#fine bone china plate

[yourcoffeeguru]

Vintage SAJI Fine China Decorative Plate || SWtradepost - ebay

[giantkillerjack]

Literally every piece of cookware/dish that has ever been devised in the history of mankind: You can wash me with soap and water!

Cast iron skillet: tehe 🤭 soap and water? I guess that's fine if you like your steak rusty haha 🙈 I can only be washed with salt and oil and lemon and spit or I will immediately die haha so just spit on me okay spit on me and make me clean, mommy 🤗🥵😏💦👅👅👅

Me:

[fashionsfromhistory]

Any update on the pin?

Oh I'm sorry! I actually followed up on that privately. Unfortunately it's not the most exciting but let's talk about some of the basics about dating items here. There's some more jewelry specific info if you click this link.

So this is our very cute brooch! First off, we're in a super good starting point. We have a legible & clear makers mark! A quick google search reveals a lovely site called The Potteries, which is a list and some history on potters in the Stroke-on-Trent area. Unfortunately, the information on Cara China is scant. Here's the highlights:

The Cara China Co: Longton. Founded 1945

Cara China made fine bone china ornaments, broaches, earrings. Examples include garden benches with flowers winding around, all hand painted. In 1971, they had a visit from the Ambassador of Tunisia, Ismeal Kamel, and his American wife, who, although expected to make a short visit, stayed much longer.  His wife was very interested in English ceramics.

And we've hit a wall. If I wanted to get more information, I would either reach out to the local library to look at newspapers or perhaps email the owner of The Potteries. (Or if I was a local, chat up the grannies to see if they knew who I could talk to)

While the internet has made dating items immensely easier, there's still a lot of hitting the books you have to do. Fashion plates, comparing to other garments, going through family history/letters if able, etc. I find it to be a very interesting task. I would personally place it on the earlier side of our time frame because of the similarities to something like this vs something like this. But at the end of the day, sometimes you're not going to be able to narrow it down more than 1940s-1970s.

[razzle-zazzle]

dude, i think your mech is haunted

8077 Words; Cleaved AU (Movie)

TW for mild violence, mild body horror (ghost has holes), vomiting

AO3 ver

Generally, Cole never really gave much thought to whether he believed in ghosts.

He’d never seen any himself, sure, but he also lived in a world with Serpentine and Garmadon and Master Builders. It wasn’t that he particularly cared one way or the other—he just never really gave the idea of ghosts much thought outside of when he was directly asked.

Recently, though? He was starting to think his home might be haunted.

It started with the record player. Cole’s family had a long love of music; it was all musicians as far back as anyone in their family could trace. Cole’s dad was no exception—between the records and CDs of their favorite bands and albums was every song the Royal Blacksmiths had ever made. Cole would never be able to get the classics out of his head; they were written so deeply into his bones from a childhood spent listening to those at-the-time-new albums with his mom. Music was just a part of Cole’s life, and he liked it that way—the Earth Mech wouldn’t have had a DJ setup for the control panel if he didn’t.

But back to the maybe-haunting. Cole had gotten home after a long day of school and then hanging with the rest of the Secret Ninja Force. Part of it was training—Master Wu was determined that they would all learn how to be “proper ninja,” even though their mechs were perfectly suited for handling Garmadon attacks—but most of it was just hanging out with his friends. The ache in Cole’s body from the physical conditioning was vaguely satisfying, thanks to the fact that he’d been hanging out with his friends during.

Before he’d even put his bag away Cole moved to get the record player going. He grabbed an album, pulled out a record, and flipped it onto the player and set the needle with practiced ease. Within moments, The Fold’s music began to fill the apartment as Cole finally slung his backpack onto the couch.

There was a note on the counter from his dad—a late night with his bandmates, and a reminder to take out the trash squished between the reminders to call him in case of emergency and that he loved his son. Cole set the note back down and turned to open the fridge for those leftover wings mentioned in his dad’s note.

“Jump up kick back whip around and spin,” Cole sang along with the song, “and then you—”

A sudden clatter from the doorway had Cole spinning around to stare at the entryway. Countless records spilled across the floor and shoes from where they had been knocked off the shelf by… actually, Cole wasn’t sure. The shelf looked fine.

“Shit.” Cole groused as he moved to clean up the mess. The song kept cheerfully playing on as he worked—he wasn’t gonna just put them back on there willy-nilly. There was a system to the selection of music by the door, just like there was a system to the main shelf of records, CDs, and talent show trophies in the living room.

That was pretty much the whole incident—barely even anything to really worry about. Besides, Cole had homework to ignore and trash to take out.

+=+=+=+=+

“Fly Me to the Moon!” Cole jolted in his seat at the sudden clatter from the kitchen, turning around to look over the back of the couch. His father, one arm still holding the cabinet door, looked down at the floor in a mixture of frustration and astonishment. Though Cole couldn’t see through the counter, he could guess as to what had happened—

“That was the good china!” Lou lamented. Yep, just what Cole figured.

“How’d it even fall out anyway?” Cole asked, as his father let go of the cabinet and went for the broom. He glanced up at the cabinet, surprised to see the whole stack of plates that only ever came out when the Royal Blacksmiths had a successful show completely gone. Weird, how did a whole stack of plates randomly fall out of a cabinet?

“Caesar must have put them away wrong Tuesday night.” Lou guessed, already sweeping up the shards. Cole nodded, and turned back to his laptop. Well, maybe laptop was a generous word—it was a computer provided by the school, in case a Garmadon attack forced them to switch to online lessons. It barely worked like a normal computer, and was little more than a glorified e-reader for teachers to put homework on.

Lou sighed. “I suppose I can’t be too mad,” he added quietly. “Lilly always did hate these plates.” He chuckled, before sighing. “Mom loved them, though.”

Despite the agonizing english homework filling the screen in front of him, Cole snorted.

+=+=+=+=+

“I swear, I have no idea how it fell over!” Cole kneeled down, pressing a towel into the section of the carpet that looked the most soaked. The shattered pieces of the former vase still littered the floor, the sad dying irises wet and limp where they laid in the middle of the puddle.

“I’m not going to be mad at you.” Lou promised, carefully picking up the pieces of vase big enough to grab and putting them in the dustpan.

“I didn’t do it!” Cole protested. He hadn’t. He really hadn’t. The vase had just flung itself off the coffee table—somehow. Cole wasn’t entirely sure how, but—he watched it fall! He didn’t touch it!

His father took a moment to look at him, eyebrow raised in quiet disbelief.

Cole groaned. “It just fell.” He repeated, knowing there was no convincing his father. So what if the irises were tacky? Cole wasn’t going to break a vase just because the flowers inside were ugly. They had been a gift from one of his father’s bandmates, too—Brendan kept a garden, and often gave out flowers as they grew in. And zucchini. So much zucchini.

But still. Cole didn’t knock over the vase, on purpose or otherwise.

Lou sighed. “It was in the middle of the table.” He pointed out.

“And I didn’t touch it!” Cole responded. He pressed the towel down for emphasis—all it did was make his hands damp. His father opened his mouth to say something—

The record, which had been playing an old rock song from before Cole was even born, made a sound that could only be described as wailing. Cole and Lou flinched at the sound, Lou moving to stand up—

Just as quickly as it started, it was over. Silence filled the apartment—true silence, without any music playing in the background.

Cole looked at his father, who had walked over to the record player to inspect it. “Do you think I did that, too?” He asked. Part of him was worried the record player was broken—but most of him was just plain annoyed.

“Cole.” Lou’s tone of voice was sharp. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose and reset the needle, music filling the room once more.

Cole made a face. “It’s a valid question.” He groused.

+=+=+=+=+

Ghosts were very much not on Cole’s mind a week later. Despite several things falling over for seemingly no reason, or the record player skipping in the middle of songs, the idea of ghosts hadn’t really entered Cole’s mind. Not when he had Garmadon attacks—or, even worse, school—to worry about.

The history project due tomorrow taunted him through the screen. Were it not for the music blasting from his boombox, Cole would have pulled his hair out by now. Why did citing sources have to be so annoying? Why did finding sources have to be even worse?

Cole glanced at his phone, then back at his still unfinished project. He’d been picking away at it for what felt like forever, now—surely he deserved a break. With that thought in mind, Cole grabbed his phone and pulled up the group chat.

wateryoudoing: did any of you guys finish your essays yet greenmachine: yes! wateryoudoing: besides lloyd greenmachine: :( rocknroll: fsm i wish 🌵🆘💂‍♂️: i havent even started lol greenmachine: guys its not that hard greenmachine: its literally only 600 words wateryoudoing: easy for you to say rocknroll: not evryone can remember this stuff liek you greenmachine: the serpentine war is NOT boring guys wateryoudoing: its not even that the war is boring its just that this assignemtn SUCKS greenmachine: its not that bad rocknroll: yeah it is 🌵🆘💂‍♂️: yeah it is wateryoudoing: see lloyd wateryoudoing: everyone agrees greenmachine: is this bc mr marsh wouldnt let you write about irondragon

Cole closed out of the groupchat. As much fun as it might be to watch Nya and Lloyd argue over whether their history teacher was any good at his job or not, he was hoping for a more fun distraction. He navigated to that one sudoku app he got a while ago, and started up a game. He started a second game five minutes later—and then another when he finished that one, too. It was starting to get boring, but Cole couldn’t put his phone down.

He glanced at his unfinished essay. Back at his phone. The time was 8:43. He could keep taking this break for just a little longer, right?

Cole looked back at the sudoku, entering the last numbers needed to complete the game. The “continue” button appeared, but he didn’t press it.

The assignment was haunting him. Masterdammit. He didn’t want to work on it anymore—but he couldn’t just leave it unfinished. It’d show in his grades and then his dad would get on his ass about it when he already had enough to worry about with the hospital bills—

Cole flinched as harsh static grated against his ears. He fumbled for his boombox, wincing at the noise it was making. First the record, now this? The noise took on that wailing quality, harsh and discordant against Cole’s ears. Despite turning the volume all the way down, the noise continued, scratching against Cole’s brain like nails on a chalkboard.

And then it stopped.

Cole exhaled the breath he hadn’t realize he was holding. Slowly, he turned the volume knob back—

A few seconds of static, then nothing. Cole groaned.

His phone buzzed. Cole grabbed it, opening the group chat to see what was happening now.

FI-YEAHHHH: you guys are not gonna believe what i found 🌵🆘💂‍♂️: 👀 wateryoudoing: your “missing” science hw? FI-YEAHHHH: no even better than that crimedoer: okay i’ll bite crimedoer: WHO CHANGED MY NAME FI-YEAHHHH: so i’m at doomsday comix, as you do greenmachine: you went to doomsday w/o me 🥺 🌵🆘💂‍♂️: 😲😲😲 crimedoer: KAI WAS IT YOU FI-YEAHHHH: uhhhhhh FI-YEAHHHH: okay lloyd i was looking for a bday gift for you FI-YEAHHHH: didnt wanna spoil the surprise greenmachine: my birthday’s not for another 4 months??? crimedoer has changed their name to jetstream wateryoudoing: we’re getting off topic guys wateryoudoing: kai what did you find FI-YEAHHHH: jay change your name back FI-YEAHHHH: okay so i’m looking at the figurines right jetstream: no FI-YEAHHHH: and LOOK at what i found!!!

Kai sent a picture to the groupchat of a Lady IronDragon figurine in his hand, slightly scuffed—and missing a weapon judging by the shape of her hand. The price tag was visible: $10.99.

Cole smiled, texted a quick “cool” and put his phone back down. It continued to buzz as the conversation continued, but Cole’s focus was already back on the boombox. It didn’t look broken. He flicked it back on—

Music blared out like it had never stopped working in the first place. Cole leaned back in his chair with a groan. “First Master…” Between this, the plates, the vase, and the record player—there was something weird going on. Cole just wished it would blow over. Of course, knowing his luck, it probably wouldn’t.

And he still needed to finish that essay!

+=+=+=+=+

“Hey, dude, you doing okay?” Kai’s voice cut through the usual cacophony of the halls before classes. He was leaning against Cole’s locker, and moved over to allow Cole access. “You look kinda…” He waved his hands in a vague approximation of whatever was prompting his concern.

Cole shrugged. “It’s been a weird week.” The noise of the other students was already giving him a headache. He hadn’t brought his boombox today, for fear of it making that awful noise in his locker, but he did still have his headphones—

Uh. Wait—where were his headphones?

“Cole?” Kai leaned over.

“I can’t find my headphones.” Cole said, his voice much more calm than he felt. He sat down to dig into his backpack proper, pulling everything out one by one. He couldn’t find his headphones—where were they? He never left home without them—

“Hello fellow teens!” Zane greeted, wheeling over. He turned to Cole. “Did you ever finish your history essay?”

“Cole can’t find his headphones.” Kai explained to Zane—and Nya and Jay, who had just arrived.

“Oof,” Jay said, brushing his fingers over the fabric of his scarf. “That sucks.”

Cole wasn’t listening. His headphones—he needed his headphones! Without his music—

A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his rising panic. “Hey,” Lloyd said, kneeling beside Cole. “I know it’s not the same, but…” he reached into his own backpack, pulling out a pair of earbuds, “will these work for you?”

Something in Cole softened at the gesture, even as the rest of him recoiled at the notion of using earbuds. He forced the protests down with a swallow, and took a breath. “It’ll do.” He conceded, taking the earbuds. It was way different from his boombox and headphones, but he’d rather have the earbuds than no music at all.

He still couldn’t believe he’d forgotten them. He never left home without his headphones!

“Where’s your boombox, anyway?” Nya asked, as Cole began to pick all his stuff back up and Kai and Jay and Zane all began to help him.

“It’s been acting weird lately.” Cole responded, standing up and shoving his bag into his locker. “Making weird noises.”

“Ohhh, like the record player?” Jay asked, “You said it made a weird noise on Monday.”

Cole nodded, plugging the earbuds into his walkman. He put one bud in one ear and left the other out so he could follow the conversation, and started towards his first class. The halls were emptying out, now, as the start of classes approached.

Kai, Jay, and Nya didn’t share the same first period, and peeled off to get to their respective classes. Cole leaned against Zane as they walked, and turned to Lloyd. “Thanks.” He murmured, before popping in the other earbud.

Lloyd nodded. “Of course.”

+=+=+=+=+

Garmadon attacks were all the same. Get to the hideout, get in their mechs, get out there and kick ass. Sure, there was definitely stress in how the attacks constantly interrupted their lives and put the whole city in danger, but it was a stress they were all used to. Before long, Garmadon was retreating from the crater Lloyd had made, and they were all pulling back into the hideout to relax and decompress.

Cole hopped out of the Earth Mech and beelined straight for the jukebox. His headphones may not have turned up, but at least their secret base was never lacking in terms of music players. He looked through the music they had on hand before selecting an old Three Days Grace song. The music blared, and Cole sat down heavily, pressing his cheek into the cool plastic of the jukebox as the vibrations washed over him.

“—across all of our battles, Lloyd has done significantly more damage to the city than Garmadon!” Zane was saying when Cole tuned back into the conversation.

Lloyd winced. “I—” He grunted, then went over the couch and sat on it. “I should work on that.” He finished, a bit lamely.

“Yeah, but he looked so cool doing it!” Kai put in, also taking a seat on the couch. “And besides, the city doesn’t give a damn, and they bully us all the time, so why should we care if things get a little broken?”

“That’s not very ninja of you.” Cole pointed out, still leaning against the jukebox. From where he was sitting, he watched as Jay started up a game on the TV, handing a controller to Kai. Kai took the controller, and grabbed one to offer to Lloyd, who shrugged and waved it off. Zane wheeled over to Cole and sat down next to him

“Oh, who cares!” Nya declared, hopping up over the back of the couch and landing next to Jay. “Lloyd’ll work on his ‘use every missile in his arsenal on Garmadon’ habit and we’ll continue protecting the city. Not that hard!”

