#she would do anything for a slice of cucumber

[dewwinchester]

next. | d.w.

request: @rustic-guitar-notes: "can u write a little cutesy piece basically about reader and dean living a very normal life and leaving hunting?? like they have a whole house together and sam visits sometimes and it’s all just soft and NORMAL."

synopsis: this is written as a sequel to done, however, it can also be read as a standalone fic.

pairing: dean winchester x female!reader

word count: 2.6k+

warnings: fluff - she/her pronouns used - no use of 'y/n' - a smidge of angst if you squint - a surprise Sam appearance - Eileen mention! - pet names used (sweetheart)

a/n: this took me FOREVER i'm so sorry!! but I hope this makes up for it <3333 (also eileen is blurry wife confirmed by me)

Why did cooking have to be so difficult?

The instructions stared up at you from your phone screen, mocking your efforts. You had no trouble following directions and were confident you had done everything perfectly. Yet, your kitchen was beginning to fill with smoke, and the burger patties on the stove—the patties you had spent hours putting together—were starting to fall apart and burn.

There was stuff everywhere. Herbs were all over the counter, white flour-handprints covered your shirt, and you were certain some of it was in your hair. Flecks of ground beef were on your tiled walls and floor (which, thankfully, your dog Miracle cleaned up right away). Salad ingredients littered your bench space, leaving you little to no room to move.

You were beginning to feel claustrophobic. This kitchen was a lot smaller than the one you were used to.

You were accustomed to the bunker, with its vast countertop space, where anything you needed was within arm's reach and easily spotted. Currently, what little kitchenware you had was hidden behind cabinet doors, and you were still getting used to the setup.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you felt your heart rate begin to accelerate. You felt stupid. All you wanted to do was make a nice meal, and cooking was simply reading and following instructions—why couldn't you just do that?

Just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, a shrill beeping rang through your house.

The smoke alarm.

Panicked, you fumbled to turn off the stove and wave away the smoke, desperately trying to silence the alarm before one of your nosy neighbours came knocking at the door. When the beeping finally stopped, you returned to the stove, sighing at the blackened mess that was left.

It didn't look too bad. You were sure that you could fix it simply by scraping off the burnt bits; no one would even know just how badly you messed everything up.

You decided to turn your attention to something that only an idiot could mess up—chopping. You were once quite skilled with a blade—a year ago you would have been using it for something entirely different, like chopping off the heads of vampires or other various creatures that went bump in the night. Today, however, you swapped a machete for a chef's knife. Most of your weapons were carefully packed away, with only a few small trinkets and books to remind you of your old life as a hunter.

You sliced lettuce, tomato, and cucumber, being sure to tuck your fingers away and allow the knife to rock against your knuckles, just like the professionals did on television.

You were so focused on perfecting your chopping technique that you barely noticed the sound of keys turning in the lock or the front door swinging open. The sound of footsteps behind you went unnoticed until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

Out of pure instinct, you spun around, knife gripped tightly in your hand as a surge of adrenaline washed over you. You raised the blade towards the potential assailant, holding it a breath's distance away from their neck, your knuckles turning white. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears and your breath hitched in your throat at the sudden movement. Your brain was telling you to strike, to move on the enemy before it was too late, but the gentle hand that curled around your wrist caused your defensive stance to falter.

“You gonna stab me, sweetheart?”

"Dean?" you breathed, immediately pulling the knife away from his throat. Your heart was still thundering away, but the buzz of energy in your system had subsided to a gentle hum. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Well, I thought I would come home early and surprise you," he said, taking the knife from your hand and placing it on the countertop. "I didn't think you were gonna Long-Kiss-Goodnight-me."

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, anxiety and embarrassment quickly replacing the adrenaline. “Old habits…”

Dean took you by the shoulder and pulled you toward him, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. He placed a firm kiss on the top of your head before resting his chin there. You melted into him and snaked your arms around his middle, feeling every worry melt away. He smelled like work: fuel, oil, and metal, and despite washing his hands copious times, there were still motor oil stains on his skin. Normally, the smell would have had you scrunching your nose up and ordering Dean into the shower, but for the first time, you couldn’t find yourself caring.

“How was work?” you asked, pulling back to look up at him. His hair was scruffy, the ends standing up in a hundred different directions. It was longer than Dean usually allowed it to get, but he told you he wanted to “experiment with the length” (you weren’t going to admit that the thought made you ever so slightly giddy).

"Pretty good," he replied, furrowing his brows for a moment as he wiped a patch of flour off your forehead with his thumb. "Some guy brought in an old Mustang. Got to—"

His eyes tore off you, looking towards the mess you left on the stove.

"What the hell—"

"Don't ask," you grumbled.

"What did you—what even—"

"I thought I said don't ask."

Dean picked the frypan up off the stove, inspecting the charred contents, and you felt like shrinking inside yourself. He looked over to the chopped ingredients on the counter before turning back to you.

"Dinner…?"

"I tried," you gave up. "I really did. I thought I would do something nice and surprise you, but apparently, I'm the world's worst cook."

Dean wasn't going to admit it, but you were right. You could make a mean bowl of cereal and a damn good cup of coffee, but when it came to toasting, baking, or frying, it usually ended with someone needing to get the fire extinguisher.

Your face fell into your hands—the tears were back, and you tried your best to hide them, but your shaky breaths immediately alerted Dean.

"Hey," he said with a light chuckle. He pulled you back towards him, one hand on your back, the other holding the back of your head. "It's all good."

"No it's not," you said, voice muffled by Dean's embrace. "I used to be good at something. Now I'm not good at anything."

"What d'you mean?"

"I used to be good at—at hunting. I used to wake up every day knowing exactly what to do and when. Now I can't even make a meal without messing up. At least you're good at something."

Dean nodded, fully understanding. It had been roughly six months since your last hunt, since you'd both hung up your hats and said goodbye to the life forever.

Surprisingly enough, Dean settled into your new life faster than you both had thought. He had gotten the mechanic job right off the bat and quickly fell into a routine. It was good for him. He had something to look forward to every day. He had new skills that he was able to put to use.

You, on the other hand, were finding things a little more difficult. You had no experience doing anything, making finding a job damn near impossible. You found yourself itching to check for the latest missing persons case or some kind of sign of the next apocalypse. You busied yourself by walking the dog, by cleaning the little house you rented in Kansas, by reading dozens of books.

Dean never pushed you. Instead, he let you adjust at your own pace.

Sure, there were still nights where one of you would wake up from a nightmare a sobbing, shaky mess, where visions of blood, death, and monsters flashed behind your eyelids. But you were always there for each other with comforting touches and words—you were each other's beacons of light when things began to grow dark again.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, hands moving to your shoulders. “You are gonna head out, grab a pizza from down the street. I am gonna stay here and tidy up.”

“But—”

“Then,” he continued, “We’re gonna settle in for the night. Couch. Beer. Movie.”

“Fine,” you sighed, a smile creeping back onto your lips.

Your car smelled like pizza as you pulled into the little cul-de-sac where your house was. Three boxes sat on your passenger seat, and you had to refrain from reaching over and snagging a piece before getting home. Dean would have your head if you started without him.

You passed several houses on your block that looked somewhat similar to your own before your little house came into view. It was smaller than the others, but it made up for it with a massive front and back yard. It had a brown roof, beige-yellow walls, and a wooden door. For most people, it wasn’t much to look at—many of the people who inspected it had turned their noses up and laughed at it.

It wasn’t much, but it was home.

Upon pulling into the driveway, you noticed another car parked on the side of the road up ahead. The sight of it brought a wide smile to your face.

Sam.

It had been days since you last saw him. After spending all day every day in the Winchesters’ pockets, you had felt strange not seeing Sam constantly. After everything, Sam had become one of your closest and dearest friends—he was like an older brother to you. He knew everything about you, and you knew everything about him. You could talk to each other freely without judgment—he just got you.

You quickly parked your car, grabbed the pizza boxes, and headed inside.

You could hear Sam and Dean before seeing them. After years of hunting, stakeouts, and sneaking around, you were surprised the brothers weren't a little more subtle. Six months ago, you would have assumed they were arguing about something, but as you approached the front door, you actually heard them laugh.

You pushed the door open and headed inside, immediately greeted by Miracle. He sniffed around your feet and tried his best to investigate the pizza boxes in your hand, his tail wagging profusely. Dean took the pizza boxes from your hands, shot you a wink, and took them into the kitchen. Miracle quickly turned his attention away from you and followed the smell of the pizza. Traitor.

"Hey, stranger," Sam said, standing at the end of the entryway, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

You threw your keys on the small bench near the front door and practically ran over to Sam, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. You had to stand on your tiptoes to reach him.

"This is a nice surprise! Long time no see," you said, pulling back to take a look at him. He looked well-rested—happy—and there was a glint in his eye that you couldn't quite put your finger on. "How's Eileen?"

"Good," he lowered his head, the look in his eye now spreading to the rest of his face. A smile crept across his lips, the kind that had your brows furrowing in interest. "Yeah, she's real good."

You made a mental note to ask about it later.

"Pizza's gettin' cold!" Dean called, which caused you and Sam to roll your eyes in unison.

After indulging in five slices of pizza and three beers, you were completely stuffed. The boys had spent at least forty-five minutes arguing over which movie to watch, so the film—which should have ended by now—had only just started playing on your TV. You teetered on the edge of post-meal drowsiness, your eyes drooping. You fought hard against it; you wanted to stay awake and catch up with Sam, to hear more about how domestic life was finally treating him.

You felt content in your surroundings, and the knowledge that both your boys were here safe made you feel warm. The couch beneath you was soft, and with your head resting in Dean's lap, you felt even more comfortable. His thumb rubbed against your shoulder in small circles, and the rhythm of his touch eventually sent you off to sleep entirely. You had lost the fight.

“She asleep?” Sam asked in a whisper, gesturing with a nod towards you.

Dean shifted ever so slightly and cast his eyes down to you before nodding. "She wouldn't stop askin' me to invite you over. Thought the surprise would keep her buzzed for hours."

Sam chuckled, "Y'know, she can invite me over whenever she wants?"

"Man, if she had it her way, you'd never leave."

Sam smiled, and the two sat in comfortable silence for a moment, until his eyes grew concerned. He sat forward and grabbed the TV remote, turning down the volume until the film playing was barely audible.

"How's she doing?" he asked.

Dean shrugged, "Can't tell. Sometimes she seems okay. Then… I don't know…"

"What do you mean?"

"Came home today and found her in the kitchen. She was freaking out about dinner—"

"She's never been the best cook."

"I know," Dean said, "but she started tellin' me she wasn't good at anythin' anymore."

Sam's brows furrowed, "It'll take her some time to adjust. I mean, we aren’t exactly the best examples of settling into the real world."

“I keep tellin’ her that, but I don’t think she believes me.”

At that moment, Sam wished for nothing more than for you to wake up. He wanted to tell you about the several times he’d attempted a normal life and failed, how the hunting life had an iron-grip hold on him for years until he finally felt the time was right to cut free. But he decided to leave it for another time. You looked too peaceful.

But he knew that you would be fine. You always were. Aside from his brother, you were one of the strongest people Sam knew.

"How're things going with you and Eileen?" Dean asked. "Honeymoon phase over yet?"

A smile tugged on Sam's lips, "Yeah… I uh—I guess it kinda is."

"Dude, already? What did you do?"

"Nothing," Sam defended. "We've just found a routine. Settled in…"

"And…?"

Sam's hands swiped down his face as he sat back on the couch with a huff. His foot bounced against the floor, his eyes drifting from his brother to you and then back again.

"I wanted to tell you guys together."

Confusion flashed across Dean’s face as he sat up, careful not to jostle you around too much. “Wanted to tell us what?”

Sam let out a breath, “Eileen’s pregnant.”

Silence fell over the lounge room—the only sound being that of the soft dialogue coming from the television. The confusion on Dean’s face slowly morphed into shock, then confusion again, before a grin broke out.

“Are you serious?”

Sam nodded.

“You’re—you’re serious?”

Sam chuckled, nodding again.

There was something about it that Dean couldn’t believe. His brother—his baby brother—was having his own baby. It felt like just yesterday that he was picking him up from Stanford. The man next to him was no longer that college kid; he was starting his own family.

The thought made Dean look down at you. He wondered what it would be like to do all of that with you. Sure, the two of you had spoken about it here and there—marriage, family, the whole nine—but it never really went any further than that.

Dean’s brows furrowed as he looked up from you and back to his brother.

“She’s gonna kill you if she finds out she missed this.”

Sam laughed quietly, which caused the corners of his eyes to crinkle. “Well then, how ‘bout I stay the night? I’ll tell you guys in the morning… Just—try to act surprised. For our sake.”

“Deal.”

[balsee]

Hear me out? What if reader gave Sanji an apron that says “Kiss The Chef” she got it as ‘a joke’ and now, any time he makes/cooks something for the crew he only puts it on just for her and asks for a kiss before he gives her a plate of food. 🤣

I HEAR YOU LOUD AND CLEAR! <33

It started as a joke.

It's nearly lunchtime on the Thousand Sunny, and you innocently make your way from your bedroom onto the deck, holding your purchase behind your back. The rest of your crew was so wrapped up in their own leisurely pleasures that you walk by them, completely unnoticed, and make a beeline for the kitchen. Upon entering, you see Sanji putting together a plate of finger sandwiches, and he doesn't even notice as you walk up to him; he's much too focused on putting little garnishes on the plate. (Cucumber roses, you notice. You could die on the spot it's so cute).

You clear your throat. "Sanji?"

He glances up from his work, and immediately breaks out into a grin. You'll never get over that, how easy it is for Sanji to smile at the sight of you. It's as if your mere presence alone was enough to make him happy, and while you were never the self-deprecating type, never did you think that you would have that sort of affect on someone.

"Yes, darling?" He asks, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Lunch is almost ready, but if you're hungry now, I can give you a small plate of fruit salad until it's time to eat."

You smile. "No, thank you, Sanji. Actually, I have something for you."

At this, Sanji blinks. "You do?"

"Yup!" you're starting to fidget, unable to tamper down a giddy, goofy smile, and he notices.

"What is it, love?" he asks with a laugh, and you bounce on the balls of your feet before you pull your hands from behind your back in a dramatic flourish.

It's a pink apron, with the words, "Kiss the Cook" in black cursive printed across the front; a red kiss mark replacing the dot of the letter 'i.' "Ta-da!" you sing, brandishing the apron. "Do you like it?"

