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bonniebelleklyde · 4 years

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The Small Hours

Note: This fic takes place within what I believe we’re now calling the Mistletoe Universe. Chronologically, it takes place after A Storm to Weather and before Mistletoe. I would highly recommend reading both first to have a full context for this! Thanks to the lovely anon who sent in the prompt for this-- Logan returning the favor from A Storm to Weather and comforting Janus regarding an irrational fear.

Word Count: 2651

Pairing: Loceit (romantic)

Warnings: The warning is a spoiler! Check the tags if concerned.

Summary: In the small hours of the morning, Logan finds Janus in a rather unusual position.

When Logan rose before the sun—not an entirely uncommon occurrence—and made his way to the kitchen to brew a very strong pot of coffee, he was not particularly alarmed at the sight of a figure, obscured by the darkness of the room, sitting atop the refrigerator. He simply nodded in its direction.

“Good morning, Virgil,” he said before stifling a yawn. “It’s a bit early for you, yes?”

There was nothing but silence in response. That was...odd. Concerned that something was troubling Virgil beyond his normal levels of anxiety, Logan flipped the light switch and jumped a bit when the light revealed that it was not Virgil at all sitting on top of the refrigerator, but Janus.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I—what are you doing up there?”

Logan was hardly an expert in these things, but something was definitely off about Janus, even absent the fact that Logan had never seen anyone other than Virgil choose this particular seating arrangement. Janus was fidgeting with his gloves, a habit that Logan had come to realize as indicative of nervousness in the deceitful side. He was also noticeably avoiding eye contact and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Unsure how to proceed, Logan followed Janus’s lead and averted his eyes, waiting for some sort of response. When he received none, he furrowed his brows in confusion. Janus was not exactly known for holding his tongue.

“Is something wrong?” he tried again, endeavoring to communicate through his tone that he was not prying for curiosity’s sake, but rather attempting to offer whatever assistance might be required. Logan doubted he was successful in this endeavor—he was rarely successful in conveying any tone to speak of, his words always seeming to come out dry and hollow.

“No, no, don’t mind me. Nothing’s wrong,” Janus said in a voice so quiet that Logan suspected it would have been drowned out by the sound of the coffee maker had the logical side turned it on.

Logan cocked his head to one side, turning over Janus’s words in his mind for a moment before gently shrugging his shoulders.

“You know, one would think—given who you are—that you would be better at that.”

It was Janus’s turn to furrow his brows.

“Better at what?”

“Lying.”

Janus blinked hard, his mouth falling open in an expression that Logan couldn’t be sure indicated offense or shock.

“I am literal deceit.”

Logan nodded, a small smirk crossing his face. “My point exactly— literal deceit should be more…adept at deception, no?”

Janus scratched at the back of his neck and did not speak for several long moments. Logan cursed himself inwardly— he hadn’t meant to offend, but he almost certainly had. He had essentially just told Janus (to his face, no less) that the other was bad at his job.

“I’m sorry,” he said after it became clear Janus was not planning on providing any sort of response. “I did not mean to imply that you are always—”

Janus cut Logan off by gently holding up his gloved hand, a tentative smile on his face.

“I know,” he said simply. “And you’re right. It was a lie. But I don’t…”

It was Logan’s turn to interrupt. “Janus. I don’t intend to pry.”

Logan was reminded of the night when Janus had first become privy to the logical side’s irrational fear of thunder. He certainly hadn’t pried—had not mocked Logan or passed judgment in any way. He had not forced Logan to talk about his fear—a fact that Logan was exceedingly grateful for. No, Janus had simply…stayed. He’d borne out the storm beside him, with a steadying arm around Logan’s shoulders, for no other discernible reason than the simple fact that Logan had been afraid. Janus…Janus had been lovely. And he’d gone on to be equally lovely during the handful of thunderstorms that had occurred since that night. Almost immediately after the first crash of thunder sounded from each storm, Janus would materialize wherever Logan happened to be at the time. He wouldn’t say a word about the storm itself or about Logan’s silly fear. He’d beckon for Logan to sit beside them, and together they’d make their way through one novel or another, taking turns reading aloud to each other until either the storm had passed or they had drifted into sleep. Though his fear of thunder had never subsided, Logan became strangely fond of thunderstorms. Increasingly, he’d found himself wanting to…well. It didn’t matter what he wanted.

What did matter was that, through every embarrassing moment of it all, Janus was lovely. And while lovely was not a word Logan would ever attribute to himself, the very least he could do was—in the face of Janus’s obvious discomfort—afford the other his privacy.

There was a subtle change in Janus’s expression at Logan’s words. It seemed…softer, somehow. Logan quickly averted his eyes once again when he caught himself starting to stare. The last thing he wanted to do was make Janus any more uncomfortable than he apparently already was. He wondered briefly if Janus, too, was reminded of the storms. He became suddenly aware of how long the silence between them had stretched on for, and he coughed to dispel the strange tension hanging in the air. Remembering his motivation for entering the kitchen in the first place, Logan crossed the room to the coffee maker.

“Coffee?” he offered before chuckling softly when Janus wrinkled his nose. “Not a fellow caffeine enthusiast, then?”

“Oh, I drink plenty of tea,” Janus responded, his tone finally sounding a bit lighter now. “But I’ll never understand how you can drink that stuff—coffee is disgusting.”

Logan snorted in amusement as he began spooning out coffee grounds from his hidden stockpile. “Are you sure? You might find that you like mine— I keep the quality grounds well hidden from the others. You’ll find that the taste of coffee can vary quite widely depending on the type and origin of beans used to prepare it.”

“Is that so?” Janus returned, one eyebrow raised in skepticism. “Very well, I’ll try it if you like, but I make no promises regarding my reaction.”

Logan hummed in amusement, grinning as he got the brew started. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Janus nervously scanning the kitchen floor. Was there some sort of rodent about? Logan wondered idly but did not ask. Instead, he summoned a book—The Mystery of Edwin Drood—from its place on his nightstand, brandishing it for Janus to see before taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“I believe we left off on Chapter Three?” Logan asked quietly, turning to the appropriate page and looking to Janus’s face to determine whether this was the right course of action.

Janus’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and his grin widened just a bit. He shifted his position so that his back rested against the wall behind the refrigerator and closed his eyes.

“Yes, that sounds about right.”

Logan sported his own small grin as he lay the book out on the table in front of him.

“Excellent. Though I still don’t understand why you chose a book that is only half finished,” he remarked, his tone only slightly teasing.

Janus’s grin faltered at that, his eyes snapping open, and Logan worried that he may have inadvertently insulted the deceitful side once again. But Janus spoke before Logan could make his hurried apologies, his tone not offended but hesitant, perhaps even a bit nervous.

“I had thought…er, well…I thought that perhaps it might be interesting to trade theories about how it might have ended once we’ve finished. If you’d like to, that is.”

Logan was taken aback for a moment at the knowledge that Janus had selected this title because he was interested in discussing theories with him. That was…unusual. Logan was far more accustomed to his own academic musings being tolerated at best. The idea that someone valued them enough to actively seek them out…well, that was…that was quite pleasant. Logan felt something he couldn’t name—a warmth of some sort—bubble up in his chest, and he beamed up at Janus, not having the slightest clue why the other seemed so very nervous to reveal this incredible information to him.

“I think I would enjoy that immensely,” he said genuinely. “There are few things I find more satisfying than parsing out a good mystery, as you well know.”

Janus must have read Logan’s sincerity in his face, because the deceitful side’s apprehension melted away to be replaced by a brilliant smile to match Logan’s own. The corners of Logan’s lips were still tipped up as he watched Janus’s eyes fall closed again and as Logan began to read from the book.

Before long, he was interrupted by a buzzing sound signaling that the pot of coffee had finished brewing. Logan paused his reading and strode over to the cupboard to retrieve two mugs. When he’d poured both drinks, he looked to Janus with questioning eyes.

“Will you be joining me at the table, or should I hand this to you up there?”

He asked the question gently, kindly in a way that he hoped invited Janus to reveal whether there was some way that Logan could help him with his current predicament without pushing too forcefully. Janus averted his eyes and chewed at his lip.

“I…don’t normally make a habit of sitting up here,” he said slowly after several moments.

“No, you don’t,” Logan confirmed simply with a nod, leaning against the counter as he waited for the other to continue.

“It’s ridiculous,” Janus said through gritted teeth, clearly frustrated. “I don’t…I am being ridiculous.”

Janus’s face was bright red, and he seemed as if he was endeavoring to look anywhere but Logan’s face, and Logan turned his own gaze downward in an effort to minimize the other’s discomfort.

“More ridiculous than shaking like a leaf during every thunderstorm?” Logan asked softly, a small self-deprecating smile on his face.

At that, Janus’s eyes snapped up immediately to meet Logan’s.

“You are not ridiculous,” and something about the amount of sheer conviction in Janus’s voice stole every bit of Logan’s breath from him. “You are…”

Janus trailed off, either unable to come up with a word for what Logan was or unwilling to voice whatever word he may have had in mind.

“Well. Regardless,” the deceitful side continued, glancing away from Logan’s face once again. “I am being ridiculous. It really is so trivial, I…I should just come down…”

When Janus made no move to come down off of the refrigerator despite his words, Logan thought for a moment before offering, “Might there be anything I could do that would make coming down at all easier for you?”

It was clear from the hesitant look on Janus’s face that there was. In that moment, Logan wished he could be someone else—Roman or Patton perhaps, who were so much better at assuaging fears and dealing in emotions than Logan was. Janus deserved someone who was more practiced at this—who knew how to help Janus in the extraordinary way that Janus had helped Logan. Still, it was far too early for anyone else to be awake, so he supposed he would have to do.

“For what it is worth,” he said quietly, not having the slightest idea of what to say other than the simple truth, “I could never think you are ridiculous. You could tell me that you are up there to hide from the coffee pot, and I would think no less of you. You could tell me anything at all. I would never reveal the information to anyone else, and I would certainly never judge you.”

The words were inadequate, he was sure of it, but they were all Logan had. He watched with concern as Janus’s brow furrowed and his face contorted into an expression that Logan was not able to read. At the very least, Logan knew that Janus could be certain he was not lying. At long last, the deceitful side met his eyes once more with that same, unreadable expression.

“I’m afraid of spiders,” Janus finally confessed, his tone strained. “Virgil’s stupid pet must have escaped, because I woke up with the damned thing on my pillow, and it followed me into the kitchen.”

“Oh!” Logan responded, somewhat relieved that the situation was one that he could help with after all—and likely very easily at that. “I’ve actually assisted in retrieving it for Virgil several times. It should be no trouble doing so again. Do you have any idea where it might be now?”

Janus was hiding his face behind his hands now.

“I think it crawled under the oven, the last I saw.”

Roughly ten minutes later and with the practiced use of paper and string, Logan had successfully located the spider under the stove and seen it returned to its cage in Virgil’s room. Janus choked out a strained but sincere thank you, his face now an alarming shade of red.

“Thank me by coming down here and trying my coffee. I’ll make a convert out of you yet,” Logan teased, hoping the change in subject would lessen Janus’s embarrassment.

Logan lifted his hand in an offer to help Janus down from the refrigerator. Janus stared at the hand stretched out to him for just a moment before taking it and climbing down onto the counter and then finally to the floor. Logan found himself wishing—however irrationally—that Janus would forget to let go of his hand when his feet were once again on the ground, that Logan could remove Janus’s glove and interlace their fingers together, that they could—

Logan shook his head as if to physically shake that particular line of thought from his mind. He wondered briefly what it meant that he was thinking about such things with increasing frequency and resolved to consult Roman or Patton about the matter later. For now, he focused on keeping away the frown that threatened to form when Janus inevitably did let go of his hand.

“Alright,” Janus said with a small sigh as he took a seat at the table and looked toward Logan expectantly. “let’s get this over with.”

Logan smirked and handed a mug to Janus before taking the seat across from him. He nearly snorted his own coffee through his nose at the look of pure disgust on Janus’s face the moment the liquid had reached his tongue.

“I take it you’re not convinced?” he asked, not entirely successful in his effort to ward off a bout of laughter.

“This is revolting,” Janus said, glaring at his mug as though it had insulted him. “This is worse than what the others drink. I don’t know how you can stand it.”

Logan snickered and downed his own coffee in three gulps, more to prove a point than anything.

“Mark my words, I’ll sway you one day,” he promised, though not entirely serious.

“Can’t imagine how,” Janus said with a roll of his eyes before stretching out his hand. “Here, give me the book; I’ll pick up where you left off.”

Logan couldn’t help but grin as he handed the volume over. They had never before engaged in this strange practice of reading aloud to one another outside the context of a distraction from fear. Janus caught the grin and shot one back as he flipped to the correct page.

“May as well keep going. I’m eager to hear your thoughts on the identity of the murderer.”

There was that peculiar warmth in Logan’s chest again. This time, he simply allowed himself to bask in it. He would find clarity and answers regarding these strange and pleasant feelings Janus seemed to provoke in him later. For now, it was more than enough that they were there.

#fanfic #loceit #mistletoe #mistletoeverse #logan sanders #janus sanders #tw arachnophobia #romantic loceit

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putschki1969 · 3 years

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2021/06/13 Blog post by Wakana あの瞬間をぎゅっと！！〜保存の仕方教えてください〜

Embracing that moment tightly!! ~ Please tell me the best preservation methods ~

❗This is Fan Club EXCLUSIVE content❗ ❗PERSONAL USE ONLY❗ Do ❗NOT SHARE❗ on other sites ❗ Join her FAN CLUB! Check out my detailed TUTORIAL ❗

We have prepared a question for everyone as we are working on the next fan club newsletter!!! This time’s topic is "Please recommend some easily preserved dishes and tell me the best preservation methods!!” This is something we always have to worry about, isn’t it? During the rainy season and in summer, I feel like I'm thinking about it every single day (.-_-.) *laughs* In winter, when you make a big pot you don't even have to put it in the refrigerator, you can just put the whole thing in a cool area and it will stay fresh for a long time. But in the summer time, if you don't put it in the fridge, everything will go bad immediately! I can't just leave my miso soup standing somewhere! Moreover, even IF you put it in the refrigerator, it will still turn bad quickly! I am not the only one worrying about stuff like that constantly, or am I ...??? *laughs* Therefore, if you try to prepare simple dishes that are easy to preserve, you will naturally end up with a lot of traditional Japanese dishes. Boiled veggies, veggies pickled in vinegar, stir-fried ginger, stir-fried miso, etc. Ah, namul is also super delicious ~ (* ´ω` *) I really like Korean food!

