sheafrotherdon

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I cannot believe how lucky I am to get this wonderful JoeNicky commission from the lovely @chimchiri! Seriously go commission them, they're one of the best people I've ever worked with and I feel so privileged to be able to have art from them! I'm in transports of delight! 😭💖💖💖

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LOOK AT THIS DARLING

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winters kiss

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We can talk about the reasons that Nicky and Joe found themselves north of Gitchigami in early December in 1747, or we can talk about the fact that it was there that they saw their first moose. Emerging from the woods on an overclouded afternoon, the moose paused and looked directly at their position, some several hundred feet further down the trail.

Joe, a sensible man, broke into a set of fervent prayers he hadn’t said since childhood. Nicky went very, very still.

The moose sniffed the air twice, then huffed as if mildly annoyed to have had its stroll interrupted by humans, and turned to walk away from them both on frighteningly long legs.

“What is that?” hissed Joe.

Nicky did not reply. He was busy being very, very still.

Joe watched as the many-antlered, gangly creature whose name he did not know walked further away. Only then did he carefully turn his head to look at Nicky. “Nicolo?”

Nicky did not respond, as he was busy being very, very still. It was the kind of stillness Joe recognized from other moments in their long lives, and meant danger was imminent, which was not at all reassuring. 

Joe looked back up the trail at the creature’s prominent rump, and then back at Nicky.  This kind of stillness usually occurred before Nicky took aim at a ne’er-do-well with his arrows, his sword, his knives, or his flintlock, depending on the situation. Joe very much hoped Nicky had no intention of using any weaponry in any way, from this distance or any other, not only because he had no desire to annoy a four-legged beast of the woods who could passably crush them both on sight, but because the whatever-it-was was astonishing.

In the next second, Nicky relaxed completely and looked at Joe with a small smile. “We are well, Joe.”

Joe sputtered. “We are well?”

Nicky nodded, and gestured over his shoulder. “I think we should retrace our steps.”

Joe pointed up the trail at the figure of the creature in the distance. “And that?”

“We shall ask those we see about it,” said Nicky.

“There are no words,” Joe offered.

Nicky stuck his mittened hands atop his head. “We will mime.”

Joe looked around, as though there might be help, or someone else who could witness what he had to put up with on a daily basis. Seeing no one, he burst into laughter.

Nicky grinned at him. “What a tale we shall tell.”

“Of the tree-legged beast of the woods.”

“That turned you into a quivering wreck.”

“That turned you into a statue.”

Nicky clapped Joe on the shoulder. “We have both seen better days,” he acknowledged. “And yet neither of us vacated our bowels, and for that we should be congratulated.”

Joe felt a rush of giddiness that was the natural successor to fear, or the regular consequence of looking at Nicky and remembering he loved him very much. Either. Both. Joe did not care, but instead leaned in to kiss Nicky firmly on the mouth. “We will be braver in the retelling, my beloved.”

“Precisely,” said Nicky with a smile. “Back to the others?”

“Back,” Joe nodded, and they allowed themselves one last look at the creature before they headed toward camp, diligently plotting the ways in which their encounter might have gone differently, and swapping gleeful lies.

[sheafrotherdon]

We can talk about the reasons that Nicky and Joe found themselves north of Gitchigami in early December in 1747, or we can talk about the fact that it was there that they saw their first moose. Emerging from the woods on an overclouded afternoon, the moose paused and looked directly at their position, some several hundred feet further down the trail.

Joe, a sensible man, broke into a set of fervent prayers he hadn’t said since childhood. Nicky went very, very still.

The moose sniffed the air twice, then huffed as if mildly annoyed to have had its stroll interrupted by humans, and turned to walk away from them both on frighteningly long legs.

“What is that?” hissed Joe.

Nicky did not reply. He was busy being very, very still.

Joe watched as the many-antlered, gangly creature whose name he did not know walked further away. Only then did he carefully turn his head to look at Nicky. “Nicolo?”

Nicky did not respond, as he was busy being very, very still. It was the kind of stillness Joe recognized from other moments in their long lives, and meant danger was imminent, which was not at all reassuring. 

Joe looked back up the trail at the creature’s prominent rump, and then back at Nicky.  This kind of stillness usually occurred before Nicky took aim at a ne’er-do-well with his arrows, his sword, his knives, or his flintlock, depending on the situation. Joe very much hoped Nicky had no intention of using any weaponry in any way, from this distance or any other, not only because he had no desire to annoy a four-legged beast of the woods who could passably crush them both on sight, but because the whatever-it-was was astonishing.

In the next second, Nicky relaxed completely and looked at Joe with a small smile. “We are well, Joe.”

Joe sputtered. “We are well?”

Nicky nodded, and gestured over his shoulder. “I think we should retrace our steps.”

Joe pointed up the trail at the figure of the creature in the distance. “And that?”

