#Watch this not even be what ‘toddler’ is derived from

[emry-stars-art]

I don’t think I fully realized how funny the word ‘toddler’ is until I’m coming up with a mer equivalent. Baby mers don’t toddle. They probably like… wobble. Little wobbler sharkyards. Just babies

[headphonegrl]

The first summer you and Kylian spent together was when you were toddlers, both teetering on the edge of being able to walk without the help of an enthusiastic adult. There’s always been a great debate between you both about what’s actually a memory and what’s derived from the photos that are treasured by both of your parents and brought out at any given opportunity; you pictured in a tiny green bucket hat and him with so much sunscreen on his nose that it looks like white paint. In the hallway of his childhood home hangs a framed photo of you both clumsily clutching each other's hand, a habit you both developed long before the notion of walking or talking.

The fifth summer was significantly defined by the evening you both decided to turn a wall into a full elaborately drawn landscape complete with flowers amongst the grass and an attempt at an accurately sized sun, all with the help of the crayons Kylian packed in his suitcase amongst his socks. Understandably, you were both punished and spent the rest of that week sulking beside the pool you weren’t allowed to swim in and fishing out insects to nurse them back to health. There was a dramatic departure of a bee you had both formally named ‘Fuzzy’, who flew away gracelessly after being fed water with the end of a leaf; ever since then Kylian has drawn a little bee on the envelope of all your birthday cards.

The ninth summer was so hot that the concrete patio had turned into the equivalent of lava. Nearly all of the time was spent under the shade of a peach tree that belonged to the house you were all staying at; it was far too warm to be in direct sunlight for more than a minute without feeling faint. A planned mission had secured you both garden furniture chairs, stolen from the top of the garden while everyone was preoccupied with making lunch. Most of the mornings were spent picking the best peaches and eating them until your hands went sticky with juice and you’d have to walk up to the kitchen to wash them. Then the afternoons were consumed by taking grainy pixilated pictures on Kylian's new phone he had got in light of the next school year, one of which has been your contact photo for over ten years.

The thirteenth summer you spent together always pops into memory whenever the smell of vodka rears its ugly head again. Neither of you were unlike the rest of the kids your age, both victims of the typical adolescent crime of not knowing limits yet when it comes to drinking. As soon as the hand of the clock hit six in the evening, any alcohol sitting in the door of the fridge would sneakily be poured into mugs and tiptoed up to one of your rooms. On the last Friday of August, you mixed heapings of vodka with way too little apple juice and both ended up lying in a tangled heap of limps on a sun-lounger. Over breakfast the next morning as Kylian cut his toast into tiny pieces, his mother cooed at the picture she uploaded to Facebook of you both cuddled up with all the comments underneath from her friends exclaiming what a cute couple you both were. 

The seventeenth summer ended so quickly that it was almost heart-shattering. The months don’t bid everyone farewell like they used to, as you’re both nearing your twenties they just melt away in a blink. Stubborn as ever you insisted on not having any help with shoving your bags into the back of the car, so all Kylian could do was stare down at his feet and kick pieces of gravel around. A goodbye kiss was pressed towards his temple, and he embarrassingly grabbed onto the side of your top like a silent plea for you to stay a second longer. Watching your car drive away felt like letting go of a balloon and witnessing it float further and further until it looks like a tiny dot of ink on a page. When he’d finally been dragged back into the house, his little brother offers him the last chocolate bar as if to send him his condolences. 

The twenty-first summer you spent together was when Kylian finally kissed you. The lights under the surface of the pool were reflecting off your face and there were little droplets of water in your eyelashes. You tasted of chlorine and that coconut lip balm you still lend him sometimes if he asks nicely. Probably due to all the romantic films he had consumed throughout his life, part of him believed that after a moment like that something unbearably dramatic would happen; that maybe the world would implode whether it went well or otherwise. Though slipping into this kind of affection felt incredibly safe and comforting, like falling into a blanket after a long day or hugging a childhood teddy. After all, Kylian had been holding your hand before he could even talk or eat from a spoon; he was born loving you. He loved you even before he knew what love was like. 

[quitealotofsodapop]

The isekai idea sketches, ignore how miserable the guy looks and my bad sence of humor

ignore the kobold ask too

Ref.

OC DRAWINGS!?

TYSM!!! <3

I love your Kobold designs - somewhere between dogs and rodents with human characteristics. They likely have very little fur save for those living in places where there's harsh winters.

DnD has them be lizard-like, so I'm wondering if that would translate into them being "mammal-like reptiles" (my main inspo being Cynodonts), having all the physical traits of mammals save for the fact that they lay eggs.

In mythology they could take the form of feline and mustelid animals like martens and "wet-looking cats", basically any creature that could make its home underground. Some old accounts put them at the height of a human four-year old/toddler. Short dudes.

One cool design I've seen is by the amazing @pocketss; who I believe has the best depiction of goblins ever.

Communal and hard-working, they often get looked over or taken advantage of by the other races. They are closest to humans, and will frequently "adopt" themselves into a household - especially if the humans decided to build their home just above a kobold burrow. This led to the perception that they are "house-spirits", depite the fact that they pay rent.

Kobolds are interesting creatures to think about mythology-wise, since they're prevalent all over mainland Europe in someway, and influenced a lot of modern culture. The name for the ore "Cobalt" even derives its name from "Kobold" - the toxic ore's effect blamed on magic. Now I'm thinking they would have a preference for deep blues.

One old phrase; "laugh like a kobold" means to laugh openly and heartily. Which makes me think of this photo of a pair of mole;

And SEKAI, MY BOY!!

That feel when you get tossed into a fantasy setting but you got cerebral palsy and spinal bifida, and the demon you tried to make a deal with is now stuck in the inactive parts of your brain and wants to rip the world apart.

Sekai is pissed. He misses everything to do with living in a modern metropolis. He misses snacks he didn't even care about. He misses bathrooms with toilet paper. His shitty futon. Watching tv. Public transport.

Once he finds what asshole caused him to be here, he's punching him.

I love how you've drawn his baggy clothing and his messy hair. Not one for personal grooming he is. The way his clothes bows to his form is so cool. My dude still has the backpack he had on when he got isekai-d on the subway.

And Wormwood extending out of him like branches is such an amazing concept. Wormwood is somewhere between a nature spirit and a symbiote - all goopy on his own, but when anchored becomes something "else".

if Sekai's life ever gets truly threatened and Wormwood is forced to "take the reins"; they would transform into something that don't look natural to anyone.

Other Character: "What in the gods name is that!?" Sekai, transformed: "Sorry, I got a parasite."

I have so many thoughts about fantasy and how someone who "very much doesn't want to be there* would deal with it.

[hisui555]

Hazbin Hotel thoughts : Foils 5

Masterpost here

Been a little while, I got myself into some RP for the first time ever. Managed to burn Lucifer's tower down on the first day while being a litteral little gremlin from the dumpsters. That sums it up pretty well.

Oh, and it's the first time I've RP-ed ever.

Anyway, for your inane Foils rambling of the day, my dumb brain cooked up a weird one : Adam (and Exorcists) VS Hell. Obvious, I know, but let's get more into depth about it, shall we ?

So to call Adam an obnoxious psychotic fratbro with all the emotional development of a bratty toddler would be kind of an understatement. Which in itself is an understatement too, to Inception levels. Adam is the First Man, one of the two oldest existing humans alive, turned angel to everyone's bafflement as the very first human soul in Heaven, and given the mystery that looms in the background of the show, it's yet to be seen just how in the bloody world he managed that. From the beginning, he's someone trying to impose his will on someone else, in his case Lilith, who made the utterly sacrilegious decision to stand up for herself and be an independent, emancipated person with boundaries to respect. I know, right ? Crazy.

And given how he reacts to Lucifer's taunting (if this short king really did score the two, it'll be hilarious), Golden KFC-man is tryharding to compensate. But he's also endearing in his brattiness, in his own way, leaning into it so heavily he'd topple Pisa, that he crosses back into funny, despite the genocidal tendencies (which for their part are played for all the horror necessary). And this... is kinda reminiscent of Hell in the show : it's a sordid, horrible place, but a good bucket of dark laughs are derived from it because of how horrible it is. Adam even admits to Charlie that he "likes the vibe", but prides himself on being in Heaven when he clearly didn't deserved any of it.

His own physical appearance, past the gold-blue-white color palette, has horns and shark teeth for the helmet, spikes for the rocker imagery - that, in passing, is often associated with demons and Hell too - and his color scheme dives down to dark blue in the last episode, when ready for battle. While he does look like the most average human ever underneath, it's quite interesting to see that Adam with a color swap and changing nothing else would fit right at home in Hell. Same thing for the Exorcists when in uniform : monochrome, outright more creepy looking than most demons, they actually look like classic demons (minus the tails) unlike the creative diversity of physionomies in Hell, that Heaven mirrors with its own twist on it.

It's kinda like watching a clichéd stereotype costume versus the real thing : Heaven is so out of touch with what's going on below that the Exorcists end up being a mockery of what they mass-hunt, for extra petty points (kinda reminds of what Native Americans went through. Yep. Not a happy thought). And they are just as bloodthirsty, if not more, than the demons themselves (giving you a hard sideglance, Lute), to the point of fanaticism - something that could actually be seen in HELL. Let's repeat, this is their whole activity that shows up once per year, and let's speculate that they do some training, but outside of that ? Plus, they're so confident in themselves that their fighting tactic looks more like "stick weapon into demon and move onto the next" than anything advanced, and didn't see it coming that their own weapons can perma-disconnect them from god's Wi-fi. This is suicidal overconfidence right there - again, something better seen in Hell.

Which makes it very interesting if you put Adam VS Charlie from a virtues and sins point of view : Charlie the Hellborn demon, daughter of Lucifer (who is the embodiment of a Sin himself, namely Pride), checks all virtues while Adam checks all capital sins :

He's wrathful and a revenge-seeker, hating being dismissed or put into question (seething with rage when Charlie and Emily call him indirectly out on his behavior, along Lute), while she's kind and patient, only calling onto anger in rightful situations.

He's often seen stuffing his face with food (ribs) and drinks on various photos and in person, and has a noticeable gut - something Lucifer remarks on that he "kinda let himself go". Charlie is all down for a good drink after a hard day of work, and while Husk mentions that she can get drunk to the point of spouting insecurities, it doesn't happen often and she knows that overindulging is bad. She also makes efforts to get rid of Angel's stash of drugs.

Talking about Adam's libido would be like trying to barge into open doors : he jumps on whoever he wants and even throws a tantrum when someone has no interest in him, like a certain "Virtue chick". He constantly makes crass remarks, finds Charlie and Vaggie's relationship "hot as fuck though" and basically his moral compass has a dick-shaped arrow. Charlie practices temperance and advocates the healthier parts of chastity, since losing oneself into lust isn't a good thing in the long run, but she also seems to lead a happy intimate life with her girlfriend.

The lust thing also ties about Adam's envy issues : Lucifer literally out bow-chicka-wow-wowed him, his first wife left, and Adam is overcompensating hard, pun unintended. Whatever others have or do, he'll want better or do better. He's in for his own comfort and fun, and whenever there's a threat of something better he doesn't have, he wants it. He HAS to be on top, or else the world might as well stop functioning, and is seen seeking Sera's approval. He'll try to sabotage everything out of pettiness, just like he outed Vaggie's true identity to Charlie, because the latter pointed out the truth. Charlie, on her side, is selfless, generous and genuinely wanting to help out, no matter the sometimes litteral cost. She took in Angel and Pentious, offered them a chance to be better, and doesn't resent them for their faults. For someone born as a Princess, she'd rather be addressed as a commoner and hates using her title to force things ("But that's so meaaaan !").

Adam is a selfish bastard that's all take and no give, hinted at his first rejection with Lilith. He thinks that, as the First Man, he's entitled to everything and should be given whatever he wants immediately. Charlie is very much the opposite, even being a bit too much give and almost no take.

Laziness ? Well, goes right in hand with letting himself go. Outside of the Exterminations, he barely does anything, and when he does, he makes it all about him. He's sitting on his own laurels due to the "achievement" of being the first human soul in Heaven, and hasn't bothered adapting his behavior any bit since. Charlie on her own side is diligent, committing to her wishes and dreams to save Sinners and redempt them that she's literally outside during (or right after) an Extermination, as seen when she meets Vaggie. She's also no stranger to pulling all-nighters and go through whole boards of plans to make it work.

And finally, pride. Oh boy saying that Adam is prideful is like stating that the universe is big. His first meeting with Charlie should tell you all you need to know. He's self-entitled, a pure breed of absolute self-centered jackass, and needs to have the spotlight on him or else he'll combust. Something not going his way, as seen when he gets his "original ass" trounced by Lucifer ? He goes for a balls-out tantrum, saying that people should worship him since "all of humanity came from these fucking nuts !" Compare Charlie who's too meek to truly put her foot down when only for herself (for friends she'll do it just fine) and hates to use her status as Princess of Hell. Whenever she gains confidence, it's never in a self-centered way : Ready For This has her asking "if you'll permit me" to others for the leader role, wanting to face the threat together with her army, on equal grounds. Even against Adam she's holding back (as hinted when tapping into more power when stopping him from landing a sneak attack on her dad), and is never bragging about her abilities.

So, in the end, what do we have ? A very flawed First Man (who is an outright villain) looking very close to a demon, versus a way more humane actual demon Princess. Which raises the question : what makes a bad person, and a good person ? As seen with Helluva Boss, so far outside of Mammon all of the seen Sins are very decent people that do indulge in vice, but know the limits and only do it with the ones that can handle it : Beelzebub encourages overindulgence and gluttony for its own sake, not escapism or self-destruction. Asmodeus is very vocally against forced lust, and under the façade also doesn't mind romance. Lucifer himself is very creative and has done astounishing feats, flaunting his power in Hell's Greatest Dad, but while he's low on self-worth and confidence after millenia of seeing only the worst, also teaches his daughter to stand up for herself ("You don't take shit from other demons.") AND is willing to use said power to help.

Bottom line : they don't harm others with it. And, ain't that kinda the whole thing ? Adam literally slaughter ex-humans, his own kind, out of twisted amusement, and hurts everyone around him to come out on top. Charlie is mindful and willing to help, while not forgetting herself in the process (more or less). Adam is clearly going overboard on all his vices while Charlie, who does have some too (drinking to the point of being actually drunk), is more balanced.

What makes one a jackass ? BEING a jackass. Nothing else.

Welp, this one is kinda the odd one out, dunno if I'll have more like that one but I hope you had fun.

Again, Masterpost here.

[stormtodoroki]

Love Sparks Part Two

It’s finally here, the continuation of Love Sparks. It’s been waiting awhile to be proofed and edited before posting. I tried a new POV for Part Two and hope its not too confusing for anyone. My asks are open for any My Hero needs as I have some stories lined up for the months of June and July, ask away fellow readers. If you are still waiting for an ask to be answered it may already be in the list of stories I have lined up, if not feel free to ask. 

Warnings: Use of strong language

Word Count: 2,553

It’s been a few weeks since the students took their entrance exams and they were eager to see if they’d be getting an acceptance or rejection letter soon. Denki had been texting F/N ever since their little ice cream hangout after taking the exam. F/N didn’t mind of course, after all the two of them were soulmates, and they needed to hang out more and get to know each other. So when Denki had sent them a cryptic text, which took about ten minutes to decipher, telling F/N to get over to his house they of course grew worried and rushed there as fast as humanely possible. When F/N arrived the door quickly swung open, they were pulled in by the collar of their shirt and the door slammed shut behind the two.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

F/N glared at the blonde as he wore a smirk on his face, still wearing his pajamas and he pulled his soulmate in for a hug and pat their head happily.

“So F/N, did you get anything in the mail from U.A. yet?”

“Denki, you know damn well as I do that I would have told you the minute something came in the mail. Now, why are you bringing this up?”

The blonde looked at them with a coy smile and merely shrugged his shoulders as he slightly swayed his body back and forth as if he hadn’t a clue what he was talking about, even though he was the one who had brought it up.

“Denki I swear to god if you don’t explain yourself right now I will kick you so hard you won’t be able to see your future.”

This caused Denki to send a glare to F/N, the poor boy not wanting to get kicked, rubbed the back of his neck and laughed shyly before beginning to pull something out of his pocket.

“Well you see F/N, I received something in the mail today and I'm a bit nervous about opening it alone. Well, you see, I was curious if you had also received something in the mail today and I don't know… maybe you would like, I don't know? Maybe we want to open our mail together?”

F/N smiled shyly and let out a soft laugh before eyeing the parcel in Denki’s hand.

“No, I did not receive anything in the mail today. Then again I also left the house before the mailman had arrived so there is a possibility that I have gotten a package in the mail. I'm just not home to receive it, because of a certain blonde sending me cryptic texts. Maybe if you were to change your clothes into something a little bit more presentable for the outside world, we could go together to my place and see if I received anything in the mail. And perchance that if I do actually have something in the mailbox, that is waiting for me that may or may not be derived from the same location as your mail… I guess we can open it together.”

Denki’s eyes lit up, they sparkled with enthusiasm as he vigorously nodded his head in excitement. He stumbled over his words as he tried to tell F/N that that was a great idea and that he would be right back. The boy ran towards his room not so gracefully as he began tripping over the various items strewn about the room, he muttered curses as he quickly got changed and ran back to the main room where F/N was patiently waiting with a smirk on their face as they watched Denki.

While waiting for Denki to come back down F/N looked around the family room at the pictures strewn about, a good chunk of them were of Denki as a baby which F/N thought was adorable. But their favorite had to be the one of Denki as a toddler in a swimming pool using his quirk and popping his pool floaties, his little face showed pure distraught that his floaties were destroyed. F/N couldn’t help but chuckle to themselves, how Denki’s parents caught the moment on camera at the perfect time they’ll never quite know but it definitely will be brought up later. Hearing footsteps F/N moved back to the doorway and stood by the door on their phone only to look up when hearing a cough.

“You could have sat down or something, you know? I guess that I should have said something before I went to change huh?”

F/N shrugged at his words and smiled, before taking in his outfit which consisted of ripped jean shorts, and a black tank top with red lettering to a rock band, F/N didn’t know who they were but expected that they’d be learning who they were somewhere down the road. To compliment his shirt was a black jacket with white stripes on the sleeves, F/N instantly recognized it as the one he wore for the entrance exam.

“Alright, so you’re ready to go? Not forgetting anything? Cause I promise you that once we leave the house we are not turning back. So check now or forever hold your peace.”

After Denki had run back upstairs to grab his mail the two began their journey to F/N’s house, which Denki was excited yet a bit terrified to go to. Would he meet F/N’s parents? Would they approve of him? He had so many things running through his brain that he didn’t notice that F/N had stopped walking and stood on their front steps. Denki had fallen over the steps and landed on his butt in the garden that was next to them. F/N quickly helped him up and sighed deeply before groaning.

