#best wishes and many call gorillas upon ye

[asktoxicgriefer]

HEY HEY funny wood people!!

AHEM

Watz The Problem With Leafy Crowbar Manz?

(is that a good woodsmen impression?)

"Bhut ifhtz trouh!"

"ST0P 4SK1NG TH3M SH1T YOU WE1RD0S TH3Y D0N'T KNOW WHAT TH3Y'RE 0N ABOUT ST0P 1T!!!"

[grcwingstrcng]

Potentially Recyclable, aka on my portrayal of Gabriel Agreste

I’ll preface this by saying canon Gabriel can choke.

That said, my Gabriel might as well be a whole different character. I’ll write things that I feel are the most important to know about him here.

Some quick bullet point things about my Gabe, if you don’t feel like reading this giant post.

Will never willingly and/or knowingly endanger Nathalie or Adrien.

Has no problems with Marinette whatsoever, in fact, he thinks she is a nice girl, and very talented.

Was a hero for some time, first using the Peacock Miraculous, and then the Butterfly one.

Dealing with so many negative emotions as he does is gradually desensitizing him to things. Each day it feels like he cares less about how far he might have to go, but all of the above does not change.

Quits in the occasion of a reveal (his, Adrien’s, Marinette’s, it doesn’t matter which) or upon stopping to realize his actions are bound to cause harm to the few people he truly holds dear.

A big part of keeping Adrien isolated is out of fear, after losing Emilie, and knowing that the city is dangerous since he was a hero as well. That does not make it right, and I welcome muses to call him the fuck out on this.

He’s more willing to allow Adrien to go out than in canon, though not by much. Mentioning Marinette will be there is definitely going to make it easier for him to say yes.

He wasn’t born into privilege. He never met his father, or cared to, seeing as the man abandoned his mother upon finding out she was pregnant. His mother was a seamstress, and made just enough money to provide the bare minimum for the both of them. Gabriel’s interest in fashion comes from watching her work.

Because Gabriel knows how hard his mother works to provide him with a good life, he values hard work immensely. Talent only gets one so far, and so he dedicates himself to whatever task he takes on.

Even so, had Gabriel never met Emilie, despite all of his effort, he would have never had the opportunity to start his fashion brand. It was Emilie who had connections, namely Audrey, and it was that which made it possible for him to ascend, allowing him to give his mother a comfortable life until her death shortly before Adrien was born.

They were always very busy, often having to travel, but they were loving parents. They did their best to make sure Adrien had one of his parents around unless it really couldn’t be arranged - and for those occasions, there was Nathalie and Gorilla.

One day, they found the Peacock and Butterfly Miraculous on a trip. Following their discovery, Emilie and Gabriel made use of the powers granted by those to fight crime in Paris at night, until the Peacock Miraculous Gabriel used was damaged in a fight.

They were warned that using a damaged Miraculous could have unpredictable effects, and thus decided to retire the item. As Adrien was more attached to his mother, Gabriel took on the role of hero on his own, this time with the Butterfly Miraculous that used to be Emilie’s.

If that was all, things would have been fine. But when Gabriel ran into a fight he couldn’t possibly win on his own, Emilie felt the need to step in, creating a Sentimonster to help him. Since all she felt was a slight headache, she figured it would be fine to aid Gabriel on emergencies, and Gabriel trusted her judgment on the matter.

At first, Emilie would only feel sick after making use of her powers. But with time, her condition worsened even if she didn’t touch it for days. It was only then that they decided to put an end to their hero days - but it was too late to stop Emilie’s illness from progressing.

Gabriel refused to give up on her. He made arrangements to keep her in stable condition as he went deep into research on any way he could revert the damage.

Eventually, he did find something. The power of creation and the power of destruction. If he had that, he would be able to make a wish come true. And for Emilie, he would.

---

All of that was to cover their backstory on this blog. Now I’ll get into the important things that are most relevant to interactions.

At the start of the show, Gabriel cares about exactly three people: Nathalie, Adrien, and Emilie. With Adrien and Marinette becoming friends, and having a connection with her through fashion, Gabriel comes to care about her as well, though significantly less than the others.

He keeps Adrien isolated after Emilie’s “death” out of fear of losing him. This is by no means an excuse, only an explanation. By all means, someone should point it out to him that this isn’t good for Adrien and he’s being ridiculous and, yes, abusive.

As Adrien and Marinette grow closer, instead of trying to keep them apart, Gabriel appreciates that Adrien seems much happier, and Marinette is welcomed at their home whenever she wants.

My Gabriel will NEVER willingly and/or knowingly cause harm (physical or otherwise) to Adrien, or Nathalie. That means that if a reveal occurs, any combination of the following might happen  

a) he tells Adrien why he wants the Miraculous 

b) surrenders his own Miraculous to him

c) turns himself in

d) helps them fight crime as a means of reparation

e) something decided between the muns

It also means that Chat Blanc never happened as it did in canon.

In fact, most likely, my Gabriel would have quit being HawkMoth at the latest when Nathalie first used the Peacock Miraculous. He is not losing anyone else he cares about if he can help it.

[hermionemonica]

Christmas for the Cat

Happy Christmas to my wonderful fandom family @flashflashitsash, @gryffindorcls and @lalunaoscura!! I wrote this little gift for you guys and I hope you like it! I made it as fluffy and cheery as I could, so enjoy! And have a great day!

(I own none of the characters. This is merely a fan fiction.)

AO3 link

My Lady: Did your father agree? My Prince: Took a bit of persuasion, but he finally gave in. My Prince: I'M COMING TONIGHT! My Lady: Oh that’s such a relief. And I'm so excited! My Prince: Me too! Can't wait to see you! My Lady: Me neither.

Adrien flopped onto his bed. This year, he was going to spend Christmas with the best people in his life.   “Ugh, that lovey-dovey grin is back on your face,” snickered Plagg. Adrien turned his head to look his kwami right in the eye. “Are you telling me that you aren't eager to meet your sugarcube tonight?” It was impossible to miss the purplish colour that came over the kwami’s cheeks as he spun the other way round. “At least I'm not being a sappy kitten like you.” Adrien laughed as he sat up in his bed. “Hey, Plagg.” “What?” he replied in an annoyed hiss. “Happy Christmas.” Plagg turned around with an almost-smile on his face. He floated over to Adrien and hugged his chest. “Happy Christmas to you too Adrien,” he purred.

Adrien skipped with happiness as he made his way down the stairs. At the doorway, he was stopped by Nathalie.   “Mr Agreste wishes to know if you have finished all your work for the day,” she spoke in her stoic, business-like voice. “Yes Nathalie,” Adrien sighed, “You may tell him that I have.” She looked up from her tablet as she assumed a less formal stance, although her face remained as emotionless as ever. “You know your father is not proud of your behaviour.” “Let's be honest Nathalie,” Adrien said with a Chat-esque drawl in his voice, “Father will never be proud of me, no matter how much I try. And this time, I am not even breaking any rules. Also, not that it matters to him, but I'd much rather spend Christmas with people who actually show their love for each other. Now if you'll excuse me, I believe I have somewhere to be.” Saying so, Adrien made his way out of the doors of the mansion, towards where his bodyguard waited for him in the car. He opened the car door for himself and stepped inside. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw that the Gorilla shot him a warm look in the rear-view mirror.

It didn't take long for them to reach the Dupain-Cheng bakery. Before entering, Adrien peeked through the glass door to see if Marinette was in the bakery, and luckily she was. She was working at the counter with her back to the door, and she was alone. Stealthy as a cat, Adrien let himself in. “Surprise!” Adrien shouted as he pounced upon Marinette and wrapped her in a hug from behind. “Whoa!” she exclaimed as she slightly leaned forwards under Adrien's weight. “I can never understand how you manage to get in without making a sound, not even ringing the bell on the door!” “It’s the cat's secret m’ lady,” he whispered, nuzzling into the crook of her neck.   “Hello Marinette,” Plagg zoomed out of Adrien's pocket and greeted her with a little bow. He was always extra courteous in front of Marinette, and Adrien still couldn't decipher why. “Nice to see you again Plagg,” Marinette greeted back. “Tikki is in my room upstairs, maybe you'd like to join her there?” “I think I'd rather stay away from both of you for now,” he shot a snide look at Adrien. “Just admit that you want to spend time with Tikki,” Adrien hissed, at which Plagg snickered and phased through the ceiling. Marinette turned her attention back to the boy who was still draped around her. “I didn't know you were going to be here so early,” she said with a giggle. “Nobody else is here yet.” “I missed you,” he breathed in her ear, making her erupt into a fit of giggles. “So,” Marinette turned around in Adrien's arms, “as you can see, I'm working right now. What are you going to do till I'm done?” “What are you making?” Adrien asked, trying to get a peek at the counter behind her. “Cookies. Dad already made macaroons and croissants for all of us, but I thought cookies would be nice.” “Can I help?” Adrien asked with the excitement of a five-year-old.   Marinette reached up and ruffled his hair affectionately. “Do you even know how to make cookies?”   “You can teach me!” he straightened up and placed a hand over his heart. “I assure you, I am a very fast learner!” Adrien's excitement was so adorable that Marinette could not refuse him. Besides, it would be fun, right?   “Alright, let's do it,” she said. “I've already prepared the dough, so what is left is to shape the cookies, decorate them, and of course bake them. I am going to start off with a section of the dough, and roll it like-" “Princess,” Adrien interrupted. “Yes?” “Can you show me, please?” Marinette laughed a little. Of course, she was just giving him verbal instructions, and it must be difficult to understand for someone who had never done this before. “Okay, so I take a section of the dough like this,” she tore off a bit from the dough, and Adrien did the same, “and then I roll it with- hold on,” she walked over to the shelf under the sink where there was an assortment of items. Rummaging a little through them, she found what she was looking for. “Here,” she said, handing it to him, “you can have this smaller rolling pin. This used to be mine when I was younger and could not handle the bigger one. I figured since this is your first time, you might be more at ease with this.” Adrien’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “Aww, it's pink!” “What else did you expect, kitty?” Marinette giggled. Marinette picked up her own rolling pin and rolled out her piece of the dough. “See?” “Oh that's easy, I can do it!” Adrien exclaimed as he enthusiastically picked up his rolling pin. But of course, it wasn't as easy as it looked; he ended up with an unevenly rolled out base. “Help?” he turned to Marinette with kitten eyes. “You're doing pretty good,” she stepped over to stand near him and rolled the dough back into a ball. “Only you need to even out the pressure. Like so,” she placed her hands on top of his and guided him into rolling out the ball evenly. But Adrien's mind was elsewhere. Marinette was standing so close to him, and she was smelling so wonderful that Adrien could not resist himself. He closed his eyes and took a long whiff out of her hair. “Are you sniffing me again?” Adrien opened his eyes to find Marinette looking at him with narrowed eyes and a smirk. It made Adrien nervous and he stuttered, “M-maybe?” “Aww kitty,” Marinette cooed, and then reached up to plant a kiss on the tip of his nose, making him all the more flustered. “Th-that's not fair!” “But you are so cute, my love!” “Oh, is that so?” Adrien said in a challenging voice, with a cocked eyebrow. Marinette gulped; that was the tone he used before he used unfair means to tackle her. “Well, the cookies aren't going to make themselves,” she announced in an attempt to divert the conversation. Fortunately, Adrien was too excited at the moment and he fell for it, and Marinette secretly breathed a sigh of relief. “Now comes the most exciting part, cutting the cookies into shapes,” Marinette declared, bringing out a drawer of cookie-cutters.   “There are so many shapes!”   “Of course! Take your pick: there is a star, a heart, even a-" “Can I use all of them?” Adrien asked with childish delight. Marinette smiled. “Just as I expected. But be careful! The edges are pretty sharp, don’t hurt yourself.” Adrien was careful. After the cookies were cut out, Marinette arranged them on the tray and placed them inside the oven. “Now we wait?” Adrien asked. “Yes, but not idle waiting,” Marinette replied. “We have like ten minutes till the cookies are baked, and in that time, we are going to prepare the icing.” Saying so, Marinette moved around the kitchen to pick up ingredients. She mixed them all in a bowl to make a glossy, creamy mixture. “Wow.” Marinette started at his voice. She had been too focused on her work for a while to notice Adrien's movements. And now he was crouching on the floor next to her, peeking over the counter to see what she was doing. Marinette laughed out loud. “Can you stop being a cat even for once?” “But... I am a cat,” Adrien pushed his nose into Marinette's belly. “Stop, you're tickling me!” Marinette cried between laughs, and Adrien finally stood up. He knew Marinette was extremely ticklish, so he wasn't surprised that she took a while to recover from her fit of giggles. Once she did though, she immediately switched back into her instructor persona. “Now you may choose your colours,” she explained, pointing to the small bottles of food colour kept on the side. “And depending on how many colours, we are going to divide the icing into parts.” “I need...” Adrien counted off the colours on his hands, and winked at Marinette, obviously proud of himself. “Of course,” Marinette smiled. Just then the oven timer chimed. “There,” Marinette exclaimed, “the cookies are baked. I'm going to take them out of the oven now,” she said, putting on her oven-mitts, “and let them cool for a while.” Carefully, she took the tray of cookies out from the oven and placed them on the counter. “Meanwhile, we are going to finish up preparing the icing.” In a few minutes, the icing was ready and put into piping bags. Adrien insisted that he would decorate his cookies without Marinette's help, so she let him. She watched with a grin on her face, as Adrien scrunched up his face in concentration, trying to keep his icing from running off the edges of the cookie. While Adrien was thus occupied, Marinette turned around to work on a secret. When Adrien was done, he called Marinette over to see his handiwork. While it wasn't perfect, Marinette had to say that it was great work for someone who had never done it before. “I'm so proud of you Adrien,” Marinette praised her boyfriend. But when she looked up from the cookies, she could not hold back her laughter. Because Adrien’s face was splashed with icing. When he saw her laughing, he pouted in annoyance. But she looked so beautiful, so happy and carefree, that he could not stay mad at her too long. Very soon, he was laughing too, even though he had no idea what they were laughing about. When Marinette recovered enough to get meaningful words out, she threw a towel at Adrien's face. “Wipe yourself, you dork,” she teased.   Adrien rubbed the towel on his face. When he removed it, he flashed a Chat Noir grin, and asked, “Is it okay now?” Marinette furrowed up her brows, examining his face with interest. “You have something just there,” she pointed out, touching the area beside his lips. Adrien mirrored her hand and rubbed at his face. “Gone?” “Hold on,” Marinette said. And then she placed a hand on his cheek, stood up on her tiptoes, and planted a kiss just on the side of his lips. When she drew back, she saw Adrien's cheeks were red and his mouth was gaping open. “I think it was just me,” Marinette winked. “You little-" Adrien pretended to get angry, and then he leaned down and crashed his lips into hers, pulling her in close. Marinette smiled against his lips. The kiss was more flirty than passionate, and they broke off after a few seconds. “You know, there's still some time before Alya and Nino are supposed to arrive,” Marinette whispered, pressed up against Adrien's chest. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” Adrien asked. “Ultimate Mecha Strike!” they both shouted at the same time, and then dashed to the drawing-room.

Marinette's parents were relaxing on the couch. “Oh Adrien, sweetie, we thought we heard you,” Sabine smiled warmly at him. “I was wondering where you both had gone off to,” Marinette commented, as she walked over to the shelves to bring to controllers. Tom fidgeted and said in a very fake-cool manner, “Oh yes, we were totally not staying away to give you kids privacy-” “Honey!” Sabine shushed her husband. Adrien nervously rubbed the back of his neck and Marinette suddenly seemed to find her feet very interesting subjects to stare at.   “I'll bring you kids something to uhh, drink, okay?” Sabine pulled her husband along with her outside the room.

“I-I'm sorry,” Marinette mumbled. “You know my parents can be a little overbearing at times, and even,” she whispered the last bit, “inappropriate.” “Please don't apologise!” Adrien objected. “I love your parents! And besides, I can't blame them for staying away, can I?” he brought his face real close to Marinette's. For a moment, a blush spread over her cheeks, but she quickly got over it and pushed Adrien's face away gently but firmly. “Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “Let's start the match, shall we bugaboo?” Adrien intentionally used that nickname to annoy her. “I'm going to demolish you, you stray kitten!” she roared in response.

At the end of an intense gaming session, Marinette was dominating by a margin of 7 wins to Adrien’s 5. She threw down the controller with a victorious flourish, “Congratulations model boy, your girlfriend is still the champion.” “Well, at least I suck less now,” Adrien pouted.   Marinette kissed his forehead. “That you do. But you know you still have a long way to go if you want to be the better gamer in front of our kids.” Adrien's eyes widened, and it was only then that she realised what she had said. She buried her face in her hands in order to conceal the raging blush that came over her cheeks. “Did you just say ‘our kids', Marinette?”   Marinette refused to answer.   Adrien gently moved her hands away from her face. “Hey, what’s wrong?” “I'm so embarrassed.” “Oh Princess, it's not embarrassing! Trust me, I think it makes me love you even more, if that's possible.” “What?” Marinette looked as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. “I can't believe someone, least of all someone so perfect as you, would think of having a future with me.” Adrien murmured. “Oh kitty,” Marinette wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. “I have dreamt of having a future with you since I met you!” “Really?” “Mm-hm.”

They probably would have loved to continue that conversation, but Sabine entered the room. “Adrien, I have something for you!” At the sound of her voice, both of them sprang up and slid to the opposite sides of the couch. But the movement was obviously not unnoticed by Sabine, who suppressed a giggle at how adorable the kids were. She walked over to them, holding a bag in her hand. “Here,” she extended the bag towards Adrien, “this is for you.” Adrien opened the bag with childlike wonder, and gasped when he saw what was inside. “A sweater!” he exclaimed. “Take it out,” Sabine urged. Adrien did so, and unfolded it. He smiled because it was in his favourite shade of blue; only a few people cared to know that his favourite colour was indeed blue, not green. And then he turned it around. The grin on his face only became wider as he saw the embroidery on it. ‘Crust me, I'm on a roll’ it read. “It's a pun!” he gasped.   “Since you are now a part of our family now,” Sabine went on, “I figured that you should own one of the special Dupain-Cheng Christmas sweaters.” “I love it!” Adrien cried, as he enfolded the small woman in a bear hug. Sabine smiled and gently patted his back. “Can I put it on now?” he asked when he let go. “Of course you can, dear,” Sabine said sweetly. Adrien didn't need to be told twice. He pulled the oversized garment over his head and slipped into it. “Oh it's so warm and soft!” he said excitedly, wrapping his arms around himself, “I’m never taking it off again.” Marinette and Sabine shared a look. They both loved this precious boy with all their hearts.

Just then, they heard Alya announce from the bakery “We are here!” Adrien peeked from behind the door. “I got here before you!” “I thought we came early,” Alya complained. “He came way before time,” Marinette intervened, appearing through the door. “Sick sweater, dude!” Nino commented when he saw it. “I know, right?” Adrien bragged. Greetings were exchanged and gifts were passed. Both Nino and Adrien were extremely eager to open their gifts, but their girlfriends would not let them. Also, neither would Tom and Sabine. “Only after dinner,” they said. At the sound of dinner, Nino's stomach rumbled. Embarrassed, he tried to cover it up, but Sabine obviously noticed. She was not going to have any hungry bellies in her house. “Since there’s still time before dinner, why don't you children help yourself to some snacks?” she suggested. “I'll get them,” Marinette stood up.   “I'll help you, sweetie,” Sabine offered. “And when you come back, can we watch a Christmas movie?” Adrien asked. “Sure,” she smiled.  

It didn't take them more than a few minutes, but when they came back into the room, carrying a myriad number of boxes and plates, Alya had already connected her phone to the TV, and a movie was paused on the screen. “There you are!” said Nino, “Come on dudette, we were only waiting for you!” Her mother put the things down on the table, kissed each of the kids in turn, and left. Marinette walked over to the couch and squeezed in between Alya and Adrien. “So, what are we watching?” “The Knight Before Christmas,” Alya said. “I have heard people say that it's cute.” “Okay then,” Marinette declared. “But before we get started, I want you guys to see this.” Saying so, she opened up the box she was holding. It contained a batch of cookies in a variety of shapes. “Cute!” Alya exclaimed. “Guess who made these?” Marinette questioned. Alya and Nino tried to think, and then they spoke up at the same time. “Oh!” “Damn!” They turned to where Adrien was covering the blush on his face with his hands. “Dude!” Nino punched his shoulder playfully. “These are awesome!” “I agree,” Alya chimed in. “I think these are adorable.” Adrien looked at Marinette, who was giving him a look that said, told you they're great.

After they had praised him till he was as red as the heart cookies, Marinette finally decided to rescue him. “Let's start the movie, shall we?” she said, taking up the remote. When the movie started playing, Marinette leaned against Adrien’s chest and he wrapped his arms around her. Nino and Alya never minded them cuddling, and this position was actually very comfortable. And the closeness allowed them to whisper-talk to each other without disrupting the movie. Barely ten minutes into the movie, Marinette felt Adrien’s arms tighten around her, and she knew what it was about. He whispered frantically, “He called her m’ lady! Did you see that?” “I did, Adrien,” she replied with a smile. Her boyfriend was so cute. A few minutes later, it was Marinette who was whispering. “Did you see how he got down on his knees and kissed her hand? That reminds me of the first time you met me as Chat.” “During Evillustrator, right?” Adrien responded. “Well, I can assure you this is when she's going to fall for him; that move has never failed.” “Really?” “Admit it, Princess, hadn't you felt blown away when I had done that?” “Let's watch the movie, shall we?” Marinette put a stop to the conversation. She would rather not admit to her dork of a boyfriend that it had made her heart skip a beat when he had done that, for if he knew then he would never let her live that down. The rest of the movie passed by with them constantly whispering to each other. Because as it turned out, they found a number of similarities between the couple in the movie and themselves.   Marinette heard Adrien sobbing towards the end, but she was not surprised. Her boyfriend was a hopeless romantic, and she knew he easily cried at emotional scenes. She chose not to look at him and embarrass him when he was at his weak moment. So she just wrapped her arms closer around his, and let him hold on to her for comfort.

When the credits started playing, the four of them leaned back against the couch (or in Marinette's case, against her boyfriend's chest). “That was a really beautiful movie Alya,” Marinette commented. “You think?” Alya retorted. “I was beginning to doubt you guys were even watching with all the constant whispering.” “I beg your pardon, Lady Alya,” Adrien joined in with a little bow, “but I can assure you that myself and my lady love here were not neglectful of the magic box at all.” “Alright I got it,” Alya rolled her eyes. “Must you always be so extra?” Marinette turned to Adrien with a cocked eyebrow. “I'm afraid so, m’ lady,” he brought her hand to his lips and reverently kissed it. “Look what you did Alya!” Marinette complained. “You have created a monster!” “I don't see any difference,” Nino shrugged and left the room, Alya with him. “Okay my knight, here's an offer,” Marinette turned to face Adrien and placed her hands on his chest, “I am going to scratch your belly for five minutes if you stop this obnoxious act right now.” “Make it ten, and I might consider.” “Fine.” “Deal!”

“Where are you, kids?” Tom called out. “Dinner is served, you wouldn't want the sauce to get cold now!” At that call Adrien rushed over to the dining room, pulling Marinette along by her hand.

The table was set with so many foods that looked and smelled delicious. The Dupain-Chengs had gone the extra mile to place seat markers on the plates in order to indicate where each one of them was supposed to sit. Tom was to sit at the head of the table, with Marinette and Alya at his two sides, who in turn had Adrien and Nino at their sides and Sabine was to be seated at the other end of the table. The kids took their respective seats, visibly excited. Before starting on the food, they all joined their hands across the table to say Grace.   When they were done, they heard sniffling. They opened their eyes to see that Adrien was silently weeping.   “Oh no, what happened love?” Marinette asked. “I'm sorry. Please don't worry about me,” Adrien quickly wiped at his cheeks, “I am just overwhelmed. It has been so long since we have had an actual Christmas dinner at my house, and even then it never used to be so cheery.” “Poor boy,” Sabine took his hand in both of her. “You know you are always welcome to dine with us.” “And not just dine,” Tom interrupted, “but you can come over anytime! Be it breakfast, lunch, dinner or even for the occasional snack!” “You have got us now,” Sabine gently patted Adrien's hand. “So you'll always have a family, son.” The kindness of her words were more than what Adrien could take. He wrapped his arms around her, “Thank you, thank you so much.”   “There there now, my boy,” Tom tried to lighten the mood, “We wouldn’t want to shed tears over good, would we?” “Of course not!” Adrien exclaimed, as he picked up his fork and knife. The others followed suit.

