#finally got my outfit for my danny show sorted !!! well nearly i still need a tshirt but still very excitinggggg

[truthundressing]

i spend 20 minutes in a vintage store and come out with 4 new fav songs🧍

#skfjzjsk is it like criteria to be gay and have good taste in music to work there or smthn i swear it happens everytime lmao #finally got my outfit for my danny show sorted !!! well nearly i still need a tshirt but still very excitinggggg #AND the changing rooms in this place had a little sign above the mirror saying 'you look fit bestie x' #lmao and i only noticed it when i was literally just in my binder and jeans like yeah so true what a Look™️

[dannymayevent]

Great work @paper-glasses completing the daily calendar! It was great seeing all of the different art works you came up with!

This fic was created by @phandom-phriend for your day 29 prompt Heat

*tw mentions of death, parental fights

----

Ever since she saw those people on the TV screen with their loud instruments and voices, with their crazy hair colors and even wilder outfits, Ember knew she wanted, needed, to be part of that. Her parents were always quick to turn off the television when these bands came on, or change the radio station when something particularly loud or out of their comfort zones came on. But even at nine, that couldn’t stop Ember.

The second she had the chance, she found herself in the music room of her school. It wasn’t much, seeing as the school was for elementary students who couldn’t really grasp the idea of complexity quite yet, but she was desperate to get her small hands on something. Anything. The teacher was more than happy to help with her little hobby, taking the time to teach her things about rhythm and notes. Teaching her how each part worked to create the whole of what would later be heard on the radio by thousands.

Ember was entranced.

In middle school the very first thing she did was join the band. It wasn’t quite what she wanted, but even that tiny drum set served as the perfect outlet. Her parents had been fighting more and more lately, but because they were so absorbed in their own petty fights they didn’t even notice that she often returned home late from practice. It worked for her in that way, seeing as music still didn’t really seem to be their ‘thing’, but when she actually wanted for their eyes to look her way…

So Ember tried. She tried so hard to excel in all her classes, in her band performance, even in her chores to try and turn those angry glares into proud fondness like it used to be. Or maybe it was never like that and it was simply her child mind making the best of things. But it is a goal she strived to achieve in some sort of way from the moment she wakes up to the moment she goes to bed each night.

In the end, her grades slipped. Ember was still trying so hard, but it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t bring herself to focus on her studies the same way that she focused on music. No matter what she tried, she just couldn’t get the same joy from reading or equations that she got from beats and lyrics. Sitting in a classroom could never have the same appeal as being on a stage, but it seems that kind of logic doesn't work on teachers or state tests. Who knew?

In eighth grade, a friend of hers introduced her to the guitar. It was something her dad kept propped up in the living room corner. The previous times she had been over, Ember had thought the item was merely a decoration to ‘tie the room together’. But when he found Ember staring at it and offered to teach her, that was a moment she could never forget for the rest of her life.

Feeling those strings under her fingertips. The way her heart beat with each sound that strummed from the instrument with only a slight movement of her hand. The way it sent shivers down her spine with the absolute feeling of power and pride dancing in her veins with every new note. This was her instrument. The guitar called to her in a way that drums and flutes and clarinets never had. She knew that from that moment on, she would do everything in her grasp to keep this feeling with her.

At sixteen she is no longer in band, but instead choir. They had recruited her during freshman year and she found that she enjoyed singing just as much as she enjoyed the guitar. The freedom and range it gave her, the chances for solos and the spotlight. For all those eyes on her. Her parents never came to a show, but when the stage lights flashed in her eyes so that the crowd became nothing but shadows, it was easy to pretend they approved. To pretend things were okay and that she would see them after the show. To prove her worth was more on the stage than it could ever be on paper.

Now she is also working part time at some stupid diner. It’s totally not her scene with the overly stressed coworkers and the customers that pretend to know their jobs better than they do. The grease from the food and the same six songs playing during her long shifts aren’t quite the excitement she’s looking for. Not to mention the tacky uniform that totally clashes with her bright red curls…

So if she keeps waiting for a Help Wanted sign to appear in the window of the record shop across the street, who really needs to know?

But it pays well. Well enough that she finally, finally, gets what she’s been wanting for so long. An electric guitar of her very own, colors customized to shine perfectly in the spotlights glow. Holding that gem in her hands for the first time nearly brought her to her knees. This, this right here in her thin hands, is her legacy. This shop in this small town is going to be the start of something great, it’s just that no one else knows it yet.

At eighteen it’s her senior year and she refuses to graduate without doing something she deems herself as great. So without a second thought she signs up for some talent show with a grand prize of $5,000 and a record deal. She has to drive three states away and skip a few school days to make the auditions, but school work and attendance has never stopped her before.

A week later, she got an email congratulating her on making it into the first round.

And just like that she began to shoot up to the top like a rocket going to the depths of space. Ember won round after round after round. Sure, seeing the crying faces of her competition that got sent home wasn’t a good feeling. But the feeling of being so close to stardom, being recognized as one of the best, let those negative feelings be drowned out. They all may have had dreams, but she did too. And she wasn’t going to give hers up for anything or anyone.

And then

She

Won

She won the competition, driving all over the country to different venues to perform her way to the top all by herself. All those hours practicing, all those moments where she chose not to give in when the rest of the world told her to, lead up to this moment. This very moment where the gold and silver confetti falls from the ceiling accompanied by matching balloons. This moment where the judges she's seen face to face countless times over the course of this journey walk up to her with a golden trophy. This moment where she gets to choose which record label she wants to sign to.

This moment where she is truly free.

Then came time for her first live performance. Her hair all tied up, makeup done in a way to leave an impression. Outfit displaying all the power and ferocity within. This would be her debut song to the world. The first pillar after a long string of stepping stones leading her to the fame she has desired since she was small. Her parents still aren’t in the crowd, but that’s okay now. Now she has fans that watched her journey cheering her name. And the only way she plans to go is up.

Except that didn’t happen. Halfway through her song there was an… accident. One of the stage crew members didn’t properly put out their cigarette backstage and started a small fire. It could have been easily handled, but the assistant who found it panicked and fanned it with the papers they had been holding, unintentionally making the flames bigger.

By the time Ember realized the heat wasn’t from her workout of working her stage magic, but from the hidden flames backstage, it was already too late. The rope they had used in place of the rusted metal beam that once held one of the spotlights burned.

The rope burned and the light came tumbling down, down, down. All she could do was look up into it as the bulb flickered out. Look up and hope against all hope that this wasn’t it. That there would be more to her story.

“... But I woke up in the ghost zone instead of some hospital bed. Years had already passed by the time I manifested and everyone… everyone had already forgotten about me. Just another news story. Well, they did change the safety measures for stage performances after that. So I guess that’s a win.” Ember sighed, looking out at the stars above them. Sometimes it hurt to look at them, all twinkling and bright above her.

Sometimes she worries that one might fall.

“I’m… sorry, Ember.” Danny said sadly. He knew that all ghosts had their story, a reason they remained. But hearing them never got easier. The pain of having lost everything just to be stuck in some kind of in-between is a burden that feels like it’s too much to bear, but there is no escaping it either.

“It’s okay. Well, it’s not, but you don’t have to be sorry.”

“I wish I could help you.”

“Well, you could let me perform my hypnotizing show without issues.”

Danny laughed and shook his head. “Fat chance. Unless you can do it without the whole mind control thing, I don’t think that can work.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.” Ember laughed back before standing up “Well, maybe one tame show wouldn’t be so bad.”

The halfa stood up after her and smiled. “Then it’s a deal. The mayor owes me one, so I’m sure I can get you a great stadium attendance.”

“You know…. You’re not so bad, kid.”

“Neither are you.”

The two stayed silent for a moment, simply looking out to the stars, both of them thinking about their broken dreams caused by being a ghost. So many things were lost or taken from them. But that’s the funny thing about being broken, sometimes your edges line up with someone else's. Sometimes with someone you would never even expect.

#dannymay2020 #death mention #fic

[thelastspeecher]

Superhero/villain AU - Playdate

I was looking through my AU Word docs for Inspiration for Stanuary, and stumbled across this scene that I never finished.  So I decided to finish this scene.  It stars Emmett McGucket, who sort of inadvertently became the star of the Superhero/villain AU lmao.

Enjoy.

———————————————————————————————————–

              Emmett opened the door to his house.

              “C’mon in,” he said nervously.  Carter punched his arm.

              “You don’t need to be anxious around me, man.  Hell, I’m the one who should be nervous.  I might get to meet a famous supervillain.”

              “…Probably not,” Emmett said, stepping aside so that Carter could come in. “Ma’s at her day job and Uncle Lute got called in to help his crew.”

              “That’s unfortunate,” Carter remarked.  He entered the house.  “Oh, well. At least I get to meet your dad and your sisters.”  He grinned at Emmett.  “I’m a bit curious about whether they’re actually as wild as you say.  I mean, compared to you, just about anyone’s wild.” Emmett flushed.  “I’m just teasing, relax.”

              “Yeah, I, uh, I knew that,” Emmett said weakly.  He closed the door.  “I’m glad your mom said you could finally come over.  You didn’t get lost on the way, did ya?”

              “Nah.”

              “And did you walk or-”

              “I biked.”  Carter eyed Emmett.  “Do you really wanna talk about how I got here, or show off your house a bit?” Emmett smiled.

              “Good point.  My room’s upstairs.”

              “Awesome.  Oh, before you show me your room, my mom told me to bring something over.  Apparently that’s the nice thing to do or whatever. So…”  Carter removed his backpack and dug around in it.  “Ah ha!  Here!” He handed Emmett a large candle. “You can give that to your dad.”

              “When he gets home, I will.”  Emmett brought the candle into the kitchen and set it on the counter.  When he returned, Carter raised an eyebrow.

              “He’s not home?”

              “Nope.”

              “But…he’s a stay-at-home dad.  Where is he?”

              “He, uh, he had to go run some errands,” Emmett fibbed.

              “He’ll be back before I leave, though, right?”  Carter grinned at him.  “I’m starting to wonder if he doesn’t exist or something.  You’re so secretive about him.”

              “Nah, he exists.  He’s just a bit uncomfortable with the whole villain thing,” Emmett said with a shrug. Carter shook his head.

              “That’s so weird.”

              “Hey, Emmett!” a voice shouted from the second floor.  Footsteps thundered down the stairs.  Daisy stuck her head around the corner to stare at Emmett and Carter.  Her eyes widened.  “Ooh, you have a friend over?”

              “Yes,” Emmett said.  “Ma and Dad said it was okay.”

              “Hmm.”  Daisy approached the two boys.  She crossed her arms.  “You’re short,” she said flatly to Carter.  Carter grinned.

              “I’ve seen you guys’ mom before.  I’m not nearly as short as her.  Or as Tsunami.”

              “True.”  Daisy continued to look Carter up and down.

              “Did you want somethin’?” Emmett asked.  Daisy shrugged.

              “Yeah, but since you’ve got a guest, I’ll just harass Emily about it.” She burst into flames and flew away. Carter’s jaw dropped.  He turned to stare at Emmett.  Emmett smiled weakly.

              “I told you my sisters were all elementals.”

              “Yeah, but-”  Carter chortled.  “Man, I wish my family had cooler powers.  When we show off, it’s not nearly as fun.”  Emmett’s smile strengthened.  “Anyways, do you have any fun video games?”

              “I don’t really play many video games, but my dad and Danny like to play Need for Speed.”

              “Hell yeah!  Lead the way.”

-----

              The video game session was interrupted a few times by Emmett’s sisters, who were incredibly curious about his friend and not bothering to be polite about it.  Eventually, Emily settled down in Stan’s favorite armchair in the living room, silently reading a book on pyrotechnics and occasionally glancing over at Emmett and Carter, playing video games from the floor.

              “So, Emily, do you think you’ll be the next Sirocco?” Carter asked after winning yet another round.  Emily shrugged.

              “Maybe.  Depends on when Ma decides to retire.  I don’t wanna steal her codename while she’s still usin’ it.”  Emily turned a page in her book.  “Dunno if I’ll go the full villain route, though.”  Carter whipped his head around to stare at her.

              “What?  You’re thinking about being a non-villainous Sirocco?  That’s insane.”  Carter shook his head.  “See, this is why it was stupid that your parents didn’t send you all to Sycamore Grove. Now not all of you will be villains!”

              “Well, Dad’ll be happy about that, at least,” Emily muttered.  Carter set down his controller and leaned back against the couch.

              “This mysterious ‘dad’ again,” he drawled.  He looked at Emmett.  “Seriously, where is he?  He’s not doing a very good job of being a stay-at-home dad if he’s not home.”

              “He’s got other things to do,” Emily said.  “And we’re old enough to watch ourselves anyways.”

              “Fine, I’ll drop it,” Carter muttered.  He turned his attention back to the game.  “So, Emmett, you said all your sisters were elementals.  Emily’s an aerokinetic, what about the others?”

              “Danny’s a cryo, she gets that from our Ma’s grandma,” Emmett said.  “And Daisy’s a pyro, she gets that from Dad.”

              “Your dad’s a pyro?”

              “Yeah.”

              “Honestly, I didn’t even realize he was a super,” Carter commented.  “Why isn’t he a villain?  He married one and he’s got the right power for it.”

              “Not all supers are masks,” Emmett said.  “I mean, I don’t think I’ll wind up being a mask.”

              “But to marry a mask and not be one-” Carter started.  Emmett paused the game.  He looked at Carter.  “You guys are pretty touchy about this.”

              “Well, yeah,” Emily piped up.  “You think we haven’t heard this same line of questionin’ from Ma’s coworkers?”  After a moment, Carter nodded.

              “Fair point.  So-” Whatever else Carter was about to say was interrupted by a loud crash in the backyard.  “What the hell was that?” Carter asked, getting up.  Voices carried from outside.

              “You almost crushed me there, Pines.”  Emmett and Emily exchanged a look.

              That sounds like Uncle Lute.

              “Excuse me for not having a perfect landing while I’m bleeding out, Gucket,” Stan snapped.  Footsteps sounded on the back porch, which led directly into the living room via a sliding glass door.  The door opened.  “Who put the curtains down?”