“I really hope that it's not noticeable when they get home, my uncle, he takes great pride in his garden and keeps telling us every day how amazing the flowers are coming in and how he wished there was a contest so he could get a ribbon.”

Denki thanked them for helping him get up and the two of them entered the house, immediately tiny footsteps were running towards the duo and an angry mewling, F/N braced themselves which left Denki confused but it soon melted away when a small fluffy black cat ran past them. Just seconds later a small human ran, well tried to run after the cat but they bumped into F/N.

“F/Nn! You home! I misseded yous! Dun leaves me agains, peas?”

F/N chuckled before picking up the toddler and hugging him, smiling at Denki as they introduced their sibling.

“Denki, this is my little brother, Beau, he’s three and apparently when I'm not home he terrorizes the cats. Beau where are the other cats?”

It was only then that he realized his older sibling came home with someone else, someone new. With a grin plastered upon his face, Beau jumped out of F/N’s arms grabbed Denki’s hand which he had foolishly left dangling on his sides and pulled the unsuspecting teenager away while yelling. “New friend! New friend!” F/N followed from behind with a chuckle before deciding to let Denki watch their brother while making sure there was a spot to open their mail without interruption.

Sitting on the couch and nerves coursing through F/N they took a breath and slowly opened the envelope, ignoring the thick packet of papers they grabbed a small disc and started to pull it out when Denki grabbed their shoulder.

“Hope you’re not trying to see your results without me. I really want to see if my soulmate is in the same class as me or not. Plus I want to open ours together, so can we open them together?”

“How about we do one at a time? If we both go at the same time the voices or whatever are going to merge together and I don't know how we’ll be able to understand what's being said.”

Denki agreed seeing that F/N was right, so he allowed his soulmate to open theirs first, almost swearing when he saw a yellow bag wiggle up and a tired man pop out of it.

“Ugh, let's just get this over with so I can go back to sleep… L/N F/N, I have the results of your exam with me and I must say… you passed.”

A tired smile adorned his face as he walked, more like shuffled, over to a screen with their name and points.

“You came in first place with a grand total of 78 points, 32 of which were Rescue points and the other 46 were Villain points. You will be placed in Class 1A, enclosed in your envelope is paperwork you will need to fill out and send in before the start of term which is also listed in your packet. Once again congratulations and welcome to U.A. High.”

With that, the screen disappeared back into the disc and F/N felt Denki hug them and yell how proud he was that his soulmate had made it into the hero course and held onto F/N like it was a dream and if he’d let go they’d disappear like it was all just a part of his imagination. F/N smacked Denki causing the boy to let go, but seeing F/N hand over his disc he sighed in nervousness what if he didn’t get put in the same course as his soulmate, or worse what if he failed altogether? Sensing his uneasiness F/N put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and nodded at the disc. Denki tapped it and soon enough it powered on and the number one pro hero appeared in front of the duo.

“Hello there Denki Kaminari! I have here your results of the entrance exam and I believe these will shock you.”

It was silent for a good minute or two and Denki was yelling at the hologram of All Might to just tell him if he got into the Hero Course or not.

“Congratulations are in order young man! You passed with a score of 52 points! Good going young man, we can’t wait to see you in the Hero Course come this upcoming term, inside your envelope you will find everything you need to be prepared. We’ll see you soon and welcome to U.A High!”

Denki jumped up from his spot on the couch screaming about getting accepted and hugged F/N tightly while shouting that they would be in the same class and could watch each other get stronger and help each other train or study. Of course, F/N knew this meant that they’d be the ones helping Denki cause he barely passed the written portion of the exam while they got a near-perfect score.

“F/N we’re home! Did you get your results yet? Please tell us you did, we really hope you passed you deserve it kiddo.”

In walked an older woman and a slightly younger male whom F/N introduced to him as their grandma and uncle on their mother’s side, they mentioned that their mother sent the two siblings to live with them so she could continue her work while the two went to school. F/N decided to wait to tell Denki about how they came here to not only go to a top hero school but also to meet their father, that apparently lived somewhere in Japan. F/N did have a suspicion that their mother might have just wanted to send the two children away and to be free from the burden of raising two children that she didn’t even really want. F/N wouldn’t tell their brother that cause they only learned that through eavesdropping and their mother was on a phone call with somebody with a deep voice that they couldn’t place.F/N smiled at the duo in front of them widely and did a cringeworthy victory pose.

“Heck yeah I passed, I came in first place! I destroyed that test I got so many rescue points! Way more than the villain points that also counted toward our scores. I also think the one teacher is a caterpillar? He was in this yellow puffy thing and just wanted to sleep. But he could also just be one of the proctors of the exam to give out points and the exam results.”

The two adults looked at F/N with a sense of pride and they went over to them and gave F/N the biggest hug possible as they expressed how happy they are and they expect great things to come from their relative, before looking over at Denki.

“Are you a classmate of our dear F/N? I don't believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting I’m Clarise Solis, F/N’s grandmother as mentioned earlier, and the man next to me is their uncle Hiroki. It is so nice to see our F/N making some friends after moving here, we were afraid that we’d have to make arrangements for children your age to come over and socialize. Glad to see that we don’t have to worry about that.”

F/N’s grandmother lead Denki into the kitchen away from the remaining trio and could barely be heard telling Denki stories and asking questions, Beau looked at the two before him and looked over questioningly.

“Uncle Hiro, whys Gamma taking Denki away? I wants to play with him. I like his hair, it's bright and cools. It’s the same colors as All Might and he's cool too! Does he like my hair, its red like End- Ende- Endedevor. But my friends don’t like him, he is a big meanie.”

The duo laughed before their uncle Hiroki  answered Beau, adding in that while Endeavor might not be liked by some people due to his questionable actions, he was still a Pro-Hero who was out on the streets trying to keep them safe from villains that didn’t follow the laws that were in place. After a few more minutes of explaining how the heroes kept them safe every day and how some things weren’t as simple as the three-year-old had believed, Denki and F/N’s grandma returned with some food in which they sat on the tatami mat at the chabudai and began to enjoy the traditional meal together.

It was quite sometime later when it was decided by F/N that Denki needed to get home seeing as he had been at their house for a good portion of the day and still needed to inform his family of his exam results, seeing as he had opened it here with F/N and not at his house. The duo bid their farewells as F/N’s uncle had driven him home, with no doubt in F/N’s mind that poor Denki was about to get interrogated or threatened. The thoughts were soon pushed away though when all F/N could think about was how they couldn’t wait to start school in a couple of months and have Denki in the same class, sharing the three-year journey that was waiting for them.

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 29}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

“It’s not very professional of us to be late to our own party.”

Cassian was sitting on the couch, even as he hollered up the stairs, knowing Nesta could hear him.

“Don’t blame me,” she called back. “I’m not the one who decided to give the toddler a candy cane while he was wearing a white shirt.”

Cassian snorted, looking at the child in question, though he knew she was using Nyx’s last minute wardrobe change as an excuse. Nyx had been downstairs with him for nearly twenty minutes, the candy cane devoured long before that. The dark green sweater he now wore made his blue eyes sparkle and he giggled up at him, grinning. She was still in their bathroom, making herself look absolutely gorgeous, no doubt, but they were short on time.

“People are going to start arriving at seven and it’s six-fifteen now,” he said, glancing at his watch.

“I know, I know, shut up!” she yelled, but even Cassian could hear the amusement in her voice.

“Dada,” Nyx said, walking toward Cassian. “Nums?”

Nums. Cassian assumed it derived from the word yum, which meant that he was hungry. With a sigh, Cassian picked Nyx up and said, “I promise, as soon as we get to the restaurant, we’ll eat. I’m hungry as shit, too.”

“Way to teach the toddler how to curse.” Nesta’s voice rang out from the top of the stairs and Cassian spun around. He whistled as Nesta made her way down the stairs in a red dress and black heels.

Her long, golden-brown hair was down and in loose curls. Her lips were painted red, and green sparkles lined her eyes.

Cassian lifted a brow. “You look festive.”

Nesta chuckled. “Thank Elain. She’s the one that told me I’d better show up looking like Christmas or she’d make me look like Christmas when she got there.”

Cassian laughed, quietly. “Well, I think you look absolutely stunning.”

Nesta smiled as she stopped in front of him. “Thank you.”

They kissed, and Nyx babbled, loudly, letting them know it was time to break it up.

“Alright, alright,” she chuckled, running a hand over his dark hair. “Let’s grab you a snack and we’ll go.”

“I want a snack,” Cassian protested, following her into the kitchen.

She was dropping a handful of goldfish crackers into a zip top bag, and looked at him over a shoulder. “I can’t tell if that was an innuendo or not.”

His eyes traveled down her body, snagging where her tight dress hugged her ample assets, but said, “For once, it wasn’t. Though if you want to sneak off to the store room later…”

Snorting, Nesta sealed the bag up and rolled her eyes. “Absolutely not.” She brushed past them, handing the baggie of crackers to Cassian as she pulled both Nyx’s and her own coats from the closet. “It is Christmas Eve though. Who knows what Santa may bring you when we get home?” She asked with a wink.

Cassian groaned. “You can’t tell me that now. We won’t be home for, like, six hours. Tease.”

“That’s what you love about me,” she muttered, helping Nyx put his coat on.

“There’s a lot of things I love about you,” Cassian promised.

Nesta rolled her eyes, but gave Cassian a kiss, anyways. “Suck up.”

Cassian grinned, and followed Nesta, carrying Nyx to the car.

It was a short drive to the restaurant, and when they arrived, it was already packed. Being Christmas Eve, the place was closed, but that didn’t mean that the place was empty. All of the employees and their families were there, along with Nesta and Cassian’s closest friends - which included Elain, Azriel, and Peresphone. Viviane was there, of course, both with Kallias and per Cassian and Nesta’s invitation. Other than that, their employees and their families filled the room. Considering Nesta had only begun with a few servers, seeing the extended family that they had built brought Cassian more joy than he could express.

Once they entered the restaurant, Nyx was instantly reaching for Viv. Cassian spotted Azriel and Kallias by the bar, and he chose to quickly join them while Nesta joined her sister and niece by the appetizers.

“Everything looks absolutely gorgeous,” Elain said, hugging Nesta, handing a grinning Seph to her.

She snorted. “I can’t even begin to take credit. I hired someone to decorate.”

Rolling her eyes, Elain said, “Well, it all smells amazing, too.”

That, Nesta could take full responsibility for, and she would. One of the large banquet tables she used for catering was stretched between two massive Christmas trees, and every festive holiday food that anyone could possibly want was piled on top. She was most proud of the beautifully decorated sugar cookies that were on every flat surface she could sit a plate on.

Looking around, she saw Nyx was already nibbling on one and she couldn’t stop her chuckle.

“You all seem to be doing well,” Elain noted.

Nesta raised a brow, looking from Seph to Elain. “Pardon?”

“You, Cass, Nyx…” Elain shrugged, with a grin. “You all seem to be doing well.”

Nesta looked over at the bar, where Nyx’s face was covered in the icing from the sugar cookie and Cassian was laughing at something that Kallias or Azriel had said. She laughed, softly. “Yeah, we are.”

Elain took Nesta’s hand, and when Nesta met her sister’s eyes, she smiled. “I’m glad.”

“No, no, no,” Nesta chastised. “We aren’t getting sappy.”

Elain gasped. “I’m not getting sappy.”

Nesta chuckled. “Yeah, okay.” She looked back over to Cassian. He was already looking at her. He smiled. She blushed, looking away.

“Honestly,” Elain began, taking Peresphone’s hand. “Tell me.”

Nesta sighed, laughing quietly. “I don’t know. Everything is going…really well. I don’t know. I… I feel like we’re a family. Cass is a great dad, and Nyx adores him. And, he calls me mama now. Which makes me feel amazing, even though I’m not sure that it should. It’s complicated, you know? I know I’m not his mom, and Cassian knows that he’s not his dad, but… We’ve filled those roles. We’ve filled those roles and we love those roles, El. But, it sucks, because...we’re not his mom and dad.”

Elain looked at Nesta for a long moment before taking her sister’s hand. “Do you love that child?”

Nesta blinked. “Of course-.”

“Does Cass love that child?”

Nesta took a deep breath. “Of course he does.”

“Then you are his parents,” Elain said, carefully. “No, it’s not biologically, and Feyre and Rhys will always be his mom and dad…but you two are their stand-ins. You’re his mom, Nes. Cass is his dad. By blood? No. But, by love? You’re what he has, and he is blessed because of it.”

Nesta told herself not to get too emotional, but she had been having a hard time with that lately. It was hard not to get too emotional when it felt like everything was going right.

Nesta didn’t believe in perfection.

But, she felt like her life - her life with Cassian and Nyx - was pretty damn close to perfection.

“I like seeing that look in your eyes,” Elain said, quietly.

Nesta snapped back to reality, raising a brow at her sister. “What look?”

“Happiness,” Elain said, simply. She nodded to Cassian. “Things are going well with him, I take it?”

Nesta leaned across the table. “Are you...asking me about what goes on in the bedroom?” She gasped. “Elain.”

“What?” She said, sipping from her wine glass. “He’s only been pining after you for nearly six years. I’d bet a man who’s been doing that would have some plans when he finally had his chance to—.”

“There’s my girl,” Azriel said, smiling as Seph saw her daddy approach and started giggling.

“I should go mingle,” Nesta said, even as Elain gave her a look that said This conversation is far from over. “You guys are still coming over for lunch tomorrow, right?”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Azriel replied, and Elain nodded in agreement, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Nesta did as she said she would, stopping around the room to see her servers, cooks, managers, bartenders. Along the way, she met their families, their husbands and wives and significant others. Their kids and parents and siblings. Anyone they decided to bring, Nesta welcomed them with a warm smile and kind words.

Cassian did the same, although not for as long, and ended up sitting with Viviane and Kallias, bouncing Nyx on his knee. Nesta couldn’t help but look at him every so often, admiring how handsome he was, admiring how much Nyx admired him.

Just as dinner was ready to be served, Nesta stood in the middle of the restaurant and clanked her fork against her wine glass to get everyone’s attention.

“Thank you all for coming,” Nesta said, smiling as she looked around the room. “This last year has been so incredible. With the addition of our bar, we really skyrocketed, and business has been better than ever before.” A round of applause echoed through the room. “Because of that, I’ve been able to double our staff, which has been incredible. I wanted to have this little party tonight to just show you all how incredibly grateful I am for each and every one of you. So, let’s eat, drink, and celebrate until the clock strikes twelve!”

No one had any complaints about that.

The caterers brought each table a beautiful display of food and Nesta took a seat next to Cassian to enjoy it all.

Everything was delicious and all in attendance made sure Nesta knew they enjoyed every bite. It wasn’t long before the plates were cleared and desserts were brought out. Nyx managed to stay mostly clean, though that was mostly due to Viviane helping feed him, rather than Cassian leaving him to his own devices. Nesta couldn’t help but smile as she watched, especially when Kallias, eyes shining in adoration, brought her hand to his lips. Right next to the diamond sparkling on her ring finger.

He had proposed a few weeks prior, to no one’s surprise but Viviane’s and would be married just after the new year.

After years apart, they swore they knew what they had been missing in their lives, and didn’t want to waste another minute without the other.

Nesta found herself pondering that as she watched Cassian, talking and laughing with Azriel, Nyx already starting to doze off on his shoulder.

Happy. She thought back to Elain’s words. She had never been as happy, as perfectly content in her life, as she was now.

Her restaurant was thriving. She loved what she did, wouldn’t ever want to do anything else, woke up happy to go to work.

Nyx was the light of her life. Watching him grow, learning who he was going to be one day… Being his mama was the greatest gift she’d never expected.

And Cassian… She had found the love of her life, even though he’d been right in front of her the whole time. Kallias and Viv, their time apart hadn’t been intentional. Nesta’s separation from Cassian, that had all been by their own doing. And she wouldn’t let another minute slip by them. She would make sure he knew how much she loved him, for the rest of his life.

As Christmas rolled around at midnight, everyone started to go home. Nesta and Cassian would be soon behind them, considering they still had to put out gifts for Nyx to open in the morning. Nesta couldn’t wait. She knew he was still a little bit too young to understand what was going on, but she was certain his little day would be made, nonetheless.

With a yawn, Cassian came out of the kitchen, Nyx sound asleep in his arms. “Alright. Back door is locked. Trash is taken out. Kitchen is clean.”

“Good,” Nesta said, feeling tired, too. It had been a good night. A long night, but a good night. “Let’s go home and wait for Santa.”

Cassian groaned as he picked up Nyx’s diaper bag and headed for the door. “What if Santa is too tired to bring presents tonight?”

“I don’t think Santa has that option,” Nesta chuckled. “And, if Santa is lucky and does what he’s told, he might have a little surprise under the tree, too.”

Cassian raised a brow as he stepped into the chilly night. “Oh yeah? Tonight? Or, does Santa have to wait until morning, too?”

She rolled her eyes, taking the diaper bag from him and letting him carry Nyx out to the car, before locking the door. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

He winked at her before buckling the sleeping toddler into his carseat and then they were on their way. Before they knew it, they were home, and as soon as they pulled into the driveway, fat, fluffy snowflakes had begun to fall from the sky.

“Looks like you get your white Christmas after all,” Cassian crooned, knowing Nesta had been slightly disappointed it hadn’t snowed before the party tonight.

She sighed as they entered the house. “I hope so.”

Cassian took Nyx upstairs to lay him down, and though they’d joked about Cassian playing Santa all night, Nesta was the one to lay all the presents out underneath the tree. Of course, only she knew what lay in the boxes wrapped in festive paper for Cassian and Nyx, but she saw a few with her name on them.

She resisted the urge to shake each one of them and investigate.

After she pulled a large, rectangular box wrapped in sparkly paper out of the bag, she couldn’t resist the urge any longer. After looking around the living room, she gently shook the box. A throat cleared from the top of the stairs.

Nesta yelped, spinning around from where she sat on the rug in front of the tree. Cassian stood on the top stair, his arms crossed, a brow raised as he chuckled. “And what is it that you think you’re doing?”

“Just…checking things out,” Nesta said, slowly, setting the gift on top of the others as Cassian made his way down the stairs. “He asleep?”

“Drooling, snoring, the whole nine yards,” Cassian said, plopping down next to her on the rug. “We get to eat cookies and drink lots of milk, right?”

Nesta snorted. “I think he’s a little young for that part yet.”

“Damn,” Cassian whistled. “I was looking forward to it.”