Sanji seems at a loss for words, and whatever he's currently feeling, he manages to mask. "Where did you get this?"

"At that spring island we left yesterday," you explain. "I saw it in a window when I was shopping with Nami, and I thought it was perfect for you."

"F-for me?"

"Yes, silly, it's a gift!"

You're expecting Sanji to get embarrassed, or to take it in a way that clearly shows he's forcing himself to like it; but to your surprise, he positively melts.

"You got me a gift?" his voice is almost awed, and before you can say anything, he takes the apron from you. "Thank you, darling, really." You're a little taken aback, he's so sincere that you laugh.

"It was a joke, Sanji. A gag gift. I don't expect you to wear it."

"Of course I'm going to wear it!" he insists, and his usual lovesick enthusiasm comes back. "A beautiful, enchanting lady bought it for me! How could I deny such a heartfelt display from you?" and then to prove his point, he puts the apron on. "See? It's perfect."

***

You soon realize that the apron poses a problem. Sanji isn't embarrassed to be seen with it on, far from it, actually. But when Zoro made some crack about him being 'whipped' one evening in regards to the apron, Sanji had kicked him out of the kitchen after dinner was over, claiming that the "empty-headed, brain-dead" swordsman was too stupid to understand the importance of such a gift. And while you were happy Sanji ended up liking your little joke, a new problem starts to surface.

He'll put the apron on only for you, and tries to get a kiss.

"Y'know, for a simple kiss, I can sneak you another slice of cake." he said one night, when the dishes were cleaned and he was piping frosting along a pound cake.

"In your dreams, Sanji." you sing, and swipe a finger of icing before heading to the door.

He had tried several times after that, so sly and genuine that you almost felt bad for shooting him down. On his fourth attempt, he begs outright, completely and utterly shameless.

"Can't you see what you're doing to me, Mon coeur?" he asks, a steaming plate of paella in one hand yet to be given to you. "A kiss from you would mean the world to me, there's nothing else that would compare." he leans in ever so slightly, slightly pink-faced and pleading; there's a ruined look on his face that has your blood spiking dangerously. "What more do I have to do, sweet thing?"

You scrutinize him closely. Seconds tick by.

Sanji starts to compose himself, an easy smile on his face, as if he hadn't just made a fool of himself mere seconds ago, and his voice is soft. "Ah, don't worry, I'm just teasing. Perhaps another time--"

Before you can back out, you lean forward and kiss him, true and sweet. Time stops in a moment of pure perfection before it resumes. In a flash you pull away, but the soft feeling of his lips against yours remains. "There you go!" you smile at him, as cheerful as ever, and quickly take the paella from his hands before heading to the door. Normally, you don't eat food on the deck aside from sweets, but you want to hide your shaking hands and the incredible blush rising to your face.

As the door swings shut behind you, Sanji all but collapses onto the counter, and thinks that he's never been more grateful for a joke.

[thethirdromana]

Mem., get recipe for Mina: a food guide to Dracula Daily

Inspired by There and Snack Again (in which you eat along with the LOTR movies), this is your guide to eating and drinking along with Dracula Daily.

All under a cut because there's no way I can do this without extensive spoilers. I strongly recommend not reading this unless you already know what happens in Dracula. Also only if you're comfortable reading about alcoholic drinks - there's a lot of booze in this novel.

Let's eat!

2 May We start with the famous paprika hendl. Google "chicken paprikash" and choose whichever recipe most strikes your fancy.

3 May For breakfast, choose from mamaliga (cornmeal porridge, similar to grits), "impletata" (vânătă umplută - stuffed aubergine) or anything with more paprika in it.

4 May For dinner, Jonathan has robber steak: "bits of bacon, onion, and beef, seasoned with red pepper, and strung on sticks and roasted over the fire".

5 May Slivovitz, if you'd like it (Jonathan declines). Then, for dinner, Dracula serves up roast chicken, with some cheese, a salad and a glass or two of Tokaji wine.

6 May "A cold breakfast" for Jonathan. In Romania a cold breakfast might include boiled eggs, telemea (sheep's cheese), franzela (bread) with assorted spreads, sliced cucumber and tomatoes, and sunculita taraneasca (sliced smoked pork). Jonathan also has "an excellent supper", but doesn't tell us what that includes.

16 May Would it be too bleak if I suggested eating a symbolic Jelly Baby?

26 May A glass of wine as Quincey and Jack congratulate Arthur and drown their sorrows.

18 June There's a kind of Scottish fruit slice called "flies' graveyard". That might make a suitable snack given Renfield's meal today.

24 June I guess a gingerbread woman, for the wolves? IDK, it turns out doing this for a horror novel is a bit grim.

8 July Thankfully the internet has hundreds of ideas for spider-themed cakes so you can eat along with Renfield.

18 July The voyage of the Demeter begins! Celebrate by eating like a sailor: have some salt pork, or make ship's biscuit.

20 July Renfield has just eaten several sparrows. Provide redress by feeding birds near you, bird flu guidance permitting.

24 July Imitate the "feet-folk" from York and Leeds by drinking some tea or eating some cured herring.

10 August Lucy and Mina enjoy a "severe tea". There are lots of severe teas in Victorian literature, but few writers actually describe what's in it - e.g. the Churchman's shilling magazine, 1868, has a story with a severe tea "which implies coffee, tea, and muffins, with substantials". What are substantials? I have no idea, but that's what you should eat today.

11 August Dracula has a little nibble on Lucy. I don't suggest doing this for every vampire bite in the novel, but given this one is particularly significant, how about marking the occasion with some black pudding?

30 August No food details for a while, but in this entry, Lucy notes that she "has an appetite like a cormorant" and "Arthur says I am getting fat". Celebrate with some cake.

3 September Van Helsing has been! And surely he wouldn't have come all the way from the Netherlands empty-handed? Acknowledge his visit with some gouda or a stroopwafel.

4 September Eat some sugar, which Renfield has requested for his flies.

7 September To stay in line with what the characters actually eat and drink, have a glass of port (though ideally not if you've just given blood). But for the real spirit of the day, consider a corn-on-the-cob.

9 September Free space! Jack has "an excellent meal" but doesn't say what it is. Dig into your favourite dinner.

10 September A sip of brandy, with which Van Helsing wets Lucy's lips.

11 September The garlic flowers arrive. There's lots that you can make with wild garlic - personally, I like it in risotto.

17 September A boxful of garlic flowers arrive for Lucy every day. Time to make chicken with 40 cloves of garlic. Other options for today include more black pudding (in honour of Renfield lapping up Jack's blood) or sherry.

18 September The Zookeeper enjoys a teacake, and so shall we.

20 September No food, but the labourers have "a stiff glass of grog". This is rum diluted with water, but you could also add lemon or lime juice, sugar, and/or cinnamon.

25 September Nibble another Jelly Baby for the Bloofer Lady.

29 September A lot happens in this entry, but there's not a lot of food. There are thirsty labourers, however. Maybe have a beer?

30 September Mina makes everyone a pot of tea. Also, we don't know what they have for dinner, but they eat it at 7pm, if you'd like to time your evening meal accordingly.

1 October More tea! Since this is being gulped down by a working man, make it builder's style - strong, sweet, lots of milk.

2 October Jonathan visits the Aërated Bread Company. He only has a cup of tea, but you could have whatever you like best from their menu:

(source)

3 October Dracula forces Mina to drink his blood like "a child forcing a kitten's nose into a saucer of milk". You could either have some more black pudding, or drink a glass of milk in solidarity with Mina.

15 October The Crew of Light aren't focusing much on meals any more, but they have travelled on the Orient Express. Here's the 1887 dining car menu.

(source - I can't vouch for the accuracy of a random person on Twitter but it looks plausible)

29 October No one is thinking of food in this bit of the novel (though Mina makes yet more tea), but as they're heading to Romania, have some sarmale. These stuffed cabbage rolls are the Romanian national dish.

31 October Mina and Van Helsing have "a huge basket of provisions". Have a picnic in their honour, if it's warm enough where you are.

1 November Mina and Van Helsing have "hot soup" into which the local cooks have put an extra amount of garlic. Consider having a truly extra amount of garlic with this 44-garlic-clove soup.

7 November The Crew of Light return to Transylvania. No details of food, but in honour of their journey, I would suggest a final round of chicken paprikash, to bring us back to where it all began.

[rapz-rites]

Eat

Damian Wayne x Platonic!Reader

You would do anything to look like the girls in the magazines… But at what cost?

A/N: This was requested by Anon. I’m actually on the skinnier side so I hope I do this justice. But I totally understand what it feels like to be ashamed of your body size, shape, and weight. I did pull ŵ from a clip of Skins where this girl with an ED showed her friend how she gets away with it. I’m trying to get these out so I’m gonna do 2-3 short parts 😁

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning(s): Cursing, ED, body checking, calorie counting

You were “larger” than most of the girls in your school. You were fine with that for the most part, but there were times when you were insecure about it. Especially lately.

You are in the school’s cafeteria “eating” with Damian. To Damian, you were rambling on about God knows what while the two of you were eating. For the most part, you looked the same. However, at the same time, you seemed different, but Damian just couldn’t place his finger on it.

“Hey,” you said, bringing Damian out of his trance, his eyes meeting yours.

“Are you going to eat that?” you asked, pointing at his cup of cucumber slices. Once he shook his head no, you took the initiative of taking the cup and dumping it in your salad. “I love cucumbers in my salad. Don’t you?”

Damian didn’t know how to answer that. Now when the two of you are eating together, you seem to talk a lot more. He watched as you mixed the cucumbers in with the rest of the ingredients of your salad.

Then, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Damian watched as you stabbed your fork in the salad, taking a bite. Little did he know that was the only bite of food you had all lunch. You threw away your tray before Damian could see how little you ate.

This continued for a while. For an ex-assassin, you would think he would be more observant.

~

With your phone propped up on FaceTime using random stuff on your desk, you rummaged through your closet.

“Which outfit do you think is better?” You asked your best friend. You had an outfit in each hand. You knew which one looks better but you just wanted Damian to confirm it. You hoped you picked the one on the left. That outfit hides your figure the best, while also complimenting you.

“The left one obviously,” he said snarkily. He continued but you weren't paying attention to what he was saying. It wasn’t until he probably called your name 10 times you gave him your attention.

“Huh,” you muttered, turning your head to look at Damian through the screen.

“Were you not listening?” Damian huffed. This wasn’t like you. Usually in conversations, you hung to every word, but now it was as if you were on another planet.

“Sorry. What were you saying?” You asked. You were barely paying attention as you moved around your room.

“I asked if we are still going to that new ice cream shop this weekend,” Damian said. Stopping in your tracks, you looked at your phone to see Damian looking at you, waiting for an answer.

“Oh about that,” you started. “I actually don’t want to go anymore.”

Now Damian was confused.

“What? I’m confused. Your fat ass loves food. You never say no to food.”

You stop in your tracks hearing his words.

Fat ass…

Fat ass.

Fat…

Fat.

Fat!

FAT!

“I have to go,” you say. You swallow the lump in your throat as you hang up the phone on Damian, not allowing him to say anything else.

You started pacing back and forth as your mind raced with thoughts.

“Y/N! Mom said to come down for dinner!” Your sister called on the other side of your door. You lie saying you already ate and are not hungry.

~

You say right across from Damian, both looking at the menu. A waitress already came by your table to get your drinks and appetizer order. The entire time you couldn’t help but notice how slim and pretty she was, especially compared to you.

It wasn’t until Damian snapped his fingers in your face that you broke out of your trance of insecurity.

“Oh sorry,” you say slightly embarrassed. You order a water as your drink, which Damian found odd. You always got some type of lemonade drink when you two went out. He didn’t think too much of it as he ordered an appetizer for the two of you to share. You previously told him you wanted to start eating “healthier”.

As the both of you chatted you continued to look over the menu for your entree. You made a mental note of the lowest-calorie food in each category before making a decision. You were tempted to just pick the lowest calorie thing on the menu but you couldn’t risk making Damian suspicious of your new diet.

You start feeling sick at the sight of your food arriving. Your heart beats faster, your mouth starts drying, head spins. You pull yourself together, can’t have a breakdown now.

While attempting to do your signature eating-not-eating trick, you notice Damian paying a bit more attention to you. This caused you to eat more than you planned to.

After lunch, when Damian dropped you home you rushed in without even giving him a chance to say goodbye. You rush to your en suite bathroom. You pick a playlist and play it at max volume on a speaker.

“Y/N TURN IT DOWN!” Your sister yells, banging on the door, as you puke your lunch. A moment later the music stops. She yells a thank you through the door.

~

It’s been a week since you had lunch with Damian. It’s also been a week since you last ate a real meal, albeit you threw it up.

In Damian’s room, you’re both doing your homework (Damian is doing his homework while you scribble little nothings in your notebook while yapping).

“I’m going to get some water,” you declare as you start standing up. You run into Alfred who INSISTS on making you a snack. In the kitchen, you help Alfred put together a quick study break snack.

Back in the room, Damian was texting one of his classmates. He doesn’t entirely like him but he considers him one of the more tolerable students at GA.

Not Annoying Classmate: Hey Wayne 👋🏾

Do you have to do that worksheet for Ms Mijor?

Damian: No

I’m pretty sure Y/N does tho

Not Annoying Classmate: Can you ask her how she did it

I’m so confused 😭

Damian: She’s here now

I’ll check now and I’ll text you back

Not Annoying Classmate: Thanks 🙏🏾

At that moment. Damian decided to just go in your bag and get the worksheet himself. You've allowed him to before and never had a problem with it. While looking for the worksheet he finds something else.

“What’s this?” You hear Damian ask. You turn to see him holding a brochure and papers in hand.

Oh shit!

Taglist:

@devotedlyshadowytheorist

@firephoenix2020

IM BACK!!!!!

Sorry I’ve been gone for so long. Ik y’all missed me 😉

Also lmk if you ever want to get added to my Taglist!

[skellseerwriting]

Fab 5 Sleepover Headcanons!