              “Prob’ly one of-” Lute started, pulling back the curtain.  He paused, catching sight of Emily, Emmett, and Carter, who were all staring at him.  “Um.” Before anyone could say anything, Lute suddenly tumbled out of sight with a yelp.  “Son of a- Emily, get yer father off me ‘fore he flattens me.” Emily jumped to her feet.  As she went to help, Emmett grabbed Carter’s hand.

              “We should prob’ly go upstairs.”

              “What?  Why?” Carter asked.

              “This seems like something that we shouldn’t-” Emmett started.  Danny and Daisy raced down the stairs.

              “We saw Dad crash in the yard,” Danny said breathlessly.  “Is Ma-”

              “Yes, yer mother’s on her way, but right now, we need to move yer father to the couch,” Lute said, pulling the curtain open.  The action revealed Stan, unconscious and pale, being partially lifted by Emily.  And, to Emmett’s dread, his father was in his superhero outfit.

              “Come on, Carter, we need to get out of the way,” Emmett said, pulling Carter up from the couch and dragging him upstairs.  His power dampener beeped.  Once they reached the landing of the second floor, Carter pulled his hand free.

              “Did you try to control me?” Carter asked quietly.

              “What?  No!”

              “Your power dampener just lit up.”

              “I- sometimes when I get worked up- I still wear the dampener for a reason,” Emmett stammered.  Carter looked back down to the first floor.  “No!”  Emmett’s dampener beeped again, making him grimace.

              “What the hell is going on?” Carter demanded, still looking into the living room from above.  “Is that- is that your mom’s archnemesis?  That looks like Flamethrower.”  Emmett broke into a nervous sweat.  “Why did your uncle bring an unconscious superhero to your house?  And why-”  Carter’s eyes widened.  “Your uncle called him your dad.  So did your sister.  And you said your dad was a pyro, which Flamethrower is.”  Carter swore softly.  “Your dad…is Flamethrower?”

              “Can- can we talk about this in my room?”

              “Yeah.  Sure.”

-----

              Once Emmett had closed the door to his room, Carter looked at him expectantly.

              “Care to explain why your dad is a superhero?”

              “I…I don’t know, to be honest.”  Emmett crossed over to his bed and sat down.  Carter sat next to him.  “I told you the first day we met that I didn’t know how my parents met.  Which isn’t completely true – I know how they met. But I don’t know why they became a couple.  From what I understand, they didn’t get along for years, then, out of nowhere, they became a couple and had Danny and Daisy.”

              “What’s the exact timeframe here?” Carter asked thoughtfully.

              “Pardon?”

              “How long between your parents getting together and your older sisters being born?”

              “I…”  Emmett stared at his friend.  “Are you suggesting that my parents got together because my dad got my ma pregnant?”

              “It’s a possibility.”

              “But how would my sisters have gotten conceived if they were still enemies?”

              “Oh, like you haven’t noticed how steamy some fights get,” Carter scoffed. “You pin your enemy against a wall, their eyes stare directly into yours…”

              “Ugh!  Okay, I get it, just-”  Emmett grimaced.  “Stop makin’ me imagine that happening with my parents.”  Carter snickered.  “At the end of the day, though, the timeline isn’t important, and neither is the way my parents got together.  What’s important is that they’re married and love each other now.”

              “Yeah.”  Carter shook his head.  “That’s weird as fuck, man.  No wonder you’re always so cagey about your dad.”

              “If anyone found out…”  Emmett’s throat abruptly became choked up with fear.  “My uncle told me that, back when Danny and Daisy were still really little, one of Dad’s coworkers found out he married a supervillain.  The coworker went rogue and kidnapped Dad.  My ma rescued him, but it was a big mess.”  Emmett met Carter’s eyes.  “You can’t tell anyone.”

              “What would happen if I did?” Carter asked.  Emmett’s heart broke.  His expression must have shown this, because Carter quickly backpedaled.  “I won’t!  Sorry, I didn’t- I’m just so used to playing devil’s advocate that I said that without thinking.”

              “I don’t know what would happen.  But I would definitely never be able to see you again.”

              “Well, you don’t need to worry, ‘cause I won’t tell a soul,” Carter said firmly. Emmett smiled.

              “Thank you.”  There was a knock.  “Yes?” Danny opened the door.

              “Dad wants to talk to you and yer friend,” she said, looking directly at Carter with a cold gaze.  “Come on.” Emmett and Carter exchanged a look, then stood up and followed Danny downstairs.  Stan was on the couch, still wearing the bottoms to his heroing outfit, with a large bandage over much of his bared torso.  Thankfully, he was now awake and drinking a can of Pitt Cola.

              “Glad yer okay, Dad,” Emmett said quietly.  Stan grinned at him.

              “Takes a lot more than what happened today to put your old man out of commission.”  He looked at Carter.  “Sorry about ruining your playdate with Emmett.”

              “Dad!” Emmett yelped.  Stan chuckled.

              “I’m just teasing, sport.  Seriously though, Carter, this isn’t how I planned on meeting you.”

              “Shit happens,” Carter said with a shrug.  Stan nodded.

              “I like that attitude.”  His easygoing demeanor abruptly vanished.  Emmett swallowed, recognizing the stony expression on his father’s face.  Stan was shifting into what Emily called “take no shit mode”.  “Look, kid, you can’t tell anyone what you saw or think you saw today.”

              “Don’t worry, I already told Emmett I’d keep it a secret,” Carter said. Stan looked at him doubtfully.  “I don’t want to mess up my best friendship. Or anger one of the most powerful families in villainy.”  Stan nodded.

              “Smart.  Even if Angie and I have to go into hiding with the kids, the rest of her family won’t have to.  And you know exactly how dangerous the McGuckets are.”

              “Yes, sir.”

              “You’re giving me your word that you’ll keep my secret identity to yourself,” Stan said.  Carter nodded.  “I need you to say it, son.”  Emmett noted with some amusement that the way Stan said his last sentence reminded him of someone.  He glanced at Danny, who, judging by her expression, had also picked up on it.

              He sounded just like Grampie Gucket.  Carter, somehow not quailing under the force of Stan’s stare, nodded again.

              “I give you my word that I won’t tell anyone your secret identity, Emmett’s dad.”  Immediately, Stan left “take no shit mode” and chortled.

              “You can call me Mr. Pines, kid.  That’s what Emmett’s sister’s friends call me.”

              “Ah.  Okay. Mr. Pines.  Your secret is safe with me.”

              “Good.”  Stan got up from the couch, poorly stifling a groan of pain.  Danny crossed her arms, scowling.  “Princess, don’t give me that look.”

              “You shouldn’t be getting up, Dad.  If you need something, I can get it.”

              “Nope.  No dice.” Stan clapped Danny on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go call your ma to let her know I’m not unconscious anymore.”

              “Are my services as a human ice pack no longer needed, then?”

              “Yes, sweetie, you’re free to go.”

              “Great.”  Danny went back upstairs and ducked into her room.

              “Dad, I think Danny’s right,” Emmett said.  “You should be laying down.”

              “Nope!  You and your little friend can get back to playing.  Whattaya think for dinner?  Spaghetti? I gotta get started soon if it’s gonna be ready at a reasonable time.”

              “You’re making dinner?” Carter asked.  Stan raised an eyebrow.

              “I’m a stay-at-home dad when I’m not getting stabbed by villains.  Feeding my kids is my job.”

              “But you just got hurt.”

              “Eh.  I’ve had worse.”  Stan grinned. “My wife’s given me worse.”

              “Dad!” Emmett whined.  Stan chuckled.  He walked into the kitchen.

              “Why’s there some candle in here?”

              “My mom told me to bring a gift over,” Carter called.

              “Nice,” Stan said.  “Very classy.”  Carter looked at Emmett, amused.  Emmett shrugged.

              “He’s right.  Bringin’ that was pretty classy.”  Carter laughed and punched Emmett’s shoulder.

              “You’re funny, ‘Met.  C’mon, let’s get back to me kicking your ass at video games.”

#I also have a MerGucket scene I stumbled across that I never finished #I'm gonna try to finish that one up too at some point #so y'all might have some MerGucket content incoming #Superhero/villain AU #Emmett McGucket #Emily Pines #Stanley Pines #Lute McGucket #Danica Pines #Stangie Family #my writing #ficlet #speecher speaks

[blissfulalchemist]

"Why are you hiding behind me? What did you do?" + your choice!

Brace yourself Kate for some Second Gen Brains and Disaster!

“Danny! Hand me the tape,” I say dramatically, my hand outstretched to my brother. It remains empty as I turn to face him, his arms crossed and a frown on his face, “Danny I need the tape.”

“You know you don’t have to be so dramatic about it,” he rolls his eyes, “You didn’t even say please. Mom and Dad say you should always use your manners.”

I scoff, “Danny, hand me the tape, please,” grumbling I place my hand out again, Danny smiling placing the roll of duct tape in my hands. I turn to face the sink, stepping on the step stool, my brother coughing behind me, “Right,” I flash him an exaggerated smile, “Thank you oh wonderful brother of mine.”

“Again,” he says trying to hide the smile that’s come to his face, “no need to be dramatic.”

I wave him off, tearing off a piece that I think will be long enough to wrap around the handle of the hose leaning over the sink. The tape wraps around the handle nearly three times and I pull the hose up aiming for the drain, flipping the water on. It sprays out the hose and I smile putting it back in its place. Part three is complete, now to work on part five as all of this has to be set up a specific way to keep-.

“What are you two up too?” Danny and I both jump at the deep sound of Dad’s voice, seeing him stand in the doorway of the kitchen dressed in his “lazy” outfit as mom calls it. Its a loose pair of pants with a dark blue shirt, he could go to a casual interview as mom says therefore its not lazy like her fuzzy pajama bottoms. He takes a sip from the mug he’s brought with him, “Liz,” he asks again, “what are you two up too?”

“Uhm,” I should just tell him the truth or well part of it really, what he doesn’t know won’t kill him, “Well Danny and I didn’t like the prank that Uncle John pulled on Wessy last week so we’re gonna get him back when he comes to pick up Boomer Jr..” 

Danny nods along with me as our father’s eyes land on him, he’s always been the worse liar between the two of us, “Yeah. He’s gonna get covered in water.”

Dad cocks an eyebrow looking between the two of us, “How so Danny?”

He specified which means it’s up to Danny to sell this, how I wish he wasn’t so much like Mom sometimes. “Well you know in the movies people turn on the sink and then the water comes from the hose,” Dad nods along slowly, “Well that’s what we did.”

I give Dad a smirk as he looks me over, no doubt trying to see if there’s more to this plan, there is but he’s not going to find out about it. “It’s going to be just water?” Danny and I glance over quickly, nodding. He studies us a little more before giving a small nod, “Just make sure to warn your mother if she comes back early.”

Danny and I nod, “Yes sir,” we assure him in unison.

The two of us leave to find something to do while we wait for Dad to go back upstairs to finish up whatever work he gave himself. Danny settles on the paper and crayons, passing a note to me, You sure we should be doing this?. I nod, this wasn’t going to get anyone hurt. It was just meant for some fun….and no I still wasn’t alright with the prank Uncle John did to Wessy. I look up from the book I picked up blindly, watching as Dad makes his way up the stairs slowly to the office. “Keep out of trouble you two,” he calls out, “I’ll know about it pretty quickly.”

I listen to the creaks of the house settle into the office, making sure there’s no chance of them coming back. I pat Danny on the arm, “Let’s go!” We rush quietly to the pantry pulling out the bucket filled with clear glue, Danny pulling out the bag of rainbow feathers. “So we need to get the feather bag set up first, then the glue bucket, and then make sure-.”

“Liz,” Danny interrupts, “Don’t you think this is a little much for just a small water prank?”

I narrow my eyes slightly, “Hey I already compromised on the flour for you. Besides, it’ll teach Uncle John a lesson.”

Danny shakes his head, “More like traumatized,” he lets out a slow breath, “Come on let’s get this set up before they get here.”

“Trust me, it's going to be just fine.”

The bucket proved the hardest to get right as two small children with a weighted bucket doesn’t make for an easy time. Us being on the shorter side didn’t help much either, but we eventually got it into place, locking up Boomer Jr. in the laundry room as to not tip Dad off to the whole scheme, or worse Wessy’s poor pupper getting the glue. “Shhhh, it’s only for a little bit and I promise I will get you a nice steak and bone,” I assure the small dog, with his too big paws.

I grab Danny’s hand pulling him behind the couch, pulling out the old baby camera monitor. “How long do you think it’ll be?”

“Well John is never late, and he said four o’clock,” I glance up to the digital one by the front door, “And it’s five minutes until then.” 

“And you’re sure he’s not going to get hurt?”

“Positive,” we scooch closer together waiting for the sound of John’s car pulling up our driveway. Four o’clock on the dot and Danny and I hear the engine shut off, smiles coming to our faces, eyes transfixed on the screen in front of us. We giggle as we hear the splashing outside, John having been tripped into the small pool of water. 

“Doesn’t Raf make them keep this place clean,” we heard John say, the two of us looking to the other confused, I thought he was supposed to be alone.

Wessy’s muffled laughter comes through the walls, “He does, so it’s probably for the prank you pulled last week.”

“Liz, Wes isn’t supposed to be here,” Danny whispers to me, “What if he gets the prank and not John? What do we do?” 

“Uhm,” I wrack my brain for ways to spin this, hope to distract Wessy, “Just trust me okay.”

The door handle turns, “I’m sure Liz can’t wait to get that video on the internet for all to see,” John says the door opening slowly, Danny and I holding our breaths. The door swings open the bucket falling as it should right on top of John, “Wes!” We cover our mouths holding back the laughter watching as John wipes away some of the clear glue. Our laughter stops as Wes steps through the door, some of the glue falling onto him, for the time being it seems he doesn’t notice. 

Danny looks at me eyes wide, “Must have watered down some dish soap,” I watch as Wessy makes his way to the sink, I grab Danny’s arm.

“Run,” I whisper, the two of us making for a silent break for the stairs, hearing the water turn on and Wessy’s yelp of surprise. I glance down to the screen running face first into Dad who’s waiting at the top of the stairs, “Dad!”