Nesta laughed, crawling into Cassian’s lap. “I mean, if you want milk and cookies, by all means, get yourself some milk and cookies.”

His fingers lazily dragged up and down her back, the gesture nothing more than a soothing habit he’d picked up. “Maybe tomorrow. So I can share the cookies with the already energetic toddler.”

They sat on the couch, still in their party finery, and those fingers trailed that path on her back. Her head was tucked under his chin, and after a moment, he breathed, “I’m so excited for tomorrow. For him to wake up and see his presents.”

Nesta’s voice was a sleepy drawl when she responded. “I want him to love Christmas as much as Feyre did.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “He will. We’ll make sure he knows what an important day it is for our family.”

Our family.

The words had become common for them, as they realized that’s exactly what they were.

A family.

*

“MamaDadaMamaDadaMamaDadaMamaDada—.”

Cassian groaned, rolling over to his nightstand, where the baby monitor sat. Nyx was going on and on and on and on, apparently ready to be taken out of his crib.

Cassian blinked, checking his phone.

It was seven in the morning.

It was Christmas.

He was tired, he wouldn’t deny it. Nesta had worn him out the night before - more than once, under the tree, and again in their bed before Cassian passed out.

It wasn’t a day for exhaustion, though. It was a day of celebration and love, which is why Cassian pulled himself up and smacked Nesta on the ass before he climbed out of bed.

“Wake up, Nes. It’s Christmas!”

He was stumbling out of their bedroom before Nesta had even opened her eyes. As he approached the nursery, Nyx’s voice grew louder and louder. The moment he pushed open the door, Nyx was grinning, holding up his arms.

“Merry Christmas, buddy,” Cassian said, chuckling as he picked Nyx up out of his crib. After a diaper change and a switch into his Christmas onesie, Cassian was carrying Nyx down the stairs, yelling for Nesta to hurry up.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she said, yawning as she swept into the hallway.

Presents were obviously pretty high on the priority list, but in the Nazari-Archeron household, only one thing came first:

Breakfast.

Cassian gave Nyx a sippy cup of milk as he turned on the coffee pot and put the cinnamon rolls Nesta had prepared before the party last night into the oven.

He was stirring two spoons of sugar into her coffee when he heard her come into the kitchen.

“Merry Christmas, my handsome, little man,” she said, pressing a kiss to Nyx’s cheek. He giggled and held onto her face, giving her a wet, smacking kiss as well. It was something new he’d picked up and something Nesta adored to no end.

“And Merry Christmas to you,” she said, smiling up at Cassian, wrapping her arms around his neck. She rose up on her toes and kissed him.

“Pretty sure you told me that already, in quite a few ways last night,” he smirked, and she rolled her eyes smacking his chest.

“Eat quick,” Nesta said, sipping from her mug. “Santa came.”

Nyx babbled something as he drank his milk. “Too impatient to see what he brought you?” Cassian asked, sitting at the table, waiting for the cinnamon rolls to be done.

“Don’t act like you’re not,” Nesta grumbled, looking out the back window, where a newly fallen blanket of snow covered the yard.

“You’re going to make us all go outside and build a snowman, aren’t you,” Cassian muttered, as the alarm for the oven went off.

Nesta chuckled, pulling them out and turning the oven off. “Of course, I am. I didn’t buy Nyx that little snowsuit for nothing.”

After a quick bite to eat around the table, they were cuddled up together in the living room, by the tree. Nyx looked up at the strung lights in wonder as Cassian took out the first gift and slid it toward him.

“Go ahead, buddy, the first one is yours,” Cassian said.

Nyx blinked at the box before starting to hit it with his little fists.

Cassian snorted. “Well, at least it’s not breakable.”

They opened Nyx’s presents for him one by one and once he was sufficiently distracted with a brand new set of brightly colored blocks, stacking them up and knocking them down, giggles filling the room, Cassian and Nesta moved onto their own presents.

There were, of course, the generic things that they both expected from each other. Cassian gave her an entire new set of utensils for the kitchen, a wine and cheese subscription box for the year and a cookbook full of desserts he’d seen her eye for more than a few months.

She gave him a set of woodcarving tools, a new pair of boots, and a year-long membership to the new, fancy gym they had just built down the block that he had been eyeing every time they drove past it.

“Thank you,” he smiled. “I love it.”

“Of course,” she said, and kissed him, softly. “Now, let’s go build a snowman!”

“Wait,” Cassian called, even though she was already on her feet, heading toward the staircase. “You forgot one.”

There was no way she could have seen it.

It was tiny, and nearly blended into the tree skirt.

Nesta knew one thing for sure - she hadn’t put that one under the tree last night.

“Nyx, come here,” Cassian said, holding out his hand.

Nyx giggled, picking up his blocks to take with him, as he walked across the rug to Cassian.

Cassian handed him the little box. “Here. Bring mama her present.”

The words alone were so cute that Nesta couldn’t help but smile. She sat on the couch as Nyx waddled up to her, his blocks in one hand, her gift in the other.

“Thank you, buddy,” she said, laughing quietly as Nyx went back to playing with his blocks. Nesta slowly undid the bow on the top of the box, and tore off the wrapping paper.

She was left with a small, black velvet box.

Her heart stopped beating in her chest. She couldn’t breathe, nearly forgot how to move, as she looked at the velvet box in her hand. Her thumb brushed over the soft fabric. “Cassian…”

“Open it, Nes,” he whispered, and she could hear the smile on his face.

She opened the box and fought the quiet gasp as she gazed at the beautiful ring inside.

A brilliant, cushion-cut diamond was nestled in the center of a ring of diamonds, and in the colorful lights of the Christmas tree, it sparkled.

She repeated herself, not quite remembering how to speak. “Cass…”

He gently took the box from her hand and slid from the couch, settling down on one knee.

“I know we haven’t had the most conventional relationship, but who we are, where we came from, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. This past year has simultaneously been the best and worst of my life. I lost my best friend, my entire world got turned upside down, but…” He took her hand in his. “I have the family I never imagined I would. I love Nyx. I can’t imagine a day without him now. Or a single minute without you, Nesta. I love you and I want to spend every day of the rest of my life reminding you of that.”

She was crying.

She didn’t know when the tears had begun, but they were streaming freely down her cheeks.

“Nesta,” he breathed, his voice a ragged mess. “Nesta, will you marry me?”

“Yes.” She had begun saying the word before he had even finished his question. “Yes, Cassian, absolutely, yes.”

Cassian was pulling her toward him, kissing her without a care in the world. She laughed as their lips met, an unworldly amount of joy flooding throughout her body. They kissed, and Nyx laughed, and Cassian slid the ring onto her finger.

His fiancée.

His future wife.

He wasn’t sure how exactly he had gotten here, wasn’t sure how either of them had survived the past year, but somehow, they had. And they’d done it together.

It was a situation that could have damned them, that could have destroyed them both. There had been hard times, but the good far outweighed the bad. Just like he knew the future would as well.

Cassian could face anything, as long as his family was at his side.

[sleepyghostuwu]

What if Chuuya and pm! Dazai got hit with a de-aging ability and turned into toddlers and reader was instructed to take care of them until the effects wore off

Warning: Dazai suicide references

Port Mafia!Dazai and Chuuya as toddlers

- You didn’t agree to this sort of hell. You really didn’t.

- You just watched in despair as your toddlers, Dazai and Chuuya, grappled each other with their tiny fists and legs, yelling curses that no normal child would ever dare to say. (And I say normal because let’s face it: they aren’t normal.)

- How Dazai, a person who can nullify abilities, even ended up in the same state as Chuuya, you didn’t know and didn’t want to know.

- But Mori’s orders are orders. You had no choice but to take the role of a babysitter until the ability’s effects wore off and Double Black reverts back to their normal state. 

- You could barely concentrate on your work because the children’s shrieks are just that loud. 

- Heck, those children aren’t even children. 

- Chuuya seemed to be deriving his childish pleasure from using his ability to throw all sorts of objects at Dazai, who retaliated with unholy vulgarities that I will not repeat. This earned you a lot of concerned stares from your fellow colleagues. 

- You had to rush to the toddlers every five minutes because Dazai was trying to consume random chemical cocktails in an attempt to enter the afterlife earlier. 

- Double Black was causing such a ruckus that even Mori made a complaint about the noise.

- That was the last straw. You dragged Chuuya and Dazai into a spare room and scolded them so fiercely that even Dazai looked terrified. The two toddlers had to apologise to you and each other under your orders. 

- You felt bad for yelling at them, so you brought them out for ice cream, because according to your babysitter’s guide, ice cream fixes everything. 

- Double Black toddlers eating ice cream together was the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen uwu

- Chuuya just looked so happy eating his sundae while Dazai had a tiny blob of chocolate ice cream on his nose owo 

- You just had to take a photo of that moment while it lasted. 

- You had to get them toys from a nearby toy shop because they’re just so persistent and their child-like attitudes made you want to spoil them while you still can. 

- Dazai asked for matching teddy bears with Chuuya (who wants it and doesn’t want it at the same time because of Dazai).

- You took another photo of them beaming brightly at the camera while hugging their teddies.

- When it was bedtime, Dazai stubbornly insisted that Chuuya and he sleep in the same room on the same bed. Even Chuuya agreed to such arrangements. 

- “I thought you didn’t like Dazai, Chuuya.” :0

- “I don’t care! I still want to sleep with him!” >:0 

- You took another photo of them sleeping together peacefully and made a lovely little scrapbook of Double Black in their short-lived childhood.

- The next morning in the office, you were jolted by two shrill screams coming from the spare room Double Black slept in. 

- You and your colleagues were trying your best not to laugh at Dazai and Chuuya, who looked really flustered and mad and were yelling at each other. 

- “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE, CHIBI?!” 

- “WHY THE HELL ARE YOU HERE, BANDAGES?!!” 

- “HOW ARE YOU OLDER THAN ME WHEN YOU STILL ACT LIKE A CHILD, CHUUYA?! I DIDN’T KNOW YOU STILL HUGGED A TEDDY BEAR TO SLEEP!” 

- “OH, SAYS THE ONE WHO OWNS A TEDDY BEAR TOO!!” 

- When Mori called you to his office to ask you about your babysitting experience, you grin and show him your scrapbook filled with photos of Double Black in their toddler state, much to his amusement. 

- When he asked about the scene earlier that morning, your smile spread wider and you wryly glance in the door’s direction, where Chuuya and Dazai’s shouts could still be heard. 

“That wasn’t me, boss. It was all them.” ;)

[ask-sunny-and-moony]

To the 'adults', what was the biggest scare regressed Sun and Moon did to you? It is well known that babies give at least one big scare to their parents at least once.

Freddy

Greetings! This is Freddy. Although Sunny and Moony both seem to derive a fair bit of pleasure from giving the majority of us a scare, the worst one which we have experienced would doubtlessly be the situation which led to them discovering Bonnie. The trash compactor has always been rather dangerous, but the horror of knowing that they had gotten stuck and the inability to have circumvented the situation in general was... I do not believe my syntax trees have the capability of stringing together words to articulate just how horrid the experience was.

I am endlessly grateful to have saved Bonnie, and that all of the damage has been non-fatal. However the agony of holding Gregory as he cried, of knowing my children were harmed or worse... I would never wish that upon even my worst enemies.

I believe I have spoken enough. And so I shall pass it on the the remaining adults in our group.

Bonnie

Fredbear's account is pretty much the same. Worst scare? Definitely realizing that they were down there with me. As for the funniest scare, there was this one time that Moony impulsively shoved some sparkly beads in his mouth. While robots can't really choke, we can get stray pieces lodged between joints, internal mechanisms, all that horrible jazz. I lost my head, I won't lie. He wound up being fine, and I learned that they both were made with the capacity to covert actual food into fuel for their systems. Fascinating to learn, after the fact.

Monty

Y'all know Sun and Moon are my boos. I adore these gremlins, no matter how they feel. But True Fear is watching Moon, in a solidly toddler-esque headspace, manage to hook onto his chord and shoot to the ceiling. Had to run the catwalks and damn near lost my footing when the cable disconnected. Never been so scared in my life - even if the li'l goober gave the cutest laugh at my face afterwards.

Chica

Sunny and Moony, after their newer bodies were made, would sometimes follow me around in the kitchen. I love teaching them baking, and while it gets super messy, it's so rewarding to hear their giggles~ but anyway, this one time, we were making cupcakes, and Moony and Sunny were in their little booster seats. Sunny's a little escape artist, and he managed to undo his buckles before I caught him. Took a tumble like right on his little face. Didn't pop back up, and I thought I was going to die, I panicked so hard. He was fine, but his face plate had to be repaired and his nose was crooked for like a week, poor thing.

Roxy

Raceway accident. They were okay, but I thought the other's were going to kill me.

DJ MusicMan

I don't think I've had a proper scare with them, yet. Barrin' the trash compactor fiasco, none of the scare for the boys have been connected to them bein' Small. Ain't lookin' forward to the day they try it with me. Not exactly the fright type.

[biosblades]

I’m always a little terrified to talk about my personal experience with gender for fear that the transphobes will take it and run with it as an example of how someone can “outgrow” being trans

I certainly don’t consider myself to be cis, but I’m not sure I’d necessarily say I’m trans either. More likely somewhere along the nb spectrum, but I have trouble pinpointing exactly where or finding a perfect label for it

I’m afab. When I was a toddler, my younger brother was born, which was when I learned about the anatomical differences between boys and girls. Friends, I, aged three (3) was seething with jealousy over this literal infant’s genitals. I didn’t know why, I just knew I really really wanted to look like that and it felt so unfair that he got to have a penis and I didn’t. I never told anyone, but that feeling persisted throughout my entire childhood. I’d tape any phallic looking objects I could find to my pelvis, I’d daydream about a fairy godmother turning me into a boy or freaky Friday style switching bodies with any of the boys I knew. This was early childhood, before sexuality was something I was even aware of and before I really understood what misogyny was or the societal advantages these boys had over me. I was just envious the appearance of their physical form, completely oblivious to how the organs even worked or what their function was. And I didn’t dislike being a girl. I embraced my femininity. I did ballet, I liked princesses and dolls and makeup. I wore dresses and skirts, bows and glitter and frills and anything and everything pink. I liked “boy” toys and clothes too. I had collections of trucks and dinosaurs and those monster truck dino heads on all terrain wheels. I could build hot wheels tracks and shoot nerf guns with the best of them. But I didn’t want to be a boy. I played with my brothers and “tomboy” friends, but I was perfectly content with my girly name and pronouns. I had all the girl power shirts and pencil cases and thought nothing of it. I didn’t even dislike my own body per say, I just liked what the boys had going on better.

That all changed with puberty. I was horrified when I saw those images of female development. I wanted nothing to do with it. As soon as the first signs started showing up, my self loathing began. Suddenly all I wore were loose clothes from the boys section. I started wearing boxers because little girls’ underwear was too childish, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of going into the teen girls’ underwear stores. I started hanging out with only boys. Everyone, myself included, thought I was crazily attracted to them. I was obsessed with the way their bodies were responding to puberty. I stared at them and followed them everywhere. I copied their every move, played the same games, watched the same shows and sports, wore the same clothes. I knew I wanted to be them and I was so so jealous of the fact that I was growing up to be hideous with stupid boobs and hips and they were getting muscles and facial hair and were so beautiful in comparison. But compulsive heterosexuality combined with the prevalence of teen girls hating their bodies made it seem normal. Misogyny had become incredibly prevalent in my life, so I thought I was just physically attracted to them and the feeling of envy was derived from the societal privileges they had over me. Those around me have remarked upon that period of my life as being my “pick me” phase.

As I got deeper into adolescence, I learned about the existence of trans people. I’d somehow never realized before then that changing your gender was even an option. And it was a tempting one… my daydreams became focused on the idea that if I could just push through to adulthood, I’d start T and get all the surgeries, undo all the damage puberty had done to my body. I kept lists of names I could go by instead in my diary. I couldn’t bear the idea of growing up to be a woman, but the idea that maybe I didn’t have to gave me hope. I used every ill advised binding strategy in the book and cut my hair short. A stranger “misgendering” me would fuel my confidence for months after the fact.

Then, when the pandemic hit, everyone’s idea of gender shifted. Suddenly, defying gender roles seemed so mainstream. So I started experimenting with painting my nails, wearing makeup, wearing girls’ clothes for the first time since I was 11. And I didn’t mind it. I’d even go as far as to say I liked it. Now that those things didn’t mean, under no uncertain terms, association with womanhood, I found I actually didn’t hate them. As people started erasing the idea that names and things were inextricably tied to gender, I found I didn’t mind my feminine name so much anymore. I could suddenly appreciate the fact that it connected me with my family’s culture rather than feeling restrained by its gendered connotations.

Now, I look more like a cis woman than I ever have before. I technically use any pronouns. The realistic result is that everyone uses she/her because I present female. It doesn’t necessarily offend me. But every once in a while when someone doesn’t it still gives me that spike of euphoria. I haven’t taken any hormones or undergone any procedures. Mainly because I’ve realized how logistically complicated it is and I can’t take that on right now. If I could magically move into a man’s body, I would in an instant with zero hesitation. But I hate my own body less than I did when I was younger. I know how to dress to de-emphasize the feminine proportions. I don’t mind dresses, so long as they aren’t the mermaid style ones that really draw attention to curves. I love how I look in the poofy dresses that completely hide your figure. And while I know from an outside perspective those fluffy dresses make me look way more girly than jeans and a tee, I personally feel like my gender, whatever it is, is perfectly affirmed by them.

From the outside, it looks like I outgrew my tomboy tendencies, my internalized misogyny, and my adolescent awkwardness.

Internally, I feel more satisfied in my nonconforming relationship with gender than I have since childhood. I’ve really unpacked whether it was internalized misogyny at play, or some effort to dodge the brunt of facing the hardships of being a woman in this world. And while I’ve concluded that it’s impossible to completely remove those factors, that was never the driving force in my discomfort. I’m not even attracted to men at all, so I wasn’t trying to get their attention by copying them. I was using them as a guide to bring out my own masculinity. If I had endless resources there are things about my body that I would change, but I’m no longer completely unable to conceive of a future in which they aren’t changeable. I think I’d identify as somewhat nonbinary even if I could change everything. I don’t exactly want to be a man. But I’m able to look like a woman externally, be perceived as a woman by most people, and yet for the first time in my life I’m comfortable enough in myself to know that those things don’t have to make me a woman.