Please share your secrets and wisdom with me! !! !! How are you guys doing it?? What are the best ways to store vegetables for example?!! I want to know everything!! Some surprsing and overlooked methods maybe? Something other than just storing it in the fridge. I’m looking forward to your contributions! !! !! !! ･: * +. \ ((° ω °)) /.:+ https://wakana-fc.jp/contents/432895

Hello, this is Wakana (0￣ ▽ ￣0) /

my mind is always focused on food, so please help me out~ ♪

By the way, as I mentioned on Instagram the other day, I watched an edit of the video footage of my "Wakana Spring Live ~ magic moment ~ 2021" Blu-ray which is set to be released on August 11th!!! My long over-due “magic moment” concert, performing with my band for the first time in about two years, it was truly a special moment beyond my imagination. I'm really happy to see all the band members coming together to create music in such a hapy manner in the video. Everyone seems to be having a lot of fun, Tsuruya-san on his drums always has a big smile on his face when he plays and it seems like his physical strength really comes across so well on screen. Hamasaki-san on bass was quietly playing a refined sound and just looking super cool, Ueda-san on guitar is clearly enjoying himself and the music with a great look on his face whenever he got to really lean into a solo, Takebe-san on keyboard always has a serious look on his face but that’s just how he is I want all of you to see these small movements and expressions of the band members in the video...! Because this way, you can experience "the feeling of actually being at the venue"! This time, the performance itself and the documentary were produced by director Ayumi Sakamoto, who also filmed the MV of "Toki ni wa Mukashi no Hanashi wo". Director Ayumi-san did an amazing job filming wonderful footage that firmly captures the audience's desire of wanting to see specific scenes during a live. The video editing staff also poured all of their love into the Blu-ray, the video really conveys the passionate feelings of everyone involved in the making of this concert. It it not just a mere live put onto a blu-ray disc, it is so much more. The unique sounds and the heat of the moment are also captured within that small blu-ray package. The passion and effort of every single staff member who contributed to this live is also packed into the blu-ray. And then we have the documentary which is super interesting too! I feel like at this point it's okay to show a lot of myself in footage like that \\\\ ٩ ('ω') و //// *laughs* I also talk a lot about various things, so please be sure to check it out once you have received your copy!!! We also recorded a lot of the rehearsals! However, personally, I think the actual backstage footage made me laugh the most. You honestly have to watch it! *laughs*

Well then, I will leave it at that. Last but not least, here’s a picture of the japchae I made yesterday. I have been growing my own green peppers. I love japchae!!!

Until next time~ ☆ (*'▽' *) /

*** Wakana ***

Wakana Instagram post

#kalafina #wakana #wakana bog #botanical land #fan club exclusive content #I cannot wait for the bluray

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itsclydebitches · 5 years

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Discredit Pt. 2: More Recommended Reviews For A.Z. Fell’s

Alright, folks. Some notes first:

1. You all rock. I’m sending out 20k+ virtual hugs for all the notes I NEVER expected to get on this nonsense.

2. This is probably the final section, just because I’m not sure I can adequately follow up part one and it might be foolish to attempt it here. Let alone twice. But for now, here we go.

3. Kudos to the anon who reminded me of Aziraphale’s cash-only policy <3

4. Nicole Y’s review is based off an actual comment I read years ago, but heaven only knows where online it was. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish.

5. Trigger warning for the use of a queer slur in this. It’s the same review as above, number 5 if you want to avoid it.

6. There’s a text-only version of just the reviews at the end, after all the images. I’ll upload that to my Sparse Clutter collection on AO3 in a bit.

Bonus 7. People thinking this is a real shop deserve all the good things in this world.

That’s all I’ve got. Hope you enjoy! 👍

****************************************************************************

I’m a simple guy who likes simple jokes. If there’s a whoopee cushion I plant it. I will call you up to ask if your refrigerator is running and then tell you to go catch it. (Actually that one died out so thoroughly it’s actually capable of a comeback now!). Yes, I’m a dad and yes, I have a t-shirt that says Dad Jokes? I Think You Mean Rad Jokes! which I wear un-ironically every Saturday. All of which is just to say that my wife was well prepared for my stupidity when I walked into Fell’s.

I? I was not.

You see the bibles when you walk in? The ones to the left? Let them be. Don’t even look at them. Definitely don’t pick out the fanciest one you can find and absolutely don’t walk up to the owner with it held in your pudgy little fingers, grinning like a loon, cheerfully asking whether this should be in the fiction section. Just don’t. Mark my words you’ll regret it. Though your wife won’t. She’ll get a great old laugh out of it all.

In conclusion: it’s quite possible that mama did raise a fool and he just got his ass verbally whooped by a guy in a bowtie.

***

Shout-out to Mr. Fell for being the only decent bloke in this city. I’ve popped in and out of his store for years—including before I started transitioning. So he knew my dead name, dead look, whole shebang and I was definitely nervous to play the ‘You know me, but this is what’s changed and are you gonna throw a fit about it?’ game.

You know what he said? “Oh, Rose! What a lovely choice. Crowley dear, why aren’t you growing any roses? Some white ones would look splendid next to my Henredon chair.”

That’s it. He just went straight into dragging his partner for not giving him roses. So hey, Mom? Next time you’re snooping through my social media why don’t you explain to all these nice people why the 50+yo book seller accepts me in ways you won’t. Don’t go telling me age is an excuse or that you’re ‘Stuck in your ways.’ I’ve watched Fell dress in the same damn clothes since I was ten!!

Yeah. Sorry. Rant over. Fell’s a gem. That’s my take. Rose out.

***

Anyone else in the shop when that guy started yelling about buying pornography? And then got escorted into the back room for some ‘private conversation’? Well done, Mr. Fell! Didn’t know you had it in you.

***

Alright alright alright alright I am TOTALLY calm about this.

Went into A.Z. Fell’s last Thursday. Not because I knew anything about the place. Just because I’ve been hitting up every bookshop within a twenty-mile radius, asking if they’re hosting any book signings. Long story short I self-published my novel Blight last month—which you can get for a mere £5 here but I swear this isn’t a promotional thing I’m just BROKE—and have been looking for networking opportunities, tips, stuff like that. So the owner listened politely as I explained all this. Then said he didn’t do anything of that sort, which didn’t surprise me given the shop’s vibe.

But then? Then??? He offered to let me do a signing there??????

As said. Totally calm about this. This man either plans to kidnap me or is actually giving me my first shot at an audience outside my blog. AKA totally worth the risk.

Tuesday the 9th. 7:00pm. Just in case anyone’s interested ;)

***

holy sweet baby jesus i was tripping balls last week you tryin’ to tell me that kING KONG SIZED FANGED FUCK SNAKE IS REAL

***

Witnessed the most perfect exchange the other day:

Grumpy Dude With No Manners: “You. Boy. Where’s the man I spoke with over the phone?”

Mr. Fell’s Partner Who Knows Damn Well Only Two of Them Work There But Clearly Doesn’t Like This Guy’s Tone: “Did this man give you his name?”

Grumpy Dude: “Might have. Don’t remember. Sounded like a fairy though.”

Me: “....”

My girlfriend: “....”

This Poor Sweet Startled Kid On Our Left: “?!?!?!?”

Fell’s Partner In The Drollest Voice I’ve Ever Heard: “None of us have wings. Out!”

***

This shop gets full stars simply because every time I walk in they’re playing Queen.

I mean, I’ve walked in once, but once is enough when you’ve got Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasting full volume.

***

Okay, I’m still kind of shaken up but I needed to write this out somewhere and this seemed as good a place as any.

I spilled my latte on a book. Just tripped on thin air, popped the lid, and chucked a venti’s worth of coffee all over a very expensive looking text. I didn’t mean to, obviously, but it happened and I just started bawling on the spot. Full on sobs because this semester has been absolute hell, I ruined this guy’s antique, there’s no way I can pay for it, I can’t even sneak away because I’m drawing the whole store’s attention...just all the things all at once. I really was straight up panicking and was seconds away from pulling out my inhaler. I couldn’t breathe.

And then Mr. Fell showed up.

Jesus it’s embarrassing to admit but I think I hit him once or twice. On the arms I mean, because he was trying to touch me and I figured, I don’t know, it was a restraint or something. He was going to call the police and hold me until they got there. But then he managed to start rubbing my back and I lost it like I hadn’t already been bawling my eyes out in this shop. Ever cry into a perfect stranger’s chest? I have! But if Mr. Fell seemed to mind he definitely didn’t show it. Just kept holding me while I probably ruined his shirt and then took me into the back and made me a new coffee in this cute little angel mug. He let me stay there while I called my sister and waited for her to arrive.

She’s a good twenty minutes outside of Soho, so we talked for a while. It’s not like Mr. Fell could fix my shit roommate or bio classes, but I guess just talking about it all really helped. I was a lot calmer by the time my sis arrived and Mr. Fell insisted I come back any time I wanted—for browsing or more coffee.

Of course, sis offered to pay for the book herself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so surprised in my life. “Certainly not!” he said. “Contrary to popular belief, no one should pay for their mistakes. It’s what makes you all so wonderfully human.”

So yeah. Thanks, Mr. Fell.

***

This little shop must have started a book club for kids! Lately I’ve seen the same group of children hanging out at Fell’s. Three boys and a girl. They’re a bit rambunctious at times, but who isn’t at that age? So wonderful seeing literature passed down to the next generation. Even if some of it is rather questionable looking...

***

It’s an honest crime that more of you aren’t talking about what a wonderful bookstore this is.

I’m a book lover at heart and Fell’s always makes me feel like I’m coming home. I just arrived somewhere safe and familiar after a particularly harrowing day. I’ve slipped under the covers of my bed after dinner and a bubble bath. It’s something like that, but with an element of surprise too. One of the reasons why I adore private and used shops over chain stores is that little touch of chaos. You walk in and sure, there are general sections to browse, but everything is just a little bit disorganized from people leafing through books and then putting them back somewhere else. There’s no real record keeping, you’ve just gotta head to one particular corner and hope for the best. It’s not the sort of place you go to if you want something specific because the chances of them having it are slim—that’s just how the universe works—and even if they did no employee knows where it is anymore.

But if you wander the shelves for a while, crouch down low to get a look at everything on the bottom shelf, pay attention to the books that don’t have easy to read titles or any summaries to speak of... you just might find something you didn’t know you were looking for. That’s Fell’s: the comfort of the familiar and the excitement of the unknown.

*** A lot of people might assume that these stories are embellished or outright made up, but as a bookseller myself going on twenty years I believe every single one of them.

That being said, I accidentally moved a rug and found chalk sigils that look like they belong in a cult. Make of that what you will.

***

There’s a special place in hell for 21st century shop owners that only take cash. Who carries cash anymore? Not me! I haven’t bothered with that nonsense in years! You can get a card reader for 15 pounds on Amazon. Or you know what? Be stingy and pay 7 for the little attachment on your phone. This place is nuts if it thinks it’s going to survive much longer on a cash-only policy, especially with some books that look like they’re worth hundreds or thousands of pounds! Yeah, yeah, just let me pull out this giant wad of bills for you. I’ll carry them around a crime-laden city because there’s no ATM near you either.

I mean jesus, you’d think this guy didn’t want to sell anything.

***

I walked in. There was a man screaming at a fern while another threatened him with an umbrella. I walked out.

5 stars do recommend.

***

I once walked in on the same (?) guy yelling at a book for daring to fall on the owner’s head. I think that’s just a Thing over there.

***

Like a lot of people here I didn’t actually go to Fell’s for any books (flat tire, Angel Recovery taking forever) and ended up staying three hours (not because of Angel). No, I wandered towards the back and found this ancient CRT set propped on a table of books, the kind that my Dad used to watch Twilight Zone on. This lanky guy had a marathon of Gilmore Girls going... though how he was managing that with a broken antenna and no DVR, I really don’t know. But yeah. He told me to pull up a chair and I did. Guy gave me popcorn.

I wish I’d paid a little more attention to his name. Charlie? Curley? I really can’t remember, but thanks for the enjoyable afternoon, man.

***

I BOUGHT A BOOK HERE

Not sure how though. Just kinda happened. First edition of Just William. Frankly I didn’t even want the thing, but the owner basically shoved me out the door with it when I took two seconds to look at the spine. Odd that he was so willing to part with this one.

Update: ... hold up. I didn’t buy a book because I never actually paid the guy. ‘Basically shoved me out the door’ was literal. Do I go back??

***

This page has really gone feral the last couple of months so I’m just gonna bite the bullet and say it:

Anyone notice that Fell’s snake and Fell’s partner are never in the same room together?

***

I really don’t like the implications of this…

***

This is precisely why the Internet has turned into a cesspool. You all should be ashamed of some of the stuff you’re writing here. Can’t two men just be friends anymore? Two real life men? These guys aren’t some characters for you to ‘ship’ or whatever. Quit making outrageous assumptions about their sexualities and use this website for what it’s actually for: reviewing the bookshop. Honestly I’m so sick of this sort of this shit.

***

Dude. They run a queer-focused shop together with a flat on the second floor. Fell calls the guy ‘Dear’ and he’s always calling him ‘Angel.’ People have literally seen them kissing. If you want I can give you the number of my physician. He might be able to help you pull your head out of your ass.

***

What the hell is your problem? I’m literally just reminding people to stop making assumptions. It’s gross and insulting. These guys check their Yelp page. You really think they’re gonna be okay with this stuff?

Also: I’m not the five-year-old relying on insults, so.

***

Making an account purely to set the record straight: I’m the hot twink in question and I married that angel. Peace

#good omens #ineffable husbands #air conditioning #good omens fic #guess who spent 48 hours doing nothing but writing and formatting #can I get a wahoo

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starstuffandalotofcoffee · 3 years

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ok like do u think we in the US could have a program where if adults dont want to get the vaccine they can "donate" their dose to literally any of the communities/countries that will need and actually take advantage of it?? Like ok u dont want the vaccine and want us all to live with covid forever or die from it understood but like then why not just give it away?? And then like at the end of every month the donated doses can go to the places that need it. Would people go for that??

well, since you said I could, here are my thoughts!