“I heard John fall down outside,” he has a smile on his face as he makes the trip back down the stairs, Danny and I in tow, “Let’s go see if he’s okay.” My stomach turns as I hear the crash of two bodies hitting the floor, both of them must have hit the oil. We make it to the bottom of the stairs and I can hear John’s voice grumble something that doesn’t sound like it’s meant to be funny. Danny looks over to me wide eyed, a quick nod and we’re both hiding behind Dad moving with him. He turns between us confused, “Why are you hiding behind me?” 

“No reason,” I spurt out on instinct, ducking hearing as Wessy falls back to the ground, spotting the first few feathers fall into the living room.

Dad’s eyes spot them, fixating on me quickly, “What did you do?” I look to the ground holding the tablet close to me, “Liz-,” he starts when the music begins to blast. “Yakety Sax” fills the house, as the two grown men in the kitchen groan, Dad making his way quickly to the kitchen. Danny and I are on his heels, peeking out from behind his safety. 

My eyes go wide seeing the feathers strewn across the kitchen, John covered in most of them. There’s a trail of glue on the ground from where John walked, the bucket having fallen at some point to the ground. Wessy and John lie next to each other, Wes now sporting a wet shirt while Uncle John has come to resemble a wet rainbow chicken. We may have put too much oil on the ground than was needed. I look to the tablet in my hands still, hitting the rewind button. Seeing the prank play out in full is an experience, watching the two of them falling and slipping from the oil, John managing to fall into the pile of feathers and then proceeding to roll around in them trying to get him and Wessy upright again, well, I can’t help but hold back the laughter, passing it over to Danny. 

His covered mouth is no longer in horror but one of suppressing his laughter, Dad turning to face us. He takes the tablet from us playing back the last few minutes, his face gradually turning from anger to amusement as he watches my masterpiece. He starts to laugh Wessy finding a way to move about the kitchen to get the music to stop. 

“I’m glad you find this amusing Rafael,” John growls sitting up, “Wes and I are far from amused.” 

I see the smirk on Wessy’s face behind Uncle John’s back, “They’re just kids John,” Dad defends, saving three copies of the video including the one from outside, “Just having a little fun. Defending their uncle’s honor.” 

I beam seeing the wink Dad gives us, “Surely there will be some sort of punishment,” John argues, finally managing to stand again, “This feels a bit extreme for revenge of a simple water prank.”

“Don’t worry they will both be responsible for the clean up,” Danny and I shrink back, “while I think of something a little more fitting to make sure they never do this again.” I give a small shrug to Danny, we both knew it was going to be me getting the worst of it since I was the mastermind. Though based on the smile on Dad’s face I doubt he’ll give us some sort of punishment or lecture at all. 

“You got some spare clothes?” Wessy asks, his hand finally feeling the glue in his hair shaking his head, “Maybe borrow your shower too?”

“Of course,” Dad says, holding his hand out, “Let me show you.” Once Wessy and uncle John are in the safety of the living room does dad turn back to Danny and I, “You two know where the supplies are, so get to work.” We nod, stepping carefully to the sink grabbing the bucket under it. 

Danny works in silence scrubbing the floor where the glue fell, while I hum “It’s a Hard Knock Life” as I try to get the oil cleaned first. The first shower stops and the scratching at the laundry door starts, “Oh,” I stand opening the door, “I’m sorry Boomer Jr. I didn’t mean to keep you in there.” He’s getting too big for me to carry properly, but I don’t want him slipping on anything, I already had one accidental victim. “Your dads are upstairs,” I tell him pointing to the stairs, “So go get ‘em!” 

The dog bounds up the stairs, Wessy calling out to him first as he picks him up in his arms I’m sure. It’s Wessy that comes down the stairs first, Boomer Jr. in his arms, “You know next time, mind giving me a bit of warning?”

“We didn’t think you’d be here Uncle Wes,” Danny says softly.

“Yeah we didn’t mean for you to get involved with it,” I say apologetically, “Sorry we got glue in your hair and your jacket Wessy, and that you kept slipping on the oil.”

“Yeah,” Danny says, his head hanging, “Sorry you got hurt Uncle Wes.” 

Wessy’s pupper licks his face, “Don’t worry about it. It was funny to watch John in that situation.” He takes in Danny’s face, “Hey buddy,” Wessy moves kneeling in front of Danny, “I’m okay. No need to be upset about it.”

“We still hurt you though and we didn’t mean too,” I go to Danny, putting an arm around him.

Wessy tilts his chin up to look him in the eye, “Look at me Danny,” my heart falls seeing my brother’s eyes misting over, “I’m okay. No harm, no foul. I know you didn’t mean too. It was an accident and accidents happen.” 

It doesn’t seem to make him feel better as I hug him closer to me, “Hey, Danny,” I start picking my words carefully, “What if Wessy promises that he gets to play one prank on us so then it's even. Does that sound fair?” Danny gives a small shrug, biting his lower lip before nodding, “Do you promise to get us back Wessy? Make it even?”

Wessy gives a small smile, holding out a pinky towards us, “Pinky promise,” I roll my eyes, only old people use pinky promises anymore, but I lace my smaller finger around his Danny following suit. “There it’s settled then. Now give me and Boomer Jr. a hug,” he pulls us closer to him, all of us getting pupper kisses, Danny laughing again. 

Uncle John makes his way down the stairs, “I’ll be waiting by the car Wes,” he calls out as I notice the clothes he’s wearing.

I pull away from Wessy, “Did you guys use the clothes in the dresser in the guest bedroom?” My heart starts to race as I wait for Wes to nod, eyes going wide when he does, “Uncle John wait!” I run to the front door, already hearing him scream.

“Liz what’s wrong?” Wes asks, easily beating me to the door, “What did you do?”

“I saw it in a movie,” I wince hearing the bark of our neighbor’s dog, “I didn’t know if it was going to work but well after this fiasco,” I gesture to the kitchen, “I forgot about part six.” 

“Part six,” Wes questions, opening the door, John’s voice louder as he tries to look for higher ground, the golden retriever jumping biting at him.

“I uh, saw some kids in an old movie soak a man’s underwear in meat,” I give a small laugh with a sheepish smile.

“Wes! Help me!” 

I hold my hands up, “In my defense I didn’t think it was going to actually work.”

Wes shakes his head, sighing, putting his dog on the ground to distract the neighbor dog, “What are we ever going to do with you Liz?” Wes let out a laugh hearing Uncle John call out to him once more, “I’m coming. Calm down. It’s just a dog.”

#lizette eden oc #brains and disaster #I was extra productive today! but this was too fun to write! #Sorry john-o! #brotp: prepare for trouble n make it double

[artificialqueens]

A Clownfish & A Mermaid (5/?): Snatched! (Biadore) - doctor bitchcraftt

Anonymous request from AQ: “I love your fic of Bianca playing Adore for snatch game on bots, could you write one where Adore surprises Bianca by coming out as her? Maybe Bianca is being the host and doesn’t know till Adore appears.”

A/N: Keeping it non-AU by having it take place before Adore left for AS2, because as far as I remember she did have Bianca as her backup character for Snatch Game. And oh how I wish we’d been able to see that…  A little bittersweet, because we know Adore didn’t stay for Snatch Game.

Regarding Bianca’s waist measurement: her dress form is a 12, which has a 29-30 inch waist; additionally, it’s quoted as 28 in an article from years ago and she looks to be about the same size now.  Xoxoxoxo, bitchcraftt

********

“Show me what else you’ve got?”

Bianca lounged on the couch surrounded by piles of drag and half-packed suitcases.  Still in drag after hosting a show, she’d ignored the stare from the Uber driver (typical) and his awkward attempts at flirting (not typical), and blown through the door at full force to find Adore already spreading her chaos across every available surface.

NDA or not, Danny’s excited call a couple of days ago about accepting All Stars 2 made it clear that the planning had to include Bianca.  Roy kept his mouth shut at the objections he desperately wanted to voice - fallout from Danny' losing his dad, amongst other things - and promised his support in any way possible.

They’d spent the better part of the last two hours going through Adore’s drag, matching items to the list as best as they could and trying to guess what the challenges might entail.  Vintage shopping yesterday netted a gorgeous purple sequined shift that would go wonderfully with her crimped lavender wig, and they’d agreed on a half dozen other looks already before test driving for Snatch Game.  Adore’s Snatch Game needed to be strong, even stronger than her season six Anna Nicole Smith if possible.  Without Bianca and DeLa giving her a run for her money, she should be a standout.  Her first choice seemed decent, but having a backup option was always a good idea.

Danny had briefly complained about having to go into full drag and face for each look, but there was no way to get a complete opinion otherwise.  Because of that, she’d insisted that Bianca not watch her prep so that she would be able to give advice on the final product.  

Bianca was prepared to loan her anything she needed, and tried to guess what the character would be based on Adore banging around her closet and cursing.  After twenty minutes, Adore’s voice drifted around the corner.

“Close your eyes!”

“Really?"  Bianca rolled them instead.

"I want it to be a surprise!”  

She’d teased that it was another queen, and Bianca tried to picture her dressed as Alyssa or Laganja in things garnered from her own extensive wardrobe.  Although, Adore did have a wicked DeLa voice…

“Fine, they’re closed.”

The sound of heels clicking nervously on the hardwood heralded Adore’s arrival, tapping to a stop on the carpet in front of the couch.

“ ‘Kay, you can open them.”

Bianca blinked a few times, shook her head in disbelief, and tried to find her voice.

“You like it?"  

Adore had borrowed a pair of Bianca’s platform pumps covered in jet black rhinestones, and her nude fishnets showed where she held the weighted hem up.  Above that, she was corseted tighter than ever before over actual padding, clad in a fitted black velvet cowl-neck sleeveless gown with oversized sequin flowers pinned at the shoulder and hair piled up to ridiculous heights.  Was that five wigs? An assortment of sparkly bangles and large bracelets worked their way up from her wrists to almost the elbows on both arms.  To top it off, Adore had picked Bianca’s most obnoxious chandelier earrings to accompany the exaggerated eyes and what had to be eight pairs of lashes.

She clutched a throw pillow in front of herself, cocked a hip, and grinned before schooling her face into a disapproving frown.  

"NOT TODAY SATAN!"

Bianca opened and closed her mouth a few times, before starting at the floor and making her way up with a critical eye. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the clink of bangles as Adore fidgeted.  

"Well fuck me,” Bianca managed at last.

”…was that a good fuck me?”

As she watched nervously, Bianca’s blank expression transformed into a howl of laughter, raspy cackle filling the room.  Unable to speak through it, she flailed wildly.  Adore’s smile drooped a bit on the edges, face gone anxious.  Her posture melted into a slouch, vaguely ridiculous given the silhouette of her outfit.

”…okay, I get it.  I look fucking stupid, and I’ll -“

Bianca pushed off the couch, catching her hand before she could do more than turn.  

“N- no!  Don’t!  It’s…fucking…hee hehehe hee hee- oh my fuck it’s perfect!”

“Yeah?”

“Lemme hear what you’ve got planned."  This should be something else.

Adore scowled, dropping her voice and rolling her eyes.  "I ain’t got time for this.  Beat it queen!  Need help packin’ ?”

”Fuck you bitch, I do not sound like that!  You sound like you’re gargling gravel in there.”  After a night of yelling at a crowd her own voice was scratchy and rough, and Bianca couldn’t hold a straight face.  “All right fine, maybe I do.”

She pulled her into the drag room to stand side by side in the mirror, ignoring how the usually neat racks of dresses looked like a tornado touched down.  Without her own heels on she was the better part of a foot shorter than Adore, but together they looked like Bianca standing next to some of the more accurate fan art.  Seeing her own signature evening gown on Adore’s body set her off again.

”Adore Del Rio,” she giggled, dabbing at her eyes, “this might be the best fucking thing I’ve ever seen.  Including Anna Nicole.”

“Really?“  

"Not when you stand with your mouth open like that,” Bianca teased, nearly losing it again when Adore stuck her tongue out.  

“Put your hand on your hip.  No, like this,” Bianca repositioned Adore’s arm and tugged her knee until her right leg crossed in front of the left, bent slightly.  “Emphasizes the hips, it looks more feminine like that.”

“We won’t be doing runway like this, I’ll fucking trip over the hem.  I hope?"  

“You wanna be prepared.  And you’re taller so it won’t hit the floor…Visage is going to love that."    

The sequined flower was perfect and she didn’t need a necklace, but… “Here.”  She pulled the bracelets off and dug back into the jewelry drawers, discarding some and adding others to the pile.  She slipped them back onto Adore’s wrist sorted by color, switching the smaller beads for chunkier ones.  “Exaggerated but still detail oriented.”  

A second pair of less garish earrings followed, Bianca’s signature hoops with colored beads.  “In case you wanna use them for something else.  Now sit.”  She nudged her down in front of the vanity, picking up eyeshadow.  "Gotta get you beyond clown."

Frowning in concentration, she gripped Adore’s chin gently to hold her steady and reached for a lipliner.  "Your lips are full enough, don’t overdraw, just make the Cupid’s bow curved right here."  Adore had done a good job reproducing her eyes, although the liner was a bit more winged than Bianca would wear it.   Punk rock style or not, Danny was a talented makeup artist and the Bianca face only needed a little bit of adjustment.  “Raccoon territory next.  You need to avoid too much color on the lids.”  With a few deft strokes, she painted even darker eyes and added more white to the bottom lids before making the beauty mark bigger.

Once satisfied that the face was right, Bianca collected a few items - two shades of gloss, new packages of lashes - and zipped them into a cosmetic bag with the earrings for Adore to pack.  "Stack them fresh, you don’t want to wear someone else’s lashes, who knows-”

“Yes mom."  Her tone of voice implied that this was yet another lecture.  "I know, but they’re yours so…"  She wilted a little under Bianca’s unimpressed stare.  "Okay fine, but it’s not like I’m gonna get eye herpes from them.”

Moving up from the face, Bianca studied the auburn curls tenuously balanced on her head.  Frowning, she pulled it apart to set three of the five wigs aside, teased and re-pinned, then nodded decisively.

“Forget you trying to do this in the workroom.  Let me style you a full wig so it’s ready to go.”