Anyway, I haven’t been “cured.” I’m not a woman. I used to think of myself as a girl and now I don’t, so I’m actually more gnc in that sense. I’m able to accept that some traits of mine aren’t inherently tied to my sex, nor do they have to be. I rejected them because even though we live in such a strictly gender segregated culture, my clothes and hobbies don’t have shit to do with my personal idea of what my gender means to me. And that’s what really matters, not my great aunt Caroline’s insistence that only girls can like pink so anyone who likes pink must be a girl. Might transphobes still use my journey as their fodder for further hatred and discrimination? Maybe. But I’m still not cis. And I’m still a trans ally through and through. Any attempt to use this story as “proof” that gender nonconformity is just a phase is actually just proof that those people didn’t actually understand me or my story at all.

Anyway, thanks to all the people who put in the work deconstructing our society’s very narrowed ideas of what gender means. Thanks to everyone who normalized neutral pronouns and the idea of existence outside the gender binary. I never could’ve existed this comfortably within myself in 2015 or 2016. And as our ideas of gender become more flexible, I hope more people can find their self actualizing interpretation of who they are, whether that’s done externally with gender affirming treatment or internally via rejection of the mortal flesh

The hardest, but most important, part of my transition has been untangling what my personal dysphoria is, and what is more a result of cissexism.

What I mean by this is that I learned that I am not dysphoric about certain aspects of myself, my body, and my life, but my discomfort in these aspects was influenced by the cissexist culture I live in which told me I couldn't exist as myself.

It's definitely a slow process, but I have found that it helps me self-actualize and actually see myself instead of what others demand of me.

[deniigi]

Hi I fell in love with ur fic the tuning fork. The domesticity mixed with the feeling of watching loved ones move forward in life without you was such an attack on my emotions.

Just constantly switching from AWW baby luke to Oh nO. It was great.

I have so many questions now that i’ve finished it, and i might spam you. But for now, was Cody upset at the end because he wanted to adopt Ezra?

Hi!!

I welcome all questions! The Tuning Fork was so much fun to write.

tbh the whole piece was birthed from ideas of Stewjoni Obi-Wan, except it veered into:

Right so Stewjon is space scotland

That means that the economy was likely based around animal products and textiles.

Okay that makes Sheep farmer Obi-Wan a likely scenario.

OKAY, but what if, instead of the farmer, Obi-Wan was the herding hound? (superhuman speed, war-honed reflexes, a talent for herding people (See: Anakin, See: Luke, See: Ahsoka, See--you get it) probably great joy derived from running around all over the moors with a single job to do, etc etc)

That would make Cody the sheep farmer.

I am more than okay with Cody being the sheep farmer.

But as to your question specifically, it wasn't that Cody wanted to adopt Ezra at the end, but rather, in raising Luke, he has developed Opinions on parenting and the appropriate treatment of natborn children.

He was upset by Ezra's upset and found it cruel to take him from Lothal against his will, even if it was for his own good. Most of the troopers had never seen a force-sensitive child brought into the Order, and had assumed that it was a fairly straightforward and peaceful transition, when, unfortunately, that is not always the case.

Besides that, there are parallels between Cody's perception of Ezra's treatment and the clone troopers being treated like objects. Cody refuses to view children in the same way, even when they're being bratty or stubborn.

So while yeah, he thinks Obi-Wan goes too hard with giving Luke power to decide things (he's a fucking toddler, Kenobi, no he does not get to bargain his way out of a nap), Cody also approaches kids like they are little people who need someone to translate their thoughts back to them so help them make better decisions. Ezra didn't get that chance in Tuning Fork, everyone was too frustrated and tired to reason with him by the time he was caught.

I hope that clears that bit up a bit!

[obsidiancreates]

As My Friend Has Stood By Me, So Shall I (Part 9)

"How close was it to the gate?"

"Too close. It almost scaled the wall."

A ragged sigh, a weary hand rubbed over an aching forehead. "Add as many extra guards as we can spare, and send all other to search for whatever it is these Orcs are looking for."

"How will we even know what they- and we're- looking for?"

"I don't know. But whatever it is, we can never let it fall into Orc hands. Not if they're this set on it."

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

Thorin leaves the meeting worn and weary, even more so than after a battle. But this is a battle, in a way. A battle of wits, and watchful eyes. A battle of problems trying to stall progress, and progress trying to stall itself.

"Thorin!"

Ah, speaking of stalling. Thorin pauses, looking at Bilbo with vague amusement as the hobbit stalks towards him with the same righteous confidence he'd had while snapping at Smaug to leave Laketown alone.

Hmm. The memory almost makes Thorin nervous all of a sudden. What did he do to earn that same passionate energy?

"Banned?" Bilbo says upon reaching the king, crossing his arms. "You-you banned me from the treasury? Like I'm some- some wandering toddler?"

Ah. So that's his transgression. "I'm well-aware that you're full grown."

"So why am I being treated like a child? I haven't had a moment to myself since that- that incident with Bofur, as though that wasn't just an outlier in this whole-"

"All I said was to not allow you into the treasury alone. If you're being followed elsewhere, that's not by my orders."

"Oh, please, Thorin," Bilbo huffs. "Let's not pretend you have nothing to do with it. Of course if you're worried the rest of them will feel the same! You practically leak authority, if you commented on me sneezing they'd be bundling me up and setting me to bed rest!"

Thorin feels a smirk pull at his mouth. "You're giving me ideas, Master Baggins."

"And that's another thing, I thought we'd moved past the 'Master Baggins' title. Just say my name, Thorin, I leapt on an Orc for you! We can abandon the formalities!"

"Maybe I think the title suits you."

Bilbo suddenly blushes furiously, but his irritation doesn't fade. "You- I- You blasted- argh! You're impossible, you stubborn-"

Thorin watches Bilbo splutter and fumble, the smirk staying in place, but softening a bit. Sometime Bilbo's confidence could be... unnerving. That someone so... so used to simple, pleasant things, so used to a life free of hardship and need for standing against evil, could scold Kings and make demands of Dragons as though it was nothing. Thorin had even heard the stories of when the Company first arrived in Bag End.

Bilbo, before he'd even stepped out the door, shoving dwarves to make them put his grandfather's chair back in place and wrestling his prize-winning tomatoes out of the hands of battle-hardened warriors. Such a fierce determination, fearless protectiveness, seemingly borne from... nowhere.

So yes. Thorin derives pleasure from watching that confidence slip from time to time, as long as it's in a setting where the confidence isn't needed. Where Bilbo is safe to splutter and fumble, safe to make slip-ups and blush with embarrassment.

Maybe, in truth, Thorin derives the pleasure from seeing Bilbo in a setting outside of peril. Maybe he enjoys watching Bilbo fuss and stumble through his normal life with the ability to make mistakes without any great costs. Maybe he just likes seeing that there's still that same hobbit he met in The Shire, underneath the role of Hero that their journey had forced on him. The same one who, after wrangling with a band of thirteen war-ready dwarves, had passed out at the mere idea of dragon fire.

"-wipe that smug look off your face!" Thorin finally snaps out of his musings as Bilbo points at him accusingly, puffing with his jaw set.

"My apologies, Master Baggins." His tone is steady, but there's a teasing glint in his eye, he knows it. It serves to make Bilbo roll his eyes and huff.

"Just tell them to back off, will you?" Bilbo looks down the corridor. "I stayed because I don't want to be lonely, but being alone sometimes is not the same thing."

"I'll talk with the others as soon as I'm able. But can you not simply spend time in your room?"

Bilbo stiffens a bit more, looking away. "It has a drip."

"Above your bed?" A problem indeed. Dwarven beds were not easy to move.

But Bilbo shakes his head, gripping his own arms tightly. His reply is curt, tense. "Just- somewhere."

Something is... wrong, here. Something more than a drip. Thorin's smirk falls away, and he gently puts one hand over one of Bilbo's. "Why does it bother you?"

Bilbo still doesn't meet his eyes. "... I just don't like the sound."

There's something in his expression, something... haunted.

"... We could... switch rooms," Thorin offers. "I don't mind the sound of a drip."

Finally Bilbo looks at Thorin again, the tightness of his features smoothing a bit. "Really?"

"It's not like we'd have to move much."

Bilbo gives a small laugh. "It isn't, is it? I've still only got the clothes I'm wearing." He looks down at the blue coat he'd gotten in Laketown. "Suppose I should find something new soon."

"You can ask Dori to make you something. He's a tailor."

"He is?" Bilbo blinks, and then his eyes widen. "I- Thorin, I never asked! I assumed you were all miners or warriors or smiths, I- this won't do at all, I can't believe myself-"

Bilbo continued to curse his own thoughtlessness as he took off again, presumably to set the record straight about who did what as a job.

Thorin would have smiled at it, had the image of Bilbo so shaken by a drip not been so fresh in his mind.

Bilbo.

Bilbo who had scolded Kings, and made demands of Dragons. Who had come face-to-face with The Pale Orc for Thorin's sake, twice. Who had rescued them from giant spiders, and faced Thranduil directly after breaking The Company out of the Woodland Prison.

That Bilbo... was shaken to near speechlessness by a drip.

Thorin shook his head. Perhaps it had nothing to do with the journey. Perhaps it was some fear Bilbo had from before they ever arrived at his door. He had hoped to see the same hobbit who passed out reading a contract, had he not? Even if this felt... different. Less borne of inexperience. More of... well. Experience. But experience of what?

He didn't have the slightest clue.

He made haste in getting their room switched. He didn't want his hobbit to dwell somewhere that brought him such fear any longer.

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

Drip

Drip

Drip

The feeling of being watched.

Bilbo peered around the stone. The creature from before was... gone. Vanished from the outcrop it had dragged the goblin to.

Drip

Drip

Drip

Where was it? Bilbo could hardly see. The cave was so dark, dank, and as cold as- well, as the creature had sang about.

As death.

Drip

Drip...

Drip...

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

"Can't believe we forgot to ask," Bilbo mutters to himself, wandering through the throngs of busy dwarves. His hand is firmly clenched in his pocket, as it always seem to be in crowds these days. "Over a year on the road and we never once thought it important! Of course they're not all miners, or warriors, we're not and we still fought fine so why wouldn't they-"

"Who're you talkin' to?"

Bilbo yelps, whirling around to find himself face-to-face with Fili.

He groans, putting a hand over his heart. His other hand leaves his pocket, The Ring slipping back to the bottom of his pocket. His now free hand is used to prop himself up as he folds over, resting it on his knee.

"Seems everyone can sneak up on you these days," Fili jokes. "Come on, up you get."

He pulls Bilbo back up to standing, and Bilbo huffs and dusts himself off. It does nothing, of course, but it looks like it does something. At least, it does for his dignity. "Seems you've all gotten sneakier," Bilbo snips back.

"Or the mountain is louder. But," Fili pats Bilbo on the shoulder, and suddenly Bilbo finds that they're walking side-by-side through the crowd. "Like I asked, who were you talking to?"

"Myself."

"Yourself."

"Yes, well, in case you didn't notice, before I came on this whole quest I lived alone. When you live alone you have no-one to talk to but yourself."

Fili shakes his head. "Wouldn't know. I've always had Kili to talk with. We're only ten or so years apart."

"And I'm guessing that's not very long for dwarves?"

"Not the longest."

They walk in silence for a bit, Bilbo's hand twitching back into his pocket when another dwarf brushes against him.

"You're a very twitchy fellow, you know."

Bilbo startles, having grown used to the relative quiet of the walk as they'd gotten to less dense parts of the crowd. "Am I?"

Fili nods. "Your nose, for one. And then your hand and that pocket."

Bilbo's fist tightens, The Ring pressing into his palm. What next? Will Fili ask why the pocket is so important? Why his hand is always guided there by some instinct Bilbo himself didn't fully understand? Why the small trinket within brought him as much comfort as it did confusion?

"Why're you so nervous all the time?"

Well, that wasn't what Bilbo was expecting. "Excuse me?"

"That's why you're twitchy, isn't it? I just thought it'd stop once the quest was over. But it hasn't."

"How-how much attention have you all been paying, exactly, to me and my nervous habits?"

"You don't exactly hide them." Fili pats his back. "You're a bit of an open book, if you don't mind me saying."

There's some curl of... satisfaction, almost, in Bilbo's chest, with The Ring nestled in his hand. 'Open book' indeed, hah. He forces a smile. "No, I don't mind. I quite like books, if you'll recall."

"You're like Ori. Nose in a book at home, weapon in hand out the door."

"I- wea- I'd never even held a sword before Gandalf gave-! No, hang on, the first time I held a sword was when you shoved all your weapons into my arms at the door!"

Fili grins at the memory. "Well, in that case I'm honored. Do you want to know how I keep so many on me?"

"No, thank you. I think Sting is quite enough for me."

Fili tilts his head to look at the blade. "How'd you come up with that name, anyway?"

"What, Sting? I came up with it in Mirkwood."

"How?"

Bilbo shrugs, sniffing a bit and- ah, his nose does twitch quite a bit, doesn't it? "Spiders said it stung."

"... The spiders said it stung?"

All at once the blood drained out of Bilbo's face. He felt it rush out so fast it left him light-headed, and he almost swayed. But he twitched his nose again, and cleared his throat. "Didn't you hear it?"

"All I heard was hissing sounds."

"Well, they certainly made plenty of those. But they spoke, too. I heard them, before anyone was captured." Bilbo shudders, remembering the whispers, just before Thorin had lead them away from the path. "I did ask if anyone else heard them, but no-one but Thorin replied."

"... I don't remember much about Mirkwood," Fili admits. "Not before fighting the spiders, anyway. The second time, after you rescued us. But Thorin did seem to hear something, I think, just before we got taken."

Bilbo's hammering heart finally remembers his head exists, slowly allowing blood to return to his face. "That must have been while I was above the canopy."

"So that's how you escaped those things." Fili gives him a long, searching look. "You must've had the clearest head of all of us, to think of that. You even knew we were going in circles, if I remember right."

"Well-"

"And tried to warn us to stay on the path."

"Is your point that I'm the only one with half a brain among us?"

It doesn't draw the laugh Bilbo had hoped for. Fili's gaze is still searching, squinted, and Bilbo tightens his grip on The Ring even more.

"Are hobbits magic?"

"What?" Bilbo's eyes must be bugging out of his head, if his face looks the way he feels it does. "Magic?! We- no, hobbits are not more magic than any other- hobbits magic, that's like asking if Men are magic, it-"

"You just seem awfully in tune with magic, is all."

"In tune-!"

"Didn't I hear you mention to Gandalf you could feel the magic in the air, before we entered Rivendell?"

"Well yes, but-"

"And before we entered Mirkwood, you said it felt sick."

"Anyone could feel that, it was in the air-"

"It was when we went inside. You felt it at the border, before we ever stepped foot on that foul earth."

"What are you trying to get at?! Why are you blasted dwarves so determined to find something different about me?! I'm a hobbit, I'm just a hobbit!"

Fili holds up his hands. "All I'm saying is that I never felt anything before we entered either place, and I don't think anyone else did either."

"Because what could possibly get through that famously thick Durin skull of your family's?" It comes out sharper than Bilbo had intended, but the conversation has his head spinning and his hand in his pocket is clenched so tight it's beginning to hurt but he can't seem to let go-

Fili steps back from Bilbo. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Worried I feel more curses?" Bilbo snaps, a dryness creeping into his throat.

"No, but you look pale-"

Pale, thin skin, stretched taut over sharp bones, shriveled lips peeled back over broken and pointed teeth and wide glinting eyes-

"I'm not some helpless thing for you all to fuss over! Of course I'm pale, I've been stuck in tents and a mountain for all of winter and most of spring! And the sun here in Erebor is abysmal, it's thin and weak and somehow colder than the Shire sun-"

Oh, the Shire sunlight. Bilbo's words die as his breath stutters on the memory.

Warm, bright days, not with small shafts of light peeking from breaks in the cloud but pure light completely washing over the hills, the whole of Hobbiton bathed in softly golden light on warm summer days...

Fresh breezes, the dappled rays of sunlight on his books as he read under a tree with a fresh apple in hand, the quiet peace of a small brook babbling nearby and the returning to a small, cozy bedroom at the end of the day...

Bilbo sighs, opening eyes that he hadn't even realized he'd closed. His grip on The Ring finally, finally loosened. "I'm sorry, Fili. I know you didn't mean..." He huffs tiredly at his own behavior. "I know you're all just being caring. I'm... not used to the attention, is all."

Fili nods slowly, his eyes not leaving Bilbo's face. "I know we can be a bit much. Family is everything to us. When you grow up in exile, you've got little else to hold onto."

"Of course. Of course, family is important, I... it's just been a while since I've had one."

Bilbo finds himself pulled into a hug then, strong and with a sense of pity to it. It gives the warmth of the gesture a sour twinge to it, but Bilbo ignores that and hugs the young prince back.

"I'm glad you all care," Bilbo says softly. "But I'll need some time to get used to how much."

Fili pulls away. "We haven't really shown you as much care as you have us, have we?"

"Of course you have."

But some little part of his mind, some deep, dark corner, whispers. No, they haven't show us the same care. Not one bit...

Bilbo shakes his head. "You have," he says firmly.

They do care. They do.

Care to watch. To spy.

No, no, they care.

...

Just... in their own way.

[cherry-lipbalm]

survival of the fittest. spencer reid.

5.3k words.

masterlist

“ If they were to somehow get out of here alive, she was certain it would only be one of them. ”

three hours earlier

Y/N was ready to go home - more than ready. They'd gotten back from a hard hitting case in Boston, touching down by early afternoon meant they were expected back at the HQ, which henceforth meant piles of paperwork were in their future. Y/N knew her complaining would only go reprimanded by Hotch, so she kept to herself in her cubicle, shoved into the corner of the bullpen, and desperate to get the documents out of the way.

Over the scribbling of her pen, she heard the mutterings of Morgan and Reid's conversation beside the latter's desk not too far away from her own. She sighed in defeat, because she knew she wouldn't be able to resist joining them, especially when the opportunity arose to take the mickey at Spencer.

When it did inevitably arise, she pushed herself away from her desk and allowed the wheels on her chair to escort her over to the men. At the sound of jagged rolling, Morgan stepped aside to make space for her to insert herself, a snide smug painted on his face.

"Did I just hear the word 'Spencer' and 'girl' in the same sentence?" She asked, leaning on the armrest to shove her shit-eating grin into Spencer's face; he only rolled his eyes and gave an insincere 'ha ha'.

"Your ears did not deceive you, baby girl," Morgan said, receiving a smack on the arm from Spencer. The warning stare he gave him almost made Y/N stop pestering him. Only almost.

"Oh my! Spill the beans, who is she?" Y/N gushed, steering her chair even closer to the Doctor while Morgan watched on amusedly.

"There isn't a she," he grumbled, head bowed to his paperwork in the hopes that if he ignored the Agents they'd just go away.

"...a he?"

"No!" Spencer exclaimed, snapping his head upwards.

"Hey! It's no skin off my nose, Spence."