I do not think the US has a set number of vaccines manufactured, like, there's not just one vaccine set aside per person - there was early on when they were prioritizing people, but at this point there are sufficient doses basically everywhere within the US and supply is further complicated by shifting eligibility as the vaccine gets approved for younger children/boosters become recommended for more groups. So this would already probably be purely symbolic and not a real sending of an earmarked dose.

The two-dose vaccine will keep at refrigerator-level temperatures for "up to a month" so the timing gets very dicey...it's a little bit of an "eat up the leftovers, there are starving children in Africa" to me, like, one should help those people but the literal vaccine that would have gone to you is not going to another country. So again: purely symbolic

The sort of person who is rejecting the vaccine is probably not the sort of person to care much about people in other countries, particularly if they are nonwhite people in other countries. They also probably won't want to tell the government or pharmaceutical companies anything. Programs of this nature - donating what should have gone to you to someone else in need - rely on a certain level of compassion for your fellow human beings and like...I think there are people who are holding off on the vaccine for reasons such as medical racism but I think many people will not get vaccinated because they openly embrace the "I got mine"/the cruelty is the point/"don't tell me what to do unless you're a conservative news outlet, and if a liberal told me not to jump off a bridge I would do it out of spite" mentality that is at the core of the modern Republican party.

I think one of the most illustrative experiences I had during the pandemic was a person I work with who, early on (spring 2020) was both parroting the "well, it's only like 0.01% of people who get really sick and die, right" (wrong, pre-vaccine the death rate was in the 2-3% range, closer to 2% in much of the US and wealthy countries with the most advanced healthcare) while also saying that they were mad they couldn't get an N95...for a disease they didn't believe was a real problem. They then were required to get vaccinated to keep their job and did get the vaccine but were FURIOUS. The mentality isn't "oh, I'm not using this so please, take it!" The mentality for many people is "I don't want it but also me first"; they would rather throw an unused dose in the garbage, every time.

#we cannot come up with policies or programs that rely on conservatives acting like decent human beings

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brooklynislandgirl · 3 years

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@tangleweave {{xx}}

Over the years since the apartment went from a home full of love and joy when Andy’s rescue-wing were stationed here in Brooklyn at Floyd Bennett Field to the expanse of emptiness that Stephen can see it is now; a museum of relics to the life Beth doesn’t live any more, she’s grown into it like a shell. Once through its doors, it is her fairy-tale tower where nothing is supposed to be able to touch her. Where she can lick her proverbial wounds that never seem to close fully on their own. Where she can stay frozen in stasis, wandering around inured to dreams that have all gone dark. And while she was far from where she believed she’d be by now, while she wasn’t even merely content, it was enough. She was doing good works. She was holding to the vow of first doing no harm. An ordinary life with ordinary things in them. Cutting herself off from almost everything she’d lost.

She doesn’t need to look around. She can see the massive loft apartment in her mind’s eye with an intimacy that most people never achieve. She should have taken down the guitars in their acrylic cases. She should have packed up the photographs. The ones showing what had been. None of them having been taken since after the funeral. She should have put her brother’s massive vinyl record collection into crates and from there into storage. They take up more room on the exposed brick than her various plants and surfboards do. Try as much as she might, she just can’t bring herself to do it. It might mean that she was ready to move on, and that is far from the truth. She holds onto things, the fragmented, the broken, the lost. With that same stalwart dedication, she tries to hold onto herself.

Dinner had begun half an hour before, precisely at 7:30 pm, just as it did every Sunday. Two courses down, two more to go. Not a single word had broken the terse silence at the large mahogany table where the Admiral sat at the head in his customary place and she’d been seated three feet away and to his right. She did not cringe a single time as forks and knives moved across porcelain dishes. The muscle in his jaw worked as he chewed and it felt like wordless castigation somehow even if she couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. One hand lay limply in her lap, the other holds her fork poised over a mix of greens, but she has no appetite. All she really wants to do is drain her wine glass, daub at her lips with her linen napkin and beg to be excused. Just as she did every Sunday. And like all the rest of these interminable repasts, she isn’t able to effect her escape. The Admiral sets down his silverware ~actual silver, brought over from County Antrim~ and washes down his salade Niscois with chilled ice water. He reaches up and smooths down his carefully groomed moustache. Then he fixes her with his steely gaze, the same green eyes that her brother had had, the ones that rest in her own face, only his lack even the remotest speck of warmth. “You received your letter for your summer rotation. Were you going to tell me about it, Elizabeth, or was I supposed to find out when the papers reported on it?” Both hands are in her lap now, fingers twisted together, nails biting half-moon shapes into her palms. “No, Sir. I’m sorry, sir.” “I don’t want your apology, I want to know who they paired you with. I put in a word with Nicodemus West, on your behalf. He’s not in our orbit, but he’s patient enough and you’d be lucky to have him.” Her stomach becomes encased with ice. She’s never going to live this down in his eyes. Personal recommendation notwithstanding… “Thank you, sir. I’ve been...I've been assigned to Doctor Strange, actually.”

She might as well have told the Admiral that she’d committed war crimes while setting the American flag on fire. Oh how he’d raged at her. He called the man arrogant, an egotist of the first water, a New Money libertine that would only stain her already precarious reputation. He demanded that she speak to the board president or that he would make the call for her. Beth had then set her napkin aside and asked sincerely and politely if she might powder her nose. The Admiral understood what she meant, but couldn’t help himself with a parting shot saying that her complexion did look mottled. Once the door closed behind her, she immediately sat on the only space available, opened her purse and bypassed her compact completely. Instead, she grabbed her phone and fired off two very discreet emails. One to the rotation administrator accepting her three month work along, and the second to Stephen himself, thanking him for the opportunity, that she looked forward to working under his supervision. That would be the first of many personal emails between them. The first time she’d directly fought for Stephen, or more correctly, the first time she realised it. Beth had always had a competitive streak a mile wide. And with a class size of over six hundred students that year, she might have been one of the youngest students but by no means the only talented one. But the moment she’d stepped into the lecture hall, precisely three minutes and forty two seconds late, illuminated by the bright glow of the smart board because the only place to sit was at the very front row.

His stare could have impaled a rogue comet, and the lines around his mouth felt like chasms ready to swallow her whole. “Miss Riley, how very fortunate we are to be graced with your presence. I’m going to assume for the sake of argument that you felt your coffee order was much more important than this class, because you already know all there is to know about this particular case.”

When the earth was not kind enough to open up beneath her feet and swallow her before she’d had to admit her watch had stopped, she managed to glance at the words on the screen: Partially Thrombosed Giant Posterior Inferior Cerebellar Artery Aneurysm Mimicking A Fourth Ventricular Tumour. She fixed a demure smile to her lips and returned her gaze to meet his unflinchingly. “Depends, Doctor, on what you mean by that exactly. Posterior circulation aneurysms are less common compared to the anterior circulation aneurysm. Dissection distal Posterior Inferior Cerebellar Artery, better known as PICA, aneurysm is almost unheard of. In this case report, the surgeon assigned to this patient manages to diagnose her within six minutes of being presented to him. The woman had been investigated for gastritis, had undergone CT of the chest, abdomen, and pelvis because of reported symptoms and treated with anti-emetics before being discharged. She’d been treated and streeted three times over the course of ten months. Course of treatment prescribed for her by the diagnosing surgeon was for her to undergo endovascular drainage and removal of the Distal PICA aneurysm, and she made full recovery with resolution of symptoms.” The corner of his mouth twitched. Mirrored against her own. Beth happened to know this case specifically as he’d been the diagnosing physician. It had been his first year of residency on staff, and he’d saved a life that even his attendings would have squandered with their myopic views. She never admitted afterwards that he’d terrified her in those first few moments, even that one time they’d ended up doing sake bombs at Kura’s on St Mark’s Place, having successfully sneaked out of what happened to be the most boring retirement dinner the department had ever perpetrated. Nor had she ever forgotten the feel of his arm around her waist or the scent of his pressed silk shirt and the heat radiating off of him when he wrapped her in one side of his coat on the way back to his car because neither one had remembered to bring an umbrella. If she had to choose a moment when the first seed had been planted, when it had taken root and bloomed into the mess that came after, she would have had to say that was it. She would have been hard pressed to say what *it* even was.

Not that it ever mattered, it was all water under a very troubled bridge, and the paths of their destinies had been markedly different. That they entwined now after so long wasn’t something she could overlook but she didn’t want to because then she would then have to step beyond the shelter of ignorance and things would go on change.

Again.

Beth doesn’t hear him move. Everything is too loud. The water in the sink sounds like the rush of Manoa Falls, a place she hasn’t been for almost fifteen years but that she knows like the back of her own hand. The clock ticks with each beat of her heart, the hum of the refrigerator sounds like a roar, the traffic outside, the neighbours two floors down and their television. Her own pulse by itself is enough to deafen her and she can feel it starting to throb behind her eyes. But despite that, she can feel him. Each step, each compact flex of muscle, each breath comes ahead of his proximity and heralds the fact that he comes to a halt behind her and a little to her side. It’s everything she can do to hold back the feelings running amok through her but never once does she even think of flinching, not even when those fingertips graze her skin and it feels like sparks from flint and steel. Something stirs unnoticeably within her and greets the contact with a wave of slow vital energy almost as warm as faint morning sunlight. The same energy that not only sustains her plants but encourages them to thrive and grow. The same energy that often envelopes patients in her care and fosters quicker, greater healing even if she does nothing else but simply sit with them and converse. Beth isn’t even aware of it, it’s simply an act of being.

What she does know, however, is that she’s never really been able to keep even an ounce of what she feels out of her eyes and when he caresses her cheek and tilts her jaw, she has to close them. There’s too much of her there. Raw. Naked in a way that even if she stripped down to her skin she couldn’t be as exposed. And still the idea of shying away from him never occurs to Beth. If anything she has to stop herself from sighing. From turning and pressing all of herself against him, her face would come to the midpoint of his chest, right where his heart ought to be. If she did her hands would follow and bunch in the back of his shirt. Trembling in an embrace like that she would be able to hold onto exactly nothing and he doesn’t need or want those emotions, he’d said so himself in dozens of ways.

Just as skilfully as he wields a scalpel, he cuts through her with a few mumbled words ~Luke, 4: 23~ and her lashes flutter, her mouth starts to move but the words flee in the light of his gaze. Her nostrils flare as she tries to take a breath, as she tries to beat back the fires of miserable embarrassment like a seasoned smoke-jumper that she isn’t. The colour and sudden heat that floods her face is an answer in and of itself, perhaps a less than eloquent tale that demands explanation for which she has very little. But she sees the dawning of that understanding creep over him in shadow. She’s only distantly surprised that it’s taken him this long to put it all together, to examine it critically but with a professional detachment that was the one thing she had never been able to learn from him, try as hard as she might. And maybe it’s a glitch of language that his next words strike as hard as they do deep. That strangles something soft inside her and lets it lie broken between them.

She knows now, for certain, that he thinks her irrevocably damaged.

Five small, gentle fingers come up to his arms and rest lightly against his forearm where most of the damage resides. Beyond nerves and bones nearly ground to powder, beyond poorly sequestered tension running through them both, that touch begs his patience. It is also necessary to find some kind of stability that she doesn’t feel any more. She looks down, looks away.

“F-for what is worth,” she begins.

“Don’t laugh, it was highly traumatising for myself *and* the cat!” She does laugh though and covers her mouth to do so, fingers curling against her lips, little crinkles appearing at the corners of her nose where they meet her eyes. Stephen himself is so animated in the telling of the story that he shimmers in front of her like a heat haze rising up off summer-kissed pavement, and everything around them ~other patrons, the Samoan restaurant that’s closest to home-cooked food as she can find in all of New York, the ridiculously large ‘tiki’ cocktail for two they mistakenly ordered~ blurs out of clarity from her mind’s eye.

“Ho, Doctah, mebbe broke da….” she stops. “I mean to say, maybe we should put the breaks on-” “Why do you do that?” “Sir?” That slips out, unbidden. “When you’re relaxed, you have a distinctive Polynesian accent and then all of a sudden you clam up. You change it. I want to know why.” “It’s...it’s nothing.” She brushes him off and plucks a slice of pineapple from the rim of the fishbowl-sized glass. Reaches across the small space and teases his lips with it. His teeth flash as he snaps at it, gives it a couple chews before shunting it over to the side of his mouth. “You will answer me some day.”

She winks. “If can, can. If no can….HOT WINGS!” The waiter brings their pupu platter at just the right time.~

“It wasn’t..it was never…Other girls…it didn’t matter what you had to say, what you had to teach us. They wanted your body. I...I wanted your respect. I wanted you to see how much I learned from you. How much I admired and maybe even envied your talent. Your skill. Your brilliance. I lived for every moment we shared and with you...this.. This empty place in me didn’t feel so lonely. I never felt like I had to hold myself back, never that I was too weird. I...I thought you just understood because we were so much alike.” There was nothing that salt water couldn’t cure; tears, sweat, ocean tides. And for Beth, standing there so close to him, she can’t help herself and the gathered wet in her eyes start to slide down her face unchecked. “And then… then… when I realised that I’d messed up so hard…”

Beth feels her heart misfire in her chest, the off-beat a painful thing. “All I wanted to do was to protect you. And by leaving they couldn’t accuse you of anything. Even if you had no fault in what amounts to a stupidly impossible fantasy that, at the time, I thought was harmless. Only, it wasn’t. It was...stupid. It was… It was a mistake but one I couldn’t really take back, you know?” She laughs a little even if her face doesn’t hold any levity and the sound is a little too brittle. Despite all of her admittedly ignorant actions, she hadn’t even managed to reach completion. While she could visualise his long, slender fingers and imagine the calloused warmth of them trailing down her skin, the sensations were not the same. Not how she remembered it when he was fixing the gash in her chin and had at one point held her steady with his thumb all but caressing her lower lip. Or when he’d physically take hold of her hands to manoeuvre them in just the right way with tools that demanded unfathomable precision because one day a single atom one way or the other would make the difference between saving a patient or letting them die on the table. She couldn’t reproduce the warmth of his breath in her ear. The lean of his lithe frame bent over hers over a pool table where he taught her that not every game was eight-ball, the curve of his hand making a bridge with his much longer reach. The easy comfort of his arm around her waist and a slow shuffling waltz on a gala dance floor, the whole time listening to his diatribes about West that were so scathing she might have earned second-hand burns from them, and trying not to laugh. Her imaginary Stephen could never live up to the living, breathing man.