The food was delicious and everyone asked for a second helping. And even after that, Sabine insisted on serving around a third helping because “No restrictions on Christmas food!” It was a cheerful dinner, with a variety of jokes and conversation to go with the food. Nino had struck up an interesting conversation with Sabine about Chinese music, Adrien and Tom had a blast discussing puns and Alya and Marinette were discussing Alya's latest blog about family traditions.

After dinner, Tom brought in the dessert. It was a delicious looking chocolate cake, and although everyone was full, who could ever say no to a Dupain-Cheng beauty like that? Sabine cut out generous slices for everyone, and they carried their plates to the living room where all the presents were kept. Although neither of the gifts said who it was from, as was tradition, it wasn't hard to tell. Other than individual gifts, both of the young couples got special presents from Tom and Sabine.

At the very end, Marinette excused herself and Adrien for a moment. She pulled him outside the room. “I have a secret gift for you,” Marinette whispered. Adrien looked like a little kitten on hearing her words. Marinette just wanted to pull his cheeks and squish his face because God, he is so adorable! She reached into her pocket and took out a little bag. “Open it,” she urged. Adrien did so, and he almost screamed. Because in his hand, he held two cookies. Two very special cookies. Because it was Ladybug and Chat Noir, complete with the details.   “I-It's us!” he spoke in a shaky voice. “Yes.” “I'm never going to eat them, they're so beautiful!”   “I'm glad you like them,” Marinette spoke softly, “but there's more.” “More?” Adrien asked, confused. “Look up,” Marinette pointed. Adrien did so, and he saw that a mistletoe was hung right above their heads. He looked back at Marinette and saw that she was looking at him with affection. “Happy Christmas, Adrien.” “Happy Christmas, Marinette.” Saying so, he took Marinette in his arms in one swift motion and pressed his lips to hers. Marinette lost no time in returning the kiss. She wove her fingers through his hair and pulled him in close to deepen the kiss. And as for Adrien, no matter how many times they had kissed, he could never get enough of her. They finally let go when they ran out of breath.

When they returned back into the room, Alya and Nino were already preparing to leave. “It's getting late,” they said. Marinette and Adrien looked at the clock. It was already past 9, which meant Adrien had to leave too. “I'll call Plagg,” she whispered to him before running upstairs.   She came back very soon, and Adrien realized Plagg was hidden in her hair. Good night wishes were passed around, and when Marinette went to kiss Adrien goodbye, Plagg slipped back into his pocket.   She whispered in his ear, “You're coming later tonight, right?” “Of course I am, Princess,” Adrien whispered back.

When Adrien was getting into the car, his bodyguard stopped him and handed him a neatly wrapped package. Curious, Adrien opened it and gasped.   Inside it was a framed painting of himself. And it was magnificent, from the accuracy to the details, everything. And the best part was that in it he was smiling his real smile: the one that came on his face when he was actually happy. Over the years, he had done so many modeling shoots and he had grown used to seeing his photographs everywhere. But this was something different, because someone had taken the time to draw him, someone had put in the effort. And that made his eyes fill up with tears. “Did you- did you make this for me?” he asked, looking up at the Gorilla. “Hmm,” he nodded, without looking at him. But his eyes widened in surprise when little arms wrapped around his body. He looked down to see that Adrien was hugging him. This precious sunshine boy, whom he had grown to think of as his own child, was embracing him as hard as he could. And that made him throw all reservations to the winds. He knelt down beside Adrien, and hugged him back.   “I love you kid.” Adrien barely heard a gruff voice whisper, but the emotion was clear. “I love you too,” he replied, wrapping his arms around his neck even tighter.

When Adrien opened the doors to his mansion, a cold draught blew at him. The house was deathly silent. Neither Nathalie or his father was waiting for him. He shrugged, he wasn't even expecting them to. Turning to look at his bodyguard one last time, he said, “Good night.” The big man responded with a nod and a little smile.  

Adrien sped up the stairs and ran into his room. This had probably been the best Christmas he had ever had.

Plagg zoomed out of his pocket as Adrien sat down on his bed. “I guess we should take a nap before we head over later?” Plagg suggested. “I'm running too high on adrenaline right now,” Adrien admitted. “I don't think I'll be able to sleep.” “Well, suit yourself,” Plagg mewed before heading over to his pillow. Adrien gently patted the top of his head. Then he walked over to his window and looked outside. He couldn't wait to see Marinette again, especially since she had mentioned that she had something special to show him.

He took his phone out of his pocket to see that he had a thread of unreceived messages from Marinette, which she had sent about ten minutes ago; he must have missed the alert when he was in the car.   Marinette had sent him some pictures. Nine, actually, to be exact. They were taking a while to load, so he read the message underneath them. “Dad took these!” it read. When the pictures finally loaded, Adrien was grinning from ear to ear. Because it was them in the bakery! Looked like Tom had sneaked quite a number of clicks while they were not looking.   “I'll cherish these memories of my first baking session with you, forever. I am indebted to your dad for infinity!” he sent the reply. He would indeed cherish them as long as he lived. He took his time to savour every detail in each photograph. Over the years of modeling for his father's brand, he had realised that the best photographs were the ones that were taken without your knowledge. Like behind-the-scenes shots, candids... and photos like this.  

He spent the rest of the time looking at those photographs, and very soon the clock downstairs chimed 11. He walked over to the bed and woke Plagg up. “Hey, it's time to go!” he whispered. “Already?” Plagg opened one eye. “But I was just starting on the seventh slice!” “Come on little guy, you can have your cheese later on!” Adrien urged. “You know right, that the only reason I agreed to do this in the middle of the night is because your girlfriend has the best cheese?” “No,” Adrien narrowed his eyes. “You're doing this because you're a hard-core Marichat stan.” “Well that too,” Plagg shrugged as he flew over, “but the cheese is more valid.” Adrien laughed. “Plagg, claws out!”

A few minutes later, Marinette heard a rap on her window and looked up to see the masked face of her boyfriend grinning at her. “Come on in, the door's open!” Chat Noir pounced through the open trapdoor onto Marinette's bed. “Hello Princess, miss me?” “I did, actually,” she climbed up the ladder to her bed.   “Where's my surprise?” he caught her in her arms as soon as she was close enough. “Oh?” she asked in a teasing voice. “Are you that impatient to get away?” Chat immediately loosened his hold. “I'm so sorry!” he blurted out, all flustered. “I didn’t mean it that way!” “Relax! I was only kidding!” Marinette turned around and seated herself in his lap. She cupped his face in her hands and said, “I know how much you love spending time with me.” Marinette leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek. “But I would prefer that you are not out in the cold too late tonight, so let's go.” “Where?” “To the terrace,” she spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, “that's where the surprise is.”

She urged him to climb up before her. “Keep your eyes closed when you get up there, okay?” “Okay.” “Are you ready?” “Wait,” Chat whispered at her, “why are you still down there?” “Shh, my kitty.” A few silent seconds passed, and Adrien caught a click over the nightly sounds. “You may open your eyes now.” He heard Marinette's voice just beside him. When he opened his eyes he cupped his mouth with his hands. Because the sight that he saw in front of him was breath-taking. Marinette had decorated her entire terrace with fairy lights that twinkled against the darkness. He walked out to the edge of the balcony, and spun around, taking the whole of the sight.  

“You missed this here,” Marinette called his attention to the wall beside the bonsai plant. Chat slowly walked over. The fairy lights illuminated the wall and Chat saw that there were photographs. Of them. Selfies, candids, photos taken by their friends and family, prints from that one time Marinette modeled with Adrien, and even a couple of paparazzi photos that had turned out really nice. She had hung them all together by clothes-pegs from the wire of the lights. Looking through the photographs, it was almost like reliving through each of the moments. And to think that these moments mattered equally to her that she took the time to put them together, it made him feel so loved. Chat slowly turned his head to look at Marinette. She was already looking at him, love brimming in her expression. The dim light lit up one side of her face. Adrien never knew she could look more beautiful than she already was, but here she was, looking like an angel. He wanted to fall at her feet and worship the very ground she walked on, but he also wanted to hold her close in his arms and never let go. This beautiful, incredible girl was in front of him, and he could not help but wonder how he got so lucky to have her in his life. “Can I kiss you?” he asked in a little voice. “Yes, you can,” Marinette whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Chat pulled her close by the waist and leaned in.

As they kissed in the cold air of the balcony, Adrien felt a warmth inside himself that grew with every passing moment. This is what Christmas is about: love. He was home, and he was finally happy.

[twitchesandstitches]

Timeline Complication

Katara was having a bit of trouble integrating into the new world she had rapidly found herself entangled into, and she felt she was doing her best to accomodate all the new changes.

It was just so... wondrous. The sheer awe of the whole multiverse spreading before was humbling, and frightening, and every day she found herself fighting the temptation to pull back and find a corner to call her own and never move from it.

But she had to. The Southern Water Tribes (now rapidly expanding to millions of tribeswomen, and with a pat of her belly, she considered that it was largely due to her own gravid expansion) were looking to her for inspiration, and she had to be a good role model. If her people were to prosper, she and her friends would have to set a proper image.

It had been like that for a while, of course. Zuko and Mai the ideal leaders in the on-going civil war between the Fire Nation’s factions, Toph exploiting her family’s criminal connections to get the Earth Kingdoms to see a new route from their stagnancy, and even Aang was doing his best to persuade the more militant of his people to find alternatives to endless conquest.

Now, the stage they sat on was... bigger. And so were they. Katara was still getting used to having a bustline larger than her entire upper body, not to mention looking at the ground from over a hundred feet away.

At the moment, she was trying to understand recnt history. It tended to be a bit of a blur for her; most of it was vague dates, an endless series of brief wars, and periodic surges of wild magic that did strange things to reality, and that caused serious distruptions to sensible recordkeeping.

“I understand,” she said to an archivist she was quite friendly with. “That the Cataclysm that damaged the multiverse was some time ago, but how long ago was it?”

The archivist winced. His blue optics shut, and his faceplate bobbed up and down as he tried to find the words. “Ah... how specific do you wish the answer to be? Because that is a much more complicated question than it may seem?”

Katara considered this, and nodded. “Ah, the times are uncertain?”

The archivist, Optimus Prime (who did this sort of thing in his off-time from being a major religious figure; it was fun for him to collate data), nodded. He was a big, broad bot, his kibble incorporating hints of the gorilla, bat and truck modes he so favored, but Katara had grown so large he only came up to her waist. “Yes, but that’s not the primary issue. Records exist, certainly, muddled as they are, but that’s not the frustrating element.”

“Oh?”

Optimus closed his optics, considering the best way to put it. “The Cataclysm occured roughly a thousand or so years ago... and it also happened twenty-six thousand years before that.”

Katara goggled. “What?!”

Optimus continued. “And according to some accounts, it took place thirty-five million years ago, as well.”

“I, I don’t.” Katara’s mind rebelled. “How!?” She paced, wobbling all over the place with gravid belly and massive bustline moving indignantly. “Okay... okay. Was the Cataclysm a long-term event with shockwaves that continued happening all over time, picking up speed and only stopping about a thousand years ago...?”

Optimus sighed, a low and mechanical noise. “Were that but were the case. I wish it was. No, records suggest that it was a fairly brief event, taking place over perhaps twenty years or so, and most of THAT was residual events triggered by the main disaster. No, this is a lot more difficult.” He gave her a steady look. “You understand that the Cataclysm primarily took place upon other realms of reality, yes?”

“I think so.”

“And that those magical realms hold dominance over our own, and things happening there can affect us in very unpredictable ways?”

“Yes.”

“Now consider this; time is a construct largely applying only to our own realms and, to a lesser degree, the elemental planes. So things from the realms the Cataclysm mainly hit did not follow linear time. And when it hit us, time was... damaged.”

“Damaged? How so?”

“It is difficult to say. I once studied with a group that deals with things such as this, the History Monks. Have you heard of them?” Katara shrugged. “Ah, well then. I learned something of this there, that when the Cataclysm struck, it did strange things to time, so that the Cataclysm occured simultaneously throughout the time periods I mentioned before. Or perhaps, it is more likely that time was made uncertain, distorted, and it is only recently that our universes have healed from the damage for time to begin behaving in a linear fashion.

“Regardless, past a certain point, time itself was horribly damaged, and so the Cataclysm occured across several points of time, all at once, and it makes records an absolute difficulty to understand.” He looked apologetic. “I am sorry.” He placed a hand against the tall cranial horn rising from his forehead helm. “Time travel business just gives me such a headache, ever since this time me and some of my closest friends were lost upon a prehistoric planet...”

Katara nodded sympathetically. “I’m sorry. And I think I understand. Time itself was damaged, so its impossible to pinpoint when it happened, only that it did?”

He nodded grimly. “Indeed, my friend.”

(The point of this particular fic is to establish a canon detail: rather than figure out a time frame for the Catacylsm, owing to the metaphysical aspects of what happened, it was so destructive it screwed time itself up, and simultaneously happend all at once across several different points of time.

This allows me to play with both it being fairly recent (creating a chaotic world state that is ideal for D&D style adventure scenarios and new societies appearing) without having to be concerned bout WHY new societies haven’t already filled the appropriate niches, and a very long time ago, for that epic feel of a terrible disaster in the ancient past that left behind many interesting ruins to explore and learn from. So, the time frame is the Cataclysm and its events is best described as ‘its complicated’.

Also, Optimus is explicitly alluding to the events of Beast Wars when he mentions being stuck on a prehistoric planet; he and Optimus Primal are the same person here! I may opt to seperate some of the characters later, but for now, my assumptions are that Optimus landed there with Bumblebee (who in this continuity was originally named Cheetor but forced through morph-reassignment surgery against his will), Rhinox (who is his own character here, not combined with anyone), Elita 1 (who likely turned into a lion), Airazor and Tigertron (who are themselves), Blackarachnia and Silverbolt (same), Rattrap (Arcee’s nephew/son, maybe?) and Grimlock and the Dinobots, who take the role that Dinobot originally had in BW; as Dinobot is a famous hero who died to Decepticon treachery here, Rattrap views Grimlock as a pretender to the name, hence their conflict.

Possibilities include the Decepticons were present, with two distinct factions (one headed by Ravage, acting on behalf of Soundwave), and another by Magmatron, who here fulfills the role of BW Megatron analogue.

This is also intended as confirmation that Katara and the other ATLA/LOK characters are active participants, and are members of the Fleet. Toph, Katara, Mai, Asami, Korra and all the other major heroines are probably Endowed and producing thousansd of their countrymen every year, allowing them to rapidly expand from a single world to being galactic powers in their own right; some of these are with the Coalition, while others are forming the bulk of Fleet’s human population.

[theguidedarts-blog]

How to Wage Gorilla Warfare

A United States military general was giving a pep talk to his soldiers. "Ok boys, today we're at war with some gorillas. Now I know you all have come to me with some concerns, so I thought I'd make one thing clear. Yes, we're supposed to deal with the gorillas. No, that does not mean diplomacy. Diplomacy? Seriously, why did any of you think they'd send the military out for diplomacy! Well, y'all are dumb. But, that's not what the point of this is. The point is to tell you that you're all more than capable of defeating the gorillas, and ya will."

The room filled with a sea of voices but the general very quickly put an end to that by saying as though a father might firmly but calmly, "Settle down! Settle down!"

One voice did not stop, however. This voice came from a man named Timmy. Timmy was 30 years old, but his balding would lead you not to believe it. He was a nervous one who approached life in a very overprotective manner. He's the kind of man you look at and think, "I'm sure he spends his Friday nights at home."

The words that came out were, "How well do we deal with them? Do we kill them or not? Isn't doing that immoral?"

The commander's eyebrow furrowed, and the words that came out of his mouth were, "Of course you're supposed to kill them, you idiot!"

Timmy's eyes and fists clenched, and his facial expression mirrored that of an abused child, although no such thing had happened to him for sure. Timmy had been that abused child once though. In grade school, the other kids would bully him saying things like, "I'm sure even a stupid monkey could beat you up," and throwing him against the lockers from time to time. This kind of relationship was present in many facets of Timmy's life as well, from how the commander treated him, to how many members of his own family had begun to treat him recently. All around, one could say Timmy didn't have a superb life.

This trauma would last until seconds before the troops were sent in. The doors to the encampment were opened, and soldiers came running out of it in all directions. Timmy ran off by himself, and then, he saw it. He had no idea what to do, and it would only be then that he realized he didn't have a gun.

"Seriously?" Timmy said. "How do I even fight this thing?"

The gorilla grunted back, and it was at this time he knew he had no hope. But there was one hope left.

Step 1: If you can't see them, they can't see you.

A commonly misattributed myth to lions is that if you can't see them, they can't see you. However it is not a myth, and it applies to gorillas as well! How convenient.

Timmy took a leaf and covered his face with it. The gorilla looked around for a second. Where did Timmy go? The gorilla would've thought to itself. Oh yes, the plan was working.

Step 2: Get behind the gorilla.

Now that you have evaded his sight, you must stay outside of it if you wish to see him while he can't see you. Note that you can locate where the gorilla currently is by his noises. If you're desperate and not sure which side of him you are on, you can get him to turn around by simply throwing a rock over his head.

Timmy took a deep breath. He was ready to do this. He reached down, picked up a rock, and blindly threw it in the direction of the gorilla. However, he had made one fatal error. As he took the leaf from his face, the gorilla was looking dead straight at him.

What had Timmy done? Well, it turns out that he hadn't thrown the rock over the gorilla's head. Quite a novice mistake on Timmy's part, for sure. But what could he possibly do now?

Step 3: Attempt to gain forgiveness.

Gorillas are in fact actually quite nice, if you're nice to them. It is a deeply mistaken belief that gorillas were ever not nice, indeed. One thing to keep in mind is that, if you should make gorilla angry, you should seek to gain forgiveness through a gift.

Timmy looked in his satchel. The contents were one flashlight, one pack of cigarettes, and of course, his circular flask. He couldn't give the gorilla the flask, that was his only source of water, and he couldn't give the cigarettes either as he was currently addicted. He decided the only logical course of action was to part with the flashlight, so he grabbed it from his bag and walked towards the gorilla, and gave it the flashlight. The gorilla made a happy grunt.

Step 4: Commune with the gorilla.

Once you have made him happy, communion will commence. Your two minds will join together and you will be able to properly communicate.

"You come in pursuit of diplomacy?" The gorilla communed to Timmy.

"Yes, in fact. I do, my name is Timmy and I represent the United States military. I came in light of a recent miscommunication between our two countries, and wish to see that a diplomatic solution is met." Timmy communed back. He had no idea what was going on, only what he must do. He must stop this war from continuing. "Gorilla sir, does it happen that any of your friends might be outside right now?"

"No, it is the first thing in the morning and I am the only one outside."

"Ok thank you, some angry people might be running about causing havoc, so you should be cautious."

"That's good to know, thank you."

Step 4: Go back to the Gorilla's base to attempt a diplomatic resolution.

Once you're in the gorilla's base, you'll be able to properly communicate diplomatic terms. You'll want to know what happened with the gorilla

The gorilla and Timmy then got caught up, and the gorilla led Timmy back to his base. The gorilla king was sitting in a big throne made of wood from the same jungle. The chair had a special red color to it, which was the most beautiful thing in the room they had gone into. The gorillas really had a good sense of design. Next, the gorilla Timmy befriended talked to his leader in the same language the gorillas spoke, and then communed to Timmy in telepathic waves. "My king says your people declared war on us last night. We had been anxiously waiting to receive an attack, but none has happened so far. What's up?"

Timmy communes back to the gorilla, "It seems that you're right, but I disagree with the notion of a war between our factions. I think that it's actually quite pointless in fact, but let us not get into that. What do you think the best way to get a diplomatic solution would be?"

The gorilla talks to his king again, and then responds "Why don't we get your commander in here, and then we can act as the translators between our factions because as of now we don't seem to be on the same page at all."

Timmy liked this idea. "Sure, let me call him."

Timmy called his commander upon his walkie-talkie. "Hey boss, can you come over to where I'm at? I think we can reach a diplomatic solution to this issue!"

"Sure, Timmy... Just... Give me your coordinates."

"Ok boss," Timmy said, and then slowly ran back the coordinates.

The boss tells the coordinates back to Timmy, and then Timmy says "Yup that's right."

Step 5: Wait for the commander to bring in diplomatic reinforcements.

Thanks to your wonderful proactivity you have managed to ensure the best possible outcome for the United States military, and have succeeded where all previous have failed in Gorilla Warfare. Good job!

Suddenly somebody knocks on the door to the chamber Timmy has been sitting in with the king. A guard comes to open the door. It is the commander, he actually came! The commander walks into the room and sits down next to Timmy.

"So, what can we do?" The commander says.

Timmy communes with the gorilla who talks to the king, and then responds back to Timmy who responds back to the commander. "We're going to solve this issue by using diplomacy and not guns. How does that sound?"

"Well, that sounds mighty doable seeing as our missing still says just deal with them, and that means that if we make a deal with them, we're dealing with them alright haha."

"So, why did you declare war on us?"

"It was because a gorilla attacked one of our wild citizens in the jungle. We had to retaliate in some way, and we guessed he was from your country."

"We do not condone the actions of those who come from outside gorilla country, but I apologize for this experience. Was he killed?"

"No, actually, he was only given a scar but the gorilla got away and somebody had to answer for the crimes."

"This sounds like you just wanted an excuse to attack us."

"Look I don't know all the nitty-gritty, all I know is that a gorilla attacked an American, and Americans wanted an answer. But now we're here, so I guess we can get that answer."

"That actually does sound like one of our refugees. Let me see... does he look like this?"

The king holds up a picture of a gorilla. The commander's eyes widen as the features of the gorilla are distinct enough to make a positive comparison. The commander holds up his picture, to realize that the two are the exact same gorilla.

"Could we possibly try him inside an American court?"

"If he committed an American crime in your American country, you may do that in an American court. Let me get him."

The king gets the refugee and sends the commander on his way. However, Timmy stays behind for a little while. He thanks the gorilla for everything, and the king as well. Then Timmy leaves the place with a new-found sense of confidence, and gets promoted to general of his own troops.

[cheeseeatingtrashmonster]

#ShamelesslyAkumatized

LadyNoir July day 28: Forgiveness/Stay. Thanks @lovesquare-squad (HOW is this month almost over??)

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Read the whole month on AO3

The next morning, Marinette woke up with Adrien curled up sleeping with his head on her stomach. He was such a cat!

"Shut off your alarm," Marinette said, shoving at his shoulder. "I don't know where it is, but we have to get me back home."

"Noo," Adrien whined. "Comfy."

"Please?"

Adrien growled but sat up, looking around until he located his alarm clock.

"I'll get changed," she said, kissing his cheek as she passed him on the way to the bathroom. "I slept really well."

"Me too."

Adrien tugged on jeans and shoes, not entirely sure why he was dressing before transforming, but routines are hard to break.

"Ready for another trip in my arms, Princess?" Chat asked when Marinette reemerged, bowing dramatically for her.

"Actually," she said, chewing her bottom lip, "I was thinking I would transform. This isn't something I can be scared of. I have to transform to help people, and I don't want to stop helping."

"You don't have to do anything that'll upset you," he said, taking her hands in his.

"No, I need to do this." She took a breath and let it out in a puff. "But... hold my hand while I do?"

"Of course, My Lady." He brought one hand to his lips in a kiss and she smiled.

"You'll be fine, I promise," Tikki said, smiling sleepily.

"Okay. Okay, spots on!"

Ladybug stood before Chat Noir with her eyes screwed closed.

"Welcome back, Bugaboo."

"I'm okay," she whispered. Her eyes opened and she squeezed his hands. "I'm okay."

"Can I still walk you home?" he asked.

"Of course, Kitty."

They landed on her balcony a few minutes later and shared a kiss before parting.

Adrien showered and dressed for the day before heading downstairs for breakfast. The Gorilla was there waiting for him.

"We need to work out the details," Gorilla said. "Is your father going to do this willingly, or will I have to fight for custody?"

"I don't know," Adrien said. "I said a lot of stuff to him yesterday."

"Want to tell me what happened?"

"Uh... Just stuff. Manipulating Marinette, lying to me, just completely missing the point, kinda stuff."

"Don't tell me he got his memory back," Gorilla said. "I know he doesn't have his miraculous anymore, but I'd rather he didn't know to go looking for trouble."

"What."

Breakfast was a very long meal. Gorilla had to explain that he had known about Chat Noir almost from the beginning, and figured out Ladybug and Hawkmoth in the last few weeks. Adrien thought back on all the times he had transformed only around the corner from the Gorilla in the car and figured he probably was the worst at keeping his identity secret.

