’s DNA, all the new clones won’t be as good, and we have to stop ventress from stealing the original DNA” because like, can’t they just, get the EXACT SAME DNA from the clones?? you know, the exact genetic copies? With all the enhancements already done? But now my idea is that the kaminoans have engineered the clones so their DNA straight up can’t be copied. The clone’s own body can obviously replicate it, but if you take a sample and try to extract the DNA, it just self-destructs or something. This is to protect their intellectual property, but also means that they literally have to use a couple of Jango Fett’s actual human cells for every single clone they make (and the fact that they then have to do all the above enhancements to every single embryo helps explain why there’s so many small mutations, such as hair color and height). So they kinda shot themselves in the foot with that one. 

-of course since things like ADHD and autism have a strong genetic component, the kaminoans could theoretically engineer those out of the clones, but actually FUCK THAT so for whatever reason, that’s just not something they are able to do, and neurodivergent clones are absolutely a thing

[herohikara-wol]

FFXIV Write 2k22 - Prompt 19

Turn a Blind Eye

Thancred and Hero discuss keeping Zenos around as a not-really-a-scion-because-we-supposedly-disbanded team member. Hero shows off his shiny new spine, surgically inserted by his Dark Knight Job Stone. Takes place after Prompt 11 (Live) and around the same timeline as Prompt 14 (Attrition).

“So how long are we going to play this little game?”

“What little game?” Things were calming down, Hero had time to spend at his bakery without having to worry about the fate of the world, and it was hard for even Thancred’s most withering stare to burst his bubble when he was in his element.

“Playing house with the man who tried to end the Star over a crush, Hero. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” While most of the other scions had given little more than a sigh and shake of the head over Hero’s housing arrangement, Thancred wasn’t quite so willing to let the hatchet rest in the shallow grave Hero’d tried to bury it in. “Does Gridania even know he’s been living here with you?”

Hero’s ears twitched a bit and the Viera’s light steps faltered, “Kan-E-Senna knows what she needs to know. I haven’t heard any complaints, I still report to the Twin Adders from time to time and no one has said a word to me about it. So presumably the only person with a problem is you.”

Granted what the Seedseer technically knew about Zenos was that Hero had a Garlean refugee living in his home whose family died from the tempering fiasco in Garlemald and was currently displaced. The name of the man had conveniently slipped Hero’s mind at the time. He was a shite liar, but absolutely fantastic with his misdirection. It was technically correct and that was all Hero needed to be able to say it with confidence.

Sadly, Thancred was one of maybe four people who could see right through his charms. “Alright, well if he’s so interested in making amends, where is he at the current moment?”

“Well, you know how he kidnapped Krile once upon a time and patterned his Resonant after her echo?”

“Of course I do, you know I do. I helped find her.”

“You know how Krile is a terrifying woman when she’s holding a grudge?”

“Oh. Oh that is priceless. You left Zenos with her?” The scowl on Thancred’s face lightened for a moment before the concern turned his features dark again, “alone? If anything happens to her, Hero-”

“With G’raha, a linkpearl, and without his voidsent; he has to rely on weapons that store their own aether again. I think right now they’re using Raha’s Allagan blood to force some systems in Azys Lla to calm down enough for extraction and research. Nero basically hired G’raha for the excursion. From the calls I’ve been getting, they make a good adventuring group. Zenos is the muscle, Krile is good at providing succor, G’raha is a jack of all trades, and Nero is Nero.”

“You mean Nero is a problem.” Thancred folded his arms over his chest, still trying to see between the lines in Hero’s vivid explanation, only to shake his head. “You honestly think he can be redeemed.”

Hero bit his tongue for a moment, the oven’s timer finally going off and giving him the chance to think about what he wanted to say. “I think everyone deserves a chance to be better. Would most rather see him executed? Of course, but let’s be honest, who would be able to? Percival would refuse on principle. That leaves me, and if I refuse, then who?”

The words had their intended effect, Thancred’s face twisted like he’d just tried to drink curdled milk. Zenos had proven he could face a hundred armed men and kill them all while unarmed. No one save Hero or Percival could even hope to subdue him, much less execute him. Zenos was now part of what remained of the scions.

Whether he liked it or not.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Hero. If you make an enemy of the entire star over one man, where would you go? What would you do?”

“I don’t know, but this is my choice, and I’m sticking to it.” He hummed for a moment, “granted, if I had to leave this star, I could. I could take Zenos with me too. Unlike everyone else, this doesn’t have to be my home, and if it comes to that? Well, then I guess we’ll burn that bridge when we get there.”

For once there was no joy in Hero’s smile, and the underlying threat struck true. Hero could go to Elpis, to the First, to any of the other remaining Shards to live his life with Zenos- and not a single soul could stop him or even go after him save a man best described as an elder wyrm in a fragile mortal shell. No one alive would stop their warrior of light from leaving if he didn’t get his way.

It was petty, petulant, and above all else? It was selfish. However, Thancred let out a sigh and his shoulders slumped, “I suppose you deserve to keep one thing for yourself after everything you’ve been through. If that means I need to learn how to work with Zenos, then I guess I have little choice but to try.”