Adore nodded and stood, leaning on the table for support.  Bianca narrowed her eyes when she noticed that she seemed to be slightly out of breath.

”Can you breathe in that?”

”Yeah?”

“That shouldn’t be a question.  You need to be able to sit for an hour, you remember what it was like.  Show me how you’re cinched.”  When Adore seemed reluctant, Bianca bent to hike up the skirt of the gown, waiting until Adore took the fabric from her before peeling the dress up her midsection (thank goodness for stretch velvet) to reveal the corset.  

"Adore.” The gently chiding tone was worse than annoyance.  “You’re not Chachki for fuck’s sake.  We can get rid of some of that padding and loosen it up."  While she spoke, Bianca turned Adore around to untie the laces before unzipping the front to reveal angry red welts where the boning strained around her waist.  Sighing, she pulled the tights down enough to work the pads out from underneath.  

"But…” Adore protested, “your waist is so small!”

“It’s about proportion.  You’ve got enough to cinch in without the pads. Just make your tits a little bigger, squeezing down to this isn’t going to even show when you’re sitting behind a table."  Bianca searched on the side table for a tape measure, wrapping it around her own waist.  "I’m 29 corsetted, 30 with the gown.  I only take two inches off.”

“I wanna get it right."

The muttered comment seemed more weighted than just a corset disagreement and Bianca paused with her hands on Adore’s hips.  "Pussyface?

"It’s…” Adore met her eyes, more serious than she’d been the entire night.  “I don’t want to disappoint you.  What if I fuck this up?"

"Hey."  Even with the heels, Bianca still needed to tip Adore’s chin up to make eye contact.  "You’re gonna be amazing, you hear me?  They’re lucky to have you, and it doesn’t matter what happens on some reality tv show filmed in RuPaul’s basement.  You could go home the first week and I’d still be proud of you for going back in to that fucking shark pit.”

Adore was silent while Bianca zipped her back up and smoothed the dress back down.  Bianca turned her to face the mirror again, and was relieved to see the small smile.  

“Really, pussyface,” she felt the need to repeat, “I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

#rpdr fanfiction #bianca del rio #adore delano #biadore #clownfish mermaid #fluff #canon compliant #doctor bitchcraftt

[vinyloftheyear-blog]

Vinyl of the Year 2017

It’s that time of year once again for a music recap! I know I’ve pretty much abandoned the “First Impressions” thing, but I realized that I prefer to let my opinions ferment for some time and serve them up all at once at the end of the year, so that’s what I’ll be doing instead from now on--and in lieu of those posts being reminders of what albums I like, I made a “Best of 2017” playlist out of selected songs from my favorite records of the year. You can listen to it here on Google Play.

I’ve done my album rankings a bit differently this year as well: I’ve compiled a Short List of every album that had at least one song I liked on it, and I’ll be going through all of them one at a time, getting a bit more descriptive the higher up the list I go.

Here’s the Short List, sorted roughly by release date:

And without any further introduction, let’s do this!

36. Joji - In Tongues EP

Joji is George Miller aka Filthy Frank aka Pink Guy’s moniker for more-serious music, and his record debut is a collection of mellow, lo-fi beats with some shallow lyrics on top. I like some of the sounds on here, especially the ukulele sampling on Worldstar Money, but overall this just sounds like any other amateur lo-fi artist on SoundCloud.

35. Electric Guest - Plural

Electric Guest’s second album features more indie-pop tunes, most of which are completely forgettable in the sea of similar music--but Oh Devil and Back For Me are a couple of rare exceptions that return with the magic and groove of their much-better first record.

34. XXXTENTACION - 17

After hearing about how X seriously abused his ex-girlfriend, I pretty much gave up on liking him and instead hope his mental health improves. The 20-minute album he released is mostly some super-low-effort “I’m depressed” music, but the one stand-out track is Jocelyn Flores, and that’s much more thanks to the potsu song it heavily samples. So at least I can thank X for introducing me to potsu before I never listen to him again.

33. Migos - CULTURE

The Atlanta trap trio climbed to the top of the game with this album, and Bad and Boujee will be remembered for a long time for popularizing their flow and production style (provided by Metro Boomin), for better or worse. T-Shirt is another catchy track with a wonderfully unique flow throughout, but the album pretty much drops off after that for me.

32. SZA - Ctrl

SZA’s debut full-length album is critically acclaimed as a soulful and personal take on modern urban romance and the role she takes in it. I can appreciate the album for that, but it’s not really a concept that I can connect with personally, so this album doesn’t stick with me like it did others. However, the songs with more blatant concepts like The Weekend and Doves in the Wind are more replayable--especially the latter, with its hilarious Kendrick Lamar feature.

31. Mount Eerie - A Crow Looked At Me

I really think this album should be labeled ‘FOR EMOTIONAL EMERGENCIES ONLY’. As the listener, you are taken through what is effectively just cathartic music-therapy for Phil Elverum after the very recent death of his wife, Genevieve. No deepy-contemplated lyrics or music here, just somber mostly-guitar ballads with very straightforward “lyrics” on top about his personal thoughts on various aspects of his life now that she is gone. It’s hardly music, but it’s not for the faint of heart--the first song, Real Death, however, is a good summary of the album’s aesthetic for those who don’t want to sob for 40 minutes.

30. Open Mike Eagle - Brick Body Kids Still Daydream

OME is very hit-or-miss in my opinion: he is capable of some excellent flows and lyricism, and can really knock it out of the park with the right production behind him. This album didn’t completely hit--it was mostly too slow, and I admittedly don’t like it when he sings sometimes--but Tldr (Smithing) and Brick Body Complex both had enough of a driving beat to keep me listening.

29. Pink Guy - Pink Season

I was honestly surprised when the In Tongues EP came out that it didn’t have production nearly as good as Pink Season’s: regardless of whatever offensive thing he raps on top, Pink Guy has several solid beats on this album, especially in the food-based songs where the raps are more typical and less off-the-wall raunchy. Adding a few comedic diamonds in the rough, like She’s So Nice and Small Dick, makes the album worth coming back to every so often.

28. The Shins - Heartworms

The Shins have really carved out their own bubbly-indie-rock niche in music and made themselves comfortable, and Heartworms is no departure from that in the slightest. The result is an album that’s both easy to enjoy but hard to really celebrate. A few stand-out tracks are Rubber Ballz, Name For You, and Mildenhall, which each have a slightly different tone, but belong well within the Shins’ signature aesthetic.

27. Portugal. The Man - Woodstock

It must have been one hell of a year for PTM since they’ve gone from a lesser-known indie-rock group to Top 40 hitmakers, since it’s been weird to hear Feel It Still on the radio even as a fan of theirs. Besides that song and a couple others though, Woodstock just feels like a more popped-up and watered-down version of the slightly-less popped-up and watered-down Portugal that I grew to like when Evil Friends released.

26. Alt-J - RELAXER

The indie-rock powerhouse returned this year with a woefully underwhelming third album, stuffed with nicely-composed but lullaby-worthy tracks following in the wake of the more ambient sounds from their second record. In Cold Blood is by and large the standout track, bringing back the punchy rock feel and dynamic shifts that made An Awesome Wave so catchy and groundbreaking. Deadcrush also lends to this with its tough drum beat, but beyond that, a strange and ill-fitting attempt at garage-rock, and a much gentler cover of House of the Rising Sun, this album can be missed with no regrets, even for an Alt-J fan.

25. San Fermin - Belong

The eight-piece baroque-pop outfit came to my attention when opening for Alt-J live, and their infectious stage presence and unique ensemble led me to find their studio recordings, which were good in concept but unfortunately poorly-mixed for the most part. Their newest record, however, seems to be mixed and recorded much better, with songs like Dead and Cairo bringing that live energy properly into my earphones. Many tracks are good enough but a bit poppy and smooth for my taste, like Belong, but overall this is a great album for anybody who wants more horns and violins in their pop music.

24. N.E.R.D. - NO ONE EVER REALLY DIES

N.E.R.D. finally explains their name on their latest album, which still brings the experimental genre-mixing hip-hop that got them their initial fame, but the experiments seem to be overcooked a bit: there are some interesting samples and beats here, even going so far as combining an 80s new wave style beat with a Future feature on 1000, but most of the songs drag the beats out too long for me to stay interested. Lemon is an exceptional standout track, with one of the bounciest beats of the whole year, and Rihanna with an unprecedented rap feature.

23. Mac DeMarco - This Old Dog

The New York indie-rocker popularized his own “slacker rock” genre with his excellent album Salad Days, and This Old Dog proves that Mac is still the master of his own domain. He branches out his song foundations on this record to include acoustic guitar and piano, among other things, but maintains the psychedelic guitars and wavy synths that characterize his style. His lyrics also get more somber and personal than usual, a rare side to Mac’s music that slows it down a bit too much for my liking, but not enough that this album should be ignored.

22. Gorillaz - Humanz

Pretty much all of the singles from Humanz were great examples of genre-defying instrumentals with fitting rap features on top--Vince Staples does an awesome job on Ascension, DRAM gives Andromeda a nice bit of depth, and Let Me Out is a wonderful gospel-rap-fusion track with Pusha T and Mavis Staples (and the album’s De La Soul and Danny Brown features are good too). Unfortunately, the rest of the album is overloaded with production so all-over-the-place you can never stay immersed for more than a little while before you’re either bored or confused.

21. Smino - blkswn

The underground St. Louis rapper’s debut album is full of wavy beats that have a neo-R&B feel to them, similar to Chance the Rapper or Noname’s recent work, and flows in his own slightly-off-kilter sometimes-singing-sometimes rapping style. The whole album is definitely worth a listen, but most of the tracks are a little too off-balance in their beats and rhythms to really stick; the flow overtakes the underlying rhythm and makes it sound messy. Some tracks, however, like Blkoscars, Innamission, and Spitshine, strike a much better balance--and the soulful final track Amphetamine makes a wonderful closer, especially with Noname’s feature.

20. Vallis Alps - Fable EP

The Australian electropop duo released another EP that is wonderful in every sense of the word, with the only true crime being its short length. As with their self-titled EP, Fable is loaded with glittering synths and Parissa Tosif’s beautifully-airy voice on the high end, with driving percussion in varying amounts to balance it out and change the tone. Sometimes the composition is a little samey, like the repetitive chords in East and Fading, but that doesn’t stop me from coming back.

19. Lorde - Melodrama

Lorde needs no introduction at this point, and her newest album chronicling a relationship and subsequent breakup brings more of her personal side out, which is a welcome change--but the tone of the album is much more poppy, and most of Lorde’s characteristic darkness is washed out. Tracks like Homemade Dynamite and The Louvre show how the production behind her has improved and diversified, filling in the gaps in her old minimalist music quite nicely, but it is a balance that not a lot of the album strikes.

18. Foster the People - Sacred Hearts Club

Foster the People went much more electronic for their newest installment, bringing to the front lines what was once just some background effects. In many ways the change is great for the dancey energy of the band’s music, like in Doing It For the Money and Pay the Man, but other times it just makes the songs less interesting. The rare punk-rock track Lotus Eater also brings the band’s typical energy with a welcome new style that I hope to see more of in future albums.

17. Sufjan Stevens, Nico Muhly, Bryce Dessner, James McAlister - Planetarium

Stories of eponymous Roman myths with Sufjan’s poetic twist are sung through several effects on top of grandiose and often-overwhelming production throughout this technically-huge album. The main setback of this record is its length and overindulgence in its composition, like a musical all-you-can-eat that just keeps coming (and it’s a slight thorn in my side that the track order seems meaningless). In moderate doses though, tracks like Jupiter and Mars serve up lots of beautiful soundscapes with interesting dynamic shifts throughout.

16. 21 Savage, Metro Boomin, Offset - Without Warning

The back end of 2017 saw the release of several collaboration albums between various trap artists and producers--and this surprise Halloween-themed album is the only one worth coming back to. Metro Boomin provides beats that are as spooky as they are sticky for 21 Savage to rap on, but Offset is the true star of the album, bringing crazy flows that amplify the groove of the whole record, especially on Ric Flair Drip and Ghostface Killers.

15. Tame Impala - Currents B-sides & Remixes

The remixes on this album are okay, but it mostly has this rank because of its bonus material from my 2015 Vinyl of the Year. The three tracks sound from a time between Lonerism and Currents, where real drum beats dominate the driving percussion but synth leads take over the instrumental. List of People (To Try and Forget About) and Taxi’s Here are both excellent tracks that are better than some that actually made it to the real Currents, but I’m happy they hold their own separately, too.

14. Fleet Foxes - Crack-Up

Fleet Foxes continuously push the boundaries of folk music to new heights, and this album is no different, featuring an impressive amount of dynamic switches (especially in I Am All That I Need / Arroyo Seco / Thumbprint Scar), strange time signatures, and of course the characteristically-angelic harmonies and ambient guitars. Third of May / Ōdaigahara is the best blend of complexity and accessibility that Fleet Foxes has yet produced, with the rest of the album leaning a bit heavy toward the former, but I’m excited to see what they’ll do next.

13. Father John Misty - Pure Comedy

The ex-Fleet Fox brings another dose of well-composed irony to the record press, this time focusing the negative energy of Americans everywhere in 2017 into a concentrated mass of pure sarcastic cynicism. The theatrical compositions Father John is known for get even better on this record as he places it in the modern age by singing about having VR-sex with Taylor Swift and updating his status one last time before dying. The result is a wonderfully relatable and over-the-top message about the folly of man and just how funny it can all be sometimes.

12. Jaden Smith - SYRE

I still can’t take Jaden seriously after this album came out, but the production on it is so good it makes me almost wish I could. Lido’s beats and instruments, especially in the opening medley BLUE, are impressive enough that they bring up the album quality by themselves, and while Jaden’s lyrics range from platitudinous to cheesy to insane, his flow is usually a pretty good fit with the beats, so not all is lost--though he could stand to use the triplet-style a little less.

11. Richard Dawson - Peasant

If Lord of the Rings is high fantasy and Game of Thrones is gritty low fantasy, then Peasant is scraping the bottom of the barrel. Dawson’s folk songs each discuss a different story from 6th-century Britain, most dealing with brutal subjects like a child prostitute or a poor beggar losing his dog. The compositions are also period-authentic with amazingly erratic guitar work and some modern production scattered throughout, for a wonderfully unique and just-accessible-enough blend of old and new.