She risks looking up at him, afraid to see what might be written on his face.

“But no one can turn back time, an’ certainly not me. And I’m sorry...so sorry...that I left the way I did, with no explanation even if you deserved one. But at the time I couldn’t stand the idea of you ever being disappointed in me. Anyone else, Stephen, but not you. Never you.”

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just-the-mage · 3 years

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Review-Love Death + Robots (Pt 1. Episodes 1-4)

So here we are again. You, dear readers, and I, a mostly defunct tumblr page. I was thinking...I’ve written a few reviews on here before, and I’ve rather enjoyed myself to be honest. So until RP starts up again for me, I’m going to grab some popcorn and start reviewing some of the media I’ve been indulging in during this exceptionally fun pandemic we’ve all been saddled with (and are becoming increasingly more and more used to as time goes on). Here we go!

Spoilers incoming! I don’t like to discuss a show without going through it entirely-no stone unturned. You have been warned!

Love Death + Robots is a compilation series-each episode is self-contained content, based on what I have experienced thus far. The content varies wildly from cute and sweet to surreal, to horrific. For right now I’m going to stick with the first four episodes since they are fresh in my mind.

Episode 1: Three Robots

Three robots shows a short adventure shared by, you guessed it-Three robots exploring the crumbling remains of human society. It comes across as three tourists making their way through an area that they are completely unfamiliar with, attempting to define and understand elements of the environment as humans once did. Their analysis and attempts to understand not only human culture, but also basic human biology, were entertaining to say the least. Each robot has flair, character, and a their own take on humans and humanity. Over the course of the episode, the fall of mankind is referenced a few times, being initially explained as a mass extinction due to environmental disasters (global warming is probably a factor-one of the buildings has an entire ship sticking out of it). However, the twist ending throws that whole theory into question once the cat that has been accompanying the robots for the last leg of their journey reveals itself as capable of speech. And, interestingly enough...being in possession of opposable thumbs. It was certainly unexpected, and a bit odd-the cat (and its many, many brethren) manage to finish out the episode by convincing the robots that if the robots do not pet them, the cats may explode. I will say that the ending, though it was rather silly and fitting with the tone, felt like an out of place twist intended mostly to give a bit of closure to a story that had no real need to have an ending. It felt a little out-of-left field, at least to me.

This first episode, I think, is one that I could recommend to a much more general audience than almost all of the other content of the show. It’s whimsical and cute, despite inhabiting such a grim setting (and grim it is-post apocalyptic is not taken lightly here. There are plenty of corpses, some skeletal and some not quite so much. At least one of them appears to have died by suicide). I found it to be a nice addition and a good introduction to ease people into the tone of the show. Definitely give this one a watch, even if the ending sort of comes from nowhere.

Episode 2: Beyond the Aquila Rift

This episode was definitely a change of pace from the first. It begins as a high science fiction story starring a hunky, middle aged man and his two crewmates, making some sort of cargo run (?) through a wormhole of some kind, but promptly finding themselves in a completely different place from what they expected. Hunky space captain wakes up first, finding that he is greeted by an old friend (read: lover) of his, who explains that there was a navigation error that led them off course-way off course. They’re in a completely different area than they expected. The ship’s navigator wakes as well, swearing that there couldn’t have been an error in her calculations, but seems ill and is placed back in her future tech cryopod to rest. Space captain man then bangs it out with his ex-lover (Greta) in a scene that was almost definitely written by a man, and she reveals to him that she lied, and that him and his crew are actually hundreds of light-years further off course than they had thought they were, basically dashing any hopes that he could have of returning to his old life. The two then wake the navigator again, who immediately starts ranting that ‘Greta’ isn’t who she says she is. At this point, enough clues have been given that the captain catches up with the audience (it was all a simulation the whole time), and he confronts Greta, demanding that she reveal herself as she truly is. She does, after some prodding-and the captain finds himself in an infested husk of a ship, aged and haggard, obviously dying of starvation. Greta reveals herself as a lovely spider-beast, and the captain wakes up from his pod again-back in his comfortable illusion once more.

I love the premise of this one. Crazy aliens and shit like this is a huge draw for me-sci-fi horror is probably my favorite subgenre of horror when it’s done well. I would count this episode as doing it pretty well. They don’t go into much techno-babble, which I think is a pitfall for some sci-fi stories. The writers are well aware that we aren’t spending too long in this world, so we don’t need to know much about the rules under which it operates outside of ‘computer mistake your ship fly here.’ The twist ending didn’t end up being too much of a twist-in my opinion there were too many clues given throughout the episode to make it that much of a surprise that things weren’t as they seemed. The odds of this man meeting his ex-lover in the infinitesimal reaches of space just by chance were a bit too impossible to make it believable-and the navigator was far too convinced that her work couldn’t be incorrect. In the end, it was an expected twist, but still pretty jarring. Execution is pretty good overall though-and the sex scene is pretty decent as well, even if its strictly a dude-fantasy thing. Also, call me a sucker for cool looking beasties, but I adore the design on spider-Greta. That’s a lady right there for you.

Episode 3: Ice Age

The only live action episode I’ve seen so far-this one gives an *entirely* different tone than the majority of the other episodes in the series. Topher Grace and Mary Elizabeth Winstead happen upon a lost civilization that exists entirely within their refrigerator. They watch in awe as it develops incredibly quickly-hundreds of years passing within the civilization in roughly an hour or so of real time. What starts in the morning as a town in the viking ages eventually develops into a modern society, almost destroys itself with nukes, and then rebuilds from the ashes into a fully futuristic society that quickly ascends beyond physical form, appearing to disperse itself into the cosmos, no longer bound by such petty rules as the laws of physics. A disappointed Topher asks if they’ll return-to which he receives a sad ‘no’ from his partner. It seems all is lost, and the couple go to bed for the night-only to find that the cycle has restarted overnight, and they probably won’t be able to keep any frozen chicken in the freezer for quite some time.

This one is probably one of my favorites of the series so far. It’s fairly well acted, but the real beauty of the episode is getting to watch the mini-civilization develop itself in a glorious time lapse-the work that must’ve gone into it must have been monumental, to be honest. The final product certainly felt that way, in any case. What I also found fascinating was a specific scene in which the protagonists were abandoned in place of some of the tiny denizens of the lost civilization-which made me realize exactly how slow the ‘normal sized people’s’ actions must have looked to the diminutive people of this rapidly developing society. Reminiscent of the earth’s motion in relation to our own perception-and reinforcing the concept that to an individual, perception is everything.

Episode 4: Sonnie’s Edge

This episode opens with three people transporting mysterious cargo into a heavily guarded complex, quickly encountering and interacting with a ‘bigwig’ of sorts with a beautiful woman on his arm. Through context clues the audience is easily able to discover that the three (pictured above) are here for a fight-and that their cargo is their fighter, a living creature of obviously immense proportion. The bigwig asks the team to throw the fight, and they refuse, even after he offers a large amount of money. (It’s worth mentioning that during this scene, ‘Sonnie’, the leader and controller of the beast fighter, shares an EXTREMELY homosexual gaze with the bigwig’s beautiful lady friend. Don’t think I didn’t notice the setup, because I definitely noticed the payoff, even though it was rudely interrupted). Sonnie and her teammates enter the ring, setting up as it appears that she will be piloting her fighter in some way. Her opponent is also introduced, though he is hardly important in the story-imagine a cake of beef with a big sticker on him that says ‘mysogyny’ in bold print. What follows is one of the most brutal fight scenes I’ve seen in animation (this is just my personal opinion though). These creatures fucking tear each other to shreds, with Sonnie’s beast only just barely emerging as the victor, tearing the opposing fighter’s head clean from its body. The bigwig is obviously angry, as is Sonnie’s opponent, and Sonnie and her team retires to a hotel room of sorts, with the exception of Sonnie-who slips away into the room that houses her fighter, promptly encountering the beauty from earlier! (Payoff time)..and it gets gay. Fast. I love me some wlw content, and there’s some nice tension here, right up until the beauty stabs Sonnie through the head. Rude. The bigwig reveals himself, which was a bit of a surprise-the part of me that hadn’t seen much of this show yet was hoping for a fluffy little happy ending. It wasn’t to be though..after the beauty crushes Sonnie’s skull, the two promptly realize that ‘Sonnie’ wasn’t Sonnie at all-just some biotech. The *real* Sonnie...was the fighter, the whole time. Who promptly makes short work of both the beauty and the bigwig, (implied), in what I can only describe as the most satisfying moment in the series that I’ve seen thus far.

This was easily my favorite episode of the show, and has continued to be, and I assume will continue to be my favorite through the rest of the series. It’s not just because of the lesbian rep (my people!), or the misogynists getting fucking destroyed, but the strength of the reveal, the choreography of the fight scene, and the *power* of the protagonist. I love her. I love her sooo much. We are seamlessly introduced into the world, shown a woman who has been beaten, scarred, faced sexual abuse, and she remade herself into a being of pure power. She fought back, and *look how she fights back*. I cannot describe just how much of a cheer-worthy moment it was to watch the smug smile be summarily wiped from the face of the bigwig. I *love* seeing a villain who has full confidence in their victory suddenly realize that they don’t have the upper hand anymore...and that they are, in fact, absolutely screwed. This was one of those wonderful, wonderful moments, and I can think of nobody more deserving than this villain of being torn to shreds. This was an A+ episode for sure-100% recommend this one for anyone who can handle a bit of gore.

Thank you so much for reading! This is only part 1...more to come!

#ooc #not ffxiv #review #show review #tv show review #love death and robots #love #death #robots #animation #sonnie's edge #ice age #beyond the aquila rift #three robots #wlw #lesbian

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heavyelectricity · 3 years

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Satisfying my inner child with bubbles

Do you know the Sodastream? It is a device you use to carbonate drinks within your own home. As a child, I thought these things looked brilliant, and they were part of my dream kitchen. Of course, we were poor so we could not spend money on anything even remotely as frivolous as a fizzy drink maker. Thankfully, my mum always took fizzy drinks seriously enough that we didn’t get the cheapest ones by default - she liked proper Pepsi, and even when we did have to save money, we’d get Cresta drinks that were always pretty good.

I also love my fizzy drinks. This summer has been a bit of a pain for that reason, as inconsistent deliveries to supermarkets have left a lot of my favourites out of stock for long periods of time (thanks a fucking lot, Brexit). Even when I got them in the basket, they often just didn’t show up by the time my delivery arrived. This was very very annoying.

Lately, we’ve seen a lot of competitions for Sodastream machines, which brought them back to my mind. Of course, I had one big worry: “will the flavours be crap?” I did some research and found that since Pepsi bought Sodastream in 2018, official flavour mixes have started popping up in markets like Germany and Australia. It seemed very enticing, especially the idea of trying Schwip Schwap (an orange/cola mix), but the cost of importing the official mixes would probably be prohibitive. If only they were available in the UK.

When I went into Sainsbury’s this past Monday, this is what I saw.

Holy shit. And right round the corner, a starter kit for £50. But I did not have the money, and could I really justify it to myself? This was not a question that I had time to ponder, being very busy at work and having stuff to do in London on Wednesday. (I saw Black Stone Cherry at the Royal Albert Hall. They were excellent.) But once Thursday arrived, I had both time and money. Doing what any reasonable man might, I did my usual online shopping - and once again, no 7up Free in stock. No Pepsi Max Cherry either. I completed my order, including a 24 pack of Tango Dark Berry that I was sure wouldn’t arrive, and then I immediately marched to Sainsbury’s and made an incredibly frivolous purchase.

I was able to justify this to myself for three major reasons. The first one, you’ve probably guessed - I’m sick of my favourite drinks being out of stock. The second is a matter of economics. These 440ml bottles claim to make 9 litres of finished drink, when prepared according to instructions. The gas canisters claim to carbonate 60 litres of water. If both claims hold, it’s a decent saving when compared to cans and bottles, even in bulk. The final reason is that fizzy drinks containers make up a large part of my recycling output, and while the cans and bottles don’t go to landfill, recycling still takes energy and I should do my best to reduce my waste generation.

So here it is - and it’s bigger than I thought, as it doesn’t actually fit under my kitchen cupboards. The good thing is that it doesn’t require power and therefore can go anywhere. It’s also pretty simple to set up, to the point that the instructions are fully wordless, Ikea style. I installed the CO2 canister in the back and washed up the bottle that was included. For what it’s worth, the 1 litre bottle that came with the machine is apparently not dishwasher safe, though supposedly the ones they sell on the website are. As someone who doesn’t own a dishwasher, this is of no consequence to me. They also do 500ml bottles.

I filled the bottle up to carbonating capacity (840ml), and then chilled it. This is because I’d done my research, rather than letting my giddy excitement get the best of me. Because gases are more soluble in liquids at lower temperatures, the carbonation is more effective if you refrigerate the water in advance. That’s important to note if you end up buying your own Sodastream. I gave it a bit more fizz than recommended since the Sodastream website advises high carbonation levels for the Pepsi flavours. Advice from other owners included leaving the bottle to stand for a few moments before removing it from the machine, pouring syrups in diagonally to avoid major fizzing, and leaving the finished drink standing in the fridge for up to half an hour before serving it.

I’ve got to be honest, the smell of concentrated Pepsi is not very appetising. It’s also worth noting that the syrups have different instructions - Pepsi is to be kept at room temperature after opening, but 7up Free should be put in the fridge. You’re also supposed to shake them before use, and there are three lines on the lid/serving cup - the medium one named “lightly sweet” does seem to produce the best results.

Once it’s finished, you can see that it looks like Pepsi. It tastes like Pepsi too, but not exactly like Pepsi. The reason for this is simple: you cannot dissolve enough sugar into the small amounts of liquid used here, which means that other sweeteners do need to be used too. The result is that Pepsi from a Sodastream has fewer calories and less sugar per serving than regular cans or bottles, and the taste is actually closer to that of Pepsi Max (the cans and bottles, not the Sodastream mix). Since I like Pepsi Max well enough, this doesn’t bother me. The taste of the 7up Free feels a lot closer to that of the regular bottles and cans, as it doesn’t rely on heaps of sugar. I haven’t yet tried regular 7up or Pepsi Max.