Hero’s long ears perked up as his blue eyes sparkled again, “thank you for understanding. I was honestly afraid you’d be more insistent, I don’t usually get to dig my heels in. I’m trying to practice advocating for my own needs more.” Lest Esteem strangle him in the night and take charge of his own volition.

“I just wish your needs were less complicated.” Thancred reached for the tray of biscotti Hero had just pulled from the oven only to get his hand swatted. “They’re done, aren’t they?”

“Not yet! I still have to dip them in chocolate and sprinkle the candied orange peel over them. You can wait.” The tension eased and Hero was back to his chipper self, as if the conversation had been forgotten already.

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Day 8: Tepid

Modern AU. Agi and Estinien plans for a romantic evening are derailed by a broken water heater. NSFW.

“Well, there’s good news and bad news.” Agnes said, holding her phone to her ear with her shoulder as she put the teriyaki tofu tempeh casserole in the oven. “The good news is dinner will be ready when you get here, love.”

“And the bad news?”

“The water heater is busted, so our dreams of a romantic, if extremely tight, bath, will be…tepid at best. But,” Agnes said excitedly. “I’ve got your favorite beer, so that’s good!”

Beer is good. Tepid romantic bath…not good. “That’s something at least. I’ll see in a bell or so, sweetheart.”

***

After they had dinner (my recipe but Agi makes it taste a million times better than when I make it) and some making out on the couch (she’s perfect in every way---move-in day can’t come soon enough), she and Estinien retreated to her bedroom.

“I tried to find some fire crystals, but alas, none were found.” Agnes sighed, removing her clothes. “Are you sure you still want to do this romantic bath? We can—”

“Aye, we can see how it goes. If anything,” Estinien smirked and pinched her ass. “We can cuddle in bed. Either way, we’re having a romantic evening.” NO MATTER WHAT! You deserve everything, my sweet sausage roll.

“Oh! You naughty man! Let’s check on the bath…” She and Estinien entered her bathroom, and Agnes put her hand in the water in the tub. “Tepid. You in first or me?”

Estinien shrugged. “I suppose me, since I’m the taller one?” I think I misjudged. I’m not sure if both of us can fit in here. He managed to sit but couldn’t stretch his legs. “Maybe…you get in…hmmmm…” The water is certainly not making this romantic. Shit.

Agnes took off her glasses and placed them on the sink. “If I get in front of you? Let’s try that.” She carefully stepped into the tub, trying to adjust herself to be in between Estinien’s legs. “Could you widen—”

“Agi, I can’t move my legs any wider.”

“What if—”

“AGI!”

She lost her balance a bit and nearly toppled onto Estinien, who had his hands firmly gripping her hips.

“I’m so sorry! I’ll just step out and—”

Estinien shook his head, waiting for her to get out of the tub first. “Let’s just cuddle in bed. Tepid water’s no good for my cock anyways.”

Excellent idea. Shit execution. No matter though—who doesn’t love a cuddle and fuck in bed?

[cedric-stories]

A Royal New Year Party

Word Count: Around 2,400

Plot: After getting done planning a New Year’s Eve party, Cedric meets a man that makes the sorcerer question his relationship with you.

Warnings: Angst and language

Author’s Note: This just came to me cause people used to be such jerks to my ex about us being a couple. So, kinda personal and kinda just I adore Cedric and want my baby to know he’s loved.

Author’s Note note: Okay, so I had another fic like this but I’m finally gonna address it; the world is set in our time so there are cell phones and stuff. I know I changed it from the show, but it was just easier for me. Also, this is gonna be the last fic for a few days. tbh, I haven’t even started the next ones, but I do have outlines. Hope you enjoy and happy New Year!!!

Reader pronouns: she/her

                                       A Royal New Year Party

Here it is, the greatest party of every year. The royal family’s enchanted New Year’s Eve party was only a few hours away.

           “Cedric, could you please conjure another bouquet of roses?”

“Cedric, can you please just conjure one more turkey? The chef ran out of bird, so he is begging you to make one; but please don’t tell the King!”

           “Cedric, can you put the floating plates over here?”

“Cedric, can you conjure a few more chairs?”

           “Cedric, where is god’s name is that turkey!?”

           Yes, these were the sounds the poor sorcerer had been listening to all day. Everyone and their chef have been pestering him. He was in the middle of all the bustling and rustling. Things at been nonstop for hours and he was getting sick of it. The past day, he had been conjuring plates, chairs, ovens, instruments, and everything in between to make this party amazing. King Roland expected the very best to wow his guests, so he wanted Cedric not only to create dozens of items, but to enchant everything.

The King wanted enchanted chairs that could sway with the music, enchanted instruments that could play on their own to give the orchestra a break, and enchanted silverware that could dazzle the guests with dancing and singing. It was quite complicated to cast spell after spell (especially enchanted ones) and it was beginning to tire the man.

           Cedric was finishing up one more spell when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Well done, Cedric!” The king boomed from behind the sorcerer, scaring him out of his wits.  

           “Thank you, your majesty. I am honored.” He said, turning and bowing his head.  

“You’re very welcome, things are coming along nicely. Now, since you’ve been working all day, have you given any thought to what you have planned tonight?”

           Cedric lifted his shoulder in a half shrug.