Cole smiled. Yeah, Garmadon attacks sucked, but at least the aftermath was always great. Being here, hanging out in this sickass secret hideout with the rest of the Secret Ninja Force—

The jukebox shrieked. Cole stumbled back as that same awful static hissed out of it, grating against his ears. Across the room, Jay yelled, falling off the couch and taking Kai down with him.

“Dude!” Lloyd’s hands were over his ears as he winced at the noise. Zane’s head was spinning—

“Ha!” Nya stood triumphantly, unplugged power cord for the jukebox in hand—

Except the noise continued, screeching despite the loss of power. Cole winced, covering his ears with his hands and scooting further away from the jukebox. Nya similarly backed away—

And then

the noise

stopped.

Everyone stared at the jukebox. Cole lowered his hands, and groaned. “Not again.” He muttered, glaring at the poor jukebox. Now he was three for three on weird noises.

“Uh, that’s not the noise your record player and boombox made, is it?” Jay asked as he and Kai untangled themselves.

Cole grimaced, which was answer enough.

“I think you might be cursed, bro.” Kai suggested, coming over to put his hand on Cole’s other shoulder.

“Gasp!” Zane gasped. “Cole’s headphones disappeared too! I hope he’s not cursed to never enjoy music again.”

Cole stared at Zane in horror. “Never say that again, please.” Nope. No way. If Cole was cursed in some way that prevented him from listening to music, he was going to walk into the sea and never come back. He couldn’t give up music. Not for anything.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Lloyd said, in a tone of voice that suggested nothing was fine. “Maybe Garmadon’s planning something with radios and… stuff.” He didn’t quite look like he believed what he was saying, but he pushed on anyway. “And then when he attacks again we’ll find out what he was planning and put a stop to it.”

Cole snorted. “And then we beat him up?”

Nya nodded sagely. “And then we beat him up.” She agreed. “And alllll of your music problems will end.” She sounded so sure of herself, like always—Cole couldn’t help the grin starting to split his face. He stood, ambling over and plugging the jukebox in. Thankfully, when he started the song, no weird noises came out. Cole still moved over to one of the bean bags near the couch just in case.

With that, Jay and Kai started the game anew, and everyone began to properly kill time until Master Wu showed up.

+=+=+=+=+

Garmadon didn’t often attack every single day, but back-to-back attacks were nothing new, either. Weekends tended to be particularly nasty, as this one was proving to be. Still, the Secret Ninja Force were up to the task, rolling out in their mechs to defend the city as they always did.

“Guys, I think my house is haunted.” Cole commented, directing the Earth Mech around a sharp corner. The intercoms crackled slightly as the others began to reply—

Ethereal green spun into the corner of his vision, leaking face and half-there body lighting up the cockpit. “It’s not your house, dude.”

The Earth Mech slammed straight into a wall. Cole screamed, and in the same instant the—well, it really couldn’t be anything other than a ghost—disappeared, the green glow gone as soon as it had appeared. The world spun and Cole groaned, struggling to regain his bearings.  The Earth Mech was halfway into the wall.

“Please tell me you guys heard that.” Cole sighed, spinning the records to back the Earth Mech out of the newly-created hole in the wall.

“If you mean you screaming and crashing into a wall, then yes!” Zane chirped. Cole buried his face in his hands and groaned.

“Let’s try and focus on the battle at hand, guys.” Lloyd commented. “We can talk about the ghost thing later.”

“Yeah,” Cole agreed, getting back into the groove. “Let’s do that.”

+=+=+=+=+

Despite Lloyd’s comment, they all had things they needed to go do at home post-battle, so everyone split up after a few minutes spent cooling down. Cole made his way to the bus stop, pulling out his fare. Twenty minutes later, he was getting off, and started making his way through his neighborhood.

Cole’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out, and opened the group chat.

IHATEMYDAD: doomsday wont let me in :( wateryoudoing: omw bro crimedoer: lloyd your name :( 💒😲🐦: todays atk was p rough crimedoer: MOTHRFUCKER crimedoer has changed their name to bluedabbade bluedabbade: ENOUGH FI-YEAHHHH: bro whats that even supposed to mean bluedabbade: you are not being serious rn rocknroll: the song right? bluedabbade: see! cole gets it!

Cole snorted, reaching for his keys. The door opened easily, and he switched his shoes before reaching to start the record player. The moment the music started, he walked off, not wanting whatever was going on with him to break the record player (again). Sitting down on the couch, he opened the group chat up again.

FI-YEAHHHH: but your name is literally a crime 💒😲🐦: very true 💒😲🐦: jay walking is a very srs crime bluedabbade: IM NOT A CRIIMNLA FI-YEAHHHH: criimnla IHATEMYDAD: criimnla wateryoudoing: criimnla bluedabbade: JSFLDGKFHGJH bluedabbade has changed FI-YEAHHHH’s name to fi-YUCK fi-YUCK: jay wtf bluedabbade: how does it feel bluedabbade: sucks doesn’t it fi-YUCK: okay fine ig i deserve it IHATEMYDAD: nya got us banned from doomsday for a week btw wateryoudoing: it’s not my fault the manager was a jerk! rocknroll: lol IHATEMYDAD: oh yeah cole you doing alright? IHATEMYDAD: what were we supposed to hear anyway rocknroll: istfsm SOMETHING appeared in my mech rocknroll: and said it wasnt just home that was haunted bluedabbade: what, like a ghost? rocknroll: i hope not rocknroll: life is hectic enough as is fi-YUCK: amen 🙏

+=+=+=+=+

Green light crept in under the door. Cole stared at it, but it stayed firmly green instead of the hallway light’s usual yellow. Not that the hallway light should even be on, at this hour, when Cole’s dad was asleep in his room and Cole was supposed to also be asleep.

Oh, First Master, Cole did not want to get up to deal with this. Not at ass o’clock in the morning. But he was a ninja, so he sat up and rolled off the bed as quietly as possible. If someone was stupid enough to try and break in here then they were in for a surprise. But really, why green? It wasn’t even the vibrant green of Lloyd’s mech and gi—it was paler, almost sickly, maybe even lifeless.

Cole sleepily made his way to the door and rested his hand on the handle, ready to burst it open and take whoever was shining ominous green light in the hallway by surprise—

And then it was gone. Like it had never been there in the first place. Because maybe it never had.

Cole blinked. He sighed. Tiredness clung to his shoulders like a coat, and his bed was calling for him. Still, he turned the knob and opened the door just to check—

Nothing.

“Ughhhh.” Cole groaned, turning back to his bed. He was probably just seeing things. Probably.

Green light filtered into his room through the open door. Cole whirled around towards the source.

Standing at the other end of the hallway was… a ghost? It was a pale, unearthly green, slightly transparent. Holes opened and closed throughout it, and its face was too indistinct for Cole to fully make out. Okay, definitely a ghost.

Fuck. Cole practically dove towards his nightstand, snatching his phone and fumbling to unlock it. Squinting against the glaring light of the screen, he opened the camera app, turned back to the hallway, and aimed at the ghost.

The flash lit up the entire hallway. Cole cursed, hurrying to turn it off, and aimed the camera again. He opened the group chat and sent the picture.

rocknroll: i swear to teh fuckign first master criminal: is that a fucking ghost criminal: WHO THE FUCK FI-YEAHHHH: okay so coles ass is haunted criminal: KAI WAS IT YOU wateryoudoing: guys why are you up at 2 am FI-YEAHHHH: why are YOU up at two AM 🏸🏋️‍♂️🦜🎠: shockedface.jpeg

The ghost just… stood there, staring at the wall. Cole finally found the brightness settings and lowered them, keeping the ghost in his peripheral vision as he did. “What do you want from me?” He asked, not expecting a response.

The ghost turned to face him. It stared, its mouth opening. “I shou—e—ask—g—you—that.” Its voice had a crackly, echoey quality, like a skipping record or damaged cassette.

Cole bristled. “Dude,” he hissed, not really caring that he was trying to argue with a ghost, “you’re haunting me.”

The ghost crossed its arms, but the motion accidentally bumped the wall. Cole snapped another photo at exactly the same moment as the pictures on the wall fell down.

“Uh—” The ghost drifted back, “Oops.”

Cole buried his face in his hands. The group chat was still open on his phone.

rocknroll: IT WONT LEAVE ME ALONE

He sent the picture, then shoved his phone into his pocket and moved to pick up the photos. None of the frames seemed to be damaged, at least, but Cole still grumbled as he held up a photo of the Royal Blacksmiths holding the Blade Cup.

“Oh, I—rememb—that.” The ghost commented, bright green glow lighting up the photo as it leaned over Cole. Cole glared at the ghost. There was something familiar about its face, but its features kept flickering in and out, missing-unmissing in a way that kept Cole from recognizing why it looked familiar.

“It’s way too late for this.” Cole grumbled, once the wall was fixed. He supposed he could at least thank the ghost for providing light to see by—but he was too tired for that. So he settled for walking back towards his room, glaring at nothing while the ghost hovered behind him. He made it just past his door when the green light disappeared entirely.

Cole looked around, and, when he realized the ghost was seemingly gone, he sat down on his bed and opened up the group chat.

criminal has changed their name to supersonic FI-YEAHHHH: alright bro im comin over FI-YEAHHHH: gonna get all ghostbusters on this guy for you wateryoudoing: kai you are NOT going out at 2 am FI-YEAHHHH: also jay change your name back wateryoudoing: KAI supersonic: NUH UH 🏸🏋️‍♂️🦜🎠 has changed supersonic’s name to jaywalkingisacrime jaywalkingisacrime: ZANE jaywalkingisacrime: I DO NT JAYWALK FI-YEAHHHH: its in your name rocknroll: it’s gone rocknroll: for now rocknroll: kai you don’t need to come over FI-YEAHHHH: good bc i changed my mind FI-YEAHHHH: nya totally didnt drag me back inside jaywalkingisacrime has changed their name to NOTACRIMINAL 🏸🏋️‍♂️🦜🎠: sus FI-YEAHHHH: sus rocknroll: sus wateryoudoing: sus NOTACRIMINAL: i hate it here greenmachine: can you all GO TO BED

Cole closed the chat and turned off his phone, setting it on his nightstand. He flopped back onto his bed, arms spread wide and staring at the ceiling. Without the light of his phone or the ghost, he couldn’t make out any details, but he wasn’t exactly looking for anything in particular.

So he was haunted. Great. And if the jukebox at the hideout was any indication, then the ghost was following him around. Maybe even all the time.

Cole glared at the darkness. He had no idea where the ghost went, but it clearly had to be able to turn invisible given recent events. After a moment more of glaring around his room, he sighed, throwing an arm over his face.

First Master, this sucked.

+=+=+=+=+

“Hey, Garmadorks!”

As one, the Secret Ninja Force glanced over at Chen and his cronies. Cole frowned, adjusting his hold on his boombox.

Lloyd winced. “Yeah, Chen?” He tried for a smile, but it came out just as pained and awkward as always.

Chen and the other cheerleaders glared at them all. “Your dad’s last attack totalled my mom’s insurance firm.” He bit out.

“So what?” Nya asked, leaning over the table to glare at Chen directly. “Lloyd had nothing to do with that.”

“Uh, he totally did?” One of the cheerleaders objected. “It was his dad’s invasion. That’s like, involvement enough.” She twirled some of her hair around her finger as she spoke.

“Yeah!” Added another cheerleader. “And he hasn’t done anything to make up for his dad’s invasions, either.” She flipped her hair. “He totally owes the whole city reparations and stuff.”

“That makes zero sense!” Zane pointed out. “Lloyd and his father do not have contact.”

“Yeah!” Kai agreed, leaning up against Lloyd in a show of support. “Just lay off, Chen. Go back to braiding each other’s hair.” He sneered.

“Ugh, of course Garmadon hides behind his goons,” Chen groused, stepping forwards. “Real evil villain behav—”

“What—h—uck?” A new voice asked from behind Chen. A voice that was crackly and echoey in a familiar way—

Everyone jolted as a glowing green ghost appeared behind Chen, arms crossed and face missing. Nya grabbed a fork and held it threateningly, Jay shrunk back into his scarf, and Cole gripped his boombox a little tighter.

Chen and the other two turned around to face the new voice, and Chen scoffed. “Oh, yeah, real clever!” He bluffed. “But everyone knows that ghosts aren’t real—” Chen froze, his finger halfway into the ghost’s chest. Cole could only imagine the face Chen was making.

“Uhhhh, we gotta go!” Chen decided, as the other two cheerleaders nodded. “We’ve got practice, so…” And with that, they left.

Everyone stared. The majority of the lunchroom was still as active as ever, most people paying no attention to the literal ghost just feet away from Lloyd’s table. The ghost stared at them all, face flickering in and out of visibility, missing-unmissing features still frustratingly familiar but unrecognizable.

“Why are you haunting Cole?” Nya demanded, brandishing her fork in one hand and grabbing a milk carton in the other.

The ghost vanished.

Cole’s forehead hit the table with a quiet thud. He groaned in frustration. Zane’s cool hand rubbed at his back.

“Sooooo… that happened.” Lloyd said, as Kai reached over to pat Cole’s shoulder.

“I can look up how to perform an exorcism!” Zane suggested cheerfully. Cole sat up, opening his mouth to reply—

The Garmadon Alarm went off. Of all the possible timings—

“We’ll ask Master Wu later.” Lloyd suggested. “For now, we gotta get to our lockers!”

+=+=+=+=+

The texture of the record spinning under his fingers was exactly what Cole needed after weeks of being haunted. For all that Garmadon attacks sucked and made everything a thousand times harder for Lloyd, Cole could admit to finding some comfort in the familiarity of knocking about Garmadon’s generals with his mech.

“Kai, Zane, Cole, downtown!” Lloyd ordered, “I’m going after Garmadon.” It was the same setup as always, but it worked, so none of them complained. Cole rolled his mech along, knocking down as many generals on the way to the main action as he could.

Barely halfway through the horde, the music playing in the Earth Mech’s cockpit cut off with a familiar screeching sound. Cole flinched back, gripping his hood as his mech spun out of control. “No no no—”

With a final shuddering wail, the Earth Mech shut down, its one wheel spinning for a moment before the whole thing toppled over.

“Cole’s down!” Jay’s voice crackled over the radio. “On fourth street and blondo!”

“I’m on it!” Kai said, but last Cole remembered Kai was towards the other side of the city.

“Shit.” The ghost spun into existence besides Cole. “I didn—ean t—o that.”

“Yeah, well, you did.” Cole snapped, struggling with his mech’s lifeless controls. He needed to restart his mech, and fast—

Too late. One of Garmadon’s generals had already made it to the cockpit, banging on the glass. Cole barely had a moment to register the cracks spider webbing across before he had to raise his arms to protect his face from falling shards. Gloved hands grabbed his arms and hauled him out of his mech before he could do anything, tossing him towards the pavement.

Cole rolled, came to a stop, and groaned before forcing himself to sit up. The general was already on him, grabbing his shoulders and yanking him back as more generals rushed over.

“Wh—get off me!” Cole kicked, as another general grabbed his other shoulder. The ghost flickered into visibility beside him, only to disappear a moment later.

“Garmadon said to unmask him!” A general declared, and hands were reaching for Cole’s mask. No no no—

He wrenched one arm free and used to punch the general holding him, before darting off. Another general tackled him, and they grappled on the pavement.

The ghost became visible again. “Use sp—tsu!” It urged, hands passing through the generals uselessly.

“Use what?” What was the ghost talking about? Cole only half knew how to fight—the Secret Ninja Force used mechs!