And now, on to the Top 10!

10. The National - Sleep Well Beast

I heard rumors that this album would be more electronic before it came out, and I was hoping for more of a 22, A Million-type situation combined with Matt Berninger’s characteristically deep and smooth vocals. That did not happen (yet) but this album is still a great addition to the National’s catalogue, bringing their downtempo slow-burners like Guilty Party alongside more traditional tracks like Day I Die--a welcome change from their slightly-too-mellow previous record. The National also had their own foray into faster rock music with Turtleneck, which gives the album a nice dynamic change.

9. Vince Staples - Big Fish Theory

Quick disclaimer: I have yet to listen to Vince’s earlier and more-acclaimed album Summertime ‘06, so I can’t really discuss comparisons to it--but in a vacuum, Big Fish Theory is a grimy, groovy rap record in all the right places. Dirty industrial beats carry Vince’s top-notch flow while he raps about darker perspectives on fame and his current position. A lot of tracks are repetitive--sometimes making the song catchier and increasing overall bump-ability, other times dragging it out into a monotone--but both are seemingly by design, which shows that the producers really know their stuff, though I hope that Vince branches his sound out somewhat in his next (or previous) records.

8. Sampha - Process

This album is a real masterpiece of electrosoul: lyrically founded on Sampha’s personal struggles and tragedies, and musically ranging between punchy drums and soulful piano, the one-of-a-kind compositions on this album are still seriously impressive, and vary enough that there’s something for everyone to enjoy, from the trap-head to the chorus singer. What’s more, the production fits the mood of each song to the point where you’re joining Sampha on his cathartic journey across the record--and that immersion only makes Process more memorable.

7. Rapsody - Laila’s Wisdom

Rapsody entered my radar with her features on To Pimp A Butterfly and Malibu, and I’ve been waiting for a project from her ever since--and now that it’s here, it satisfies pretty much every expectation I had. The raps are personal and candid but also inspirational and confident, showing how Rapsody lets her past strengthen her present. She also hosts a huge variety of features that all fit very well where they’re placed, including a strong verse from Kendrick Lamar, a couple of choruses from Anderson .Paak, and a slightly-discomforting love rap from Busta Rhymes. The production is also top-notch, making great use of tempo shifts, sampling, and sound effect transitions. The thing that keeps me from really bouncing to these tracks though is Rapsody’s casual, off-tempo flow--it’s enough to make the raps sound more genuine but it also throws off their rhythm. That’s a small gripe for an overall-solid project, though.

6. Everything Everything - A Fever Dream

One of my favorite indie rock bands released their fourth album this year, and it did not disappoint. Like their past records that have a loose theme, this one roughly revolves around the crazy society that seems to have developed in the past year or so (as a lot of music this year also focuses on). Unlike their past records, however, the quality seems to be more in the slow-burner tracks than the energetic ones, which are seemingly more under-written than ever. That isn’t to say I don’t like them, though--the louder songs really punch with amped-up guitars, a driving rhythm section, and the band’s characteristically choral vocals. However, the mellower tracks have much more interesting and introspective lyrics, as well as instrumentals that are unique to the group’s discography and make for a unique tone in each song.

5. Big K.R.I.T. - 4eva Is a Mighty Long Time

There isn’t a lot about this album that really breaks any molds, or pushes any boundaries--it’s just a very, very solid rap project. The production is some of the best on any album this year, and most of it is done by Big K.R.I.T. himself, and his flows are marvelous whenever he raps. Tracks like Subenstein and Big Bank bring the hard beats on the first disc of the double-album without being overbearing, and the second disc has more melodic tracks like Miss Georgia Fornia (with some excellent vocals from Joi) and Bury Me in Gold (a wholesome wrap-up for the whole project). 4eva Is a Mighty Long Time is a mighty long album, though, so anyone listening might want to split it up into its two discs so they’re not too tired of it before it’s even finished (both are self-titled, the first his rap name, the second his real name). Oh, and the two skits are both hilarious.

4. Kendrick Lamar - DAMN.

The legend returned this year with an album that is equal parts evocative and enigmatic. Ignoring the lyrics/narrative for a moment, the production is very different from any prior project of Kendrick’s: he brings in instrumentals founded on guitars, ambient and/or erratic samples, and even U2, with the vocal effects varying across the album, matching Kendrick’s own vocal virtuosity. He even tries singing a few times, which is more fitting on some tracks than others. Lyrically, it feels like Kendrick is also getting more repetitive, but he uses that repetition to his supreme advantage when conveying ideas he wants to stick in your head, like his feelings of anxiety with fame and his worst fears throughout his life. The album’s narrative also takes different directions depending on how you listen, which is an amazing feature of this album that shows Kung-fu Kenny’s genius storytelling once again and reminds everyone why he’s staying on top.

3. BROCKHAMPTON - SATURATION trilogy

Out of nowhere, this fourteen-person boyband collective hailing mostly from Texas saturated rap music with three full-length albums in the past six months, and they’re all insanely good. Mostly produced by Romil Hemnani, the instrumentals are incredibly eclectic and use an insanely wide variety of sounds, drums, and effects, that somehow blend really well together into a solid beat. Each of the rapping members of the group then use that beat to its maximum potential with their own characteristic style, akin to boybands of the past: Kevin Abstract gets passionate about his homosexuality and leads the group, Ameer Vann discusses his drug-dealing past to solidify his tough-guy persona, Dom McLennon brings fast, rhythmic, and candid bars, Matt Champion raps with infectious confidence and bravado, Merlyn Wood adds a not-usually-serious energy to the mix, and JOBA is a wild-card that can go from singing beautiful harmonies on one track to screaming about breaking necks on the next. I am confident that this type of prolific, eclectic, and personalized rap is where the genre is headed, especially now that this group is around, and I can’t wait for their next album--already slated for early 2018.

(The albums themselves are pretty similar, but I would rank them 2, 3, 1 (descending), which is really just based on the number of less-memorable tracks they have.)

2. Joey Bada$$ - ALL-AMERIKKKAN BADA$$

Lots of musicians had their take on the current events of the past year or so, but I don’t think anybody had a political message that was as focused, thought-out, and powerful as Joey Bada$$ did on this album. For starters, the instrumentals are really immersive, with triumphant horn sections and choirs leading some of the more confident tracks and grimy samples backing the more passionate and angry beats--and it’s all mixed pretty much perfectly, leading to a combination that keeps you moving to the beat. On top of the stellar production, Joey raps about what it’s like to be a black man in modern America, taking perspectives on fear of the police, gang violence, and hatred of the current government, all with the incredible rhyme schemes and flow that he is known for, even singing a few of the choruses pretty well. The overall theme is a duality between anger and disappointment at the current system and an inspiring call to action to improve the future, which is a large chunk of why I think this album is both firmly rooted in the present and timeless in its quality.

1. Tyler, the Creator - Flower Boy

Tyler has always been one of my favorite rappers in the abstract, with his lyrical schemes, unpolished production, and unconventional narratives being the driving force behind his work--but Flower Boy is a newer, more mature Tyler than the one that’s been heard before. Both his lyrics and his production have stepped up so much on this album that it’s hard to even believe it was all done by Tyler himself. The lyrics are incredibly candid and rooted in Tyler’s own anxieties about fame, friends, and relationships, with his uniquely dynamic, almost chaotic rhyme schemes adding to the fittingly-awkward aesthetic of the lyrics. The production is also butter-smooth and usually based on laid-back, jazz-like piano or psychedelic guitar chords, with soulful vocal performances from Tyler, Frank Ocean, Rex Orange County, and Estelle to name a few--all of this culminating in a sound that’s just as much chill psychedelic rock as much as it is hip-hop. Tyler’s talent and maturity have really bloomed with this album, and its message connected with me personally: in a year that was filled with worries, loneliness, and shifting friendships, I could put this on and find peace in the moment--and that is why Flower Boy is my Vinyl of the Year for 2017.

That about wraps it up! If you liked what you read and are interested in any of these albums, remember you can listen to most of the music I just talked about in my Best of 2017 playlist. I’ll see you again this time next year with another playlist, countdown, and Vinyl of the Year.

Thanks for reading, and happy listening!

#vinyloftheyear #VotY2017

[notgonnarememberthis]

Beautiful- Chapter 4

I'm back! Sorry for the length of time between updates. I hope you understand that I'm still trying to adjust to the college life which is balancing free writing and school related writing. Anyways I hope you enjoy the update.

MENTIONS OF DRUGGING, DISMEMBERMENT, AND SADISTIC SERIAL KILLERS. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

August 2, 2016-August 6, 2016

The sounds of a steady clicking fills the practically empty hallway as Sherlock leans against the wall keeping watch. The only other person was the strung out junkie slumped against a door occasionally filling the tense silence with the begs to his girlfriend to let him back in. Watson kneels on the floor picking the lock to the apartment of their newest suspect.

Women from Pratt-Institute had been going missing periodically over the past 3 years. Most of the cases were the same where the woman was last reported seen at a frat party drunk off her socks. The cases now added up to 16 missing women. All were freshmen or juniors in college at the time that they went missing and none were reported to be seen since.

Their investigation lead them to a one Grant Matthews, quarterback on the football team and probably the only one on it that actually had the minimal amount of talent to make a good player. Matthews has been showing signs of aggression the past 3 years. After 2 long weeks of unburying Watson had discovered that Grant’s criminal record had been generously covered by his father and their bank account. Of course there had only been minor accounts on there: vandalism, destruction of property, trespassing. Nothing out of order for rebellious teenage years.

Except for the fact that a roommate of one of the missing girls, Elizabeth Ward, reported that her roommate had been frequently talking with Matthews before her disappearance. Her roommate had been one of the most recent of reports only going missing a month prior to the investigation.

Finally Watson exhales as the handle turns and she pushes the door open. She stands with a proud sort of grin on her face that she gets whenever she accomplishes even a minor task. “That’s a new record.” She says before slipping inside. He chuckles before following her into the dimly lit apartment.

The first thing that hits him is the utter stench of the place. Foul cologne covers a pungent body odor exuding from an ever growing pile of laundry in the corner or the room. He wrinkles his nose in distaste before pulling on his gloves and beginning his investigation. They work in a comfortable silence as Watson cards through books and he studies the photos on the walls.

“Sherlock?” Watson’s voice calls from the bathroom after twenty minutes of searching. As he steps inside he sees her holding two different pill bottles.

“Are we going to play a guessing game or I meant to know what those are?” He quips.

“Prozac and celexa.” She notes passing the bottles over. “Normally they’re prescribed for anxiety and depression but in the case of Matthews I’d say he’s been experiencing anger issues.”

“That’s quite an assumption to make.”

“Not when he’s also taking steroids.” She shrugs. “Look at the label. They’re prescribed from 2 different doctors. If I had to take a guess, they don’t know about the steroids.” She slips the medicine back into the cabinet. “If I had to take a guess daddy dearest wasn’t too happy with his son going to a fine arts college and has him taking steroids to assure he’s the best on the football team. It’s easy to make an impression in the league when you’re the only person scoring.”

“Good work Watson.” She tries to hide her smile by looking at the ground but he sees it nonetheless. He makes mental note to compliment her more often.

An hour passes again before a loud bang resonates from the other room Watson is in. She’d found a particularly high end lock that she’d been working at for about twenty minutes to pick. He guesses she’d finally gotten it open by the sound. He makes his way towards her.

“Watson we’re meant to be-” His speech stops as he spots her. Her face is a sickly pale in the light of her torch. Even from across the room he can see that she’s trembling all over. He hadn’t seen her this panic-stricken since her last anxiety attack nearly a year ago now and it has his heart sinking in his chest. Gloved hands cover her lips muffling the cross between whimpers and horrified screams trying to escape her throat.

Lying abandoned on the floor is a red binder thickly filled with waterproof covers. He rushes to her first pulling her away from whatever was inside that she saw. She almost instantly calms in his presence. She’s still trembling but at least the noises cease. He goes to the binder next investigating what had her so shaken.

Inside are developed photos of the missing women but something’s not right about them. Their eyes are vacant but cheeks still colored. He’d drugged them, tied them up, and then took photos of them. He flips several pages later except in these they’re dressed up and posing. Their hair is different as well as their outfits.

His heart falls to his stomach when he sees the stitches across the necks. He’d killed them… Dressed them up and posed them…

“Hey!” Grant Matthews stands in the doorway pointing a gun at the pair. “Those are mine! Give them back!”

He drops the folder quickly raising his hands into the air. “Grant you don’t want to do that.”

“I’m not going to jail.” He growls. However Watson doesn’t seem moderately fazed by the gun as she approaches him, both hands raised above her head.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Well I am. Step the fuck back.” He threatens.

“Grant it’s okay.” She soothes. “We’re here to help you okay?”

“Like hell you are.” Yet she doesn’t stop. She comes closer and closer until the loud bang of a gunshot echoes through the tiny apartment.

“Watson!” He screams rushing to her. However, instead of her it is Matthews who collapses rocking back and forth on the ground.

“I didn’t mean to kill her.” The boy whimpers. “I was just doing what he told me to do. He said it’d make her sleep. I didn’t want to hurt her. He said he’d get Mellie next if I don’t help.” He pushes his hands into his eyes rubbing the tears away. The gun skitters across the floor allowing Sherlock the chance to examine it. All it was loaded with were blanks…

Watson kneels next to the man who all of the sudden looks very similar to a scared child. “It’s going to be alright Grant. Okay?” She comforts placing a hand on his arm. It’s nothing like the woman he saw not ten minutes before. Her voice was strong and her movements sure. “My name is Joan Watson and this is my partner Sherlock Holmes.”

“I can’t let him hurt Mellie.”

“Who’s Mellie? Is she your sister?” A sharp nod comes from the boy as a more violent sob shakes his form. “Melinda Grant?” He shakes his head.

“Melinda Tyler. She goes to Brooklyn High School. She’s a senior.”