Overall, I’m happy with my Sodastream. The official drink mixes mean that I don’t miss my favourite flavours, and I should be able to keep a decent supply of them ready to go. Beyond that, I just really love pushing the button to put the fizz in. It looks cool and satisfies the part of me that always wanted one as a kid. I’ll probably pick up a couple of extra bottles so I can have both flavours at once, and my big hope is that they’ll add new official flavours - Pepsi Max Cherry, Pepsi Max Raspberry and 7up Free Cherry are all on my wishlist.

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thanatophobia-thoughts · 4 years

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Practical self-care has a lot of overlaps with other areas, so I’ll try to only discuss the things that I tend to isolate to practical self-care, though I’ll mention the others in the listing as well.

Budgeting

To-Do Lists

Exercise List

Grocery List

Meal Plans

Shopping Lists

Good Nutrition

Good Hygiene

Friend and Family Check-In

Organizational Habits

Setting Alarms

Get Rid of Things No Longer In Use

Schedule Appointments

Engage In Self-Reflection

Ask For Help

Shopping and Food Runs

You’ll notice there’s a lot of lists here. I find that practical self-care involves a lot of lists and organizing, though that could just be because that’s what “practical” is for me, and how it manifests.

Budgeting involves an excel spreadsheet of what all my money is allocated for, and notes on if I have to adjust that, and what for. I have a budget for emergencies, but sometimes it isn’t always enough. Tires can be expensive – that means some of the money has to come out of another fund, if it isn’t there for it. Noting that is useful, as that usually lets me know where I should put money back in at a quicker rate.

The lists – To-Do, Exercise, Grocery, and Shopping lists, are all quite useful. They keep me within the budget, for one. They also contribute to my meal plans, as I only buy food that is on the meal plan, thus preventing the likelihood of going astray from it. Meal plans also make sure I eat enough, so that I don’t fall into bad habits. The exercise list, also keeps me on track with the exercises I need to do, and marking them off feels so good.

The same with the general “to-do” list. I usually make those daily, but they can be for any workable time. Daily just happens to work for me, and so it usually involves daily cleaning tasks, or things I need to do for the day.

General organizational habits, outside of to-do lists, is also good. I find this to include things like making notes on my laptop calendar about upcoming things, or setting alarms for things beyond waking up – for instance, an alarm to take a pill, or an alarm to start settling down for sleep, could be useful. Maybe meal time alarms? Whatever you need reminders with on a daily basis, you can use an alarm for.

It’s also good to help get rid of things not in use, like old clothing, replaced appliances, or other such things. Where possible, I would recommend donating these things, but when not, try to make sure to dispose of them in as good a way as possible, recycling where you can, and throwing away when necessary. This also goes for food, though – keep your refrigerator and cupboards cleared!

This may be an odd one for practical, and perhaps would better fit some for Personal or Emotional, but I find Self-Reflection to be a very practical engagement. It’s more of a philosophical exercise for me, looking into things I have done, and reflecting on why I did these things, if these are things I still wish to do, what I get out of doing these things…understanding myself is immensely useful in helping me try to, well, work on myself. I can “troubleshoot” better if I know what I’m working with. So can you. Analyzing your behavior, asking “why”, and figuring things out, will help you “order” yourself better, as you order your life better.

And then, the last one – asking for help. It’s practical, and you’re not expected to be able to do everything. This may also be considered a social thing, but as it can influence so many things, it’s hard to limit it. You may need help with an exercise routine, or with fixing your car. Neither of those are strictly social. Figuring out where you need help, and becoming okay with asking for it, is an important skill to develop.

You don’t expect anyone around you to be capable of everything, do you?

You probably even like helping in some things.

Other people are the same. No one expects you to do everything, and some people enjoy helping, in different areas. It’s okay to admit when you can’t do something, and get help with it. It’s normal, and it’s the practical response.

Shopping and Food runs then are another thing that seem obvious, and like they shouldn’t be on a self-care list, but sometimes it really is hard to get out and do things. Having the list makes it easier. If you can’t get out, you can now use many apps and resources to have food brought to you, however I find the social benefit of shopping to be a good part of going out; even if it just ends up as people watching a bit, seeing people about their day to day lives just does something for me that reminds me life is good. I wish I could explain it. It also saves on the delivery fee. Even when I order food for myself, I tend to prefer to pick it up, over having it delivered to me.

Practical self-care does cross into many other areas, but overall the core of it is based on organization, order, and using tools to better manage your life, so that you don’t suffer needlessly. A lot of practical things for me are mostly tools to help me remember to do things, thus the lists. Remembering to do these things, does significantly improve my overall health in many areas, notably financial health and physical health.

The theme of it, though, is realizing that things can’t all be done without help, whether that help is a list, an alarm, a reminder, or another person. Embracing that is key to this self-care.

#self care #self-care #practical self-care #practical self care #to-do list #to do list #lists #organization #ordering #organizing #death anxiety #death anxiety help #existentialism #existentialism help

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1235

survey by pinkchocolate

Have you ever watched any of those fashion vlogger videos where they go around cities and ask people about what they're wearing? Not into fashion/beauty vlogs in general, sooooooo nope.

Speaking of which, where did you get the clothes you are wearing today? My shirt I just got from my high school. No clue where the shorts came from.

What beverages do you have in your refrigerator right now? There’s several bottles of soju, a huge-ass bottle of gin my manager gave me just because, water, and I think also coconut water.

What products are you using on your hair these days? Shampoo and conditioner.

I see. Can you recommend a good hair product? Not really lol, I just use standard products.

Your most recent snack - was it something sweet or something savoury? It was savory.

How many cars does your household own? Two.

Do you prefer to read books in one sitting, or a few chapters at a time? Depends on how invested I am/how long the book is. I can definitely read books in one sitting, but there are some I’ll have to take breaks for. I don’t have a preference.

Where were you the last time 7PM came around? In the dining room, having dinner.

Are there many pizza places in your town/city? Which serves the best pizza? We have lots of pizza chains and you can always find one within a kilometer or two, but no independent pizza joints. But that said, I like Yellow Cab’s pizza the most.

When was the last time you went to a fast food restaurant? Which one? Reena, Hans, Angela, and I grabbed some meals at Taco Bell last Tuesday to have something to munch on before our trip to the BTS pop-up store - we went back since Reena hadn’t been able to join us the first time we went.

Do you have a favourite Elton John song? Nah. It’s a lyric in Permission To Dance but I don’t really listen to him lols

Have you recently heard any song that stirred a strong emotion inside you? Sure.

When was the last time you ate peanut butter? I had a very brief phase last month where I fixed myself a peanut butter sandwich every night before I turned in.

The last time you boiled water, what was it for? I made a cup of coffee last night.

If you have pets, are they ever mischievous? Kimi’s 13 so he hasn’t been mischevious in a while. That’s a position held by Cooper now.

Who did you last talk to on the phone? When did you last see them in person? My Lalamove rider. I had a package that arrived the other day and was informed by the shop to prepare cash on hand for the shipping fee...which I didn’t have. I was also in the middle of work so I couldn’t just go to the nearest ATM, so I had to call him up and ask if it would be possible to do cashless. He agreed, thank FUCK, so I just sent him the money through an e-wallet and gave a hefty tip as thanks since it had also been pouring like crazy that day. As for the second question, I only saw him that one time.

Which word processing software do you prefer to use? Google Docs, if I understand ‘word processing software’ correctly.

Do you own any hair straighteners? What brand? Not my own. I don’t like the look of my hair when it’s straightened, so I’ve never felt the need to get one of my own.

How old were your parents when they first met? They were 22.

When you were growing up what kind of music was in your parents' record collection? Mostly ballads.

I see. And do you think that influenced your musical taste at all? No. It’s quite different from theirs.

What did you have for lunch yesterday, if anything? I had brunch instead of lunch, but to answer the question I had kimchi rice with tocino and tomatoes, glazed ham, and bangus.

Do you enjoy watching home videos? I absolutely love them. I could spend hours watching home videos, regardless of who it’s of.

Has anyone you know become engaged recently? Someone from work but I don’t talk to her.

The last time you felt genuinely happy, what was the reason? Yesterday!!! I had a blast at my Korean language class and right after, Taehyung held a VLive with a Namjoon cameo, which I super fucking enjoyed. Then in the evening the boys were interviewed on Korean news and that was followed by Jimin posting a tweet and a couple of selfies at like 11 PM. I loved yesterday.

Do you own many hats? What does your favourite one look like? I just have one bucket hat but I really want to buy more + berets! The one I have is dark green and just has a simple Ivy Park design written on it.

What do you expect to be doing at this time tomorrow? Back at work.

#survey #surveys

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thestarkerisobvious · 4 years

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The Thing That Lives Under The Bed -- The Conclusion

This it the Coda for The Thing That Lives Under The Bed.

Did you wonder what Peter and his friends did once they got their hands on ALL those spellbooks? Maybe you were curious what would happen if Peter performed the spell of the Kings of the East and the King of the West, splitting Tony in two?

I will be posting one chapter a day #OnHere, in honor of the place where the story began.

-------------------------------------------------------

Adulthood

The Trap and The Bait

In addition to realizing that he is in love with the thing that lives under his bed, Peter Parker and his friends have also discovered an underground library full of spellbooks, spirits calling out to be freed and the promise of any number of superpowers.

You may be wondering what they did next.

You are getting closer to the answer.

The twenty-six year old High-High Priest could have simply run down the path, but sometimes Peter Parker was just overcome with the need to leap around like a character from a comic book. Under any other circumstances Angel would have complimented him. Certainly Angel had read his fair share of comics himself (from Monica’s and Peter’s childhood stashes. Angel prided himself on the fact that he could hold up in own in any heated Bob Keen vs Alan Moore debate) but, at the moment, the only image in his mind was that of a mouse in a trap.

Peter was wearing the same suit that he had arrived home in, the same one he usually wore on Capitol Hill when he was schmoozing senators about the Clean Water act or another EPA bill. The tie was gone, and the shirt was opened at the collar. The suit itself should have been rumpled from his journey through the trees, but it must have been one of the enchanted ones. Not that Peter Parker would have minded in any case. It wasn’t his only expensive suit.

He was devastatingly handsome in the moonlight, but Angel knew that the man was devastatingly handsome everywhere. Everyone thought so.

The weak and infirm flocked to the Lavern Post Healing Center from far and wide. Either they were healed by Dr. Cyprian, or they were convinced by Laura-Bee that it was their destiny to find treatment elsewhere. But all them, every one, commented on Peter Parker and his movie-star good looks. Even Matty, the High Priest, reluctantly admitted that, even though he stayed behind to cast the convincing-spells, it was Peter’s good looks that really opened doors for him when Peter set out for [the directions to the White House.] Laura-Bee, of course, was always happy to tell, in loving detail, about the first time she had laid eyes on handsome Peter Parker. About the day the first met, about how they were childhood sweethearts.

Laura’s super-power was mesmerism, and she didn’t use it very often.

But when she told stories of her childhood, you couldn’t help but feel like you were falling right into her memory. As if you, yourself were walking home from Robert E Lee school, walking down the dirt road, desperate to hold Peter’s hand lovingly and listen to him describe every detail of Silent Spring. Every long-time member of the Post Homestead had heard that story. Maybe that's why every member of the Post Homestead felt like they had been in love with Peter Parker their entire life. That Peter Parker was the only man they had truly ever loved, and that they, too, would be married to Peter if Peter weren’t married to Dr. Tony Cyprian.

And they were. In love with Peter Parker, even if only for a little while. Every guest seemed to fall for him too, if not romantically… well... they all seemed to be a little hot for him. Even the guests that chose to stay in the Abe Sexton Library suites (recommended for all the straight-laced practitioners, the ones who weren’t interested in the Homestead’s attitude toward sexual freedom) lay in their beds and night and fantasized about the devastatingly handsome and dead-sexy Peter Parker. Angel knew.

Angel knew it all.

And Angel was certainly in love with the man himself.

Which was ridiculous, of course. Imagine… being hopelessly in love with the Peter Parker, the man loved by politicians, Disciples and demons. Fabulously wealthy parishioners flocked to him to be rid of their pain and their guilt, side by side with big-name lawmakers from Capitol Hill, all succumbing to his charm and openly trying to introduce him to their daughters. Imagine a man like that even looking twice at him. At him, a scrawny, dirty, sunken-eyed miscreant with a wild unruly hair and a perpetually bad attitude.

Of course, Peter Parker was looking at him now.

His handsome face looked perplexed, taking in Angel, the lapping water, and then the rock. He looked back at Angel, barefoot and trembling at the water’s edge. He didn’t look angry at all, but he did look like a man in a hurry. He was panting a little. Gracefully he stepped down to the sand where Angel stood.

“Angel? Sweetheart… what are you doing?”

“I don’t want to go back,” Angel cried out. Hating the petulant, childish sound of his voice, hating the way his throat felt too tight to speak at all. “I won’t go. You can’t make me.”

“What are you talking about? Of course I could make you…”

For just a moment, Angel saw it.

Peter Parker was a handsome man with kind eyes (and he could be kind, oh he could be so very kind) but he was also a master magician, the leader of a coven of magicians, each commanding their own army of spirits. (Any minute now Angel was expecting Plucky to turn the plants into bindweed to hold him down or Moonlight to appear and force him back to the ceremony with silent, pleading eyes.) Peter Parker wasn’t just the darling of Capitol Hill and a brilliant environmentalist crusader, rubbing elbows with chieftains and royalty and Heads of State. He was also a formidable wizard who had summoned his first demon at the age of 13, a man of incredible natural power, a man feared by mortals and devils alike.

For just a moment Angel saw that man, that other powerful man, flash across Peter’s face.

Then it was gone.

“But I don’t want to make you. I’m not going to give you orders. You’re not my slave. But… but I don’t understand...” His face and his voice was gentle as he stepped closer. “Angel, please help me understand what’s happening. You’ve never run away from a ritual before. We called for you, but you were nowhere. Even Anton couldn’t say where you were. What are you doing?”

“I don’t want to… please. Please, I don’t want to go. I know what the High Priest wants to do to me. I know what Anton is going to do to me – I know what the bones are for. The black-cat bones. The ones you keep in the back of the refrigerator Please, Mr. Parker, please don’t make me.”

“Mr. Park…?” Peter looked completely baffled. He took a few hesitant steps forward, until he was almost within arms reach.