A general grabbed Cole’s mask and yanked. Cole shoved forwards, slamming his head against their glass bubble thing and grabbing at their hand. Too late—another general grabbed his mask and pulled it off completely, revealing his face for all to see. He could hear all the other ninja yelling on the radio, could see Kai’s fire mech approaching the scene—which, uh, Cole would rather not be barbequed, thanks—but there were so many generals. There were too many of them! Cole needed his mech!

“Ugh, just let me—” And then the green glow phased into Cole, and—

PAIN!

The world tumbled as his head pounded. Lights flashed in front of his eyes, noise and motion pummeling his senses. I don’t want you to be sick anymore Cole did it! I caused the cave in Bequeath bequeath bequeath Nice to meet you kid Ninja never quit We don’t always get what we want That’s not a coconut ZANE! Twinkletoes couldn’t deliver the goods You know blue! Try fire dork I know who I am! I should’ve bowed out long ago It was to protect him Ninja never quit This macho stuff is making you both look like fools Don’t tell me I have to ride this like a broomstick I got the scroll! That’s not fair I’M GONNA BITE YOU Make a mockery of our family legacy! SHOW YOURSELF! I didn’t see motormouth on it You look white! It’s a bug You need to remember Grief takes many shapes and forms Ninja never quit This isn’t about numbers No problem with that HEEEEELLLLP I’d love to visit! Is that why you ran away? My dad was a blacksmith Fair isn’t a word where I come from! Close the circle Don’t think you can lie to me We’re a team Brother sharpens brother Let’s burn these memories from my head Ninja never quit Maybe you belong together! WHY WOULD YOU TOUCH THE SCARY PICTURE JAY I was gonna eat that I can make a little extra if I do the human piñata Light as a feather Pinky! Rawr Ninja never quit I’m not strong enough! But we’re UNDERGROUND Eat dirt Bluebelle! I get it Close the circle I DIDN’T KNOW IT WOULD DO THAT COLE You like my bed! Be the key! Some sing and dance It was supposed to be my day off I am the MC I’ll turn you black and blue! Ninja never quit I should have bowed out long ago This is about family! There are reputable performers that attend clown college Close the circle We’re in this together I promised to protect him! Ninja never quit JUST TAKE THE FLIER You didn’t make it out in time The mighty Cole! A prank? Really? Direct from the business end of your own weapon! Close the circle I know you too well Promise me you’ll always stand up I’m a… ghost! This dance ain’t over There’s magic in the air I saw you stand up for what is right! Close the circle Wow Lloyd’s going through puberty It’s now or never! Close the circle Win this thing See you’re missing? Close the circle Why don’t you make like a ghost and vanish? You received my message Close the circle Ha, Look at you! Some climb mountains Close the circle Not to a ghost! To those who are cruel and unjust I can’t see my reflection Close the circle Settling my debt Where is my reflection You can barely see yourself! Close the circle What are you even fighting for? Your friends have abandoned you! Your master has abandoned you! You are all ALONE!

Just one more lonely ghost, not a friend in the world—

The pavement was rough and uneven against Cole’s hands and knees, his whole body convulsing as the green glow pulled off. He retched, burning in this throat and bitterness on his lips. The world tilted as he heaved, cracked pavement coming up to slam his shoulder and side. Cole shuddered.

After a moment, the spinning slowed enough that Cole could push himself up. The green glow—the ghost—rippled where it stood amongst dismembered bones. It was as unstable as ever, but with the jumble of images and voices still rattling Cole’s brain, he could finally recognize the missing-unmissing features.

The pavement all around him was cracked, uneven, in several spider-webbing radiuses from several points. Where before Garmadon’s many generals had stood proudly, ready to fight, there were only a few of them laying across the pavement, groaning in pain or outright unconscious. Cole looked the ghost—who kept flickering like a bad lamp, rude—in the eye and spoke.

“You’re me.”

“COLE!” And then there was the rest of the Secret Ninja Force, picking their way over cracked concrete and down-for-the-count generals. Kai was the first to reach him, warm hands on Cole’s shoulders helping to steady the still-shaking world.

“What did you do to our friend?!” Nya demanded, charging at the ghost—Cole’s ghost? No, no, just calling him the ghost was fine. The ghost vanished with a crackly yelp, then flickered back into view a few feet to the left.

Cole’s head was pounding. Nausea had settled into his throat like a contented frog—he couldn’t swallow it down. The world was no longer spinning, thankfully, but he was dizzy all the same.

“I believe we have just witnessed a real-life possession!” Zane suggested. “And you should put your mask back on!”

Oh, fuck. “Right.” Cole fumbled for his mask for a moment, before Kai leaned in and helped him get it off. It was too late anyway—Cole could hear murmuring towards the edges of the street. Witnesses, no doubt. He chanced a glance, and—yep. Phones.

Fuck.

“Let’s get out of here.” Lloyd decided, still on his mech. “And quickly.”

“Yeah.” Cole nodded, still leaning on Kai. “Please.”

+=+=+=+=+

Thankfully, nobody had followed them back to the secret hideout, nor did anyone seem to have paid attention to where their mechs were going. Everyone was too busy with Cole’s identity reveal, apparently.

Cole sat down by the jukebox, leaning against Zane, face buried in his hands. His head was killing him, throbbing with constant pain as all the disjointed memories rattled around in his head. His whole body felt like a wrung-out towel.

The ghost’s soft glow was just barely visible through his fingers. Nya had the thing at spearpoint, and though its voice had somehow become clearer since the possession, its answers weren’t making any sense.

“I see someone has had their identity revealed.” Master Wu’s voice cut through the doom and gloom, everyone paying attention as their sensei entered the hideout.

“It’s not his fault!” Lloyd hurriedly defended, among a chorus of agreement from the others. “His mech broke down, because of the ghost—” He pointed at the ghost in question, who flickered in what might have been shame.

“We n—ver had to—ide our identi—ies.” The ghost said, crossing its arms. “And I—elped.”

“You have a rift in your head.” Master Wu stepped back as he spoke. “It’s no wonder you’re so unstable.”

The ghost’s mouth flickered from closed to opened, but no words came out—just formless sound that flickered in and out as the ghost’s form melted and reformed, holes opening and closing throughout him.

“And familiar, as well.” Master Wu looked astounded—if such a thing was even possible.

“When he possessed me,” Cole started, wincing as a new wave of pain spiked through his head, “I saw… memories. Or something like that.” He grimaced, gripping Zane’s arm tightly. “He’s me.”

“WHAT?!” The response from the others was immediate. Cole flinched back from the noise.

Master Wu smacked his staff against the ground, and everyone calmed down. “You’re sure?” He asked.

Cole nodded. “Except…” He fumbled for the words he needed, “it’s not quite the same.”

“I—ould—hope not.” The ghost grumbled. “This plac—s—azy.”

“So it’s some… Cole from another world?” Jay asked, sounding just as lost as Cole felt.

“Perhaps.” Master Wu said, sizing the ghost up. “Regardless, it is clear that he and Cole are… cleaved.” He lightly smacked Cole’s arm, and the ghost flinched in tandem. “The longer he is here, the more closely tied you two will become.”

Cole rubbed at his arm. “So we just gotta send him home, right?” Even though he had no idea how to do that.

“There are ways to travel to other worlds—” Master Wu began—

“Realms.” The ghost’s voice crackled. “It’s—ealms.”

“For you, maybe.” Master Wu groused. “Hmm… that complicates things.” He lifted his staff, and played the chorus of “Home” by… Daughtry, if Cole remembered right.

The ghost turned and gave Cole a helpless sort of look—just before its face flickered out of existence for a moment. Cole shrugged, not sure what the ghost was looking for.

A fresh wave of pain rolled through Cole’s head. He hissed through grit teeth—it felt like his head was splitting in two!

“Master…” Lloyd started, “If Cole and the ghost are ‘cleaved’, and the ghost has a rift in his head…” He cast a helpless look to Wu, “What’ll happen to Cole if the rift opens?”

Master Wu frowned, then grabbed his flute and played a snatch of music. Since Cole was in too much pain to identify the song, Zane spoke up instead.

“That song is ‘Explode’ by Mother Mother!” He confirmed after a moment’s search. Immediately, his smile morphed into a frown. “That is terrible news!”

Jay gasped. “COLE’S GONNA EXPLODE?!”

“If this ghost cannot be sent home,” Master Wu began, “then probably.”

“Then we gotta send this ghost home!” Nya declared, to general agreement.

“Looking up all forms of interdimensional travel!” Zane stated, a loading bar appearing over his face.

Master Wu hummed. “There is reference material on the Bounty. Lloyd, Jay, and Nya, with me.” The three hurriedly stood. “Kai and Zane, continue to monitor Cole and the ghost.” Kai nodded, holding onto Cole’s arm.

Wu turned his attention to the ghost. “Try not to rip apart.” He suggested.

+=+=+=+=+

“So this circle will send Ghost home?” Lloyd asked, looking at the chalk lines rendered by Zane’s careful hand, then at the candles Master Wu had helped to set up. The ghost was standing next to Cole, who had managed to stand—mostly by leaning most of his weight onto Kai, who stood between him and the ghost.

Master Wu looked the circle over. “It… might.” He confirmed. Everyone stared at him. “What? I’ve traveled between worlds, not to wherever he’s from.”

“L—t’s—ust—urr—p.” The ghost said, his voice having gotten worse over the past two hours. His form wavered, barely visible at all but for the brightly glowing rift on his head. He walked to the center of the circle, and looked at Lloyd. “Ligh—t—up.”

Lloyd nodded, brandishing a lighter he had found on the Bounty. He kneeled down, pressing the flame to the chalk. It caught, and the whole circle began to glow.

A hole through the ghost’s chest grew wide, more holes appearing throughout it. Everyone watched as the glow from the circle grew in intensity…

And then it didn’t. Everyone looked on in horror as the ghost flickered in place and the circle’s glow dimmed down to nearly nothing.

“No…” Lloyd said.

“C’mon, work!” Kai urged, but the circle remained inert.

“It’s ho—peless.” The ghost lamented. “I’m going to fade—fade away.” Its voice echoed with a deep sort of pain that Cole felt even if he didn’t fully understand.

“No, you’re not.” Cole protested, stumbling forwards onto the circle. “Because ninja never quit.” Recognition flashed in the ghost’s eyes, and for a moment, his body was solid enough for Cole to recognize his own face staring back at him.

“Bro—” Kai stepped into the circle to grab Cole’s shoulder. The circle began to glow softly.

“Wait…” Lloyd looked at the circle. “Everyone, get in the circle!” He ordered. Nya jumped in without hesitation, Jay hesitating before stepping within it as well. Zane wheeled forwards, and the circle’s glow brightened even further.

Lloyd stepped forwards, and the circle lit up fully with an ominous hum—

A tearing sound rang out through the hideout as a sudden wind buffeted them all. The ground shook, the whole floor lit up, the ghost’s arms lit up orange, his hands hot against Cole’s arms—

The ground disappeared from under Cole—it felt like he was pushed through a hole too small, but without being crushed in any way. The nothingness around him spun, then Cole felt a sudden twist—

Cole grunted as he impacted what felt like an old wooden floor—and as Kai landed directly on top of him. Four more impacts sounded out, and Cole squinted against the bright green glow. It looked like they had been dropped into some old building in the middle of the night—but the ghost’s green illuminated the scene just well enough. When Cole finally processed what he was looking at, his jaw dropped.

He knew the ghost was some… alternate version of him. Probably. But, if he was being honest, he hadn’t really had any expectations for what would happen beyond the vague hope that it would all work out and the ghost would no longer need to haunt him.

This was… well.

Cole watched as the ghost floated towards—it looked like a corpse, if he was being honest, skin pulled taut over the flesh. A nasty-looking hole lined with green light in the guy’s chest caught Cole’s eyes, and he winced. More off-putting than that, though, was the empty stare set into a very familiar face. His face.

The corpse stumbled forwards, and then it and the ghost both raised a hand. They reached out, and Cole wriggled in an attempt to get out from under a squirming Kai and turned-around Zane as the ghost’s fingers met the corpse’—

There was a very bright explosion.

Cole and the others were all thrown back onto a set of stairs, the hard edge digging into Cole’s gut as his chin slammed against another stair. Ow, that hurt, and now all of Zane’s weight was on top of him instead of just his legs—

Cole shoved Zane off of him, and looked around. The secret hideout was gone, replaced with an old… temple? that Cole didn’t recognize. The floor at ground level was scorched in a vaguely circular shape, two massive doors across the room were wide open, revealing a grassy field and night sky—

And there were six figures all in a heap on the floor, the one in the center sobbing with laughter. Six familiar figures, who all slowly stood while still pressed together.

Lloyd spoke first. “Hey, wait!”

The six strangers turned their attention onto the Secret Ninja Force. For a moment, nobody moved or spoke. Then—

“What the fuck?!”

[flowerishness]

Primulaceae (primrose)

Bone china

The reason we call porcelain 'china' is because it was first brought to Europe down the Silk Road during the Chinese Yuan Dynasty (1279-1368). Because it was an expensive, imported luxury product, medieval European potters started to experiment with ways to turn out local porcelain 'knock-offs', leading in several stages to the invention of bone china in 1748.

The first bone china factory was located next to a slaughter house in London, England and this is where Thomas Frye used up to 45% cattle bone ash in his new formula. Bone china is much less likely to chip and crack than traditional porcelain and by 1815 all English potteries were using this new technique.

For over a century and a half, English potteries located around the county of Staffordshire dominated the world-wide trade in fine bone china. Royal Albert Bone China was founded in 1896 and is famous for its intricate, hand-painted designs. Ironically, in recent years China itself has become the largest producer of bone china in the world. I guess it only goes to prove that old saying, "What goes around, comes around."

Royal Albert, Friendship series, 'Primrose', tea cup and biscuit plate (circa 1960)

[archernarbeta]

Do better

✴︎ pairing : Kyungsoo x Reader

✴︎ genre : angst, stubborn characters, yearning, sensitive-themes, idol!kyungsoo , more angst, kyungsoo is a jerk here but reader is also stubborn

✴︎ summary : In which Do Kyungsoo is reader’s best friend and he wants her to do better. 

✴︎ warning : TW disordered eating (starving habits, relapse), trauma, mild cursing.

This fanfic contains themes of disordered-eating, some taken from my own experience. However if there are any misinformations that you would like me to take down, please do let me know and I will be happy to. Lastly, in no way whatsoever I am promoting disordered-eating habits. We are beautiful, in our own ways, inside and out. Therefore, there is no need for us to change our appearances for others.

✴︎ word count : 4.1K

✴︎ author’s note : This was so fun to write honestly! I spent all my pent-up anger writing this fic… I might do a part two because clearly, this fic is unfinished (let me know if we want a part two) Anyways, enjoy! As usual any form of appreciation is very well appreciated! 

—

It’s been exactly 8 weeks since you stopped speaking with THE Do Kyungsoo. 

Yes, you meant Do Kyungsoo the idol, the talented chef, the amazing singer and also THE best friend, not to mention THE imbecile. 

Silent treatments, were a common occurrence especially with the stubbornness you both shared when it comes to giving in for the greater good. However this was the longest period of silence that you both had gone through and frankly for you, there’s no room for truce. 

The reason behind it couldn’t be more trivial. 

Three weekends before, you had gone on a blind-date with a mutual friend, both of you were set-up by one of your colleagues. The date went smoothly, he was a polite gentleman who offered to pick you up and took you home. Before the date, he asked about your food preference too, in which you appreciated the gesture. Overall, he’s an all rounder and you’re totally sure you’d like another date with him, even if both of you weren’t looking for anything serious. It was just nice to have someone to spend your weekend with. 