He groaned, then turned back to his work and allowed for Morgan and Y/N to exchange a glance as they both tried to hold back snickers at their friend's flustered existence.

She stayed huddled around with them for a few more minutes, but as soon as she saw the clock hit 5, she jumped from her chair and kicked it back to her desk. Announcing that she was off, she began to gather and pack her things. While she did so, she heard Spencer make the same announcement.

"You're off earlier than usual," she called back, "let me guess... Doctor Who marathon?"

Spencer's smile gave him away; Y/N chuckled and draped her coat over her shoulders, standing by his desk while he adjusted his satchel.

"Busy man," she commented, then proceeded to listen to whatever sci-fi related ramble Spencer was emitting, interjecting with exclamations of intrigue or surprise whenever she deemed suitable (they were all timed guesses, but she didn't waver once).

"...Christopher Eccleston is actually the second favourite, despite the fact that a lot of people skip his season, but he has a 52% popularity–"

"Wait, why do people skip his season?"

"Oh, because he preceded David Tennant. He's the favourite, with a 69% popularity."

"Ha, 69," Y/N muttered under her breath with a crude smirk. Spencer only gave a restrained smile and raised his eyebrows. The two fell into a silence, except from a 'thank you' Y/N said softly when Spencer opened the door for her.

The elevator button illuminated under her touch, and they stood in front of the steel doors, awaiting their opening. Y/N tapped her foot senselessly, and Spencer rolled on the balls of his heels.

In amidst the silence, Y/N looked up to Spencer and they exchanged a warm smile. The beep of the elevator distracted them, and after stepping aside to let people out, they ambled in and finally relaxed when the doors closed on them again.

"Today was relentless," Y/N sighed, checking her watch.

"Have any plans?" Spencer asked, out of courtesy.

"Well, I have to head to the repair store to pick up my phone, but after that there's leftover Chinese food in the fridge with my name written all over it," she chuckled.

"What happened? To your phone?"

"Morgan happened," was all she said. Spencer joined in on her judgement even though he didn't know the story, he did know that 'Derek Morgan' was simply a reason in itself that didn't warrant an explanation. Then, they lulled in the return of silence.

It wasn't until the elevator jerked and came to a sudden stop that the two spoke again.

"That's not right," Spencer muttered, and he immediately began to jab at the ground floor button before Y/N smacked his hands away, because she was already deep in a panic, so it was even worse when the next astounding jerk hit. She screamed when they were thrown off balance, and hoped she hadn't got a concussion from where she collided with the back wall upon the motion.

"What the hell?" She panted. They came to a still, but it made her even more nervous because she knew they hadn't been in there long enough to reach their floor. That, and the fact that they had just ripped through the air at about a hundred miles per hour.

Spencer's eyes furrowed, and he licked his lips in the way he did when he was focused on something. Judging by the way he assessed the doors, Y/N thought he was about to pull some thwarted stunt, or more likely reel off some facts about steel.

"I think something's wrong," he mumbled.

"No shit, Sherlock,"

"Ah, elementary my dear Watson," Spencer replied so quickly that Y/N was almost inclined to believe it made any sense.

"Did you know that Sherlock Holmes never actually said that? Sir Arthur Conan Doyle never wrote those words, they were only adapted into the movies years later-"

"Oh my god, Spencer, are we stuck in this elevator?" Y/N shrieked, her knuckles whitening under her tight clutch of the hand rails on the wall: half from fear and the other from frustration.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I think so."

Upon Spencer's bluntness, she stepped forward, desperate for any attempt of an escape plan, she began pressing the ground floor button repeatedly; when that didn't work, she resorted to aimlessly smashing all the buttons on offer. 

"That's– that's really not gonna do anything," Spencer said in the background.

"Do you have a better idea?" She snapped, turning to him with a glare before resuming her actions.

"Try the - try that one!" He pointed to the red button with an alarm bell engraved on it, and Y/N felt stupid under his stare for not noticing it before. She pressed it, and the ringing noise that emitted from it seemed to do nothing but that: ring. She was certain someone was supposed to come to their aid through a speaker, so she pushed it continuously, but derived nothing further. At least she gained some comfort in the panic of Spencer's voice that told her he was shitting himself as much as she was.

"It's not doing anything!" She cried, and when he leaned over her and pressed it too, she bit her tongue and raised her eyebrows to tell him 'see?', infuriated at the fact that he thought she could be somehow pushing a button wrong. But, then again, she'd have been even more angry if he'd done it and it had worked.

When it didn't, she alternated to the next best thing.

"Help!" She yelled, slamming her palms against the doors. She didn't know what floor they'd been wedged at (or even if they were just floating in some space between levels), but someone had to hear them; they were bound to...right?

Spencer seemed to think so at least, because he was joining her in pounding his fists on the steel. Sooner rather than later, the harsh echo made Y/N's ears ring, so she stopped and took a step back.

"Well, this is great," she sighed, slumping in a lean on the wall as she rubbed her temples.

"I'm gonna miss Doctor Who," Spencer whined, pouting.

Y/N just rolled her eyes at him and told him to call somebody. She was sure she'd seen JJ just before they left, still huddled in her office; hopefully she'd be able to call maintenance and they could be released from this death trap of a machine.

"I can't, my phone died. Use yours."

"What?"

"My phone's flat, can you use yours?"

Y/N just stared at him. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt because the adrenaline rush of panic can make memories a bit hazy, but her skin was flustering under the rage she was feeling, her forehead was already beginning to perspire and the walls were so small and entrapping and - is it hot in here or just her?

"My phones at the store," she reminded him through gritted teeth, and watched his composure fall in both comprehension and defeat.

"Great," he remarked.

"Oh, like it's my fault?"

"Well, it's not mine."

"And it's not mine either so don't talk to me like that!"

It was only a short exchange, but it made Y/N's blood boil; if they were to somehow get out of here alive, she was certain it would only be one of them.

Spencer gulped, and Y/N was sure that had he the opportunity to he would be storming away right about now, but unfortunately for the both of them that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. The wonderful reality of this hitting Y/N, she kicked off her shoes and planted her bum down on the floor.

Spencer looked at her curiously while she did this, then quirked his lip and proceeded to do the same. He used his satchel as a pillow to support his head, and sighed loudly (it seemed deliberate just how exaggerative it was).

"No one is ever gonna find us here," Y/N said.

"We're not dying–"

"You don't know that. We could be suffocating as we speak-"

"Suffocation is impossible in elevators: the cars are designed not to be airtight and there's vents that allow air to move in and out," he pointed up at the grated opening above Y/N's head. At being proved wrong by Spencer and his big, unfathomable brain, she crossed her arms much like a stroppy toddler and even pouted her lip.

"We could still die," she mumbled.

"The statistics of that are still very unlikely; in fact, the people that die the most in elevators are elevator technicians themselves. An average of 26 people die in elevators every year in America–"

"And you're ready to be one of those 26?"

"We're not going to be. We won't suffocate, and it hasn't fallen."

"Yet," she said. "Plus, theres other ways to die. Like, I don't know, murder perhaps?" She said with a potent glare in his direction. He gave her a blank stare partnered with a sarcastic smile, one that only made Y/N more devoted to her other-ways-to-die initiative.

"We just have to wait a while... Did you know the longest duration of time someone was stuck in an elevator was 41 hours? Nicholas White. And all he had to eat was a packet of Rolaids."

More than accustomed to tuning out Spencer's rambles, Y/N barely heard what he was talking about, in a dazed trance where she was focused intently on where the paint didn't match the wall, she was so invested she almost missed what he said.

"Wait... oh my god. Do you have food?" She asked, sitting up from her subsided posture.

Spencer's face softened in dread, which didn't bring any aid nor optimism to their situation.

She watched him sit forward, shoving hands into the pockets of his blazer, coat, trousers and pulling out nothing but a few crumpled pieces of paper. Y/N matched him with an empty gum wrapper and a Walmart receipt displaying a concerning amount of pregnancy tests she had purchased last month.

"Do I even wanna know?" Spencer asked, chucking it back to the ground with a grimace as if it was riddled with germs (it probably was but, still).

"All you need to know is that I'm not pregnant," Y/N scoffed, almost amicably, but her eyebrows creased and she was back to a fuck everything this sucks expression in less than a second.

"Well we can't survive on this."

"You really haven't brought any food?" Spencer pestered.

"No, I had Chinese leftovers on the cards for tonight. And I don't see you offering anything up; what's your excuse?"

Spencer only groaned, again. He kicked his feet out and let his head fall onto the wall back in the same place. He ran a hand through his hair, and the scarce gel he had used to keep it in place disassembled around his face in random strays of curls. The sight of him relaxing like he was settling in for the night didn't appease Y/N one bit.

While Spencer closed his eyes, Y/N got to her feet and decided slamming on the door again was a better pastime. Spencer, however, did not agree.

At the banging, Spencer's eyes shot open and his body shook in alarm. His eyes darted around the space frantically until they landed on Y/N's figure aligned with the doors on which she was unleashing hell. If yelling could open an elevator, they'd have been out in a jiffy.

"I think we've established that doesn't help," Spencer said.

"Then you help!" She shouted, continuing the thrashing of metal.

"How?"

"I don't know!" Her shriek echoed, and she yet again gave up on the violence. "Use that big brain of yours and find us a way out of here."

"The 7 steps to surviving being stuck on an elevator are fundamental; we've already done them. They include pressing the open button, the alarm and call button. We still have our light source, otherwise finding one would have been number two. We've tried yelled for help. The only one we haven't done is stayed calm," he said with a heavy emphasis in her direction. Currently, she was the epitome of panic.

Y/N furrowed a brow at him, "That's six. What's number seven?"

She watched Spencer inhale deeply before he told her, "wait it out."

Y/N felt her heart sink. The possibility of her going insane while being confined within this space was only increasing as the minutes passed by. And with that, she felt like oxygen was depleting alongside it. She took a big breath to remind her that there was still air to breathe, and Spencer caught sight of it.

"Are... are you claustrophobic?"

"No!"

His eyes widened at her outburst, and he even raised his hands in defence should the situation present itself, which was looking pretty inevitable.

"I'm not, I just... get a little... panicked, that's all."

"You don't say," he murmured, and —with a grunt— got to his feet again. He treaded towards the damned doors. Y/N thought he was going to bang on them again, and she took front-row seat on the floor to watch the imprudent, futile attempt. Instead, Spencer's long arachnid-like fingers dug into the crevice of the doors and he tried to pry them open. This was an even vainer approach; his strained groans showed such.

"It's no use. We're gonna be here for a while. I can offer you a juice carton," Y/N spoke, making Spencer turn attentively at the word 'juice'. He looked down to where she was rummaging through her bag and depositing a few random objects while she did so. In a very Mary Poppins like fashion, the entities incessantly kept coming and coming, gathering in remarkable piles on the floor. There seemed to be more things than space available, but then they were trapped in an elevator and space was one of the many luxuries the agents realised they had taken for granted. Despite his astonishment at the growing belongings, there seemed to be a concerning lack of food present.

She was, however, holding out an apple juice carton, and Spencer figured that you get what you're given. So while her attention focused to the remnants of whatever was in her bag, Spencer punctured the carton with the straw, and began sucking. He made a squeal of surprise and relief when he saw her pull out a feebly wrapped, half eaten bag of crackers.

"Oh, I forgot about these," she announced, with the first smile Spencer had seen from her since the elevator had broken down.

He leaned down to grab the bag, dusting off the sprayed crumbs and then took a seat to Y/N's left. He left space between them for chivalrous purposes and also to allow space for the bag of crackers to sit.

They made attempts to ration the snack, but it soon developed into an every man for himself situation when Y/N noticed Spencer had started to take two at once.

She wasn't even hungry anymore, but the hunger for beating Spencer at something prevailed and disregarded any logical thought that they ought to save food, so she dove in again for another cracker. Unluckily, she did so at the same time as Spencer, so it made for an awkward encounter when their hands collided but neither was willing to give up their slot in the bag.

Eventually (because they didn't want the other to notice their blush), they gave up when time ran too long and reached a compromise with halving the cracker. Y/N gave Spencer the bigger half of her failed equal snap, but neither of them addressed it.

Neither of them addressed anything actually, for the next... god knows how long they were cooped up in there. They sat in a pleasant silence, free from any awkward glances or trepidations: it was both from the fact that they were in their own heads, and a serendipitous comfort in one another.

"I'm sorry you're going to miss your Doctor Who... thing," was what broke the silence.

"Oh, it's okay. I can just watch it on repeat tomorrow."

"Okay," Y/N laughed softly, and they floated into another quiet.

"I'm sorry you're stuck in an elevator."

"Ha! Me too."

"When we get out of here maybe we can go for Chinese food," Spencer suggested, craning his neck to look at her with a discreet smile.

"Sure," she agreed. "By the time we get out my food at home might have rotten anyway."

And then time after that just... passed. In Spencer's satchel he had an uncanny assortment of reading material to thrive on, and amid her odd collection of pretty much everything she had ever owned, Y/N found an old MP3 player and some earphones (only the left ear worked, but it was as good entertainment as she was going to get).

There comes a point, though, when one person can only listen to so much music from their teen years; Y/N's taste back then was... questionable, to say the least. And her earphone seemed to agree with her, because it gave out just when the unmistakable sound of an NSYNC song began.

"Ugh, just when it was getting good!" She complained, tugging the bud from her ear and throwing it onto the miscellaneous pile.

Spencer's head quirked to Y/N, but his eyes only followed after he had finished a sentence on his page. When he did, he saw her curiously leaning over his shoulder and squinting at the words.

"You can borrow it if you want," he said. "This is my third time reading it and I have others."

He gestured to his pile, which had evolved into a makeshift bookcase in the corner of the elevator. A few pages were torn, and the spines were so worn down that she could barely make out what the titles were. Not from a lack of TLC, but rather copious amounts of it; having been read over and over again. 

"No, it's okay. You continue, I'll just... meditate, or something."

"It's a good book," Spencer said, and he sounded like he was trying to persuade her, so she gave in and nodded. Readjusting her posture, she focused again on where the paint didn't meet the wall as she listened to the one thing she thought she wouldn't ever be able to stand: Spencer Reid's voice.

———

Which, to her and Reid's surprise, she found quite calming. Her hidden envy and not so hidden annoyance with his ability to reel off facts and wisdom like he was only recalling what he had for dinner hindered any fondness Y/N could associate with his voice. Until now, that is.

He was reading Strangers on a Train, supposedly his third favourite book, and they were reaching "the best bit" according to Spencer, but then every bit within the past forty five minutes since he'd started reading had been "the best bit", so Y/N wasn't sure.

But she's pretty calm, as calm as she can be stuck in an elevator, so she's actually thankful she has Spencer of all people beside her. She knew that if Morgan was in his place they'd have attempted murder at least a couple times by now; not to say that Y/N hadn't considered stabbing Spencer at all, but there's only so much damage a blunt pencil at the bottom of her bag could do.

So, she's calm. She's barely following the story because she only joined in halfway through, but she's grasped the basis of it because Spencer reads so eloquently and so well that he's practically painted the vividness of the narrative for her, even though he vouches it's down to Patricia Highsmith's words, which is true, but Spencer has a role in it too.

One thing Spencer recites makes Y/N wonder why she's never had him read to her before.

"People, feelings, everything! Double! Two people in each person. There's also a person exactly the opposite of you, like the unseen part of you, somewhere in the world, and he waits in ambush."

The story portrays an uncanny resemblance to the plots of the abundant crime scenes they analyse daily (Y/N wonders how Spencer comes home from work only to read about the same gory instances): the same mannerisms, behaviours and intricate understanding of criminal attitudes. It's accuracy is so astounding that Y/N asks if the author was ever a profiler of sorts.

Although it's selfish, because Y/N is not the real victim, she wished there was some way Highsmith's words could spring into real life and provide tainted rose coloured spectacles to which she could observe reality through. In some sick way, Y/N needed to see beauty in things like murder. She sometimes forgot that what they were doing had a purpose, and they tended to be the good guys. But there was no writing beautiful enough for Spencer to read and glorify the crimes with.

But even Y/N thinks Spencer's reading could help her see life through more of the silver lining rather than shrouded by the dark cloud that accompanied it.

The moment of rare serenity within Spencer's words is suspended, however, when he suddenly stops with no obvious justification. Y/N wonders if she's missed something profound within the story again so she goes to read over them on the page this time (because she's been rather entranced in Spencer's voice rather than the actual words), except when she looks up she sees a look of horror depicted on Spencer's face: one that doesn't register with her primarily because what's happening in the story is rather quite mundane compared to the dismay on his face. It's so poignant that she thinks something must be fatally wrong.

"What is it?" She asks, sitting up (and away because she thinks he may be about to vomit. But no, the real reason is even more horrific).

"I need to pee."

Y/N gasps; she hadn't even conjectured this predicament. It was a basic human necessity, how had she not anticipated this would happen? At first she thought, hey it's not that bad, better him than me— he can stand. Until she realises that there isn't really anywhere to stand.

"Oh no," she whispers, and he looks at her dauntingly. "You shouldn't have drank that apple juice."

"What was I supposed to do, bathe in it?" He scorns, and the two connect in an unwavering exchange eye contact with one another. Y/N dreads looking away in fear of what he'll do when she has her back turned.

So, like I said, Y/N was pretty calm, and I'd say Spencer was too; reading was a delight, and he found Y/N almost as endearing (almost). Life was bearable until Spencer needed to pee.

And it is here that they throw all peace out the window (if there was one) and give up on step number seven, and instead say hello to their old friend step number five: frantic yelling.

The energy pent up from lazing around reading and being read to is released fairly effectively. Y/N thinks she's never screamed so loud in her life, and Spencer knows he hasn't: entrapment and a full bladder can take one hell of a toll on a man.

And when the profusion of footsteps and the clanging of doors sounds, it is glorious. It is what they imagine heaven to sound like and more. Y/N collapses to the ground in relief, and Spencer throws his hands up in a prayer of thanks (even though he doesn't necessarily believe, but he is just so high on adrenaline and the discomfort of needing a wee that he'd just about believe anything now if it meant he could get to a bathroom).

"You guys okay in there?" A voice calls in from above them (Spencer genuinely thinks it's God) and Y/N has never been more happy to hear Derek Morgan.

"We're good! We're good! Oh my god, get us out of here please!"

"Right on it, baby. Bet y'all thought you were gonna die in there, huh?"

"Worse," Y/N called, "I thought I was gonna have to see Spencer's dick!"

Morgan laughed (music to their ears: any voice that wasn't each other's fit that criteria in that moment), and then told her he didn't want to know. Spencer and Y/N heard him holler behind him, and even more footsteps approached. Y/N couldn't see much from the slither between the doors that had just been pried open, since they had fallen a considerable distance from their floor. What she could see was only half of Morgan's face while he knelt on the ground.