He didn’t look in the least bit out of place, wearing that expensive, glad-hander suit and standing on the banks of the lake by moonlight. But Peter Parker never looked out of place anywhere. He had a very convincing personality.

Angel was almost convinced himself.

“Baby, you’re confused. Why would you be afraid of… I don’t even…why are you calling me Mr. Parker? Oh god…”

He looked behind him at the black sky. The moon, one day passed full, shown down on them like an all-seeing eye. He groaned. “I waited too late, dammit I knew I shouldn’t have. And you’re shaking like a leaf, just look at you…”

Peter reached for him and Angel started to back away, but then his bare feet splashed in the water. He yelped in terror and leapt away from it. That meant there was nowhere else to go, but directly into Peter’s arms.

Peter pulled him close, easily fitting Angel’s head into the crook of his neck, wrapping muscular arms around Angel’s skinny body and pulling him close. There was no helping it. Angel wrapped his boney arms around Peter’s body and clung to him, shivering.

“Oh god, I told them not to feed you but… I made a mistake, didn’t I? I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed in Kenya for so long, I pushed it too far, I’m so sorry. The things Princess Shuri told me were so huge… it was all so important and I thought I had more time. Matty told me I had more time. Amado,I didn’t mean to hurt you. This is all my fault. Please forgive me. I should have taken better care of you.”

Angel pressed his slight body against the firm body of the taller man and held himself there. Against that strength, he thought he could manage to stop shaking. He even managed to pull one hand away long enough to wipe the tears away from his cheek (then snuck that hand up to touch Peter’s face shyly for a moment.) “Did… did you? Get to meet with Princess Shuri at the consulate? Are we going to be protecting the black rhinos now?”

A look passed over Peter’s face, a look Angel had never seen before. For a moment Peter looked… doubtful.

“She wasn’t there to talk about the rhinos,” he said quietly, look away, gazing out at the moonlit lake. “It was a trap. Well… not a trap, but… but Shuri was definitely the bait.”

“She betrayed you?” Angel asked in horror. He would be angry, would be shaking in impotent rage... if he weren’t so surprised. How could anyone deceive the High-High Priest? How could anyone meet Peter Parker and not adore him with everything they had inside?

The strong man laughed ruefully. “I don’t suppose it’s really ‘betrayal’ to lie to a man you’ve met twice because your brother asks you to do it.

“Angel... Shuri and T'Challa are… well the word is “enhanced” now. I suppose ‘superhero’ sounds too childish. But T'Challa is just like me… we both inherited some ancient magic that was a hell of a lot bigger than we ever expected and a hell of a lot more than we ever bargained for. Trust me, we talked for hours. Unlike me, he grew up knowing what he was getting into… but he’s still been given a lot more than he wanted. And just like me…”

Peter’s arms tightened around Angel has looked sadly at his domain. He looked into the forest, across the lake, then up at Dead Oak Hill, bathed in the erie torchlight. “… we just want to be left alone to play Comic-Books with our friends in our own tiny corner of the world that we’re king of.. Unlike me, he thinks he’s ready to join the grown-ups in the real world. I’m not so sure. Angel they want me to…”

He caught himself suddenly, as if he had forgotten who he was talking to. He shook his head. “I can’t really talk about it yet. But it’s big, Angel. It’s really big. I can’t tell the others until I’ve talked to Tony. Which means I have to take care of you first. Look at you…”

Peter tightened his arms again, gazing into Angel’s eyes with a tender look. He brushed his lips against Angel’s forehead in a tiny kiss.

“Angel,” he whispered, “…are you afraid? What on earth could you be afraid of? Nothing scares you. You’re fearless. Baby, please tell me what’s going on.”

Angel looked up into Peter’s face, so perfect and so beautiful in the moonlight. He struggled to remember… he had been afraid, only now he couldn’t quite remember why. There was something wrong with him, something terribly wrong, but now he couldn’t quite remember…

…until he did.

“Don’t let them send me away… please don’t. I don’t want to go, please don’t make me go through the ceremony. Please, Peter. I can’t. I can’t leave you.

“I love you,” he blurted, choking on the confession. He found himself blushing, his whole body flushing at the secret words said aloud. “I love you so much. I know I’m not… I know I’m not anyone… I know I’m just a ragged, spoiled-rotten kid that weighs next to nothing and bugs everybody and I know I’m a constant nuisance and I know that I’m not someone important like a princess or a senator… but I love you. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you.”

Peter’s forehead wrinkled in concern, his mouth hanging open in surprise.

“Angel, Angel sweetheart, do you see? You’re so confused baby… oh can you… oh god how is this happening??

“Angel, how could you forget that I love you?”

Peter’s mouth on his was sweet and gentle and warm. The kiss was tender and loving and everything Angel had imagined it would be. Peter’s arms were strong and solid and he held Angel as if he never wanted to let him go. It was a dream come true…

…and that was the problem. Frantically Angel pulled away, trying to look around him. Maybe this was a dream… maybe Laura-Bee was there with him, holding his hand and telling him the story, over and over and over again, of how she had fled across Lovesick Lake on the darkest night of her life, and there found the man that could take all her fear away just by holding her hand.

But Laura wasn’t there. He and Peter were alone in the moonlight, kissing on the banks of Virgin Lake. Peter was warm and strong and solid and suddenly all Angel could think was… hadn’t they done this all before? Hadn’t they held each other like this, kissed each other like this, on the same night as the ceremony? Was that why it felt so much like a memory?

“Do you remember Amado?” Peter was whispering. “Try… try to remember.”

“I can’t… I don’t… I keep reaching for it, but it’s not there…” Angel said through his tears. Peter pulled him close again, tucking Angel’s head in the crook of his neck and rocking him back and forth.

“This is my fault,” he said, stroking Angel’s hair and kissing his head over and over again. “It’s because I was sick the day of the spell, isn’t it? I was still getting over the food poisoning, I was still weak… god I should have let Matty do the spell but I was too jealous and now look what’s happened…”

Angel was so surprised he pulled back enough to look into Peter’s face. He wasn’t sure what startled him more, the fact that Peter could get sick, or that Peter had been jealous… of Matty? Of Matty… and him?

“I can’t believe how badly we messed this up. It’s always gone so smoothly, but this time…

“Angel… you told us that you had to focus on eating this year. So you couldn’t get distracted by everything else, so you could concentrate on taking care of yourself and making yourself strong. But all we did was make you hungry and miserable all the time, and now you’re dressing in rags and lying to everybody… Angel try to remember.” He reached up with one hand to cup Angel’s cheek. Angel leaned into the warm touch, closing his eyes against the pain in Peter’s face.

“You told us that if we could make you forget about the world outside the border, that you’d be content, and not feel rejected or left out while the others worked. It was your job to stay here, to focus on yourself and to get strong. But look at you. You’ve forgotten what you’re supposed to be doing, you don’t remember who you are. You’ve forgotten that you are a fierce and powerful force… and, god, you forgot that I love you…”

“I do remember, I do! I remember you love me,” Angel said quickly, grabbing Peter’s face and kissing him hard, not because he remembered, but because he couldn’t bear the sound of Peter’s broken voice. He only wanted Peter to be happy, couldn’t stand the idea that he had made the man feel sad.

Peter wrapped one arm around Angel’s waist and pressed their bodies together. Angel moaned at the sensation and willingly opened his mouth to Peter’s kiss.

Maybe it didn’t matter what he did or didn’t remember. He certainly wasn’t the first person to come to the Lavern Center to pay Dr. Cyprian to take terrible memories away, only to be extremely confused afterwards because they couldn’t remember what they had paid for. Maybe he was even one of the wealthy clientele… (but he suspected he was more likely one of Peter’s charity cases.) But he knew one thing, he wasn’t going to argue endlessly about it. Year after year he had watched Laura-Bee argue patiently, then not-so-patiently, as she made her annual pilgrimage to the secret library behind Peter’s office where the reports were locked away. That was the place for everyone else who had benefited from the Memory Therapy, but not for her. She had never even been to that room. Had never seen it before.

Once a year she went to that room, arguing all the way. Once a year she sat down to listen to Monica read all the things that had been written down for her. Once a year she had to remember that she had never been BORN Laura Foster, but legally changed from Hortense Lovelace to Laura Foster-Beeker, the day she turned 18. All because of something horrible that her father had done, a memory she had chosen to give up completely, a memory she never wanted returned.

And he could do the same, couldn’t he? Ask to go to the locked file cabinets to see what he had written down, to see what he had forgotten.

But not just now.

Just now he wrapped his arms around Peter’s neck (and all but wrapped one leg around his waist) and pressed his entire body against Peter’s hard, solid form. He didn’t feel ragged or shaky or hungry when he was with Peter. He felt safe and warm and strong.

Just as strong as he felt during the Great Ceremony, he was sure of it. The one day a year that four disciples were back at the homestead at the same time, Matthew Mark Luke and John, Matty and Sarah D and Doctor Wickham and Monica, each a powerful magician in their own right, each with multiple spirits at their command. Along with Peter and Laura-Bee they would sing their way through the spells, adding their voices to the beautiful, practiced harmonies that the second circle magicians had prepared for the occasion. For hours they would sing until the sky was full of fairy lights, until their spirit-servants were vibrating in a counter melody until the whole forest rang with power and promise. He remembered… how the singing would last long into the night, even after the moment of the solstice was over, even after seals were recast, even after each task was done. How they would continue singing for the sheer joy of it, for nothing other than the pleasure they felt when they stood and created together. How they would promise each other, NO REALLY this time they meant it, that they would come together more than once a year. Reveling in the sheer power that they had when they stood side by side, when they joined their voices together.

The Great Ceremony, that was due in less than a week. That’s why they were saying good-bye to each other. That’s why…

“We came here and you kissed me good-bye,” Angel murmured against Peter’s mouth. Then he pulled away a little, looking around the moonlit hills. That’s who he had been looking for, that was his memory. The tall, strong man was Peter. Peter was holding Angel in his arms. They had come to the lake for a private moment alone before the ceremony. He had been seeing the memory of them.

“Did we?” Peter said, his forehead creasing in concentration even as he smiled. “Oh yes, we did. That was two years ago. We should do it every year. I love kissing you here.

“Angel,” he said, bringing his hands up again to cup Angel’s face. “John and I will study the spell and we will absolutely do it right next time. You can’t ever forget that I love you. Of all of them, you’re the only one who ever says it back to me, and I treasure it. You can’t understand how much I treasure it. It means so much to me, precious. I don’t think you know how much I love you.”

“But you don’t,” Angel said, even as Peter brought their mouths together again.

“You don’t love me.” His arms were too weak to push a strong man like Peter with any force, but he did his best. He pushed Peter away from him as hard as he could, fighting back the tears.

“You don’t love me, you love him.”

“What the… the hell?” Peter stammered, angry and baffled. “What is this about? You’ve never once had a problem with… wait… love who?”

“You love him. You love Dr. Cyprian.”

If he weren’t so distraught Angel would have laughed at the face Peter made now. It was comical.

“I love… Tony? This is about Tony? You can’t really…”

He stopped himself short and shook his head, hard. It was a gesture Angel knew too well… it meant that Peter was looking at a long, pointless argument and deciding to skip past it and get to the end.

“Yes,” he said decidedly. “I love Tony. He’s the first man I ever loved. He’s my Significant Other, my David. He’s my husband, Angel. He’s my whole world, and not just because he’s the only reason why any of this works,” he said, throwing his hands out and gesturing around him at the lake, the forest, the moonlight. “He’s my whole world because he is my best friend, and I HAVE to talk to him… I have to talk to him tonight. I have to make the biggest decision of my life, and… look!” he said with a painful laugh. “I’m here! I’m here, at the center of it all, in the place where I always make the big earth-shattering life-changing decisions! Except he's gone so he isn’t here to tell me what he thinks!

“I have to go back and tell the others, Angel. I have to tell them what Princess Shuri wants me to do and I can’t tell them until I talk to Tony and instead of talking to him I’m standing here arguing nonsense with you. We’re going back now. We’re going back and we’re finishing the ritual and when it’s over you’ll understand.”

“Not yet we’re not,” Angel said boldly, stepping into Peter’s arms and kissing him hard. Maybe he had been fearless once, just like Peter said. He certainly felt fearless now as he shamelessly reached down and cupped Peter’s erection, working it with skillful fingers. He remembered, now. Remembered that this powerful man, the man that commanded all of them, humans and spirits alike…

…this man was his lover. Only a week ago, just before they had left for the Kenyan Consulate, Angel had crept into Peter’s bed and gotten everything he had asked for. And it hadn’t been the first time, either. More than once Peter had given in to him when he begged… and oh… what Peter gave him was so sweet.

#The Thing That Lives Under The Bed #Demon!Tony #Starker #TheWitchwayWritesStuff #Tony Stark/Peter Parker

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fantastiqueparfait · 4 years

Note

Haaaaaa #61: "is that my underwear?" InuKag or MirSan

You know that any time I’m given a MirSan opportunity I’m going to take it!

Inspired by day… *checks calendar* 26(?) of quarantine and written out of a desire to see “established couple quarantine shenanigans” like eating takeout in your underwear, BUT not quarantine-themed because we’re all tired of this bullshit.

Full disclosure: I was watching Tiger King while writing/proofreading, so I’ll probably tweak it a little tomorrow before posting to Fluff Parfait – apologies if anything reads a little oddly here.

Post-Adverse Effects MirSan (and contains minor spoilers).

Tagging: @meggz0rz, @lavendertwilight89, @disgruntledbeast, @dangerouspompadour, @laurenintheskyy, @umacaking, @kazeinori

“Is that my underwear?” Miroku asked as Sango returned to the living room.

“Problem, officer?” Sango couldn’t resist a snort of mock-disdain as she slid onto their sofa. “It’s after work hours; I changed out of work clothes.”

Never mind that “work clothes” were a pair of yoga pants and a giant hoodie.

“Anyway, I like to think of them as our underwear now,” she smirked as she snuggled up to him, planting a small kiss through his dress shirt to his shoulder.

“Ah, of course, dear,” Miroku patted her head in jest, beaming regardless.

“Get used to it – you married this willingly.”

“I did, indeed, and I wouldn’t change a thing,” he leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek, “Don’t you want to put a shirt on? Aren’t you cold?”

Sango looked down and shrugged, taking in the boxers and sports bra she had changed into after wrapping up her workday.