Based on these headcanons by me

Tw for the color pur***

Every week or two they have a sleepover in Uliana’s dorm (she has the room to herself and has the biggest mattress)

Usually they start off with watching a cheesy classic movie on a projector

They make fun of the movie the whole time and will throw popcorn at it

secretly though, they really enjoy watching them

Whenever it’s a Friday Sleepover, Uliana will mock Bridget with a “we’re having a sleep over tonight and you’re not invited.” Because whenever she does, Bridget will bake treats for their sleepover (not because she wants to be invited, but because she wants them to have fun)

Uli will answer the door in her duck pjs to grab the tray of food with “You’re still not invited!” without so much as a “thanks” (in a strange way, that is her way of saying thanks)

While shoving a cupcake down her mouth, Uliana will ramble about Bridget: “she’s awful” *eats cupcake* “I hate her” *takes another bite* “Her baking is terrible” *mouth full of frosting* “Who’d ever like that loser”

They all tend to gossip, however it’s mostly Uli complaining about Bridget

Once she reaches a fuming point, the others will start Karaoke

I imagine it’s either cheesy love songs or emotional ones about heartbreak, then they move onto music they like to headbang too (think “Bring me to Life” by Evanescence)

They clamber all around the room like little gremlins, using hairbrushes and lamps as microphones and guitars

Stuff WILL get broken

I think everyone has a different kind of song they like to do solos for

Maleficent likes to sing stuff that’s slow and eery (though one song I can imagine her singing is W.I.T.C.H.)(she would listen to Billie Eillish if her music existed at the time)

Hades will choose heavy metal he can scream to (put example here)

Hook will either go with a sea shanty or like, dark romance(?)(I was thinking like Stalker’s Tango)

Morgie will choose upbeat pop I think (such as High School Musical songs like “I don’t dance”, which he’ll duet with Hook)

Uliana will sing anything that’ll let her show off her pipes, or make her feel powerful (such as “Everybody Loves me” and “You should see me in a crown”)

To relax a little after that, Maleficent and Morgie will help everyone with face masks and cucumber slices to get a patented 15 minutes of vocal silence and music

”This is stupid-“ “Zip” “who likes-“ “shUT”

after washing their masks off they officially begin skin care with Hook and Morgie at the helm, who try to take a whole hour

due to the others complaining it’s more like 30 minutes

Right after that everyone does each other’s nails (black, usually), and bust out the hair curlers

With curly hair, Maleficent looks majestic, Hook looks fabulous, Hades’ hair looks ridiculous down, Uli’s barely waves, and Morgie just reverts to Peder Lindell

When they try and get ready for bed, that’s when Morgie will start a pillow fight. It quickly turns into chaos and ends with everyone vs. Uliana because she gets 8 pillows with her tentacles (she’s too overpowered)

it’ll always end once Morgie crashes asleep from over-exhaustion. after that, they’ll roll him onto the circle bed in the center of the room

they all cuddle to sleep, so they’ve devised a method for it

Uliana is in the middle so those on the side of her can use blankets (Uli sleeps hot, so she doesn’t use them)

Morgie and Hades are by the edge to lessen the chance of Hades hitting someone in his sleep, and Morgie from making someone fall off the bed (so it’s usually himself falling off now when it happens)

Once everyone’s in place and holding their respective plushies, Uli will bring out her tentacles and rest them over the blankets (it feels like a weighted blanket)

Then, Maleficent uses her sleeping spell she developed to put everyone to sleep, so that they don’t move around too much (it’s hard to fit everybody on the bed) and also keeps Uliana’s tentacles from moving and knocking into people

Once it’s morning time, Hook and Mali wake up first and go to bring breakfast back for the others

Morgie and Hades don’t wake up until Uli starts stirring and her tentacles begin hitting them

Then they laze around until noon, helping each other pick out outfits for the day, talking about the fun they had last night, and ideas for the next sleepover

[lovelywoos]

my life, my seasons (teaser) | l.sm

genre: strangers to lovers, small town au, grumpy x sunshine; fluff, angst, comedy

↳ hometown cha cha cha x once upon a small town x summer strike inspired

pairings: gn!reader x lee seokmin, librarian!reader x handyman!seokmin

description: you're stuck in jeju for the summer having to run your grandma's library when you should be on vacation. things could not get worse. good thing lee seokmin, the man who you run into almost everyday, is there to make your summer a bit better.

word count estimation: 13k??

a/n - yes, dokyeom is inspired by hong dusik and yes, i love small town kdramas. anyways, please be patient as i hurriedly work on finishing and posting the final fic :') . comment or ask to be added to the tag list!

seokmin thinks he likes you.

he saw you practically every day. from then on, he wondered if he would ever have a bad day again as long as he saw you.

first, it was when he realized you would remember everything he said, all the small things, which was crazy because you couldn’t even remember what you had for dinner the day before.

it was a late night at the library. he had just finished tutoring his last student and you were closing the library.

seokmin had asked if you were hungry and you said no, only for you to be interrupted by the grumbling of your stomach saying otherwise. then that led to seokmin teasing you and you punching his shoulder, telling him to shut up.

so, he had ordered takeout to be delivered to the library for the both of you.

he had laid out all the side dishes for you as you unboxed the main dishes.

when you both finally sat down to eat, he has grabbed your chopsticks and split them for you, making you shy and then kick his foot gently under the table for mentioning your reaction.

what made him blush though was when he noticed you moved the dish of sliced cucumbers closer to you.

when he gave you a questioning look, you just shrugged, without even looking at him as you dug into the food, “you said you hate cucumbers.”

but it was definitely the time you were there for him when he felt the loneliest.

it was when mrs. park, the chinese restaurant owner, was a vendor at the summer festival in the next town over. she had called him when he happened to be with you.

the moment he ended the call and a cloudy look filled his eyes, you immediately picked up on it and asked what was wrong.

his words were brief. all he said was that mrs. park needed his help during a festival, but he declined, and mrs. park was not pleased.

you knew him well. you knew he hated disappointed the townspeople since it was his only job to fix their problems. but you also knew his trauma with crowded places, not that he knew you knew at the time.

so imagine his surprise when mrs. park texted him a blurry selfie the day of the festival and in that selfie was a beaming mrs. park and you in the background wearing an apron and hairnet with a dead look on your face.

“thank you for sending y/n in your place instead! she’s grumpy but a great worker!” she had texted.

seokmin had never asked you to go in his place.

a couple hours when he assumed you’d be home, he immediately called you.

“why’d you go in my place, y/n? i know you probably hated it the whole time,” he whined into the phone.

you laughed. and it comforted his soul. “why didn’t you tell me your fear of crowded places was real?”

his silence makes you sigh. “that day at the chinese restaurant with my friends, i accidentally overheard you and mrs. park talking about it. i didn’t mean to eavesdrop, i’m really sorry. and don’t feel bad for not doing something that you can’t do. it’s not your fault. if anything, let me do it.”

seokmin knows he likes you and he likes you so much that he doesn't know what to do about it.

[baddybaddyadardaddy]

Thinking about your response to the most recent eye-contact anon has me thinking… Adar would probably go a little insane in an environment where he wasn’t in a position to do anything or enact his usual behaviours of care/order.

Not sure if Mandos operates this way, but imagine:

Dinner? Made by someone else and served.

Dishes? Also taken care of.

Laundry? Don’t worry about it.

Some attendant tries to get Adar to sit down, put his feet up, get some cucumber slices on those eyes. Meanwhile he’s just internally screaming.

bahahahahaha yeah i think Adar would be COMPLETELY unnerved by... really anything that remotely feels like someone taking care of him in any way.

i feel like he's spent his ENTIRE existence just taking care of his kids, putting them first, providing for them. he's self-sufficient AF.

i could actually see (assuming Adar was allowed to leave Mandos) the Valar like, court-mandating him to spend time on Estë's little island to heal... and yeah, i feel like her maiar would take care of EVERYTHING and Adar would just be... bouncing off the walls.

And Estë NEVER loses her temper with anyone, but finally she just has to grab this poor uruk, shake him by the collar and tell him to PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF ERU, SIT DOWN AND DO A MUD MASK OR SOMETHING BECAUSE IT IS RELAXATION TIME ON THE ISLAND AND HE'S RUINING THE VIBE.

[lilly-chou-chou]

Skincare And Lifestyle Tips To Nourish Your Soul :-

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘

Hello, everyone!! I back at it again with brand new post! This time the topic we're going to dive into is skincare. Now I am a woman who has been doing skincare since she was practically 10 so it's been many many decades and what not, mind you I wasn't one of those sephora kids who are stupid enough to use retional at the age of 10 💀 my skincare back then consisted of just cleanser, toner, sum protecting lip balm and sunscreen.

Today I would like to give general skincare advice that is applicable for ALL skin types. Mind you if you have serious issues then do go to dermatologist because the tips I am giving today is to how to have better skin and very general stuff. Hope you guys like it!! <3 💕

Pre-Advice:-

Always know your skin type. This makes things way easier than people actually realize.

Don't always follow the trend because not everyone has similar skin and I doesn't matter ift hey claim to cure you so called problamatic spefic areas always ready the ingredients, be sure about it, consult with your doctor and then use it.

Patience patience patience. I cannot stress this enough, skincare takes time it may take 1 week or even whole 1 year to heal or to see the results. Don't go blaming products if you skip skincare or aren't using it properly. If you are getting rashes you aren't using correct products. If you have sensitive skin I highly suggest you to carefully select your products because anything can give you rashes or irritate your skin. Be careful and take care.

Step 1

Always make sure you know your skin, make sure you are 100% sure with what you want to tackle. The very first step of skincare and general wellbeing is knowing what you want to achieve, for example the sole reason I do skincare is to protect my skin and to make sure my body deserves better. There are many types of skincare routines, you are free to pick one and be dedicated to that.

My skincare consists ONLY of Korean and Japanese products, few of my favorite brands are suwalhsoo, innisfree, hadalabo and such. Skincare is an investment and I hate to say it but splurging on little expensive products REALLY DO make the difference and they do bring a lot of change. If you don't have the budget then I suggest buying trusted drugstore brands (I am kind of unfamiliar with them 😅) and stick to home remedies instead.

I am Asian and we are known to have thousands of home remedies that actually work. Some remedies that I use on daily basis are cucumber and rice water. For this you need to slice cucumber and soak them in rice water for 3-4hrs and put each slice on your face and let it sit for 20-25 mins and don't throw the starch rice water, you can use that in your hair after you shampoo and conditioner put that water in your scalp and massage it keep it for 10mins or so and wash it off for healthy hair, if you have black hair it looks so lustrous and shiny!!

Other remedy is using loose "wet" green tea leaves and mixing it with pure honey, now for this you need to use organic honey for best results. You can't just go and buy honey from grocery store, simply yuck! I suggest you go to organic market and splurge some on organic real honey. Mix those leaves and honey and put the paste on your lips and keep it for 10mins Or so and wash it off, you will get so nice, plumpy and soft lips.

If you don't wanna do all this work then you can simply use a really good lip balm, I used to use various types but in the end I realized that the lip balm they make for babies are the best because they are mild, made with baby safe ingredients so it's best for sensitive skin and it actually works. If you feel like you're too "grown up" to use baby lip balm then I highly suggest any dior lip balm, sure they are expensive but my lips have NEVER FELT SO PRETTY after using dior. Often times with luxury brands these makeup or skincare is either hit or miss but with dior oh! They ate!! It's so good!! You can also simply use innisfree green tea lip balm too, works wonders. Honestly just plain Vaseline also works wonders but choice is yours.

Step 2

Body! This is definitely a sensitive topic but fret not, it's not what you think. By this I mean what goes inside your body also plays a huge role in your skin and body, we need a balanced life by that I mean yea sure healthy greens and well balanced protein options are good but once in a while it's not bad to eat fast food, I absolutely hate how tiktok people say "chemicals" and refuse to use it like boo, everything is chemicals 💀 the only difference is good and bad chemicals. From toothpastes to even the gastric acid that is present inside our body is all chemicals, when will people learn this?

Few steps to have a nourished body are follows:-

Always drink probiotic drinks after you've had a heavy food at the END of the day. My favorite probiotic drink is yakult, it is best to drink at the end of the day because when you are at rest the good bacteria has great chance of working even more prominently.

This one goes out to all the people who can't live without spicy food. Yes, it's time to put down jalapeno, king chili, thai green chili, especially chili powders from India and give your stomach a rest for at least a day. This is a devastating news but I've had a lot of Indian friends who moved to white dominated country and their skin actually improved because food there is super bland and I'm talking full on painful pimples, acne and even healed stomach issues like ulcers, ALL GONE because of bland white people food 😭💀Yes, so you can definitely eat spicy food but don't overdo it in the name of "must have spicy food or I refuse to eat anything"

Please hydrate yourself, and I am sick of hearing "but water tastes bland, can I mix some juice powder?" Umm no?? If you hate the taste of water drink infused water. Some of my favorite infused water "recipes" are cucumber and lemon, blueberries, strawberry. But tbvh you MUST drink water as it is, even if you feel like it's bland, it's for your own good.

Step 3

Gossip, gossip, gossip. It might seem surprising but gossip does play a huge role in lifestyle. It is a factual thing that your skin and body reacts based on how you've been feeling and how you choose to surround yourself. It is true that bad person do have huge affect on your wellbeing...Especially skin, yes you heard that correctly, bad person do affect skin because when you interact with toxic people their ruin your mood, when your mood is ruined you are often faced with so called "negative" feelings like anger, stress and even anxiety. These things bubble up and have negative side affect on your skin and thus make you not only break out but also cause hair loss, headaches and even chronic fatigues.

People underestimate this so much it's crazy! You must remove all the toxic members in your life. If it's family member and you feel obligated then your next best option is to keep a distance or fight back. You deserve the best and surrounding yourself with genuinely nice people will be so wholesome and nourishing for not only your mental health but skin as well.

Toxic people DO ruin your skin and make you break out like hives! Even if it's a relationship, do find the strength to break up with your toxic partners.

So for now I have only done this much I hope you guys enjoyed this mini post. I had come back from this long hiatus yesterday and it took such a long time to do everything, and when I checked the suggestion post a lot of comments were deleted so I could only pull out this many skincare advices, so sorry for super late post and super long hiatus. See y'all in my next post!! 😭🙇🏻‍♀️🙏🏼

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘

[spectrechosts]

Treasure - Chapter 2

The second part of my dragon/thief story. This one has a doll in it, because I see a lot of dollposting and wanted to try it out.

Full Series

Vamni has gotten used to the continued refurbishment of her enclosure within the Endless Vault.

Maddy can swear up and down that it's not an enclosure, that she's just building a comfortable home for her- and you know what? Sure, it's at least a little true. The place is nice. What started as a pile of pillows has over months been given some walls, furnishings, magically supplied food and drink. It's comfy.