“We’ll get protection for your family okay? Does that sound okay?” He nods jerkily once more. “Now I need you to explain to me what’s in the binder.” A whimper comes from his throat once more. “Hey we’re going to help you so I need you to help us okay?”

“It was just supposed to be pictures. I didn’t do nothing to them.” He cries.

“Sherlock get him some water.” Watson commands. He wonders when she became so good at compartmentalizing her feelings. He can see the storm in her eyes. The regrets filling them as she helps this man who’d drugged the girls in the photos. Yet she’s so sure in helping him. She grabs his arm pulling him towards the bed.

Sherlock goes to the kitchen grabbing a solo cup and filling it with tap water before returning. He passes the man the cup trying not to let his posture give away his distrust.

“Thank you.” He whispers. “My dealer, Daniel, he was the one that started giving me the drugs. Swear I didn’t do nothing to those girls except take their photos. Until one day he gave me a big dose. Said it’d keep her out for a while. I’d be able to get more pictures that way. He said he could help me…” He shakes his head. “It killed her. I killed Veronica.” Watson tenses but she nods for him to continue. “Danny… He became crazy after that. He wanted more. He took Ronnie’s body… He got the damn thing stuffed and he… He took more pictures and sent them to me… He asks me if I like his doll.” He laughs harshly. “I tell him I’m done. No more. But he comes back with a girl… Bella… She put up a fight. She tried to get out and he cut her throat. Said if I told anyone about him or his dolls that Mellie would be next.”

“She won’t.”

“He sends me pictures of Mellie when she’s out with her friends. He’s always got eyes on her I don’t know how.”

“What’s your dealer’s name?” Sherlock speaks now.

“Daniel… Daniel Thompson.”

“You need to turn yourself into the New York precinct. Ask for Marcus Bell. He’ll get us back to you. Alright? We’ll discuss terms of getting your family protection. Bring the binder. Does that work for you?” He asks

“You’ll protect her?”

“You have my word.” He nods. “Shall we Watson?” She gives a final squeeze to the boy’s arm before following him out of the door. They don’t speak until they’re in the cab on their way to the Brownstone once more to await the call from Marcus. “How did you know the gun wasn’t loaded?”

“I didn’t.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He has to admit the smell is at least better than that of Grant’s bedroom but not much more so. Sherlock peers out at the large crowd mingling in the middle of the dining room turned ballroom. The place reeks of expensiveness: from jewelry, to hairspray, to perfume and cologne. Money in the end that could’ve been used for much better uses but rather had a dress to be purchased and tailored for this one evening only to stick it into the back of the closet.

“Hey,” Watson calls out for him snatching him from his mindspace. Watson isn’t exactly out of place either when it comes to expensive clothing but he can at least say from photos he’d seen that she’s worn the garment in question on more than one occasion. It’s a floral blue dress that hugs her torso and flares out at her hips. Her hair settles in loose waves down her shoulders but only after 2 hours of convincing her that waves would suffice more than the complicated updo she’d chosen earlier in the day. “Cover, remember?”

“Ah, yes. Apologies Watson.” He smiles softly squeezing the arm that’s linked in his. Daniel Thompson, Matthew’s dealer, turned out to be Jared Yates upon further investigation. The discovery led them to this beneficiary ball where Yates would be attending with his wife who likely has no idea of her husband’s second life. Quite sad really. She likely has no idea where their money is actually coming from. Just benefitting from the losses of lives, disappearances of young girls...

Now they’re here posing as patrons for the charity looking to snag a few drinks and maybe exchange contacts with other higher ups. Rather they’re looking for Yates to snap a photo of the man and confirm that he is indeed the man they expect him to be with Grant. Once they do that they’re free to make their leave.

“Names?” The man at the desk asks.

“Tobias Bryan and this is my wife Camille.” After a few tense seconds of clicking the man gestures for them to entire allowing Watson to release the breath she’d been holding. At least Everyone kept up their end of the deal. He can only imagine what sort of spectacle they’ll have imagined up for him when he returns to the Brownstone. However it is the price that must be paid.

Watson takes the lead guiding them into the center of the crowd of dancers. This way they’ll both have an equal vantage in their dance to gaze upon the room and find their man in question.

He comes to regret his choice as soon as her body is pressed against his. His mind almost immediately short circuits, instead focusing on everything that is Watson. The smell of her hair, her perfume, the texture of the dress on her hip where his hand rests, the feeling of her soft hand in his, the warmth of her pressed against him. She only gives his hand a small squeeze reminding him once more of where they are.

“There are guards everywhere.” She notes nearly halfway through the first song. He had marked the same as well. They blend pretty well into the crowd if it is the decent eye that is watching but they’ve both had far too much practice. They wear black suits with varying colors of ties but the earpieces are what marks them as they are.

“Well it’s a good thing we aren’t stealing anything.” He jokes lightly earning a small laugh from his partner. His heart swells at the sound wishing he could ignite it more often. Under the scrutiny of his gaze or the heat of the crowd a deep red blush spreads from underneath the breast of her gown rising to her cheeks.

Absolutely breathtaking…

“Shall I go get us drinks?” Watson gives a disapproving gaze before he interjects her protest. “Worry not Watson. I spied sparkling water on our way in. Try not to get swept away by too many suitors.” He teases earning another small smile from her. He quietly notes to make these teasing jokes more often.

When he returns she’s gone from the spot he’d left her. His heart drops for a few seconds before he spies the sweeping dress within the dozens. She spins just in time to reveal the face of the man she’d swept up. However it does not raise his confidence any more when he recognizes the face of Jared Yates, the man they’d been looking for.

He approaches quickly taking care to twist and turn to avoid the bumping bodies from spilling their glasses. Watson quickly halts upon spying him steadily coming through the crowd. A smile spreads across her face as she guides Yates to him.

“Honey look I found.” She grins in exaggerated excitement very unakin to the Watson he knows.

“Uhm.”

“Seriously?” Her grin falls to exasperation. “This is Jared Yates. We were talking about his book just last night! I’m so sorry Mr. Yates he just has the worst memory.”

“Quite sorry.” He sighs sticking out his hand for him to shake. “I’m Tobias Bryan. I take it you’ve had the pleasure of meeting my wife.”

“Camille is lovely.” Watson bows her head in feigned embarrassment at Yate’s compliment. “She was just telling me about your business. I’ve got contacts if you need any help legally.” He winks earning a playful laugh from Watson.

“Would it be too much to ask for a photo? My sister would just be incredibly jealous.”

“Not at all.” Watson passes the phone to Sherlock who’d in the midst of the conversation abandoned their drinks on a passing waiter's tray. He snaps the photo quickly stashing the thing safely into his pocket. “Thank you so much. It was wonderful meeting you.”

“Any time.” Yates grins as Sherlock guides her away with a hand on the small of her back.

“What were you thinking?” Sherlock whispers in a hushed tone as he directs them to the back of the dining room. “That was not a part of the plan.”

“He approached me and asked me to dance while you were away. I saw an opportunity and I took it.” Her hand slides down his arm that was leading her instead lacing her fingers in his. They were unconscious behaviors that they’d practiced long before they even considered taking undercover cases.

“And if he’d taken you?”

“Marcus and Gregson have cops on every exit of this place. I knew what I was doing Sherlock.” He halts suddenly but she keeps moving. He pulls her back by the link in her hands pressing their bodies together once more. His heartbeat drowns out everything he hears as he cups Watson’s cheek with his free hand brushing back the stray curls that fell forwards in the movement. “Sherlock?” She breathes. The blush has returned once more. Her eyes flash all across his face studying him. She’s so good at that.

“Yates is still watching. I believe he recognized me.” He whispers.

“What do we do?”

“Do you trust me?” A beat passes, heart in his throat knowing what’s to come next.

“With my life.” He swoops down with her words capturing her lips with his. It’s just for their cover he tells himself as his other hand moves to the small of her back pulling her closer. It’s just to fool Yates as her bottom lip slots between his. It’s just for the case as her arms wrap around his neck and she falls into his embrace. Though there’s no denying that he stays there a little longer than necessary.

Her lips on his is so familiar. He’s suddenly overwhelmed with memories of that night all those years ago. The sounds she made, the way her hair looked spilled over his hand onto the pillow, her legs wrapped around his. He pulls away brushing her hair back once more. Her cheeks are flushed and he swears for half a second he sees the memories flash in her eyes. They’re gone as soon as they appeared however.

“Is it clear?” She whispers.

“Yes. We should go.” Watson only nods settling into cover once more merrily leading him out of the building. She drops his hand as soon as they exit taking the phone from his extended hand. She pulls up the photo to check the quality when a drunken man pushes past them rather roughly sending her cell phone tumbling to the concrete.

“The hell!” He exclaims ready to have words with the drunk.

“It’s fine Sherlock.” Watson sighs picking up the phone. He turns back to help when he spies a fast approaching figure. He’s too late to warn her as Yates slips from behind Watson pressing a knife to her throat.

“You really think I wouldn’t recognize you huh?” Yates laughs. “Really?”

“Let her go.” He says softly.

“Why? Seems like she means a lot to you. Your little stunt could’ve fooled anyone else.” He chuckles. “Maybe I should take her with me for security.” Watson winces as the knife digs into the skin dripping red down her skin.

“Where are they buried.” Sherlock demands.

“You’re kidding.” He tips his head back letting out a fake belly laugh.

“Where are the girls buried.” He repeats. “You cared for them did you not? So why did you kill them?”

“I will kill her!” He threatens. Watson’s whimper and gasp breaks his heart but it must be done.

“Rachel, Chloe, Anya… You loved them didn’t you Mr. Yates? But they wouldn’t listen. They wanted to leave you. They were going to tell your wife.”

“The hell do you know!” Yates yells now pointing the knife towards him. Watson moves quicker than he can even react slinging the arm that holds the weapon over her shoulder forcing it to point to the ground. She struggles valiantly trying to pry it from his grip. A cry and the ripping of fabric breaks through the otherwise silent streets. She stomps on his toe finally sending the metal clattering to the ground. Yates slaps her across the face sending her sprawling to the ground. He takes off into the night leaving her collapsed on the ground.

Sherlock crouches next to Watson inspecting her for injury. Blood drips from a tear on her thigh spilling onto his hands. He passes her his cell phone with shaking hands. Marcus had already been dialed but he found no words other than his distress for her safety.

“Marcus he’s heading your direction.” She reports. “We’re at the east exit. He got my leg with a knife.” Sherlock shucks off his jacket pressing it against Watson’s leg. “Yes. We got the photo.” She nods. “Alright. Goodbye.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It isn’t until late into the night that Sherlock finds himself alone with Watson once more. Doctors had been in and out all night inspecting her, assuring him that she is in fact alright. The air is tense between them, almost electric.

“Are you going to say what you want to say or are you just going to stare at the wall?” Watson murmurs tiredly. She’s at least comfortable in her pajamas instead of the ball gown. Mrs. Hudson was kind enough to bring some when he called reporting that they were on the way to the hospital. Her red cardigan stands out in the room filled with whites and pale blues.

She ended up with thirteen stitches in her thigh and a mild concussion from hitting the sidewalk when she fell. She’s lucky it’s not worse… He’s lucky it’s not worse.

“Sherlock?”

“Why did you fight him?” He asks finally.

“Are you serious?” Her eyebrow furrows.

���Quite.” He nods feeling the blood boil beneath his skin as his anger rose. “You’ve been acting reckless with this entire case.” He accuses pacing the length of the room. “First with Grant and the gun, then talking to Yates on your own, then fighting him!”

“What was I supposed to do? Stay in his grasp?” She snaps.

“Marcus was on his way! I signalled him as soon as we stepped out! I was stalling Yates until he got there.” Sherlock pinches his nose in frustration trying to calm down. “What if he’d recognized you in there? What’s to stop him from stabbing you then disappearing into the crowd? Did you think of that?”

“And like you haven’t taken a risk before?” She shouts. “I did what needed to be done for that case!”

“To hell with the case!” He approaches her now grabbing her by the shoulders. “You could’ve been shot. You could’ve-” His throat cuts off his speech as his hand slides up her throat tracing the small bandage where he’d cut into her neck.

“I’m here Sherlock.” She whispers placing her hand on top of his.

“Please don’t do this again.” He murmurs pressing his lips to the top of her head. It’s unusual for him to initiate this sort of closeness but right now he just needed to hold her. To know she’s alive and with him. Her forehead rests against his chest.

“Only if you promise the same.”

“I will never intentionally hurt you Watson.” His fingers trace her spine counting each vertebrae as a calming technique. “I can’t lose you.” He confesses. The silence in the air is thick and he swears for a second he feels his shirt getting wet where her face rests.

“You won’t.”

March 23, 2017

A deep sigh falls from Sherlock’s lips as he settles into a chair near by him. It;s yet another obnoxiously long case finally settled and under the belt. They’d been getting string after string of long cases since late last year. Most of the time they’d take two weeks tops to tie up a case but this most recent one had taken a month and a half to finish up. He’s beginning to believe that they’re slipping up. Each case is followed by another with increasingly more attention needing to be called. It’s exhausting to say the least. As far as he can recall neither of them had taken a break in months.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when Watson’s voice cuts through his deepest thoughts. “Maybe you should get some sleep.” He throws her a startled look. He hadn’t heard her come in. “Shinwell was working so I came home instead.” She shrugs setting her bag down next to her. “Seriously though you look strung out. When was the last time you slept?” She asks calmly. He looks to her and he sees the same signs she likely sees on him. Her eyes are sunken and cheeks hollow.

“32 hours ago.” He mutters quietly. It’s not even close to the days he’d gone without sleep but the dissatisfaction is evident in her worn out features. Comfortable silence falls between the two of them. Only the creaks of the Brownstone can be heard in the quiet of the night.

“When was the last time you’ve had one of your… appointments?” The odd question in itself is enough to wake him from whatever exhausted state he lingers in. It is a very forwards question, shocking coming from anyone. Watson, however, is something extraordinary in herself. The question coming from her who’s always been so… prudish in the cases of these scenarios.

“Months. Why do you ask?”

“I think we’re both able to register that we’ve been off our game recently. Cases that should take us a week take two or more. We’re both a bit distracted.” He opens his mouth to interject but she cuts him off quickly. “Don’t you dare deny it either.”