“I’m good. These two are keeping me nice and toasty,” she patted her stomach, shooting her husband a wink. “Though it’d be nice if theystopped distracting me when I’m trying to build models…”

“About that… I’m thinking maybe we should go out tomorrow,” Miroku suggested, stroking her hair.

Sango considered the recommendation. She hadn’t left the apartment in… three and a half weeks, she was pretty sure. They’d graduated, flew back,moved their things in to the new place, bought furniture, got set up with new doctors, and went right to work to establish their impact investing fund within the first week of being back in Tokyo.

Miroku had been out and about, coffee-chatting potential limited partners like there was no tomorrow. Sango, meanwhile…

Sango was at home, building financial models for every possible scenario. She built models for as many economic conditions she could think of. She modeled raising the fund in a year, raising the fund in two years, raising the fund in two and a half years… She had models for Miroku convincing only one limited partner to invest, two LPs, three LPs… Even a model for if they’d have to go talk to Sesshomaru (an undesirable last resort, but an option regardless)…

Numbers and possibilities swirled in her mind nonstop. She was pretty sure she would be dreaming about Excel for years to come. She was exhausted and the thought of leaving the house seemed so… undesirable.

“Nothing big,” Miroku continued, as Sango cursed herself slightly – her indecision must have been obvious. “I just thought you might want to check out that café near the station since we haven’t had time to explore the neighborhood yet.”

It did sound appealing; Sango had to give him that. Her thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of the doorbell, though, and she realized there was still work to be done tonight. She heaved a tired sigh.

“I’ve got it,” Miroku nearly sang as he rose to answer the door. Sango left the sofa as well, instead heading to the kitchen to start dinner.

They’d need to start hitting the discount supermarket, she realized as she started pulling cabbage, ginger, and a small tray of thin-sliced pork shoulder from the refrigerator. There was a supermarket attached to their train station, so Miroku frequently brought groceries home on his way back from his meetings, but it wasn’t sustainable – the Tokyu supermarket was expensive and they weren’t pulling a salary yet.

And they were expecting twins, no less. Nothing like grabbing the bull by the horns, she supposed as she began to pull the head of cabbage from its plastic bag and moved to pull a cutting board and knife out of the drawer next to the sink.

“No need to cook! Dinner’s covered,” Miroku announced airily as he sauntered into the kitchen, placing two small pizza boxes on the counter.

“You didn’t,” Sango replied, slightly taken aback. “Weshouldn’t be spending this kind of money… not right now.”

“Relax,” Miroku turned her around, pulling her into a hug. “Our friends in the drug business decided we earned a night off.”

“Careful how you phrase that. Potential LPs might not appreciate it,” Sango teased, making a mental note to text her appreciation to Kagome and Inuyasha nonetheless.

“Not so fast, mister,” Sango called as Miroku moved to place the pizzas on the dining table. “Lose the shirt and slacks. It’s underwear and takeout night.”

“Happy to provide,” Miroku waggled his eyebrows as he ducked around her, not missing the opportunity to pat her on the rear as he danced out of the kitchen.

Yes, Sango thought, unable to wipe the stupid grin from her face, a day off will do us some good.

#fluff prompts #MirSan #inuyasha fanfiction #Adverse Effects

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softyoongiionly · 5 years

Text

Tinsel and Tourniquets ✨

Yoongi has lived for 727 years and, he has yet to understand why anyone would willingly ruin a perfectly good tree by ordaining it with stupid little trinkets. Hopefully, your holiday cheer is enough for the both of you...

Pairing:Reaper! Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, supernatural au

Word Count: 3.1k

Universe: Tea and Tourniquets

Warnings: supernatural themes, language, suggestive content.

Based on: these asks x x

A/N: Hello and welcome to another installment of Merry Crizzmizz 2019 ! I’m so excited for the rest of the fics and, I wanna thank all of you for sending in your requests, I hope you enjoy what I’ve come up with. This can be read as a stand alone but, I highly recommend reading Tea and Tourniquets as it’s based in that universe. Happy Holidays ladz!!!

Back to the masterlist! (click here)

deep dark, sweet sweet slumber…

God, if he could just marry sleep, Yoongi swears he would.

It’s so peaceful, so dreamy, so relaxing...

He never wants it to end.

He thinks he should get with a few sorcerers and, create some sort of sleep dimension where weary souls, like him, could sleep the years away.

He really doesn’t want to move, he’s never felt more relaxed in his-

What the hell was that?

Yoongi’s brow furrows against his pillow as the sound of laughter echoes up the spiral staircase into his bedroom.

Jimin knows better than to laugh before noon, it’s far too disruptive.

He decides to ignore it, burying his face further and further into his pillow before the twinkling sound asserts itself through his walls once again.

Jimin may know better but, you certainly do not.

Yoongi groans, wracking his brain for what could possibly be amusing you at this hour.

Its then, he hears something peculiar, something that makes him sit up straight in his bed,

Is that…the sound of a raven?

What the hell is a raven doing in his house?

He’s quick to get down stairs, not bothering to change from his sleep clothes or tend to the critical case of bedhead he’s dealing with.

Yoongi’s confusion only increases when he notices the state of his living room.

Why on earth is everything covered in heaps of silver garland and, why are there Poinsettias EVERYWHERE????

He’s quite sure he didn’t plant any and, they definitely don’t grow naturally out of his walls.

“Y/N???” He calls urgently, swallowing the bit of nervousness at the back of his throat..

He would have sensed an intruder wouldn’t he?

“Y/N?” Yoongi’s voice is loud when he needs it to be so, he’s sure that if you’re in his home, you’d be able to hear him.

“In here!”

He feels a little silly at the amount of relief that washes over him as soon as he hears your voice.

The sound is coming from his kitchen which isn’t out of the ordinary for you, considering that he’s caught you rummaging through his refrigerator before.

However, the sight he’s met with upon opening the kitchen door is EXTREMELY out of the ordinary.

You’re standing behind the island on his kitchen, covered in a powdery white substance that Yoongi doesn’t recognize, his usually IMMACULATE countertops are littered with ridiculous items and, worst of all...there are ravens...

Everywhere.

“Y/N! What on Earth are you doing?” He’s flustered, trying to get your attention away from the ravens, which are currently having their fill of a strange electric blue substance.

They are RUINING his perfectly good crystal kitchenware.

“Yoongi! You’re awake!” You smile, making his heart wobble uncomfortably in his chest, “Merry Christmas!”

Oh...

Not this...

Anything but this...

Yoongi finds holiday’s to be a ridiculous concept.

A day dedicated to giving things away??? For free???

What is that teaching anyone???

“We don’t celebrate Christmas in Beneath...it’s a stupid holiday...” He grumbles, flinching when a raven squawks in Yoongi’s direction, it’s black beak covered with blue frosting, “Why are there so many ravens in my kitchen, I specifically asked Jimin to...”

Jimin’s maniacal laughter is heard then, interrupting Yoongi’s sentence and, although he’s been with Jimin for many years, the sound still makes his skin crawl.

“Merry Christmas my lord, I hope you enjoy your present, I know how much you love the macabre...”

Jimin is suddenly perched on Yoongi’s shoulder, disguised as a raven, winking at him as they make eye contact.

“You did this?!?!” Yoongi roars, shrugging him off, his face turned up in intense frustration, “You know how difficult is it so get rid of the ravens once they’re let in??? I hope you enjoy my company siren because, you’ll be spending another ten years with me unless you get them out.”

Jimin flies off of Yoongi’s shoulder, still giggling as he morphs back into his human form in mid-air.

“No! Yoongi don’t make them go yet, they’re very helpful...look they made this for you.” Your lips are pouted in protest, your hands holding out a silver plate containing a large cookie in the shape of a ‘Y’, “See? Y for Yoongi???”

Yoongi feels his lips twitch because, you kind of have that effect on him but, he withholds a smile and, settles for a smirk as he eyes the plate, “You’re telling me the ravens made this? What did they use, their beaks?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you search your brain for a convincing response, “Well...they didn’t make it all on their own, I helped too but, they were very encouraging...”

He snorts, knowing you’re lying through your teeth but, he can’t find it within himself to argue, “Regardless of their baking skills, they still need to go, there may be only be a few of them now but, I promise you they will attract more of their friends...I don’t want my house infested again.”

Yoongi shoots a pointed look towards Jimin who just smirks defiantly, slinking over to you, “See? I told you he wouldn’t like your cookie Y/N...the lord of darkness has no time for fun.”

When Jimin places his hands on your shoulders, Yoongi feels his blood boil but, right as he’s about to curse Jimin in every language he knows, you pipe up, “Yoongi...I know you probably don’t like Christmas much but...its my favorite time of year and, I...” You twiddle your thumbs, glancing down towards the floor, “I usually celebrate it back home...”

Yoongi feels like the worst being in the observable universe for having called your favorite time of year stupid and, despite the overwhelming urge to kiss that little pout off of your lips, he controls himself and, lets out a deep sigh.

“Fine. You’re permitted to use my home for your cultural traditions but when you are done, everything must be put back the way you found it, especially this kitchen...” He asserts with a stern gaze, his arms crossing over his chest, “Jimin since you were kind of enough to give me a present this Christmas, I’d like to return the favor. You will clean this entire cottage from top to bottom when Y/N is through with her...Christmas..ing or whatever it is that humans do. Understood?”

You swear if Jimin was able to, he’d have smoke coming out of his ears, “I don’t think that’s fair my lord...” He spits the word, annoyance wrinkling his usually ethereal features, “I’m only trying to keep your human happy considering you’ve done a poor job so far.”

Yoongi wants to rip Jimin’s stupid smirk off of his stupid face, “You’re in soul-correction siren,” He tilts his head arrogantly, “I don’t particularly care if you think something is fair. You can have your Christmas but, keep the noise at a minimum...I have work to do.”

Your heart sinks a little and, you aren’t really thinking as you rush over to Yoongi, placing a flour-covered hand on his arm, “Wait you’re not going to celebrate with us? I thought maybe you’d want to help decorate the tree or...something.”

Yoongi stops in his tracks, his skin tingling where you’ve touched him, his heart doing annoying things in his chest.

“He can’t join us Y/N, on Christmas he moonlights as Krampus...” Jimin pipes up, smirking proudly at his insult.

Before Yoongi can throw another threat Jimin’s way, you speak again, turning him towards you.

“No one should be alone on Christmas Yoongi...please?” Your fingers sort of curve around his forearm and, Yoongi honestly considers the fact that YOu might be a siren yourself because, he swears his never felt so weak around another being.

Rolling his eyes, he huffs out an exasperated sigh, one of his hands ruffling his hair, “Fine, but the ravens can’t stay, they are defecating all over my kitchen...”

At his response, you perk up and throw your arms around his small frame, “We’re gonna have so much fun!”

Yoongi feels an annoying amount of warmth in his chest but, he stays stiff through your display of affection, grumbling when it goes on a little too long.

“What exactly does Christmas include? Other than unnecessary gift giving, which I will not be taking part in…” He insists, brushing off the flour you left on his shirt.

You purse your lips in thought, tilting your head to the side, “Wellll, I guess we can start by getting a tree…do you have an axe anywhere?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen, “What on earth do you need an axe for? Is there some barbaric human ritual I don’t know about?”

At this, you laugh, shaking your head as you shuffle past Yoongi to gaze out the window, “No silly, we need an axe to get one of the trees down.”

He waves you off, grimacing as one of the ravens squawks expectantly at him, “Shut up…” Yoongi grumbles before shaking his head, “We can’t use the trees from the forest, they are infected with dark magic. But, I suppose…I can conjure one for you…”

Your face turns up in wonder as you glance down towards his hands, “You can do that?”

He feels a sense of pride wash over him, enjoying the look on your face more than he cares to admit, “I literally have the capability to open the doors to different dimensions and, you’re surprised I can conjure a tree?”

Jimin snorts, perching on the countertop, his now violet colored eyes rolling in annoyance, “And yet you can’t get rid of a conspiracy of ravens without my help...”

Yoongi shoots a glare Jimin’s way, “You know exactly why I can’t get rid of the ravens and, besides,” He smirks darkly, “Why have a cat…” With a flutter of Yoongi’s fingers Jimin morphs back into a fluffy black cat, “…if it can’t tend to the vermin?”

Jimin yowls, as he attempts to morph back into his human form but, Yoongi’s magic is too powerful to break through.

“Get to work...”

Despite Jimin being a cat, you can still sense the annoyance on his face as he begins chasing the ravens one by one out of the window.

Yoongi turns back to you, satisfaction evident on his features, “Now…where should the tree go?”

With narrowed eyes, you smirk curiously at him, “Why can’t you get rid of the ravens?”

He sighs, gesturing for you to follow him out of the kitchen, his peasant blouse billowing behind him as he walks.

“Ravens signify mystery and divination,” He explains, holding the door open, allowing you to pass in front of him, “They, like many other animals have been persecuted in the name of superstition so, when they find someone like me, they feel safe. As the Reaper, it’s my job to protect them which is why I cannot conjure them away from me.”

You’re intrigued at this bit of information, wishing you could spend hours learning the quirks of the universe.

“I’m guessing Jimin knew about this…” You giggle, eyeing a good spot to place the tree.

He rolls his eyes, “I swear it’s like he wants to stay in soul correction forever…” Yoongi glances around the room before turning his attention to you, “Where do you want this tree?”

With a point of your finger, you gesture to spot behind Yoongi’s loveseat, “Right here will be good, that way you can see it through the window…”

Yoongi doesn’t understand why that matters as the only beings that pass by his cottage are inhuman vessels of evil buuuuut, the small smile on your face is endearing and he doesn’t really want to spoil your time with his pessimism.

“Which kind of tree do you want?” He murmurs, focusing his attention on the spot you indicated.

“Uh…a Christmas one?” You venture, feeling slightly embarrassed that you don’t remember the exact name, “You can pick…”

Yoongi smirks fondly at you, “Fine. Step back a bit, these spells can have a bit of fallout…”

He expects you to move back behind the other sofa but, what he doesn’t expect is for you to hide behind him.

He can feel your small hands bracing on his shoulders and, he desperately wishes your touch didn’t affect him so much, “Watch your face…”

You giggle, your face wrinkling a bit as you brace for some sort of Christmas tree explosion but, instead you hear Yoongi mumble something to himself before, looking up to find a medium sized spruce tree standing proudly at the head of the living room.