"What happened?" Spencer asked, trying to gain some understanding for the reason behind missing his Doctor Who marathon.

"Power cut. The whole city's in blackout."

"You're kidding," Y/N replied, then turned. "A whole lotta people just risked that 1 in 26."

"Us included," Spencer said.

They recognised the voices of the maintenance team, and even a few uniforms of firefighters that worked on opening the doors with as much force as they could muster. Y/N looked again to the wall and paint mismatch, finding it too unsettling to look at their rescue attempt (that had way too much potential to go wrong) and even more unsettling to look at Spencer who was practically cradling his crotch.

"Ladies first!" A fireman called, and his hand reached into the space they had managed to (barely) increase, hoping that it wouldn't prove to be too difficult. From what Morgan told them, Spencer wouldn't have any trouble getting through it if they had halved the space ("the kid's a sherbet stick, I'm telling you").

"No, we've got a man here who's about to explode," Y/N joked, forgetting that the word 'explode' is a term one should use lightly within the headquarters of the FBI. She was blissfully reminded of this when the few surrounding agents brandished their guns. They almost didn't let them out until Spencer yelled that if he didn't get to a bathroom that instant he would give them a real reason to get their guns out.

So he was lifted out first, falling into Morgan's arms the chance he got to. He, somehow, managed to wait until he saw Y/N definitely leave the elevator before racing off down the hallway. Maintenance didn't even bother telling him that the doors have been locked because officially work finished three hours ago; they figured he had enough vigour in him to knock a wall down, never mind a door.

"Are you alright?" Morgan asked Y/N, lifting her up onto her own to feet. She's given a shock blanket, which is a pretty cool souvenir.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Miraculously. I don't know how you survived in there with him; I'd go insane."

"Eh," she chuckled, "he's not too bad."

———

After gathering their belongings, Y/N and Spencer make their way to leave work, again.

Morgan's nonchalant explanation of the blackout is in no way accurate to the genuine portrayal of, what Y/N can only describe as, a thriller movie come to life. She's looking out the wide scale windows in the bullpen room and can only see her reflection. It's creepy. Skittishly, she jumps when Spencer's image shows up behind her own. 

"Jesus, haven't I had enough near death experiences tonight?" She asks, holding a hand over her heart that she's sure just kickstarted (for various reasons).

"Sorry," he laughs. Placing his hands in his pockets, Y/N can sense he's more relaxed now that he's peed and no longer trapped within the restrictions of one metre.

They smile, then look out again to the darkened abyss before them. Y/N has never seen the city so quiet, yet she knows it's anything but. Once she steps outside it's bound to be hectic central.

"You normally get the subway, what are you gonna do?"

"Oh, I guess I'll just walk," Spencer shrugs.

"Absolutely not. I'll drive you home."

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that—"

"Spence, I just spent the last three hours in a confined space with you, I'm sure I can do twenty minutes more," she said. "Get your stuff ready, we can head off now."

She swung her bag over her shoulder and turned to walk out the bullpen, her heels reverberating throughout the room. Spencer watched her stride out by her reflection in the window, as to not be caught staring.

"If my car breaks down I'm gonna commit murder!"

Spencer laughed loudly, which made Y/N smile as she passed the kitchenette. When he continued to chuckle to himself he realised he wouldn't mind another three more hours stuck with her— at least he'd have an excuse if the car broke down. Maybe if he set off now he could get there in time to beat Y/N to her car and slash the tyres. He kindly reminded himself that that's illegal while he retrieved his satchel off the back of his chair and strutted out the office.

He wasn't too far behind Y/N when he suggested getting a Chinese on the way back.

"Is that a date?"

"If eating a Chinese takeaway in your car is your idea of a date," he sang.

"It very much is," Y/N grinned irrefutably.

He held the door open for her, she said thank you, and their giddy (dare I say lovesick) smiles dropped when they faced the elevator.

They've taken the stairs every day since.

fin.

[dreamsofyexiao]

Fated, Faded Nostalgia

Summary: Written with the belief that Nikki encountered Leonid when she was just a baby. This fic is basically an interpretation that Leonid had a major presence and role throughout Nikki's life.

Relationships: Leonid & Nikki

Word Count: 3710

There are small mentions and references to Love Nikki, but only a little, not enough to hinder understanding

~*~*~

Leonid sat quietly and silently within his clear observatory, pondering the vibrancy and propriety of each eternal memory. It was his habit to be consumed with his study each day consistently, until he found every truth to all the world’s entirety.

And on this night of starry bulbs glittering amid the world’s dim light, there was a star that shone above so particularly bright.

Drawn to this odd star, Leonid brought it closer so that he might see it more clearly. It seemed to sparkle with a passion of its own in colors of pink and white. It was small, but so entirely captivating, and when he looked even deeper, it reflected the life of someone mortal in a world apart from Miraland—the world of which he was from and the one most familiar. He didn’t concern himself much with the stars of other worlds, for their luster was derived from places aside from beauty and style, and thus they were never so brilliant. This one, however, was very much different, and he took a special interest in it.

Leonid was forced out of his studying when there came crying from behind him; a distressed sort of wailing. He turned his head over his shoulder, eyes alarmed, to see a child sitting at the floor of the observatory.

Another one lost in these memories, he noted in his head as he took a few steps toward the child to examine closer, though he was the one who had directed the star to himself.

She was a girl, dressed in a long white nightgown adorned with darling lace details. She had short pink hair that curled around her face and large amber eyes that spilled tears down her plump cheeks. Her body was small and round with baby fat, making her look plush and cherubic. She could not have been older than three years. To the man before her, she was just a baby.

Leonid stepped closer to her and bent down, picking her body off the cold ground before leaning her against his chest. She let out a small cry and instinctively tried to pull away until quickly giving into the warmth of his body, falling limp though her eyes still ran with tears.

Leonid carried her for just a brief moment before he sat her down upon a clear space of his desk, allowing her small legs and the long ruffled skirt of her nightgown to dangle sadly down. She seemed far more relaxed now, just to be away from the cold ground, and Leonid watched her as she tried to stop her own crying.

She tried not to wail in the close presence of this stranger, for her fear of causing tension was so far greater, nor did she cling to him for his kind intention; she just stayed silent in stoic apprehension, looking with wide eyes at the galactic place, of which the vastness spread beyond her trace.

Her crying appeared to only be a partial thing, for she was able to ease herself, and her temperament was quite naturally calm, it seemed. Leonid appreciated that calmness—how easy of a baby she must be.

“What’s your name?” he asked the girl in effort of a friendly gesture, but she seemed to be paralyzed in her nerves. Even when she opened her mouth and looked as if she wanted to speak with her limited supply of toddler words, no sound from her throat could be heard.

But it was no trouble. Leonid, instead, looked at the collar of the lacy white nightgown she wore, and there, conveniently stitched into the white cloth, was her name in pink thread. He breathed out, “Nikki”.

And among the galaxy, that little bright star twinkled even more.

He looked again to the star that shined beautifully in the dark atmosphere. Her star’s path was but a short line, a large length removed from her purest destiny. It was a direction still unknown, but Leonid could see the power that was shown. Her gleaming stars promised abilities so very vast and lovely; something exceptionally brilliant and shrouded in pure beauty. The intensity of her potential could fill anybody who understood such aptitude with overwhelming joy. Her very life—it’s mortality and all the little things Leonid looked upon as meaningless—would be a primal facet

And, then, he turned his head and looked into her eyes, for the eyes were the key to all human integrity. In them, he saw a boundless potential, and a significant beauty, and an ability beyond anyone else’s. But with it, there came a catch; something that directly countered her potential. In her eyes, there was the compulsion to resist her own ability, the avoidance of motivation and desire, the inclination to snuff her own strength, and the tendency to float amid mediocrity. Every person had a weakness—a sin of sorts, a path of self-destruction—and hers was the temptation to forget herself and all the potential she withheld.

Leonid turned his face away. If this girl were to give into her weaknesses, it would be an opportunity wasted, a purpose evaded. Even if he rearranged every star he could gather, he could not change her nature; he could not free her of weakness.

Leonid looked back at the innocent young thing that sat politely and frightfully at his desk. His expression grew soft and kind, wavering in the gaze of the girl who looked with brightness and confusion up at him with those eyes so full of potential.

One truth I’ve learned is that weakness cannot disappear. It cannot even be overcome. Nikki, you won't be able to overcome these weaknesses, but you can use them to help you.

And with that thought, Leonid was able to clearly see the full picture of her life, and the full spectrum of her ability. He saw the advantageous route that her weaknesses could take, how the ease of her nature could float and blend but not be consumed by the world of which she’d attend. And how, just as easily, she could accept any movement or disturbance in her normalcy, and learn to blend with that as well. How perfectly fit for Miraland she could be, floating to and fro with seldom sense of herself until it wakes her up and she finds decision to oppose…

These brief images of genuine truth, the very authenticity of which he endlessly chased, filled Leonid with joy. It was a moment of envisionment so pure, so real that he knew they would slip away if he did not cling to them right then.

Leonid smiled at Nikki, and she blinked back. He drew a line along a large sheet, extended the path of her very bright star, and then he set her on her way; back to her own world.

~*~*~

A couple times more, Nikki would come to Leonid as a young child. On nights when she was put into her bed and left to gaze outside her window until her soul fled; parts of her floated outward from her body, and she made her way to the man among the galaxy. She didn’t say much, hardly anything at all; she was very quiet, and shy with her words, but she adored the care that Leonid would receive her with.

Leonid would smile and laugh and pull away, allowing for her to watch and stay. She was always awake and alert as she observed his observing and writing and drawing. She stared at the pretty clothes he’d craft, fascinated and captivated by the beauty he could draft.

But those visits quickly ceased after just a couple weeks. Nikki grew from a shy child to a sweet young girl, but with that growth, her memory faded, as a child’s always does, and Leonid’s face was but a hazy fog.

It wasn’t again that she’d see him until several years later, when she was six years old.

Nikki, the little girl now grown taller with her pink hair straighter, found herself transcoded again from her body and standing within an observatory amid a cosmic galaxy. She stood there, dazed and confused in a sort of enchantment, until she noticed a man sitting by himself, looking up onto the constellations. She watched him draw upon the sheets that lay before him as he gazed with deep interest in the beautiful colors surrounding him. He seemed to fit perfectly within the atmosphere, from his clothes and his demeanor. Nikki could look at him with her young eyes and easily observe, This is where he’s meant to be.

And she asked, “Who are you?”

“I am the one who has decided your fate.” He spoke with a vain wisdom, his tone clipped and curt as though to dismiss the girl with little effort. He had sensed her presence from the moment she arrived, but held his attention from her as he continued his study of the stars above. There was an odd sense of impatience and frustration that poured out from his words—feelings he hardly knew he had until he spoke to her. He felt the anger to his core. This girl that he’d chosen knew nothing—nothing—and had so far to still go.

Nikki blinked, unbothered by any aggressive feeling he could’ve subtly communicated. Instead, her interest was piqued by confusion of the words he spoke, and she went closer to him, sensing the familiarity of his voice, his tone, his appearance and presence.

And, from then, Leonid took Nikki under his wing. She found her way to him easily, almost every night when her consciousness would slip away. For years, he taught her all he could—what he knew and what he could see and what he learned from all the worlds in between. Nikki learned well, and she was never shy in asking questions. Leonid enriched her as she grew from her adolescence, and quietly, he would evaluate all she was capable of, yet what happened more subtly, along Leonid’s plan just as silently, was that Nikki would teach something new to Leonid with her youth and earthly innocence, like a hope or beauty sought in things that were only temporary. A new perspective she’d teach him really, which was enver enough to change his mentality, but lasted him even when she was gone and pushed itself into every memory.

Nikki, herself, was never allowed to remember however, for when she returned to her real world and was fully awake in her body, she would forget all over again, as her mortal human life, a flaw in Leonid’s eyes, could not bear the comprehension of her soul’ s dreamlike transcendence. So each time she awoke, Leonid slipped away, disappearing in her own hidden memory.

~*~*~

And so Nikki grew in her own world alone, in the comfort of her room, her routine, and her home. She made peace with the loneliness that persisted through her years—a pleasant existence among distant peers.

Nikki found solace within just herself, and was happy in her own company for most of her life. She floated aimlessly within her life, never quite grounded or structured, but going with the flow of all that was around her. She found joy in simple things and maintained a gentle nature and peace of mind. Her way of senselessness, however, and her lack of focus or direction, kept her quite isolated and lonely, which only made her better at finding ways to enjoy life on her own. A cycle of accepted loneliness.

In truth, the company and companionship of just her parents and sister could never be enough to fully sustain her. Nikki had moments in her young years where she would cry with deep unhappiness; devastating solitude that left her separated and lonely.

Leonid would look down in pity, feeling pangs of guilt and responsibility. Graciously, in a moment of sorrow and care, he would reach out and make himself known, assuring Nikki that she was full and contempt, just with things she wasn’t able to know yet.

As soon as she’d see Leonid, her memories would return, and she would recognize him at once. His presence was something magical in those moments, for every piece of sadness would simply fall away, and she would leap with vigor and purpose, for she knew—she knew—that all that pained her was but momentary feelings in her head.

But, of course, none of that could last, for Leonid would have to depart and take, with him, her knowledge, but leaving the feelings of sentiment and amity so that she’d no longer feel so lonely. The memories of visits and laboratories and stars and destinies would always have to fade. It was all too much for her human mind to comprehend, so it was stored in her unconscious and the deepest parts of her head. When the memory was gone, he slipped away from her again.

That is, until she would enter her dream and her consciousness would traverse through the sky until she was at Leonid’s side in the familiar observatory once more.

How perfectly it was all arranged: Nikki growing in her own world without the burden of knowing her fate, then leaving, as if to take a break, most nights to the galaxy where time stood still for a brief eternity, to which she felt she could stay forever until Leonid insisted she leave and continue her very human life, if only just to grow in her maturity.

And grow she did in skill, and knowledge, and kindness, and beauty, and every little thing that made her perfectly lovely. Leonid took everything in, considering when to have her visit Miraland, where her talents could shine and where he hoped she’d thrive.

~*~*~

He sent her without her knowing. She was still just a teenager, so lonely in her world, barely even in touch with her own self, yet her styling surpassed the strength of anyone else.

To Nikki, Miraland was wonderful and beautiful compared to her life’s usual. Her years there were magical and meaningful, and she was beyond grateful. Dancing with princes, birthday celebrations, so many friends, learning about herself and her talents, and the beauty overflowing from every place, and falling in an almost-love, and even going through betrayal and grief, and witnessing death… What a mystical life it was, all that she got to experience. And there, everyone loved her and recognized her exceptional gifts. Yet, she hardly seemed to notice, and she remained humble… distant, detached, and empty. But, so full with the welcoming and warmth of all the connections she built. She never had a lonely day.

But, still, in Miraland, her memory was fragmented. She did not recall Leonid, and she was left unaware of her true reasons for being there, and even with her talents, there existed this persistent purposelessness inside of her, a feeling that she, herself, hardly acknowledged and couldn’t recognize was truly there. It caused her to succumb to every weakness. In Miraland, she floated again, with seldom a will of her own. She trusted others in all they did and said, and allowed herself to be carried off by her friends. She did what was expected and what they wished for her to do, enjoying it all the while, but her potential was subdued. Even in an environment where her styling skills were appreciated and could thrive, she kept herself meak and watered her abilities down, only using what was needed when asked of her. And she did it all unconsciously, never realizing. She lost herself, again and again, for she never could be whole, not with integral pieces of her consciousness completely unfound within her memory. Oh, and it was so easy to get lost in Miraland… with all its brilliant charm, Nikki was able to do what she’d always done: accept the atmosphere and blend into it with everyone. And with the addition of her beloved friends, she would fit again into what they needed her to be. There seemed never to be a chance for her to look inwardly. What a peace it seemed to be.

And all the while, Leonid watched, tearing apart as she made the same mistakes—a habit of weakness that she could not break. He was torn between reactions. Some days, he wished desperately to reach out and help her, even to weep over the parts of herself she lost, knowing deep down that he was the cause. Other days, it was only disdain. He felt anger when she did not use all he taught her, and he’d turn his eyes away, detaching himself in a miserly way.

But when Miraland ended in destruction, Leonid spared Nikki of any harm. As though holding her in his palm if she were something small, he gently pulled her away from the present day of Miraland, guiding her far and back, until she was safely tucked beneath centuries of the past. Sacred and protected, like she was something special.

But once again, no truth was unveiled to her consciousness. She forgot her fate, another fragmented shard of memory that was scattered in the pieces all around her. Somewhere amid her never-ending slumber, she found a spark of sincerity and virtue. With her own strength, by her own will, she made a decision. She overcame her own compulsion to stay still and move along the tide that Leonid had her pulled by, and she created a change, her own little path—a connection to the Gate of Heart.

~*~*~

Nikki traveled through the early years of Miraland was confusion and excitement, not quite aware of the outcome or purpose, but knowing that she had a responsibility and a reason for traveling so far back.

When she fell briefly ill and met with Leonid again, she was made aware.

Leonid spoke to her with gentleness and care, his tone patient and warm even as Nikki tried to argue with him. Argue, she did, which was exactly what Leonid had always wished she’d do. She, for one of the first times, stood her own resolve, defended her own meaning in defiance of Leonid’s pessimism, and curated her own opinion and perspective in opposition to his. And, above all, was persistent and committed to proving it.

Then she awoke, and though the memory wished to bury itself as it always did, a part still remained aware.

In time, she was presented with Leonid’s legendary manuscript. Loen handed it to her, entrusting that she would keep it safe, to which she obliged and took the words of Leonid into her possession.

The dainty fingers that once were so little and meek, barely able to grasp the hand reached out when she’d cry and shriek, now gracefully could hold the pages with writings of a marvelous destiny foretold. But something was lost to her as she stared down at the manuscript. It felt heavy in her hands—almost burdensome, but it was familiar. The writing was of symbols she could not decipher, and the meaning was so bleak and unclear to her. Overcome with stress, a panic seized her. It was a paralyzing fear, as though someone was watching her when she didn’t want to be seen, and she felt helpless in her inclination to hide away. All these emotions, so intensely felt, were brought on just by looking upon what she couldn’t comprehend.

She felt six years old again, looking out into the vast galaxy, knowing there was some meaning to it, yet never being able to grasp it. Overwhelming… It would have been a wonderful thing, had she been free to lose herself in it, but she was told to know it and understand it, which set herself apart from it. And that panic of trying to hold in her arms what she wished to just be a part of, returned to her all at once as she held the manuscript of which she’d always be apart from.