But dragons are dragons. It's a scaled-up dollhouse- open on one side so that you can look in at her. It's not bad or anything, that Maddy wants to put her in her hoard to be kept and admired forever- It's how she loves. She knows that.

Could stand to love a little more physically, but- ehh, this is nice.

She doesn't even have to sneak her way in anymore, that's how added to the hoard she is. Has a little amulet that takes her back to her spot from anywhere in the world. And then of course, a portstone in her makeshift home that takes her to any of a few major cities; because she's not supposed to walk around the rest of the hoard, because she allegedly disturbs the other exhibits whenever she does.

Guilty as charged, heh.

The most recent addition, discovered when she teleports in for a nice little jaunt around the treasure pile, is that of a personal maid.

"Greetings, Miss." It says, with a slight bow.

She's seen the maids around the hoard before; clockwork automatons more advanced than any she's ever seen elsewhere, carefully fitted with delicate plates of porcelain skin, all wrapped up in frilly little outfits.

They flit about the vault, keeping everything clean and orderly, pouting and stomping their little heels when they see her touching the collection; but they are, like her, on display. 'See here, the One-Hundred Dolls of Celestine Hallewell, the Clockwork Witch.' She imagines Maddy saying, in the same breath as 'Look now upon the only thief to have ever breached the Endless Vault and lived, who stole my very own heart.'

That last part she might not say out loud to other dragons. 's true though.

"Vamni's fine." She says to the maid, as she drops her pack and slumps into a large cushion.

"Miss assigned this one to this dwelling, and made it clear that the occupant was to also be considered this one's Miss." The maid says, picking her pack up after her. "Would Miss like any refreshments? Tea, perhaps?"

Vamni puts her hands behind her head. Well, she seems stuck with a maid now. May as well enjoy it.

"There's a collection of magic pitchers in the kitchen, one produces mead." She says airily. "Bring me some, and something to eat as well."

"Right away, Miss." The maid says, as she bows slightly once more and takes her leave, returning shortly afterward with a pint of mead and a plate of dainty-looking finger sandwiches filled with thinly sliced cucumber.

Not a pairing she would have thought of, but she supposes she did leave it up to her.

"So what's the deal here?" Vamni asks, gesturing with one of the sandwiches. "You just do my bidding?"

"This one is happy to serve Miss in any way it can, as long as that does not conflict with orders from this one's other Miss." Says the maid.

"Orders like?" Asks Vamni, over the rim of her mug.

"This one is not to allow Miss to roam the Endless Vault."

She scoffs.

"Oh?" She says, amused. "And you would, what, stop me?"

"Yes." The doll says, nodding.

"Ohh." Says Vamni. "That's interesting. Because I actually was thinking I might take a stroll right now."

"This one cannot allow that, Miss!" The maid cries petulantly, stomping her heel. "This one just said!"

"Oh no!" Vamni says smugly, edging towards the border of her enclosure. "I guess you're just gonna have to catch meeee~"

She gets one foot out of the house before the doll leaps after her, wrapping its arms around her torso to hold her back.

It is… feather light. Bafflingly so, considering how much metal it should contain. It barely restricts her movement at all. She breaks its grip easily- and after another step it's back on her, clinging for dear life.

"Alright-" Vamni grunts, adjusting the doll's grip on her. "With me then!"

"No!!!" The doll protests, as she's dragged along on Vamni's walk.

~

Maddy finds her, like she always does.

"Vamni." She rumbles. "You know I don't like you touching things."

"Listen, I tried to pry it off, it's persistent." Vamni says with a smirk, as if she hasn't decorated her arms with stolen gold bangles.

"This one is slowing her down, Miss!" The doll shouts from her back.

Madyssorth the Golden huffs exasperatedly. "You better not have damaged her, Vamni."

"This one is in perfect condition!"

"C'mon now, I'm not so unruly as to break your things. I just like to play with 'em."

The dragon visibly relaxes a bit, but still picks the two of them up once Vamni has returned the bangles to their rightful places. She returns them to her oversized dollhouse and takes a human form, joining them inside.

"You can play here." She grumbles, wrapping her arms around Vamni. "Make us some tea and sandwiches please." She asks the doll, who dutifully obeys.

"It's only fun to touch the treasures I'm not allowed to, Maddy." Vamni states matter-of-factly.

"Whyyyyyyy?" Whines the dragon, burying her face deeper into her.

"Truly, it is a mystery." Says Vamni, holding her close.

[shalomniscient]

OH! sevchino thought that i suddenly had. in one of the asks you mentioned that you’re from SEA (me too!) was wondering what arle’s reaction would be if she would to taste south east asian cuisine, would she like them or would she have certain preferences?

omg i love this question !! had to sit and think about this one for a while HAHA for my non SEAsian or even non-msian gamers and moots, i'll add footnotes to the bottom of this post for each dish/food :)) ok last note before we get into the ask, i'm msian myself, so my 'expertise' as it were is in msian dishes (or, the msian variety). SEA is not a monolith and i won't pretend to know every single SEA dish out there, so the dishes i describe in this post won't be reflective of the true breadth of SEA cuisine !! ok disclaimer over tq for listening to my ted talk 😌😌😌

for breakfast foods i am legally obligated to make her try nasi lemak at least once bcos c'mon now. if i don't plug nasi lemak to foreigners i feel like the govt will kick my door down and revoke my citizenship. i usually take mine with fried chicken BUT i feel like arle would like paru (lung) ?? don't ask me why i am operating simply on vibes LOL but aside from that i think she'd be an absolute fiend for kaya on toast which honestly ??? so sexy of her, kaya is so fucking good

main dishes are a little difficult, admittedly, because a lot of them do have a generous amount of spice if i'm comparing it to fontaninan/european standards. i feel like arle has okay-ish spice tolerance, so i think arle could sit down and enjoy a toned-down rendang or an asam pedas that's more asam (sour) than pedas (spicy). anything higher than that like a straight up sambal might destroy her tastebuds LOL unless it's the kind of sambal that's got a sweeter aftertaste, though EYE personally don't like that kind of sambal LMAO as for noodle dishes, can't go wrong with a good ol' laksa or bakso. these are generally not the most spicy (and you can choose the spice level for bakso) as far as i've encountered them, so it's another win for arle !! also char kuey teow !!!! i prefer the dry version over the wet version, but both are FIRE and so fucking good. it's also not the spiciest, like you can get kuey teow that is kinda mild, so arle would be able to handle it 👍👍👍

ok now that we've got main dishes aside it's time to get really into it and go right to the sweet stuff and BOY do we have sweet stuff... i dunno why but i feel like arle would most enjoy semperit ?? maybe because i think it's very similar in taste to what you can find in fontaine. there's also bahulu, which is functionally the same as a sponge cake, just a lot smaller, like cookie sized. moving on from the kuih though we got the heavy sugar hitters like ais batu campur and cendol. i don't think arle would actively seek either of these out, but she will indulge in them if EYE drag her ass out to the night market to get some 😌😌😌 also i would 100% get her to try bandung and honestly i feel like she might like it !! but in moderation, because god that thing is sweet asf 💀💀💀

ok i think i've written everything i got for now so i can cease my rambling sdhlsjdhlsjhd in conclusion i feel like arle would gravitate more to the sweet foods than the spicy foods, but she can sit down and appreciate the spicy stuff once in a while !! in any case, thank u for the ask anonnie !! i think i got a little carried away but this was fun :))

nasi lemak - rice cooked in coconut milk and usually served with deep fried peanuts and anchovies, sambal, fried or boiled egg, and sliced cucumbers. can also be eaten with fried chicken or rendang.

paru - fried beef lung. personally not a fan, but it's usually eaten as a side dish to accompany nasi lemak.

kaya - a spread kind of like jam made from coconut milk, eggs, sugar and pandan leaves.

rendang - slow cooked and braised meat in coconut milk, seasoned with a metric fuckton of herbs and spices. my personal favourite is beef rendang, though it comes in chicken and lamb variations also.

asam pedas - a stew dish that involves fish cooked in with tamarind (asam) juice and assorted spices. usually will also have okra/lady's finger and/or eggplants added in as vegetables.

sambal - spicy chili paste, though some variations make it a little sweeter. sambal has a bunch of different versions, but my personal favorite is sambal belacan, which is sambal made with fermented shrimp paste (it's so fuckign good................ belacan my beloved)

laksa - sour-spicy noodle dish served in broth that contains coconut milk and/or tamarind, with chicken or prawn as toppings.

char kuey teow - stir fried rice noodles, usually prepared with lard but pork-free variations also exist. fried with cockles and prawns, but sometimes also with chicken or beef.

bakso - beef broth noodle soup with meatballs but SEAsian style 😎😎😎

semperit - a kind of crumbly custard cookie

bahulu - small cookie-sized sponge cakes

ais batu campur - shaved ice with red beans, syrup, condensed milk, evaporated milk, cendol, corn and agar-agar cubes. you can also add other stuff but iirc this is the typical combo. colloquially known as ABC.

cendol - shaved ice with green pandan-flavored jelly, coconut milk and palm sugar.

bandung - rose syrup mixed with evaporated milk and/or condensed milk

[buggyboba]

Surrender Your Mind

part one [ x ] part three [x] AO3 [ x ]

Part two | Fasten Her Tether Unto Me

A/N | Hello! Thank you everyone for your positive feedback on part one! I am a newish fan fiction writer, and I have zero clue what I am doing, but we are faking it until we make it! I will set up a masterlist (no pun intended) and a tag list. As of right now, I will try to update this story every Wednesday. In this chapter/part, I went for a different tone, so I hope you all still enjoy it. As always, Thank you, and if you have any prompts or questions please feel free to send them in, I would love to fulfill some prompts and drabble.

Also look at me pulling from book media…~ Buggy.

TW |  A bit of choking, but not in a sexy way, but maybe…lots of pet names, Pet, Puppy, Kitten, descriptions of violence. Missy is still a dick.

Word count | 6315

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The steady hum became a constant companion; the machine felt alive; even when you couldn’t hear the hum, you felt the low vibration. It felt like it was watching you; it could see your every movement, and you could have sworn it locked you out of certain places as you carefully explored them. The woman, The Mistress, as you still had yet to actually call her that in conversation, had so graciously, as she put it, allowed you to stay there to be safe. She had kidnapped you, and every time you had tried to leave over the past week, she was always there, stopping you, or her machine wouldn’t open the door. You had gotten decent at picking out her footsteps and would make yourself scarce. She hadn’t actively tried to interact with you, save for stopping you from leaving, and the one time you accidentally ran into her when you were exploring, that was a few days ago.

Tonight, however, You had thought it was clear. You hadn’t heard her in a while, so you had dared to slip into a room whose door had been locked prior. You couldn’t pass up the opportunity; maybe it was a way out; it wasn’t like the woman had actively threatened your life, but you weren’t a fan of being captive, especially with a stranger who refused to explain anything to you, one who you felt so strange around, your mind still foggy when you looked at her when you caught glimpses of her as she worked on something. The room you entered smelled of a fireplace, it looked like it could be a study, but you weren’t sure. The warmth of the fire in the brick fireplace warmed the area, it was a small comfort given that the rest of the ship was so bloody cold. There were books lining the shelves, there were mounted creature heads above the fireplace, and from what you could see, there seemed to be artifacts, weapons, and specific books in glass cases; this felt more like a hunter’s lounge than a study. There was a faint smell of cigars, but it was so faint that you figured no one had been smoking them recently. 

As you walked into the room a little more, you looked at the chair facing the fireplace. On the side table, there was a small tumbler of amber liquid, a plate of half-eaten cucumber slices, some sort of orange-colored jam, and clotted cream. Oh, no, you had to leave. You turned and walked straight into her chest. She caught your arms so you wouldn’t fall back. She looked down at you with a smile that couldn’t quite make up its mind if it wanted to be a smile. 

“So I have finally caught my little mouse.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, causing you to shiver. “Have you enjoyed poking around my private room?” She asked in a tone that was dangerous, almost daring you to answer. Her hands tightened a bit on your arms before she let you go, walking towards the chair. “I’ve had a long day,” she started.

You wondered what she did all day; you hadn’t seen her or heard her. You watched her unceremoniously flop into the large, high-backed armchair in front of the fireplace. You stood there silently, you could slip out of the room quietly. You could return to the guest room she had given you and stay hidden as long as you could. 

“Go on, ask about it.” Her voice sounded from the chair as she grabbed the little tumbler, holding it between three delicate fingers and pulling it up to her lips. Her lipstick made a smudge on the glass as she took the liquid into her mouth, setting the cup back down. Her fingertips grazed the glass as she pulled her hand back and swallowed the sip she had taken before she turned her face slightly, watching you out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t be rude, and just stand there silently.” Her lips twitched into a half-smirk. 

You awkwardly forced yourself to walk closer; you gave the chair a wide distance as you stepped around the right side of it. “Why was your day long?” you asked, watching her carefully. 

She was silent as she picked up a slice of cucumber, putting a small dollop of the jam on it, and then another small dollop of the clotted cream. She popped the whole thing in her mouth, chewing, before letting her tongue dart to the corner of her lips, where some cream had escaped. You looked away and down, waiting for her to answer, your arms wrapped around yourself a bit, before you forced your gaze back onto her. 

“Do you want some?” she asked, motioning to the treat she had been eating. You shook your head. “Have you eaten since you got here? Well, you must have; your body doesn’t seem to be deteriorating.” She said as she eyed you over. “Eat,” she said more firmly. You shifted again and moved to carefully take one of the cucumber slices, putting it in your mouth. You had been able to sneak to the kitchen and had been eating, but you weren’t going to make her mad by not taking what she offered.

“So, why was your day long?” You tried to ask again, taking another cucumber slice, this time adding a little bit of the jam, and you were surprised it was apricot jam. The surprised look you gave seemed to have prompted her.

“It’s from The Scoundrel’s Club, a very prestigious member’s club. Well, that was until they so rudely threw me out since I was no longer a man. Silly of them, really. I held a chair there for countless years. Shame what I had to do to them for their disrespect,” she muttered a bit. 

“The Scoundrel’s Club?” you asked carefully. She nodded, but didn’t elaborate on it. You also had questions about her other statement, but really, you didn't have any reason to ask about it. You sighed and looked for a seat; there was only the stool to the armchair, so you sat on that in front of her. “Alright then, what did you do to them?” You asked, and your gut told you that was the wrong question because there was this sort of delighted, almost off-putting grin that took her lips. You immediately regretted your decision to ask. 