“No, I haven’t really thought of anything.”

           “Well then,” Roland paused, gesturing to all the gold and black decorations, “why don’t the two of you celebrate the new year with us? I’m sure y/n would love it.”  

“I-we would love to and I greatly appreciate the offer,” Cedric started, “but I think we are going to celebrate the new year just the two of us.”

           Roland gave Cedric a disappointed look.

“Alright, if you insist. We will all miss you and y/n. If you change your mind, you guys are welcome.”

           “Thank you, your highness.” He said, beginning to walk out of the ballroom through majestic, golden doors.

Cedric trudged through the halls of the castle. He came across the coffee shop on the corner of the ballroom and royal dining hall and scurried into line to get a cup.

           Workers of all types stood back to front. One man wearing a blue vest, top hat, and holding a scepter in his hands was in front of cedric.

           “Hello, sir. The name’s Jonathan” The man greeted the sorcerer. His eyes seemed warm and inviting enough to talk to.

“Oh, hello.” Cedric answered, barely shaking his head to try, and come to consciousness.

           “What do you do around here, fine man?”

“I’m the royal sorcerer for Enchantcia. You may know me by Cedric the Sensational?”

The man looked perplexed for a minute, then, as if realization came down from the gods, Jonathan’s face turned up and Cedric could see the lightbulb come on.

           “Oh yes! You are the one who tried taking over the kingdom a few years back!”

Cedric cringed.

           “Yes, I am.” He said, trying hard not to recall those memories but nevertheless, remembered them vividly.

           “My, I was sure good old Kind Roland would have you executed for that!”

“Oh yes, didn’t we all?” Cedric rolled his eyes.

           “And the way the towns folk talked about you, it musta been hard to show you face around them parts for a while, eh?”

“Eh.” Cedric sarcastically parroted back.

           “Why, never in my wildest dreams would old Winnie and Goodwin’s kiddy ever try a stunt like that.”                        

“Yes, quite,” Cedric paused, narrowing his eyes at the man, “foolish of me.”

“You know, your father saved old’ king Roland’s daddy from a few monsters like yourself!”

           “yes, yes, I know. Oh look, you’re at the counter, time to order now.” Cedric rushed.

“Oh, look at that. Hi, ma’am, I’ll have a…”

           Once the man had finished ordering, cedric got up to the counter and ordered a cold caramel frappe. After, he went to sit down and wait. The bustling of people became a background noise and Cedric finally got some peace. While he sat and tried to unwind-

           “There you are good buddy!” The same talkative man said, jostling over to Cedric.

“Here I am.”

           After a long talk about Cedric’s wrongs, the man began to inquire about Cedric’s personal life.

           “So, I doubt after your long, ungrateful journey back to civilized living hadn’t brought you company of any kind?”

           Cedric believed the man meant a significant other but wasn’t really sure.

           “Pardon?”

“A woman! Have you gotten yourself a woman?!”

           Cedric gave the man a blank stare and leaned away from his sudden enthusiasm. Why in god’s name does this man want to know so much about him? He thought about telling him or not. If I do, he’s going to go on how I don’t deserve someone, or not believe me entirely. And why does he just presume I have a woman? Has the man never heard of two men living happily together? Why does this man care so much about my life?

           “I do have a significant other.” Cedric finally let out.

“Well for heavens sakes, how the hell did you get one?”

           “Well, we met over a year ago and- “

“No one in her right mind would want you. You’re so unstable compared to others your age. Eh, she’s probably just waiting’ on someone better anyways.”

           Cedric was now completely offended and didn’t really know how to answer. Without saying another word, he rose to get his coffee from the counter and left.

On his walk home, Cedric began thinking.

I have been with Y/N for almost a year. I don’t deserve her. Does she even want to be with me? Maybe I’ve just fooled myself into thinking she really loves me when all this time she’s only stayed around cause there’s no one else. Maybe he’s right, maybe it was just weird I found her. She probably is just waiting for someone better to come along and leave…I’ve done so much wrong, maybe she doesn’t even want me?

           After his long debate, Cedric headed upstairs to his tower. The stone walls felt cold against cedric’s fingers as he guided himself up three floors of spiraled stairs. He looked out one of the windows to see the sun turning orange as it set over glistening red trees. It was beautiful in Enchantcia tonight. After looking for only a minute, he started back up the stairs.

Once he had made it to the door, he took a big breath and he walked in to find his girlfriend sitting crisscrossed on a table. You were wearing Black lacy shorts with flowers embroidered along with a spaghetti strapped top that matched. Trying to pick up your phone off the floor, you were dangling from the edge. You grabbed your phone and looked up to see your boyfriend.

           “Ceddy! You’re finally home.” You smiled, jumping off the table onto your sorcerer. Your hair was in a messy bun and fluffed up into his face when you grabbed onto him for a hug.

           “Hello, Angel.”

“I’ve been missing you all day.” You said, snuggling in tighter.

           “I have too. Oh, this is for you.” He said, giving you a hot mocha.

Your smile widened. “Thank you!”    After grabbing the hot beverage from him, you look a sip, and placed it on the table.

“You look tired.”

           “I am tired.” Cedric laughed, hugging you. He was happy to be home to you until he started remembering the conversation he had with Jonathan.