“We shall ask those we see about it,” said Nicky.

“There are no words,” Joe offered.

Nicky stuck his mittened hands atop his head. “We will mime.”

Joe looked around, as though there might be help, or someone else who could witness what he had to put up with on a daily basis. Seeing no one, he burst into laughter.

Nicky grinned at him. “What a tale we shall tell.”

“Of the tree-legged beast of the woods.”

“That turned you into a quivering wreck.”

“That turned you into a statue.”

Nicky clapped Joe on the shoulder. “We have both seen better days,” he acknowledged. “And yet neither of us vacated our bowels, and for that we should be congratulated.”

Joe felt a rush of giddiness that was the natural successor to fear, or the regular consequence of looking at Nicky and remembering he loved him very much. Either. Both. Joe did not care, but instead leaned in to kiss Nicky firmly on the mouth. “We will be braver in the retelling, my beloved.”

“Precisely,” said Nicky with a smile. “Back to the others?”

“Back,” Joe nodded, and they allowed themselves one last look at the creature before they headed toward camp, diligently plotting the ways in which their encounter might have gone differently, and swapping gleeful lies.

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How do they keep making later and later stages of late-capitalism

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“Just let me be grumpy!” Joe says, slouched in the overstuffed armchair, arms folded across his chest and his mouth shaped into something dangerously close to a pout.

“Hmmm,” says Nicky, considering.

Joe glowers at him.

“I love you,” says Nicky. He crosses the room and leans down, hands propped on each arm of the chair as he brushes a kiss to Joe’s forehead.

Joe huffs and swats at him. “I know.”

Nicky tilts his head and looks at him. “Do you?”

“After nine hundred years?” asks Joe. “Yes, I know.”

“I don’t think you do,” says Nicky, and clambers to sit astride Joe’s thighs, hands on his shoulders.

“This isn’t helping,” grumbles Joe.

“Very sad,” says Nicky, as if a tragedy is genuinely at play. He kisses Joe on the cheek. “Awful.”

Joe clenches his jaw, a sure sign he’s trying not to smile.  “Nickyyyyy,” he whines.

Nicky kisses his other cheek. “Hmm?”

Joe’s hands shift, sliding to rest at Nicky’s hips. “You’re a monster.”

“Oh, without a doubt,” says Nicky, kissing the tip of Joe’s nose.

“A man can’t have a proper sulk with you around.”

“It’s true.” Nicky pauses, waiting for Joe to meet his gaze before he closes the gap between them and kisses him sweetly. Joe sighs into his mouth, slides his hands up under the back of Nicky’s t-shirt as the kiss shifts and deepens, and Nicky hums happily.  When they part Joe has to blink to clear his vision, and when he looks up at Nicky again the corner of his mouth is curved into a smile.

“Unfair,” he says, and tugs Nicky into a hug, all elbows and knees and murmured affection, the chair groaning quietly beneath them both.

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“Just let me be grumpy!” Joe says, slouched in the overstuffed armchair, arms folded across his chest and his mouth shaped into something dangerously close to a pout.

“Hmmm,” says Nicky, considering.

Joe glowers at him.

“I love you,” says Nicky. He crosses the room and leans down, hands propped on each arm of the chair as he brushes a kiss to Joe’s forehead.

Joe huffs and swats at him. “I know.”

Nicky tilts his head and looks at him. “Do you?”

“After nine hundred years?” asks Joe. “Yes, I know.”

“I don’t think you do,” says Nicky, and clambers to sit astride Joe’s thighs, hands on his shoulders.

“This isn’t helping,” grumbles Joe.

“Very sad,” says Nicky, as if a tragedy is genuinely at play. He kisses Joe on the cheek. “Awful.”

Joe clenches his jaw, a sure sign he’s trying not to smile.  “Nickyyyyy,” he whines.

Nicky kisses his other cheek. “Hmm?”

Joe’s hands shift, sliding to rest at Nicky’s hips. “You’re a monster.”

“Oh, without a doubt,” says Nicky, kissing the tip of Joe’s nose.

“A man can’t have a proper sulk with you around.”

“It’s true.” Nicky pauses, waiting for Joe to meet his gaze before he closes the gap between them and kisses him sweetly. Joe sighs into his mouth, slides his hands up under the back of Nicky’s t-shirt as the kiss shifts and deepens, and Nicky hums happily.  When they part Joe has to blink to clear his vision, and when he looks up at Nicky again the corner of his mouth is curved into a smile.

“Unfair,” he says, and tugs Nicky into a hug, all elbows and knees and murmured affection, the chair groaning quietly beneath them both.

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“Just let me be grumpy!” Joe says, slouched in the overstuffed armchair, arms folded across his chest and his mouth shaped into something dangerously close to a pout.

“Hmmm,” says Nicky, considering.

Joe glowers at him.