You were astounded to say the least, that the  very nice gentleman sent you a set of fine bone china mugs with penguins on them, your favourite animal, duh. He also sent a letter, mentioning your love for coffee and penguins and how he’d thought of you when he came across the mugs a while ago. He wished that you would use the set to enjoy your morning coffee every morning.

—

On a given Sunday, Kyungsoo was supposed to come over to your place for a playdate since you haven’t seen each other in forever. He arrived with groceries and snacks for a pasta cook-out, he always mentioned that you were always too thin and too cold for his liking–that’s why he’s always so keen to feed you delicious and nutritious meals, even though you really didn’t like eating in general. 

You both settled on the dining table with each a cup of tea in hand and a plate of cookies that he’d baked beforehand, they were oatmeal and vanilla almond- with the least amount of sugar, suited to your liking.

After a much needed catch-up session and a plate with nothing left more than cookie crumbs, you helped him prep the ingredients for his anchovy pasta. In which, you chose to casually slip the bomb of ‘I’ve met a nice guy, we had a couple of dates, he was such a gentleman, he even gave me these super cute mugs.’ 

At your narrative, Kyungsoo replied with soft hums and nods before replying, “You know y/n— I really think he might be taking advantage of you.” He nonchalantly said while stirring the fettuccine, calmly raising the pasta strands with a fork to check how they’d cook through.

“W-what? Where did that come from?” 

“Why else would he be showering you gifts like these?” He waved around the penguin mug in front of your face in an irritating manner. 

You gasp at his groundless accusation, “Soo! He’s clearly just being a nice- decent human being! How could you accuse him of such things?!” 

You were literally in disbelief. Your best friend was usually the logical one in the friendship and having him belittle a guy like this, left you perplexed. He had no reasons whatsoever to insult a stranger, more so-your date. 

The timer rang before he had a chance to reply. In his relaxed composure, he turned off the stove and strained the pasta, moving them to the pan next to it. He continued cooking for a while, mixing the fettuccine with the pan-seared anchovies and tomato. If you haven’t been friends with him for all these years, you would probably be left speechless at how he just left you mid-conversation to tend to his cooking- but here you are, still amazed at how engrossed the man is in finishing his dish before anything else. He added the last touch of basil before facing his back to the kitchen counter as he faced you with a judging look, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“Y/n… You really are gullible sometimes, huh? He gave you a set of mugs and now you’re so swooned that you’re defending him? Over me- your best friend?” He half mocked you and rolled his eyes, giving off a much less of a smirk.

“W- what?! I am not! I can’t believe you right now? Can you hear yourself and how ridiculous you’re being right now?”

“Me? Ridiculous? What’s so ridiculous about protecting a best friend from strangers she just met!?” He exclaimed, shoulders shrugging showing his indifference. 

“He- he’s not a stranger! I told you! Why can’t you be happy that I had a good date?” You sassed back.

“I’m a man and I can see right through him! He’s just a jerk wanting a hookup from you!” He raised his voice.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” You barked at his accusations.

“I got a nice date once and suddenly I’m gullible?” Anger seeping through your every word. You weren’t thinking clear anymore, all you see was red, you can feel the rage rising in the back of your head,

“You know what Soo? I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry that you’re jealous- and so fucking sorry for you because your glamorous idol life left you love deprived!”

The damage was done. You’ve said it and now you only wished you could take it back. You stopped yourself as you covered your foul mouth with regret. Your eyes were shaking as you looked at him with remorse.

He stared back at you, eyes unmoving. He was sometimes unreadable like this. It was in his character really, the unpredictability and the stealth gaze, often left you wondering what’s going on inside his head. He clicked his tongue once, enough to startle you and diverted your whole attention to him. He hummed, another habit of his. You mentally braced yourself for the storm coming. 

“Love deprived?” he darkly chuckled, your penguin mug on the counter, under his hold.

“That’s the lowest you could do?” His smirk wiped away from his face as he gave a flat expression while pushing the mug away from the counter with force.

The scene flashed before your eyes, the penguin-faced mug hitting the floor, the clashing sound of china in contact with the marble floor rang through your ears. You gasp in shock as the mug shattered in pieces and there was nothing you could do but stare at the once cute cup.

You had your mouth hanging open- speechless, unaware that you were shaking. The crime scene unveiling in front of you left you appalled and you wondered if this person is the best friend you’ve always known your whole life. 

“Shame. You could’ve done better Y/n,” he pauses, “Maybe you’ll realise that you have better options than Mr. Penguin Mugs.”

Your body kept shuddering as you tried to gain composure,

“Get out.” You trembled.

“Two can play a game, Y/n” His voice taunting yet his face stoic, staring at you.

“Out!” you screamed at him 

So much emotions were whirring inside of you that your eyes water. Anger? Yes, a lot of rage was brewing in you but disappointment and sadness was an understatement.

“WHO the hell are you and what have you done to Kyungsoo!” Your sudden voice must’ve taken him by surprise as his eyes were back to normal, you walked up to him hitting his chest with little to no energy,

“I don’t want a fucking asshole as a friend! You’re not welcome here!”

If you were angry seconds ago, now you feel like crying.

“Leave!” as you pointed at the door, gesturing him to leave.

Kyungsoo bent down to pick up remnants of the penguins face, slowly placing them on the counter, like it could change a thing.

His next action took you by surprise as he scooped the rest of the broken china with bare hands to throw the shards to the nearest bin, hurting himself in the process. You found that a bit later though, when a drop of blood stain was evident on the lid of your trash can. 

He exhaled a breath, “Eat. Do not skip meals. Don’t be stupid. Call me when you stop being foolish.” 

You wordlessly trembled, standing with no more energy in your figure as he exited your apartment.

—

Ever since the messy encounter with him 8 weeks ago, a lot had changed. 

You stopped contacting Mr. Penguin Mugs a week after your fight with Kyungsoo, you just didn’t have the heart to deal with the lovely man and it broke your heart (a little) that you threw away the chance to be with a nice guy. But a certain someone did fill your thoughts during that time, a certain imbecile with heart-shaped lips that you would really like to hate.

Again, you had your fair shares of silent wars with him but this one hurts the most, or at least your pride did. You could recall his last memo of him, asking you to not skip meals but you decided that Do Kyungsoo was not the boss of you. You didn’t care, you weren’t gonna listen to him.

The fight did trigger you and even though it was childish of you to purposely skip meals, you began to refrain from eating at all. In the back of your head, you knew better than this, you were better than this, however without Kyungsoo by your side to aid you, you faltered. 

In the past years, you had a history with disordered eating. Coming from an almond-mum and a Korean all girls school, appearance was something vital to maintain, yet it resulted in you finding ridiculously dangerous ways to abstain yourself from eating.

It was a rough patch but all those years, Soo was there for you. He’d do the cooking, the persuading and the gentle praising, making sure he won’t overwhelm you. Kyungsoo might seem reserved and unreadable at times but he was full of care, too much even- to the point that you felt like a walking ‘handle-with-care’ sticker.

After you recover, you’ve managed to fix your relationship with food a bit better but there are times where the wounds would open up. You haven’t relapsed in a long time now, having to attend coaching sessions for healthy intuitive eating programs and having Soo on the sidelines to support you. 

Nevertheless, your relapse now was justified that at this point you were blinded by hurt. You were in pain and no one was there to aid you this time. 

It doesn’t take a genius to figure that the constant meal skipping would lead to fatigue, weight loss and eventually malnutrition, which is exactly what you’re suffering right now. The worse thing than losing your best friend is this, but hey you’re experiencing both of them at the same time! In your defense, you did try to get better, drinking spinach juice to try to fill the anguish hunger in your stomach, just to throw it all up again.

Honestly back then, when you experienced disordered eating, spinach juice was your holy grail that kept you full for longer hours without having to physically chew anything. Yet as your metabolism went to shambles, your body wouldn’t cooperate with any of the food you intake. 

—

Kyungsoo wasn’t doing any better. 

Seconds after he looked at your startled face and stepped foot out of your apartment, he wished time travel existed. He admits that he was an asshole but he didn’t mean to get things that far and he’d say those things to protect you even though he failed to project them in a nicer-manner (which was totally why he’s at fault, he knows this too-by the way). He wanted to apologise the next day-though he thought that giving you space would be a better option as he was scared to hurt you further. What he didn’t expect was the silence that went on for weeks. 

Kyungsoo busied himself, he had his filming schedules packed as tight as possible and he picked up projects like they were cherries on trees. Even the members were astonished when he brought up his contract to join a variety show, which was so unexpected of him.  All the time not talking to you left him confused, if he was really trying to protect you or if he was jealous of you, or your date. He tried brushing it off, but you were always on the back of his mind. He’d try figuring out how he feels about you but that would spiral in a worse direction, he didn’t have the heart to admit that he misses you, his best friend. 

—

On the sixth-week mark of your cold war, you were admitted to the hospital for severe malnutrition and extreme weight loss. Chanyeol was the one who hospitalised you.

Chanyeol—who became friends with you because of Kyungsoo–had visited you a couple times after the fight to check up on you. You wanted to turn your back on him and his hospitality but the friendly man with cute giant ears was so hard to refuse. 

Initially, Chanyeol’s visit were out of concerns due to the fight you had with Kyungsoo, but the visits became frequent when he noticed you became leaner by the day, your moves were slower and it was visible that performing simple task were difficult for you.

He tried his best to discreetly offer professional help, even though he wasn’t aware of your disordered eating history, he simply wanted to help without offending you, in which you declined politely, saying you were fine. 

That day, even with arduous attempts to conceal your weakness, your body soon gave up after opening the door for Chanyeol. Given your conditions, you had no room to refuse anymore as Chanyeol carried you to the hospital. The only thing you managed to muster before blacking out was, 

“Don’t tell Kyungsoo.”

On the week you were hospitalised, Kyungsoo was busy filming somewhere in a rural area in Japan. It was a fresh experience, a breath of fresh air for his career yet all he could think of was you. 

The eight-week mark had passed and after two weeks of being hospitalised, it was a shame that you didn’t show signs of improvement regardless of the constant IV that kept you at bay. That’s the thing with relapsing, you know this, nothing will work unless you want to get better—and you haven’t found a reason to do so.

But it was a little bit bearable when Chanyeol came in to visit, sometimes bringing other members with him to cheer you up and give you extra encouragement. You particularly love when he brings Minseok along, the older was the most well-mannered of the bunch and he just feels like an older brother. 

— 

The sliding door of your hospital ward suddenly slammed open, you instinctively diverted your attention to the door, finding a familiar figure walking in with eyes ready to shoot lasers at you. 

“W-what the fuck?” you eyed him. “Why the hell are you here? What are you doing here?”  

You were surprised at your energy to snap at the man whilst you half-sat on a hospital bed with an IV attached on your hand. And here I thought I was weak.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? Why the fuck are you here?” he retorted, “I heard you’re sick but I’m surprised that your stupidity still tags along after 2 months.” he scorned, his bluntness never goes away huh?

“W-what? What did you say to me?”

“Even though we’re fighting and you’re mad you could’ve hit me instead. Yell, scream, curse at me- I couldn’t care less if you did,” he paused, “but why would you starve yourself again?”

By the tone of his voice, although you could pick up his anger- his disappointment, you really didn’t want to put down your ego. 

“I’m not here because of you, idiot. Now what are you doing here? Go away” You countered him. 

“Are you blind? As you can see I’m visiting a friend. A very sick and a stubborn one at that.” he managed to scoff at your act. You rolled your eyes, not even baffled at this point.

“No one told you to. Now, leave.” you pointed at the door.

“A little tall birdie did, he begged me to come.” he stills on the ends of the hospital bed

“Well, thanks for coming but you are really uninvited here. Please follow the door to exit.” you gave him a sarcastic smile.

“And if I won’t comply? What are you gonna do?” he taunts back. “Would you tell Chanyeol or Sehun to take me away? And why do you think they’ll comply with your request? They’re scared of me more than of Junmyeon-Hyung,” he looked around the room before focusing his eye-contact back to you.

“The only thing you could do to kick me out in your sickly state is call the nurse… that’s if, you’re willing to bear the consequence of reporting an idol?” he rambled. 

“Oh you little shit..”

“Don’t you little shit me,” he mocked back,

“You know, Chanyeol might’ve given away your conditions but he’s certainly not the one watching MY reality show for the past weeks.”

You mentally cursed.

He gave out a laugh, before continuing in a stern tone,“The only person logged in my SBS account is you. Did you miss me so badly that you liked all those clips using my account?”

“Do better, y/n.” he finished, before abruptly leaving the room. 

You were left astounded, just like the moment he exited your apartment 8 weeks ago. But this time, not long after, he came back bringing what looked like a lunchbox. He quietly sat down on the chair next to your bed while opening one of the containers, you only could stare at him in confusion. 

Do Kyungsoo was indeed unpredictable.

“Do better, eat better, y/n. So you can fight me again.” He spoke up before offering a spoonful of porridge to your mouth. You gazed at the spoon in front of you before shifting back at him. You silently refused. 

“Open up,” he said softly and you did. There was something about his voice that made you comply with his requests, like it was laced with care and concern. 

You opened your mouth and carefully swallowed his cooking. The taste wasn’t foreign to you, it was his pumpkin and sweet potato porridge. He made it for you every time you’re upset, making the dish your ultimate comfort food. After the first spoonful, you were bracing yourself for a reflux but it never came, you were able to stomach his food just fine. 

“Good girl” he praised you before handing another scoop to your mouth, asking you to have more. 

As you ate quietly, he spoke, 

“You need to do better than this y/n. You need energy to curse at me- hit me…and that’s why you need to eat to recover,” his forehead creased as he expressed his thoughts yet it didn’t stop him from feeding you every spoon. 

“It’s- It’s so frustrating you know? Looking at you like this… I-I almost lost it when Chanyeol called saying you’ve been admitted for two weeks! I was in Japan and I never wanted to pack my bags so quickly..”

“Y-you..You’re so frustrating-“ he let out a breath he unconsciously held. You could see his eyes weren’t as calm, like he had other complaints he’d like to express but he held back. With the last spoonful, he closed the container and discarding it back to the lunchbox. 

He softly muttered, “Rest well, I’ll be back tomorrow,” he gave a quick peck on the crown of your head, an action that surprised you, before leaving the ward. 

He did come back the next day and the day after that, and another day after that. He made sure that he was the first sight you see in the morning. 

This time, he brought chicken soup. Sadly, the smell didn’t react well with your body as you instantly gagged. He immediately rushed you to the bathroom, pulling your IV off in one smooth motion in the process, leaving you unscathed even with the sudden movement .

You managed to hold it in until you reached the toilet bowl. As you threw up, you helplessly cried, Kyungsoo kept still and supported your figure by the elbows. He softly grasped your hair away from you while you hurled the contents of your stomach. The action left you breathless, exhausted as tears stained your face while you slid down the bathroom floor, you really didn’t have any energy left.

You pity yourself for your relapse, it felt- disgraceful of you to do so. You hid your face with your hands as you sobbed. Fucking disgusting, you told yourself. 

Kyungsoo was distressed seeing you like this, especially the fact that he might have some contributions to your relapse, it was even more upsetting for him. He didn’t hug you, he was too much of a coward for that. So he did what he could. Kyungsoo grabbed some napkins and a glass of water outside and came back into the bathroom. He kneeled down to gently tap the hands covering your face, signalling that he’d like to see your face. You slightly look up to see a calm attentive face, care- radiating from his eyes. He wiped your tears and then your mouth, offered you a warm glass of water in which you accepted without repulse. 

Both of you stayed quiet for a while before muttering, “Let’s go back to bed.”