There was a moment of silence as she seemed to be getting the details of her story in order. Taking another sip of the liquid in the tumbler, you could only guess it was some sort of sipping whiskey, which you weren’t expecting, but then again, you knew nothing about this woman. 

“Well, you see, as one of the longest-standing members of the club, it was very rude of them to cast me out, so I ruined one’s life, then collapsed the bridge he was on; one had a nasty accident with a train; you should have seen the splatter.” She smirked softly, imitating a sort of splatter sound, flexing her hand to imitate a 'splatter’. You grimaced, not wanting to think about what she had said. “Little bitty bits of Bobo Braithwaite all over the English countryside, ironic because it was his railroad.” The woman giggled a bit. You shivered, trying not to vividly imagine it. You didn’t know whoever that man was, but you almost felt bad.

"Oh, don’t feel bad; these were all terrible people, so in a way, my revenge was for the better.” She made a face and then shook her head, continuing speaking before you could voice your opinion on it. “Then I —” She started to continue and looked back at you with a frown. “Are you not enjoying my story? You look pale, pet.” She let her face drop in expression as she watched you.

“I mean, is this why you had a long day?” You asked calmly, trying not to look at her, making it a point to look at your hands that sat in your lap as you listened to her. This woman spoke of murder like it was a normal Tuesday, as if it were a jaunty walk around the park. You were stressed and nervous, and yet the only thing she really had done to you was kidnap you and make vague threats.

“Oh, no, but it was a valuable lesson about being rude... and what I would do to people I know versus a stranger like you if you continue to be rude and keep avoiding me...in my own tardis...rather rude indeed.” She said, gauging your reaction. 

“Tardis?” you asked. 

"Oh, for...” she sounded annoyed. “Yes, the machine we are in... Tardis, Time and Relative Dimension in Space, you have figured out now that I am not of Earth, yes?” She raised an eyebrow, and you nodded. "I know you silly little apes are stupid, but I have to assume you are at least a little clever...or you would be dreadfully boring." 

You made a face at her insult. 

“You have two heartbeats and are like, so cold when you touch me, and all of this...” You motioned around yourself. “It is too insane to be worldly.” You sighed. “So, yes, I figured you weren’t human.” You said you were trying to sound calm, and you looked at her again. You weren't entirely set on aliens as the story, but everything was too weird to be just your run-of-the-mill normal human activities. 

“You are correct; I am superior to you, little primitive apes….I am a Time Lady.” She said like that meant anything to you. You nodded a bit, waiting to see if she would explain, but given her piss-poor explanations so far, you didn’t expect it. “I am the most dangerous being in the universe.” She nodded and grinned a bit at you, You weren’t sure you liked that either. “And unfortunately for you, I still haven’t figured out why they targeted you to get to me.” She said her expression changed as her cold eyes bore into yours like she was searching for something—anything that would give her a clue as to who you were, why the assassin blew up your flat, and why she didn’t want to immediately kill you. Logically, she should kill you and take away whatever leverage these assassins thought they had on her. However, her curiosity about why they thought you were leveraged over her got the better of her. She decided if she didn't figure it out soon, she would just throw you into the time vortex or something and be done with you, but for now, the situation was intriguing enough to keep her attention. Well, keep the little spots between her plans interesting enough anyway. 

“Delightful.” You muttered a bit and shifted on the stool. “So what is a Time Lady?” you tried; maybe if you asked specific questions, you might be able to get some sort of semblance of what is happening. “And why does that make you superior?” It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. 

The woman scoffed and shook her head. “I don't have the time to explain the complexity of being the elite of Gallifreyan society, especially to you.” She waved you off. 

"Okay, that sounds fake.” you shrugged. “Time Lady, ridiculous title, ‘elite of Galli...Gallif’..” 

“Gallifreyan….” She repeated it calmly, like you were a child. “If you are going to try to be insulting, at least know the words you are saying.” She drawled.

You crossed your arms across your chest and sighed as you rolled your eyes. “Elites of Gallifreyan society... It sounds like you are trying to convince me that you are supposed to be important. You said your tone was trying to be teasing, but you weren’t sure how she would take it. “But it also holds the same gravity as a celebrity thinking they are important just because they are Hollywood elite.” You muttered. “Pretentious,” you sighed, but you felt the air shift before you saw her move. 

You yelped as you were dragged off the footstool forward by your shirt collar. Her face was close to yours as she moved her fingers around your throat. “Did you not learn anything from my tale of being rude? Do I have to show you or teach you a lesson? You have been nothing but an annoying little mouse plaguing my tardis. I saved your life, and you are being an annoying little brat, speaking out of turn, with much more confidence than someone like you should have.” She said her fingers flexed around your throat as she spoke, your back against the footstool as she held you down with surprising strength. 

You choked out, your hands going to her arm, one by her wrist and the other up on her forearm, trying to pry her fingers off your throat. There was a predatory glint in her blue eyes as she kept you pinned, ensuring you made eye contact with her as you struggled to breathe. Your cheeks turned red from how she held your throat; just enough air was able to get to your lungs to keep you conscious, though your body struggled and your lungs started to hurt. “I'm not going to let you go until you...” She seemed to pause in thought. “Say something nice.” She said it in a light tone, like she wasn't choking you. 

Something nice? What sort of something nice did she want? Your mind was getting foggy; you were getting dizzy from the struggle of trying to intake air and panicking, and now she wanted you to say something nice.

“Come on, then, say something nice.” She said it more impatiently. 

“You're scary and pretty.” You stammer out quickly, your fingers prying harder. 

“Is that the best you've got—scary and pretty? That's not very nice, and you know what, pet, address me properly.” She said, pushing your back further over the footstool, your spine digging into the wood of it, sending pain through you. Your eyes darted around, looking for anything. Landing on the fire, you grimaced, and your jaw clenched a bit as you gritted your teeth. “You are like fire!” You started to panic. “Mistress, you are like fire—burning, intense, chaotic, but beautiful—a force to be reckoned with.”You tried to sound poetic; perhaps if you weren’t at the hands of a dangerous psychopath, you could string your words together better and maybe sound like you knew how to flatter someone. However, the word ‘Mistress’ still felt weird on your tongue. 

Her hand pushed you hard before it was off your throat, leaving you a panting mess clinging to the footstool beneath you. Your hand held your throat, rubbing it as you took some heavy breaths in. "Better, I suppose; I'll expect something better next time,” she muttered, watching you as she crossed one leg over the other as she leaned back in the chair. “Now don't be rude again.” She warned. “Or I will end your pathetic little existence; really, you humans have such a short lifespan, and it would be a shame to cut yours shorter because you don't know your place.” She sighed and shook her head. 

The only thing you could do was look at her with a mix of emotions before nodding. “You can make it up to me; you will join me for tea tomorrow, and we will talk more then. Go on off, you pop.” She waved you off. You scrambled to your feet and quickly raced to get out of the room. 

Your hurried footfall caused the dark metal hallway to echo as you navigated it back to the room you were staying in. You closed the door behind you, slid down it, and let your hand rest on your throat, rubbing it still. Your mind was racing; there was so much happening, and you still didn't have any answers. After what felt like forever, you pulled yourself up and dragged yourself to the bed; it wasn't nearly as comfortable as your own bed, but being as you no longer had a bed and were trapped here with The Mistress, it would have to do. You lay down, burying yourself under the covers; your lower back stung, and you knew a bruise was forming. You curled into yourself, trying to relax, but your body was on high alert, listening for the sounds of her footsteps. 

Eventually, your body ebbed into sleep, and you dreamt of many things—things you couldn't quite remember when you woke up—but your body was warm and flush, so it couldn't have been nothing, and she-- the thought of her brought you an even more confusing feeling. You had tea with her today, an invitation you were not allowed to break. You sat up from the bed and were startled when there was a neat pile of clean clothing sitting on the dresser with a note. She had been here. When you were sleeping? How did your body not wake you up? 

You carefully got off the bed and went to check out the note and clothing. The note was in perfect script, black ink spelled out, ‘Get cleaned up and dressed; meet me in the study for tea. -M.’ 

Your fingers trailed over the soft material, it was black and looked formfitted—not exactly your style, but it was clean, and you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to get cleaned up properly with a fresh set of clothing. You grabbed the clothing and slipped out of the bedroom. You knew the way to the restroom, you had found it the first night you were there. The bathroom was large and marble, and the shower portion of it had one of those waterfall-style showers. You moved to turn the water on, pushing it to hot but not scalding. You moved to take your clothing off by the sink, finding a bag of toiletries had been set out for you. You assumed she had done it last night. You grabbed it and looked through it, pulling the items you needed out and giving them a quick sniff. They were fancy and smelled so good, You were quickly excited for this shower. Slipping in, you let the warm water wash over you. 

The warmth was a quick comfort as your body relaxed, You stood there for a few moments, silent and reflecting, This had been an absolutely bonkers experience. If you weren’t so sure you were actively alive, you would have assumed you died when the flat exploded, and this was whatever happened after you died. Aliens, Assassins, Time Lords, and Tardises—this was all so much to take in. You felt numb, how were you going to get out of this? You were a prisoner on an alien ship, one that felt like it only tolerated you, much like its owner. 

You worked the shampoo into your hair, as you thought, the smell was nice and assaulted your senses in the best sort of way. The Mistress did know how to pick scents, it seemed, because you were in love with the smell of the soaps she had given you to bathe with. It could be worse; everything so far—what happened last night hadn’t been so bad. Scary and very much uncalled for, but from her stories, that had been nothing.

You just wished you could help figure out what these Assassins wanted with you, you had no idea why they had targeted you, honestly, you weren’t someone important—well, not in the grand scheme of the universe after all. 

You got to thinking as you washed up, maybe the assassins were from the future; was it really a stretch? Maybe they had come back to the past; of course, you were sure the woman had already thought of this; you wished she would share just a little more with you, anything more to help you understand the situation rather than leaving you floundering and drowning in a situation where you were out of your element. Today at tea, you were going to demand answers—not rudely, but you were going to get the answers you wanted. 

You finished getting cleaned up, dried off, and got dressed quickly. Your stomach gave a low rumble, and as you made your way back to that study you had found last night, your heart started to pound in your throat as you made your way there. The memories of her hand around your throat flashed in your mind—how terrified you had been at that moment. 

The study door was open, and you took a breath while walking in. “Usually we would take tea in the sphere; it has a delightful garden, but you are safest in the Tardis.” She said as you entered, your eyes scanned the room quickly, and fell on her. She sat up on this little raised part by some bookshelves. A small tea set was set out on the small table in front of her, along with a few different fruits and cakes. It was a proper tea setup. You moved to sit in the armchair that was angled towards hers. 

“I see.” You said lightly. 

“I am glad the clothing fits; I couldn’t have you traipsing about in those old, gross clothes, now could I?” She said as she poured herself a cup of tea, then poured you one. “Sugar? Cream?” She asked. You watched her, her body language was sort of rigid, but she was trying to present herself as friendly. You shifted in the armchair. You nodded and told her the amount you liked before she gave you the cup. You held the saucer in your hand and then took the cup off of it, putting it down. You held the warm glass in your hands, staring down into the liquid. 

“It’s not poison,” She spoke with a little grin that made you wonder if she was telling the truth. “I wouldn’t poison you, don’t be boring, I wouldn't ruin tea like that, not for you... Not after I’ve gone through great lengths to keep you safe….you are welcome.” She said expectantly. 

Was she expecting you to say thank you for her kidnapping you? Was she kidding? You brought the cup to your lips, taking a small sip of the tea. It was a nice blend of lavender and black tea. You could feel those icy blue eyes that were so enchanting watching your every move, like she was studying you and analyzing everything about you. 

“So have you found out anything about the…uh…assassins?” You asked after a moment of silence. 

"Yes, that was my long day yesterday,” she said, taking a sip of her own tea. “They are time assassins, much like weeping angels...oh right, I suppose you wouldn’t know what those are...hm, simple terms for you, I think,” she said, stirring her tea with a little silver spoon that she brought up to her mouth and let the tip of it press against her lips in thought. You watched her calmly, and you noticed she was wearing black today; it was still in the same style as her plum outfit, and her hair was still up, but some pieces had fallen to rest against her temple, but she didn’t seem to pay attention to it. 

“You don’t have to use simple terms, I do understand some things, I’m not stupid.” You protested after she took a few more minutes to think. 

“Oh, alright then, weeping angels are a sort of quantum-locked species, the lonely assassins they call them, they can take the form of many things, statues are their main appearance; and they can only move about if no sentient life forms are watching them. Essentially, what they do is touch you and put you into the past—a mercy they call it—letting their victims live a full life; they can consume the remaining time and energy that way, and of course, when they are in a pinch, they will just snap your neck like a wee little twig,” she mused, taking another sip of her tea and licking the corner of her lip before she continued. “Now, Time Assassins have taken that theory but are much more murderous; their bullets act as a weeping angel’s powers do, sending their victim back in time. The theory is that they shoot them somewhere vital, send the body back in time, and the past now has a John or Jane Doe to deal with, and the present has a missing person,” she explained. “Surely they don’t think that will work on me; I’ll just regenerate,” she shrugged.

“Regenerate? ” You asked, shaking your head a bit. 

“Yes, the perks of being me. You see, if I get wounded mortally, my body has a sort of defense where it will heal itself through regeneration. Of course, I won’t look like this anymore. Shame, because this one has been delightful so far. Of course it took some time to get used to, my first go as a woman,” she mused. 

“So.” You paused, taking a minute to gather your thoughts and put some things together. “You can just change your gender?” 

“Yes and no, I don’t quite get a choice in it; all a bit of luck of the draw sometimes... most times... doesn’t matter; we Time Lords and Ladies are eons above your human notions of gender and roles.” She waved it off and looked at you with a cat-like grin. 

“Okay, so… If their methods wouldn’t work on you, why use that method? And why come after you in the first place, and me?” You asked, leaning back in the chair a bit. You didn’t want to seem so tense, but you were. You watched as she took a look around the room in thought before her eyes returned to yours. 

“Well, it could work, but I’m not getting into that with you; you don’t need to know all the nasty little details.” She nodded. “What I am more interested in is why they think you are important enough to go after to lure me out.” She spoke, her fingers trailing over the lip of the teacup in thought. 

“Well, maybe in the future...” you trailed off, not really wanting to continue the thought.