“I love you,” says Nicky. He crosses the room and leans down, hands propped on each arm of the chair as he brushes a kiss to Joe’s forehead.

Joe huffs and swats at him. “I know.”

Nicky tilts his head and looks at him. “Do you?”

“After nine hundred years?” asks Joe. “Yes, I know.”

“I don’t think you do,” says Nicky, and clambers to sit astride Joe’s thighs, hands on his shoulders.

“This isn’t helping,” grumbles Joe.

“Very sad,” says Nicky, as if a tragedy is genuinely at play. He kisses Joe on the cheek. “Awful.”

Joe clenches his jaw, a sure sign he’s trying not to smile.  “Nickyyyyy,” he whines.

Nicky kisses his other cheek. “Hmm?”

Joe’s hands shift, sliding to rest at Nicky’s hips. “You’re a monster.”

“Oh, without a doubt,” says Nicky, kissing the tip of Joe’s nose.

“A man can’t have a proper sulk with you around.”

“It’s true.” Nicky pauses, waiting for Joe to meet his gaze before he closes the gap between them and kisses him sweetly. Joe sighs into his mouth, slides his hands up under the back of Nicky’s t-shirt as the kiss shifts and deepens, and Nicky hums happily.  When they part Joe has to blink to clear his vision, and when he looks up at Nicky again the corner of his mouth is curved into a smile.

“Unfair,” he says, and tugs Nicky into a hug, all elbows and knees and murmured affection, the chair groaning quietly beneath them both.

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Empty

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If it works for the way you think, pack boxes by room (bedroom, kitchen), not by "type" of thing (e.g. all the vases together, all the cushions together). Then when you arrive at your new place, you don't have to wander, room to room, finding places for things while the whole place is a mess. You can unpack one whole room at a time. That has the added benefit of quickly providing a room that's a respite from all the other unpacking. I like to unpack the bathroom first. It's small, but wow does it help to walk past it and exhale . . . okay, that one's done.

I'm in the process of moving, so a few things that have worked for me:

If you know ahead of time that you'll be moving, start packing early. Seasonal clothes, things you know you won't need, etc. Just a box or two at a time can make the whole process a lot less overwhelming at go time. (I currently have an enormous pile of boxes sitting in the middle of my living room)

Books are dense and heavy-- I recommend packing them in things like cereal boxes and shoe boxes. Future you will thank you. (Unpacking small boxes is also less overwhelming than unpacking huge boxes full of everything).

Traditional boxes aren't your only option. A lot of my clothes are going in my reusable shopping bags, the aforementioned cereal and shoeboxes, etc.

Clothes make a good alternative to bubble wrap, but remember to stuff them loosely around fragile things.

Also use them to fill out boxes that are mostly full, so they don't squish when you set other boxes on top of them. Squished boxes make for unsteady stacks.

When you have furniture that comes with screws or tools or whatever, tape those things directly to one of the pieces of the disassembled furniture. It'll make finding them later on so much less of a headache.

[sheafrotherdon]

「可愛いお尻だね」

「うん、よく言われる」

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the appeal of studying human history is like. your brothers and sisters, who all died just before you got here, managed to pass down only a few things to you, and almost all of them are in your blood. the rest of your inheritance is scattered in ruins and tombs and libraries that have outlived their makers. they wanted you to know them but they are gone. will you look back into time and try to find whatever is left?

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HBD A03 from user #262. Amazing stuff.

Happy birthday to AO3 🎂🎉

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Joe watched Nicky study him. For once it was Joe who had taken the couch, sprawling happily with a good book in his hand, losing himself in a tale of dragons and witches and talking animals. He barely paid attention when Nicky came into the room -- right up until the point when Nicky plucked the book from his hands and crawled up over him, knees bracketing Joe's thighs, hands beside his shoulders.

"Hello," said Nicky solemnly.

Joe cracked a grin. "Hello," he said, reaching up to push Nicky's hair behind one ear. "Did you want something?"

"Hmm." Nicky tilted his head a little. "Perhaps."

"You have my attention."

The corner of Nicky's mouth quirked. "Well then." And he leaned in to graze Joe's lips with a kiss, a fleeting demonstration of affection that Joe found entirely insufficient.

"Nope," he said as Nicky began to pull back, and he reached up to curl a hand around the back of Nicky's neck and reeled him back in, kissing him sweetly and thoroughly and with a couple of absolutely filthy tricks.

By they time they parted, Nicky's hair was more disheveled than before, and his cheeks were pink, and his t-shirt askew. "I see," he said, solemn again, although his eyes were dancing.

"I'm glad," said Joe, and tugged at him until he laid down beside him. "Let me tell you about the talking mice."

I had a rough day. Bartender, one glass of the characters kissing, please

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How is there no option on here for Spirited? Which I just remembered existed and thereby improved my life by 4000%?

*slowly reaches for the popcorn*

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