"Don't worry about it, the previous Chat Noir was worse," Gorilla said.

"What do you mean? You knew him?"

"Felix? Yeah. I was his bodyguard when he was about your age, running around like you do chasing after his Ladybug."

"I have so many questions."

Adrien and Gorilla discussed the fight the night before. Gorilla offered to speak to Gabriel and see if he could convince him to sign over custody.

"Some part of him wants what's best for you," Gorilla said. "Let's see if we can get him to focus on that."

/*****/

"I'm proud of you for facing your fears, Marinette!"

"Thanks, Tikki," Marinette said, changing into pajamas. It was still early, she wanted to sleep more. "There's cookies on my desk if you want."

Tikki zipped over to open the box. She was deciding which cookie she wanted first when Marinette flopped onto her bed and curled into her cat pillow.

"Hey, Tikki?"

"Yes?"

"What if Ladybug told everyone that she was akumatized?"

"What do you mean?"

"Would that be a bad idea?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know," she said. "I was just thinking about other times I had a feeling of 'I need to do this' and as relieved as I was when Chat covered for me at the press conference, I really wanted to let everyone know."

"What do you think people would get out of it?" Tikki asked.

"I don't know," she rolled onto her back, bringing the cat pillow with her. "Maybe they'll feel less alone. Blame themselves less. Maybe it'll help me remember that having strong feelings isn't something to be ashamed of." She sighed. "But that's selfish."

"Maybe it will remind them that having strong feelings isn't something to be ashamed of," Tikki said, brushing cookie crumbs off her paws before settling on the pillow next to Marinette.

"Maybe."

/*****/

Adrien went with the Gorilla to the hospital, but he waited outside the room. He tried to ignore the raised voices from within a few minutes later and started texting Nino. Nino had a disastrous summer babysitting job and always had funny stories about the nine year old girl and five year old boy he watched and the things they got up to.

"Adrien?" the Gorilla poked his head into the hall. "Would you join us for a moment?"

Adrien shoved his phone in his pocket and wished he had brought Marinette because everything was easier with her smile. He had held her hand while she transformed again. He should have had her here to hold his hand as he had to face his own transformation.

"Adrien," Gabriel said, "do you really want to take away my custody of you?"

"Yes, I do."

"But I'm not that man anymore," he said. "I can't remember even being that man. I saw what that man did, and I agree it was horrible, but Adrien, I am your father. I love you."

"I love you too, Father," Adrien said. "But I can't forget what you did. I can't excuse it, I can't pretend that you're a different person. You might not remember, but you did all of those things, willingly and with so many other options available. I'll learn to forgive you, but I won't forget. Until you repeatedly and consistently prove that you are who you claim to be, not who you've shown yourself to be time and time again, you shouldn't be my parent." Tears formed in his eyes, but Adrien ignored them. "And I shouldn't have to be the one to tell you that."

"Adrien-"

"The best thing for him," Gorilla interrupted, stepping between them enough to shield Adrien while he wiped his eyes, "is for you not to be the one in charge of his life right now."

Gabriel had the grace not to beg. Adrien had outlined his terms clearly. He had his path set before him.

"Okay. Bring me the papers, and I will sign them."

"Thank you, Father."

In the hallway, Adrien called Marinette.

"Hey, Kitty, I was about to call you," she said.

"He agreed," Adrien said. "He's giving up custody."

"Oh, Adrien," she said. "Come over. Let my parents and me dote on you for a little while."

He almost made an excuse to the Gorilla out of habit.

"Can I go to Marinette's for a while?"

"Yeah. I'll drive you. If you plan to stay for dinner, text me. We'll outline ground rules tomorrow."

/*****/

Adrien relaxed upon setting foot in the bakery, and even more when Sabine made a beeline to him to give him a hug.

"Marinette says you're having a rough time," she said. "You're always welcome here."

Tom handed him a box of pastries and patted him on the back.

"I live above a bakery and I don't eat as many of these as you do," Marinette said when Adrien handed her a croissant.

"Your parents like me, apparently."

They settled into video games for a while before Adrien remembered something.

"You said you were about to call me. What's up?"

"Oh! So, I want to go public with the information that I was akumatized."

"What?"

"Everyone should know that even Ladybug can have a bad day, that we're no better than them, that having a moment of weakness doesn't make you any less of a superhero."

Adrien paused the game and leaned over to kiss her.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I love you."

Marinette blushed and unpaused the game.

/*****/

Ladybug stood before a podium in a very small conference room a few days later. She had notecards, but she had memorized her speech, remembering Alya's insistence that she never improvise. She knew what she wanted to say.

"I was akumatized. I was the victim that created feelings of overwhelming sadness in people when hit with my yoyo. I came before you all today because I wanted you to know that even a superhero feels what you do. Even I was susceptible to Hawkmoth's powers. To each and every one of you who has ever been under his control: It was not your fault. You did nothing wrong. Feeling strong negative emotions is a good thing, it means you care deeply. To each of you who has a friend or family member who has survived Hawkmoth's control: tell them that you know it wasn't their fault. Show them that you don't think any less of them. Support them in healing from this violation." She paused and reached for Chat's hand. "That's what Chat Noir has been doing for me."

She was glad there were only a handful of reporters in the room, because each had quite a few questions. The main theme seemed to be responsibility.

"I am sorry that I hurt people that day," she said. "But I do not feel responsible. I didn't choose to be akumatized. I fought it as hard as I could. The person responsible was Hawkmoth, just like with every other akuma." She repeated this statement almost word for word four more times.

"Can we know your akuma name?"

"No," she said, shaking her head and trying not to make a face.

"Can you tell us why you were akumatized?"

"No. It doesn't change what happened. It doesn't change who is at fault."

The conference ended and the heroes were led out a side door of town hall.

"Wait!"

Chloe came running up to Ladybug.

"Something wrong?" Ladybug asked.

"Thank you," she said, tears falling openly. "Thank you."

Ladybug stepped forward and held her arms out, and Chloe hugged her.

"Thank you," she whispered. She pulled away, wiped her eyes, and left with a wave.

"You're already making an impact with this, Bug," Chat said, taking her hand.

"Good," she said. "That's all I can hope for."

She kissed him.

Chloe caught it on her camera phone. The picture went viral.

"LadyNoir kiss finally captured on film!"

The only thing to top it on social media was the new cool hashtag.

"ShamelesslyAkumatized. I started it so people could share their stories," Alya said, handing her phone to Marinette as they sat on a picnic bench the next day. "I think it's making a difference. It's trending, along with her speech. I know you've never been akumatized, but have you watched it?"

"I watched it," Marinette said. "What did it mean to you?"

"It meant someone got it," she said. "Someone got that it sucks. You don't have any choices and you're the worst version of yourself and everyone sees it and she made sure that everyone knows that you can come back from that."

"What are you two lovely ladies talking about?" Adrien asked, dropping onto the bench next to Marinette and pulling her close to kiss her cheek.

"How did you two go from zero to PDA in five minutes?" Alya asked.

"That's what you were talking about?" Nino asked. "It's one of the mysteries of the universe, these two."

"I'm just saying, it took someone-" Alya sent Nino a side eye, "-over two months to hold my hand in front of the school in the mornings."

"I'm sorry, you're intimidating," Nino said. "Like, really, really intimidating. I was scared of you. Still am. Are you saying I should not fear how awesome you are? That you aren't so awesome it makes men of strong moral fiber quake before you?"

"I don't know," Alya said, "are any around here to ask?"

Nino pulled his hat low over his face as the other three laughed with/at him. It took a couple minutes of teasing for the conversation to circle back to Ladybug's speech.

"What did it mean to you?" Marinette asked Nino.

"Read my tweet," he said, handing over his phone. On the screen read "I was #ShamelesslyAkumatized because I had one moment of being so upset it overrode everything else. And you know what? That's normal."

"That's great," Marinette said.

Adrien watched her ask all of their friends over the next few days what Ladybug's speech meant to them. He watched it slowly work into the core of her, loosen the knot of guilt that ate at her when she thought he wasn't looking and gave her nightmares that left her shaking and calling him in the middle of the night.

"What does it mean to you?" Adrien asked a few nights later. Her speech was playing on the news again and she was nodding off against him in the corner of the couch while her parents sat at the kitchen table working out what to prepare for the bakery the next day.

"It means... I get to let go," she said. "Ladybug let go, so I can, too."

[savefarris124-blog]

Love Me Tinder

Words To Live By: “I just wish I could start a relationship 12 years in. When you really don’t have to try anymore and you can just sit around and goof on TV shows and then go to bed without anybody trying any funny business”--Liz Lemon (Tina Fey), 30 Rock.

Reader, I have an embarrassing confession to make: I am over the age of 30 and still single. You might think this isn’t terribly shocking as far as secrets go. Once upon a time I may have agreed with you. That was before older people started constantly asking me, “When are you getting married?”

I grew up watching a healthy dose of NBC’s Must-See TV, featuring such gems as Suddenly Susan and Just Shoot Me. These two shows featured 30-something women trying to balance a crazy career while possibly looking for love. The premise may seem clichéd now but in 1998 it was…also clichéd. Still these shows were great for background noise, and they infused me with the subversive notion that somehow a 30-year-old woman could walk into a room and nobody would be offended by her lack of husband.

I will confess that questions about my marital status bother me. Naturally I should be bothered on feminist principle and all that jazz, and I am. I am also bothered because I honestly do wish to fall hopelessly, sickeningly in love and share a life of adventures with somebody who sees me as I am. We would know each other’s strengths and weaknesses, push each other to become the best versions of ourselves, and laugh at jokes only we can understand.

Most people go about finding love by dating, but my dating history is spotty at best. I could go into details both depressing and/or absurd but here is the rundown of my greatest hits:

I needed to break out of this cycle. I had tried online dating a little in the past, but this time I decided to dive deep. After all, if the internet could bring a custom-made Scarlet Witch headpiece right to my door why not a boyfriend? I set out on an epic quest to become a Tinderella. And guess what? I’m engaged!

Just kidding; I burnt out after six weeks of extreme dating. During this period I went out with four guys, which for me is the equivalent of trying to run the Boston marathon when your warm-up routine has been a coma. Still I learned some valuable lessons. Learn from my mistakes, readers, and godspeed.

DO: Choose a Good Profile Picture

One of the reasons I dragged my feet on joining Tinder is that I hate every photo of me ever taken. I therefore avoid cameras at all cost. “What am I doing?” I ask myself as I dodge behind the nearest potted plant. “How will I remember that I have a fun, enviable life?” I then leap out in front of the camera, contort my body into an unnatural posture never used in real life, and smile. My reward is yet another awkward photo of myself that I will destroy immediately. Wash, rinse, repeat for the next ten years.

Because the only way to get better at something is practice, I spent my summer learning the art of complete narcissism. Going to a play? Let me take a selfie. Someone’s having a party? Selfie time. Spending a relaxing day inside to avoid the heat? Selfie marathon! I took enough selfies to burn through my phone’s memory. One of my best friends got married in October and I used the opportunity of professional hair and make-up to snap roughly 800 pictures of myself and maybe two of the bride for good measure. This strategy worked though, because I now have a whole six of photos of myself I can show with pride neutrality.

This photo obsession may seem like overkill, but online dating profiles have no context. The bio section is short, and half the time people don’t fill it out. Therefore if a guy doesn’t smile in his photos I assume he doesn’t have a sense of humor. If he takes a shirtless pic in a place where he shouldn’t be shirtless I assume he is a douchebag. If he refuses to post any photos with his face I assume he will murder me, and nobody has time to deal with that.

DO: Fill Out the Bio

Just take 5 minutes. Give me something. This is a system set up for convenience; I don’t want to dig. Also saying, “Just ask” doesn’t count. You are not mysterious, or rebellious, or beyond labels. You are lazy. I, too, am lazy, so I understand the impulse, but one of us has to put in the effort so it may as well be you.

DO: Play It Safe

Tell your friends whenever you are going out with someone new. Not only is it useful in case they need to file a police report, but also fun. The highlight of meeting so many new people was brainstorming safety code phrases with my gal pals. One friend insisted on the word “Pikachu.” I can’t remember if that meant I was safe or in trouble; it doesn’t matter. From “banana hammock” to “crazytown” to “vanilla gorilla” anything works for this purpose. Granted if a guy sees you get or send a text during the date, odds are he knows the score but a code word gives you at least some sort of deniability. That way in case he grabs the phone out of your hand like a psycho you can claim it’s just an inside joke, and oh my God, what the Hell has dating come to in the 21st century?

DON’T: Set Your Expectations High

“The love of my life may be just a swipe away,” I told myself when I signed up for Tinder. This is technically true, but you know who else is just a swipe away? Every other guy in this city. The beauty of Tinder is that you can see just how much is out there. The downside is that most of it is hot garbage.

I don’t want to just rag on Tinder, though I could. They have a filter for age, a filter for distance, but they don’t let me set a filter for douchebags (again, those guys who think I’m impressed by their refusal to let shirts dampen the glory of their doughy physiques). However at least Tinder respects my filters. 

On the advice of a friend I also tried Coffee Meets Bagel, the site where she met her current boyfriend. While CMB seemed a bit more promising at first with its “select picks” it is rapidly disappointing me. I am 32 right now, and a very different person from when I was in my 20s. I told CMB I only wanted to date guys over the age of 30, but 75% of my picks are 29 or under. One time they selected a 28-year-old man for me that was clearly in his 50s. Between his gray goatee and his paunch he looked like Santa Claus with a mid-life crisis. Is that a fluke? Doubtful. Today the same thing happened, except this guy’s alternate pictures are all of Jesus. I think I’ll pass.

DON’T: Ignore Yellow Flags

Sure we all can recognize red flags when we see them, but what about yellow flags? I ended up falling hard for a guy who was funny and introspective. He loved to sing and act goofy, and being around him made brought out the light-hearted dreamer in me. He also ended up being a massive jerkwad.

He would schedule every date to be at or around his place. This part I was sort of okay with because I don’t want near-strangers knowing where I live, but it did mean I did all the driving. He tried to reschedule our first date so he could hang out with his friends that night, and did reschedule our second date. On said second date he had his phone out during dinner so he could play a Ghostbusters game. In my head half of me would say, “Whatever, we don’t know each other that well, plus you know he has ADHD. Nothing like being a high-maintenance bitch to drive men away.” The other half would say, “You came all this way, battled for downtown parking, worked your ass off to look cute for this date, let it be rescheduled, and he can’t even set his phone down for one minute? WTF?”

Yet somehow this guy emerged as the leader of the pack despite the fact that if I made a list of “Guys Who Displayed Basic Consideration For My Time” he would rank 3 out of 4. What can I say, the heart wants what it wants, and also I have terrible self-esteem and judgment. It came as a shock to absolutely no one that after our third and final date he sent me this text message:

Hmm, yes, “exhausting.” This was technically true, because I was exhausted. On the evening of our last date I bolted out of work at 5:00, drove home, took a shower, shaved my legs despite being on my period and knowing there would be no shenanigans that night, picked out an outfit, got dressed, decided that my outfit was too sexy for a night free of said shenanigans (I’m not cruel), put on a different outfit, looked around for my steampunk earrings because he mentioned he loved steampunk, did my make-up, and drove downtown to hang at his place at 7:00.

He got out of work late, fit in a workout, took a shower, and ordered pizza. Poor baby.  Poor me. I had thought of calling him on this BS multiple times but refrained because I didn’t want to scare him off. Now here we were a month later, him running away anyway and me peeved I had invested so much effort into a guy when I had seen from the start he wouldn’t do the same.

So here I am now, licking my wounds from this latest foray into dating. I won’t give up completely, but I have learned that I’m the kind of person that needs to take things slow. If that means I only date one person at a time, then I’m going to make damn sure that person is worth it. Will I go back to online dating? Maybe, although now when I check out Tinder or CMB instead of seeing possibilities all I see is a vast wasteland of strangers staring back at me. I’ll try again in the new year, but for now I’m back to my previous dating strategy of hoping to get hit on the head and ending up with a special kind of amnesia where I get transported into my favorite TV universes to romance the hot male leads. Sure Peter Stone has issues but at least he won’t constantly reschedule our steady date night on Thursdays at 9:00.

[dancingarchitect]

There have been times when I’ve wondered if Black Thought should be in the running for #goat emcee. This video is one of those times. My friend and colleague, drummer Morgan Childs, actually transcribed these amazing rhymes: Uh I’m sorry for your loss it’s somebody dead in a car and it’s probably one of yours The writin’ all across the window and the walls Whether it was true or false We shouldn’t have got involved Remember We walked past the teacher take the chalk and laugh We wrote punishments “I will not talk in class” Now it’s pistols punishing people for talking fast And all these innocent bystanders is haulin’ ass I hate to say “I told y’all” but I told y’all Things fall apart when the center to weak to hold y’all I’m just collecting what you owe to my owe jar You ‘bout to get swooped down on and stoled on Fools swear they wise, wise men know they foolish but we was headed for the web even before computers I never thought you’d give me a reason to do this Cain and Abel Jesus and Judas Caesar and Brutus I see intruders avert yer eyes I told you keep out of the hood Circumcise How could you sleep, I thought you always was the first to rise Eyo you heard the line Errybody plays the fool Well I be that exception to the rule The principal that hand deliver lessons to the school I was makin’ major moves My dollar déjà vu My mission when my ambition was brandishin’ the tool to be an icon wearin’ slippers made of python Get mine quicker ‘cause I’m slick as a pipeline Transportin’ the oil tribulation and toil hit the operation but I’m back in the soil Got my crown tilted, my gown quilted silk with cashmere burn the room down in a minute, built it last year Newsflash, I dodged the bullet that killed the cashier My homie told me to come with him to the masthead Them brothers said don’t go from written bars filled with rage to prime time television and your gilded cage Then forget there’s people in the world still enslaved I bar white at my wrist, and let it fill the page Gunfire and flare Sirens glare I’m in an iron chair with people who care don’t get the lion’s share When I don’t give a fuck then I ain’t fair I’m on a higher table people getting’ money like the finest hair Catch the herald I’m fresh chopped and beveled rap on a doctorate level so F Scott Fitzgerald Maybe I’m the new Rakim Maybe I’m Fab Pharoah Undergarments are armor be my intimate apparel Pre-Kardashian Kanye My rhyme play immaculate Same cadence as D.O.C. pre-accident Maybe my acumen is on par with Gucci rappin’ and gimme the proper respect motherfucker we back again For a couple things we lost in a fire the drive and desire to perform on a higher plateau I make that show lost in a mire Wondering how we got so far from inspired Look, when photos were sepia toned and record players were something you would keep in your home Yo the traveller the meanin’ Tariq he was known For the exemplary performance, uniquely his own I made the 21 pound for some a newfound religion When money’s put down there’s only one sound to make OGs and young lions equally proud to listen To seek what amalgam-ism an algorithm comin’ from where only kings and crowns permitted to darkness Where archaeologists found my image in parchment rolled into a scroll holdin’ a message for you It said the only thing fo sho is taxes death and trouble The anomaly, sworn solemnly high snobbery Freakinomics and war policy dichotomy That’s Heaven and Hades Tigris and Euphrates His highness, the apple of the iris to you ladies As babies we went from simolac to infomill to the internet and fentanyl when our consent was still against the will I got that detox for y’all The microphone doctor black Deepak Chopra I’m a griot that make you want to peacock your arm every heavy dignitary payin’ me top regards boy I’m three octaves far from the bi noc ulars so the smart money feelin’ get the heat out the car yo I’m K dot Lamar meets Tupac Shakur Got profiled by a few cops too hot to charge, listen somebody said a price tag was on a rapper’s head so we gonna see a nice bag when a rapper dead the mast black the flag green black and red they probably wave a white flag out the prasma shed (?) no doubt Yo the Game went they own route I can’t explain what these lame kids is talmbout Or how they fit they whole foot into their own mouth I put a couple bodies in a brown bag then I’m en route I’m sneaker shoppin’ with my stuntas size 8 prior to they release, cuz why wait? Look, in my state I got electrified gates for these blasé gods hatin’ at a high rate ‘cause I dodged fate then got great to fly straight if we ain’t family or friends then we don’t vibrate and I’m that Gun in yah face none of y’all safe If I catch you at the right time in the wrong place Slippin’ Sipping on somethin’ with a strong taste Like whiskey or bootleg bourbon with a corn base (Malavine?) take resemble a vehicular threat The mic I spray resemblin’ a sickle of death It ain’t strenuous to come from a continuous breath I set fire to the venue Imma spin you in step Rinse repeat You checkin’ for the sound of the beats I’m the hound I’m a creep I get down Imma eat Imma keep sumpin’ and lay a naysayer to sleep playin’ wit heat nobody and nothin’ fucking with ‘Riq yo these weaklings is claiming they cutting up in the streets Nigga peace You ain’t workin’ with nuttin’ but the police, listen you ain’t feelin’ to be nothin’ but the deceased, listen you in the tournament with a permanent crease I strike fear in the hearts of rap figures who mind bears the stigmas of time no black privilege From Boom Bap niggas To trap niggas you in the trap wit us When the lines is as vivid as the walls on that grab all the graph by the law to rap I reside between the seconds on the chronograph How much more CB4 can we afford? It’s like a sharia law On My Cherie Amour How much hypocrisy can people possibly adore? But ain’t nobody workin’ on a cure? My young boy Y’all just regular I’m an apex predator Brim stay fresh feathered up etcetera nevertheless I got a message of love One day a messenger yo my pen is Henry Kissinger Buzz Bissinger, look My caporegime Mr Noradeen and my oldest son Amin Saleem outta New Orleans Took a golf cart to the baccarat From the Waldorf What was on the walls? That depend on what you call art Imma say 300 k ain’t even in the ballpark I charge more just for awkward small talk So yes Who’s fuckin’ with it if it’s not the best? I get the lobby painted fresh upon my request It’s Kafkaesque His holiness stop the press that cobalt blue Reminiscing on my caress Lord, we got Padma Lakshmi for you Let her massage the back with black seed oil The foundation is firm, the flags need soil Me, I need royalty because I bleed royal Go through the veins to the brain fabulous and strange My journalistic range is a catalyst for change They got anybody to listen pissin’ flames and ‘cause the Hall of Fame got so many missin’ names I’ll acknowledge the original peoples not Oliver Y’all will the get the next challenger for Excalibur Um… more police for my core beliefs They tried to capture me and brand me on the cheek with a fleur de lis that side of my heart’ll be more discrete I’m international, my passport pages like War and Peace I’ve always played my part From the start Back in Philly where the triggers is mandatory to spark With the slightest inflammatory remark I have you in a livin’ a category apart, listen A grain of salt’ll tip the scales It never fails Walk on eggshells sleep on a bed of nails Criminal records like record sales Makin’ heads or tails we like Henrietta (L)acks Up in the cells My mother was a working class very loving woman who struggled, every dinner could have been her last supper (summer?) I come home chasin’ good for nothin’ half cousins and then walk in the crib to the smell of crack cookin’ she was introduced to that substance abuse or some of the strongest drugs that the gov’ment produced look, I even got excused by the principal My story is out of the dub dub interview I seen some ice cold summers, hot winters too I never thought I’d win Grammy awards with the Roots I never thought I would be getting’ long in the tooth My OGs told me “boy, you better go and live your truth” I am a walking affirmation That imagination and focus and patience gets you closer to your aspiration and just cuz they give you shit don’t mean you have to take it My words capture greatness sworn affidavits Yours truly the celestial being You stay seein’ pulling up in a fresh European High steppin out of it dressed to a T And not another got more soul, unless you Korean (!!!!) I’ve been Havin’ visions of Nat Turner holdin’ his master’s head like Yoric and Horatio in Hamlet Smackin’ it like a tennis racquet underhanded Send a message to the gram the eagle has landed Dressed in a military jacket made of canvass I am no guerilla/gorilla I just make ‘em go bananas I stand and wear black and green bandanas cocked hammers hairs on my chin is outstandings Can’t manage the weight of the world is just how I ball it Look, I’ve fallen from the sky to see my calling I’m not crawling I’m a free man like Morgan Seein’ manhood in the hood’s a damn good bargain If every black man don’t tap dance and every girl that got a fat booty don’t lap dance well I guess it’s something wrong, huh Niggas completely uninformed I don’t burn bridges, yo, I keep the haters round to fall I ain’t one of y’all peers I’m the sum of all fears Somebody stronger than me, who that? I mar ears like Obama I wish he had another four years Y’all some jolly good Hollywood squares I’m like “ahem” approach the author witcha offering I smoke rappers writin’ like my only offspring Being his excellency is to be exhausting You in the residency, you’re the one they call King Dolla Ali Baba the talented Mr Trotter Inside of my right palm the marker to stick My the big papa wig chopper Enter the Jaffe Jocker mawfucker I’m stronger than the coffee out in Kaffa All y’all make his vagina hot remind me of my kinda pop I step into the booth I’m a bull inside a china shop Mollywhopper washin’ of a cotton pickin body drop Every time we rock, yo they actin’ like it’s Mardi Gras Til the party stop ‘sgirl was like she there for rory gel (the fuck?) So we saw you pumpin’ that Earth Wind and Fire body ya Cool the Prada Dakar la Merino hard body up You seen another rapper cleaner, mami prolly not How it feel to be the best that did it I’ll admit it I’m visiting from planet bring these niggas down for minutes And y’all know I’m exquisite Wicked as Wilson Pickett The sickness I exhibit I’m too legit to quit it I don’t fake it til I make it, I take it to the limit and break it Never tentative when I’m bad I represent it A feeling just like chases Been a million places Conversation is how beautiful my face is People hated on how sophisticated my taste is Then I pulled up on these motherfuckers in a spaceship Panther mind I’m made of elements you can’t combine I’m at a level of intelligence you can’t define Einstein, Shakespeare, Voltaire, Tesla Recording artist slash psychology professor I preach for the east Never fold under pressure The beast from the east and I glide like Clyde Drexler Eyo my new name is Eighty Five Exes cause I’m the rap game certified specialist When I was reckless I was worried ‘bout the guest list I’m helpin’ rappers everywhere fulfill a death wish Yo Flex, I’m glad we made contact My nigga also know, this shit for combat Brain matta contain too much data I tell a story like fingerprints and blood splatter

[mayewritesstuff-blog]

Eye of the Hurricane | Draco Malfoy

Requested by @ssweet-dizpositionn​: can you write an imaging where the reader is a halfblood that grew up in the muggle word. Then she came to hogwarts and was sorted to slytherin and eventually had something with draco. Then he set up a muggle date (even though he hates muggles) where they went to the amusement park and attended a concert of the reader’s fave artist knowing that the reader is a music freak hehe. +++extra fluff pls hehe

a/n: it’s been so long my friends, but life has kind of gotten in the way. Alsooo, (Y/F/N) stands for “Your Full Name”

word count: 1,921

EYE OF THE HURRICANE: The eye is a region of mostly calm weather at the center of strong tropical cyclones.