He helped you stand up, tucked you back in the hospital bed and called the nurse to reattach the IV he skilfully dismantled. The nurse went berserk on him when she learned of the incident. The situation was truly unpredictable but his actions could’ve seriously injured you. He mumbled his apologies as he nodded in regret while listening to the nurse’s scoldings. Not long after, she left both of you to your own devices. 

“Don’t say anything, please?” you quietly begged while looking at him. 

Today felt like your turn to burst. He nods without hesitation, firmly holding eye contact with you.

“I’m tired Soo…” you audibly exhaled, tears welled on your already puffed eyes.

You took your time to look at the light blue colour of the hospital blanket, then shifted your eyes to the ceiling of the ward while trying to find words to carry on the conversation. 

“I am-“ you stuttered, “f-fuck. I’m fucking tired, you know?”

You just… didn’t have the energy as your tears flowed through your hollow cheeks, dropping to your chin and eventually wetting the blanket. His eyes never left you, catching each and every of your pained expressions. 

You had lost your spark, the burning passion and gleam behind your eyes were gone. Your being felt hollow, just a soulless body- empty, dull and glum.

He despised it, the dullness in your eyes. He hated it with all his heart, knowing his efforts were meaningless since he couldn’t stop you from getting worse. He loathes the fact that this time, he was helpless when the love of his life, his best friend, his light, is giving up in front of his eyes.

“Soo…” you whispered, reaching out for his hand with sorrowful eyes. He instantly held yours, warmth emitting from his hold as he looked at you with so much care. Even intertwining hands with you broke his heart at the coldness of your touch. 

“Do better, okay?” you let go of his hand from your hold.

The wet tracks of your tears hadn’t stopped yet you managed to prop up an expressionless gaze as you stared at him. You were in pain, so was he, and you didn’t want to hurt him more.

He knew what you meant, he knew what you wanted him to do. 

He knew exactly what to do, not that he wanted to. 

He was your lifeline, a drug to salvation- You needed to heal without him. 

He didn’t understand, he had so many questions formulating in his head but he knew better than to pry. He was hurt but prying meant hurting you further, which was the last thing he’d do.

He stood up, kissed your cheeks, stroked your hair and pecked the crown of your head one last time before heading out to the door. 

He slammed the sliding door hard, hopefully to let you know how wrong of you to ask him to leave. But he never looked back, because he was too much of a coward for that.

—

a/n: should we do a part 2 ??

[undercover-ballerina]

Trailblazing & Stargazing - Chapter 25

On Monday morning, Hermione woke up in the arms of Draco Malfoy, for the second time in as many days. In the faint light that came from the streetlamp outside, she looked at his face. His features were relaxed, his lips slightly parted, his cupid bow was deliciously tempting. She decided to get up, not wanting to mess up her routine. And definitely needing to clear her head. She slithered out of the bed, making sure not to wake him, and headed to the living room closing the bedroom door behind her. She put on her yoga clothes and began her sun salutations.

She was halfway through her practice when Draco rushed out of her bedroom, stark naked, wand in hand and with a slightly panicked look, only to find her stretching her back and legs in downward dog. He took a deep breath and his posture relaxed.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what on earth are you doing with your arse in the air at 5AM?” He asked, tilting his head sideways looking at her with a raised brow and the hint of a smirk.

“It’s my yoga routine. I do this every morning. Helps me focus and keeps my muscles strong and flexible.” She explained, still upside down.

“If I may, I might have a suggestion to improve this routine. Flexibility and all.” He grinned as he approached her.

“You may not!” She said as she transitioned into warrior one pose. “Since you are up, you can start making breakfast.” She blew him a kiss and he huffed in protest as he went back into her room to get dressed, A few minutes later he walked by her, heading towards the kitchen.

When she was done with her routine, Hermione went into the kitchen where Draco was waiting for her. He kissed her the moment she was through the door.

“Good morning to you too.” She chuckled when they broke the kiss.

The table was set for breakfast with two steaming cups of tea, warm and buttery pain au chocolat in a small woven basket with an embroidered napkin, creamy scrambled eggs and crisp stir-fried vegetables in fine bone-china plates with gilded rim, foamy cappuccinos in cups that matched the plates, a fresh flower arrangement in a tall crystal vase.

Hermione looked at him sideways. “I’m pretty sure none of this came from my pantry.” She said.

“Granger, your pantry was a post-atomic wasteland. I had Carson bring provisions. Enjoy a decent breakfast for once. You’re welcome.” He scoffed but still pulled out the chair for her.

[ajgrey9647]

Offering them up as the entertainment to party guests to do with as they please: Sentries Skull & Adam~

The Real Lady Drakkon

She cast discrete glances through her long lashes, lifting the crystal wine glass with its pool of deeply scarlet liquid to her lips. The flickering light from the chandeliers played across Lord Drakkon’s angular features, which were more pronounced than the Tommy Oliver of Scorpina’s world. He was older than the boy she’d once fought alongside during the height of Rita’s Green Ranger days, twenty years older by the tyrant’s estimate. A fine weaving of black veins ghosted the flesh of his neck, reaching as high as his hollowed cheek bones as if the man bore an infectious disease.

‘An overload of Grid energy,’ the woman noted. ‘Mere humans were not meant to use the power of two coins at the same time. Their pitiful bodies can’t handle the side effects.’

To her discerning eye, however, Lord Drakkon appeared to be tolerating the combined energy quite well. Strapped with thick muscle unlike the lanky, leaner Green Ranger, he boasted an impressive physique under the elaborate formal attire that stretched snugly over his biceps and chest. Definitely not hard on the eyes if Scorpina could ignore the memories of the freckle-faced, childish Tommy Oliver, who somehow turned into quite the wet blanket once freed from Rita’s obedience spell.

She hadn’t foreseen becoming trapped in an alternate universe in her future, certainly not one as dystopian and… ‘Gothic’ was the term she needed, yet the alien bounty hunter wasn’t familiar with such human terminology. Here in the Coinless realm, Rita Repulsa had won, destroying the Rangers and taking over the Earth.

But such feats had cost the witch her life, dying at the hands of those snot-nosed little brats before they’d scattered like a nest of cockroaches. Scorpina found herself under the protective gauntlet of this ‘Lord Drakkon’, a more aggressive and lethal version of Tommy, who’d taken the reigns and ruled over this bizarre Wonderland.

Tonight, he’d thrown a grand ball to celebrate her arrival and make the proper introductions to the aristocracy. The cavernous room seemed to sparkle as the array of candlelight reflected off the cut crystal vases, wine decanters, and goblets, twinkling upon the handles of sterling silver and ivory utensils, and highlighting the intricate engraving of the fine China plates and bowls.

Fragrant blooms tumbled over the lips of vases situated in the middle of linen-covered tables and the music of stringed instruments floated delicately through the air, playing music of a by-gone era. Several of the aristocracy, bedecked in jewels, silks, furs, and sweeping ballgowns twirled across the dance floor in something Drakkon informed her was called a ‘waltz’, before taking his place at the head of the table.

As he sat staring down at the grandeur of his wealth and power, the man’s expression was impassive, almost bored. Idly, he swirled the wine in his chalice, taking the smallest of sips as an afterthought. The plate before him boasted an aromatic cut of lamb with mint sauce, new potatoes swimming in rich butter, and bourbon-glazed carrots, all untouched. It smelled delicious to Scorpina and she was confused as to why the evil Ranger allowed it to grow cold as the band continued to play and the dancers gracefully executed the elaborate steps in a harmonious rhythm.

Lord Drakkon must have felt her eyes trailing over him and, when he slowly turned his head in her direction, she quickly averted her face, cheeks flaming. Quickly, the petite woman pretended to be engrossed in the activity taking place just across the room from where all the gaiety was taking place. For those uninterested in dancing or feasting, the tyrant had thoughtfully catered to a different sort of appetite, one that jarred with the fancy, ethereal ball going on about them.

A select number of Sentry guards, boasting all colors and ranks, were contorted in various positions in all stages of undress as they serviced Drakkon’s sycophants, each man’s face etched in sheer passion and enthusiasm though they truly felt anything but…

There was a steep price to pay if one didn’t play ball, so to speak… If they were to sour the illusion and the fun being had…

One of them, a dark-haired Red Sentry Captain, artfully managed to sit astride one partner while also being mounted from behind before a third cock found its way into the inviting mouth. The sweaty drunks grunted and groaned, sounding like pigs in mud as they used this guard like an old gym sock.

Scorpina had to admit that the Sentry had talent, moving in tandem with the motions of the bloated bodies crushing against his own.

“Enjoying yourself, my dear?” Drakkon’s rich, elegant voice cut into her thoughts.

The evil Ranger’s deadly fingers uncurled from the stem of his wine glass, the action strangely mesmerizing, as he settled it on the tabletop before he hooked one to summon one of his servants.

“Refresh the lady’s beverage,” he ordered icily.

His mouth smoothly shifted into a flirtatious smile when he again met Scorpina’s eyes.

The warrior curled her moist ruby lips, slowly licking the lingering drops of red wine from the lower.

“Yes, your lordship. I appreciate all the generosity you’ve bestowed upon me,” she purred.

Lord Drakkon favored her with a grin of his own, the sight more one of horror than friendly endearment.

“You are most welcome, Scorpina. A friend of my former empress is a friend of mine,” he responded, the sentiment sounding as if read from a script. “Rita was a remarkable woman. It was an honor to serve her.”

The loud moaning of several men reaching climax erupted from the ‘dark side’ of the ballroom, though the tyrant remained as nonchalant about the interruption as he would a bird swooping through the sky.

“I’m sure that you long as much as I do to avenge our empress’s demise at the hands of those troublesome Coinless filth.”

Tears pricked Scorpina’s eyes, and they glistened in the candlelight.

“I can’t believe they killed her… I thought Rangers had some type of hero’s code or something,” she growled.

This Coinless universe was very different from the one she knew, a place ‘out-of-time’, relegated back to the days of old. The social hierarchy was something the woman warrior intended to commit to heart, knowing that the best odds for survival came with aligning with the one most powerful.

Drakkon grunted dismissively, his eyes staring out into the bustle of the ballroom.

“As I did as well. However, teenagers can be…fickle. Impulsive. Temperamental.”

Pushing his chair back from the table, he hauled his large form from the upholstered seat, garnering the attention of the others in attendance. Gracefully, Drakkon strode to Scorpina’s side, pausing to hold out a gloved hand, his glossy, gray-streaked mane brushing his waist when he bowed.

“Care for a waltz? I’m an excellent teacher,” he cooed.

A chilly aura radiated from his proffered arm, whether due to the combined, bastardized coin or his own person, she was uncertain. But clearly, this was the one she needed to beguile; she would just have to ignore the fact that this was essentially the more deadly twin of the boneheaded Tommy Oliver.

Batting her lashes playfully, she pretended to dry her eyes and accepted the invitation.

“I’d love to, Lord Drakkon,” she whispered breathily as she daintily placed her fingers over the glove’s alarmingly cold silk.

He assisted the woman to her feet, then the pair skirted the length of the expansive, linen-draped table; the villain guiding her gallantly as if they were in some old-fashioned romance novel. All eyes were on them when they reached the dance floor and Scorpina pressed her svelte form seductively against the tyrant’s body.

Lord Drakkon seemed to loom over her, his hulking build dwarfing her own, much like a grizzly bear balanced on its hind legs. The thought of those rippling muscles sent a tingle directly to her groin and she wandered if the man could feel her nipples, not constrained by any bra or bodice, through the silk of their garments. If he did, his expression didn’t give it away as he began to grandly twirl her about the ballroom.

From the head table, Drakkon’s two ‘head guards’ kept watching, their attention sweeping the grand room for any signs of dangerous foe.

The Ranger Slayer, an older, more hostile version of that annoying Kimberly Hart, was dressed in a daring black and pink ball gown, the skirt split up the thigh to accommodate a tussle if one was called for. Her brown hair shorn and ears sporting multiple piercings, along with a battle-hardened brittleness to her pretty features, almost made her unrecognizable as the former Pink Ranger.

Watching with detachment as her master moved about the room with Scorpina on his arm, the Slayer’s expression never altered much as if she were incapable of expressing any emotion.

Not so with the lithe, gray-haired man that had been eating at Drakkon’s right hand, his lowly position accentuated by his place on the floor instead of at the table proper. However, his formal attire was a black, form-fitting suit accentuated with flashes of silver. His hands were covered by fancy black gloves that appeared to somehow sparkle when he moved his arms.

Even as he dutifully assessed the assembled party, he glared down at Scorpina with glittery eyes, though his mouth was fixed in a facsimile of a wide grin, showing all his beautiful white teeth beneath a dark beard. Whoever he’d once been, or whatever version of some Prime universe human, Scorpina didn’t know.  But it was evident that the pet didn’t like her touching Drakkon as the woman looked up at him, feeling the weight of his fury on her.

“You are quite the dancer,” she complimented her partner, daringly tracing a red lacquered nail along the villain’s jaw, an obviously flirtatious move designed to aggravate the human-canine. “There must be some way I can repay you for you protection and hospitality.”

Watching the impertinent tart throwing herself at his master, Red’s grin shifted into a jealous snarl, his gloved fingers hooking as if they claws were they rested on his powerful thighs. He nearly growled aloud when a firm hand settled over his thick, shaggy hair. Ranger Slayer had quietly moved down to sit beside him, and she imperceptibly shook her head.

“Down, boy,” she ordered robotically.

Lord Drakkon continued to sway and dip the errant Prime visitor as if he didn’t notice the overt way she was trying to seduce him. Whether he was truly oblivious or just fucking around wasn’t yet certain.

Now, Scorpina’s fingertips brushed the tyrant’s jaw, teasing at his lower lip as she lifted herself on tip-toe under her mouth was very close to his.

“Surely, there’s SOMETHING I can offer in return,” she breathed, letting the implication linger as she upped the ante.

Ranger Slayer could see the woman was pushing it with Red, who’s mouth now gaped open in a version of a canine lifting its hackles, promising swift bloody death. Kim’s hand had glided to the back of the pet’s neck, scruffing him, while the sharp point of her bow, obscured by the tabletop, poked his chest, dissuading him from bounding over the elaborate feast and tearing into the woman.

“Stay!” she hissed. “Behave yourself, bad dog!”

“I’m going to tear that little bitch to shreds,” he rasped vehemently, daringly pressing into the sharp blade of the bow as if he didn’t even register the growing cut, beads of blood appearing on the cold steel.

The Slayer cursed, the word sounding bizarre with no emotion behind it as she gripped Red’s neck more tightly and lifted the pointed heel of her stiletto to hover it over his groin.

“No, knock it off! Heel this minute!”

The notes of the dance slowly faded away then and the dictator briskly stepped back from Scorpina’s cloying embrace.

“Allow me to consider what would best please me,” he simpered, lifting a delicate hand to his lips. “In the meantime, I wish to present you with a special gift… A token of my appreciation for the promise of your future assistance in dealing with my quarrelsome Coinless resistors.”

He gave a piercing whistle.

An almost angelic looking Black Sentry appeared at his side within moments.

“He will escort you to your room, my lovely. You may use him for your pleasure however you see fit,” he smirked. “I would prefer to keep him in service as he’s also an excellent seamstress, so I’d appreciate whatever activity you undertake not end in his death. But…”

He shrugged.

“Things happen. I can understand that better than anyone.”

Drakkon clapped his hands twice and emitted another sharp whistle to get the other guests’ attention.

“Party’s over… Now get the fuck out of my palace!”

As if anyone needed told twice…

Scorpina had looked confused even as she took the Black Sentry’s elbow and allowed him to guide her from the ballroom. Drakkon played up wide-eyed obliviousness until the petite woman was out of sight. It took much to reign in the mischievous laughter that threatened to bubble over at the whole sordid situation.