But when she was young, she had Leonid beside her to calm her, stabilize her, ground her and secure her. She could never be lost when he was beside her, not until he slipped away when she returned to her real world and her fragmented pieces scattered all around, free to lose herself amid anything she found. Looking upon the writing of which she could touch but was unable to know, it was as if Leonid had slipped away all the more.

~*~*~

Braving through, Nikki carried the pieces of him she didn’t understand as she went about the early Miraland. She kept it in her safety through those who wished to rip it away, until soon one day she had no option but to hand it off and… away.

Emptiness, loss, bleakness, and sorrow overcame Nikki and she knelt on the cold ground, helpless and defeated. Red petals brushed passed her skin, and more fell until they overwhelmed the atmosphere, threatening to overwhelm her in the red of Joy’s blood.

Nikki had witnessed betrayal before, but never so much like this. Never by someone who had made an effort to know her and help her… even befriend her, and praise her, and like her, only to reveal how he’d completely used her.

However, he warned her of her trusting nature. And however much she was hurt, she learned from him, and she’d never fall victim to deception again.

Qin Yi reached out for the manuscript, no emotion on his face. For the sake of her friend, Nikki gave it away. Gone was the script of Leonid, the only physical presence she could have of him.

He walked away with the manuscript, and though Nikki could not bring herself to care, Leonid was always slipping away.

[robininthelabyrinth]

AU where the Nie clan has dragon blood in their lineage, and usually it just manifests as bad temper and a generally martial inclination. Except, once in a rare while, generations apart, an actual dragon will be born among them... (aka nobody really expected that NHS was the latest Nie dragon).

The Nie sect’s ancestors were butchers; that lowly heritage is well known and widely celebrated, much to the not-entirely-concealed disdain of some of the more refined, gentlemanly sects. Butchers at home and butchers at war – everyone knows that.

What’s rather less well known is that the third sect leader, colloquially known among his descendants as ‘that idiot’, rather heroically saved an imperial princess in battle and then – and this was why he was that idiot – married her. She was a proper princess, too, the true-born daughter of the emperor; other sects might see that as a good thing, since for all that cultivation sects saw themselves as being above petty things like the politics of the common folk, a princess was still a princess.

The Nie did not.

The reason for this was quite simple. What does a cultivation style that already incorporates an increased chance of death through anger most assuredly does not need?

The blood of the eight-clawed dragon, that’s what.

Arrogant, explosive, unruly –

It was a mess.

The sixth sect leader came up with the saber halls to honor his father and grandfather – most especially his grandfather, who’d had a bad tendency towards slit-pupiled eyes when he’d been especially enraged, and whose saber had absorbed every ounce of his ferocity – and the next few generations made a point of finding especially meek daughters or sons for their children to marry, and that was that; everyone hoped that that idiot’s mistake could be diluted out of existence.

It was, for the most part. 

But every few generations, imperial blood ran true, and not only in terms of majesty or arrogance, and then the entire sect had to close its doors to the outside world and pretend with all their might that no, of course there wasn’t a rampaging beast of an especially draconic variety raging behind the extremely sturdy walls of the Unclean Realm, what nonsense that would be.

Still, if Lao Nie had to wager on one of his children being a dragon, he probably would have put money on it being his firstborn: already far too tall for his age, a brilliant prodigy with his saber, and a temper that rivaled some of the older members of the clan.

Certainly not Huaisang.

The only time that child hadn’t been a disappointment was when he was a baby: he’d been remarkably lazy even back then, sleeping more hours of the day than he didn’t even past infancy, and what had been a relief to his nursemaids quickly turned to annoyance by everyone else. It was commonly believed that such a weak and unlively child was likely to grow up to be slow-witted and dull, and, worse, the doctors confirmed his muscle tone was underdeveloped; even with a great deal of practice, he would likely always be a bit behind those his own age.

As he grew older, his penchant of sleeping twenty hours out of every day got even more noticeable, and the family largely lost interest.

Well, most of them. His older brother, who’d quietly taken on the responsibility for caring for Huaisang when no one else in the family had had the time or, truthfully, the interest in the disappointing son of an especially fortunate (unfortunate?) family maid-turned-concubine, indulged him far too much, even carrying him from place to place.

“You’re not a mule, Mingjue,” Lao Nie scolded one day, reinforcing the lesson through swipes of the flat of his saber. “Have some dignity! If Huaisang wants to go places, he can damn well walk there himself!”

Nie Mingjue bowed his head, obedient and filial in every way except for the fact that he didn’t listen; if anything, it got even worse from that point on, the boy barely being seen anywhere without a napping toddler as an accoutrement.

“Did you hear what I said?” Lao Nie roared at him.

“I’m not a mule,” Nie Mingjue recited. “If he wants to go places, he can walk there himself.”

“If you heard me and persisted regardless, you’re undisciplined,” Lao Nie said, arms crossed.

“I accept whatever punishment is appropriate,” Nie Mingjue said, and that was most irritating of all: why would his otherwise perfect eldest son insisted on being beaten once a week when all he had to do was leave that useless lump behind in his rooms, where he’d be happier anyway? It wasn’t as though Nie Huaisang even wanted to be outside: sometimes it seemed he’d only learned to talk in order to complain about how uncomfortable he was, how hot, how sweaty – and he even had the gall to keep complaining even after his older brother fetched a fan for him, like a loyal dog.

Discipline was paramount in the Nie sect; to be undisciplined is to risk being monstrous, and with their cultivation style they could not tolerate such a thing. That was why their punishments were so strict, even if the rules were relatively sparse - more principle than rule, really. But on the other hand, their family had always been the sort that would rather break than bend: if Nie Mingjue wanted to pay for his willfulness by accepting punishments, he was entitled to do so.

Still – there was punishment, and there was wanton cruelty; at some point, one of the men in the punishment hall abandoned the former for the latter. He was a popular man, the son of another sect’s diplomat that had married a close cousin of the main family and stayed in Qinghe; for some reason he’d developed an intense dislike of Nie Mingjue – a dislike which was mutual, and likely to cause trouble in the future when Nie MIngjue became Sect Leader, but which currently put Nie MIngjue in a very bad position given the man’s status as his elder.

Lao Nie only learned about the whole matter much later, and when he did he was so spitting mad he grabbed his saber and would have spitted the man on it, cousin or no cousin, if he hadn’t been held back; but at the time he had no idea, busy as he was defending the borders of his lands against troubles caused by that ever-smiling bastard Wen Ruohan.

When he did hear about it, though, he was infuriated: his son and heir had been beaten three times the usual amount, a compilation of a thousand little offenses that could only technically be termed breaches of discipline, forced to complete several dozen of their most demanding exercises, and then made to kneel outside on the hottest day of the year; to no one’s surprise, he had eventually collapsed rather than yield and beg for mercy, his skin cracking and lips starting to bleed as his consciousness left him.

He was after all a Nie. 

Who knows how far that bastard might have gone, his eyes fixed on a prize he would never inherit with his outsider’s surname, if Nie Huaisang hadn’t been there, tucked away curled up underneath a shady tree and made to watch despite Nie Mingjue’s request that he be sent back to his rooms.

Those who were near enough to see – and Lao Nie had plans to punish the whole lot of them for not having interfered: what was the point of a clan motto that prioritized justice and suppression of evil no matter what the consequences if they would allow it to happen in their own damn home? – said that it didn’t happen at once, that there was a pause when Nie Mingjue’s body hit the ground; perhaps it was only that Nie Huaisang was slow to realized what was happening.

Perhaps it just took a while for the change to happen.

Either way, everyone agreed on what happened next: the unfurling of a serpentine body twice the length of a fully grown man, although only about as wide around as a goat, a red-eyed glare that was backed with teeth and claw, and a roar of challenge at anyone who even thought about pulling Nie Mingjue’s body away from the center of those coils.

Apparently Nie Huaisang had needed all that sleep because he was still growing. Who would have known?

It was the youngest full transformation they’d ever had in their clan by far. The boy hadn’t even reached the age of three!

“If he’s stopped sweating, he has heatstroke,” Lao Nie told his apparently not useless younger son, having been urgently summoned to the training field. “He needs to be taken inside at once; you’re only making things worse.”

Nie Huaisang bared his teeth at him, and Lao Nie bared his teeth right back.

He might not be a dragon, but his son’s blood had come from somewhere.

“I am your father,” he snarled. “You will listen to me and obey. You hear me? You will get off of him this instant. If he doesn’t get water soon, he will die.”

Lao Nie will never know if it was the demand for filial piety or the threat to Nie Mingjue’s life that got Nie Huaisang to comply – he suspected the latter – but Nie Huaisang gave in and backed off, allowing the clan’s medics to rush over and take Nie Mingjue away.

Lao Nie looked at the dragon, thinking to himself that the vastness of the underground caverns beneath the Unclean Realm weren’t for nothing: if this was what a two-year-old dragon looked like, he’d be a full-fledged calamity when full grown.

His saber itched in his palm at the thought, but he ignored it. The embarrassing yao-derived portion of their bloodline aside, the Nie sect set itself against evil, and Nie Huaisang was lazy, not evil.

“This is going to be trouble,” he finally said. “It can’t be allowed to get out.”

You can’t go out, he meant, but maybe Nie Huaisang in all his laziness wouldn’t mind being restricted to the Unclean Realm. Maybe, if they were lucky, they could teach him to like paintings and books instead, since he could never be allowed out to join a proper battlefield.

He’d be locked at home forever, unless the Sect Leader decided otherwise - and that meant Lao Nie would be the one responsible for it.

Ancestor or not, damn that idiot. 

In the end, Nie Huaisang didn’t respond to him at all, merely took to the air – flying must be inherent, since he didn’t seem especially bothered by what should be something brand new – and headed inwards, aiming towards…

His brother’s bedroom.

Not really a surprise, that.

A bit of a surprise that he could find it so quickly, though, from such an unfamiliar angle…

Lao Nie’s eye twitched.

If his stubborn older son had known about this, he was going to wish he’d died of heatstroke.

[raeynbowboi]

Bob’s Burgers 10th Anniversary Retrospective

After ten years, Bob, Linda, and the Kids are just as delightfully wacky and endearing as they ever were, and show no signs of slowing down. So I wanted to put together an ultra mega review of the series. I’ll give an opinion on main and recurring characters, as with a cast this big, there’s been a lot of endearing characters to grace the show over the years. However, I will only be counting characters that have appeared more than once. After ten years, there’s been some real gems, and some real misfires. So, I’ll be counting down my top 10 best episodes, and the bottom 10 worst episodes. I’ll also go through as a Highlight Reel, by picking a best and worst episode of each season, as well as crowning the Best Season with the most good episodes.

Bob Belcher

Honestly, Bob was a very easy character to mess up. He’s the straight man to his wacky family’s antics. But the show does a really great job making Bob simple and lowkey without making him boring or a stick in the mud. He may be resistant to weird things, but he puts up with it anyway to make his family happy.  While he’s the serious straight man, they don’t fail to give Bob his own eccentricities and quirks that make him relatable and funny in his own way. Whether he’s making things talk, getting weirdly excited about Thanksgiving, or his awkward way of speaking, Bob is genuinely a good and relatable character. It’s also nice to see that Bob is a great husband and a loving father. He and Linda argue from time to time, but they’re not trapped in a loveless marriage for the kid’s sake like most shows. And even shows where that’s not a selling point like American Dad, Bob shows more remorse for things like forgetting their anniversary than Stan does for Francine. Bob is supportive, loving, and forgiving. Which is just amazing to watch. The times when his kids really need him, he’s there for them, and he helps them through their problems. While Bob might fight with and get mad with or annoyed by his family, Bob never treats them like people he’s stuck with. Frankly, Bob blows most animated TV dads out of the water. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Stan or Francine give quiet supportive talks to Steve or Hayley ever in American Dad. Peter used to at least try to be a decent father, but now is a negligent toddler. Likewise, Homer used to be a great father who cared about his kids, but later seasons have really stepped away from the family angle the Simpsons used to have. In a sea of adult animated families that are toxic and destructive, Bob’s genuine love for his family came as a breath of fresh air.

Linda Belcher

Linda is by far the best Adult Animation TV mom there is. For one thing, she’s funnier than Francine, Lois, and Marge combined. But more importantly, she’s not the butt of the joke when it happens. I can only really remember laughing at Francine when they make dumb blonde jokes with her, but Linda’s jokes come from her character. She could have easily been the gender inverted Homer or Peter, but the writers are careful to make her gullible, trusting, and goofy without making her a moron. When the kids do something wrong, Linda busts out the tough mom act and you genuinely believe that the kids are in trouble. She’s not faking it. She’s not off in her own little world. She’s a bit of a goofy dreamer, but she’s able to be the tough disciplinarian when she needs to be. Her relationship with Bob is also better than most adult animation wives. She’s more independent than the other housewives, and even though her job is working with her husband, it never feels like it robs Linda of her own power, autonomy, and freedom. But the best thing about Linda is that I think most people can agree, she has an extremely strong and charming personality that endears us to her.

Tina Belcher

I really wish I could say I liked Tina more. She’s a creative romantic, just like me. I should love her. But her monotone deliveries and awkwardness isn’t as endearing as Bob’s. I like her better in episodes like Teen-A Witch and Broadcast Wagstaff School News where she has a bit stronger of a personality. But unfortunately, Tina is my least favorite member of the Belcher family, which isn’t to say that I hate her, she just doesn’t shine as bright as the rest of her family. She’s just not very funny or interesting on her own. But on the plus side, at least I don’t find Tina to be annoying or terrible except in the rare bad episode.

Gene Belcher

Gene is the only member of the family that can regularly get my dad to laugh, and with good reason. If he wasn’t such a well of nonsequitor punchlines, Gene would probably be the worst member of the family, but boy howdy do those random jokes pick up the slack. Gene is genuinely hilarious, even if I’d only rank him above Tina in terms of favoritism. However, I find that most Gene-centric episodes to be lackluster or below average. I think Gene’s best episode is probably Y Tu Ga-Ga Tambien, but of the best episodes, none really come to mind that specifically star Gene. Gene is really better suited for a supporting role, and his times as the star showcase why comic reliefs aren’t the main character. They’re support characters for a reason. That’s not to say Gene-centric episodes are terrible. They just tend to range from about average to bad. Though Y Tu Ga-Ga Tambien is a pretty good one.

Louise Belcher

Bob and Linda saved the best for last because Louise is the breakout star of the show. Funny, interesting, and the focus of many of the better episodes, Louise stands proudly on the first place podium with Linda in 2nd and Bob taking 3rd place. I think Louise’s strengths are especially due to her standoffish and naughty personality, which has lent itself to a lot of good character growth episodes. Season 10 Louise seems a lot more mature than Season 1 Louise. I think Louise works because while she does often have clever or sneaky solutions to problems, they don’t forget that she’s 9, so unlike Stewie, her age does present hurdles and barriers to her schemes and plans.

The Best and Worst of Bob’s Burgers

#10 WORST: Pro-Tiki/Con-Tiki (S6e15)

Why couldn’t Warren Fitzgerald just put that $100,000 into advertisements or to help Bob buy better equipment for his restaurant? My biggest issue with this episode isn’t the episode itself, it’s that the ending makes no sense. Warren wants to help Bob because he has a form of riches Warren lacks, and Bob doesn’t want a corporate sponsor to make changes to his brand. But why can’t Warren just give Bob the money to make choices he wants to make? They could stay as business partners, but Bob doesn’t have to sacrifice his personal vision for the restaurant. It’s just really frustrating when they’re both being too stupid and stubborn to see the obvious solution in front of their faces.

#10 BEST: Teen-a Witch (S7e03)

One of Tina’s best episodes, as someone who had a goth phase myself and dabbled a tiny amount in ‘witchcraft’, this episode brings back memories of high school and the desire to make the world what I wanted it to be. But on top of that, Tina with a backbone is when she really shines as a character, mostly because it means her humor isn’t being derived from her being awkward.

#9 WORST: Live and Let Fly (S9e05)

Mr. Frond embarrasses the kids, and they team up with Up-Skirt Kurt to get revenge against his sister and Mr. Frond. I’m not a fan of Kurt, so I already don’t care much about his feud with his sister, but I also just find the episode kind of boring. I don’t care about Kurt, I don’t care about his feud, and the kids call off their revenge, so that ends up not mattering either. Even Bob and Linda’s side plot is only middle-of-the-road quality for Bob’s Burgers.

#9 BEST: Wharf Horse/World Wharf II (S4e21-22)

The very first two-part episode Bob’s Burgers ever had, the season 4 finale is a great watching experience. It has some fun songs, funny character exchanges, suspenseful drama, and some heartfelt moments. It feels like a short movie, and that’s a good thing for a two-part episode to do. Even Fanny and Felix are interesting villains. But even after everything Felix did, I don’t find myself loathing him in later episodes, and that’s a hard thing to accomplish.

#8 WORST: Tina-Rannosaurus Wrecks (S3e07)

This is the only bad Tina episode where the problem isn’t Tina herself. My biggest issue with this episode is more just the subject matter. Bob lies for insurance reasons about who was driving his car, and the entire episode is just Bob and Tina digging a deeper and deeper hole for themselves. The solution to the issue is clever enough to redeem the episode somewhat, but the majority of the watching experience is just kind of an awkward dance of watching these two getting tangled up in a web of lies.

#8 BEST: The Taking of Funtime One Two Three (S9e02)

Bar none, this is the single best ‘Heist’ episode of Bob’s Burgers, and it’s kind of crazy that Bob’s Burgers has actually built a repertoire to where I can make a list of ‘heist’ episodes as an archetype. This one feels the most like an actual heist movie, and the ending is legitimately clever and unexpected. But even more than that, if you’re paying attention, you can see the twist before the characters even reveal it. That is the kind of tight writing that makes the list for best episodes.

#7 WORST: A Fish Called Tina (S10e12)

Tina spends an episode trying way too hard to make someone like her, to the point that she almost humiliates a 4th grader in public just so she can live out some fantasy. It’s really uncomfortable and sickening to watch Tina do this. This will be a recurring issue with Tina’s low-point episodes. There’s nothing fun about watching a character make a complete idiot out of themselves by coming on too strong. It even makes me groan when Kaylie shows up in another Season 10 episode because I don’t want to have to think about this awful episode.

#7 BEST: Stand By Gene (S6e12)

Something about this episode really just brings back memories of my childhood. Memories of walking through the outdoors, just exploring and wanting to find things. The characters are funny, and Bob and Linda’s relationship is put to the test. Plus, I loved that for the entire episode, you don’t know how it’ll end. It really makes this a personal favorite and one of the episodes I knew had to make it on my list.