Noticing him grow somber, you asked him if he was okay.

           Cedric hesitated, “Yes, just tired I think.”

“Okay, why don’t you take a nap?” You asked, still having a questioning look on your face.

           “I may.”

You kissed him gently on the cheek and made sure he got to the bedroom. Closing the door behind you, you decided to grab a book and read until he woke.

                                                                       …

After a few hours, you decided to check on Cedric. You wanted to make sure he was okay after what happened earlier.

Walking into the bedroom, you found your boyfriend already awake on his phone.

           “Hello.” You greeted, walking along the side of the bed.

Cedric nodded at you.

           Carefully, you made you way to the upper part of the bed and sat down. Noticing his standoffish actions, you scooted closer to him.

           “Babe, what’s wrong? Please, tell me.” You quietly pleaded.

He looked over at you with glassy eyes. His face was full of pain, but you just couldn’t put a finger on what upset him.

           “Did I say or do something?”

“No.” He answered, shifting away from you slightly.

           “Cedric, tell me what’s wrong.” You grabbed his hand and put it on your lap.

He ran his other hand through his hair, and you noticed his shoulders tense.

           “Y/n,” he paused, his voice almost choking, “why-why do you stay here?”

You became confused.

           “What?”

“Why do you stay here…with me?”

           “I don’t u- “

“You have been with me for almost a year, and for merlin’s sake I have no idea why you stay.”

           “I love you.” You said, without thinking twice.

Cedric’s eyes met yours.

           “I love you, but I just don’t see how you could love me.”

You could feel the sting of tears in your eyes.

           “Cedric, how could you not see- “

“Do you know what I am?”

           You stared at him, “Do I know what you are?”

“Yes. Do you know what I am?”

           You ran your hand up his arm gently, “You’re mine.”

“No. I mean, do you understand what I’ve done? I’ve tried overthrowing the kingdom, I plotted against the royal family for years. Everything had a terrible motive, everything I did was selfish, I dreamed of making others bow before me. I am not a good person.”

           “Cedric! Of course, I know that. I’ve always known all of that. I love you for you. You are a good person now, and I don’t care about your past, I love you for everything you are and once was.”

           Cedric looked down then he cocked his head.

“Once was?”

           You took a breath.

“Cedric, I’ve never admitted it, but I really don’t care you tried overthrowing the kingdom. It’s not healthy, I know, but sometimes I think my love for you is stronger than my morals.” You laughed nervously. “You are my person, my lobster, as some show would say, and no matter what, I love you. I’m not saying what you did was right, but because I love you, I overlook it easily.”

           He grabbed ahold of your hand and you wrapped your arm around him. He hugged you back tightly and you knew he felt better. You kissed the side of his cheek and laid you head on his chest.

           “What even made you think of that, love?”

“Nothing, I guess I just will never quite get used to you being mine.”

           The two of you sat in silence for a minute, then cedric turned towards you.

           “The royal family is having a party tonight to bring in the new year. I was wondering if you would want to go. The King invited us.”

           You beamed a smile.

“I’d love to!”

About an hour later, the two of you were walking down the hall towards the ballroom.

Once you arrived, you were greeted by a loud orchestra and babbling voices. The room was full of women in suits and dresses and men in the same attire. It was an extravagant gathering with gold and black streamers lining the walls and draping over the ceiling. At the front of the room sat the orchestra with its self-playing instruments and band members walking about. Some guests sat on floating chairs and plates that followed behind others walking. Workers hurried around, grabbing dirty, golden silverware.

           Cedric and you started over to the royal table when Sofia came running over.

“Mr. Cedric! Miss. Y/n! I’m so happy you guys could come.” She shouted over the music, running up and giving Cedric a hug followed by yours.

           “I’m glad we could. Please tell your father that we are very grateful.” You said to the young girl wearing the pink amulet.

           “I will. Are you guys going to sit down? There’s two chairs next to me.”

“Yes, we are. We’ll be over in a minute. Thanks again.”

           “No problem.” Sofia replied, running off to greet the other guests.

           You had almost made it over to the table when a loud voice practically yelled at Cedric.

“Cedric! There you are old buddy!”

           Cedric’s shoulders stiffened again.

“Hello, Jonathan.”

           “Who you got with you?”

“This is y/n, she’s my girlfriend.”

           The man looked you over and made you rather uncomfortable.

“Oh my god! She’s beautiful! What the hell did you have to bribe her to come with?”

           Your eyes flung wide open and you gasp.

“What?” You asked in a flat tone.

           “No offense to you ma’am, You’re beautiful! I’m just wondering’ how he got someone like you,” he glanced at Cedric, “with his past and all.”

You shot Jonathan an angry look.

           “For your information, I love this man with all my heart and want to be with him for who he is. If you can’t accept that then you can just kindly leave us alone!” You snapped.

           The man looked shocked.

           “Well, I guess if you’re happy- “

“I am happy. Thank you.”

           “It was nice seeing you again old buddy.”

“A pleasure really.” Cedric smiled, wrapping his arm around you.