“I wasn’t going to. In fact I was going to propose you take tomorrow off.” He suggests. “Go see Emily or whatever her name is.”

“Seriously? You remember everything don’t even begin to pretend you don’t remember her name.” She plops down beside him with a heavy thump. “I’d be shocked if you didn’t know her entire life story already.”

“It’s not my fault you’re incredibly loud on the telephone.” The small comment earns him a smack with the pillow lying in close enough for Watson to reach. He chuckles tiredly smiling at her. “I’m kidding.”

She rolls her eyes lying her head back against the couch to stare at the ceiling above her. The silence spreads through the Brownstone for a few minutes longer before she chirps up yet again. “When did you learn that sex was so… helpful to you?”

“Why are you so inquisitive today?” He prods back.

“I asked first.” Sherlock shifts trying to gauge her emotions without looking at her. It could just be innocent curiosity. The lessening of boundaries could simply be the exhaustion in the air. It wouldn’t be the first time that the lack of sleep brought forth such questions.

“Shortly after I got addicted I-”

“You’re lying.” Her accusation makes him jump. She’d been studying his expressions as he was staring into the smouldering fire. “Your cheek twitches when you lie to me. Come on.” He looks at her now. There’s no familiarity in her eyes that wasn’t already present before. She does look worn though. Her hair is rumpled from the windy day, makeup nearly worn away from the constant activity.

He sighs, “I was 22. Just nearing the end of University.”

She hums for a second. “Who taught you?”

Sherlock clicks his tongue shaking his head. “I answered the question. It’s your turn now.”

“My roommate in college did the same thing. She’d hook up with at least one guy per week. They’d always rush out of her room half dressed trying to tug on their pants to get to class.” She shrugs absentmindedly. Exhaustion seems to finally be settling into her as her eyes keep drifting shut. She forces them back open seconds later determined to keep up the conversation.

“Did you ever…”

“A few times. Nearing finals when things got too intense.” She ducks her head as her cheeks begin to flush into the same shade as her cardigan. “Always when I was drunk.”

“It was a woman.”

“What?” Her head lifts once more as if confused by the question.

“A woman taught me my methods.” He sighs. “My father was on a business trip in America and forced me to come with him.”

“Business…” The inquisition is punctuated with a yawn. He’s half tempted to cut the conversation off here and persuade her to go up to the room instead.

“As you’d expect.” He confirms with a solemn nod. “I met a woman in a bar and she took me back to her place. She rid of my cell phone and I spent the night. Of course I think you can guess what happened from her.”

“Did you ever see her again?” This question is mumbled almost unintelligible.

“No…” If she detects the lie this time, she doesn’t give it away. He waits for her next question, surely she has more. Rather he stills when he feels a light pressure on his shoulder.

Watson’s head has slipped now so it’s pillowed against his arm rather than the couch. Raven tresses have slipped out of the half ponytail holding them up tickling his arm. He doesn’t dare move as he watches her breathe deeply. He quietly wonders when the last time she got sleep was. It’s different to see her asleep this close rather than when he’s pondering waking her or simply watching from afar. Her features are unguarded, face serene.

The last time he’d been this close was after she’d fallen asleep on his chest after an anxiety attack. His stomach flips at the memories of her screams, the tears streaking down her reddened cheeks that will never escape his mind. He cradles her arm lightly ready to move her when she burrows deeper.

“Stay… Sleep.” She mumbles into his sleeve. All he can do is nod as he lets his head drop onto hers. She smells of sandalwood, honey, and something that’s so uniquely Watson. His heart thumps in his chest for a few seconds incredibly loud in the otherwise quiet room. Letting his eyes drift closed he focuses on his senses; the crackling of the dying fire, the smell of Watson, the rise and fall of her chest against his arm. Syncing his breath with hers he finally lets himself slip into the peacefulness.

#joanlock #joan x sherlock #joan watson x sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x joan watson #sherlock x joan #joan watson #sherlock holmes #elementary #elementary cbs #elementary AU #One Night Stand #tw drugs #tw drugging #tw serial killers

[princeparkersmythe]

Hit Me Like A Flash → Wendy & Parker

Involved → Wendy Anderson & Parker Smythe. Location → Blaine’s 80′s party. Time Frame → Saturday, September 16th, towards the end of the party. Notes → Parker accidentally drinks something that was spiked and confesses way more secrets to Wendy than he probably should. Warnings → Mentions of alcohol, depression, anxiety, and abuse. Also explosions.

Wendy was enjoying this party about as much as she enjoyed the last one. Perhaps this was was a bit more fun because of her and Parker’s themed outfits. Still, the night was going about the same as last time, until she somehow managed to lose track of Parker and Danny. Looking around in an attempt to reunite with them, she finally spotted Parker with a cup in his hand, hurrying over to him. “There you are... I’ve been looking for you and Danny for nearly a half an hour.” she said before raising her eyebrows slightly. “I thought you said you weren’t going to drink tonight..?”

Parker wasn’t exactly having a good time. He liked being dressed as JD, but for the most part he felt even more out of place at this party than he had at the last one. It felt like everyone was having a good time except for him. He was still dealing with that last remaining bit of getting over his crush on Mason, worrying about his date with Blaine (that he wasn’t even sure was actually happening since Blaine seemed more interested in Kane than him), and his depression and anxiety levels were through the roof. The worst part was that nobody seemed to notice... that or nobody cared. When Wendy found him, he shrugged slightly at the question before taking another sip. “I’m not drinking.” he said as the cup reached his mouth.

Wendy raised her brow before looking Parker up and down. “I’m pretty sure that’s spiked, love.” she informed him. She had noticed Parker slowly starting to spiral over the past week or so. She assumed it had something to do with him feeling alone or left out, so she’d done her best to make sure he felt included during rehearsal when they had down time and to hang out with him as much as she could throughout the week, but maybe there was more to it than that. “How much have you had?”

Parker felt his eyes go a bit wide as he looked down at the cup. “Oh.” he said before biting down on his lip. “I didn’t know that.” he admitted through a slur before slowly lowering the cup a bit. “Not enough to be super drunk... enough to feel something.” 

Wendy reached for the cup before nodding slowly. “Uh huh, well, either way, I’m cutting you off.” she said before looking him up and down again. “Come with me, I think you need a party break.” she stated as she took his hand, leading him to her dorm room. She thought about taking him back to his own, but hers was closer so it seemed like the wise thing to do. Relieved to find that Van wasn’t there and that they were alone she sat him down on her bed and crossed her arms. “Okay, talk, you’re in need of a friend therapy session and what better time to do that then when you have alcohol in your system?” she joked. 

Parker allowed her to lead him through the crowd, sliding off of her bed so he could sit on the floor. “I’ve got a lot of stuff going on.” he said with a sigh. “Got my first crush, the guy didn’t like me back because he likes someone else. Complained about that to your brother and he asked me out, but I think he likes Kane better than he likes me... and why wouldn’t he? I got so lonely I called my ex girlfriend... I keep telling myself that it’s okay that I’m alone... I’m going to spend my life that way anyway, I might as well get use to it. But every time I think I am use to it, something happens to send me flying backwards.”

Wendy listened carefully as he spoke. She’d known he had anxiety and depression, but he had a lot more emotional turmoil going on than she’d realized. “Parker, you’re not going to end up alone, you’re a great guy. You don’t need to be calling some ex. What did you call her for, anyway?” 

Parker looked down. “That’s what everyone keeps saying, but the more I hear it, the harder it is to believe.” he looked back up at her. “She always told me if I didn’t stay with her that I’d end up alone, that she was the only person who would care about me because I wasn’t good enough and she was the only one out there kind enough to put up with me and settle for me. Guess I just thought I should let her know she was right.” He fiddled with his coat a bit. 

Wendy was taken back by Parker’s words. “Parker, no one should talk to anyone the way she spoke to you. You don’t deserve that. Is that why you broke up with her?” she asked. “Don’t let lies she told you get to you, especially not when you’re drunk. None of what she said is true, you know that, right?”

Parker scoffed. “I spent most of my relationship with her drunk. Too drunk to even know what was happening, most of the time. Not that I wanted to be, but she made me, that was the easiest way to control me. I left because I couldn’t take it anymore. I left because I was gay and I wasn’t attracted to her anyway. But sometimes I think... as horrible as she was to me, at least I wasn’t alone.” 

Wendy felt herself exhale before crawling over from her spot on the floor to hug him. “Oh, Parker.” she pulled away from the hug and lightly hit him in the shoulder. “You stop that talk right now, you hear? No amount of loneliness is worth being with someone who is abusive. You did the right thing getting out of there and I’m so incredibly proud of you for that. You should be proud of yourself for that. Whatever guy picked someone else over you doesn’t know what he’s missing... and you know what else? Maybe there won’t be another guy who’s smart enough to see that for a long time, but that doesn’t mean he’s not out there.” She sat herself on her knees. “You’re truly one of a kind, Parker Smythe, you are a light in a very dark world and I don’t ever want you dim that light just because other people are too busy to notice it shine, okay?”

Parker hugged her back before blinking in surprise when she hit his shoulder. It was playful, so it didn’t hurt, but it surprised him. “Ah, okay.” he responded. He listened as she spoke, only feeling himself get emotional as she continued. He let out a shaky breath in response, giving a small nod. “Okay.” he said again. Her words resonated with him. It was definitely something he needed to hear, but not anything he ever expected anyone to say. 

Wendy reached up to wipe his face gently. “Good, and if I ever come across this ex girlfriend of yours, my arrow is going to go through more than just her door.” she stated. “I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but you’re going to be okay. I promise.” she said seriously. “I know you didn’t ask me to, but I promise I won’t tell anyone about anything you told me, I assume you don’t want people to know.” 

Parker nodded a bit. “Thanks. You assume right.” he hesitated a moment before letting out a small sigh. “It’s just so much harder than I thought it was going to be. I thought the reason my life was so difficult was because I was in the closet, I thought coming out, a weight would be lifted off of me and all those it gets better videos would finally make sense... and it’s not like I thought I’d end up married to my first crush or anything crazy like that. Even when I got my first crush, I knew he wasn’t going to like me back, but it’s not the moments where he and I are hanging out together or even with a group of friends that are hard. Those moments feel like our friendship survived and everything’s going to be okay... it’s the moments at rehearsal when he’s with that other person or when I see them in the halls together that I suddenly feel like I’m being crushed under an enormous weight and like I’ll never recover, you know? I’m not even having fun at rehearsal anymore, it’s just hard and painful being there. I’ve never felt that way about a show before. Theater use to be my escape from my problems, now it’s partially the cause of it.” he looked down at his outfit before sighing. “Sometimes, I wish I was more like JD...”

Wendy let him vent. “I’m sorry about that, really, I am. I’ll do my best to make sure you feel more included at rehearsal. Or distracted. Whichever you think you need more.” she promised. She could understand the way he felt, it was shocking to hear him say that he wasn’t having fun at rehearsal anymore because he was feeling so depressed, but she understood. If Danny hadn’t returned her feelings, seeing him around campus with someone else would’ve utterly crushed her, despite the fact that she would never admit to that out loud since she never admitted to those sorts of feelings. If people asked, she said she didn’t even have feelings, it was just easier that way. At the last thing he said, she gave a playful smile before letting her head tilt to the side. “You want to blow up the school?” she teased. 

Parker let out a small sad laugh. “Not exactly, no. I just wish I could go for the things I want. Everything JD wanted to do, he went out and did it. Sure, the things he wanted to do was murder a bunch of people, I definitely don’t want to do that. just... I don’t know what I’m saying...”

Wendy gave a tiny nod of understanding. “I think I do.” she said honestly. “You want to be reckless without worrying what other people will think. You want a level of confidence in yourself to say what you want to say without fear of being judged... it’s the same reason you want to dye your hair purple. I’m sure we can find some way to give you that feeling that you’re looking for. But there’s no use assuming that how things are now are how they’re always going to be. Whether you never get married but end up with 6 Tony Awards, have a husband and 3 kids, or if you convince Danny to leave me and you two run off and have some sort of epic adorable nerdy affair, everything’s going to turn out exactly the way it’s suppose to, and it’s going to be great.” 

Parker quickly nodded. “Exactly.” he said before letting out a sigh of relief. “It’s nice to have someone who gets it.” he admitted quietly. “Psh, yeah right, like I’d really steal Danny from you, I don’t want an arrow through my door.” he laughed before wiping the remaining tears off his face. “Maybe I am JD... only the explosion was the random outpour of my feelings... kaboom.” he let out a bit of a drunken laugh before scrunching his nose up. “This is exactly why I should not be given alcohol.” he said before laughing again. He climbed back onto the bed, sitting against the wall before closing his eyes and letting out a soft hum. 

Wendy let out a laugh of her own. “Smart boy.” she said before kissing his cheek. At his JD comparison, she let out a bit of a giggle before pushing some of her hair out of her face. “Well, I’m glad you could open up to me, it’s good that you got all that out, I don’t know how you were functioning as well as you have been with all that inside you. But no matter what happens, you’re going to be fine, because you have me, and I feel it’s safe to say that you have Danny too. You’ve got people who care about you, we’re like our own little Addams Family and we’re always going to look out for one another.” she said before standing up. He didn’t exactly seem up for heading back to the party, which would probably be over soon anyway. “Maybe you should take a quick nap, sleep off some of that alcohol.”

Parker didn’t bother to open his eyes. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be fine here, you can go find Danny... if I’m still like this when you come back just knock me out of the bed and I’ll head back to mine. But maybe I won’t be, maybe I’ll rejoin the party later.” 

Wendy smiled. Part of her wasn’t sure if she should leave Parker by himself when he was like this, but he wasn’t terribly drunk, and he seemed to feel better than he had before so she supposed leaving him alone for a tiny amount of time wouldn’t hurt. He probably needed a little while to collect himself anyway. “You got it. Text me if you need anything, okay? I’ll be back in a bit.” she said before heading out of the dorm room and back to the party full of people who had no idea that their classmate was going through so much.