The big oak doors that led to the infamous Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry opened, revealing its full majestic glory; its four long house tables placed neatly and packed with students in black robes and its floating candles that moved swiftly underneath the enchanted ceiling, which mirrored the starry night sky outdoors.

(Y/N), being an eleven year old and having spent her whole life living in the Muggle World, couldn’t quite believe her eyes. When she received her Hogwarts letter, she couldn’t have been happier; her mother, a gifted witch, had always kept magic out of (Y/N)’s reach so she could learn to appreciate her father’s world. Now, it was finally her turn to experience magic first hand. She couldn’t be happier to be born a witch.

Professor McGonagall called out the names of her fellow companions, inviting them to sit on a wooden stool for the Sorting Hat to sort them in one of the four houses: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Finally, the strict witch called out her name.

“(Y/F/N)” she said.

(Y/N) took a sharp gasp and held her breath as she climbed up the steps and sat at the stool. The Sorting Hat was then placed on top of her head, and began whispering into her ear as the room watched attentively in silence.

“Mmm, I see…” the patched, ragged old hat said “I see –oh, well, well, well…”

“SLYTHERIN!” shouted The Sorting Hat. (Y/N) hopped off from the stool and made her way happily to the clapping table which bore the colors of green and silver proudly. As she took her seat next to a fifth year boy with a chubby nose and bright red cheeks, another person was sorted into the same house as hers.

A tall, blond, smug-looking boy took a seat in front of (Y/N), next to a boy that looked very much like a grumpy gorilla. He suddenly caught (Y/N) staring at him and shot her a smug smile, which she returned.

“I’m Malfoy,” the boy said confidently “Draco Malfoy. And this,” he signaled the boy next to him “is Crabbe.”

He stretched out his hand, and (Y/N) had to repress a giggle at how proper he was being. Nonetheless, she pulled out her own hand and took his with a firm grasp.

“I’m (Y/F/N)”

Ever since that night, Draco and (Y/N) became good friends. It wasn’t until the fourth year that they got closer –and not just in the friendly way. With hormones and puberty sweeping through the air and entering the now teenagers’ bodies through their skin and lungs, the two Slytherins began to see each other as more than friends. It wasn’t until December, with the Yule Ball approaching, that Draco dared to spill out his heart onto (Y/N)’s hands, confessing his most sincere feelings for her. Feelings, that he had never had had for anyone before.

And by art of the heavens, (Y/N) felt the same way about him too.

Now, two years later and with Draco’s birthday knocking on the door, he wanted to do something special for (Y/N). After he met her, it all stopped being about himself, so weeks prior to June, Draco contacted (Y/N)’s mother and asked for help, which ended in a mysterious envelope from a mysterious sender landing on the girl’s lap on a sunny afternoon at the Black Lake.

“(Y/N), from all the forty-six words you just said, I only understood one. And it was my name.”

Draco grunted as he saw that what he had just said didn’t reach (Y/N) at all. The girl was clutching a letter tightly to her chest as tears streamed down her face, letting out several squeals every now and then.

The boy looked around nervously, watching a group of seven years staring at them with judgmental looks plastered on their faces.

“(Y/N)…” he urged “Can you stop crying? People are staring…”

“Draco!” she cried excitedly. The girl then pulled out two rectangular pieces of paper and shoved them into the boy’s face. “Look at this!”

The blond took the papers and brought them closer to his face in order to read them, pretending to not understand a word.

“Who is Wembley Arena?” he said, narrowing his eyes. He then dropped his hand and stared at the girl with wide eyes. “Are you cheating on me?”

“What –no! Draco, no!” she said, taking the tickets from the boy’s hand. “Wembley Arena is not a who, is a where. It’s a venue for concerts!”  

“Oh,” he said, relaxing comically. “Wait, so those are tickets?”

“Yes!” (Y/N) exclaimed “for us!”

“Whoa –us? Who in their right mind would perform in a Muggle Arena?!” said Draco, scrunching up his nose at the thought of the Muggle World. He didn’t have to fake his look of disgust though.

“A Muggle band, you silly!” she said.

He held a hand up to (Y/N)’s face and processed her words slowly.

“You, (Y/N), my girlfriend, who knows me, better than anyone, want me to go to the Muggle World?” he said, pretending shock.

“Yes.” the girl said.

“No.”

“What –why?” argued (Y/N), furrowing her eyebrows in a confused manner.

“Come on, love, you know I strongly dislike Muggle stuff.” he said smoothly. Draco and (Y/N) had had many arguments about Draco’s hatred for Muggles that he had learned to say ‘strongly dislike’ instead of hate and ‘Muggle stuff’ instead of Muggles in general.

“I know,” grunted (Y/N). Then, her lips formed into a smile “But you strongly like me.”

“That I do.” said Draco, smiling warmly at her and moving forward to peck her lips lovingly.

“Come with me, please.” muttered (Y/N), still close to Draco’s face.

He sighed.

“Pleeease,” cried the girl “for me?”

She then pulled her best puppy face yet, sticking out her bottom lip and opening her eyes comically.

“Don’t,” grunted Draco, trying to cover the girl’s face with his hand, but failing miserably as she moved so he couldn’t touch it.

He then committed the big mistake of looking into her eyes. A soft smile etched upon his face as he realized he could no longer pretend.

Letting out a big grunt, he sighed.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” squealed (Y/N) as she threw her arms around his neck and planted kisses all over his face.

--

The summer holidays arrived with high expectations from (Y/N) and deep regret from Draco. He, of course, hadn’t dared telling his parents that he was travelling to the Muggle World –what would they say? Instead, he had chosen to lie and say he was spending the first days of summer at a friend’s house, when, in reality, he was sitting on a “Taxi Cab”, as (Y/N) had called it, making their way to a park.

Once they arrived, the Slytherin boy was completely surprised –he was expecting to see a big, boring green land displayed in front of his eyes. Instead, there were all types of machines, colorful lights and booths all around the place.

“Love?” he called, trying to stay away from Muggle’s touch, as the place seemed to be overflown with them. “Didn’t you say we were going to a park?”

“This, Draco, is an amusement park.” she said.

Before Draco could really begin to comprehend what his girlfriend had just said, (Y/N) had pulled her into a line.

“What is this?” he asked, glaring at the Muggles in front of them.

“We’re going on this one.” declared (Y/N), referring to the rollercoaster.

“And why do we have to stand here?”

“Uh, wait for our turn?” (Y/N) said as if it was the most obvious thing on Earth. Next, Draco scoffed and pulled his girlfriend further into the line, ignoring all sorts of protests from the bystanders and managing to reach the very beginning of the line, crossing the boy who was securing the rollercoaster’s seats and picking the very last place available.

“Draco!” gasped the girl, with a mixture of surprise and shock.

The security bars suddenly went down, making Draco jump on his seat and reach for (Y/N).

“What is happening?” he asked, sounding nervous.

The girl let out a loud laugh.

“It’s beginning. Hold my hand.”

(Y/N) stretched her hand out for his boyfriend to hold. He took it in less than a second and held onto it tightly.

The attraction suddenly began moving forward slowly. Draco looked pretty calm –after all, it was like that ride that they had taken on the “Taxi Cab”. Then the worst came.

Just as the machine moved forward and Draco relaxed, a big, high fall stood above them. The boy furrowed his eyebrows, but thought nothing about it –that, until he heard the people at the very front row scream as they descended.

He instinctively tightened his grip on (Y/N)’s hand, wishing with all his heart to Appareate somewhere else as the machine dropped quickly and dramatically. Draco let out a wail of fear as (Y/N) screamed with joy. This continued until the end of the ride, which left the boy looking paler than usual.

“Are you okay?” (Y/N) asked as she watched her boyfriend clutch his chest.

“Never again, (Y/N)” he panted.

Since then, Draco refused to go on any attractions that seemed extreme –even the Ferris wheel. Instead, they just spent the rest of the day playing small arcade games, in which (Y/N) got most of the prizes, and then searched for food until it was time to leave. They took a small Taxi Cab once again and headed to the Wembley Arena, where (Y/N)’s favorite band would be performing in a matter of minutes.

They finally arrived, and even if Draco was disgusted with how much Muggles were crowded in a single place, he couldn’t stop staring at his girl, who was beyond excited, even in the dull light of expectation as the crowd waited for the concert to begin. The only time he had ever seen (Y/N) that happy was when both finally declared their feelings for each other, two years ago with the dopamine flowing through their fourteen year old bodies. Hell, it was even the same face of pure ecstasy and joy; a nervous, yet big smile plastered on her plump lips that he adored so much, big, shinning eyes that became small every time she smiled and that same old nervous tick of pushing her hair behind her ear every two minutes.

--àSuddenly, the lights went off and (Y/N) let out a scream, clutching Draco’s arm firmly as the first chords of a guitar echoed through the arena. Her hand found his in a matter of seconds, and as a surreal light illuminated her face, Draco could only stare at her, completely dumbfounded. It all seemed to be moving in slow motion, almost like the world wanted him to admire every single piece of her.

Then, she looked at him. Her silky hair moving down her shoulders and the luminous lights casting a shadow on one half of her face, and It was in that moment that Draco knew he had picked out the best gift for himself until now.

“I love you.” said Draco. He could only just assume that she had read her lips, for the music was too loud and her face had drawn a beautifully warm smile.

And as a guitar solo began, the distance between them became inexistent as their lips touched, leaving them in a state that resembled the eye of the hurricane as they kissed.

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[akemilena]

SolidS Unit Song Series COLOR -WHITE-

Soliradi Special Mini mini Edition (ver. WHITE)

Drama || Translation index

Rikka: To all of SolidS’ fans: hello!

Tsubasa: All of SolidS’ members are delivering to all of you this live broadcast-style radio!

Dai: SolidS radio, also known as Soliradi…

Shiki: Special mini mini edition… it’s~ sta~rting~!!

Tsubasa: Yes! It’s here, it’s the time of Soliradi. Everyone in front of the radio: we meet again! I’m today’s main personality, Okui Tsubasa!

Rikka: Likewise, I’m Sera Rikka from SolidS. It’s finally the last episode of Soliradi mini mini edition. Let’s have fun until the end!

Dai: I’m Murase Dai from SolidS. Thanks to all the listeners’ support, I have the feeling I got used to the radio. Though I’m not used to the other member’s merriness. I’ll do my best and try not to lose.

Shiki: I’m SolidS’ producer and leader Takamura Shiki. Let’s have a lot of fun today tooo!

Dai: This is what I mean.

Rikka: The four of us together are SolidS! Please take care of us.

Tsubasa: Well! So after the introductions, let’s go for the explanation of Soliradi.

Shiki: In Soliradi, the members of SolidS become radio personalities and deliver this in public recordings and live broadcasts. It’s a heart-throbbing radio.

Rikka: From the messages and questions we received beforehand, our leader Shiki selects some. And while reading those, we answer them as much as we can. It’s that kind of radio.

Dai: While enjoying the interactions with the listeners, we also hope for you to know more about us, and continue supporting us. This radio has this kind of wish included, but…

Tsubasa: But?

Dai: … Won’t people think “this is different to what I imagined”?

Tsubasa: *bitter laugh* Well yeah, I can’t deny that. Like Shiki, or Shiki, or Shiki, or Shiki, or Shiki!!!! Doing whatever he wants!!! But, you know, Dai-chan? And the listeners too? It depends how you look at it.

Rikka: Yep, yep.

Tsubasa: Our super coolness as idols. And the friendliness behind it. You get to know both of them and enjoy the difference… well… you know, gap moe! Gap moe!

Shiki: You’re making me blush.

Tsubasa: I’m not charmed though.

Rikka: *laughs* I got to see Shiki when he has fun, and Tsubasa’s retorts and his reliability to make conversations advance, and Dai’s bare cuteness, so I like Soliradi.

Dai: It’s not like I’m cute.

Rikka: You’re cute!

Dai: I’m not.

Shiki: You’re cute!

Dai: Ugh… go to the next!!!

Tsubasa: Okay, okaaaay. Well then, let’s go with the messag-

Shiki: Question!

Tsubasa: O-ooh, what is it, why are you raising your hand? Erm, Shiki-kun?

Shiki: Usually, the one who reads the question is the one who the message is directed to. But this time, I’m thinking of changing the direction and make someone else read the question, as if it was an interview.

Rikka: Oh, that sounds fun!

Shiki: To accept the fans’ feels and make them bigger and stronger is our duty as idols. In exchange for the listeners, the other members convey their feelings. Read the messages properly while reflecting upon the importance of that.

Tsubasa: Mm, yeah, that’s fine, but I feel there’s something behind…

Shiki: Okay! Then, a message for Tsubasa, from Dai. This.

Dai: Eh, me? Uh… From Miki-san. “A question for Tsuu-kun. Tsuu-kun, you always look very energetic, but how do you change your mood when you get depressed? If you don’t mind, please tell us. I’ll be supporting you from now on too. … T-Tsuu-kun, I love you.”

Shiki: I… wanted Dai to say Tsuu-kun…

Tsubasa: Only because of that, right?! It’s really only because of it that you included all this pretense!!!!

Dai: Ngh…

Rikka: Dai is completely red. Good work.

Shiki: Come on, Tsubasa. The reply, the reply!

Tsubasa: Don’t “the reply, the reply” me! Tsk, but the message is not at fault. *clears throat* Um, Miki-san, thank you so much for the support. My way to change my mood, huh… Chatting, shopping, and walking around the city, I guess? Anyway, if I get shut in in my own world, I end up overthinking, you know… like, my mood gets even worse. I try to force myself to get out and interact with the outside world. When you’re depressed, I think there are times when you want people to leave you alone, but it’s okay to think “don’t leave me alone” too!

Rikka: Didn’t expect any less. Actually replying properly, that’s our Tsubasa. Excellent, excellent!

Tsubasa: Rikka is so healing~

Shiki: Well then, a message for Rikka, Tsubasa.

Tsubasa: Roger! Here, from Kono-san. “To Rikka-san, hello! It’s a bit sudden, but in Rikka-san’s solo song there’s the word “Cinderella” in the lyrics. If you could become a character from a fairy tale, which would you like to be?”

Dai: I was the only one who got the difficult message to read or what…

Rikka: *laughs* Thank you for your question. A character from a fairy tale, huh… I think I would like to become a wizard.

Tsubasa: Oooh! I think there are a lot of wizards everywhere, but which?

Rikka: The witch from The Little Mermaid.

Dai: A villain?

Rikka: I don’t think you can really call them that. That witch, originally, made true the wish of the little mermaid to become human, which was impossible. Even if it was with a lot of conditions. It was the little mermaid herself who chose a dangerous bet, and I think you can’t really call the witch “bad”. There’s no clear “good” or “bad”… I feel… it was just a person who could use magic.

Shiki: You admire that?

Rikka: Yep. I know it’s a bit rare, though.

Dai: Only a bit?

Rikka: *laughs* Maybe not a bit.

Shiki: Next, a question for me. Rikka.

Rikka: Okaaay~ Eh, here we have one from Boxer pants-san. “To Shiki-san. I’m studying music, but lately I can’t focus on practicing and I’m unmotivated. Please scold me.”

Shiki: Fight!!! Scooold!!

Tsubasa: That’s short!! You chose one you could finish quickly, right?! Tsk, as if I would let Shiki be the only one comfortable!! Where are the spares!! Er, around here?! Eh, here, from Hiyako-san. “Please give me a coffee.”

Shiki: A coffee for you!

Tsubasa: Here, from Tomato-san. “How can I draw well a gorilla?”

Shiki: Search for images of gorillas~! Let’s try to draw it while looking at them.

Tsubasa: Here, from Sute koinu-san. “Tell me a kind of broth other than oden that goes well with rice!”

Shiki: Ramen rice is good, too!

Tsubasa: No, the questions for you are all way too dry!! And have nothing to do with idols!!

Dai: If you’re going to put it on rice, salmon flakes and nori. Also, minced meat. I like to pour hot water over it.

Tsubasa: Dai-chan, you’re expanding that?! Uh, I like to put on canned whole tomatoes, throw cheese over it and make a risotto, though?!

Rikka: I like ochazuke with dried plum and salted konbu.

Shiki: This really shows our interests. If you have warm white rice with a meal, everyone is happy and energetic.

Tsubasa: Okaaay, again there’s nothing left of SolidS in this radio…!

Shiki: In that case, we’ll take back SolidS’ soul with the next message! Dai!!! From Rina-san. “Hello. Dai-chan, inside of SolidS, you’re the youngest child, right? I’m the oldest daughter so I don’t know, but tell us what’s difficult of being the youngest child. Also, I’d be happy if you tell us the good parts of it, too.”

Dai: Youngest child… well, age-wise I guess I’ll be that.

Tsubasa: Hmm… Age aside, personality-wise, I think the little brother position suits you too.

Shiki: That’s right. Dai is the younger brother type.

Dai: Uh… am I that unreliable?

Tsubasa: *laughs* No, no, you’re reliable too, and we’re depending on you! But not in that sense, I mean that you’re the type to be spoiled, not the one that spoils. You can also call in the teased position too~

Rikka: Yep yep. You’re the tallest, and your way of talking and personality are very calm. You’re cool but… there are times you suddenly show us your cute side, right? As seen from the outside, we end up wanting to look after you.

Shiki: Cool, but cute. Our pride and joy: our youngest child. That’s it.

Dai: What’s difficult is being teased by these three brocons like this, and being played by them.

Tsubasa: *laughs*

Dai: What’s good is… that while they tease me and play me, they teach me a lot of things, and make me grow up.

Rikka: Dai…! Yes, that’s true. We also learn a lot of things from you, and grow up, too.

Shiki: What a touching story!!

Tsubasa: Your intervention is ruining it though.

Rikka: Well, with this we’ve done one round?

Dai: It seems… we still have a bit of time.

Tsubasa: Okay, let’s read as many as we can! Here, from Saetaro-san. “If someone says, “let’s go on a date tomorrow!” where would you take them?” Hmm… let’s see, first of all to a café that has a super delicious morning menu, and have a great breakfast! And while eating, I’d like to decide where we go together.

Shiki: Hm. Like the meeting we always do on mornings.

Tsubasa: That’s totally different!!!

Rikka: Next, from Mira-san. “This CD’s colour is white, so what is the first thing that comes to mind when you hear ‘white’”? Hmm… a pure white shirt with a simple silhouette. It’s something you can wear with everything and go anywhere.

Dai: The fact that clothes is the first thing that comes to your mind is so like you.

Rikka: What’s the first thing that comes to your mind?

Dai: Uh… a fluffy futon?

Rikka: *laughs* Even if it’s also the bed, the fact that you didn’t say white sheets is very like you, and very cute.

Dai: From Batako-san. “The other day, Tsubasa exposed a secret episode from you, so this time I really want you to expose a secret from him too.” … Ah… While he was getting his make-up done, they gave him a magazine to kill time, and he was reading the fortune-telling page super focused.

Tsubasa: You reveal that here?? But that’s, you know, don’t you check to know what do you get? Like those where you add all the numbers of your birth date.

Dai: I have zero interest in it, so I won’t do it.

Tsubasa: You traitor~

Rikka: I understand. I end up checking it too.

Tsubasa: Rikka!!! My kindred soul!!!

Shiki: I don’t even have the chance to get magazines with features like that.

Tsubasa: You’re also reading documents or working during the free time while you get your make-up done, right?

Shiki: I have a slight interest in horoscopes, though. Wishing on a shining star…!

Tsubasa: Um, yeah. I’m sure even the stars are surprised about how the line and the energy and the appearance don’t match.

Shiki: Here, from Kino-san. “Speaking of Shiki-san, you always talk very passionately about your home town, Nagano Prefecture, so if you have any places we should go to if we visit Nagano, or any food recommendations, please tell us”. Okay, Nagano! The theme is Nagano. WELCOME TO LONG FIELD.

Dai: He’s more excited than ever.

Shiki: This is a personal opinion, so I’ll accept any objection. My recommended spots are Matsumoto Castle, Utsukushigahara’s starry sky, Suwa taisha. Aside from these, city sights are also fun, but I also want you to go to the suburbs by car, bus or train and see Nagano’s typical natural splendour. About food, soba is famous, and there are many restaurants so I’d almost want you to eat and compare them, but if you have time, I’d be happy if you try temaki sushi wrapped in bamboo grass, or sasazushi. Depending on the region, the ingredients are different, and those differences are fun, too.

Tsubasa: Hey Shiki, you’re talking even longer than when you talk about music!

Rikka: I guess it’s nice to love your homeland so much…

Tsubasa: Ah come on, let’s go to the next, next! Time-wise, maybe the last? Here, from Torihi-san. Thank you! “To everyone. Please say a line that will make girls skip a beat! Please!” Hey, at least the last one, let’s make it idol-like! I chose this one with this wish in mind.

Rikka: Tsubasa, you’re excellent!

Dai: I’m not good at this, okay… I do want to make people happy, though…

Shiki: Don’t worry, Dai. There are girls that have already skipped a beat with that line just now. Okaaay, I’ll do my best!!

Dai: That’s a huge flag.

Shiki: No, at the end I’ll do it seriously.

Rikka: “At the end”, he said.

Tsubasa: Okay then, I’m starting!

Thank you for listening until now. I had a lot of fun talking with you today. I want to see you again… we can meet again, right? While looking forward to that… tonight, dream about me, okay? It’s a promise. *kiss*

This was Okui Tsubasa from SolidS!

Rikka: The COLOR trilogy, dyed in many colours. And the special edition of Soliradi, is ending with this one. Thank you for staying with us until the end. When you’re tired, or you’re feeling sad, or in sleepless nights… if I could be by your side… Thinking that, I sing songs, and words, wishing that my feelings will reach you…

This was Sera Rikka!

Dai: The COLOR series, where I sang many different songs with the other members. It was fun. Thank you. I want to meet you again. I’ll believe we’ll meet again.

This was Murase Dai.

Shiki: And so, the unit song COLOR series, was completed. Red, black, white, I hoped you enjoyed the respective songs. Groping to show different individuality and amusement, the members sang with all their might the songs I made with all my might. I’m grateful, from the bottom of my heart, that I can deliver my songs to all of you. Well… a line that will make them skip a beat at the end…

It was fun, thank you.

Okay, good work! We’re going drinking, you guys!!