           The two of you began walking away. You couldn’t believe how rude he had been. Before you had gotten too far, you were boiling over with anger and wanted that man to know you adored Cedric. Suddenly, you whipped around to make sure he was still watching. You grabbed Cedric by the collar and kissed him firmly on the lips.

           Jonathan looked horrified at you. You gave a sarcastic smile at him and turned back around.

           “Jackass.” You spat out under your breath.

“You have no idea.” Cedric agreed, placing his arm back around you tightly.

           “I truly do love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Cedric.”

           Cedric and you made it to the table and joined the royal family. Later, the two of you along other couples shared a passionate kiss at 12am to welcome the new year.

[madsdefencesquad]

The semi-companion piece to Kevin's one and it's all about Mads, of course. Dedicated to Kevison Nation (every single fudging one of you) and to @flythesail and @penny259 (your comments have me weeping haha 😚). Also on ao3.

A little into Madison Pearson by x (with additions) Summer 2026

I first met Madison Pearson a year ago at George Clooney’s 65th birthday celebrations in Perthshire, Scotland in a fashion closer to that of long-travelled friends who haven’t seen each other in years than that of complete strangers who just so happened to enjoy the same foodie indulgence (bacon-wrapped dates, anyone?). Despite the grandeur of the guests present at the lavish affair – politicians, laureates, philanthropists and A-list celebrities (including her own husband actor Kevin Pearson) – Madison Pearson had the kind of invigorating energy that just drew absolutely anyone in.

Perhaps it was the enchanting mix of contained excitement and understated class she exuded that will warm you upon beholding up close, or perhaps it was the charm of a more loquacious woman of California mixed with the rare intelligence of a world-traveller. Either way, despite the taxing social waltz her husband took her throughout the night bumping elbows with the elites, Madison was one of those people who truly left a lasting impression.

Squeezed next to her in the back of a cab, Madison is head-to-toe in Temperley London x Axel Arigato (vintage-inspired nautical jumpsuit and platform suedes) en route to a baking class where her five-year-old twins Nick and Franny are waiting for her to join them along with their father.

“I was supposed to get changed,” she says, lamenting on her attire worn for a meeting with some West Chester development executives that’s perhaps too luxurious for an afternoon of mixing flour and butter and sugar. “But you have to make at least a bit of an impression, right?”

Madison has been the powerhouse head honcho of the Pearson family business, Big Three Homes, since its establishment three years prior. With a solid background in business management and a surefooted ability to navigate the mores of an ever-changing property development landscape, it was no question that Madison would rise up to the challenge of breaking into the market with a business model founded on family, philanthropy and sustainability.

Despite growing up largely independent without people close enough to call family, Madison has also found the means to speak about her experiences in an effort to encourage and give hope to the younger generation of girls and young women who may be going through an ongoing battle between themselves and their self-worth.

“I never felt enough,” she says of the origins of her battle with her eating disorder that began when she was still in middle school. “I look at Franny and she’s so small and carefree and I want to give her everything I never had, but I know that even that won’t be enough unless she herself realises how worthy she is of all the good and all the love that she deserves.”

We pull up outside the baking studio and she brightens at spotting her husband and twins’ silhouettes behind the frosted glass windows. Nick and Franny almost topple over their stools as they rush to overwhelm their mother while their father scrambles to keep his heart rate down—a close call with their foreheads hitting the edge of the marble benches as they got down will just about do it.

Even with her petite frame, Madison carries the twins like she’s just holding a bag of groceries. Unsurprisingly, both Nick and Franny are as enamoured of their mother as she is of them and are on the verge of complaining when put down just as Kevin, grinning ear to ear, envelops Madison in his huge arms—to be fair, he’s always been quite remarkably chiselled but the Tom Ford sweater and those tailored jeans (chosen by his wife “of course” as Kevin credits) is a different level altogether. He leans down to give her a kiss.

Back in Perthshire a year ago at the Clooney extravaganza, I caught up with the married couple the day after the festivities over a traditional Scottish breakfast as we overlooked the highlands of the Gleneagles.

Perhaps unlike the Clooneys, who were still entertaining their guests from all over world, the Pearsons were much more relaxed within their own family bubble. Having just celebrated Kevin’s twin sister’s wedding three days prior with close family and friends, the pair was grateful to spend some quality time with each other and their twins without the need to be anything but present.

From my perch, Kevin and Madison were the kind of couple that were very much “old souls”. They held an affection for each other that is rooted from sincere fondness and adoration for each other—they converse like deep friends and trade wits like secret lovers. And despite the media attention of the adorable moments shared online (often by the social-savvy actor), Madison is uncompromising when it comes to the privacy of their children.

While the twins dipped in and out of the table pilfering scones or taking over their mother’s green juice, neither one of their parents were the least bit bothered by the constant attention they need to provide such a rumbunctious pair.

“They’re so funny,” Kevin said, a careful eye on little Nick who was staring at the whipped cream on his tiny finger like he was contemplating on wiping it on his dad’s face.

I do recall having a good laugh when I accompanied the family on a tour of a nearby 17th century castle and little Franny, a copy-and-paste of her mother, pointed at a wood-cut table decoration of what looked to be intertwined lovers and confidently yelled, “That’s mommy and daddy!”