“Oh, you think you are somehow important to me in the future.” She gave a wicked little smirk. “Now now pet, I am highly doubtful; you are cute, but...” she trailed off as well. She didn’t do relationships unless you had something to offer her, she paused. Perhaps you were another Lucy, a means to an end, a loyal pet. She clicked her tongue against her teeth as she thought about it, leaving you in silence. 

"No, that might make sense... Perhaps they misunderstood our relationship.” She spoke after a long while. You blinked and shifted again. “I don’t think they are trying to lure me; well, this me or their intel was wrong.” She mused, leaning back as she thought of all the scenarios and which one would be the most accurate. “Either way, they came to this time for a reason: to go after you. They had made an earlier attempt at me, but it didn’t work out for them, so they changed tactics. You were supposed to be in your apartment when it blew up, which they thought would bring me out in a rage.” She grinned as she put things together. “funny… I wonder what you did to catch my attention if this theory of mine is correct.” She looked at you more closely. 

Her eyes glided over your features, you weren’t the most offensive thing to the eyes, you were attractive, she had seen your thoughts, she knew you were intelligent, at least for a human, you also had an attitude, she almost liked that about you. You could be useful, she just had to get you loyal, she could just hypnotize you again, but that could be broken, shaken, true genuine loyalty was something else that couldn’t be broken as easily, she knew that well, the Doctor and his little human pets were a testament to that. 

You shrugged, you had no idea, you had thought she was beautiful when you saw her at the tea shop, and you still thought she was, but now there was a danger to her, she wasn’t just a stranger at the tea shop anymore, she was the alien that kidnapped you, the Mistress, or at least that was what she insisted you called her, but you really didn’t want to do that. 

“You are still so scared of me; your heart hasn’t stopped racing since you walked in.” She smirked, leaning forward just a bit. You shook your head, but it was a lie; she did make you nervous. "Oh, puppy, is it because I got a little rough last night?” She said it in a flirty tone that took you by surprise; she made it sound like it was an intimate encounter, not a violent one, but from what you could gather about her, maybe they were one and the same. 

“Don’t call me that.” You shook your head. “I am nervous because you are a stranger, a murderous one, a violent one, who kidnapped me.” You said your voice was strong at the beginning but wavered at the end. 

“Would you prefer Kitten?” She said she watched you, not denying the rest. “And I kidnapped you because they would have killed you... At least that is the running theory. To get to me, you should be thanking me.” She mused, leaning back again and watching you. 

“I would prefer my name,” you said exasperatedly, saying your name.

Missy paused and sighed. "Oh, alright, since we are going to be in this together for a bit longer than I anticipated, I suppose I could occasionally use your name, don’t get used to it…I won’t remember it.” A lie, she would remember it, but she would continue to use little pet names for you since they seemed to irritate you. “I suppose, as a sign of good faith, you can call me Missy,” she said after a moment. 

“Missy,” you repeated. “Okay, I can do that one.” You nodded. 

“You will still call me Mistress, but I suppose you can call me Missy occasionally.” She calmly spoke, putting her teacup down. “I think I will look up everything I need to know about you,” she mused, watching you for your reaction.

“Or you could ask me like a normal person.” You sighed, shaking your head.

“No….absolutely not….boring small talk… dreadful.” She shook her head. 

"Well, then tell me more about you.” You sighed, carefully reaching for one of the tea cakes. 

“Oh…sure–” She started, and you laughed, causing her to frown. “Why is that funny?” 

“You’ll talk about you, but you don’t want to talk about me, calling it boring small talk.” You said taking a bite of the cake. 

"Yes, well, because it is. You are a boring little human. I am The Mistress, a renegade Time Lady who has conquered planets.” She chuckled, making a grand gesture with her hand. “The greatest archenemy of the Doctor, and all around much more interesting.” She gave a smaller grin. 

“Oh…The Doctor?” You asked, “Do all um-- Gallifreyan’s have silly titles?” You asked with a small grin of your own. 

“Oh hush, The Mistress is a powerful title.” She raised an eyebrow. “So was my former moniker, The Master, bit cheeky, bit sexy, it strikes fear, is straight to the point, of who is in control and owns you.” She waved you off. You shook your head a bit but dropped it. You weren't interested in trying to tease her and have her get mad, thinking you were being rude about it. Your mind drifted back to last night, and you cleared your throat, pushing the thoughts away again. You were certainly going to say something later about the whole Mistress/Master motif. 

“Who is the Doctor?” You questioned, and the energy shifted, and you felt you had made a mistake again. 

“You won’t have to worry about him.” She said calmly, though her body language told you otherwise, you weren’t going to push it; you didn’t want her to be mad. 

“Okay, so what is our plan about the time assassins?” You asked while trying to get back on track. 

“Oh, yes, well, I figured I would dangle you as bait, don’t worry, pet, they won’t get close enough to kill you... But we are going to make them make another big mistake, which hopefully will give me time to catch one. We bring him to an undisclosed location and get our answers through a series of slow, painful tortures, though I do suppose torture doesn’t really work...but it will make me feel better.” She said her tone was light, like she was talking about the weather. “I’ll probably just get into their mind, poke around, take the information I want, and then kill them, and they will join my cyberdears,” she shrugged. "Oh, that’s a good one, you’ll love it,” she nodded. 

You blinked “Cyberdears?” you asked, looking at her in confusion.

"Oh, I can’t spoil the surprise, pet, but it is going to go viral,” she nodded.

She confused you; sometimes she was so posh, and then other times she was silly with her words, like when you watched a person from an older generation try the slang of this generation. However, once that thought subsided, there was an undertone you hadn’t caught before, but her smirk told you there was certainly something much darker to these cyberdears, as she called them. 

“Are those skeletons in the tanks?” You asked, but you were still uncomfortable with the idea of there being ninety-one of them, just right outside her tardis. 

“Shh, spoilers pet,” she giggled like it was her own inside joke. You grimaced but nodded, finishing your cup of tea and the tea cake you had grabbed. “So it’s settled, you’ll play the delightful worm on a hook, and we will catch us a time assassin,” she grinned widely. “I bet you’ll squirm perfectly.” She nodded.

You frowned, you didn’t like this idea. “Was that a compliment? An insult?” you asked. 

“Yes.” She nodded and took a large bite of tea cake herself. 

“There has to be a safer way, you’ve gone through all this trouble of making sure I don’t leave your ship, and now the plan is to dangle me out in public, waiting for the Assassin to make their move? What if they, I dunno, are good snipers?” You sighed.

“Well, you see, we go somewhere where we have the advantage.” She watched you, giving you a look that told you she found you annoyingly amusing. “No multiple high ledges, and plus, I’ll be watching you, don’t you trust me?” She teased you, and you blinked at her. What did you say to that? If you said no, she might get angry. You didn’t trust her; trust was earned, and all she had done was kidnap you. Well, that wasn’t fair to say; she did technically keep you safe from harm, but that didn’t excuse the whole kidnapping thing. 

You opened your mouth a few times, trying to find the words. This amused her because she called you a trout and took another big bite of her tea cake. “Well, my dear, do you trust me?” she pressed, feeling your apprehension and deciding to play with it a bit. 

“N…w….” You stammered. 

“Oh dear, was that an attempt at a no?" She grinned, putting the plate down and turning to face you full-on. 

“No, I mean yes, I don’t trust you; I don’t know you. It’s been eggshells since you kidnapped.” Missy, cut you off.

“Saved.” Missy nodded, correcting you.

“No matter what you call it, you won’t let me go.” You firmly spoke. 

She shook her head, like what you were saying was nonsense. “So you would rather walk out there, out of my little safe haven, and then get killed? All because I am so scary?” She watched your movements closely. You sighed and shook your head. That wasn’t what you wanted, you wanted freedom, but you wanted not to be killed by some assassins who were coming after you because of her. 

“Maybe just a little freedom; I haven’t been outside of this.” You motioned around, talking about the ship. “In a week now, we barely know each other, and I don’t know, maybe I’m just having a hard time with everything right now!” You sighed and shook your head, looking away from her. You grimaced again. You didn’t want to be too emotional, but you hadn’t really had time to relax enough to work through things. 

"Jeeze, you humans are touchy... emotional...” she muttered, crossing her arms and looking at you. There was a long silence. “You are going to be fine….you are as safe as you can be here. If I personally wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have survived this long; I would have released you into the tardis’s underlevels and hunted you for sport.” She said calmly, “Now, we are going to finish tea; you are going to go slink off, you will join me for dinner at seven p.m. sharp, and then we will discuss this plan further, no more gross emotions from you. Do you understand?” She said like there was no room to argue. 

You nodded and looked back down at your hands. You could get through today, and once again you had more questions than answers, but it was fine, you had accepted that this woman wouldn’t give you a straight answer.

━━━━━━»»•••««━━━━━━

TAG LIST| @germansarechill

if you want to be added to the tag list just let me know!~

[moonypears-blog]

Keep you company.

For day 2 of Anti Cedfia Week-Picnic.

Wordcount: 760.

Standing by a big bush of trees in the royal garden, Cedric watched the princess sadly. 

She was settled down in the stone-made gazebo, looking out longingly. 

He’d heard about her missing dinner with her family, sparking a bit of worry in him. So, he decided to go out looking for her. He’d been watching her for a few minutes. He wasn’t quite sure how to approach her. 

He saw the little 13-year old sigh, looking down at her hands in her lap. He really needed to speak to her. 

Quietly, he walked over to the gazebo, leaning on one of the pillars. 

“Are you alright, princess?” he asked. Sofia jumped. 

She calmed when she saw him, settling back down. “Mmhm.”

Cedric crossed his arms, cocking a hip as he looked down at her. “We both know it will take more than that to convince me, dearest.”

Sofia refused to look at him. It was his turn to sigh. 

“You’re worrying me, princess. Won’t you say something else?” he tried again, noticing the little twitches she made. She always did that when she was stressed about something. 

“It’s nothing…I’m okay,” she tried to give a reassuring smile, playing with her hands. 

Cedric uncrossed his arms, planting himself down on the floor of the gazebo next to her. 

He only looked at her for a few moments, analysing her twitches and facial expressions.

“‘It’s nothing’ implies that there is something, but you think it’s meaningless.” he said, setting his hands on his knees. “What is it, princess?”

Sofia looked out over the grass, over the trees and up at the castle. Her hands always stayed intertwined. 

“It’s just this time of year…So many balls are being planned, everything is always so busy and fast, it’s almost time for the annual ball of me and mom becoming royals…I haven’t gotten used to it yet..” Sofia confessed, only looking into the castle windows. 

Cedric nodded. “It has been quite busy the past few weeks, hasn’t it?” 

“Mmhm…Sometimes I just sit out here, when it’s too much.”

“I can guess it’s too much currently?” Cedric queried. “Yes…”

Cedric’s heart ached for her. He grew up in the bustling castle, it was normal for things to get hectic and busy, he was used to it. But Sofia came from a much different background. 

“My dear, you know if you ever need anything at all, I’m always here. You know exactly where to find me,” he promised. He was never as busy as the other castle workers, never having to turn left and right for his duties. Almost all of his work let him be contained in his workshop. And he’d drop anything for Sofia. 

Sofia finally looked at him, lightly smiling. 

“Thank you, Mr Cedric.” 

He saw her twitching slow to a stop, her hands leaving her lap. 

“Now,” Cedric started, “would you like something to eat, darling?” he asked. “I’ll admit, I haven’t eaten much today, either.”

“Yes, please,” Sofia still smiled, happy to finally have that off her chest. 

Cedric pulled his wand from his sleeve, dramatically holding it up. He whirled it around a few times, saying some words. 

A chequered picnic blanket appeared first, then a plate of sandwiches, followed by little bowls of sliced fruits and vegetables, like apples and cucumber. Some sweet things appeared, like chocolate chip cookies, and finally, some steaming herbal tea. 

“It looks amazing, Mr Cedric!” Sofia praised, looking at everything he made.

Just as dramatically, Cedric put his wand back into his sleeve, reaching for a cookie. “Why thank you, princess.”

Sofia picked up what seemed like a ham sandwich. She looked up at Cedric. 

“It’s not real,” he assured simply. Sofia grinned, taking a bite. 

“Do you really think I would try to feed you meat, Sofia?” he asked playfully, cookie in his hand. Sofia shook her head with a mouthful of sandwich. 

“I meant what I said, Sofia,” Cedric told her after a few minutes, putting down his cup of tea. “If you need anything. Anything at all, I will always be here for you.”

Cedric chuckled at her, taking a piece out of his cookie.

He wasn’t sure Sofia knew how much she meant that. Whether it was emotional needs, like someone to spend time with or a shoulder to cry on, or she needed help doing something or needed something magical, he’d always be there. 

Sofia put her treat down, rushing to wrap her arms around him. 

“Oh, princess…” Cedric lamented, wrapping his arms around her back. 

“Thank you. Thank you.”

[sijetaismoi]

First sentence game

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

Thank you @mamadoc for tagging me. I was planning to post this a few days ago, but I guess life happened...

Also, I'm going to twist the rules a bit, and will choose from all of my stories, not just the most recent ones. Well I guess they can all be considered recent, as I just started writing this year. I hope you guys enjoy some of them ❤️

I heard you

"She won’t be coming tonight."

He takes in Angela's words and their implications. Whether she’s trying to reassure him or spare him from needless waiting, his friend doesn’t beat around the bush. She knows him well enough to know he keeps glancing toward the patio door, hoping to see her arrive.

Tim accepted the Evers' invitation to an early summer garden party, and whether Lucy would be there or not didn’t influence his decision. He’s already discussed with his therapist how important it is to make choices for himself, and only for himself. So, he’s here mainly because his best friend asked him to, because he’s always warmly welcomed by her and Wesley, because the other colleagues present are also friends, because he needs to see people, and because he’ll probably have a good time.

If Lucy’s there, it’ll be a bonus, the cherry on top. And if she’s not, it won’t ruin his evening. He’ll be disappointed, but he’ll enjoy the conversations with the others.

He’s making progress, step by step. And simply being aware of that is already a huge achievement.

2. Heatwave

The temperatures have been skyrocketing for three days now, and it's supposedly the hottest summer ever. Lucy is drenched in sweat as she parks her shop to go for lunch, despite the air conditioning.

Nolan signals for her to join their table, where he’s already eating with Tim, Angela, and Nyla. She heads straight to the food truck to grab a salad before they run out and then sits in the only available chair between Tim and Nyla, letting out a long sigh. She loves summer but hates the heatwave. The thought of another sleepless night, tossing and turning in bed while hoping for a slight refreshing breeze, puts her in a foul mood.