He strutted comically back towards where Red and Ranger Slayer sat, grandly scooping up his chalice for another sip of wine, a job well done.

“Such a gullible one, isn’t she? A little disappointing from the Scorpina that battled the Rangers at my side,” he idly commented. “Still, she warrants keeping a careful eye on, my darlings. There’s information she possesses that could be most helpful to my cause…”

“I don’t like her!” Red suddenly snapped, speaking out of tune in a way he knew would earn him the strap. “She’s a little bitch!”

He’d leapt to his feet, almost toppling Kim onto her ass, and he looked like he was about to stomp his foot in a childish tantrum.

Even the usually emotionless Ranger Slayer looked taken aback by the spiteful outburst. She knew that Red knew better than to speak without express permission, to curse in Drakkon’s presence, or give his opinion without it being asked for. The mutt was asking for it at this point.

But the tyrant chuckled tenderly, reaching out to grab a handful of the front of the pet’s fancy attire. He tugged Red over the table until they were face to face.

“Aww…. Got a touch of the green-eyed monster, darling,” he teased, before slowly lapping his tongue over the other man’s lips.

“Don’t fret… I only have eyes for you, my beautiful Red.”

The anxious pet was still not soothed, his dark eye large and wet, as if he might burst into nervous, insecure tears.

Drakkon sighed, rolling his eyes at the mutt’s dramatics.

“Why don’t you show me just how much I mean to you in our chambers tonight? I might even spare you getting the strapping you so rightfully deserve for bumping your gums like you just did…If you do a good job expressing your devotion, of course.”

Strolling arm in arm with the waif-like Black Sentry, a man who’d quietly stated his name was Adam as if she gave a fuck, Scorpina puzzled on where exactly she’d went wrong this evening. The woman knew she was attractive with a toned, trim figure, perky breasts, and a tight ass. Normally, human men drooled over her appearance.

Her eyes cut over to this ‘Adam’, who’d wisely remained silent, an obviously submissive little worm. The Sentry wasn’t bad looking either, his features still maintaining a patina of innocence despite his day job. She could do a lot with that and as horny as she was, that was a good thing for them both.

But something nagged at her.

“Let me ask you a question,” she demanded, visibly startling the dark-haired man.

“Yes, milady,” he politely responded. “How may I be of service?”

She paused as she considered how to phrase her musing.

“So, Lord Drakkon…” Scorpina began. “He’s a very handsome man… Powerful…rich…”

Adam nodded slowly, his expression hesitant as if he didn’t want to talk about his lord. Or maybe he was too afraid to.

“Yes, ma’am, he is,” he carefully answered.

Was this insect daft? How did he not get what she angling to find out?

“Well…” the warrior prodded impatiently. “Surely, there’s a…I don’t know… a ‘Lady Drakkon’ in residence?”

The Black Sentry came to a sudden halt, nearly causing her to fall backwards.

“I’m sorry… What? A Lady Drakkon?”

Adam looked genuinely lost.

“I think the lady’s asking if our dapper dictator has a lover. Am I right?” another voice echoed up the corridor, sounding somewhat amused, though exhausted.

Looking over his shoulder, the Black Sentry caught sight of Skull limping his way towards them, his hair pulled in sweat-dried tufts, lips swollen, and stinking of body odor and sex.

Scorpina curled her lip in disgust.

“That’s exactly what I’m asking, you breathing sex doll. Is there a lady who has his heart?”

Suddenly the men erupted in a roar of laughter, the Red Sentry Captain even slapping his thighs as he bent at the waist, grimacing through the giggles.

“A woman who has his heart…” Skull crowed. “A fucking HEART!”

Adam at least tried to reel it in in order to spare her feelings.

“Oh, there IS a Lady Drakkon, I guess… I mean, technically…”

He looked to the other man, unsure how to explain the wildness in his own words.

“That isn’t the title I’d use exactly,” Skull snorted. “Well… sometimes it works…”

Scorpina pushed the soft-spoken Sentry off her person, planting her hands on her hips.

“What are you two going on about? How is there a ‘sort of’ Lady Drakkon? Is she like a high-priced whore or mistress or something?”

This only caused the men to laugh harder.

“Something you should know around here,” the Red Sentry Captain explained between guffaws, “you won’t get anywhere with Lord Drakkon. But word to the wise… You’re better off just not discussing it or asking questions when it comes to his personal affairs.”

Scorpina rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Let me guess who the lucky gal is,” she snarked. “It’s the same in my universe! Little Miss Kimberly Hart!”

Adam tried to hide the look of distaste behind a gloved hand.

“Lord, your universe is messed up!” he remarked. “That’s sort of nasty. Ranger Slayer? And Drakkon?”

The woman couldn’t see what the big deal was.

“Why are you acting so grossed out? Tommy’s got a thing for the Pink Ranger in my world too. Big whoop!”

She was starting to get pissed now at being the butt of their laughter.

“Lady,” Skull drawled. “This isn’t the Prime universe… Pigs fly here but no way in hell has Drakkon ever diddled Ranger Slayer…”

“You talk too much,” she decreed hotly, looking at the Red Sentry with contempt. “Get lost.”

Then she stared imperviously at Adam.

“And you… take me to my chambers. I’ve got an itch to scratch, and I’m bored playing these mind games!”

To her delight, this ‘Adam’ showed much promise when it came to pleasing her. If he was feigning being aroused by her bossy, bitchy demands, he was one amazing actor. Scorpina had been willing to sacrifice being in control in the bedroom if that’s what Lord Drakkon required, though it truly wasn’t her forte to be the submissive one in the dynamic.

Perching on the edge of the vanity’s plush stool, she spread her legs beneath the flowing skirt of her ballgown and pointed to the carpet immediately before her.

“You… power down or whatever it is you guys do here…”

She smiled dangerously.

“I’ve got something for you to taste…”

Scorpina spent a fair amount of time busting Adam’s balls, wearing the soft-spoken into a writhing, sweat-drenched shell before she decided the pitiful human could take no more. She orgasmed at least five times and, while it took the edge off, she wanted…

More.

Surely, a man of Drakkon’s immense power, bolstered with the Ranger strength and endurance of two coins, could finish her off…

Her panties were still soaking wet, clinging to every curve and crevice as she crept up the winding staircase to the tyrant’s private chambers. She hoped the aroma of her arousal would inspire the clueless Ranger as to where her desires truly lay tonight. With all that he’d accomplished, Drakkon couldn’t be as ridiculously boneheaded as his Prime counterpart.

Deciding between leather and lace for the rest of her ‘gift-wrapping’ had been difficult, but she ultimately decided that the tyrant must prefer leather. Scorpina could just…tell. She’d heard the wild stories of his theatrical fuckery and leather just fit.

Of course, she thought must of those tales had to be greatly exaggerated.

Lord Drakkon was a little…’off’ but he hadn’t behaved as nutty as she’d been led to believe.

Adam and Skull were clearly full of shit. She’d been utterly confused as to how they couldn’t answer a simple question.

Was there a Lady Drakkon?

She’d gotten something of an answer when her manicured fingers wrapped around the Black Sentry’s balls and gave a ‘friendly’ but authoritative squeeze.

He’d cried and wept and screamed something about a…trinket. And something about that loony territorial mutt. Then Adam had passed out in a puddle of sweat, piss, and cum to her growing frustration.

Quietly, she moved up the stone risers, her ears straining for any noise coming from above. The notes of a song echoed faintly to her ears, the delicate, yet yearning notes of ‘Swan Lake’. Reaching the shadowy entrance to the outer chamber, Scorpina’s bare feet made the barest of whispers on the emerald green rugs as she moved closer to the sitting area.

Reclining on a jacquard chaise lounge, Lord Drakkon was completely nude, the dancing flames from the fireplace highlighting his broad chest and toned abdomen. Powerful thighs were spread languidly, a thick, prominent erection dripping a clear fluid of anticipation.

He was watching something like a feline would watch a beautiful songbird hopping along the ground, waiting to pounce, to bite…

As she watched, Scorpina realized there was someone else in the room, their graceful body poised near the fireplace, back to her. Shiny black ribbon circled their ankles, feet standing en pointe in satin ballet shoes. Sheer dancer’s stockings covered the woman’s legs, a flowing black tulle spilling down from her waist. Diamonds dripped down the open back of the leotard, glittering like stars in the night sky as she moved.

A thick head of ebony ringlets brushed the ballerina’s shoulders, like an old pin-up movie star.

Drakkon was riveted by the woman’s graceful poses as she moved to the music, teasingly coming closer and closer as she leapt and twirled, the muscles of her legs and back bunching under…scarred skin??

Scorpina frowned.

“You excite me beyond reason, Trinket,” the tyrant groaned, a hand starting to reach for his shaft then resisting the urge. “How could you believe my head could be turned by another?”

Was this ‘Trinket’ Lady Drakkon?

Why didn’t Adam and Skull just SAY that? And what did that nutty mutt Red have to do with her?

Speaking of that spooky bastard, where was he? He clung to Drakkon like a second skin whenever he was in the same room.

The ballerina glided on pointed toe to where the evil Ranger lay. He reached for her with his large hands pulling her astride his waist to grind his cock between her silky thighs. Trinket rained kisses over his stubbly cheeks leaving behind bright red lipstick.

Scorpina observed that the dancer was rather tall and muscled but given the rigors of her chosen dance she would have to be strong.

It was when Trinket arched her back, allowing her lover to rove his lips down her neck and chest, that she caught sight of the gold collar and the facial hair.

Trinket was Red…

Drakkon was fucking Red…

Red was in essence ‘Lady Drakkon’…

Well, Scorpina wasn’t one to kink shame; she could play nasty with the best of them. This ‘Trinket’ roleplay wasn’t about to throw her off her game. It only meant that she needed to not only win over Lord Drakkon, but also that crazy canine.

‘He might believe he’s a dog, but a man’s a man…’ she erroneously told herself…still not getting the big picture. ‘I can play games too.’

And when the tyrant flipped his beautiful ballerina to his back, shoving the tulle aside and tearing the silky bodysuit to mount his lover, Scorpina made her move. Both Drakkon and Red were so blissed out…and inebriated on some exotic line of coke…that they didn’t initially register her appearance.

Until she lowered her wet, swollen cunt over ‘Trinket’s’ mouth, her own pressing harshly against Lord Drakkon’s did the pair realize they weren’t alone. Red was too stunned at first to even think about swatting at the intruder or biting her or…anything. Finally, he managed to emit several muffled shrieks of outrage and garbled threats as the bitch continued to ride his fucking face!

He’d never even entertained the idea of pleasuring a woman, though the subject certainly came up in his ‘research’.

Drakkon must have been stunned as well because he also didn’t speak or move for several moments, pausing mid-thrust in a way that aggravated ‘Trinket’ greatly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he finally demanded, Red’s incensed squalling continuing to float up from between her legs.

“You two looked like you were having fun,” she pouted, jutting out her lower lip but still rocking her hips over the ballerina’s mouth, so close to cumming again that she physically couldn’t stop.

Red seemed to sense it as well, feeling the rush of heat and the quivering of her muscles.

“Don’t you DARE!” he gasped angrily.

But it was too late.

The only reason she didn’t immediately lose her head was because Drakkon needed the information she possessed. It took all his self-control not to make an example out of her…

Hell, she’d just defiled his darling’s luscious mouth!

“Well, my dear…this is a PRIVATE party!”

[weshallc]

When is the Wedding?

Old Skool Turnadette.

Second of (which is now) three parts.

Thank you @fourteen-teacups and everyone who commented, reblogged or liked part one.

One O’clock

Shelagh returned to All Saints’ Church for the second time that day. Dr Turner had gone on his rounds and she had prepared lunch for Timothy and his grandmother. Marianne's mother had volunteered to keep the boy company while she and Patrick made their arrangements.

Granny Parker appeared to be as excited as her grandson about the forthcoming wedding. This had taken Shelagh by surprise at first, aware that her daughter had only passed away two years ago. But, the more she watched grandson and grandmother together, the more Shelagh began to realise that Timothy’s happiness was the older lady's main concern.

Mrs Parker had confided in her over Christmas that Shelagh believed to be a God send. She hadn't been convinced Patrick was coping as a single parent . Not wanting to come across as an interfering busty body, she had been summing up the courage to suggest to her son-in-law that Timothy go and live with her in Bexly Heath for a couple of years. Shelagh had been really shocked at this revelation and although she appreciated Mrs Parker’s concern and her willingness to help, she knew this would have hurt Patrick's feelings.

Shelagh had rarely seen him lose his temper, maybe occasionally with a negligent professional or an over officious board member. Only once on a personal level when the nursing staff refused Shelagh access to sit with Timothy because she was a day away from being his mother.

Mrs Parker was a warm and jovial woman, but she could see that Timothy didn’t just inherit his straightforwardness from his father's side. If Granny Parker misjudged her approach when raising her concerns and its solution, it could have damaged their relationship irrevocably.

These thoughts occupied Shelagh’s mind as she made her way through the transept and headed for the back of the church, retracing Patrick’s and her steps from earlier that day. She knocked on the large mahogany door of Reverend Raymond’s office.

The responding “Enter” brought a smile to Shelagh’s lips. How often had she heard that word from those lips over the last ten years? Although from behind a different door. She pushed the heavy barrier open.

“Shelagh, it’s so lovely to see you.” Sister Julienne was so impressed with herself for not throwing herself upon the young woman standing before her she released a rush of air which she disguised with a cough.

“Reverend Raymond said you’d be here this afternoon. I hope you will forgive my impromptu visit?” Shelagh rushed her greeting, alarmed that she hadn’t thought to telephone ahead.

The older woman was now by her side and had taken hold of her hand to reassure her friend.

“Reverend Raymond has been so generous in allowing me the use of his office, on an occasional basis, to complete Nonnatus paperwork and to store a lot of our documents in the crypt.”

Sister Julienne never changed, Shelagh thought, always thankful, always seeing God’s will in every hurdle that crossed her path.

“I also have full permission to make use of the kitchen. Would you like a cup of tea?” Shelagh’s protests of being a nuisance were soon silenced as her host explained she had been just about to allow herself a much desired break.

As a nun who had once wondered if she herself might one day be called on to run a convent, she admired the deftness of her mentor’s social skills and ability to put everyone around her at ease.

In the end, the church housekeeper had ushered the two women back into the office, perhaps not with the same social skills as Sister Julienne. She entered the office ten minutes later carrying a tray set with a fine bone china Royal Worcester Torquay tea set. A tea plate was full of raspberry jam tarts, which she informed her guests were the reverend’s favourites, but he could spare a couple.

As Sister Julienne played mother, sadness enveloped Shelagh; her own dramas had detached her slightly from the struggles her former colleagues were facing, as a result of being forced to abandon Nonnatus.

“I’m sorry to take up your time, Sister. I know this must be a difficult time for you, as us all, so many memories to be just ground into dust.”

“I can’t deny it has been a challenging time, but a building will be ground to dust. But, my memories and faith will remain very much intact. The order and our spirit are still very much alive.”

“Of course, Sister.” Shelagh took a sip of tea, wondering if it was the exact same teacup she had drank from that morning.

“But we mustn't dwell on the past. What of the future? May I enquire how did your first visit of the day to this office conclude?”

“Thank you for asking, Sister. Dr Turner and I are to be married the second week in February.”

“Splendid, the Lord dwells not in the old and decaying, but in the new and flourishing. One of many fresh starts I hope this year.”

As Shelagh helped herself to a tart, she wondered if they had been baked between visits or if the vicar actually didn’t like to share,

“So, when is the wedding?”

Forty minutes to two.

Talking to Sister Julienne always calmed her fears. Her steps were lighter, leaving the church and heading back to Timothy. She had been foolish to cut herself off from her friends, her family if she was truthful. She had been so thrilled to be forming a new family with Patrick and Timothy she had underestimated that change, even positive change, takes time and effort. She had found herself no longer a sister, yet not quite a Turner.