The fierce mama bear of the Pearson household of four (Madison sometimes calls her husband “kid number three, but don’t tell him that or he’ll get ideas of trying for another!”), remarks that forging her own path away from her husband’s spotlight had been remarkably easy, and she gives much of the credit to the rest of the Pearson clan who all treasure family more than anything.

Even with the notoriety of her brother-in-law, rising political star Randall Pearson, who currently serves in the Philadelphia municipality and is on track for a career in congress, Madison says that quality time to rest and recuperate is a must.

“[My sisters-in-law] and I have a girls weekend every other month when we can where we literally book ourselves a gorgeous Airbnb and just glamp down. I’m talking sleep-ins, endless mimosas, spa sessions… you name it! It’s the kind of getaway that [our husbands] get really jealous for.”

And upon being reminded, Kevin, now sporting Franny’s tiny chef’s hat, shakes his head at his wife conspicuously as if in reprimand that he most definitely should be included in the gals’ next glamping session despite him being, well, not a gal.

While Nick proudly counts five of about a thousand sprinkles that are scattered on his side of the bench, Madison congratulates him with a warmth and pride that is infectious enough to make you think that she’s proud of you too. And despite her husband’s very obvious possessiveness over her—you could count only one occasion where the actor is not at arm’s length from her—when Madison focuses her attention on you, it’s not difficult to believe that this powerhouse woman could truly do absolutely anything.

“She is that and more,” Kevin says about his wife. “Sometimes I can’t believe that this is my life. Our life! Like, she’s mywife, and these two are our kids. It’s just wild! I’m grateful, just grateful.”

Despite the doubts and fear that had been Madison’s constant companions for most of her life and especially going into adulthood, there is a fierce resilience in her that she could only credit her dear grandmother Frances—her own daughter having been named after her.

“She always believed in me,” she recalls, an eye on the twins squatting by the oven watching their creations rise. Despite the deep grief and loss that are quite intimately shared by the married couple, Madison says that it has only made them more resolute in loving their children and each other as best as they possible can every day.

“You just don’t know when it’s your time,” she says. “So, Kev and I make sure that there are no ‘next times’ when it comes to our family.”

When I had asked Madison about Big Three Homes back in Scotland, she squealed at the origin story of its founding, which started with Kevin’s late father Jack Pearson having asked his wife Rebecca to start the business together as partners.

Although Jack’s tragic and unexpected passing put an indefinite hold to this dream, its fulfilment through his son Kevin and through Madison is a testament to the kind of legacy that Jack Pearson had begun through his kids.

“I mean, it started off as more of a passion project for Kev,” Madison says. “But we knew it was always going to be something really special. Especially because his first project was the house that Jack had wanted to build for his mom. And when Kevin had this wonderful idea of bringing the family together to start the business and he asked me to be a part of it, how could I have said no!”

Kevin makes a point to say though that even if the idea of Big Three Homes originally came from his parents, its fulfilment is as much a part of his and Madison’s own story as it is his parents’. And choosing to have Madison work alongside him wasn’t just the best choice (given how much of a boss she is), but it was the only choice he ever wanted or considered.

“I know this is cliché, but I can’t stand not being with her,” Kevin says. “I made a point of this when our twins were born, and I meant it!”

Madison and the family split their time between California and Pennsylvania both for Kevin’s work and for the business, but nowadays, it’s more of an 80-20 split in favour of the east coast.

When asked about a career path carved away from her hometown in California, Madison says fondly, “It surprises a lot of people when I say this but I’m actually an east coast girl.”

This fun fact translates quite well in Madison’s day to day. She could turn any conversation into an erudite discussion, and she will utterly beguile you with her knowledge of books and literature—her constant companions when she can sneak away to her own personal Taj Mahal, a stunning Japanese garden in the backyard of their Pennsylvania home which Kevin built especially for her.

As the Pearsons continue to make a splash in the world of construction, politics, arts and entertainment—a rare mix indeed for a family in the spotlight—Madison is determined to continue writing a story with her husband and her children that she never had growing up.

With the twins happily destroying their creations by the mouthfuls, Madison promises that another visit is a must and perhaps this time, she can show us a collection of Kevin’s baby photos coupled with her own personal commentary to boot.

And who would say no to that.

[2manyfandoms2count]

I love you (not) - Chapter 8

Somehow, this went over the 2k words mark. No wonder I'm running late on @marichatmay now. Oops? (I guess I just really like writing cooking scenes)

Hope you enjoy!

First | Previous | AO3 | Next

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Chapter 8: In which the kids think about kissing each other a lot, but it's still too early

Chat Noir’s heart was heavy as he made his way towards Marinette’s place.

He knew that his decision to break up with her was the right one; he’d kept up the charade long enough, and he wasn’t comfortable with the fact that she was reaching out for him through Ladybug. They’d undeniably spent some nice moments together, the memory of which he cherished dearly, but he was afraid that Marinette was getting too confident about the strength of their relationship (and the fact that he found himself thinking about her a lot hadn’t been an argument in favour of not playing along a little longer).