Tsubasa & Rikka & Dai: Yeah!!

Drama || Translation index

TL notes:

Nagano (長野) means, literally, long (長-い) field (野). Yes, I know. Yes, you can hit him.

I put some links to photos of the spots Shiki mentions so you can get a visual image. They all look beautiful, I want to go too ;_;

And with this CD, the second season is over!! Only a few more CDs to catch up~ thanks for reading!

[cursedcandyroses]

My 5th Birthday Present To Macklemore & Ryan Lewis’“The Heist”

A gift like this isn’t something you wrap up all nice and neatly in the way some poor bastard working in a JCPenney’s around Christmas time would prefer to do it. This is one of those big gifts your parents drunkenly set up overnight in the backyard, slapped a bow on it, and the next morning said “Hey, go get your sister we have something cool for her”. My gift to “The Heist” is something that isn’t given often. It’s the gift of perspective, the gift of a defense, the gift of an explanation that may sway the still-salty Hip-Hop traditionalist inside of all of us. A gift that will be presented with dignity, grace, and by giving all the projects bed-time-story-book-level equivalents . “The Heist” rightfully won the Grammy for the best Hip-Hop album at the 2014 Grammy’s. Yeah, the Grammy they won over Jay-Z, Kanye, Kendrick and Drake. An album that came out in 2012 and became every soccer mom’s entrance into a world they stand out in (like Macklemore in most Hip-Hop events not attended by execs) Besides how strange is was that the award was given out in 2014, but thanks to the Olympics and the odd Grammy rules made it that way so we’re gonna sit down and like it. This was the year the little Seattle duo should have been honored to even be mentioned in the same breath as artists so many leagues above them. But there was a method behind the impending madness.

THE QUALITY TALK

Now as far as quality of the overall album, the only project nominated that year that was worse than “The Heist” was Jay-Z’s beautifully produced coconut of an album we call “Magna Carta Holy Grail”. Now since we’re on quality Kendrick’s “good kid, m.A.A.d. city” is in a different universe compared to “The Heist”. As far as other nominees went “Yeezus” was seen as one of the most polarizing albums since Kanye’s last experiment, 2008′s “808′s & Heartbreak”, yet was still critically acclaimed, and Drake’s “Nothing Was The Same” was seen as containing some of Drake’s best work to date. The win here goes to Kendrick, but Macklemore and company are no slouch. 

Round 1 Elimination: “Magna Carta Holy Grail”

THE POLITICAL TALK

Now we all know Kanye’s history with the Grammy’s, and that is something he may never be truly forgiven for in White America and the Committee’s eyes. If “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy” can’t win Album Of The Year while being one of the most raved about albums of ALL TIME, do you really think they’re going to give an award to something like “Yeezus” an album comparable to a silverback gorilla when woken from a very wonderful nap featuring a grand dream only to see that his shoes are being eaten by the weaklings of the jungle. As powerful as an enraged sneakerhead ape may be, it is again no match for the crushing strength of the Grammy Committee and its voters, which in this scenario we’re gonna picture as the Justice League if the Justice League was made up of guys who looked like Mitch McConnell and former winners.

Round 2 Elimination: “Yeezus”

THE REALLY BIG NUMBERS TALK

Now the Grammy’s have claimed for years in statements and in the description of what makes an “Album Of The Year” ( “ ..honor artistic achievement, technical proficiency and overall excellence in the recording industry, without regard to album sales or chart position.”) that sales have no influence on the future winner. Yet looking back at past winners of “Best Rap Album Of The Year” up until that year over 65% of the winners either had higher first week & total sales for the time leading to the award being given or more top 10 singles in comparison to it’s competitors. Oddly enough “The Heist” had the lowest first week sales of all the nominees with only 78k compared to 658k (Drake), 528k (Jay-Z), 370k (Kanye) and 242k (Kendrick). As far as singles went is where something strange happens. Kendrick had no Billboard Top 10 Hits, yet 3 singles moved into the Billboard Hip-Hop Top 10. 

*SIDEBAR: DIFFERENTIATING THE BILLBOARD CHARTS*

For those unknowing of the difference between the different types of Billboard Charts here’s a quick breakdown.

Every genre of music has their own individual chart, making it easier for artists to compare themselves to their contemporaries. R&B songs will be put against R&B, jazz against jazz etc. Now there is the Billboard Hot 100 Chart. This chart is a comprehensive ranking of songs regardless of genre, to see who has the most popular songs whether it is a hip-hop record or a rock record. A key thing to realize is that just because you have the most popular hip-hop song, that doesn’t mean you have the most popular song over the entire span of music. For example Migos could hold the #1 spot on the Hip-Hop/R&B charts because it is the highest selling and highest played hip-hop song, but the #1 song on the Billboard Hot 100 could be a song by Justin Bieber. Now back to our regularly scheduled bedtime story. 

Yet compared to Drake and Macklemore, Kendrick was left in the dust. This is the part in the story where our hometown hero, picture Bruce Lee mixed with the great Achilles but way cooler and travels the globe in a balancing out level uncool mini-van, becomes stagnant in the battle for the hallowed Grammy, and by forces against his powers falls to the wayside.Young Kung Fu Kenny has failed himself, yet made his hometown so proud. So now the only competition Macklemore faces is the Lightskin Megalodon in a Raptors jersey we know as Aubrey “Drake” Graham. Drake peaked with his (at the time) second highest charting single behind “Best I Ever Had” (which peaked at #2) with what has become a staple wedding song in “Hold On, We’re Going Home” a track that peaked on the Billboard Charts at #4. Not only did Drizzy hit the Top 10 with the Majid Jordan assisted track, he also hit #6 on the Billboard Charts with the anthem “Started From The Bottom”. Both monstrous and inescapable songs during this time period. Yet the international outreach wasn’t really there. North America loves Drake, yet as far as international chart rankings “Hold On” peaked in the Top 10 in 9 countries. Now this is the part were most people wished they had had a warning before hearing. So here it is; shit’s about to get soul crushing. Macklemore & Ryan Lewis hit the Top 10 in over 20 countries with TWO different singles. Yes, those white boys took Hip-Hop across the globe with “Can’t Hold Us” and “Thrift Shop” (the later of which hit number 1, the absolute peak position, in TWELVE non-North American countries.) You couldn’t even avoid the annoyingly toxicating horns of “Thrift Shop” in Lebanon, a country Drake hit number 2 in which makes me wonder if Lebanon is either a) the ultimate hypebeasts of American music or b) a country of questionable taste, yet i again digress. The Drake-alodon (yeah that’s what we’re going with) has finally met it’s match.The only duo on Earth that, against all odds, can defeat any who stand in it’s way. Mack & Ryan are the Sam & Dean Winchester of this fabulous tale (and to those who have never watched “Supernatural” and don’t get this reference, like, what the fuck guys come on). Thought just mortals in a battle against beings much more powerful than them, they find a way to take down all in their path, though they aren’t motivated in the same “save world” type way most heroes have, it’s more in the “family business” type way. Forging their musical careers in the most ironic way possible, by literally starting from the bottom with no chance of ever making it this far, the tag team has found a way to come out victorious. 

Round 3 Eliminations (The Double Wammy Round): “good kid, m.A.A.d. city” & “Nothing Was The Same”

THE X-FACTOR TALK

Now yes Drake was pummeled thanks to the powers of a European and Pacific terrestrial radio fanbase, but by the grace of Wayne Gretzky Drake is given a second wind. Now we get a smidge serious and look into what led Macklemore here, in a less-then-story-book-level way. Another field Sir Mac crossed that Drake could not, is a message. “The Heist” was a vehicle carrying tales of pain from addiction, ideologies of equality, and being true to oneself over beats that didn’t fit the typical Hip-Hop mold. Though yes Kanye screamed in hopes of being accepted, and Kendrick crafted a story that comes to life to often, they didn’t meet the previous qualifications. Drake and Jay boasted their way threw their tracks with only glimpses into anything more than opulence and success, a characteristic Macklemore rarely touched, and heavily spoke down upon on tracks. A humble, conscious, loveable loser is a storyline the mainstream public can relate to more than a prodigy like Kendrick, a wealthy businessman (and a business, MAN) like Jay, an angry and disgruntled creative like Kanye, or an innovative powerhouse like Drake. That was the X-factor in what has become one of the most controversial Grammy moments in Hip-Hop history. A factor Macklemore and Ryan Lewis may or may not have intentionally used to leverage their way into the hearts and radios of America, and the world. Though the Drake-alodon seemed to have caught our heros by surprise by lashing back once again, they knew far to well to grow comfortable with success. With a final blow to the monsters impeccable beard, the monster was sent flying into the stars, not to be viewed again (at least for a few years anyway). Our heroes have finally reached the pinnacle, with their competitors left deep in the their dust. Now holding the Grammy in their hand, they feel as if they have finally done it. They have reached what they have dreamt of their whole lives, in a moment they’d never give up. At least Ryan wouldn’t want to give up, because within hours Sir Mac is sending a carrier pigeon to The Chosen One, a young Kung Fu Kenny to apologize about not helping him out. 

Final Round Elimination: “Nothing Was The Same” (for real this time)

Now back to reality, where I tuck “The Heist” back into my CD holder and tuck it away for a while until i build up the want to listen to it again, which may or may not ever come back. By all official and unofficial qualifications the indie duo outshined its competitors in numerous ways. Don’t get me wrong “good kid m.A.A.d. city” is an album my GRANDCHILDREN will be given as a birthday present, probably more than once. But “The Heist” crossed international barriers and at the end of the day showed Hip-Hop to parts of the globe the Kendrick’s and Drake’s of the world have only just begun crossing into. Macklemore isn’t the best version of Hip-Hop i personally want the world to see, but he isn’t the worst. An indie artist who crafted legendary crossover songs is still an artist very much who gives props to his backpacker influences and inspirations such as The Hieroglyphics, Talib Kweli, Mobb Deep and Wu-Tang Clan. The duo of Macklemore & Ryan Lewis earned the Award of Best Hip-Hop album in 2014 by filling nearly every box, and leave a bigger check mark then their competitors. It isn’t groundbreaking work, it isn’t life changing work, but it is work that deserved the Grammy that night in January.

[aughtpunk]

McHanzo Week 2017 - Day 5

Once upon a time, roughly twenty years ago, Jesse McCree had a nice dream.

The dream had been one of those super-realistic ones you ever only hear other people talk about. It started out a bit on the strange side with it being taking place the far-off future where Overwatch was being run by a talking gorilla from the moon. There was also a young British woman there apologizing for ‘time abnormalities’ and promising to get Jesse back to his proper home. But that wasn’t the nice part of the dream. No, that had been Hanzo.

Jesse was forever thankful to whatever part of his subconscious that thought Hanzo up. Hanzo was quite literally the lover of his dreams. A beautiful, dangerous man that was so eager to please and with a body Jesse played like a fiddle. As the other details of the dream faded over time his night with this imaginary man did not. He knew it was just a silly fantasy, but that never stopped him from replaying it over in his head during the long, lonely nights.

Years passed. Jesse met a talking gorilla from the moon and a young British woman slightly unstuck in time. Outside of an odd feeling of deja vu he didn’t really think about it. Not until the Recall, and his reunion with his old friend Genji. The good news was that Genji had finally gotten his head on straight. The bad news?

“You can’t kill him.” Genji said, blocking the only exit out of the kitchen with his body.

“I ain’t gonna kill him, Genji.” Jesse said as he began to inch over to the side, only to be blocked by Genji again. “I just want to have a few words with him. Maybe break a finger or two.”

“Jesse.” Genji growled, “I have forgiven my brother. The pain he has inflicted upon himself should be more than enough for your bloodlust.”

“Yeah yeah he’s all eaten up inside, I know, but I’m just saying he’ll really learn his lesson if he’s also missing a few molars.”

“Jesse Nathaniel McCree-” Genji started, but never got to finish. In an underhanded move that made Jesse feel like a true rat he slammed a flashbang down, blinding his old dear light-sensitive friend. He rolled through the doorway and sprinted down the hall before Genji could even begin to recover. He was a heel, a true bastard, but at least he wasn’t a brother killer.

Jesse didn’t care how much harmony and forgiveness Genji had pouring out of him. There were things in this world that were unforgivable. Justice wasn’t going to dispense itself, after all. Halfway to the main entrance his gun ached to be used. Right this wrong. Make him pay for what Genji had gone through. He rounded a corner and bumped right into someone heading the other way.

“‘Cuse me-”

“My apologies-”

Jesse stopped. The man stopped.

Moving in sync both men turned around to stare at each other. Or, in Jesse’s case, stare at the man’s tattooed arm. He knew that tattoo. He still dreamed about that tattoo. The memory of tracing every inch of that dragon with his tongue was etched deep into his soul. If he hadn’t been so busy looking at said tattoo he might have noticed the stranger was staring at his old lucky belt buckle. The one he had been wearing since he first joined Overwatch.

Their eyes met. Even if Jesse didn’t recognize that tattoo he sure as hell remembered those eyes. It was Jesse who spoke first, finally breaking the silence between them.

“Didn’t we make out in a dream once?”

***

“It’s possible, love.” Lena hung upside-down from the chin-up bar, her knees being the only thing keeping her suspended. “If old-glowy-blue here got damaged there’s a chance everything could get a bit muddled up.”

Jesse sunk back against the mirrored gym wall. He didn’t care what Angela said, nothing on God’s green Earth would get him to exercise daily. But it didn’t stop him from coming to the gym to be friendly. “Ain’t you worried? We know it’s going to happen at some point.”

Lena gave Jesse an upside-down shrug. “Well clearly you and Hanzo get back, and you both saw me there just fine, so there’s nothing really to worry about!”

“Wish I had a drop of your sunshine, hang on, Hanzo’s talked to you about it?”

“Mmm-hmm. I was a bit worried I’d have to give him my ‘you can’t change the past’ speech what with, well, you know. But instead he just told me about this weird so-called dream he had years ago. Wanted to verify that it really happened I guess.”

“Ah.” Jesse cleared his throat. “Well-”

“Then he asked me a whole bunch of questions like ‘how long has that cowboy owned that belt buckle’, and ‘has the cowboy always used terrible pick up lines’, and a few on when you and I met. I think he was trying to suss out a timeline of events.” Lena playfully narrowed her eyes. “You know, you never mentioned that you met Hanzo during all that nonsense.”

Jesse focused on an odd stain on the floor and hope his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “Wasn’t important.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Lena repeated, her own face bright red due to gravity-related reasons, “So I guess it’s ‘not important’ that Hanzo’s been staring at you from the treadmills for the past fifteen minutes?”

Jesse’s head whipped around in time to see Hanzo on said treadmill, walking at what was clearly the slowest speed possible. But the second their eyes met Hanzo misstepped and fell down with the grace of a duck on an all-night bender.

Lena winced. “You might want to go help him out, love.”

“Think I might need some help too.” Jesse muttered as he went to help Hanzo and face what would probably be the most awkward conversation of his life.

***

No one really used the gym’s locker room anymore. There really wasn’t a point with such a low amount of active agents in the base. Which was good because Jesse didn’t want anyone to stumble upon Hanzo sitting on a wood bench together in complete silence. At least his fear of an awkward talk was unfounded. That being said he wasn’t sure if the unspoken questions between them were any better.

Hanzo finally broke the silence with a weak “Did you know?”

Jesse shook his head. “Nah. Didn’t meet Lena and Winston til almost ten years after, after. Did you really think…?”

Hanzo nodded. “Foolish, perhaps.”

“We were just two dumb kids.” Jesse said, “Wasn’t like we knew any better. Say uh, does Genji-”

“Yes. And he will not stop laughing about it.” To Jesse’s surprise Hanzo smiled. “It is good to hear him laugh again.”

“He’s still an asshole.”

“Very.”

Silence again. All he could hear was the beating of his own heart in his ears and the distant whine of the air conditioner. After a quick inner debate between screaming and running for it Jesse decided to go for a third, possibly even worse, choice. “You damned near ruined me, you know that?”

Jesse saw Hanzo’s head jerk up out of the corner of his eye. The other man didn’t say anything, so Jesse continued. “For years I thought it was some weird mental block. Every time I found ah, a nice distraction, I’d just end up thinking about the man of my dreams. If I had known you were real I would have hunted you down and married ya on the spot.”

Hanzo let out an undignified snort. “After a single night together?”

“Darlin’, you’re the best I’ve ever had. Never been with a soul that ever made me feel that way before or since.”

“Likewise.” Said Hanzo, his voice barely above a whisper. Hanzo’s hand was close to Jesse’s, almost touching, but not quite. But then Hanzo smiled, that smile Jesse had thought of so many times before, and took Jesse’s hand within his own. “Marriage is rather drastic, but I would not say no to dinner. I do believe that is more traditional.”

Jesse grinned and squeezed Hanzo’s hand back. “You wanna try all proper-like this time?”

Hanzo scooted closer so that their legs were touching. “By my understanding it has not happened yet.”

“That’s, true, I guess, I mean it has happened, just not happened-happened, you just gotta accept that it has both not-happened and will-happen while at the same time has happened already-”

Jesse’s musings on time travel were thankfully cut short by a soft, sweet, downright romantic kiss from Hanzo. The kiss was nothing like their first, but Jesse loved it just the same. He also didn’t mind it so much when the kiss got a little out of control, or how it lead to him and Hanzo running back to his bedroom hand-in-hand. They might have done things a little out of order, but they both found each other once again.

Which technically hadn’t happened the first time yet.

(BEAN ME)

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: The Swiftest Course (Ao3) (Chapter 6/8)

Fandom: Flash, DC’s Legends Pairing: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart/Mick Rory, Eddie Thawne/Iris West Summary:

Barry of Allen is on his way to the capital of Tortall for the final part of his knight training, hiding a secret that could threaten his career there. He’s determined to keep his head down and not get into trouble.

He isn’t expecting to meet Len, Corus’ Rogue, or his right-hand man, Mick. Or meet Princess Iris and his new friends, Cisco and Caitlin.

He certainly wasn’t expecting to be roped into adventure.

(It’s the Gods’ fault, really.)

A/N: For joyous-lee, who purchased one of my stories for the FandomTrumpsHate event. She requested a Tortall AU, with Barry as Alanna. Thank you so much for your patience, and I hope you enjoy it!

——————————————————————————————–

Cisco and Caitlin end up being...totally fine with the whole mage thing.

"A mage? Really?" Caitlin says. "That's really interesting - have you given any thought to combining your abilities the way they used to in Good King Jonathan and Queen Thayet's day?"

"Of course you'd focus on the historical significance," Cisco says, rolling his eyes. "Seriously, Bar, you're a speedster mage? How could you not tell us that we could've all gotten our chores done in under ten minutes?"

"Because I'm not going to do your chores for you?" Barry suggests, smiling.

Cisco clutches at his heart dramatically. "I've been wronged!"

Barry sticks out his tongue.

Caitlin rolls her eyes and says "Boys!" and that's the end of it.

"So, only one question," Caitlin says. "Why now?"

"What do you mean?" Cisco asks her.

"Barry clearly had a reason for telling us now," she says. "I don't think it's coincidence that we're dealing with the Sweating Sickness and Barry is one of the few unaffected mages."

"It's not," Barry says, and tells them the rest: running through the streets to search for the caster's station, Faithful distracting him, the dead street, Malady, even Eddie's explanation about string magic.

Cisco and Caitlin exchange looks. "The hooded man?" he asks.

"The hooded man," she confirms.

Barry frowns at them, bewildered; his only consolation is that Iris looks just as lost. "What's that?"

"It's from the swamp-lands," Cisco explains. "From where Malady runs most free. They've invented an outfit that's called the hooded man - a special type of waxed clothing designed to keep out any liquid and most gases. People wear it all over to block any route for disease to come to you. My family's been working on importing it to try to make an improved rain gear, but there ought to be enough to make you a proper hooded man outfit."

"My mother sent me one of the masks to study," Caitlin adds. "It's a long, curved beak, with magic herbs and spells carved alongside the beak to permit only good air through. It's how you breathe in the suit."

"And you think that'll protect me?"

"The results until now have been pretty good," Caitlin says. "It's the best we've got."

The costume of the hooded man is intimidating, to say the least. It takes less than two days for Cisco to put together the outfit - boots and pants and coat and cloak, as many layers as a man going out to the mountains in winter - and for Caitlin to get the mask, which as she'd explained was a long, sinister-looking creation with bulbous black glass eyes and no gap for a mouth.

"I'm going to scare everybody I see," Barry says flatly. "You couldn't find a color other than red and yellow?"

"This is it," Caitlin says. "Unless you'd like to try your luck without it."

"Don't even think about it," Len says, here on one of his infrequent visits. He reaches out and rubs the heavy cloth between his fingers. "This is the good stuff, Barry - I've seen blood-cloth less resistant than this."

Caitlin nods, but Iris frowns. "Blood-cloth?"

"Butchers and surgeons wear it to repel blood that splashes onto their clothing," Caitlin explains.

"Not just those professions," Len murmurs with a smirk that fades as he looks at Barry. "I hate that it's gotta be you."

"I'm the only mage around who missed the initial rounds of infection," Barry replies with a sigh. He wishes it didn't have to be him, too. But he was going to be a knight, assuming any of them survived to graduation and the Chamber of the Ordeal, and risking his life for the good of many was something he'd have to get used to. It's quite literally part of the job.

That being said, Barry was secretly glad that Len, for all his slight touch of Sight, couldn't do it. He'd rather risk himself, any time.

"I've written letters to my parents," he tells his friends. "If I don't - well. Make sure they get them."

"I won't," Iris says. She's fighting back tears; Caitlin isn't even bothering with that much restraint. "Because you'll come back just fine."

"Iris."

"Oh, fine. If something happens, fine."

"Thank you."

"When you untie the string, don't let go," Len says.

They all turn to look at him.

"Follow it back to where it came from," he suggests.

Cisco nods thoughtfully. "The caster's base."

"We could find evidence of who it is," Caitlin adds.

"Or what else they've been up to," Iris murmurs, exchanging significant looks with Barry and Len.

Barry hugs them all, kisses Len twice - once extra for Mick, who wouldn't have appreciated a letter - and goes.

Once he's at city center, he holds up Faithful. "Go on," he says, his voice muffled by the mask.

Faithful squeaks and goes.

It's another dead street. Barry abruptly suspects, seeing Malady limp down the way, that Malady is maliciously retreading its steps, a small act of defiance against the orders it has been forced to follow.

Barry puts Faithful back inside his pocket in a flash of light, reaching all the way inside his heavy, hot layering. Then he adjusts his mask and goes to meet a Sorrow.

Malady stops and hisses at the sight of him. It's appearance is disgusting - a gigantic, disgusting rat, so swollen with disease that it seems almost ready to burst with it, like rotten fruit. Barry has to fight back a gag - only the perfumed herbs in his mask's beak, chosen for their nausea-fighting properties and spelled to be even stronger, keep his gorge from rising.

"I don't want to fight you," he says, vibrating extra fast in his nervousness. The vibrations in the mask muffles his voice, making it deeper, almost eerily so. "I want to unbind you."

Malady looks suspicious.

"I mean, yes, I'd like you to leave after that, but I'm being realistic here."

Malady huffs what almost seems like a laugh at that, suspicious glare fading, and it bows its head.

Swallowing, Barry kneels beside it and starts unwrapping the string as fast as he can.

It's very nearly not fast enough.

Even his slick suit isn't enough to repel the disintegration of the string that inches up the line as Barry hurries to loop it around Malady's head. Blackness and rot, stinking of putrid flesh, every loop Barry undoes is consumed, and it crawls up toward where his hands are and Barry is abruptly certain that if that decay touches him he will die, suit or no suit.

"How did he get this on?" Barry hisses, eyes fixed on the approaching decay as he pulls yet another loop off. He can barely do it in time, and he's a speedster mage! It seems endless, loop after loop after loop - the decay coming for him - his speed starting to falter, not enough practice after all his years of hiding it - him biting his lip near to bleeding because he can’t slow down - can't die - he has to get back to Len, to Mick, to his friends -

And then, suddenly, it's done.

Barry's holding the end of a long string, clasped tightly in his fingers, and the decayed part drops off only to vanish into the paved road, where all manner of bugs skitter out and away, plague-carriers every one.

Malady raises its head and regards Barry.

Barry, frozen, stares back.

Malady nods, head bowed low for just a moment, and then vanishes.

Barry exhales.

He really hopes they're right that this will stop the Sickness.

The string abruptly pulls tight, trying to escape his grasp, but Barry instinctively looped it around his own hand and is yanked up to his feet instead. It pulls painfully tight. He won’t be able to hold it for very long.