All her colleagues around the table have noticed this, and none of them dares to ask how her day is going. She stabs at her cucumbers with her fork as if to make them pay for what she's enduring.

Her eye is drawn to the dessert waiting for Tim. She starts to salivate at the sight of his slices of watermelon—fresh, juicy, sweet.

"Where did you get that?" she asks.

He gestures to the food truck behind them with his thumb.

"There wasn't any when I passed by."

He shrugs. "Must be popular."

She lets out a grunt. Now that she's seen it, she can't think of anything else. And it only makes her mood worse.

3. Another wedding with you

Nell Forester is a bundle of positive energy that reminds him of Lucy. When she stands all excited in front of his desk, he restrains himself from rolling his eyes and merely raises an eyebrow.

"Anything I can do for you?"

She hands him a pale pink envelope, her smile lighting up her face and nearly the entire floor.

"You don’t have to open it right now. I really want you to be there, so I hope you RSVP. I’ve gotta go, see you."

And just as quickly as she appeared, she disappears down the hallway. He can’t help but chuckle. He opens the envelope and unsurprisingly finds an invitation to celebrate the union of Nell and Ellroy on June 15th in San Luis Obispo. He puts the invitation and the RSVP card (which he promises himself to return promptly) back into the envelope and places it in his desk drawer, waiting until the end of the day.

4. What's in a name?

Lucy Chen is by far the most beloved officer at Mid-Wilshire. Sincere and wholehearted, she deeply cares about people, trusts them, listens attentively, consoles, and shares moments of joy. Smiling and radiant, she has certainly earned the nickname some have given her: a true ray of sunshine. Human and altruistic, she helps whenever she can without expecting anything in return. Switching a night shift? No problem. Taking a twenty-minute detour to help a breastfeeding colleague who ran out of storage bags? She makes it her mission. Giving up her last granola bar when she hasn't eaten in eight hours? She'll manage. Welcoming new recruits at the station? It's the task no one wants and everyone delegates to her, and she takes pleasure in being the friendly face for new rookies or freshly transferred colleagues.

So, it's with habit and ease that she introduces herself to the new officer in uniform at the back of the meeting room, offers to show him around the facilities later and explain how the coffee machine works, invites him to the new recruits' get-together she'll organize at the end of the week even if he's the only new one, and wishes him a good day.

5. Practice makes perfect

“I'm hoping that we're good at certain other things, as well.”

“Oh? Want to find out right now?”

So they did find out some time later. Lucy clutches the sheet to her chest and stares at the ceiling of her bedroom, her breathing gradually calming. Tim is lying beside her in the same position, eyes fixed on the same point.

“You okay?” he asks her.

She nods and bites her lip.

“You?”

“Good.”

Their first time was much like their first date. Hesitant, awkward, clumsy. She feels ashamed to think that, but she had imagined stars, sparks, fireworks, like when they first kissed before leaving on the mission to Las Vegas. They had waited weeks for this moment, and she feels terribly disappointed and guilty for even thinking this while having the person who means the most to her in her bed.

She turns her head to face him and he seems just as embarrassed as she is. Neither of them falls into a euphoric post-coital haze.

And yet that's exactly what they should be doing.

She bursts into laughter, and he turns his head towards her, very surprised.

6. 7 stages

She watches him walk away, and she remains rooted in place, unable to follow him, unable to call out to him, unable to get back into her car.

She sees cars and uniformed officers coming and going, entering and exiting the building, joining a vehicle or stepping out of one.

Life goes on while she is frozen in place.

Eventually, she opens the car door and slides into the driver's seat. In autopilot mode, she starts the engine and leaves her parking spot, driving away from the police station, mechanically stopping at lights and stop signs, using her indicators when necessary, adjusting her speed, and parking in front of her building.

The journey to the apartment unfolds in the same manner: every movement, every step, is so ingrained in her that she doesn't need to think.

She turns the keys in the lock, turns on the light, sets down her bag, kicks off her shoes. She doesn't realize that the apartment is empty, that Tamara isn't there. She heads to the bathroom, sheds her clothes, steps into the shower. Again and again, the same actions, the habit, the routine, that render her thoughtless.

She's not in a state to think.

7. Nineteen days

She walks towards her car, ready to head home and open a bottle of wine that she might be able to finish without Jackson's help when what sounds like a bark makes her stop and turn around.

"Hey, Chen!"

She furrows her brow and waits for her training officer to catch up in a few strides.

"Have you decided where you're going to meet?"

She smiles, touched, because behind all his cynical and sometimes sharp remarks, behind his indifference, behind his sometimes brutal words, there is also the need to protect her. She told him she planned to go out with Dave tonight, and he wants to know where she's going, just in case her date turns out to be - again - a serial killer about to abduct her. He wants to know where she's going, with whom, and she's grateful for that. Coming from anyone else, she would find it unbearable.

"Nowhere. I'm going home. "

"Really?"

"And alone!" she emphasizes.

“Do you want to grab a beer?"

8. Without a word

It's an evening like any other, spent in the comfort of their home, each occupied with different tasks as mundane as clearing the table or emptying the washing machine.

He passes by the door of their bedroom, and the sight is enchanting. She wears her silk kimono, her hair pulled up and secured with a clip, humming along to the music filling the room. The candles she loves to light to relax cast a soft, natural glow that illuminates her features. She moves with calm and grace, and he marvels at each fluid relaxed serene gesture.

She hears him approaching but doesn't stop what she's doing. She's not surprised to feel him against her, behind her, to feel his lips on her neck, his hands on her hips, his fingers along her arms. She shivers.

He presses the clip, releasing her hair into cascading waves, and runs his fingers through the silky strands flowing down her back.

She bites her lip and forgets about the laundry on the dresser. She turns to him and sees his hand moving towards the belt of her robe, which he slowly undoes, the two silk panels opening to reveal what little she wears after her shower.

9. Lucy's personal box of personal things

"And this is the very last box!" Lucy exclaims, depositing her burden on the floor, concluding the final trip from her old apartment to their house before returning the keys to the landlord.

She looks around and realizes it was only the first step; they still have to unpack everything and find a place for each item. In their home. She's so excited that she's certain she'll spend part of the night on it.

"I'll take care of the bedroom, you take the living room?" She nods and grabs a box cutter to cut the sealing tape, then puts on some music. The first box contains books. She takes several at a time and places them on the shelves of the bookcase they assembled the day before.

Feeling light, she starts humming along to the music. She empties one box, then another. She looks at the labels on the boxes before opening them, trying to do it in order or to limit herself to one area of the living room to avoid getting overwhelmed. Sometimes it's her handwriting, sometimes it’s Tim's. She makes sure to mix what comes from his house, what comes from her apartment, to make it not his stuff and her stuff anymore, but their stuff.

10. What if you say no?

It all starts one morning when the three of them find themselves exactly at the same moment in front of the bathroom door, ready to draw straws, if not for Tamara who proclaims herself the chosen one and rushes in before he or she could react. Lucy then looks at him with pleading eyes, and seeing the way she bounces on herself while bending her knees, he knows he has definitely lost the game. He will have to tame his bladder.

*

He decides to get up earlier. They are still asleep, and he has all the time to start the coffee maker and have the bathroom to himself. Of course, this is without counting on Tamara, who has an exam that morning, got up earlier, thought she would be the first in the bathroom, entered without knocking just as he was undressing and about to step into the shower. It will take them weeks to dare to look each other in the eyes after this incident.

*

He comes home in the middle of the night after an intervention with Metro, and he trips over the shoes piling up next to the door, he catches himself as he can, barely muffling a curse, and can only admit defeat when he sees the light underneath the bedroom's door, a sign that all his efforts not to wake her up have failed.

I'm sorry if you've already been tagged, I'm not following a lot of writers, all of them being Chenford, and well... chances are you've already done it. Tagging : @zadien, @imperiumwifestrikesagain, @ao3sostarry, @arch78 (if you feel like it, no pressure), @romantashas, (but everyone should feel free to participate).

[itsbenedict]

From the beginning | Previously | Coin standings | 42 | 20

(Okay, weird poll results here. Equal votes Y vs N, but I'll subtract my own, so N- and CUCUMBER GUNSHOT clearly wins the direction.)

There's no need to report a bug- that might just su𝕸mon another data validator, or so--̷̘͗ͅ-̸̲̪̎-̴͈̽̐ͅ-mething. You've had quite enough of running away from myster𝕀ous black danger icons on the map.

Which just leaves... where to go? You decide not to APPROACH FATED TERMINUS, and instead SUCCUMB TO HUNGER. That stale pastry and yogurt really weren't DELETE enough to keep you going- you need to go back and stock up, ASAP. Slowly, you turn around, and return to the cafeteria.

There's a woman there who wasn't there before. She's carrying a large scythe, and is speaking into what looks like a radio.

"Lethal with hen...?"

What? Hen? No, that's not the kind of bird you are. ...What kind of DELETE bird are you, again? You tell her to wait a moment- you've almost got it.

"...Nation's typos. Took bulk jug aisles."

What aisles, now? You can't quite make out what she's saying. She's still just talking into that radio of hers.

"Why a hornet's assets? ...Owl, threw greenly. Thin amounts."

Yeah, lady, you're making thin amounts of sense right now. Are you alright? She doesn't look too good DELETE. You take a step towards her, and she steps back.

"Uh, begonia bottom!"

Eﾒ-cuse you? What did she just ¢all you? Is that even DELETE an insult? Like, there's worse things for your bottom to be. You ask her what she's doing here, and if she really thought that burn would sting somehow.

"Anti-tank colt."

Huh? No, tђis is just VIOLENCE AS FIRED. It just stuns stuff- you're pretty DELETE sure it wouldn't bᴇ much DELETE use against a tank.

"...Whose roach?" she says, scowling at her radio. At least, you think she's scowling. It's hard to tell with her face all obscured by shadow.

You---̶̟͚͠͝-̶͕͇̓̐-̵̧̨͍̺̖̜͓̱̜̟̲͎̻̀̏̔̋͆͂̆͌͘͝-̷̢͙̯͍̖͓̝̹̙̔͒̐̉͑͊̕͜͝-̷̫̬̗͋̏̂̍̽͌̈́̉̓̀̓̔̕͠͝-̸̛̩̭̥̺̔͗̐͆͐̓͂͝ͅ-̷̥͉͉̹̄͑̈̿̌̀̃͆̉̒̾̌́͠͝-̴̰̆-̶͖͊̕-- approach the vending machines- you think you spot something that might've been left for you, if someone were to PORT POLYTHEI丂TS and spend Coin. You're trying to ignore the ⒮cythe woman- it kind of seems like she's having DELETE a private conversation. You can't hear whoever's on the other end of that radio too well, and she hasn't really directed anything at you.

"Jilt nullifies kilt."

...Uh. What? That sounded like more nonsense, 𝕭ut something about the way she said it made your bl𝑶od run cold. You turn to see her brandishing her scythe, and be𝓪ring down on you.

The radio murmurs something. "Winding quad-hit," she replies.

She suddenly moves with alarming speed, and you just barely duck out of the way of the slicing a𝕽c of her DELETE 𝔻ELETE scythe as it cuts through the air with a crackling noise. You raise your DELETE shield to block a followup swing- what the hell is she doing?!

She's winding up for anoｔher DELETE attack- and you're pretty sure you can't keep dodging her forever. Is she a secur🅸ty guard?! You've got to get the hell out of here! But... which way do you run?!

You could return the way you came, maybe? You've got some RETURNING THOUGHTS that are starting to sound like a great idea right about now.

There's a scurrilous knave on the other end of the room, by the hallway to rece𝙿tion- perhapˢ you could GET TO DASTARD, and then... be hurt, and GETS OW? Or be neither prep NOR GOTH?

Continued | 42 | 19

[evandarya]

This is my entry into the BatPham Disney AU summer event!

Shaytan Alhufra

The Hunchback of Notre Dame AU

[Read on Ao3]

Day 1

(Death/Resurrection)

“Mom and Dad are out this weekend, and Jazz is planning on spending the whole time at the library, if you guys want to come over,” Danny said conversationally one day over the lunch table as he stirred the gravy into what passed for mashed potatoes.

“Can’t.” Sam stabbed a cucumber slice out of her salad angrily. “My mom is taking me dress shopping for some party over the summer.”

“Me, either, dude,” Tucker said, struggling to open his milk carton. “Lex Corp is unveiling a new prototype drone and I want to watch the live demonstration. Last time something caught on fire, it was awesome.”

“Oh, okay.” Danny squashed his disappointment and fear. He really didn’t want to be alone in the house right now. Not with the empty hole in the wall in the basement. His parents said the portal didn’t work, that it might never work if they couldn’t figure out what was going on with it, but that didn’t stop the feeling that something was lurking in the darkness, beckoning to him. “Maybe I can come over and watch it with you?”

“Yeah, that sounds like fun,” Tucker said, giving up on his mangled milk carton. Sam took it with a sigh and opened it easily and handed it back to him. “You boys have fun. I’m going to try to negotiate for only one petticoat this time.”

“Ew, people still wear those?” Tucker asked, recoiling from her with a grimace.

“No, and I don’t know why Mom insists I do.”

Danny couldn’t stop himself from laughing at his friends' dual looks of disgust. This weekend would be fine. He would be fine.

***

Danny unlocked the front door to the empty house and let himself in. It was dark, but enough light was filtering in through the living room windows that he didn’t feel the need to turn on a light. He locked the door behind himself and made his way to the kitchen. Tucker’s family was great. They never treated him any differently for what his parents did for a living and avoided the subject since they knew it made him uncomfortable. His parents studied ghosts, something that can’t even be proven. How did they expect him to make friends when he was the but of all the other kid’s jokes on career day?

Danny sighed and filled a glass with water from the sink. Even the city water was safer to drink than the pitcher in the fridge, stored next to ectoplasm samples, because why would they put a fridge in the lab when they have a perfectly good one in the kitchen? Mr. Foley had cooked dinner, spaghetti, and meatballs with garlic bread and salad, and Danny was always thankful for a dinner he didn’t have to kill a second time. He finished his water and put the glass in the almost full dishwasher. He should run it, but he didn’t know if Jazz would eat when she came home, so he left it. He could run it in the morning either way.

