#everyone is extra intolerable at the party today

[coffeecities]

office christmas party and my best achievement is finishing a whole bottle of wine by myself lmao

[bloopitynoot]

Reading SVSSS: Chapter 6

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

Here we are on book 2!

I took a couple days off because my body was perishing (read: my uterus was being a little bitch) but I am back :D

Today's tea is an apple crumble with milk and sugar and my little reading buddy (Charlie) has returned for this chapter Extra Needy and sporting his new necktie.

Let's get into this long chapter:

And we start three years later! I was wondering if there was going to be a time jump and there is! :) p9

Why is everyone so thirsty in this world RE: Ning YingYing p10

Oh dang. I really want to know what's making people melt into skeletons p13

Shen Qingqiu is such a vibe" I know I am physically useless, but i'm also a walking encyclopedia so I bring that to the party" p14 honestly same

So many corpses in the water!! p18

Oh shit, what the heck Wu Chen's legs? p22

RE: Wu Chen I did lol at "Great Master, you call this a bit uncomfortable?!" p 22

this totally feels more like a curse than a standard plague p24

why am I laughing so hard at "fuck me, with this speed, they wouldn't lose to a runner doing the 100-metre hurdles! 'Old Lady'? Yeah right! I must be blind!"p26

oooo! Gongyi Xiao is back! p28

Baby is back too!! Luo Binghe! pp29-31

omg and now there is a height difference! Shen qinqgiu being the smol one p32

Re: on the subject of thinking it was a curse like 15 pages ago, it is not a curse. I don't know why I thought it would be literally anything other than demons LOL this is the plot of the entire fictional universe of this book p37

Luo Binghe still only has eyes for Shen Qingqiu- even after being tossed into hell p38

I truly love the inner monologue of Shen Qingqiu's thoughts vs what people just kind of assume he's feeling. SQQ: Luo Binghe has brainwashed these disciples, he is definitely coming for me, I am fucked. Everyone else: this poor man misses his student so much, he is so hurt that Luo Binghe didn't go back to him.

LOL at Luo Binghe's hatefire at seeing SQQ and Gongyi Xiao bonding together p42

I can't XD SQQ: I have a huge announcement guys, Luo Binghe is back!!!! Everyone else: who tf is that? RIP p44

no shit that demonic activity increasing in frequency is 100% indeed a bad omen. p47

I'm crying SQQ thinks Luo BInghe is about to kill him p48

not the magpie bridge reference p50

This man is just crushing his windpipe for funsies -> why do I feel like this is their dynamic? p50

SQQ is actually an idiot. This fool is continuously operating under the assumption that nothing in the story has changed and the original story is guaranteed. If he heard these words and responded appropriately he'd probably be fine RE: "Then why did you tell me not to put too much weight on race and that no one is intolerable to the heavens" p55

Goddamn is Luo Binghe just going to keep beating the shit out of SQQ?? pp57-59

He really made him drink his blood (side note: when this is all said and done, I need to read some vampire aus) What even is that blood going to do to him?? (do not actually tell me, I assume I will find out soonish) p59

I am once again here to talk about how utterly Fucked SQQ is. He still has 0 idea that Luo Binghe has absolutely claimed him p65

Oh dang. Still, even after all this, SQQ has not shaken his original fate of being hated p69

Bro should have let Qi Qingyi finish that sentence. Re: out of his mind with grief" also probably would have changed some things (even if he was embarrassed as hell) p71

omg so much happening in this scene rn AND then Shen Qingqiu's ex shows up out of no where?!?!?!?!??!!? p73

this man truly cannot catch a break p75

holy shit not even his ex- his wife??????? p75

oop, we have SQQ backstory reveal p77

But also with this reveal: it's a little weird for her though. Like her family takes in this kid from the street, makes him a servant. He continues to serve them, his "family" starts to view him a sibling, AND THEN they get betrothed (not married). Like what. This is wild poor guy- weird because sibling dynamics, also he was their servant. I think she is the weird one honestly. p77

okay, well, he did kill her brother LOL p78

the water prison does not sound good. p81

he really wants to try and last a month there??? best of luck buddy, he cant even handle riding in a carriage without a snack p85

Bonus picture with no notes!