His already cloudy mood had further been dampened by the really sucky day he’d had. His father had come up with yet another fashion shoot, which had prevented him from attending the Kitty Section rehearsal he’d been looking forward to all week. Then, Lila had managed to get them paired up for a History project, which he wouldn’t have minded too much had it not been for the fact that she’d bragged all morning about a trip to New York she’d be making the week they were supposed to work on the task, meaning that he’d have to do all the work himself. Finally, to top everything off, an Akuma had interrupted the only free period he had for the rest of the week; it had been nice to see Ladybug, but he wished he’d used the time to collect his thoughts and rehearse what he’d say to Marinette.

He landed on her balcony with a loud thump, and knocked on her skylight.

“Just a minute!” she called out, and he heard her rifle around her room before running up her ladder and opening her skylight.

“Hi,” she beamed, slightly flushed and breathless, as she ushered him in.

He felt his heart clench in his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was better that she seemed in a great mood, but he didn’t have time to ponder on the topic too much; she tugged him down the stairs, and all but pushed him on her chaise, before reverently presenting him with a wrapped package.

“Happy birthday, kitty.” She bit her lip, anxiously waiting for him to open it.

Chat Noir toyed with it. He’d been so busy in the past week that his lie about his birthday had completely slipped his mind. He found himself in a difficult situation. Either he could come clean to her about his intentions, and apologise about everything he’d put her through, or… He could open Marinette’s present. Which, knowing her, would be very thoughtful and amazing. She looked very excited about it.

The temptation was too great.

“You remembered!” He gave her a small smile as his claws gently tore through the tape, and found himself with a neatly folded knitted, black product on his knees. He got up and held it out before him; he had to lift it for it not to drag on the floor, it was so long. She hadn’t just seen something that made her think about him. She must have spent ages working on it. For him .

The bright green paw in the middle, associated with the matching cotton sheet that lined the blanket left little doubt as to that fact.

Marinette’s smile falling and her rambling snapped him out from his silent admiration of the gift. He engulfed her in a hug, holding her close to compensate for his speechlessness.

“It’s purr-fect, Princess,” he croaked, letting go of her and clutching the blanket again. “I mean, look at this stitching; how did you manage to get it so regular? And this yarn…” He purred as he rubbed it against his cheek. “It’s so soft.”

“Well, you deserve something that isn’t scratchy,” Marinette giggled.

“But you didn’t have to go so hard on this! This could almost be… A cape!” He wrapped it around his shoulders, holding its two top corners with one hand, and bowed before her. “Your knight at your service, Princess.” He took her hand and kissed it with a wink, before immediately standing up and wrapping it around him differently, therefore missing Marinette’s tension and flush. “It works as a toga, too!”

“A very historically accurate one at that,” Marinette snorted.

“Hey, you don’t know what my predecessors wore.” He crossed his arms over his chest. The top of his makeshift toga fell over them. Marinette grabbed a couple of safety pins and moved closer to him to secure it back.

“Yes, you’re right. I’m utterly ignorant when it comes to past Miraculous wielders,” she said as she did so. “Mind teaching me about them?” She looked up at him. She was very close, for the second time in the evening, her eyes glinting mischievously in the almost half-light.

His breath hitched as the thought that he’d only have to lean in a tiny bit to kiss her curious smile off her lips crossed his mind.

His stomach rumbled, then, and he jumped back, feeling his cheeks redden. He was about to use it as an excuse to leave when he noticed the colours had drained from Marinette’s face.

“I’m so sorry Chat! I forgot to make you some macarons!” She gasped.

He almost laughed at how cute she was, but smiled tenderly instead, and held her shoulders. “Marinette, you made me a full blanket yourself in one week. I’m good without the macarons.”

“But you don’t have a birthday cake, and you’re hungry, and ugh, how could I forget...” She rubbed her eyes frustratedly.

His stomach manifested itself again, proving her point. With all his interruptions, he wasn’t sure he’d eaten more than an apple since breakfast. He really should be going to right that wrong.

“Okay, that settles it.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her trap door. He quickly stepped out of the blanket and tossed it back on her chaise; it wasn't very practical to walk in. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she started to open it. “My parents are sleeping, I think, so we’ll go down to the bakery kitchen. We’ll need to be quiet, though.”

“Okay,” he whispered back.

They cautiously sneaked down the stairs, stopping at any floorboard creak, hearts racing as they listened for any movement. They remained silent even after Marinette had carefully closed the front door of the apartment behind them, holding each other’s hand tightly, as if the stakes were much higher than Chat being sent home and Marinette to bed if they were discovered.

“It’s a bit late to make macarons, but how do you feel about chouquettes?” Marinette hid a sly grin as she turned the light on in the kitchen. She knew exactly what he thought about them.

“That seems like an excellent option.” Chat’s eyes lit up hungrily.

“Good. Could you turn on the oven? 250°C.” She indicated, while she took out the ingredients.

“Oui, Chef.” He executed. “What next?”

“If you could measure out 250mL of milk, then pour it in this saucepan,” she handed him a carton of milk and a measuring jug, before putting the saucepan on a hob and adding other ingredients to it. He followed her instructions, then, seeing as there was barely any left in the container, chugged the remainder, before sighing contently and throwing the carton over his shoulder, without looking. It landed straight in the dustbin.

Marinette paused in the middle of cutting the butter, baffled.

“What?” Chat asked when she’d stood there, blinking, for a couple of minutes.