Right now he wanted to go to bed and sleep while his parents were out and the constant noise from the lab was at an all-time low. It was never really quiet in the lab, with too many machines whirring and beeping with ongoing experiments, too much electricity surging through the wires, but without his parents tinkering and exclamations of discovery or disappointment it was almost eerie how quiet it was. Danny walked quickly past the basement door and headed up the stairs to his room. He made it about halfway when he heard it. There was a skittering. Something was moving around in the lab. A mouse? He hoped not. He saw what ectoplasm did to hotdogs, he did not want to see what it did to a mouse. He opened the basement door on silent hinges and padded his way down the stairs. He didn’t dare turn on a light in case he scared the mouse away. He crept across the lab, eyes on the edges and corners of the room where he knew mice liked to hide. He didn’t see anything, but it was pretty dark.

He heard it again, the quiet almost non-existent whisper of tiny feet on metal from behind him. He turned, dread pooling in his stomach, toward what he knew was behind him. The empty void of the broken portal. Its metal jaws stretched seven feet in each direction, but it felt much bigger than that. Cables and wires hung from the walls and spilled from its open end like the tongue of some great beast. Someone could mistake it for dead, but Danny felt in his gut that it was sleeping. The beast was sleeping and a mouse was running around in its mouth. He didn’t know what it was that made him take a step forward, to enter that great maw. Some stupidity or bravery took hold of him and he placed one foot into the void. Then the other. Then one more step and his foot caught on a loose cable.

You hear, sometimes, of how people in extreme situations say the world slowed down around them. He and Jazz had watched a documentary about it, once. The doctors they had talked to said it had something to do with the adrenaline and your body’s reaction to sudden stress. It had never really come up again. He was so rarely in life-threatening situations. But as soon as his foot caught on the cable and he started tipping forward he saw everything. His hands shot up on their own accord, he saw the button, grey like the surrounding metal, and felt it hit his palm and depress. He heard the beast around him wake up and shudder to life. A ball of green fire built in the depths of its throat and sparked along the metal, raced up his arm and across his chest. He saw it all before the pain registered. He barely had time to scream before everything went green and then faded to black.

***

Ra’s Al Ghul walked into the chamber like he owned the world. In essence, he did. He owned the world and ruled it from the shadows, the same way he had been doing for centuries. He was rarely surprised anymore, and when something did happen to surprise him he often took interest in it. He circled the pool of Lazarus water, his underlings bowing their heads in deference or fear, he didn’t care which. Something was happening that he had never seen before. The pool was bubbling, almost like it was boiling, except the temperature hadn’t changed. A dark vapor poured off the surface and gathered and swirled around the roof of the chamber. It hung there like a cloud threatening a storm.

Suddenly he saw something in the water, something pale white floating up to the surface.

“Everyone out,” He said quietly. He needn’t shout, everyone obeyed him without question. Soon he was alone in the room watching whatever it was slowly make its way to the surface. It took several minutes and several more slow circles of the pool for the body to emerge. Ra’s carefully pulled the body from the water and laid it down on the cool stone. It was a boy, young, maybe mid-teens, with pale skin tinged blue and hair as white as fresh snow. The clothes he had been wearing, a simple t-shirt and blue jeans, were in tatters, burned away and barely hanging on. Ra’s checked the boy’s neck for a pulse. He didn’t find one, instead, he found a green mark like lightning branching up his neck and face, and disappearing under the collar of his ruined shirt. Ra’s pulled the garment off and it practically disintegrated in his hands. The lighting stretched across the boy’s chest and down his left arm, ending in a nasty-looking burn on his palm that oozed a vibrant green fluid.

“Pit demon.” he spat, standing up quickly and taking a few steps back. He had heard of them and read about them in texts. How they had come out of the pits and wreaked havoc on whoever was unfortunate enough to be near. How they bled a green more vibrant than anything that occurred in nature, even the pits paled in comparison. Ra’s had half a mind to separate its head from its body and bury them in separate parts of the world before it woke up and started causing problems. But then it stirred and choked, sitting up quickly and vomiting Lazarus water onto the stone floors. Its arms shook as it held itself up. Then it stood up, rising on unsteady feet that quickly left the ground. It’s arms flailed in wide circles and it wobbled in the air. It was like it had never flown before like it was a baby. A cruel smile found its way onto Ra’s face. The Lazarus pits had given him a baby pit demon, and he had an idea of how it could be of use to him.

He was even kind enough to bestow upon it a name: Shaytan Alhufra, Demon of the Pit.

[liketwoswansinbalance]

Round III of Excerpts from The One True School Master of Vault 41

Agatha turned to the Rafal. "Interesting,” she nodded. "I'm sure you don't remember the names of all the masses you've murdered, but tell me, whose face do you see in your nightmares?" she prompted expectantly.

“Rh—h-hACK,” said he, the Evil sorcerer.

“What? Come again?” Agatha prodded all too knowingly as she got to her feet.

Rafal seized up and started to convulse silently. Something was obstructing his airways.

Sophie hopped up from her seat. “Aggie! He’s choking, Aggie!” she squawked.

“Oh! Well, do something then! He’s yours to look after!” Agatha crossed her arms and stared Rafal dead in the eye as he suffocated, daring him to try anything.

“B-but, I don’t know how to—" Sophie’s voice died in her throat as she fluttered her hands in distress. She looked at Agatha in askance. "Would you revive or resuscitate..."

Agatha shook her head stubbornly. She was Sophie's savior and no one else's. On occasion, she would save Tedros, but he usually wouldn't let her save him. "If he dies now, there'll be no one to blame and it'll be of natural causes. And, I'll be doing Tedros a favor by sparing him a heart attack. He's been through so much already, I'm not sure his heart could take another shock, like the one in front of us."

Sophie exhaled, ready to blow up, flustered and red. She could barely get words out, and froze in place. Her ribcage throbbed with panic, like she’d swallowed her heart whole.

She turned to Kiko, next, to seek help, but found that Kiko was gone! Sophie hadn’t noticed that the Evergirl, the only one she could expect a scrap of human decency from had fled from the table!

Turning bluer by the second, Rafal stopped clutching his throat.

He stood up abruptly, chair scraping the glass floor as it skidded back with a screech. He motioned with his hands to signal to the girls that they didn’t have to intervene, dismissing them.

Gripping the table, he leaned on it, bent over its edge, and thrust his fists against his diaphragm hard, dislodging what had caught in his throat.

A saliva-coated coin of cucumber shot out of his windpipe and hit Agatha squarely in the eye.

Sophie sagged in relief.

The slice of cucumber slid down Agatha’s cheek leaving a trail of spittle. “Well, that’s settled,” she griped sullenly. She flumped down on her seat cushion again, long, rangy limbs askew. “Too bad you’re alive.”

“Too bad indeed. For you,” Rafal smirked, stretching his tensed jaw so it clicked.

Agatha winced. “After yet another run-in with death, you’re still here. Guess my luck’s run dry for good. Will Lady Fortune ever be on my side?”

“Not if you don’t cease with the complaining,” he taunted, “If only I could stretch you beneath her wheel, but alas… I’m beholden to your dear friend.”

“Enough,” Sophie boomed as she slammed her hands on the glass table. The table shuddered, and the filigree bone china jittered as several serving dishes clinked together.

Agatha and Rafal swiveled to look at her.

“That’s it,” Sophie fumed, “I’ll put up with none of this infantile bickering while I’m present. You two must learn to cooperate. I know you don’t trust him, Agatha, darling, and admittedly, I don’t either, but I think he’s trying, at the very least, to be helpful, so be civil. The same goes for you as well, Rafal. At least try to look contrite. And remember: my say is final.”

All three fell silent for a moment.

"If you actually were wondering,” Rafal told Agatha, "The answer is Rhian. His face has haunted my dreams every night since he died.”

⸻

[Note: A lot comes to pass between these two scenes, so don’t expect them to be perfectly chronological. I just thought the shift could be fun to see.

And, this second section takes place earlier on in the plot by the way. We're nowhere near the climax with these two excerpts.

Also, watch what you think, Agatha. Some dreadful irony will come back to bite you, and everyone to be fair.

Oh, and did anyone catch the Shakespeare reference?]

Good's glass walls beamed back the moonlight like searchlights spilling from the columns. The walls were truly a spectacular sight, the mazes of halls all illuminated in silver.

Yet beauty and brilliant lighting do not the optimum conditions for breaking and entering make.

Every polished facet contained Agatha’s reflection, exposing her in her black robes. And, she was well-aware of this disadvantage, but she would never be able to slip away during the day, so night it was.

She rounded the bend and her spine prickled with the familiar sensation of being watched.

After her run-in with Professor Anemone, she now roamed the halls with much less fear. This time, she encountered a different petrified faculty member. Pollux.

She reached up and knocked lightly at the space between his eyes. Nearly soundlessly, it echoed, muffled by his thick-skulled, furred brow.

Just what she’d thought, he had nothing but a load of fluff in there. Agatha laughed to herself.

The labyrinthine glass breezeways, went winding and overlapping every which way, breathtaking in their complexity, but Agatha had discovered that no matter which corridor she turned into, the swathes of friezes lining the walls would direct her, pointing her in the same direction, hopefully the right direction.

The pearlescent friezes were inlaid with nacre, and they cast ribboned, iridescent rainbows when it was day. Though now, they gleamed a dim silver.

There they were, the figures frozen in motion, a goose girl’s tresses, a farm lad’s cap blown in the wind, trees doubled over, all bowing to the same current.

Certainly, they had been revised, but by whom?

All in one, singular direction they went, one after another in a sundry procession: fairy godmothers’ crystalline wands, soldiers’ spears, kings’ scepters, shamans’ pipes and tapering beards, Seers’ gazes, wizards’ staffs, fair maidens’ dismembered, white fingers, birds’ beaks, mermens’ tridents, agrarians’ pitchforks, crowds’ pennants, jousters’ lances, heraldic banners fluttering aloft, sylphs’ wispy tails, cupids’ arrows, and quixotic princes’ swords.

Agatha could not make heads or tails of these strange alterations to the scenes acting as her guides. They were most probably leading her to her final destination, as if they were conspiring to help her. But her theft would be a far cry from a Good Deed. It breached the Rules.

It was as if the School itself were supporting her theft from it. Or, could it be?

She stopped short.

And a prideful voice projected from somewhere sounded, reverberating through the glass-enclosed tunnel. “Move,” it told her with marked disdain and thinly veiled impatience.

It was coming from the walls, she concluded. Agatha looked about uneasily, thoroughly unsettled, and spun on her heels to face them. The carvings.

She stared intently at the wall closest to her.

A lean, cloaked prince was posed in the midst of slaying a serpentine creature that curled in on itself, swallowing its own tail. It was circular, made of a writhing mass of things.

Agatha shuddered involuntarily as she studied it. The beast’s scales resembled Japeth’s Scims a great deal. All snakes reminded her of Japeth these days. A wyrm, was it? No, it was an ouroboros.

And the prince’s banner, it was a gloomier, storm-cloud grey, silver like the Wish Fish. And it had a swan gracing it, an odd, obsidian piece of glass set into the frieze, looking darker than the rest of the banners. Still, it held gleams of iridescence. It was just duller and darker in finish than the other coats of arms. Almost, just almost, Evil’s banner.

The prince turned to her from his carved position, pointed his sword ahead and glared right at her. His swan crest blinked and seemed to glare down at her as well.

“Move, you imbecile,” said a cold, villainous, not particularly princely voice from the carved figure. “We don't have all night.”

Agatha stared dumbfounded.

"Yes, it's me,” Rafal’s voice seethed. “And I can't hold them frozen forever. So, go.”

Agatha stepped away from the wall, and proceeded down the last few lengths of the hall.

No, impossible. Rafal helping her was impossible, she thought breathlessly. Laughable. She was tempted to scoff, but held herself back since she didn’t want to take this one-time occurrence for granted.

Rafal. Of course. Always had to represent his own side, she supposed. The depraved madcap. Couldn’t masquerade as Good for a day, could he? If he had to be Good, he’d croak. She was sure of it. There wasn’t a single thing in these green Woods he could do to repent, help or no help. Not a thing.

He always had to be so maddeningly obvious about his darker, murderous instincts. His cold voice had been a dead giveaway. Even Sophie was subtler. And Sophie, subtle? No chance of it! He was just worse by comparison, that was all.

All the doom and gloom and the no-nonsense demeanor, it got tiring after a while. Christ, had she been like that before?

Agatha had masqueraded as a witch her whole life and look where it had gotten her. Just once, she wished she could see him beaten down and forced to act a harder role. Imagine, him, dealt a harder role to play. Like hers.

Had he ever been oppressed in his life? He was an oppressor! Well, Evil had been oppressed, but that was his own doing. He’d brought the curse upon himself by slaughtering his own brother!

You could do anything while Evil. But Good came with restrictions. The Nevers were freer, truly. They didn’t chastise bad manners and loud chewing. Well, Rafal seemed to, for Sophie’s sake. But Agatha knew most Nevers wouldn’t care a jot about tea party etiquette.

So long Rafal and thanks for all the help. I hope you wind up dead.

She had the urge to look back, but nevertheless, she turned away from the carved prince as he took up his sword and animatedly resumed fighting his battle with the ouroboros, blade clashing against scales, as if he were fighting his own violent rebirth.

Agatha was certain that this robbery wasn’t exactly the sort of cooperation Sophie had in mind, but it would have to do. It was the most they could muster up. And what did it matter now?

She gripped the crystal knob to Professor Dovey's office and turned it. Locked. Drat!

Then, she heard a clink and something pin-like skidded across the floor. The carved prince’s tiny sword.

She inserted it into the lock, and silently thanked Rafal. Maybe, he wasn’t so corrupt after all.

She tucked the sword into her pocket, and tentatively entered Professor Dovey’s office. She didn’t look back at the frieze, now converted into an ivory scene of bloodshed instead of victory. Nor did she catch sight of the tiny prince being disemboweled by the ouroboros, gutted through the gaps of the plating in his armor, leaking entrails, and succumbing to a theatrical “death” without his tiny sword.

The miniature black swan banner finally tipped and sank with a metallic clank, fluttering up like a flag of surrender before it settled on the ground.

After he was “killed,” Rafal exited the wall. A decent practice session in dying, he thought. Though it wasn't quite right. And being eviscerated wasn't a pleasant way to go, he found. He mentally crossed that method off his list.

The frieze reverted back to a prince frozen in the motion of slaying the ouroboros once again, banner branded with a white swan, as if Rafal had never been there at all.