“Do you like-“

“ITS BEAUTIFUL!” You beam, rushing over to it to run your fingers along it’s branches, the scent flooding your nose with memories from your childhood, “Can you conjure ornaments too?”

Yoongi’s brows furrow in confusion, “Ornaments?”

“Yeah like little things to hang on the tree…oh and a star, we need a star too!” You remember, glancing around the room, trying to figure out if there is anything of Yoongi’s you can hang on the tree.

He sighs dramatically, “Can’t we just observe it in it’s natural state? Why does it have to be covered in stuff?”

“It’s a Christmas tradition Yoongi c’moooon…” You insist, tugging playfully on his arm causing him to roll his eyes.

“Humans are so ridiculous…” He grumbles for the 100th time, waving his right hand over the coffee table before a wooden box of ornaments appears.

You get to work immediately, popping around the tree, finding the perfect placement for each of the little baubles, smiling to yourself as the tree begins to fill up with decorations.

Yoongi steps back, watching you from afar, smirking with a bit of admiration as you get lost in your own little world.

After awhile, when most of the ornaments are on the tree, Yoongi comes up to you and shoves a star made out of shiny silver wire in your direction, “Here.”

Warmth floods your chest as you take the object in your hands, glancing up towards Yoongi’s face, “Thank you…do you want to put it up maybe? I can’t reach the top…”

Yoongi eyes you hesitantly before giving in and, taking the star back with a huff. Rather than grab a ladder Yoongi merely wiggles his fingers and, sends the star floating up to the top of the tree.

As it perches proudly on top, you feel a sense of happiness rush through you. Although, you wish you were able to make it back in time for Christmas, you’re thankful to share this time with Yoongi.

Even though he doesn’t seem as thrilled…

“There. Christmas is done now yes?” He tilts his head expectantly at you; his tone slightly softer than it was before.

“Almost…” You smile before rushing out of the room and, into Yoongi’s apothecary. He’s extremely wary of you entering that room without his assistance but, something about your smile keeps him frozen in place.

As you return, your arms are behind your back, which only furthers his suspicion.

“Ok I know you said no gifts but, I saw this in one of your craft books and I wanted to make one for you…”

Yoongi wants to deny owning any crafting books but, since he’s already been caught he settles for a snarky response instead, “I’m scared…”

A giggle leaves your lips before you nod to him, “Close your eyes and, hold out your hands…”

He feels his heartbeat pick up as he tries to imagine what you’ve done, “I don’t like surprises…” The complaint comes out of his mouth but, he obliges, his large hands coming out in front of him.

“Ta daaaa…” You cheer lightly, placing the object in his hands.

Yoongi opens his eyes to find a small dream catcher, adorned with a few black feathers and, silver beads. He wants to say something mean, he really does but, all he can think of is the throbbing in his chest, the fondness in his heart…

You really are something.

“This should help get rid of those pesky nightmares you have…” You smile, feeling a little nervous at his reaction.

However, you’re surprised when he nods in consideration, flashing a small gummy smile your way, “Thank you Y/N, this is very thoughtful.”

Relief washes over you, as your smile grows, your heartbeat skipping at his expression.

“I’m glad you like it…”

Yoongi returns to himself a few moments later, making sarcastic remarks at your belief in Santa Claus and, judging the tone of your voice as you sing Christmas songs off key.

The rest of the day, you and Yoongi spend time by the fire and, you learn the origin story of Krampus, the mythical being Jimin referred to earlier.

At the end of your third yawn however, Yoongi finally stands, gesturing to the sofa, “You should get some rest. We’ll make the journey back to your family once the snow passes and, I need you to be strong enough.”

You’re feeling giddy at successfully getting Yoongi to spend Christmas with you so, you don’t fight his suggestion, making your way over to the larger sofa.

He blows out the candles and, cleans up a few miscellaneous items around the room but as he turns around, he feels your arms wrap around his middle.

“Merry Christmas Yoongi…” You smile, placing a soft kiss on his cheek before trotting happily back to the sofa.

Yoongi’s hand comes up to touch his cheek, the skin your lips touched tingling underneath his fingertips.

He wants to say something mean….really he does…

“Merry Christmas…human.”

He smirks as you giggle from underneath your blankets before, blowing out the last of the candles and, heading up to his bedroom.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning you wake up to find something on the coffee table beside you.

Squinting through the sleepiness in your eyes, you reach for the rectangular piece of canvas to find the most immaculate painting of a Christmas tree you’ve ever seen.

But, it’s not just any Christmas tree, its your Christmas tree…

At the bottom right corner, you see Yoongi’s initials and, the most ridiculous smile appears on your face.

Maybe Yoongi doesn’t hate Christmas after all…

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sjjms · 5 years

Text

trust me | 01

pairing: yugyeomxreader length: 2.2k words genre: fluff summary: You’ve just joined a new company and just happened to make one embarrassing mistake, what could possibly evolve from it? (A/N: I consider this as pretending’s prequel, you can read Pretending here.)

01 02 03

[Two years ago]

There had always been something about the bustling nightlife of a city you hadn't tried to shy away from, especially in the earlier days. The temptation to go out drinking instead of focusing on your career had not been easy for you, it was certain you did like to procrastinate more than finish tasks. You couldn't help it, you preferred a drink over reading a script and a drink was your mission tonight. With a slight chill in the air causing you to bundle up you hurried into the covers of the market. Stalls were packed tightly next to one another in a parallel line suffocating the public into the middle to be surrounded by consumerism.

At times walking through the market was amusing, you would hear the older women talking about their sons and daughters. Complaining about how they live their lives with deprived refrigerators and going out most nights to drink. It was comforting to know your parents were living miles away, unable to control aspects of your life that you should probably change. You had confronted these bad habits in the face however you couldn’t bear to let them go because they'd been with you ever since you came to Seoul.

There was always smoke tied to these markets wavering in and out of each stall you would choose to visit, it was soft on the lungs due to the sweet delicacies covering the potency. You never did hang around the stalls for too long as the place you wanted to be was your favourite restaurant, a little establishment serving both noodles and alcohol. The two things you couldn’t live without.

“Hello! You’re usual?” You were greeted by the owner as you took up one of the tables. It was quiet most days you visited, you were almost certain you were his only customer some days but he reassured you he received many. You did always come at odd times, usually, an hour before he was due to close for the night, the owner was kind enough to sometimes keep the restaurant open for longer while you finished.

“Have you been busy?”

“It has been, we’ve almost run out of vegetables, there’s a first time for everything.” He chuckles and continues in the kitchen as you watch him through the boxed window. It was reassuring to hear his voice full of joy. His success today may have been down to you, you had posted a photo on social media about his noodles last night, claiming they were the best for cold nights. Very fitting for this sudden chill taking over the weather.

The owner places down a bowl of noodles with a bottle of Soju, “On the house. The people that visited me today had told me you had recommended it to them, thank you.” He gives you a warm smile before retreating to the kitchen.

Maybe you should have invited someone out with you tonight, you stare into the broth catching a glimpse of your reflection knowing your facial expression weren't betraying you. After all, loneliness did have a way to consume a person. You had recently signed under a new company, Daeho and Aera had insisted on going out to drink last week but you declined, the hangover would have become one of your regrets. Now you were planning on getting drunk without even being surrounded by anyone.

The bottle stared intently into your eyes, waiting to be consumed, while aware of the damage it was going to do your body. Alcohol was easily becoming something to turn to. Only you have the power to turn down the bottle in front of you and yet, you didn’t. Before you knew it, there was only a small drop in the glass that wouldn’t part from the bottle as the rest of the contents had caused your cheeks to heat up.

“Are you going to be alright getting home?” The owner was grasping onto your arm as you were gently walking towards the exit. You did have to admit you were feeling light on your feet and tables did look like they were inches off falling through the cracks on the floor. Calling Daeho would be a safe bet, it was still early, you thought.

“I’ll call my manager.” You fiddled around with your purse for a few minutes, the strap on your bag seemed to keep getting in the way of your buckle. Things like this usually didn’t take as long as this.

“Why don’t you let me do it? You sit down here…” He carefully walks you over to a stool accompanied by a table. The man retrieves your phone within seconds and hands it to you to unlock.

“Call the most recent number.” You were a hundred per cent sure your previous call was to either Daeho or Aera, mostly because you talked to fellow actors and artists through messenger. Whilst the owner started to ring the number, you plant your head against the cool table hoping the hot cheeks would cease before Daeho arrives. He couldn't see you like this otherwise you would get a scolding, they always drove you to the memories of home.

“Ah, sorry to bother you… this late at night. Your artist has drunk a little and I’m worried about her getting home safely, would you be able to come to collect her?” You didn’t pay attention to much of the conversation as the room began to spin, how much did you even have to drink? The owner returned the phone to your bag and brought some water to the table.

After some water, you turn to focus on the doorway, at least the room wasn’t spinning any more. “Thank you for everything.” With a weak smile at the owner, a tall figure looms in the doorway, almost unrecognisable. Your legs abruptly straightened themselves and you acknowledge him, it wasn’t Daeho… it was GOT7’s Yugyeom.

Now it hit you, the most recent person you contacted had been Yugyeom. You were exchanging phone numbers with all of the members earlier and he was the last person. “I’m so sorry. I asked the owner to call the most recent number but apparently, it was you instead of my manager…” What were you supposed to say in this situation? You wanted to find something to hide behind and hope Yugyeom would leave without saying too much, in an idealistic world, of course.

“I don’t think your manager would be awake at this time anyway…” Yugyeom mutters, you couldn’t bear to look up but knew his eyes were permanently going to be staring at you from now on. “Ah… I’m so sorry but you called the wrong person.” He apologies to the owner whilst you gather your things. Reality hit and in those seconds Yugyeom walked through the door instead of Daeho, you became sober.

“It’s okay I can take care of myself.” How to get out of any awkward situation. Run. You shove the bag over your shoulder before giving the owner a wave goodbye.

Hitting the chilled streets you look around to figure out where you were, a pharmacy was unlikely to be open at this time. You finally glance at the time, one in the morning. The poor owner! His usual closing time was midnight. Your once warm red cheeks were now a simmering hot. How could you show your face there again? Sending flowers or a gift basket to apologise should be alright, wouldn't it?

“Y/N,” Yugyeom’s voice calls out, “Wait!”

Something made you stop, your feet and brain seemed to be working in opposite directions, one wanted to go whilst the other wanted to stay. Yugyeom appears breathing heavily in front of you, “I’m sorry. I should have made the call myself,” You said.

“Don’t worry about it.” Yugyeom smiles a little to soften the mood, “Let me at least escort you safely to a taxi.”

“I was going to stay out for a little longer… I’ll be alright on my own,” Your apartment wasn’t the greatest place to be alone, being outside did also feel less lonesome even if you didn’t talk to anyone.

“Would you like some company…?” Yugyeom mutters as you glance up to his lowered eyes. “Only if you want it.” He rushes through his words like an accelerating car, he was nervous and you couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Alright.”

Awkwardly, the two of you set off to walk down the path heading towards the river. The trees provided a gloom as they swayed to the silent wind, either way, it didn’t lighten how uncomfortable Yugyeom and you felt.

Deciding to make this walk a little more enjoyable, you broke the silence with a question, “So… How long have you been an idol?”

“Three years… almost four,” Yugyeom glances at you wondering how to keep the conversation going. “I know you have been in dramas since you were a child but when did you start to make music? I looked you up and you seem to have credits in producing not only your music but other artists' songs."

“I've been around for ten years but I started to make music around the time you debuted.” You breathe out, almost sighing, you envied this man beside you and he would never know. He could make music with no obligations, no other major commitment and nothing could stop him from releasing it. “You know what’s funny..? I’m a producing artist but I have more friends through acting rather than producing.” Could you say it was a bad thing? Not particularly. You just enjoyed hanging out with those who made music more. It was difficult to come by those people though because most believed you were prioritising your acting career over the music.

“Do you want to be friends with more artists?”

“Of course! I want to record and produce music but all the companies I’ve been with have told me to focus on acting.” Starting your own company had been an option when you were a free agent however you would have struggled more over the financial burden.

“Why did you choose this company? It’s not the best… I have my doubts about that place...everyone does in the group.” Yugyeom stops abruptly in front of the river, the lights were glistening over the water like a fireworks display, colourful and full of life.

“Because… they offered me something none of the other companies did,” Yugyeom glances down at you anticipating the answer.

“A comeback.” They had been the only one to approach you with the chance to still be able to make music. But now… they had gone back on that one thing that made you sign. Telling you to focus on acting rather than music and maybe then you could have a comeback. It was tiring to hear those words time after time.

“It probably won’t happen now…” You decide to sit on the steps just a few meters behind you, it didn’t matter if Yugyeom left you now, you were contempt like this. Reflecting. Something you were doing a lot of lately, you just couldn't seem to turn it off.

“It won’t happen if you don’t do anything about it.” Yugyeom turns to meet your eyes. How many times had he done that tonight? You were thinking too much into this. He was right though you needed to have the guts to present a song. It wasn’t something you didn’t know how to do, you had done it multiple times for other groups but when it came to yourself… you stopped.

“Anyway, we probably won’t be seeing each other for a while now. Thank you for calling me by accident because I enjoyed this.”

“Don’t thank me, thank the owner. I should say thank you for joining me here, you’ve given me courage.” You give him a smile with the hopeful intent he would take that also.

“Me too.” Yugyeom looks away as he says those words, did he need some help too? Courage. Everyone needed it once in a while otherwise achievement wouldn’t need to exist. It wasn’t your place to press on to Yugyeom’s words, you had to remind yourself, the two of you barely knew each other. This conversation was a small step in becoming friends.

“Friends?”

“Of course! The next time I want to walk by the Han River at one in the morning you will be at the top of the list.” Yugyeom’s smile returns to his lips. You wanted him to mean those words, truly.

“I’m honoured.” A light laugh falls into the atmosphere fitting perfectly just like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle.

“I should get going… thank you for making me feel a little less embarrassed. Contact me anytime, I don’t mind.” You stood up patting your coat with the briefest of touch before looking Yugyeom’s way.

“Happy to help. Be sure to travel safely home.”

“I’ll message you.” Turning around you start to walk away, returning in the direction of the noodle shop. It wasn’t a good idea to look back in this situation, not now. It was too late. You placed your hand over your chest feeling the fluttering heartbeat. How many relationships had it been since you last felt this way?

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