#p:hmlaf #para #//its a heathers lyric and has the word flash in it it's a win/win. lol

[shakespeareanhoneybadgers]

Pack of Orphans, Chapter 2

Fic summary: Orphan Black AU. Gary Schofield's life changes when he witnesses a man who looks exactly like him commit suicide and decides to don his identity. He is soon drawn into a vast network with science and the supernatural competing against each other for answers to a decades old experiment. Ao3.

Rating: M

He couldn't stop staring at Not Lacey as they fled the scene of the crime. Put more make-up on her, change her outfit and she’d look closer to Lace than he did to Danny. But her tells were different; Lacey would be drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, not picking at the material of it.

“I can’t believe he’s dead.”

He glanced up at Belle’s face. She looked as pale as he felt, staring blankly at the road ahead as she put distance between them and the scene. Her head shook slightly.

“I mean, we just saw him this afternoon… Tried to calm him down about Danny not returning any calls, assured him we’d check on him if he didn’t respond soon...” She turned to him, “So does that make you Gary Schofield?”

“Gaz but yeah.” He raked his fingers through his hair, “So what, you just decided to check in and that’s why you witnessed the bloody Rocky Horror Picture Show?”

“I figured Begbie would do something dramatic.” She shook her head incredulously, “Did I know the hitman was going to be there? Of course not, we didn’t even know he was in London.”

“Back?” Gaz echoed, “Hitman? What the fuck is going on?”

“Your guess is as good as any of ours.” They were starting to head out of the heart of the city now, towards the suburbs, “We figure the organization is sending someone after all of you to either terminate the experiment or get rid of the evidence it occurred...both’s possible too I suppose.”

“A fucking experiment?!”

“Please, Gaz, we’ll get you up to speed with what little we know,” she assured him, casting him sympathetic glances when she could spare the attention from the road, “A lot is still speculation… And I think it’ll be better to sit down and talk it out rather than continuing to give you half answers as we speed away from a homicide.”

“Fine.” He turned around in his seat, staring back behind them. He didn’t know if that maniac had a car but damned if he wasn’t at least going to keep an eye out, “...but how the hell do you know Lacey? Is she part of this too?”

Belle sighed, “She’s not… But apparently she didn’t tell you about me.”

    They drove on in silence and he watched the buildings climb up the income ladder. By the time Belle pulled into the driveway of a house, it was in the not-even-in-his-dreams price bracket. He followed her up the path to a porch worthy of lazy summer lounging, stepping into a foyer that automatically made him feel like he should be taking off his shoes and avoiding touching anything.

“Nick?”

“We’re in here.” Belle’s voice echoed from nearby. It took all of his Year One manners not to push Belle aside and lead himself into the living room.

    Lacey of all people was on the couch, legs crossed and arms spread over the back of it. Drink in hand she was watching a man standing next to a white board who, surprise surprise, looked like a scruffy older version of him. Lacey nearly spilled her drink as she got to her heels.

“Gaz!”

“It’s fine, I’m fine, this is…” He looked down at his clothes, thinking he should’ve made some attempt in the car to at least get his face cleaned up, “...not my blood.”

    The new doppleganger hardly paid him any mind, going straight for Belle. They embraced, her hand cradling his head and his splayed across her upper back.

“Nick…”

He pulled away, snapping, “What the hell were you doing?!”

“I was worried about Begbie pulling something...Begbie-esque, and he did. But he was right, it’s not Danny, Danny was the one who was killed by the train.” She gestured to Gaz, “This...is Gary Schofield. Gaz, this is my husband, Dr. Nicholas Rush.”

    The other man finally took notice of him, though didn’t seem particularly impressed, “...so you’re Gaz.”

“Aye.”

    He contemplated him for a moment longer, “...glad I never went blonde.”

Belle shot him a warning look, before turning to the other woman, “Lacey, you didn’t tell him.” There was no accusation in her voice, just mild surprise.

The room quieted and Gaz felt more than saw Lacey tense, the grip on her glass tightening as her chin tilted up. She rolled her head as though she were working a kink out of her neck before turning to him.

“Yeah so, you know how I’ve told you as long as I’ve known you I don’t care about finding my bio family? Well...she found me.”

    Gaz stared at Lacey, feeling like he was looking at a stranger instead of his best friend, “...and you didn’t tell me?”

“You were kind of busy pretending to be a nightclub owner… And I was embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?”

“Yeah, look at her, Miss I’m-Fucking-A-Rocket-Scientist,” Lacey jerked her head towards her.

“Professor of quantum physics, but close enough,” Belle brushed it off, “And tell me you wouldn’t be curious if you learned you were adopted and, when you went to search for your parents, you found out you had a sister.”

“No, because I’ve never been curious about my parents! They gave me up so clearly they didn’t think much about me.” She finished her drink and plopped back down on the couch, “Anyway it didn’t matter until now, because of this Twilight Zone shite...”

“Of course it mattered,” Gaz muttered, taking a seat beside her, “You matter to me, Lace… Always.”

“This is all very touching,” Nick drawled, “But unfortunately low on the agenda. You two can discuss lies of omission afterwards, but right now we need to patch together what happened at Devine’s joint and what we know so far about why we have all these familiar faces.”

“You’re going to want a drink,” Belle told Gaz, “What would you like?”

“Anything strong,” he said.

Lacey extended her glass and Belle stepped away, “I think you’ve had about enough.”

“I’ll let you know when I’ve had enough,” Lacey growled. Belle wasn’t dissuaded, touching Nick’s shoulder as she passed him by.

    Nicholas sized up his audience as she went into the kitchen, playing with the cap on his marker, “...what do you know about cloning?”

    Gaz was struck dumb by the question and Lacey shrugged, “They did it to a sheep in the mid-nineties. Everything else comes from sci-fi.”

“Aye, Dolly is the best known case of actual cloning, certainly not the last.” Nick’s eyes stayed on Gaz, trying to read him, “Us, for example… You, me, Devine, Begbie, MacAvoy, countless others. There’s a very good possibility that we’re all copies from one individual.”

“Bull shit,” Gaz spat, “If humans were being cloned we’d know about it. You can’t keep something like that a secret.”

“You’d be surprised,” Belle returned, offering him a glass of whiskey on the rocks, “I mean, Lacey and I are clones.”

“That’s different,” Lacey insisted, “I seriously doubt we grew in a test tube before being tossed.”

“You’re clones in the basic sense,” Nick defended, “Identical DNA, identical fingerprints… Natural cloning with one fertilized egg splitting in two. Given the age ranges between all of us,” he gestured between himself and Gaz, “...it’s very likely we’re of the...lab rat sort of cloning.”

Really it shouldn't be so much of a surprise; it wasn't a half bad explanation, and he didn't have any better theory. But still…

“...we’re older than the sheep, though.”

“Doesn't mean someone wasn't playing mad scientist in the basement.” Rush muttered, crossing his arms, “Truth is none of us know who made us. It was coincidence MacAvoy and Devine even crossed paths.”

“Danny was a little...well, neurotic,” Belle explained, “He enjoyed his conspiracy theories, so seeing someone who looked almost exactly like him gave him all sorts of ideas. Nick wasn’t difficult to find, being a professor...and I think we found Begbie through Danny’s network… And you through your criminal background.”

    It was the first time Gaz had seen the disgruntled academic smile, “Public indecency, eh?”

“Fuck off,” Gaz hissed.

“It was rehearsal that the police butted in on with no context,” Lacey insisted, “Anyway, so far there’s...five clones, two of which are dead.”

“That’s where the live headcount stands right now,” he agreed, “The death toll is...significantly higher.”

“Because of this...bloodhound hitman boogeymonster fellow?”

Gaz wasn’t reassured the way they shared a look before the older man answered.

“During our research we found some...unsettling news reports,” he said haltingly, “Family of four brutally murdered… Mother and kids shot, the father… They’ve only found bits and pieces of him.”

“Jesus Christ…” Gaz muttered. Lacey put her head in her hands.

“It’s a similar MO, but the victims are spread over countries,” Belle said, “Murdered loved ones, the majority of the body never found…”

“And when you went to look at their pictures they all looked like versions of the same guy,” Gaz finished. He shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out Danny’s phone.

“What are you doing?” Nick barked.

“None of your fucking business!” He dialed the number without thinking, holding it to his ear.

           It rang and rang and rang until he got the answering machine. He dialed again and it rang and rang and-

“Who is this?”

           He had never been so grateful to hear that bastard Larry’s voice, “Nate and Mandy, they alright?”

“Gaz, is that you?”

“ARE NATE AND MANDY ALRIGHT?!”

           There was some mild shuffling, “We’re all asleep…or at least Mandy and I were. You on something?”

“Go check on Nate, please! Make sure he’s in his bed!”

“Sleep it off, will ya?” The line went dead.

           Gaz tossed the phone to the other side of the couch and jumped to his feet. Lacey was close behind.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” she insisted, grabbing for his arm.

           He shook her off, “I need to be sure!”

           She grabbed him by both shoulders, “Chill the fuck out.”

“It’s Nate, I’m not going to fucking chill until I know he’s alright!”

“Running over there in the middle of the night is going to make you look insane!”

“Your boy should be fine for now,” Rush said brusquely, “There’s a gap between his killings.”

“Yeah, well, that was before he saw two of us in the same place!”

    He tried to push by Lacey but she stood her ground; those heels must give her some advantage, he thought briefly, digging in  for leverage or something.

“Tomorrow,” she promised, “You heard Dr. Scientist; nothing will happen tonight. And you’re still covered in blood, which won’t go over well with any of them.”

    He looked between Lacey, Belle, and Dr. Rush and realized he wasn’t going fucking anywhere tonight. He eyed the older nerd version of himself.

“...you got anything I can change into, then?”

    Their bathroom could’ve been a studio apartment with a tub and toilet, and the shower was…awkward. Set into a corner with two glass walls, he felt like he was giving a bit of a show to whoever felt like coming in. But god did it feel good to get clean; the hot water even pushed Nate out of his mind temporarily.

           He should’ve expected how well the clothes would fit, but it was still eerie how it sagged in all the right places. As if they were only a few pounds between them.

           Clones… Like he was in some kind of sci-fi movie, an experiment gone wrong. This was too fucking weird for him… Having a guy look exactly like him was bad enough, but there was a whole swarm of them, and a hitman to boot.

           He had to convince Lacey that the best thing for them was to grab Nate and run. The scientist and his assistant wife could play the thriller game but Gaz didn’t want any part of it. He wasn’t the tiniest bit curious about any of this.

           When he came back to the living room Lacey was the only one there, lying face-up on the couch and swirling the ice around in her glass idly. He leaned on the back of the couch, bending down to look at her.

“You alright?”

           Her eyes moved from the ceiling to his face, “Pretty sure I’m still in shock.” She set the glass on the coffee table, propping herself up on her elbows, “…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Belle. Honestly I just don’t like thinking about it, you know?”

“I know.”

“I mean look at this shit,” she waved her hand around, “It’s ridiculous… I’m sure they earned it but still.”

           It was definitely a different lifestyle than they were used to.

“And where’d they go to?”

“I think they’re filling MacAvoy in on everything,” she eyed him, “…they’ve offered to let us stay what’s left of the night here.”

“You think I’m gonna sleep at all after that?”

“It’s a good drive back to Sheffield,” she sighed, “…and really, I don’t like the idea of just you and me against the clone serial killer. They seem like they’ve got a vague clue as to what’s going on, at least.”

That was pretty much the exact opposite of what he wanted… But if he wasn’t going to check on Nate, he might as well stay here.

“...sure,” he mumbled.

    First thing tomorrow morning though, they were heading back.

III

    The sleepy church on the outskirts of Middlesbrough was completely dark and silent, except for the quiet shuffle of feet across stone. Still dressed in his nightshift he moved towards the altar. He crossed himself and knelt before it, fumbling with the match before striking it and shakily lighting the candles.

“Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy Name…”

    He’d been asleep when the call had come. He had jolted upright and fumbled for the disposable cell phone they had given him, answering before he was capable of more than a garbled noise in greeting.

“Thy Kingdom come; Thy Will be done…”

    Begbie’s dead, Rush had announced, and he could hear sweet Belle in the background hissing at him. It was quick, he continued, ignoring her, bullet to the head, didn’t even know what hit him.

As if THAT were supposed to somehow comfort the fact another one of them had fallen victim to the serial killer.

“...on earth as it is in heaven. Give us…”

    We’ve got a new one, Gaz. He was pretending to be Danny; had no idea about any of this. Apparently if the hitman didn’t act first Begbie would’ve offed him.

“...give us this day our, our daily bread… and forgive us our trespasses…”

    He’s got a son, young-ish we think. You remember what it’s like at first; it’s all you can do just to wrap your head around it.

“...as we...forgive those who trespass against us. And, and lead us not into temptation but...deliver us...deliver us from evil.”

    Doesn’t help he got a firsthand look at what we’re dealing with. I think he’s getting out of the shower; Belle, love, you want to get the guest room ready?

“For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are Yours now and forever.”

    He looked up to the cross hanging behind the pulpit. Tears came to his eyes as the prayer remained open and as he thought about the last bottle he had on hand down in his quarters. It didn’t seem that long ago he had gone to a liquor store out of town, going to restock his “emergency supply”...and had literally run into Mr. Devine.

“...I’m so scared,” he whispered to it, shaking his head, “I know that everything is according to Your Plan...but I don’t want to die. I know there have been times I’ve thought about it, but I never truly meant it...”

    He had been on the road to sobriety before this had happened. Really he had just been looking for comfort of his own after having to give last rites to a long-time parishioner. But now… How could he be expected NOT to drink?

    His lip quivered, as the question that had been bothering him since Dr. Rush had theorized that they were clones spilled out.

“...does Begbie even have a soul to pray for? ...do I?”

    He stared at the cross but no divine miracle occurred; no angel descended with prophetic words. He didn’t even hear God’s voice inside of him the way he once had when he was called to ministry.

    Joseph was feeling the distinct difference between Mother Theresa’s insistence God would not give her more than she could handle...and Paul the Apostle saying God would not let them be tempted more than they could bear.

“...Lord, please protect me...and my brothers. Amen.”

#anyelle fic #NIcholas Rush #Belle #Lacey #Gaz #gary schofield #father macavoy