Barry turns in the direction the string is coming from and runs.

Whoever sent this Sickness upon Barry's city is going to pay.

Barry will make sure of it.

--

The string leads to the palace.

It tries to lose him, going through closed doors and looping back on itself, but Barry's high on the adrenaline of terror and the rush of rage and he's running faster than he ever did before, and suddenly he sees everything broken down into frozen dots, like a stylized painting, and he can leap through doors made of those dots with ease.

He's not sure how he's doing it, but he has to find the caster of this terrible spell. If he doesn't, they might try again. He can't let them try again.

The death toll of the Sickness has already been far too high.

And if this is Eobard or his ally, Darkh, that just makes it worse. Bespelling the royal family, subverting them, casting a sickness on them - Iris' mother and brother are bedridden, her father at their bedside - Iris herself spared only because she was away and stays away -

Caitlin had quietly suggested to Barry that since Iris survived their adventure in Gorilla City and helped broker a peace regardless of her young age, making her an impromptu hero to most of the country, the caster of the Sickness might have decided to keep her alive to marry her for legitimacy.

If it's Eobard, "nice" Eobard, then without the intervention of the secretive gorillas of the Hidden City, Iris wouldn't have realized the trap until her family was dead and her marriage announced.

Barry grinds his teeth and follows the string.

It leads to -

Barry snarls in anger.

Whatever casting device was used, it's hidden in Iris' quarters.

Her royal quarters, not the knight's barracks which she insisted on sharing with her classmates. She probably hasn't been back there for any longer than a brief moment to change into royal clothing in months, if not longer.

If Eobard's dares about the Hidden City had led to her death, her quarters would have been locked up in mourning, and no one would have ever found the casting.

Clever, if diabolical.

The string leads straight to some sort of magic-looking design that vaguely resembles the carvings on the great gate that Roger of Conté tried to use to send Tortall into the realms of Chaos all those years ago, albeit one made of string. Even as Barry arrives, the string pulls out of his hand and winds itself furiously, destroying the design before disappearing in a puff of foul yellow smoke.

Not a trace left. Of course.

But next to it is another working - a basket, this time, filled with dolls, covered by a cloth.

Barry's heard of that particular spell of Roger of Conté's, too.

Everyone has; you can't grow up in Tortall and not hear all the stories of Alanna the Lioness, her duel with Roger, and the subsequent revelation of her gender before all the court.

It’s a bewitching spell, just the same as the one that Roger of Conté used to hide his perfidy from the court until Alanna unmasked him.

But what to do about it?

He hears footsteps.

Someone is coming to this room. It's not Iris, Barry knows that much; she’s still in the camp and unable to enter the city. So it must be the caster of the spell.

Barry pulls his hooded beak down to make sure it covers his face and grabs the basket.

The door opens.

Thawne Eobard. Just as they'd all known.

And he looks angry, too.

Behind him - Damien Darkh, the King’s Mage, the one they'd all suspected, and Malcolm Lord Merlyn, the head of the elite knights' squad. Who they hadn't suspected at all.

Oh, shit, Barry thinks, and runs out. Luckily Eobard and his allies are a bit back from the doorway, enabling Barry to duck around them; all Barry needs is some clear space and he'll be free, no one will be able to catch him once he's at top speed.

Or so he thinks, right up until there's a crackle of lightning and suddenly there's someone else running right behind him.

It's Thawne Eobard.

He isn't just a mage-worker. He's a speedster mage!

Barry grits his teeth and runs faster, twisting and veering and dodging, but Eobard is catching up to him. He's smirking, too - he knows he's faster, Barry knows he's faster, and there's nothing Barry can do about how Eobard inexorably strides behind him, calm where Barry is already gasping for air, contemptuously demonstrating his mastery of their mutual art.

Just as Barry thinks he can run no further, just as Eobard reaches out to grasp the back of Barry's hood to yank him back, there's a brilliant flare of white light that hits Eobard dead on and knocks him back.

Cold white light.

Barry’s seen that light before, back in Gorilla City.

Len!

Len is standing outside of the Dancing Dove, his crossbow of ice held up to aim, the smirk on his face no less arrogant than Eobard's but far less cruel - and far more beloved.

Barry uses the opportunity to zip off behind the next building, but he slows, not wanting to leave Len alone.

It occurs to him a second later, seeing Eobard curse, that it also deprives Eobard of his trail of lightning.

And then he turns on Len, his face vibrating too fast to be recognizable to anyone but another speedster mage, and says, "You robbed me of my quarry."

His voice is distorted, echoing in itself. It's frightening even to Barry, who can do the same, but Len is unmoved and unafraid.

"If you can be robbed so easily," he drawls, "you don't deserve to keep it. Welcome to the streets of Corus – and the realm of the Rogue."

"The Rogue," Eobard says thoughtfully. He holds up a hand and begins to vibrate so fast that it hums in the air like a mage-powered saw. "Tell me, is it true that when I shred your heart in my hand, I become the Rogue after you."

Len sneers. "Never," he says.

"Perhaps we should test that."

Len fires his crossbow, but Eobard is already dodging, appearing right in front of Len, and his hand is moving so fast - Barry can't go to Len, would never be able to stop Eobard in time, even if he didn't hold the future of the realm he's sworn to defend in his hands -

"Goodbye, Rogue," Eobard says.

But before he can move, there's another flash of light.

But not cold, oh no.

Hot.

Where Eobard was merely knocked back by Len's ice, shaking it off after a few moments, Mick's crossbow of flame - and it is Mick, standing off to the side, grinning broadly and savagely the way he always does when there's violence afoot, familiar and beloved to Barry's eyes - makes Eobard shriek in agony and dash back a few steps to avoid it.

Mick drives him back, and back, and back, until Eobard shouts some small bit of furious resistance, the words drowned out by the roar of the flames, but then Len steps forward and raises up his crossbow of ice and Eobard turns tail and flees back to the palace.

Mick pulls back his weapon, though Len keeps his out, a wary eye out on the street.

"Mick!" Barry calls, forgetting discretion now that Eobard is gone. "You're back!"

"I told you I wouldn't be long," Mick says gruffly.

"You said no such thing," Len snarks, but Barry sees the pleasure on his face and knows that Mick hasn't been back long at all. If he had been, Len would've mastered any trace of emotion by now.

Or maybe not, since it's Mick.

Barry reaches for Mick, wanting to embrace him, to kiss him -

"Barry!" Len snaps.

Barry freezes.

"Take that basket to Iris," Len says. "Decontaminate yourself. And only then come meet us at the usual place."

Oh, right. Malady, the race, the basket of dolls.

Barry's still wearing the hooded man's beaked mask!

Awkward.

"I'll be back," he promises, and runs.

His feet feel lighter than air.

--

Sadly, Barry ends up bringing Mick and Len and Eddie to the camp in a dizzying set of deliveries instead, because the work of saving the country trumps Barry's desire to greet his returned lover in person.

Barry sometimes wishes it didn't, but he knows his duty to his country.

"So Thawne Eobard is a speedster mage," Iris says, tapping her lip with a finger. "He sent the Sickness and bespelled - a lot of people."

"Unmasking the basket should break the spell," Barry says. "Per legend."

"We need to reveal him sooner rather than later," Len says. "He knows he's lost it; he may try another spell."

"You can't conflict spells like that," Iris says. "As long as this spell is still working, he can't cast another on the same people."

"Do you think he has Merlyn under such a spell?" Cisco asks. They've shown him and Caitlin the basket; it was enough to break the spell on them, little dolls dissolving inside of the cloth.

Now that they've had time to study it, it is what Iris proclaimed to be ingenious - based on Roger of Conté's original, of course, but improved. There is one main doll - Thawne Eobard – which is palm sized, and two others - Darkh and Merlyn - about two-thirds that size, and the rest are the size of pawns. And so, by the laws of magical symbolic transfer, they are pawns, willing pawns, to the games of Eobard and his allies.

"I don't think so," Iris says gently. "Eobard came for the first time four years ago - and that's when Merlyn first got permission to make his squads. Squads of the best of the best of our knights, bound together in secrecy and brotherhood, and sworn to serve his every order, no matter how unusual. They're not exactly what knights have traditionally been, you know."

Cisco sighs. "You're right," he says wistfully. "But it was something nice to aspire to."

"Darkh ascended to the position of the King’s Mage around the same time, didn't he?" Barry asks, thinking of his mother's letters.

"Shortly thereafter," Iris confirms.

"He comes to the north, sometimes," Caitlin says quietly. "There are Libraries there, in the City of the Gods; he was too impatient to go through the proper procedures before reading them, and they denied him access. But then he became the King’s Mage, and they couldn't deny him any longer even if he didn't follow procedure..."

"Four years," Eddie whispers. "That's before -" His voice fails him.

"Before what?" Iris asks him, automatically reaching for him and grasping his hand in hers.

"Before the massacre of the old Thawnes, of course," Len drawls. "Eobard needed allies in Tortall that would help him keep his new-found throne, and access to the King in order to quash any investigation."

"Of course," Iris says, though she looks a little puzzled. "That makes sense."

"It's time," Mick says.

"Time for what?" Barry asks, but Mick ignores him. He's looking at Eddie.

"Time to tell everyone what we already know," Len says. "Go on, Eddie."

Eddie bites his lip and ducks his head.

"You tell them," Len says mildly. "Or we will."

"You," Eddie says. He pulls his hand gently away from Iris. "I don't know how you figured it out, but - please."

"What is it?" Iris asks, looking between them, worry plain on her face. “Tell me.”

Len gestures at Eddie. "Iris, Princess of Tortall, allow me to introduce you to Thawne Edward, youngest son of the family that was slaughtered."

There's a moment of utter shock and silence.

Then -

"Really?!" Iris yelps.

"I didn't mean to mislead you, Iris," Eddie says miserably. "There just never seemed to be a good time to bring it up, and at any rate I had realized when I arrived that Tortall wasn't investigating as I'd hoped they were, so I'm disinherited anyway -"

"Not disinherited," Caitlin says. "Eddie, you're the rightful heir!"

"Well," Eddie says. "Not quite. My older brother survived, too. He's the heir."

"That's great!" Iris says.

He goggles at her. "It - is?"

"Not you lying to me by omission," Iris says briskly. "We'll talk about you making that up to me later. But the presence of a true-born Thawne will mean that Eobard's own men will not back him, not if we get you in front of him, and that will reduce the threat of war."

"Never did understand why a foreign leader was allowed to bring so many men," Cisco mutters. "Practically an army camped outside Corus' gates."

"An army we no longer have to worry about," Iris says. "More importantly, that means Eddie and I can marry, and not even my father will be able to object that it's not a properly strategic match."

"You - you'd still want to?" Eddie whispers. His eyes are wide and he looks as though all of his dreams had come true right when he had expected them to die forever. "You'll still take me?"

"I would've married you when you were still the Rogue's pawnshop owner," Iris declares. "This just makes it easier, that's all."

They all politely turn away for a moment to let the couple kiss passionately.

After a few moments, Iris clears her throat. "Um," she says. "Well, that's the problem of Eobard's army cleared up."

Everyone turns back. Most of them are smirking, though Len's nose is still scrunched up in disgust at the public display of affection. He's a private man.

“We still have to deal with Merlyn’s men,” Barry says, trying to hide his grin. “And Darkh. And Eobard!”

“Darkh especially,” Caitlin says, biting her lower lip. “We’re knights, and he’s the King’s Mage. I mean, we could probably gather up all the knights that aren’t sworn to Merlyn – we have the advantage of numbers, at least, since he insisted on having small, elite squads – but Darkh? Even if Barry is a speedster mage, all of his attention will have to go against Thawne Eo– against Eobard, I mean. None of us are mages, and even if we could collect the ones in Corus to help us, they’re all still sick and half-powered because of the Sickness.”

"Iris can handle Darkh," Mick says.

Iris smiles, though it's shaky. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mick. But I'm not a mage, either. The line of Conté used to be powerful mages, but the only thing left nowadays is the ability to use the Dominion Jewel. I can't help you."

"Sure you can," he replies.

"To go up against the top mage in the realm?" Caitlin says doubtfully.

"Sorry, Mick, it really does seem like something we need a mage for," Cisco agrees. "Unless you have one in your pocket or something."

"That ain't what I got in my pocket," Mick says smugly, and pulls out a leather wrapped parcel out of said pocket.

"If I'd known we were distributing gifts, I would've worn something nicer," Len drawls.

"This is what I went to get," Mick says, taking no offense at Len’s snark. He finishes unwrapping it.

It's - a jewel?

Big and purple and -

"Oh Goddess," Iris gasps. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Depends on what you think it is," Len says, looking a touch confused by the presence of the shiny object Mick is brandishing like it means something. "I'm gonna guess your first thought wasn't about its resale value..."

Sadly, that had been Barry's first thought too. His lovers were clearly a bad influence on him.

"It has no resale value, you thief!" Iris exclaims. "That's the Dominion Jewel!"

And then everyone is talking all at once, louder and louder until Len abruptly whistles long and shrill, deafening everyone around him.

"Ain't sure about the rest of you," he says, glaring. "But where I'm from we conduct our secret meetings quietly."

Everyone looks down and mumbles apologies. Len has a very effective disappointed look.

"Now, one at a time."

"Wasn't the Jewel lost?" Barry jumps in first. Speed powers were meant for exploiting, after all.

"Yep," Mick replies.

"But, like, really lost," Cisco says. "Not 'stuck up a mountain with a grumpy elemental' lost, more like 'threw itself in a volcano to punish Tortall's rulers for their overreach' sort of lost."

"Yep," Mick replies.

"Big, nasty, still-active volcano," Cisco adds.

"Yep."

"The sort with fiery lava in the -"

"What Cisco is trying to say," Caitlin interrupts, "is how? How did you find it?"

Mick shrugs. "I went to the volcano."

"What, and it was just lying there and nobody noticed?" Cisco says skeptically.

Len, however, is frowning. "Mick," he says, his voice perfectly smooth and even in the way it is when something is actually upsetting him. "Are you telling me you went inside the volcano?"

"I had to," Mick says apologetically. "S'where the Jewel was, and we needed the Jewel to fight the big bosses, and if we didn't beat them, bad things would happen. World was going to end, boss."

"You went inside a volcano," Len says stiffly. "No wonder you didn't tell me where you were going."

Barry winces. That tone does not speak well of Len's mood right now. From the look on Mick's face, he knows it, too.

"Len," Iris says. "Stop worrying retroactively when it'll do no one any good. He's alive, he's fine - that's what's important."

Len grudgingly nods.

Mick looks relieved.

"Uh, guys?" Cisco says. "No offense for breaking up the feelings moment but - how exactly did he survive? Kind of a key question here. The whole reason the Dominion Jewel picked a volcano to create and jump into is because the Gods can't really empower people to be flame-resistant. Well, maybe against magic flame, but not regular flame. None of the Gods can do that, except maybe the Black God."

"I ain't the Black God's get," Mick grumbles when they all turn to look at him. "Mom, not dad, remember?"

"But then - how?"

Mick looks embarrassed. "Apparently my mom's the fire. Guess that's one reason why the firebug fits came on me so early. And why I see useful things in the fire."

"The fire," Barry says blankly. There's no goddess of flames, not unless - "Mick, your mother was Mother Flame?! The mother of the Gods?!"

"You're a god?!" Cisco yelps.

"No!" Mick says. "Demi-god! My dad was a human - also prone to firebug fits, apparently - not a metaphysical concept!"

"You always did have to be special," Len drawls, but the ice in his tone is subsiding to more normal levels out of sheer amusement.

"Does that mean you're actually omniscient?" Iris asks.

"Wait, omniscient? How's that?" Cisco asks.

"Kinda?" Mick replies, shrugging helplessly. "I got access to all the info, it just - I only got a human brain to sort it all through. S'why I'm so slow, sometimes. Even info I learn the human way just gets lost in the mess."

"Wow," Caitlin says, looking around the group to make sure that they’re being serious. "Can we -"

"Let's focus on defeating the bad guys," Len cuts in. "Yeah? Iris, can you use the Jewel?"

"I should be able to," Iris replies. "As I said, that’s the only thing we can do, the line of Jonathan and Thayet – the only remaining mage ability we have is the ability to use the Jewel. I mean, I've never practiced - for obvious reasons - but...yeah. I think so."

"So we have Eddie to talk down the Bergen army," Len says. "Cisco and Caitlin to gather up good knights to fight Merlyn's knights. Barry and me to hold off Eobard - and that leaves Mick and Iris to fight off Darkh."

"I don't know if I can beat Eobard," Barry confesses. "He's faster than me, more experienced, everything."

Everyone else looks pretty ill at the scope of what they're up against, too.

Len rolls his eyes. "Come on now," he says briskly. "Have I ever gone after anything I wanted - really wanted, shut up, Mick - without a plan made to succeed?"

Everyone stops looking sick and starts smiling.

After all, every one of them has had an opportunity to see Len's planning skills at work.

"Okay," Len says, satisfied smirk stretching across his face. "So here's what we're going to do -"

[esdeem]

Anchors, an Overwatch Fanfic

Okay, I’m going to preface this by saying I’ve not done much revision work at all on this, so I apologize for any egregious errors in grammar, characterization, lore or quantum mechanics. I felt really inspired so I just let it flow. I might pick at it a bit and post it a few other places.

It’s inspired by this amazing artwork here and I hope this little fic tribute does it justice. Also there’s not nearly enough Lena/Emily stuff out there and I’m hoping we get to see more of their relationship in the future, as I think it’s really cute. (And yes, I really do think the two of them would be big Disney nerds.)

Author rambling out of the way, here’s the story. I hope you like it!

-----

Winston stopped marking the passage of time in hours, day or weeks. Instead, he counted how many jars of peanut butter lay strewn across his desk, and how many white boards he'd filled with calculations. Presently, those numbers stood at fourteen and six. Soon, he'd have to start raiding other offices to keep up with the workload.

“You are working yourself toward an eventual sugar crash,” a voice called out from the computer speakers.

“I'll deal with that later, Athena.” Winston mumbled, chewing on the cap of the erasable marker in his hand. “I don't imagine anyone's come up with any major breakthroughs in the unified theory in the last few days, have they?”

“There are currently no new academic papers to that effect,” Athena replied. “There is a man in Wisconsin with some new ideas, but in my opinion they rely too heavily upon Doctor Who and the Terminator franchise.”

“Which ones?”

“Genisys.”

“Ugh.” He scribbled a few more calculations, though perhaps Athena had a point. The details of quantum chemistry had grown fuzzy, and he noticed with embarrassment that he'd assumed a superfluid in the current design behaved as a Bose-Einstein condensation, which of course was foolish. He erased the details with his forearm and grumbled. Literally back to the drawing board--

“Winston,” Athena interrupted. “You asked to be informed when Ms. Oxton reappeared--”

She didn't even finish, as Winston dropped the marker and bounded out the door, and down to the main lab floor.

* * *

The gorilla rested his hand on one fist, a brow arched high. “Really.”

“Cross my heart, love. Saw him pull it out of the stone and everything.”

“And they couldn't see you?”

“Think they were all a little distracted, what with the whole next King of England being chosen. Funny way to pick a king that, don't you think?”

“Lena, you know the whole King Arthur story was a myth, right?” Winston smirked. “And if he really existed, he wouldn't have been anything like the old stories.”

“Okay, fine, you got me. It was just a field again, nothing really happened.” She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Y'know, a real friend would nod and smile.”

“I know, it's just... I keep hoping if I know when you're going, it would help me figure out a solution.”

“You don't want to hear it big guy, but maybe there's just... not a solution?”

“It's funny,” Winston said, ambling over closer to the containment field. “I seem to remember a member of Overwatch who believed in taking in a refugee from the moon and protected him from other people who claimed he was just a company asset. Someone who believed in his value, no matter what anyone else said.” He pushed his glasses back up and smiled. “You never gave up on me, Lena. I won't give up on you either.”

“Awww, you big lug. You're gonna make me cry.” She giggled, but then stood up and looked at a small table the others set up for her, where a simple picture frame sat. She remembered the day they took the photo, their first day in any of the six parks. The silver, geodesic  sphere behind them glowed in the Florida sun, but paled in comparison to the smile on the red haired woman's face. She'd dreamed of that vacation most of her life, and Lena hadn't told her until the day they boarded a plane for the United States. The trip had been almost perfect, save for the hurricane scare at the end. They'd not had a chance to see the Magic Kingdom itself, and to see the reveal of the majestic castle at its center. She promised to take them back one day....

She could close her eyes and see that smile, smell that perfume she always teased her about but secretly loved. If she tried, she could even remember the softness of her fingertips pressing against hers and the warmth of her embrace on a cold winter's day.

“You still don't want us to contact her?”

She reached for the frame, but her fingers passed through it. With a sigh, she reached into the pocket of her flight jacket, and her fingers closed across a small box, one of the few things she could still touch.

“She's better off not knowing about this, Winston. I'd rather she move on with her life, rather than keep holding out for a cure that might not happen.”

* * *

“It's safe?”

“Well, there's not really any guarantees, that's why they call the job test pilot, silly. But you know I've done a bunch of these already, right?”

“That,” Emily said, a crooked smile on her face, “Is a glorious attempt at sugar coating things.”

“I happen to know that someone likes their coffee with sugar and cream, so I tell her things the same way.”

Emily gave Lena's shoulder a playful shove. “You're terrible.”

“Guilty, but what does that say for you, then?”

“That I'm more attracted to your looks that your moral character?”

“How salacious!” Lena smirked, but then took hold of Emily's hands. “You know you're technically not supposed to know this, but if this works then we're going to save the lives of hundreds of pilots. And not just fighter pilots! Imagine if you put that in a commercial plane. They start to have engine trouble, they can just teleport it back to an airport for a safe landing.”

“Well then, Ms. Oxton,” Emily said, and squeezed her hands gently, “I shouldn't keep you from your mission to save the world.”

“Someone has to, right?” Lena reluctantly let go of her hands.“Oh, by the way? You might want to get dressed up while I'm off doing this. Someone might have scored reservations at Alain Ducasse at the Dorchester.”

Emily's eyes grew large. “You must really be expecting this test flight to go well.”

“Just a hunch, love.”

“I'll be ready,” she said, and let out a soft laugh. “I'm glad you told me, though. Usually you love springing things like that as a surprise.”

“Oh, maybe I'm turning over a new leaf.” Lena said, and pushed one hand into her pocket, and let her hand close around a small box inside. Silly Emily, to think she didn't have another surprise up her sleeve.

Emily had almost finished getting ready when Jack Morrison called with the news that the Slipstream vanished without a trace. And as the light swallowed the plane and its pilot, Lena Oxton's fingers closed around that same box as she apologized to Emily for missing their date.

* * *

“It's Higgs,” Winston announced. “Or more precisely, the Higgs Field. Whatever happens to Tracer during the accident, it prevents the bosons in her body from interacting with the Higgs Field. It's amazing, actually, because we had no idea that mass affected how we interact with time, and that does lead to some interesting implications for future research--”

“Winston? Focus.”

“Ahem, right. Sorry. We know how it happens, now we just have to figure out how to fix it.”

Angela Ziegler pressed a finger to her lips as she looked over the notes. Winston had done his best to simplify things, but the baffling world of quantum mechanics still provided a powerful obstacle. Lena Oxton's condition stood at a complex intersection of advanced biology and theoretical physics, and thus far attempts to combine the two fields proved frutiless.

To say nothing of the more practical concerns, which McCree once less than eloquently summed up as the pair discussed it with him in the room.

“Hard to give a shot to a ghost, ain't it?”

Dr. Ziegler still wasn't even sure how Lena had survived, since she'd not eaten anything in months. Perhaps the phenomenon that unmoored her from time halted the biological processes of her body. It made little sense, but to be fair nothing about this situation made any sense at all. She'd run a variety of simulations, but none of them came close to duplicating Lena's results.

And just like a shot, it wasn't as though she could take a sample of Lena's blood to study, either.

“If we could just bring her back in sync with our world, even for a moment...” she said aloud.

“I've tried a few different things,” Winston admitted. “But we never even know how long of an experimental window we have. She's vanished in mid conversation more often that not.” He jotted another formula on the board, stared at it a moment then marked it out hastily, growling.

“We have to be patient, Winston. If we give it enough time--”

With a roar, Winston punched the white board, sending it flying across the room. His skin started to turn red, electricity flaring around his eyes. “You know the numbers as well as I do! It's not predictable, but the mean amount of time she spends in our world is decreasing. If we don't hurry, she'll... she'll...”

Dr. Ziegler put an arm on his shoulder. “I know, Winston. And I know what she means to you. But your anger won't help her. Just... please calm down. We can't do this without you.”