As traumatising Timothy’s illness and the consequences had been the blessing behind it had been the postponing of the wedding. It had given her and Patrick time to get to know each other a little better against the backdrop of tragedy rather than caught up in the nervous energy of a new romance.

It had also broadened her notions of what being a mother involved. In the sanatorium she had daydreamed of tucking the boy up in bed and helping him read. She’d wanted to draw with him and play the piano. She imagined sitting in the front row beside Patrick and applauding him in his school play.

That moment she was stranded behind the ward door looking helplessly on with the Matron’s words echoing around her head “You are not his mother” she’d known there and then that she wasn’t Timothy’s mother. The realisation had hit her that repeating her vows before God and wearing Patrick’s ring wouldn't miraculously make her fit for the role. It would be a title she would need to earn. She had a lot to learn.

A squeeze of her arm jolted Shelagh back to reality.

“Hello, you”

“Oh hello Trixie, how are you?” The young midwife was gingerly maintaining her balance on her bicycle, one foot planted on the pavement.

“Very cross with you. Chummy and I have been trying to arrange a time with you to design your wedding dress. If I didn't know better, I'd think you had been avoiding me.”

“My main concern these days is caring for young Timothy and encouraging him with his exercises, not on frivolous things such as gowns.” Shelagh knew she had overreacted. that her all too recent musings on motherhood had coloured her reply.

Trixie paused for a second, as if she was considering how to respond herself. As she studied Shelagh, she wondered what she saw; her confident colleague and superior or a neurotic woman, only slightly older than herself, but completely out of her depth.

The midwife hopped off her bike and leant it against the wall of the nearby Napoli. Taking hold of Shelagh’s arm once again, she pushed her through the Italian bistro’s door.

The warmth of the cafe complimented the welcome from behind the counter.

“Nurse Franklin. Lovely to see you again. Sit anywhere, you have avoided the rush.”

Shelagh sat opposite Trixie, filling a table for two next to an enormous mirror. It had been three months since Shelagh had looked at herself in the sanatorium mirror wearing her tired 1940s two piece, but the unexpected appearance of her reflection wrong footed her. She noticed Trixie gave her own image the briefest of glimpses and adjusted her hat in response.

A dark haired man in his twenties with a pristine white shirt and military ironed black trousers arrived at the table offering to take their coats. Trixie explained they would just be taking tea and a cannoli each. Shelagh wanted to protest that she could still taste the vicar’s Typhoo on her lips and had a raspberry seed wedged into one of her molars. The discomfort brought on by the mirror and the lack of familiarity in her surroundings somehow weakened her ability to protest.

The tea arrived swiftly in a large stainless steel teapot accompanied by two white pyrex turquoise band teacups and saucers. A matching tea plate with the Italian cream filled pastry followed.

Trixie ignored Shelagh’s raised hand towards the tea strainer she was flowing the hot amber liquid trough and filled her teacup to the rim.

“How long have we known each other?” Trixie had obviously come to a conclusion regarding the dilemma that appeared to have gripped her out doors. “You were the only one who saw through me almost ten years ago.” The bridge of Shelagh’s nose wrinkled in confusion. “You saw through my clipped, cut glass tones and my faultless sense of style and saw a nurse and a midwife and believed in me. I now can see through you, Sister Bernadette as was, you need to believe in yourself as a bride worthy of the man that adores you.”

Shelagh smiled affectionately at her friend and used the pastry fork to poke at her unprecedented third treat of the day.

“A little bird told me that you and Dr Turner had a very special appointment this morning.”

Shelagh decided it was only fair to relieve her animated companion's agitation.

“Yes, the wedding is booked for the second week in February.”

“That soon! Oh, we have so much work to do in such a short time.” Trixie dropped her fork and placed both hands on either side of her waist as if steadying herself.

“We do?” Exclaimed Shelagh.

Trixie frowned at the woman opposite, as if she was without reason.

“When is the wedding?”

[yourcoffeeguru]

PARAGON Fine Bone China Trinket Decorative Plate Rose Floral Design made ENGLAND || SWtradepost - ebay

[disproportionatelysculpting]

RUFESCENT

The thread of Destiny ain't red, It's drenched in blood. Fate isn't loved, it is carved with pain.

ADVIKA

'Why are you here?' her voice is icy cold, no hint of regret but shock. I wasn't supposed to witness this. She is sitting at the head of dining table looking at me with horrified look. From the same chair she hated the most, the chair her father sits on, or I should say used to sit on. I cannot believe this is her, wearing a pink silk lehnga, finely plated dupatta falling of her shoulder like waterfall and jeweled with finest craftmanship. My heart skipped a beat with her beauty but she looks caged beneath all of the fancy apparel. I wanted to caress her, she was like an angel, my best friend, my... but Who is she now? what could have happened... why are they all like this?

'Come sit, have some tea' she says simply, pointing to the empty seat as if there is nothing wrong. I watch across the table, the crown prince, Divy, is sitting on the other end just like any other normal day, but today is not normal, there is death surrounding this premise. I don't know what to do. This place is suffocating me. 'Advika, you alright?' he asks with a concerned look and I make my way and to take my seat beside him, the only clean, empty place left in this room. 'Yuvraj' I bow to pay my respect, and he nods. I take my seat and I look around but there is no server in the sight. An errie feeling surrounds the room, making it harder to breathe with each moment.

She walks up to us with a fine bone China kettle, with blue fine floral cravings on it and pour tea for us. Her hands stained with blood, still delicately wrapped around the ceramic, few of her bangles are missing, others are jingling as she moves. She puts the kettle down, with her fingers printed in red on it. 'I hope you like it' she says with a smile, the smile that used to make my heart flutter, today it made me fear her. I take in a gulp trying not to show that I am scared, it will break her heart if she knows that. 'wh-what happened here?' I look at her face as her smile fades into a straight line 'nothing' she takes a sip of tea, from her cup, the cup that has blood splattered on it. She puts the cup down, her lips have stained its edge 'I had my reasons, but you were not supposed to see this.'

My hands are shaking, how can she be so calm... there are 3 corpses of people we knew, dead and cold. 'Did you...' I close my eyes trying to not say the wrong thing, but I need to know 'did you... kill them?' 'It was food poisoning, a mistake.' Divy says without looking up. It wasn't and explanation, it was an order. He was not speaking as a friend, but as the person of authority. I feel sick in my stomach. 'why' I muttered 'WHY?' I shouted this time 'Dhriti. what happened'

DIVY

'It was food poisoning, a mistake.' It was the alibi we agreed on, me and Dhriti. But I couldn't look up to Advika as I said it. 'why' she muttered, 'WHY?' she jolted herself on her feet, pleading for truth. 'Tell me, what happened to make you do this? I want to be by your side I need to know' Dhriti stands up and walks towards her 'Adi...' she gives her a smile, a fake smile, a smile for hope to not ask her anything.

'This is me. This is my truth' she looks at the bodies, one of her father’s, the man of power and greed, my father's most loyal confidante, or so I thought. Other of my uncle, who pretended to be the most caring person in the world for me... and his son, my cousin, who tried to touch Dhriti with his perverted thoughts. And then at me, I smile at her giving her the courage she needs. 'I can't explain you anything more.' 'This is not you' Advika's voice is strong but her hands are trembling on edge of table, she is trying to hide it from Dhriti. I can do nothing but see my friends in this misery, Dhriti forced me to not say anything about why this happened. Things have complicated and there was no other way, she said she will handle it on own.

'You... why are you pushing me away? I-' ' Advika. Meet my fiancé, Divy.' Advika's hand stop shaking and loosen their grip. It seems like her world just shattered; I am the person who made her life crumble. I should have stopped Dhriti but I was late and powerless. ' You are joking right? right? Dhriti you cannot do this to me. Divy this is a prank, right? You guys are trying to make mood lighter, no?' 'it's not a joke Advika, I am sorry' I say and she falls back on the chair. Dhriti is standing still, calm and cold like a stone. She had changed, this is not the girl I knew, but so is everything. I don't know who to trust anymore and what's the truth, but Dhriti was right, they wanted me dead and they tried to ruin her life. We had no choice but to do this. A pact to carry this sin with us for sake of our lives.

ADVIKA

I feel like the whole world around me has turned upside down 'you can't do this to me' my voice is breaking; I don't care anymore she is my... my love... she cannot marry him. 'I did nothing to you' she says calmly, her voice that soothed me is breaking me more, why is she doing this to me. 'What about us? did it mean nothing?' My eyes are blurry, my tears might be falling but I can feel nothing. My insides are growing cold, I don't know what to expect anymore, her words are like thorns, pricking my body with each word. I know her she must have had her reasons but this... this is not acceptable to me... being left in dark like every time.

DHRITI

'This is not you' her voice is strong and sweet, but her words, they are full of confusion and pain, I hate me, I have to hurt her to keep her safe. She cannot be tainted with this side of world; this castle is not safe for her. She needs a simple happy life, far from this place royal politics. People here are filthy and disgusting she cannot be here. I have to hurt her. 'You... why are you pushing me away? I-' I am sorry Jaan ' Advika. Meet my fiancé, Divy.' I say and I bite my tongue wishing I could swallow my words back. I hit her in most vulnerable place, I am a monster. ' You are joking right? right? Dhriti you cannot do this to me. Divy this is a prank, right? You guys are trying to make mood lighter, no?' She is agitated, I made her like that. 'it's not a joke Advika, I am sorry' Divy says.

Life is unfair to us, we three are at a place that reeks of blood and suffering, we will have to walk the path of misery now.

'You can't do this to me' her voice is breaking, I nearly caressed her hairs but no, I have no right to comfort her with these bloody hands. 'I did nothing to you' I says calmly, trying to provoke her. 'What about us? did it mean nothing?' she is crying, my words are slicing her apart and I can feel the pain too but I... I have to hurt her. 'What us? there was nothing between us'. I am keeping up my voice cold and calm, I cannot let me be weak. Her eyes go wide listening to my words, she stands up face to face to me. Her kajal has traced her tears path. Her eyes are black like the Bindi on her forehead, her lips are trembling, the ones I kissed are now shaking because of me. Her hair is a mess flowing all over her shoulder and face, I wish I could to tuck them. She is wearing a yellow kurti, yellow... like her... she is embodiment of purity and love, she is made to be warm, not dark unlike me. She is staring at me, her eyes bleed pain. 'What did you just say?' she asks her sweet voice is now bitter, I made it like that. 'There was nothing between us.' She grabs my arms 'there was nothing?' 'no' 'then what about all those promises? you said you will never leave me, you will fight the world to be with me, that you... you loved... me... was it all lie?' 'Promises are made to break' I say with a smile. 'But- what about our love?' I close my eyes and take in a deep breathe. I wish the earth parts and swallows me before I say this.

ADVIKA

'Promises are made to break' she says with a smile. She always said she doesn't trust promises but she will try to keep them. She was right. 'But- what about our love?' I know what she is doing, she is trying to protect me by hurting me. And I want to be hurt too, hurt enough to hate her, hurt enough to leave her in misery alone. I want to hear how toxic she could get, how long can she keep her façade. Her eyes are closed, she takes a deep breathe 'I never loved you.' liar 'you were just a fling for me, just because we shared some moments doesn't make us important.' She removes my hands; her palm has been always calloused but it was rough today yet warm. ' Things have changed. I am the new lord of Ekaja province and you are the only alive niece of our empress, in the first line of heir for your Turvi clan now.' She tucks in a strand of my hair and I flinch on her touch 'You are a guest here, you came to learn how royal families work, soon you will turn into a fine skilled woman and return to become new ruler Turvi, along with your..' she takes in a gulp trying to lift off weight of her words, but what is the use anymore '..your husband or wife.' what is the point of that, that was her place.. not anyone else's? dreams are broken, words are said, I am hurt. She leans in and I take a step back. Her body stops like a shock just passed in her; a realization hit her. She gives a small smirk and leans in near my ears 'we were nothing, I never loved you princess Advika, you were just a distraction for me.' and she walks away standing in front of the portrait of her family. I want to trust her, trust everything she said now. My throat is in a chokehold, I want to scream, cry, yell at her to stop playing these mind games with me but the person in front of me, isn't the one who was mine.

Dhriti in front of me is cold, cruel, burning like coal seething rage and violence, with a dagger around her waist and cuts on her hands far away from the one I fell for, she was meek but in soft way, warm inside trying to become a good person always, stronger than any sin, whose touch felt careful, scared to break anything but this is not her, my love wouldn't have said such things to me, but its working, her wish to hurt me is working. She always knew what to say at right times. My eyes are burning from trying to hold back the tears, I turn to Divy, he is sitting still like a statue, his eyes are red. He looks up at me and a tear escape his eye, so does mine. He doesn't speak anything nor do I want to hear him out, he... he was here he did nothing… he let Dhriti become this. No matter she wouldn't have killed my father and brother without a valid reason, but what was it that she can't tell me. I know my family isn't best but what could have done for her to.. to kill them..

DHRITI

There is silence in room, I look at my family's portrait wondering where it all went wrong. If Maa never left us, if my brother and his wife didn't get killed in that accident, if my father never turned his sorrow into greed, maybe today I wouldn't have had blood on my hands, I would be playing with Advika's hair while she read me poetry, have duels with Divy and Manas, dance and sing with Bhabhi and cook with Maa and papa would be helping out by sitting there telling stories like we did 5 years ago... Everything changed that month. My world crashed and today I put end to all of my past misery to haunt me and for new ones to come. I sacrificed my love and life in the most barbarous way possible. The silence is broken with the jangles of her Payal, the familiar noise I always looked forward to. Advika. I am brought back to the room as she grabs and pushes me on the wall.

'Why did you do this?' her voice is full of anger, rage. why is she still here... why is she making me do this to her... 'I had my reasons' 'what reasons' she walks close to me, her eyes are red, it's making me weak. I look away from her face. 'You should go now, princess of Turvi.' she puts a hand on my waist and other on side of wall. 'Look at me. DHRITI.' my name sounds foreign coming from her mouth today, I look at her, her face is closer to me. Her lips are pink, she must have been biting them, her cheeks are red, from rage. This is the girl I love, who flinched on my touch moments ago now trying to reach my dagger to threaten me. Just to know the truth, I wish it wasn't complicated. No matter how much she loves me, she cannot live with me, I have her family's blood on my hands. 'This is a crime scene princess, you shouldn't be here.' she finally pulls out my dagger and puts it on my throat, I wonder if it’s from love, or hate, or just confusion. I let out a laugh, she is holding it wrong way, she barely learned weaponry. She lived in peace, until now... I ruined her. I hold her hand and move the dagger in right position. 'This is the right way meri j..' no, no, no. ‘...princess'

ADVIKA

She lets out a laugh, maybe it’s funny for her. I have a dagger on her throat and she laughed. Her laugh is still pure, warm, childlike. Her lips curve perfectly, I might have kissed her if things weren't how, it is now. She puts her hand on mine, I strengthen my grip around the dagger. She positioned them diagonally on the side of her neck. 'This is the right way meri j..’...’...princess'. She is still holding onto my hands, her skin is warm, or maybe it’s the blood that is dripping painting my hands red. 'TELL ME.' I shout, demand as I put the dagger but deep in her neck, but far enough to not leave a wound. 'go away princess' she shouts and there is thundering outside and I flinched again. 'I murdered your father your brother and my father. What can I say?' I pull back the dagger and step back. She is not going tell me, then let it be. As I backed away I saw a tiny glimpse of her persona slip away and hurt in her eyes, getting red.