#6 WORST: The Grand Mama-Pest Hotel (S7e13)

Linda ruins things for Tina by being an overbearing annoyance. Are you noticing a trend with Bob’s Burgers’ worst episodes? I don’t like it when good characters make complete jackasses out of themselves in the name of ‘humor’. It’s not funny. It’s annoying and makes me dislike them. Thankfully, the worst of it is only in the latter half of the 2nd act and the entire third act, but Linda’s behavior just makes me cringe and ask why they had to do Linda dirty like this? It just puts me even more squarely on the side that Tina is entirely in the right and I don’t want to deal with Lind either.

#6 BEST: Broadcast Wagstaff School News (S3e12)

From Tina at her lowest point to Tina at her best, Broadcast Wagstaff School News is my favorite episode of the first 5 seasons. Tina’s funny and engaging, Gene is absolutely shining as Little Bob, and while Louise and Linda play supporting roles in this episode, they’re still funny as well. Plus, the mystery is a good one, and this episode is even referenced in later seasons.

#5 WORST: Mazel-Tina (S4e13)

Tina ruins Tammy’s birthday and steals her party. This is Tina at rock bottom. Tina is so despicable, cruel, and selfish in this episode that it reminds me that behind that creative awkward girl is a selfish brat who doesn’t care if she hurts other people if she can live out her fantasies. If other episodes didn’t rescue Tina from being so unlikable, I probably would hate Tina as a character entirely for her behavior in this episode.

#5 BEST: The Silence of the Louise (S8e02)

Movie parodies are some of the best, and The Silence of the Louise is the queen of all the movie parodies. When Mr. Frond’s therapy dolls are mutilated, and the school staff calls off the waterpark trip until the culprit is caught, Louise teams up with psycho Millie to figure out whodunnit. This is also one of the first time Millie wasn’t strictly an antagonist, and she genuinely felt like someone who could be Louise’s friend someday.

#4 WORST: Boywatch (S8e16)

Tina ruins things for other people by coming on too strong. The only reason this is ranked higher than Mozel-Tina is because in that episode, she just wanted to be at the party, and just kind of ended up as the star of the party and let it go to her head, whereas here, she is actively ruining things for other people in pursuit of her own delusions and fantasies. Tina has no desire to be a junior lifeguard, but cute boys causes her to behave like a troublemaker. She’s entirely out of character, and her teammates’ hate for her behavior is something I agree with. I don’t want to hate the main characters, so why does this show keep pushing to make Tina a nuisance who ruins experiences for other people?

#4 BEST: The Quirkducers (S7e06)

If the Silence of the Louise is the queen of film parodies, then The Quirkducers is the king. Not only is it a clever parody of The Producers, but it also has some damn good musical numbers, especially the edited end credit version. But it’s Tina’s song at the end that stands as one of my favorites of all Bob’s Burgers’ songs.

#3 WORST: Bed & Breakfast (S1e07)

If a Fish Called Tina is bad, then Bed & Breakfast is flaming garbage. Linda turns their apartment into a Bed and Breakfast, and Linda goes berserk when the guests don’t play into her expectations. This episode verges from below average to detestable as Linda goes insane and locks people in their rooms, and Louise drives a grown man to attack workers by preying on his fear. 

#3 BEST: The Hauntening (S6e03)

This is hands-down the best Halloween episode that Bob’s Burgers ever made. This show turns out some amazing holiday episodes, and this is one of the best the Belchers have to offer. I won’t dare give away anything about this episode. If you’ve seen it, you know why it’s top of the heap, and if you haven’t, then all I can say is what are you waiting for? Delayed gratification has to pay off eventually.

#2 WORST: Every Which Way But Goose (S9e14)

Tina falls in love with a goose. Who smoked crack before writing this episode, and who huffed enough paint thinner to approve this episode for production? This is the absolute dumbest concept for an episode I have ever come across. Who thought this was a good idea? I can’t even pinpoint the flaws because this entire episode is just so flawed. At least Mazel-Tina and Boywatch enrage me. This just baffles me.

#2 BEST: A Few Gurt Men (S7e11)

When Mr. Ambrose accuses Mr. Frond of stealing his yogurt from the faculty lounge, the case is brought before student court, and Louise is tasked with acting as Defense Council for Mr. Frond. One thing Bob’s Burgers does well is mysteries, and this is a good one as Louise has to figure out a way to prove Frond’s innocence. This is just an absolute personal favorite. Every character is just on point, and I get excited when the episode starts to que up.

#1 WORST: Moody Foodie (S2e07)

Did you ever want to watch the Belchers commit a felony? Then boy howdy do I have an episode for you! A picky food critic responsible for shutting down restaurants comes to Bob’s Burgers. Bob messes up the order, and a visit to the critic’s house to get him to try his burger again leads to a hostage situation with the critic tied to a chair and gagged in his own home. Words cannot describe the depth to which I hate this episode. The entire episode feels dirty and vile. I feel the need to scrub my skin raw after sitting through this episode. The instant I realize that it’s come on, I skip the the next one. I have literally only sat through this episode once. This episode disgusts me. This episode has the main character, abduct somebody in their own home. Then they take a second hostage when a mailman delivers the guy’s package. Luckily, Bob’s Burgers has a lot of good episodes to make up for this one bad egg, but this episode enrages me to the point that if the family wasn’t so charming and endearing most of the time, I might have stopped watching based just on this one episode.

#1 BEST: The Bleakening: Part 1 & 2 (S8e06-07)

The first time I saw these episodes, they played back to back without any credits in between them, and I thought it was one episode, and I didn’t even realize it was the length of two episodes. Between the amazing songs, the brain bending twists, the creative creature, the dark elements that contrast the bright lights of the holidays, and the uplifting ending, this pair of episodes stands paramount as the single greatest viewing experience that Bob’s Burgers has to offer.

Favorite Friend of the Kids: Regular-Sized Rudy

First appearing in Carpe Museum, Rudy came back in The Kids Rob a Train, where he has remained a friend of the kids since. Rudy was the first to join the kids if you don’t count Andy and Ollie who seem to dip in and back out as to whether they’re included in the friend group. Rudy was thus the first to be made a main member of the kids’ friend group.

Favorite Schoolyard Seven: Jocelyn

The Schoolyard Seven is the friend group of the three Belchers, Jimmy Jr., Zeke, Tammy, and Jocelyn. Not counting the Belchers, it was a close call between Zeke and Jocelyn. Tammy and Jimmy Jr. tend to be typecast as serving one niche thing, but Zeke and Jocelyn are often the comedic gold. However, while Zeke is more interesting of the two, I just enjoy Jocelyn too much to not give her the win. Even if Jocelyn’s humor is just a walking dumb blonde trope, like Gene, Jocelyn has a knack for funny one-liners. If the groups has another name, I’m not privy to it.

Favorite Friend of the Family: Micky

Though he’s less connected to the family now, Micky has been a friend to the Belchers since Bob Day Afternoon, and returning in Bob Fires the Kids. Since his introduction, Micky has gotten a job at Wonder Wharf, where he has remained since.

Favorite Recurring Villain: Logan Bush

First appearing in Ears-y Rider, Logan has been a fun and interesting frenemy for Louise to match wits with. In a show where most other villains are the same age as the main characters (Millie, Tammy, Chloe, Jimmy Pesto, Hugo) Logan stands out as a legitimate bully. Yet, even he was willing to work with Louise in Mother-Daughter Laser Razor, showing that there is wiggle room for the two of them to even join forces and spread havoc together.

Favorite Tina Love Interest: Duncan

Earnest if not a little awkward, Duncan seems like a sweet boy for Tina to possibly end up with. Sasha Whiteman is another character I could easily see being a good boyfriend to Tina because his quick wit and social graces make him a great foil to Tina, and he excels where Tina falls short. Zeke has a good chance to be a good boyfriend, but Tina still spits his name when she greets him, so I doubt she’d take interest in him unless something happens to change their dynamic. I liked Josh, but now that he’s said he doesn’t like her anymore and she agreed that she feels the same, I doubt we’re going to see them date further in the future.

Favorite Side Character: Nat Kinkle the Limo Driver

First appearing in Season 8 episode 8 V for Valentine-detta, I must not be the only fan of Nat’s because she made two appearances in the 10th season, in episode 1 The Ring (But Not Scary) and episode 17 Just the Trip. Currently with only 3 appearances, she’s still only a side character, but I get the feeling that like with Rudy, Courtney, Darrel and Alex before her, Nat will keep becoming a more frequent character. She just has a great vibe, and her charisma is intoxicating. She meshes great with the family, making her an absolute delight to watch.

Favorite Bit Character: Marshmallow

Although she’s appeared in multiple episodes since her introduction in Sheesh, Cab Bob, Marshmallow has never gotten much more than a couple lines, with her biggest role being in The Bleakening where she had more to say. She was also the first major LGBT+ recurring character on the show, which also made her a joy to see, whenever she returned to Bob’s Burgers.

Favorite Headcanon: Gene is Genderfluid

Gene’s jokes have been centered on his gender or sexuality since the first season finale. A joke once in a while is one thing, but ten years of the same sorts of jokes tells the sharp viewer that there’s more to it than just a running gag. With how many jokes have Gene talk about having boobs, synching his cycle, or calling himself Tina and Louise’s sister or Bob and Linda’s daughter, it’s my opinion that Gene is genderfluid, or possibly even transgender. The only reason I say genderfluid over a transgirl is because he still also addresses himself as a boy or a man as much as he does girl jokes.

Best Song: Twinkly Lights (Ms. XXX-Mas)

Not only does Toddrick Hall absolutely kill this performance, but I also love the meaning of the song about POC inclusivity and pride in the LGBT+ community. As the final song in The Bleakening, it’s one hell of a closing number, and I can’t help but dance in my seat whenever it plays. I’ve even listened to it independent from watching the show, and honor I don’t bestow on every song.

Best Episode Archetypes:

The Best Heist: The Taking of Funtime One Two Three

The Belcher kids have stolen a number of things. Chocolate, a bounce house, but the absolute creme de la creme of their heists is the procuring of the Dunebuggy from Family Funtime. When Family Funtime unplugs the macchines whenver the kids get too many tickets from them, the kids decide to pull off the heist of a century to make off with the biggest prize of the arcade: the dune buggy.

The Kids Tell An Anthology: Moms, Lies, and Videotapes

From the Gayle Tales to The Handyman Can, the kids have told a number of anthology stories, but the most impressive of the bunch is their stories of the mother’s day plays into three interesting stories. Though true to form, Gene’s is the weakest of the three, as his usually are. I don’t recall any time when his anthology was the best of the kids’, but then, Gene is not the most creative of the three children. His best story is probably in The Frond Files where his story’s world is colorful and fun to observe.

Best Musical Episode: The Bleakening

Not only do these episodes have a lot of musical numbers, but there is not a single one that doesn’t hit a home run. But more importantly, the entire episode is a musical, with each number helping to tie and bridge together the narrative, which is the entire purpose of musical numbers in a proper musical, which makes this the single best musical episode mainly because it’s the only episode that’s a true blue musical.

Best Holiday Episode: The Hauntening

With The Bleakening already taking the top spot for musical episodes, that leaves the Miss Congeniality of the holiday episodes to take the crown. I didn’t spoil anything about this episode above, and I won’t say a thing about it now. This episode is solid gold.

Best Film Parody: The Quirkducers

Not only is this episode clever in the way it uses its source material, but the family all have moments to shine despite the stars being Louise and Gene. The show also makes good use of the Schoolhouse Seven (the main group of the Belcher Kids, Jimmy and Zeke, and Tammy and Jocelyn), and each of them brings something great to the episode. It undoubtedly earned its place in the top 10, and will likely hold its place for years to come.

[theunderdogwrites]

In Defense of Marilyn Manson

Just kidding.

This is another one of those ‘if you live under a rock, you might not know what is going on’ pieces. But because this story appears to be unfolding daily, I’d think you’ve heard a murmur here or there even if you haven’t really paid too much attention to it because for many, I think this may fall into the “that guy has been a messed-up weirdo for years so I’m not surprised” category.

Please note that in NO WAY I am making fun of this situation, but I learned a long time ago that I require a certain amount of humor to be able to digest much of what this world presents to me.

As always, let me give you the Coles Notes version with the hopes you will go and do your own reading as well.

On February 1 actress Evan Rachel Wood posted this on her Instagram:

"The name of my abuser is Brian Warner, also known to the world as Marilyn Manson. He started grooming me when I was a teenager and horrifically abused me for years. I was brainwashed and manipulated into submission. I am done living in fear of retaliation, slander or blackmail. I am here to expose this dangerous man and call out the many industries that have enabled him, before he ruins any more lives. I stand with the many victims who will no longer be silent."

Quick history lesson – They started dating in 2007 when she was 18 and he was 34 and were engaged for a brief time in 2010.

This was Manson’s response to what she wrote:

"Obviously, my art and my life have long been magnets for controversy, but these recent claims about me are horrible distortions of reality. My intimate relationships have always been entirely consensual with like-minded partners. Regardless of how - and why - others are now choosing to misrepresent the past, that is the truth."

Since the original statement on February 1 a number of women have come forward with stories of their own ranging from physical and emotional abuse to human trafficking. And everyday something new is revealed. Evan Rachel Woods is feverishly posting on her Insta-Story and is slowly burying Manson in an ocean of consequences. She isn’t “fired up” or “a woman scorned”, she is a victim rising above the shame she has felt and the fear of what others will say about her to tell her story and encourage others to do the same. She is the voice that started the ball rolling. The ball that is about to crush Marilyn Manson.

Whenever I write stuff that is currently being heavily featured in the media, I always dive into articles so I can get as much information as possible. But more importantly, I plunge my sensitive little soul into the murky depths known as “the comments section”. I do this because unlike those polished, finished pieces the comments section will give you a better idea of what your fellow human beings think and feel about the topic at hand. And it is never polished or even polite. And often not for the faint at heart. In case you didn’t already know – people can be quite terrible.

The comments section is the modern-day gladiator pit. Only most (not all) of the participants are not ripped, athletic warriors but rather drooling basement dwellers with one hand down their pants (not gender specific by the way) and the other hand maltreating the letters on their keyboard.

Side note: Look, I am not the grammar police as I often just push past all the warnings from the Gestapo editing program in Microsoft Word. BUT I know the value of proper spelling, well placed punctuation and valid attempts to appear smarter than a domesticated turkey by making sure sentences are well-thought out and complete. Raising your argument doesn’t mean USING ALL CAPS AND ABUSING THESE THINGS -> !!!

I just deleted three paragraphs going over the recent “reckoning” that has taken place in the past few years with regards to sexual and physical abuse accusations against (mostly) men in positions of some kind of power. I eliminated all that writing because I started to tumble off topic. I’m not writing about all the dicks now getting their comeuppance, but rather the reactions to it being Marilyn Manson’s turn in the chamber.

Victim shaming is sadly a real thing.

The easiest way I can explain this to you – if a person gets pickpocketed and then blamed because they should’ve known better than to carry their wallet in their back pocket.

Evan Rachel Woods and others have come out to accuse Manson of some pretty appalling acts of abuse and what I’ve found to be the biggest reaction is, “How did they not know he was a bad guy? His music is so graphic and they thought it was all an act? Why did they stay so long?”. As innocent as those questions might seem, and I say that because our brains don’t always serve us or others well, it is a form of discrediting those women. Let’s be honest here… it’s hard to look at Marilyn Manson and his art form and not say, “What the fuck, this guy has bad idea written all over him!”. I feel that is a perfectly reasonable response, but that is where it should end. I think it is fair to pause and attempt to understand the choices of others, but it’s heartless to minimize their experience by placing blame on them for a situation we couldn’t possibly understand if it has never happened to us.

And like I’ve quoted before: People only understand from their level of perception. But that doesn’t stop them from laying on the judgement and damaging already fragile individuals with their inability to show compassion for a fellow human being. Reading through comment sections isn’t just maddening, it’s disappointing and sad but also a real look into how awful many people feel about themselves… to the point where they seem to derive some pleasure or satisfaction from condemning a rape victim for wearing a short skirt and getting drunk.

So… we have to touch on this to be balanced: innocent until proven guilty. Only these days it’s an automatic trial by media with the public acting as judge, jury and executioner. This is where “cancel culture” steps in and within days can destroy an entire career / life. I am not a fan of cancel culture. It does not give people a chance to learn from their mistakes or make amends as it immediately harms their very existence. Often times even before any proof has surfaced. I don’t think I need to tell you how dangerous this is… the fact that just an accusation could ruin your life.

Let me make this clear: if someone comes forward and claims they’ve been sexually assaulted/abused, they need to be taken seriously and not dismissed based upon the circumstances, their gender identity, the color of their skin, their economic position or profession or the person they’re accusing. In turn, the individual being accused should be given time to address the claims before the public begins demolishing their life.

A reoccurring comment in almost all these cases where someone comes forward and alleges abuse YEARS after it happened, is – “Why did they wait so long to come forward?”.

Is this a fair question? Sure. And I feel it is asked because our brain needs to find a way to understand the information we are being given. Because while we’d all like to think that if in the same situation we’d be unfuckable with and anyone who dared to bring damage to our doorstep would immediately suffer the consequences, we actually cannot predict our reaction. There are too many unknown variables to be able to confidently say we’d instantly speak up and seek retribution.

The fear of not being believed. The fear of being blamed. The fear of rejection. The fear of retaliation from the person being accused. The fear of being forever defined by your experience. The fear.

It does not matter the why, what matters is the chance they’ve taken by speaking up at all. Those who come forward should be embraced, not ridiculed. Not abandoned. Not criticized.

“Don’t ask why victims wait so long to speak up. Ask what systems were in place to keep them quiet”. Anonymous

I own a few Marilyn Manson CD’s. And I’ve even attended one of his concerts. Would I say I am a fan? Probably a number of years ago I was but truthfully, I’ve not paid attention to any of his music in recent years because I feel it devolved while my taste evolved. That’s not a slam against him or anyone who fancies his work, it’s more a statement on how I’ve matured and now seek out music that feels authentic to me.

The one concert I attended was opened by Courtney Love. I know, what a duo to pay money to see. Near the end of Manson’s set he made a disparaging remark about Love and trashed her music. At the time he was wearing some pretty hefty platform shoes so it made it all the more hilarious when from out of nowhere she charged like a rhino and tackled him to the stage; throwing punches at his head all the way down. When he finally was able to get up, he announced the show was over. There would be no encore and then him and his bandmates trashed the stage in a temper tantrum worthy of a toddler Napoleon. Still makes me laugh to this day.

Shoutout to Evan Rachel Wood and her most recent movie ‘Kajillionaire’. Watched it on demand about a month ago and it’s a brilliant comedy that will also pull at your heart. I highly recommend you give it a chance.

Check out the trailer:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xiMPCevu8Wk