“I’m sorry, what was that ?” She shook her head and waved her knife between him and the dustbin.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t ask if it was alright for me to finish it,” he said sheepishly. “I can buy you another-”

“I’m not talking about that, although maybe I should, because how stereotypical that you, a cat superhero, should drink milk,” she waved his apology away, raking the butter into the pan. “I’m talking about your aim. Do you play basketball?”

“Sometimes.” Chat scratched the back of his head. It wasn’t exactly true. He’d just perfected the art of landing baskets from any angle of his room out of boredom; it’d been his biggest challenge for a while.

“Maybe you should try out for a team or something.” She handed him four eggs, a bowl and a whisk. He started breaking them.

“If my schedule clears up, maybe.” He doubted his father would encourage the idea. He’d repeated that Agreste men were soloists enough times that Adrien sometimes heard it in his dreams; and unlike fencing, basketball was a team sport.

“Oh, right. Of course.” Marinette nodded. She hesitated to probe further; on the one hand, she was curious about what her partner was up to outside of their duties; it was difficult to probe how he was holding up, sometimes. On the other hand, she was afraid of learning too much about him. She decided to change the subject. “Could you gradually add the eggs to this while I mix?”

“Of course!” He cleared his throat. “These really aren’t hard to make, could you write the recipe down for me so I can make them again at home?” This was going to make great patrol snacks. He was sure Ladybug would appreciate them.

“Yep, no problem!” She finished stirring the ingredients together and pulled out a baking tray and two piping bags. She poked around for greaseproof paper while Chat filled the latter with the batter, before remembering that her parents had mentioned that they’d ran out over dinner.

“Hmm, this isn’t the most traditional way, but we’ll put some flour on the tray and then pipe the chouquettes directly on it. Would you mind taking care of that while I get the sugar?”

Chat nodded, grabbing the bag. He started sprinkling the surface, reaching in the packet every so often. It made the flour fly out a little, tickling his nose. He scrunched it, trying to get rid of the sensation, but it was no use.

He turned away from the tray and prepared to sneeze, instinctively putting the hand that still contained flour in front of his nose… Just as Marinette came back next to him.

“Achoo!” White powder flew everywhere, and Marinette jumped back.

“Ew, Chat!” She exclaimed, quickly dusting it off of her.

“I’m so sorry!” His eyes widened and he bit his lower lip, trying to contain his smile at her bewildered face. He had to admit, white hair looked nice on Marinette.

How cute , Marinette thought, before mentally slapping herself. No matter how true the statement was, it wasn’t helping at all. She reached for the packet and threw a fistful of flour at him to distract herself.

“Hey!”

“An eye for an eye!” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Is it really, though? I didn’t do it on purr-pose,” he said as his eyes landed on the flour packet.

Marinette started backing away, seeing exactly where he was going. “Now, now, no need to be rash about this, remember, we still have to cook the chou- eek!” She started running around the kitchen island as Chat sprung into a chase.

“Come back here, you little scoundrel!”

“Chat please! Think about your poor stomach!” She switched direction as Chat did the same.

“It can wait.” He grinned, gracefully leaping over the island.

Marinette squeaked again as she jumped out of his way, but found herself stuck between two shelving units. Chat approached her slowly, his devilish smile getting wider as the distance between them vanished. He pulled a fistful of flour out of the bag, and she felt her heart beat faster in her chest. Not just because of the imminent threat.

“I’m sorry Chat, I shouldn’t have done that…” She trailed off, backing herself further against the wall. “But this is going to make a mess, think about the clean up…” She pleaded.

Chat paused, his fist above her head losing a bit of its contents. She blinked slowly. Cat kisses, he thought. His eyes flickered to her lips. He wondered what it’d be like to kiss her, for real. He dared not go down that route.

“You’re right.” He shook his head, and brought his arm down, releasing the flour he’d been holding in the packet. “If I’m going to make a mess…” He paused, taking a small step back, and Marinette sighed in relief. “Better do it right.” He lifted the packet and emptied it all on her head.

“What the-” Marinette spluttered out, starting to get rid of it. She heard Chat laugh as he watched her, without so much as offering his help.

“Say cheese!” She was suddenly blinded by a flashing light, and her head shot up.

“Sorry, had to immortalise the moment.” Chat grinned, showing her the picture on his baton.

She glowered at him, and he moved out of her reach, just in case she decided to retaliate.

“You can’t be mad at me, I’m the birthday boy!”

She rolled her eyes, the hint of a smile forming on her lips as she finished dusting off most of the flour from her clothes and went to fetch the broom. Little did he know, she couldn’t be mad at him at all, since, A, she supposed that she’d been in the wrong in the first place, and B, it was him . Not that she’d admit it out loud, though. “I guess you’re right. You’d better hurry up making the chouquettes, then, else I’m putting you on broom duty.”

Chat happily complied.

---

As he left Marinette’s house, a full packet of warm Chouquettes in hand (he’d made his choice between it and the blanket), he had to admit to himself that even though he hadn’t accomplished his goal, it didn’t really matter.

There’d be plenty of other opportunities to talk to her, and he couldn’t say no to the opportunity of having fun; they were too rare an occurrence to pass up on.