DHRITI

She steps back, her face is calm, she is finally letting go of me... It hurts, my cuts hurt, my heart hurts, everything hurts now. She is accepting my silence; she won't chase me now... I pushed her away... I hurt her and I am in more pain now... I smile, smile because she will be free now, she will have her own peace and she will get a safe place, her kingdom of own. 'You are pathetic.' she says calmly looking towards the bodies. I deserve this. 'Congratulations for becoming the lord, becoming something, you hate. You are pathetic, pushing your love away, keep your secrets. I respect that but I thought you trusted me more than this' she is laughing now and wiping off her tears. She turns away to walk out of this room. I want to stop her, hug her and tell her everything, I want her to know I had no choice but do it this way. She reaches for the door and then walks back to me. I want to speak but I can't, I cannot beg her after everything I did. She holds my face and the tear I was holding on floods my eye, blurring my sight. She pulls my face and leans in for a kiss. This was not comforting, or warm. But a bitter cold kiss, a kiss of goodbye. She pulls away 'but I still trust you and I love you; I hope you remember that my... my... Dhriti.' and she walks off the room. I listen her payal fade away and my tears start to fall.

DIVY

Dhriti falls on floor as soon as Advika walks out. She is crying silently holding her chest, staining all her clothes with blood. I rush to her and hug her. She wraps me around her arms and starts wailing out loud, screaming her pain. All of her façade melts away with her tears and moments pass, the smell of blood grows stronger than the flowers in the room. I wish I could take their pains away.

We are sitting on the floor, she is still weeping in between. 'Thank you' she whispers, her voice is weak, unlike how she was earlier. 'I didn't knew Advika was coming back today' I say 'me neither, she wasn't supposed to see this bloodshed.' 'Why didn't you tell her the truth? Why did you asked me to be quite and then became the bad person for her?' 'What choice did I had? lie her or tell her truth and ask her to be with me? after this all. that her family and mine wanted to marry me off to that disgusting creature, or that they wanted to wage a war on us, or that I killed them to protect me and her and make her life hell, crown prince.' crown prince, a reminder for the weight I carry with this title. This is just the start of all the sacrifices we will make. 'So, what next?' 'We will let the rumours float that I killed them all for few days, then announce our... marriage... and irradicate the chances of rebel, you will take the throne and rule Nayantara, our empire for better.'

'I meant about you and Advika...' 'oh... I will let her go...' 'I can tell her everything, I will make sure she comes back.' 'don't, She knows that there is a reason, she will come back if she knows everything. But I cannot let her see me and remind her that I took her family away from her, whatever reason it be.' 'you are sure about all of this? leaving her, marrying me, sacrificing your life this way?' 'I killed them' she looks up 'there is no going back.' 'But you don't have to' 'I have no other reason left to be alive anymore, if I don't do this... I..' she is crying again, I rub her back. I wish Manas was here, he would know what to say... better than me.

'We will be fine.' 'Yeah, we will be' she wipes her hands on her lehnga and then her face with her dupatta and smiles. She has been so strong every time. even now after everything.

DHRITI

'We will be fine' 'yeah, we will be' I say, and ask him to tell Mr. Charan to manage cleaning of this place and to leave me alone for a while here.

We will be fine, we will be fine, we will be fine. fine. It's fine. I am falsely believing in the lie. I lost her, I have no family to go. I just have this dumb friend of mine I have to help until kingdom is stable and then... I can be lost in time. I wish this time passes soon. I am sorry, my love. I walk out of the room, the room where my love left, where I made graveyard for my happiness and birthed pain.. I am sorry. I drag myself out in the garden and it starts to rain, it washes over my clothes, blood and tears. I am crying again. I scared her, I am a monster for her, she flinched on my touch, she... won't love me anymore. 'I am sorry' I keep screaming out 'I am sorry', I am sorry'

'I am sorry, I am sorry'... and It's raining. This is my fate, craved out of flesh and pain. My destiny is red, not from love but made of blood.

[walkingshcdow]

@covrroucer | Blakeney & Chauvelin

Sir Percy Blakeney always preferred a bit of sparkle to his outfit, a pop of color, what, or else a fashionable cut. However, as everyone well knew, Sir Percy was in the north country hunting with a few of his closest and most glittering companions, until the next ball. The Scarlet Pimpernel, for as colorful as his name was, did not mind a suit of sable if it benefitted him this moonless night in Paris. Trouble was, of course, that horrid, little man, Chauvelin, would skulk about in his darkest blacks about this time of night, too. The Pimpernel already had everything he wanted from this trip. A family of aristos were well on their way to Calais and then, by way of the Daydream, to England. He’d read, committed to memory, and burned the map to the next set of prison cells. Now, he was not Sir Percy Blakeny nor was he The Scarlet Pimpernel. He was a man who wished to go unnoticed in the streets and then, once he arrived, in a local inn where he hoped to rest before tomorrow’s rendezvous.

However, for all the luck God could grant him as The Scarlet Pimpernel, He must have had a sense of humor for M. Chauvelin sat inside this very inn’s tavern. He did not have the smug look of a cat with a canary – in fact, he neither seemed to be waiting for or have noticed Percy at all. He instead had his little snuffbox out upon the table and the lack of cutlery and china indicated that if he waited for anything at all, it was supper. Percy wasted no time in finding the staff.

“I say, do you see that fellow over there?” he said to the woman who ran the establishment. “That’s Monsieur Chaumbertin of the Committee of Public Safety – a dear old friend of my wife’s. I pray you-“ Here he paused to pay her enough for not the cost of one meal, but two, with change left over for wine and obedience “-send his meal to him with compliments from Sir and Lady Blakeney and tell him a friend will be joining him soon. Whatever the house specialty is, I’ll have for myself, madame, but first might you direct me to whomever is making room arrangements?”

By the time the plates were set upon the table, Percy had changed into his own, creamy satins and an elaborate cravat. He had come in unnoticed, but he’d be demmed if he didn’t catch Chauvelin’s eye at least once. Not a scrap of evidence proved Sir Percy the Scarlet Pimpernel and the new, lacy handkerchief he carried, embroidered with his and Marguerite’s linking initials could only attest that his real business in France had been fashion and fashion alone.

“Chaumbetin!” he drawled lazily, sliding from personhood to persona as easily as breathing. Then, he slid into the chair opposite his rival and plucked up his knife at fork at his plate. “Odd’s fish, I do hope I haven’t kept you waiting long! It’s only every so often I have the privilege of shopping in your fine city. Really, it is a fine city if one looks past the blood and down to the bones of it! Marguerite will be sorry to know she missed seeing you here, though, but I certainly can’t take the wife shopping with me for her own presents, now, can I? I’d ask about your holiday shopping, but it seems your whole country has gone out and invented a new calendar! Such clever heads, the French… But enough of all that, how are you?”

The Scarlet Pimpernel could abide silence for his cause. Sir Percy, however, did not willfully endure silence or (worse) dull conversation. He hoped he left Chauvelin just dazed enough to be foxed and just foxed enough to say something that could begin a little tete-a-tete. (Such a delicious little phrase, and how very, very French!) As much as he loathed the man’s politics and as much as he despised him for all Chauvelin had forced poor Marguerite to endure, the animosity between them was complicated very much by the fact that Percy delighted in games with Chauvelin and further still complicated by the fact that, despite it all, Marguerite did not hate Chauvelin as much as anyone less than a saint would. She had abiding memories of a deep friendship and shared ideals that (despite what others might say) Percy also sympathized with. It was a tangled mess of a web. And, besides, it was very nearly Christmas. Peace on earth, good will to men, and all that had to mean something, even in France, perhaps most especially in France, where the values of the day were liberty, equality, and fraternity. La, what a silly world, where a country that purported such beliefs would make once spirited men, like Chauvelin dour, and do away with the one season Christendom actually bothered to agree with its principles!

[airyairyaucontraire]

I really want this china trio. I’m going to be near that shop on Saturday, maybe I can nab it then.

[how-masterful]

31 Fics of Fright

Day 17- Bones and All

Missy X Reader

Prompt: Skeleton

Notes: I swear I say I love this one every time, but this is one of the few ones where I instantly knew what I was going to write when I found out the prompt. It helps if you’ve read the Missy chronicles story ‘dismemberment’, but you can read this blind!

Warnings: None

The shovel gave another thunk as it plunged once more into the filthy grave dirt. You heaved, swinging the plate of metal at the soil with a grunt. Another chunk of the ground burst from its structure as you hauled the remnants over the edge of the grave. You’d been at this for hours now. You were surprised your arms hadn’t fallen off completely. The moon blazed down upon the cemetery, its fat glow illuminating the dark and casting its light upon every grave, monument and tombstone. Letters glimmered, etched into stone, the crisp grass breezing in the comforting Autumn wind.

You were about five feet deep into the grave, dirt decorating your body, sweat thick upon your top brow. Your hands had reddened from your grip upon the shovel, thankfully you’d remembered to pack your gloves. You’d shed your woollen knit, leaving you to face the brunt of the temperature in your vest and jeans. Luckily, the sheer heat of the physical labour kept the chill from your bones.

“Missy…” You wheezed, sinking the shovel back into the dirt, stepping on the edge with your filthy boots, aiding the sinking into the dirt. You looked up at the Timelady pitifully, trying your best attempt to mimic her trademark puppy dog expression. If you could fall for it every time, maybe she would too. It hadn’t worked yet, but there was a first time for everything.

“Don't you think… it’s your turn to dig?”

Missy paused, her hands stilling in the air as she held her fine China teacup in her grasp, pinkie finger poised and pointed to the west. Missy had laid out her fineries at the edge of your unsavoury excavation, a damask blanket sprawled across the grass, on which she perched as if having a day at the beach. She’d helped herself to a flask of tea, a packet of biscuits next to her saucer, her romance novel abandoned by her side, a bookmark slid between its pages. Her other book was currently somewhere in the graveyard, Missy having flung the novel in disgust when she found out the heroine didn’t in fact kill the comically photoshopped naked man on the cover. You only hoped, for the sake of her current book, the main character did in fact run off with the villainous sorceress. 

“Aw, deary.” Missy cooed, placing the cup down on its saucer and beckoning you with a finger to her side of the grave. 

You sighed, abandoning the shovel in its upright position. She inched closer to the edge of her blanket, reaching out her hand. On instinct you sank your chin into her palm, her thumb caressing the side of your mouth. In a swift motion she pulled her handkerchief from her top pocket, flourishing the intricate lace towards the sky, before tenderly dabbing the sweat from your brow. You relented, eyes fluttering shut as she mopped your forehead, throwing the embroidered cloth over her shoulder once she was done. Delicate fingers reached towards the packet of biscuits, and you opened your eyes to see her raising the treat to your lips. You opened wide, taking a bite as Missy pulled the rest of the treat from your lips.

“You’re doing so well, poppet. You’re most certainly nearly there. Wouldn’t want to spoil our precious progress with little old me hopping in there and driving the shovel, now would we?”

You shook your head, chewing as she elegantly pulled up the hem of her skirt, brandishing her Victorian laced heels.

“Besides, how ever would I dig in these babies?”

“I really hope these bones are worth it.” You grumbled, rolling back your shoulders.

“Oh trust me, there’s many more things I'd rather be doing.” Missy said, bushing back your stray hair.

“But those divorce lawyers are trixy, and they won’t rescind the marriage and let me at his fortune until they have all the parts of Bobo’s corpse as proof that he’s really dead.”

You huffed again, Missy watching you curiously. It was so painfully obvious how jealous you were of her temporary marriage, despite the fact she’d technically only been married for three minutes. Mrs Bobo Braithwaite indeed.

“And according to the Corn County Dentistry Office,” she said, glancing at the tombstone that loomed over the grave you were currently standing in. “This is the bastard that has his teeth.”

She was despicable. But you loved her so dearly. Finally bringing the teacup to your lips, she let you take a sip. Instantly, you felt refreshed. You wondered what on earth she’d put in that flask.

“There, now we’ve had a bitch and tea break, we can keep digging. You construction folk are all the same.”

You tilted your head, staring up at the Mistress expectantly. She smirked, before leaning down to place a kiss on your now dry forehead.

“So needy.” She teased, placing the rest of the biscuit in your mouth.

You reclaimed your shovel once more. With each dig you descended lower into the ground, and the dirt pile beside the gravesite grew into a dirt mountain. Missy had begun to revisit the novel, pouring herself a new cup of tea. You dug in silence for a further ten minutes, concentrating hard, the only sound being the hoot of distant owls, and the quiet sound of Missy’s humming as she read. The shovel sunk deep into earth time and time again, the monotonous routine sending you slightly insane.

“Skeletons aren’t that scary.” You rambled, hauling out the dirt.

“Everyone says ‘ooh, there's a skeleton inside you right now’ but realistically, you’re the brain. You’re inside the skeleton, not the other way around. You’re basically a squishy mass driving a flesh robot. What’s so scary about that?”

“Thank the gods this is the last one” Missy muttered, her attention suddenly stolen at the harsh clatter of metal against wood.

At the loud crack of the lid, you whipped your head to meet Missy’s face. You began to rapidly dig, the Timelady watching with anticipation as you unearthed the wooden coffin within the ground. You threw the shovel over the edge of the grave towards the dirt monument, Missy pulling a crowbar from the depths of her black wicker picnic basket. She was leaning over the edge, watching you pry open the lid of the box. 

With a puff of dust into the air, a tribe of moths escaping their confinement, you stared down at the corpse: It lay in the coffin, bones yellowed and dirt ridden, its teeth bulging out of its mouth, tethered down with thick metal screws. Missy finally hopped down into the six foot hole, presenting her scanner from her pocket and placing it upon the corpse's mouth. It whizzed and whirred, getting its reading, the pair of you holding your breath as you awaited the results. After an agonizing minute of processing, the screen lit up clear as day- 

DNA, BOBO BRAITHWAITE. 100% MATCH.

You smiled wide at the sight, Missy turning towards you with a devious grin.

“How do you feel about two weeks at the Catrigan Nova Spa and Resort, Sweet Face?” She preened, producing a pair of pliers in her spindly fingers.

“All inclusive?” You questioned, raising an excited eyebrow. Missy chuckled, placing the pliers in your awaiting hands and watching as you began to descend upon the skeleton’s teeth.

“As if I'd ever settle for less.”

[darkshrimpemotions]

"Some nights, if I'm sleeping on my own, I still dream about Whitethorn House. In the dream it's always spring, cool fine light with a late-afternoon haze. I climb the worn stone steps and knock on the door--that great brass knocker, going black with age and heavy enough to startle you every time--and an old woman with an apron and a deft, uncompromising face lets me in. Then she hangs the big rusted key back on her belt and walks away down the drive, under the falling cherry blossom, and I close the door behind her.

The house is always empty. The bedrooms are bare and bright, only my footsteps echoing off the floorboards, circling up through the sun and the dust motes to the high ceilings. Smell of wild hyacinths, drifting through the wide-open windows, and of beeswax polish. Chips of white paint flaking off the window sashes and a tendril of ivy swaying in over the sill. Wood doves, lazy somewhere outside.

In the sitting room the piano is open, wood glowing chestnut and almost too bright to look at in the bars of sun, the breeze stirring the yellowed sheet music like a finger. The table is laid ready for us, five settings the bone-china plates and the long-stemmed wineglasses, fresh-cut honeysuckle trailing from a crystal bowl--but the silverware has gone dim with tarnish and the heavy damask napkins are frilled with dust. Daniel's cigarette case lies by his place at the head of the table, open and empty except for a burnt-down match.

Somewhere in the house, faint as a fingernail-flick at the edge of my hearing, there are sounds: a scuffle, whispers. It almost stops my heart. The others aren't gone, I got it all wrong somehow. They are only hiding; they're still here, for ever and ever."

- The Likeness, Tana French