Winston slowed his breathing, and slowly his skin started to return to normal. “I... I'm sorry. But we can't... I can't lose her.”

“I know. That's why you need to control yourself.”

The gorilla walked over to the white board and picked it up again. “I only wish Lena could control this, like the others can control their abilities.”

“Have you asked her to try?”

“Of course, but it doesn't work, at least not consistently. She's been able to phase in enough to move things just a little, but it never lasts.” Winston sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if McCree's right, and we shouldn't just call in a ghost researcher.”

“I don't know what's scarier, that you're considering ghost researchers legitimate scientists, or the fact the words 'McCree's right' just came out of your mouth.”

“It's not like we're having any better luck with our science.” Winston stared at the board again. “Of course, they'd say she was haunting this facility, or was even some kind of haunted thing.”

“There are haunted things?”

“Oh, all kinds of haunted items. Usually really old, and associated with some kind of tragedy in the past. Usually it's stuff like paintings or dresses. Oh, and dolls. Lots and lots of dolls.”

Dr. Ziegler said nothing, and Winston finally looked up to see the incredulous look she was giving him.

“Look, it gets really boring some nights here, and they play a lot of those shows at night,” he said. “But it's not like Lena's haunting us. She's very much alive, and it's not like she...”

Winston stopped speaking, the marker leaving a long streak on the white board. “That's it.”

Dr. Ziegler waited a moment to respond. “You need sleep, doctor's orders.”

“No no, I don't mean we call in the ghost people. But maybe that's what we've been missing.”

“What's that?”

“We've been focusing on curing Lena, and maybe she's right. Maybe that can't be done.” Winston wiped away the calculations and, instead of writing more, he started to sketch out a design. “But what if we didn't have to? What if, like a haunted object, there was something that kept Lena here? Like... a device that served as an anchor, pulling the Higgs field back toward her?”

“Then we could try to figure out a permanent cure.”

“There's just one problem,” he said. “I might be able to extend the field once it activated, but... she'd need to be wearing it first.”

“Which would require a greater control over her state than she currently possesses. I don't imagine you have any ideas on how to help her do that?”

Winston stared at the sketch and tapped the marker against the board. He turned to the side, lost in thought. As fate would have it, he found himself looking at a picture he and Lena had taken together, one that always stood next to his work station. Slowly, a smile passed over his face.

“You know why all those silly shows about ghosts said that some people stayed behind to haunt things?”

“I can't believe we're having this conversation, but why?”

“Because they had a reason to stay.”

It took her a moment, but once Dr. Ziegler understood, she smiled as well. They had a second, more important anchor after all.

* * *

When she was eight years old, Lena broke her left leg and right foot leaping from the top of a playground slide pretending she was a super hero. It happened only a day after the end of her summer term, and she spent her entire summer holiday between her bed and the sofa in the living room while she could hear the laughter and excitement from her friends outside. She longed to escape the house and rejoin them, but her parents said in no uncertain terms that super hero games would be off limits when she did.

Well, they said no playing but they never said no dreaming. Armed with notebook, pencil and pen she started to document her adventures as a super hero that could do a whole lot more than jump off playground equipment. In her version of things, Lena could copy the powers of other heroes by touching them. Really, it just gave her an excuse to use whatever power struck her fancy in the moment. She never gave the hero a name, until a friend visited and saw a drawing she copied from one of the books.

“That's not really yours,” they teased. “You just traced it.”

“What's wrong with being a tracer?”

The name stuck, and Tracer even became her call sign as a test pilot.

Those memories came back to Lena often since the accident, since both times she found herself unable to do much. Sometimes she'd reappear in the dead of night and beg Athena not to wake anyone, since she might vanish. She rarely found herself anywhere interesting during her time jumps, and never stayed there long enough to even see much, let alone start a decent conversation. Maybe she didn't have a notebook to record it all, but she could still dream.

Of course, a lot of her dreams dealt with food. Instead of rushing into a burning building to save the day, Lena imagined dropping off by the pub for a quick drink or a favorite spot for a bite to eat. Today, she went back to an old favorite. She used to stop by her favorite chippy at least once a week, where they always fried the fish while you waited. Little spots of oil singed your fingertips even through the paper. Then we went to the condiment stand, where she added the right amount of malt vinegar... or as her friends put it, “nearly drowned everything in it”. The aroma of the beer batter mingled with the tang of the vinegar.. it made Lena's mouth water just thinking about it.

She'd been just about to bite into the imaginary plank of fish when footsteps echoed from behind her. With a soft sigh, she stood up. “Can't a girl have just a few minutes to dream before you start running more tests?”

“...Lena?”

She froze.

“Lena, is that really you?”

Her fists balled up, and she drew in a halting breath. For the first time since the accident she felt afraid, and it kept her from turning around or even looking over her shoulder. The uncertain future, the increasing doubts of Winston and Dr. Ziegler, even the days when hope all but faded away, she could handle that. But seeing a look of pain on her face, knowing something she'd done brought tears to that beautiful face...

“You can hear me, can't you?”

It still took her a minute to find her voice. “You're still wearing that awful perfume, aren't you?”

“The one you gave me a bottle of for Christmas last year? Of course.”

“Only because you like the stuff, and I was daft enough to support you.” The silence hung between them a moment. “I didn't want you to see me like this, Em.”

“Your doctor explained it to me,” Emily said. “I don't understand it completely, but... I'm here now.”

“Truth is, I really hoped you'd get on with your life. Forget about me, move forward, maybe even start dating again and find someone a bit more normal. I can handle this burden, but I... I wanted you to be happy.”

“Happy.” Emily's voice drew closer. “I thought I knew what that meant, but then I met you. Hearing you giggle at my silly jokes, or make fun of how my hair looked in the morning, or hugging me after a long day at the office. Lena, it's hard to move on with my life when you are my life.”

“Em...” She still couldn't bring herself to turn around.

“You remember how you always made me a cake from scratch for my birthday, and insisted on putting the candles on it? I hadn't done that since I was a little girl, but you always made me blow out the candles and make a wish before I could eat it? That's what you brought me. You made me realize how special, how magical life really is. I did it again this year, and I made a wish again. You know what I wished for?”

“You know if you tell me--”

“I know, but I'll give you a hint,” Emily said, her voice starting to waver. “You just need to turn around.”

Dammit. Lena looked to the ground and closed her eyes, then slowly turned to face her. With a deep breath to steel herself, she opened her eyes once more. To her surprise, Emily wore a beautiful emerald green dress, her red hair cascading around her shoulders. And while her cheeks shone with tears, there wasn't a hint of pain on her face. Instead, she rewarded Lena with that perfect smile, the one she dreamed about seeing so often.

“See? You just made it come true.”

“You look amazing.”

“You think so?” A flush of red splashed across her cheeks. “It's... what I was going to wear that night.”

“And suddenly, I'm even more upset about the accident.” She giggled, and even drew a small chuckle from Emily as well. “I've missed you.”

“It's really quiet without you around. Believe it or not, I'm starting to hate it.”

“You might regret saying that some day.”

“If I'm lucky.” Emily reached a hand out.

“You can't actually touch me, you know.”

“I know, but someone taught me that it's okay to just dream sometimes.”

Lena lifted her hand. Truth be told, she dreamed of this often as well. She missed the little things, like just walking down the street with their hands locked together. Like the rest of her, her fingers had taken on a blueish glow, translucent enough to just see Emily's fingers through her own. They drew closer together, as she tried to stop just enough to make certain Emily's hand didn't pass through hers, to provide a stark reminder of how desperate her situation truly was. Closer, closer...

They touched.

...they touched.

Emily's fingertips pressed gently against hers, and the glow faded. She trailed her fingers down Emily's, to her palm. Wrapping her hand around hers, she gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I'm back,” Lena whispered. “You brought me back.”

Somehow, Emily's smile grew even more radiant than before. “See? I told you I wasn't going to let go of you so easily.”

With one swift motion, Lena drew close and pulled Emily into a tight hug. Both women started to sob as they held the embrace, Lena's head resting on her shoulder as she cried. After a moment, Lena lifted her head up and whispered into her ear.

“There's something I need to tell you,” she said.

“I'm not going anywhere.”

“This is hard to admit, but...” Lena bit her lip. “It was a box mix. Every year. I'm a lousy cook.”

Emily kissed her cheek. “I think I might be able to forgive you.”

* * *

“We can make adjustments as needed,” Winston said as Lena pulled at one of the straps that held the bulky contraption in place. “After it activates, the field generator will route the bosons in your body to the local portion of the Higgs field. I call it a chronal accelerator because--”

“Winston, love, I know you find all this really amazing,” she said. “But you lost me way back at 'It's simple physics'. Pretty much, I turn on the Matrix of Leadership here and I'm anchored back in the real world full time?”

“Yes, and there might be some interesting applications we can test down the line. More importantly, after it's been activated you won't have to wear it all the time. As long as you're in close proximity to the device and it still has power, you'll remain connected to our time.”

“Good thing, that. Would've made showers and changing clothes really awkward.”

“I did make it waterproof,” Winston said and pushed his glasses up with one finger. “I know how much it rains in London, after all.”

“Well, guess we'll give this thing a shot.”

“You'll probably want Emily in here with you,” Winston said, and glanced back to the lab's control room. “I should--”

“Stay here. You're as much a part of this as anyone.”

“She doesn't know about me yet, Lena. She'll think I'm like the others, and be afraid...”

“And then she'll get to know you, and love you like the rest of us do.”

“Like Reyes?”

“Difference is, Emily's not a raging asshole.”

“Point taken. I just, um, don't want to ruin the moment.”

“Okay, let me put it another way,” Lena said and jabbed a finger into Winston's chest. “If you so much as think about hiding in that control room, I will kick your butt.”

He sighed and took a few steps back. “Fine.” He pressed a button on his wrist comm. “Dr. Ziegler, we're ready to activate the accelerator. If you'd sent Emily in please.”

It took only a minute for Emily to make her way into the lab. She walked over to Lena, but stopped in her tracks when she saw the massive form of Winston standing across from them. She stared, and Winston could only manage a weak wave.

“Uh, hello. I'm Winston.”

Emily finally turned away from him, and to Lena. “Amazing. You weren't lying about the gorilla scientist.”

“Wait, you told her about me?”

“Before the accident even. Oops.”

“You are a walking security risk.”

“Guilty.” Inhaling sharply, she looked down at the chronal accelerator. “So, shall we turn this thing on?”

“If you're ready.”

She grabbed Emily's hands and gently squeezed them, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Now I'm ready.”

“You should take a few steps back, miss,” Winston warned.

Emily nodded and walked beside him. Lena pressed the buttons in the sequence Winston told her, and the center of the accelerator sparked to life with a faint blue glow. Seconds later, she felt a strange wave pulse through her body. At first, everything around her seemed to move it slow motion, then sped up even faster than normal. After a few more seconds, a pulse from the accelerator bathed the room in blue light. Lena looked at the device, then to Emily and Winston. The gorilla moved to a nearby terminal and started hitting buttons.

“Am I supposed to feel any different?”

“I don't know, but all the readouts seem good. Did you experience anything strange when you turned it on.”

“Like the real world acting like I hit rewind and fast forward on a movie?”

Winston grinned. “The blink and recall functions worked at start up! You're going to like those, but we can talk about them later. Now that you're stable, I'm sure Dr. Ziegler will want to run a few tests. You might have to follow her around, since your blood will be just as unstable as the rest of her, but it shouldn't take too long.”

“Fine, but first things first.” She threw her arms open. “Hug time!”

Emily ran over and fell into her arms. Winston turned away to give them privacy.

A second later, he heard Lena clear her throat. “Winston?”

He turned to see both Lena and Emily with their arms stretched out to him.

“Huh?”

“You're the one who brought her back,” Emily said. “So you're a part of this hug too.”

“But I--”

“You're my best friend, you big lug. So get over here before I drag you into it.”

With a smile, he walked over and gently wrapped his arms around the two. It would be the first of many he'd share with his new family.

* * *

She'd booked the trip only a week after the accelerator tests proved successful, though this time she let Emily in on their plans a little sooner.

“I decided maybe Ducasse wasn't really our speed,” she said as she showed Emily the plane tickets to Orlando.

“Not surprising me this time? You're losing your touch, Ms. Oxton.”

Silly Emily, underestimating her like that.

Getting her out of bed that morning proved the most daunting challenge, as Emily hit the snooze button at least five times before Lena finally gave up and pushed her off the side of the bed. A few beignets from the food court bought her forgiveness. Emily didn't even bat an eye as a private town car pulled up in front of their hotel and whisked them away to the park, long before the gates opened to the public.

“Commander Morrison knows some people,” Lena said, and Emily accepted it without question.

Save a few cast members, it was empty as they walked down through the gates and turned the corner. Lena didn't take her eyes off Emily's face as the castle revealed itself in the distance, framed by the shops of Main Street. Lena squeezed her hand softly.

“What do you think?”

“It's amazing!”

“We should get a picture, shouldn't we?” Lena said, and winked to the photographer behind her.

“Oh, of course!”

She never saw it coming, maybe because Lena just hugged her for the first two pictures. The photographer directed them for the next show, getting Emily in just the right position.

“And Ms. Oxton, I think you know your pose.”

She reached into her pocket, for the box she'd held onto since the day of the accident. She pulled it out just as she dropped to one knee and opened it to reveal the ring inside.

“Surprise,” she said with a sheepish grin.

The next picture was Emily answering that question with a kiss.

[cutsliceddiced]

New top story from Time: We Watched Every New Show on Quibi. Here’s What to Watch—and What to Skip

Like it or not, Quibi is here. The new streaming platform, launching April 6, offers short-form content—”quick bites,” hence the portmanteau, that run 10 minutes or less. These shows are designed to be watched exclusively on your phone, whether you’re on the subway heading to work or sitting in the waiting room at the dentist’s office—places, in other words, that most people won’t be able to go for some time yet in the era of social distancing. But despite the fact that very few people are, for the moment, on the go, Quibi has held fast to its planned debut, launching, by our count, 50 scripted series, documentaries, reality shows and news programs on April 6 with plans to roll out 175 shows over the course of the year.

Quibi is casting a wide net to court various types of viewers: there are soothing cooking shows designed for the boomer crowd, while celebrity-studded reality series aim to lure Gen Z off of TikTok. Television critics have been busy debating whether the Quibi model signals the end of quality television or the wave of the future. But it’s clear the platform is hoping sheer star power alone will entice some quarantined television lovers to download the app. Jennifer Lopez, Idris Elba, Lebron James, Chance the Rapper and Chrissy Teigen are among the celebrities set to star in Quibi content, and filmmakers like Steven Spielberg, Catherine Hardwicke, Paul Feig, and Guillermo del Toro have content on the upcoming slate.

The streaming service, which also features proprietary new technology that allows viewers to switch seamlessly from landscape to portrait viewing, will cost $4.99 per month with ads and $7.99 without ads, though a 90-day free trial is available if you sign up in April.

Quibi gave journalists a glimpse at some of their content launching on April 6. We watched everything available to screen in advance (in most cases, around three chapters; “Daily Essentials” like news shows were not available in advance as they will cover news as it breaks). If you’re thinking of subscribing, here’s what you should watch and what you should skip.

What to Watch

Gayme Show! (unscripted)

Gayme Show! has a deceptively simple premise: it’s a gay game show. That’s it! Hosted with with aplomb by comedians Matt Rogers and Dave Mizzoni, each episode features two straight contestants competing in gay-themed challenges in an effort to be crowned “Queen of the Straights.” The jokes are plentiful, and if you’re not well-versed in gay Twitter—references to Dua Lipa, Laura Dern’s salmon button-down from Jurassic Park and Cynthia Nixon’s wife whiz by—you might have to Google to catch up. But even if you don’t get every joke, it’s hard not to let out a guffaw watching contestants like Demi Adejuyigbe prance around the stage in a unitard during a game called “notice me father”—actually a bespectacled Rogers softly weeping. The conceit is goofy, silly and exactly what you want it to be—and that’s a great thing. —Kelly Conniff

Nightgowns (documentary)

Lately it seems like everyone who’s ever come within 10 feet of RuPaul’s stage is getting their own show, but don’t hold the deluge of drag content against Sasha Velour, a Drag Race winner who stands out even from that talented pack. While her gender-fluid performances can be transgressive, Velour, who takes a big-tent approach to drag, has a heart of gold. As she adapts her Brooklyn-born revue NightGowns for a bigger stage, this docuseries profiles the queen and an inclusive troupe that features performers with a wide range of identities and styles. Each episode of the show—the only Quibi title I screened that feels particularly suited to the medium—ends with a beautifully shot production number that does Velour proud. —Judy Berman

Prodigy (documentary)

You don’t have to be a sports fan to appreciate this docuseries, which covers a different young elite athlete in each episode. With artful cinematography and well-paced storytelling—especially compared to the frenetic quality of many of the platform’s other shows—Prodigy is less concerned with the specific athletic achievements of its subjects (no. 1 ranked high school basketball player in the U.S., five-time national junior boxing champion) and more focused on the sacrifice and singular dedication of these athletes’ family members. If you cried during that Procter & Gamble Olympics commercial thanking the moms who drove carpools and gave pep talks so that their children could get a shot at the podium, this one is probably for you. —Eliza Berman

Punk’d (unscripted)

This third revival of MTV’s prank show has been winningly updated for millennial and Gen Z sensibilities: it’s slightly more absurdist, slightly less cruel and involves way more animals. YouTuber Liza Koshy ruins a bat mitzvah; rapper Megan Thee Stallion gets attacked by a gorilla. Chance the Rapper—who in the wake of Netflix’s Rhythm & Flow, has rebranded his once-innocent persona to include a mean streak—brings a mischievous energy to hosting duties, and his laugh is infectious. —Andrew R. Chow

The Sauce (unscripted)

Dance—particularly street dance—doesn’t get enough mainstream respect. The Sauce has something to say about that. Each episode pits two dance groups against each other, judged by talented dance duo Ayo and Teo, with the lure of a $25,000 cash prize. The lack of polish is endearing, as is the raw skill on display; you’ll wish you could spend more time just watching these young athletes move their bodies in ways that have no respect for the laws of physics. Kudos to executive producer Usher and the hosts for making sure to explain regional dance styles, as it’s high time these art forms got their due. Constant camera cuts and stylized editing seem best suited for the TikTok generation, but it’s a joy to watch these dancers in motion in any format. —Raisa Bruner

Shape of Pasta (documentary)

Now this is my sort of short content. I’m a devoted Bon Appetit Test Kitchen subscriber, Alison Roman Instagram story watcher and Anthony Bourdain worshipper. So, yes, a show about a chef traveling across tiny towns in Italy to discover forgotten pasta shapes is my jam. I can’t get my head around the tone of this show—it’s extremely self-serious, so much so that it’s maybe supposed to be making fun of other food shows? Or perhaps it’s just one of them. No matter. The show has many nonnas teaching Felix Trattoria chef Even Funke how to make pasta in shapes you’ve never thought of but are centuries-old traditions in picturesque Italian towns. It’s delightful! —Eliana Dockterman

You Ain’t Got These (documentary)

Lena Waithe takes viewers on a thoughtful, well-researched and star-studded tour of the world of sneakers. As the show conveys, sneaker culture is about much more than style. “Your footwear is your ID now in the black community,” Carmelo Anthony tells her; Nas, Run DMC, Hasan Minhaj and a cultural historian reflect on the legacy of icons like Michael Jordan and the relationship between hip-hop and commerce. Questions about branding, exploitation and value are tackled head-on. For sneakerheads it might be mostly recap, but it’s still fun to hear Rev Run reminisce about securing his Adidas deal—and for everyone else, it works as a solid introduction to a foundational part of contemporary American culture. —Raisa Bruner

What to Try

Chrissy’s Court (unscripted)

In this ode to Judge Judy, Chrissy Teigen rules over petty cases brought by local randos. Each episode is extremely dependent on the personalities of the plaintiff and defendant. Most of the “contestants” are actively awkward (or actually mad, which is bizarre given the TV show’s unserious premise), and Chrissy and her mother Vilailuck Teigen (as bailiff) have to work double-time to counteract their discomfort. The humor often feels forced. Chrissy’s Instagram is more entertaining—at least there, she has total control over the cast of characters, namely her husband John Legend and their two kids, all of whom are way more natural in front of the camera. That said, if you like Teigen and are already churning through her Instagram stories every day, this is a fine way to get some more. —Eliana Dockterman

Fierce Queens (documentary)

Reese Witherspoon narrates mini wildlife documentaries made with BBC Studios Natural History Unit, each focused on the female members of a species. Some of the lines veer into cheesy girl-power territory: “Getting that belief in yourself and gaining confidence: that’s what growing up is all about. These big cats totally nailed it. Walk tall, fierce queens!” she sings out after a surface-level episode about adolescent cheetah sisters. But thanks to truly beautiful footage and surprising subject choices—unless you already know all about the life cycle of the ruthless, cannibalistic queen honeypot ant?—viewers who want a quick hit of nature and some new fun facts about animals will be satisfied. —Raisa Bruner

Flipped (scripted)

After one episode, this one looked like it would fall squarely in the “skip” bucket: two incredibly annoying self-anointed visionaries, a married theater director (Will Forte) and Home Depot-esque associate (Kaitlin Olson), are both deservedly fired from their jobs for asserting their own artistic purity over things like appropriate subject matter for tween thespians (in his case) and customer service (in hers). (Think the kind of kooky, self-serious characters you’d find in a Christopher Guest movie, minus the great ensemble to balance them out.) But a hastily paced sequence of events—they decide to try to be house flippers, buy a foreclosed-upon property and find stacks of cash in its walls, which turn out to belong to a drug cartel—leads to the introduction of Broad City‘s Arturo Castro as an organic-apple-eating overlord, which might just elevate this bonkers ordeal from grating to promising. —Eliza Berman

Gone Mental with Lior (unscripted)

The mentalist Lior Suchard lacks the theatricality or scale of other famous magicians like David Blaine or Criss Angel, making him perhaps the perfect match for a low-stakes platform like Quibi. It’s agreeable enough to watch him catch basketballs while blindfolded or exactly guess the number of coins in Ludacris’ hands, but his tricks won’t haunt your dreams, either. —Andrew R. Chow

I Promise (documentary)

By all accounts, LeBron James’ I Promise School in his hometown of Akron, Ohio, has been a resounding success: Its students, who were picked to attend after underachieving in the city’s public school system, are testing better and seem to be thriving in their new environment. This show, however, comes off as a surface-level feel-good advertisement for the school. —Andrew R. Chow

Run This City (documentary)

Jaseil Correia grew up with the dream of becoming the mayor of his hometown, Fall River, Mass.—a city of around 90,000 most famous as the home of Lizzie Borden. At the remarkably young age of 23, he achieved it. But what sounds at first like an uplifting story of millennial striving turns dissonant when Correia is indicted on fraud and extortion charges. It’s an intriguing story that could have made for a fascinating hourlong documentary. Unfortunately, the Quibi format requires director Brent Hodge (I Am Chris Farley) to chop the saga into equal-sized, eight-minute “bites” that drag in the middle before ramping up to exaggerated cliffhangers. The result is a micro-docuseries whose rhythm always feels a bit off. —Judy Berman

Singled Out (unscripted)

I like host Keke Palmer. I like Joel Kim Booster, who serves as the Jenny McCarthy to her Chris Hardwick. I like that all three episodes I watched had queer contestants but didn’t feel as though they were pandering to an LGBTQ audience. The best one featured a fully decked-out, super-charismatic drag queen looking for a man who could handle her at her most femme. But the best thing about the original MTV show was the unscripted banter, both between the hosts and among the competitors. And there just isn’t room for that in an already-rushed seven-minute show. —Judy Berman

Thanks A Million (unscripted)

There’s not much here that you can’t already get from watching YouTube clips of Ellen DeGeneres giving out life-sized checks on behalf of name-that-corporation, or soldiers coming home to reunite with their spouses/children/dogs. But if you’re going to subscribe anyway and want a cathartic cry in two-minutes flat, watching celebs like Jennifer Lopez, Kevin Hart and Nick Jonas give deserving people $100,000, then watching the recipient give half of it to another deserving person, and so on, should do the trick. If you think too hard about it, the magic starts to fade—how much of this will get eaten up in gift taxes, and how many phone calls is this person going to get asking for a loan after receiving such a large sum on, well, if not national TV, whatever Quibi is? Yet seeing an apparently kind, hard-working person get the chance to pay for infertility treatments, or a house, or more resources for their therapy dog program, is far from the worst way to spend six minutes. —Eliza Berman

What to Skip

&Music (documentary)

With its sweeping landscape shots, ambient background score and pseudo-philosophical ramblings, &Music seems to want to be the Chef’s Table for the random-dudes-connected-to-the-music-industry set. The show spends each episode with a behind-the-scenes collaborator of a star: there’s Ariana Grande’s choreographers and Martin Garrix’s light guy. But while there are one or two poignant and revealing moments, the show is mostly slick, overproduced and vacuous. There are plenty of music documentaries that are far more worth your time—and that you can watch on a big screen with proper speakers. —Andrew R. Chow

Dishmantled (unscripted)

Dishmantled is a cooking show, minus the main ingredients that make cooking shows so satisfying: interesting and empathetic contestants to root for and, much more fatal to the whole endeavor, the cooking itself. Hosted by Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt‘s Tituss Burgess, the show invites two blindfolded chefs into a small chamber where a mystery dish is blasted into their faces; they have to taste the exploded shrapnel, figure out what it might be, and make a dish replicating what they think they’ve eaten, to be judged on both taste and accuracy by celebrity judges like Dan Levy, Antoni Porowski and Jane Krakowski. But the quick format makes this far from a nutritious meal; viewers don’t have time to get to know or get invested in the contestants, and the cooking itself sails by without any attention to technique or ingredients. The most drama you’ll get here are lines like: “This all comes down to…is this a zoodle or is this a noodle?” —Eliza Berman

Memory Hole (unscripted)

Will Arnett makes fun of terrible pop culture moments from history that nobody remembers for a reason (like that time Alan Thicke appeared in a corny tribute at the opening of a Canadian superdome). It’s unclear who this show is for or why it exists. The references are so obscure that even people who lived through them will have forgotten and the quips feel like something you’d hear at a high school open mic. I spent the entire time watching this show thinking about another, much better show, BoJack Horseman. In that Netflix animated series, Arnett voiced a washed-up ’90s sitcom star struggling to stay relevant in Hollywood. Memory Hole feels like a project that an investor in Quibi would have blackmailed BoJack into doing after BoJack accidentally threw up on him during a bender at a wedding. —Eliana Dockterman

Most Dangerous Game (scripted)

This show is so obvious, it’s almost funny. These are the exact roles SNL would cast Liam Hemsworth and Christoph Waltz in for a skit—cancer-ridden former athlete with a pregnant wife and an evil billionaire who wants to pay said former athlete to be hunted by rich people. Since each episode is seven minutes, these are not character revelations that slowly come out over time. They are blatantly spoken by the actors to one another in every scene. Don’t come to Most Dangerous Game expecting The Game-esque twists or any subtle dialogue. What you expect is exactly what you will get. Unless you expect fun. You won’t get that. —Eliana Dockterman

Murder House Flip (unscripted)

Despite the name, there’s nothing original about Murder House Flip. The series is essentially two types of reality shows unceremoniously jammed together: one part home redesign show hosted by two perky designers with a surfeit of canned jokes; one part true crime docuseries filled with the requisite pan and scan over vintage photos and newspaper clippings. This uneasy juxtaposition results in awkward episodes that often feel like a Saturday Night Live parody, especially when one of the hosts brightly announces: “Our goal was to take this murder house and turn it into a happy home.” And a focus on the grisly nature of the crimes reflects the worst parts of a genre that too often obscures victims. Is there a world in which this show could have managed to strike the right tone? Possibly. But as it stands, Murder House Flip is too flip. —Kelly Conniff

Nikki Fre$h (unscripted)

“Wellness has a new voice. A black voice,” Nicole Richie’s rapper alter ego says in the first episode of Nikki Fre$h (and then immediately clarifies that she’s referring to herself). The resulting show is part poker-faced satire of the goop lifestyle and part honest assessment of organic produce and artisanal honey. Her attempts to draw attention to food waste and the plight of bees are well-intentioned, but cameos from the likes of Bill Nye can’t save the show from falling flat; Richie helped pioneer awkward reality TV on The Simple Life with Paris Hilton, but Nikki Fre$h lacks that show’s schadenfreude appeal. —Raisa Bruner

Skrrt with Offset (unscripted)

If you like looking at nice cars, you might get a kick out of Skrrt with Offset. Otherwise, there’s not much point. The show has a thin premise (the Migos rapper Offset does stuff with cars) and is executed with even less imagination. When his wife Cardi B shows up for an episode, overflowing with sass and charisma, you wonder why they didn’t just give the whole show to her. —Andrew R. Chow

Survive (scripted)

Before watching the first five episodes of this thriller about a disturbed young woman preparing to kill herself on the flight home from a mental institution, I might have said something like, “I’d watch Sophie Turner do anything.” Well, Turner is great in Survive—but neither her performance nor the impressive production values manage to redeem a story that, whether intentionally or not, revels in the bloody, nihilistic aesthetics of suicide. A twist (one that’s “spoiled” in the trailer) that has the plane crashing and Turner’s character teaming up with an obvious love interest (Corey Hawkins) to, yes, survive only heightens the absurdity and introduces plot holes. —Judy Berman

When the Streetlights Go On (scripted)

It’s the summer of 1995—a stiflingly hot one—when things start going wrong in sleepy Colfax, Ill. That fall, a beautiful high-school mean girl (Kristine Froseth) and the teacher she’s been sleeping with (Mark Duplass) get carjacked, forced to strip and gunned down by their masked assailant. The weirdo sister (Sophie Thatcher) she used to bully wanders around unmoored. A jock sometimes-boyfriend (Sam Strike) is brought in for questioning. Narrating this murder mystery is the student journalist (Chosen Jacobs) who found the bodies. Period signifiers like Nirvana and ck one abound. Every once in a while a show formed entirely out of genre tropes and nostalgia for the recent past is executed well enough to exceed the sum of its parts (see: the first season of Stranger Things). But after three trite, predictable episodes, I’m not holding out much hope for this one. —Judy Berman

Other Shows Headed to Quibi

The titles below are Quibi’s “daily essentials,” more information-oriented programming covering news, sports, weather and entertainment. Screeners were not provided in advance for these series:

Around the World by BBC News Weather Today by The Weather Channel Morning Report by NBC News Evening Report by NBC News Saturday Report by NBC News Sunday Report by NBC News The Replay by ESPN NewsDay by CTV NewsNight by CTV Sports AM by TSN Pulso News by Telemundo For the Cultura by Telemundo Close Up by E! News Fresh Daily by Rotten Tomatoes Speedrun by Polygon Pop5 by iHeartRadio No Filter by TMZ: AM No Filter by TMZ PM Last Night’s Late Night All The Feels by The Dodo The Daily Chill The Rachel Hollis Show Sexology by Shan Boodram The Nod with Brittany & Eric Trailers by Fandango

via https://cutslicedanddiced.wordpress.com/2018/01/24/how-to-prevent-food-from-going-to-waste

[livelikebrent]

Stop 8: Portland, Oregon

"Things turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out." - John Wooden

Solid quote, right? After planning a trip to Seattle I wanted to hit Portland while I was out there. I had the time. I didn’t take much time off the year and a half prior. If I did, it was usually last minute to get to the hospital because something had happened with Brent. I’m not complaining by any means. I didn’t take vacations, only weekend trips with Brent to Ocean City Maryland, or back home (both of ours). Time is something you’ll never get back. It’s something that should be spent wisely but not cautiously. When making my plans to be in Seattle with my brother and friends, Josh and Hannah, no one signed up to come on my Portland trip. I was actually pretty keen on the idea of having some time to myself, in a city I knew nothing about and spending 5 days with no where to be and no one to truly answer to. I mean, traveling alone was something I had become pretty used to when Brent became sick. I’d travel for hours by train, subway, car, by foot etc. to see him in New York City, Northern New Jersey, back home in Wilkes-Barre or during the weekdays in between visits. I’ve always been a rather independent person...so it had never intimidated me. 

My brother and I shared an Uber to the airport before the sun even showed up on Tuesday morning. He made his way to departing flights as I went to rent a car. I hopped into a black economy class car. I actually did look into splurging on a Mercedes or something I probably won’t ever own myself. But it turns out even renting one for only a few hours would cost close to the amount of money I’d been spending on Airbnbs for the week. But as I made my way south, I had an outstanding purple and magenta sunrise along with a Seattle throw back hip hop radio station. Aside from the sky everything was green, the sky had begun to drizzle, I stopped at a Starbucks (shocking, I know), ordered a coffee and plugged Cannon Beach into my GPS. I couldn’t tell you how I knew about Haystack Rock at Cannon Beach. I figured everyone knew it existed and that was one of Oregon’s iconic spots. Turns out, not so much. It was an easy drive as I drove along the coast and I passed through a half dozen small coastal towns. One of those towns was Astoria, Oregon, which brought me to my first official stop: Rogue’s Ales Astoria Public House. The establishment wasn’t even open yet but as I drove across a one way wooden boardwalk out to the bar which is the old Bumble Bee Tuna Cannery, I cracked my windows and listened to seals barking.

I walked inside, the bar tender in a Tommy Bahama button down told me to take a seat anywhere and asked if I was alone. I sat myself at the bar and as I stared up at the board of what was on tap, he poured me some beer to try. I ended up with a sour and a cup of clam chowder. It was most definitely a soup type of day. The bartender asked me where I was traveling from. I explained I was on a trip from Philly and had just made my way down from Seattle. We chatted for a bit about road trips, the Pacific Northwest and whatnot. I grabbed a shirt to buy for my Dad and as I was closing out my tab, I asked the bartender about a sticker. I told him I had noticed that it was a relatively clean looking and a sticker would look out of place. He pulled over a wooden Rogue napkin/condiment holder that already had a “Be nice you’re in Oregon.” sticker on it...he said, “You can put it right here.” I told him about Brent and why I was there. He told me about a buddy of his that was in surgery that very moment to have a cancerous mass removed. I shook his hand, told him I wished the best for his buddy and continued my way down to Canon Beach.

I think it’s kind of silly to describe a rock as majestic. But there is really no other way to explain it. First of all, it’s a massive rock on a beach surrounded by other rather large rocks. As I drove through the small town and wound up the road I saw Haystack rock on my right just beyond some homes on the hill. I pulled my rental over grinning from ear to ear and hopped out. I snapped some photos from up above. Then I tried to figure out where I could ditch my car so I could walk on the beach. I found a nearby lot and walked along the water in my vans, jacket and hat to try and stay a bit warm from the breeze and lack of morning sunshine. It was awesome. I wanted to stay on the beach all day to just take in the sights and sounds. I need to plan a trip to travel back for warmer weather and book a little beach bungalow cottage off of the main road so I could soak it all in for a bit longer.

Recognize this beach? The Goonies was filmed here. *Insert truffle shuffle move here* After my long walk on the beach I had a friend suggest a place for a bite and a brew right on the main street by Haystack Rock called Cannon Beach Hardware & Public House. The answer is YES. It is exactly what it sounds like. As I sat in an old airplane seat eating an ahi tuna salad and sipping on a hard cider, a man was buying Gorilla Glue and some screws. It’s a hardware store with a bar on one end. It was one of the most interesting places I have ever been and I would highly recommend it.

I continued to Portland winding through towering Douglas Firs and I couldn’t get over how green everything was. If I wasn’t surrounded by some sort of pine it was a tree absolutely covered in moss. It started misting on my drive and a fog hung out at the top of the trees. It was just all so lush and so refreshing to see. I couldn't tell you why but I simply couldn’t get enough of it. If I didn’t have to return the rental car, I would’ve spent hours just driving around. I wouldn’t be surprise if I swung through Ferngully at one point.

I finally checked into my Airbnb which was ADORABLE and located in the Hawthorne neighborhood of the city. You can view the entire place here! I decided not to stay in the heart of downtown Portland because I figured staying in a different neighborhood would force me to check out different areas. But the place I stayed in was everything I needed and nothing more. It was a one bedroom basement apartment right off of one of Portland’s main drags. It turned out that one of my college buds lived a couple blocks away with his girlfriend. So I could easily meet up with him later in the week after work.

What did I do in Portland? I walked. Then walked. Walked and walked. Why? Because I had a pair of Vans and all the time in the world. I’d rather see a city I’ve never been to before on foot anyway. Day one I walked downtown to hit up Voodoo Donut. The weather ruled...again, I do realize I lucked out with weather on the trip. One of the many things I did not know about Portland is that they have several (a total of 12) bridges. Crazy. As I spotted a bridge to cross I stumbled upon a place called Urbanite. I unexpectedly spent close to an hour in there walking up and down the aisles checking out the eclectic consignment booths filled with home decor, art work, furniture and odds and ends. Had I not only traveled with a carry on for this entire trip, I probably would’ve made several purchases...I even considered shipping stuff back to Philadelphia. Also, can we take note of the extremely creepy coat rack in the photo below that took 1.5 deer to make?

As I walked across the Burnside Bridge, one of Portland’s main arteries, I came across Portland’s infamous White Stag Sign.

Right over the bridge was the doughnut shop. Right outside of the shop were a couple of homeless people who knew EXACTLY what they were doing. They stood outside of the all cash establishment nabbing pretty much tourists all day long. So nobody could go to the easy go to line of, “Sorry, I only have my card on me.” Also, I will say they were pretty aggressive. I didn’t expect to be harassed trying to simply buy a bacon covered doughnut. Along with said doughnut, I purchased a couple of post cards to mail out. Again, I’m not sure why I love postcards so much. Sometimes I just write a quick note to people and others I’m trying to squeeze in as many words as humanly possible in my message. Side note: Feel free to send me some on your trips! I got my doughnut, post cards and found a spot to sit outside as I continued to listen to tourists heckled by Portland’s finest.

After my mid-morning snack I went to a couple of shops including Adler and Co, Stumptown Coffee, Union Way, Powell’s, Made Here PDX and Porch Light. Shout out to Haley for all of the recommendations! I linked the last three because they were amazing. Powell’s is the world’s largest independent bookstore. It’s like you’re in a completely different world in there. While I spent some time browsing, reading and wandering around, I heard multiple parties lost over the loud speaker. They have sections of the book store marked in colors...so they had to ask the lost humans to report to the purple section or orange section of the store. 

Made Here had a TON of products that were made locally in Portland. They had everything from candy, jewelry, leather goods, art to beauty products. I kept seeing salted black licorice everywhere. My mom is one of those people that loves black licorice and yes, black jelly beans...but I think a lot of moms do come to think of it. Needless to say, I bought it for her. Still haven’t heard how they are...I suppose the jury is still out on that one.

Porch Light. GAH. I spent SO much time in there. I didn’t want to leave but I was terrified of buying almost EVERYTHING. Disclaimer: Their website doesn’t have half the stuff they have in store. But I did end up treating myself to a pretty little ring to remember the trip and such a wonderfully dreamy establishment.

After I was done with shopping and browsing there was a  Deschutes location: the Deschutes Public House.  The brew pub’s 26 taps featured Deschutes beer plus a selection of seasonal and experimental beers developed and brewed on site exclusively for the Portland pub. I had a sour, fried cauliflower and made my way back to my apartment. I ended most afternoons on the cozy, green velour couch with Nextflix, a cup of green tea and a nap. But that evening my college bud, Sean, hit me up for a drink. I met him at The Nest which is a local’s bar off the main drag and not terribly far from where I was staying. It was a dive bar with board games, video games and ping pong. We grabbed a seat outside on the patio, caught up and then Sean showed me around the neighborhood. We ended up at Quarter World Arcade. It was basically Philly’s Barcarde but on steroids and it was awesome. We probably spent a decent amount in quarters and I introduced Sean to my favorite arcade game, Tapper. Tapper is game where you are the bartender serving up Budwisers to dozens of thirsty patrons. It makes me so anxious playing but it’s so much fun..

Thursday was a day I spent in the Hawthorne section of Portland. I walked to a place called Pine State Biscuits. If you know me, I’ll have a biscuit with every meal if possible. So I walked a bit to earn my biscuit brunch and ordered The Money Ball which was biscuits and gravy topped with an over easy egg and a tall glass of sweet tea. I sat there and took my time...it was absolutely delish. I thought about asking to put a Live Like Brent sticker up since I had yet to place one up in Portland. But it was a cleaner/sleeker type of establishment in ambiance. So I figured it wasn’t the right spot.

After the concrete settled in my stomach, I continued to walk. I came across a smaller Powell’s location and tons of small businesses. Portland is extremely supportive of entrepreneurs which was really neat. I fell in love with a shop called Tender Loving Empire. Similar to Porch Light, but more within my budget, I did not want to leave and I wanted everything.

Friday was another day of walking. I walked 5 miles across the city to see the International Rose Test Garden  and the Japanese Garden. Mind you, it was mid-March so it wasn’t exactly peek season for the roses. Honestly, they were all chopped down with the exception of a few. But I bet it is stunning in the summer time. Also, I really don’t know if that’s a rose pictured below. But it was pretty and there was an entire wall of them.

I got zen in the Japanese Garden and walked around. It was conveniently located immediately behind the Rose Garden. It was pretty interesting. There were interesting trees, greenery and moss everywhere and Koi fish in some of the ponds. There was a house in the garden with a back patio that has the best view of Mt. Hood in all of Portland. But guess what?! It was a drizzling, grey and overcast day...so there wasn’t too much of a view.

As it started to rain, I took another suggestion out of Haley’s guide to Portland email she had sent to me and went to Great Notion Brewery for a beer and a bite to eat. The brewery was awesome and definitely a place I would hang out regularly if I had lived there. It had a lumber jack theme and vibe going on and is known for fruity and sour beers...I had a Blueberry Muffin beer, a tart ale, which was pretty legit. I tried making conversation with the bartender and asking her for other suggestions in the area. Every interaction was brief. She wasn’t in the mood for conversation. So I guess then I wasn’t in the mood to over tip. Afterwards, I decided to leave the area and I made my way down to Mississippi Ave. to window shop and for another drink before heading back to the apartment. 

I spent most nights at my Airbnb relaxing with a cup of tea watching Netflix. Some of you probably just read that last sentence and said, “Uh, what.” and then you probably thought, “Why would you do that on a trip when you could do it at home?” Well, it’s not something I do at home all that often. On the week days between my weekends traveling to and from New York to Brent, I would come home from work, throw on my pajamas, maybe make dinner and watch episode after episode after episode of The Office, Shameless, The Office again and whatever other sitcom I may have gotten into. My focus Monday through Friday was to work and just get through the week so I could hurry up to the next weekend to see Brent. But after Brent had passed I couldn’t do it. When he was alive (and home) we were always on the go, even when he was home and sick in his recliner, I’d be at the grocery store for him, picking up prescriptions, cooking food for him that he could easily reheat, so on and so on. Even after he had passed, the amount of phone calls, texts and Facebook messages to make plans never stopped. When they did finally slow down I would find myself after a second episode of Chopped twiddling my thumbs. I would stand up and need to do something. Sitting still became almost impossible. I felt useless. I felt like there had to be something better I could be doing with my time. So the fact that I had an entire 5 days to be alone in Portland, reflect and veg out...was exactly what I needed once again.

One night, I decided to find a movie from my mental list “Movies I should’ve seen at one point in my life but never did” and chose “Into The Wild.” For those of you who do not know the premise. It’s a 2007 film directed and produced by Sean Penn starring Emile Hirsh based off of the book about the travels of Christopher McCandless across North America and his experiences in the Alaskan wilderness in the early 1990s. McCandless graduates college, doesn’t want anything from his well to do family, destroys everything he owns and donates every last penny to charity. He wanted to live off of nothing but the Earth itself and disappear into the wild. He did fairly well for himself...during his travels, he meets a group of gypsies, make friends and along the way and works a couple of odd and end jobs to get him to his ultimate destination. He loved being on his own, earning every meal on his own and taking in the beauty of nature. He does make it to Alaska but being an amateur and not properly trained on this type of survival, his supplies begins to run out. As he decided to maybe make a return to civilization. When he packed up his home he had created in an abandoned bus and retraced his steps. He encountered the river he once crossed but didn’t account for the snow to thaw during the winter causing the water to rise a great deal. He retreated back to his bus to figure out how to continue and he goes into the wild to find something to eat. McCandless mistakenly eats a plant that ultimately killed him. When he realized he mistakenly ate a poisonous plant, he wrote one last thing in his journal:  "Happiness only real when shared.”

At this point in the movie I’m ready to burst out in tears as I tell the television in front of me, “HE’S SO RIGHT.” As I sat there on the couch, curled up under a lavender blanket I was tired of taking selfies, I wanted somebody to share dishes with as I could never finish a plate of food by myself, it was nice to not be on anyone else’s schedule but it would be nice to share and experience Portland with somebody alongside of me. I had been blessed to have so many friends join me on my many stops for the Live Like Brent Tour. I was excited to have plenty of downtime by myself to explore and experience a new city. But what I had found is the same thing (in a much less dramatic way) as Chris McCandless. It’s great and wonderful to be happy with yourself, to be independent but what is life if you don’t have somebody to share it’s experiences with?

 I shared my final day in Portland with Sean, and his girlfriend, J’ena. They took me to the Colombia River Gorge which itself was gorge - There was still a morning mist and fog hanging heavy in the sky. We stopped at the Vista House which is a free museum at Crown Point and also serves as a memorial to Oregon pioneers and as a comfort station for travelers on the Historic Columbia River Highway. We climbed to the stop of the house and we were able to get quite the view.

As we made our way along the Colombia River Highway we made a couple of stops along the way to hike and see several stunning waterfalls. During the car ride I learned more about J’ena. She’s kind of a big deal. She kinda was a very sought after NEW character at Disney. She Kinda was in the circus. Her family was kinda like gypsies. Again, she’s kinda big deal and I’m so happy for her and Sean.

After we walked the final trail and saw the final waterfall. We made our way back to Rose City for a bite to eat. This is where I had THE BEST dish of my entire trip. We went to a place called Bye and Bye, a hip southern inspired vegan bar. When my best bud, Ang, went to Portland to visit Haley she wouldn’t stop talking about this place and the bowl she ate. And now I can’t stop thinking about this place and the bowl I ate! I had the Eastern Bowl which included nutritional yeast breaded tofu, broccoli, and brown rice with a spicy ginger peanut sauce, topped with sesame seeds. That spicy ginger peanut sauce was seriously the most flavorful thing ever. I couldn’t finish it but didn’t mind because it was something I was definitely ready to take back with me for a late snack. But we hung out for a bit more. We chatted about work, books we’ve recently read and other things. I expressed concern that I had yet to place a Live Like Brent sticker in Portland. I started to think that perhaps it was an omen. Brent thought about moving to Portland when we first started dating. Now here I was in the same city and couldn’t find the right spot...and I wasn’t being picky by any means. Sean then asked me, “Wait, wasn’t Brent into the Dead and like Phish?” Turns out there was a Grateful Dead bar in the neighborhood I was staying in and Sean told me to go visit it. It was called Fire on the Mountain.

I grabbed an Uber as the rain started to really come down. I got to Fire on the Mountain and it smelled like buffalo sauce. The two owners opened it because they felt that Portland needed a solid wing joint. I walked in and found an empty stool at the bar. I asked a guy sucking down beer and wings if it was open. I sat there, ordered an IPA Sean had suggested and an order of deep fried Oreo’s. Honestly, I wasn’t all that hungry from my delish bowl. But they did sound pretty good. As I sat there, it was the perfect place to put a sticker up for Brent. It was a funky spot with cool stickers all around, I spotted an A-Basin sticker in the kitchen on the door of their cooler. Side note: A-Basin was a mountain I snowboarded for Brent on the Colorado trip and it was one of his favorite spots to shred. Another notable sticker said, “Support Your Local Shake Down Street.” So I snagged a bartender’s ear for a moment and explained why I was in Portland and more importantly why I was at Fire on the Mountain on my last day of the trip. His response was kind and he was sorry for my loss, thanked me for sharing my story and told me that he would be honored to put the sticker behind the bar.

The guy next to me was just about done sucking down his chicken wings and said, “Boy do those Oreo’s smell good.” I IMMEDIATELY offered some as again, there was no way I could eat all of it. His name was Clay and he told me he was sorry to hear about Brent. We sat there and ordered a couple rounds of beers. He was drinking Rainier Beer which is comparable to a PBR I suppose. He grew up in Utah but moved around a bit for work, Portland was where he had landed and loved it. He double checked that I hit all of the spots that any visitor should. The one thing I did not do was eat from a food truck. There were PLENTY of opportunities, but it just simply never happened. After a while I decided to call it a day and ended my last night in Portland on the cozy green couch, under the lavender blanket, a cup of green tea, Netflix and the remainder of my Eastern Bowl.