I'm actually so excited for the water prison- it sounds vile, but I need to know how he get's out/how his relationship with Luo Binghe progresses.

[ezcater]

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The only tough part of planning an ice cream party is choosing the flavors. Does Debra from accounting love rich, chocolaty desserts? Is Dave from sales a fan of fresh, fruity flavors? Luckily, there’s a way to satisfy everyone’s sweet tooth. Here are three ice cream flavors your coworkers might love.

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Some of your lactose-tolerant coworkers might actually prefer this refreshing alternative to ice cream, so be sure to get enough to share!

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[turningtummyrubs]

Here's a potential prompt! One of your OCs ends up eating heavily all day; they eat a big breakfast to set themselves up for the day and then forget they have a big lunch planned at work too. That night, their partner surprises them with a date night at their favourite restaurant! The OC that overate all day has to suffer the consequences all night with a bloated, gassy bellyache that causes them to squirm around in bed, disrupting their partner (but of course then they get some help) 💕💕

Here ya go! Aspen and Carter aren’t officially dating yet but for the sake of this, yes they are. (Btw, I received lots of prompts but I’ll try to get to them all within the next week!)

———

Carter shovels a mouthful of pancake into his mouth, treacly syrup sliding down his throat. He has to get to work in half an hour so he doesn’t have much time to eat, but Aspen brought over all this stuff... Pancakes, eggs, bacon, hashbrowns. Well, he could use the extra energy boost throughout the day.

He feels about two pancakes past comfortably full, but he’s not in any pain or anything. 

When Carter arrives at work, he tries to head straight for his cubicle, but Eva stops him on the way, smiling far too wide for someone who’s at work.

“Don’t forget we’re throwing Lindsay a surprise baby shower!” she squeals.

Carter’s eyes widen. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, that. Lunch, right?”

Eva nods and scurries away to accost the next person to walk through the door. Carter shifts uncomfortably and sits down in his cubicle. His stomach’s already protruding slightly, though it isn’t visible through his shirt, and he doesn’t know if he’s going to have enough room for lunch. He’s going to have to eat though because everyone’s going to be there and if he doesn’t, the people who brought food are going to take it as a personal attack. He remembers one time Gary refused to drink the horchata because he’s lactose intolerant and everyone in the office ignored him for a day.

Carter sighs and opens his laptop, scrolling through data and statistics that form a somewhat legible jumble of numbers in his head. One of his hands absentmindedly rubs its thumb over the slight hard curve of his belly as he works, and once he’s done, he stands with a grimace. If he’s going to go to the baby shower, which he has to, then he can’t do it on a full stomach already. He’s definitely not going to get hungry again sitting down in this cubicle either...

Carter’s shoulders slump as he realizes he’s going to have to go on a quick run, or at least speed walk, around the area. He’s already finished his work for the rest of the week, so leaving the office won’t be a problem, but he hates running. He does it all the time because Aspen forces him to run with him, but each time is just as unpleasant.

Carter reluctantly heads out of the office. The sky is clear, only a few faint white smears against the blue, but the cold air nips at his skin. He forces himself into a light jog, wincing as the contents of his stomach slosh and churn at the abrupt movement.

He goes down a block, then another and another and by the fourth, his tummy’s really not feeling it. He stops and braces his hands against his knees against the sudden onslaught of queasiness. His belly gurgles unpleasantly and Carter muffles a small, sickly burp into the back of his hand. 

He forces himself to straighten up, belly now a constricting whirlpool, and begins his slow descent back to the office. He keeps a broad palm splayed against the sickness in his tummy, pressing in ever so slightly when something churns a bit too much. 

His vision’s begun to go spotty by the time he arrives back and he’s grateful to be able to plop down into his desk chair and close his eyes for a moment. His stomach doesn’t feel quite as full, but it hurts now—this steady, pulsing pain—and he fears if he eats he may throw up.

He has another half hour until the impromptu baby shower and he spends the time anxiously hoping the uncomfortable feeling in his tummy will recede by that time. To his great disappointment, it does not.

He manages to wipe any trace of pain off his face when he heads over to the common room where they’re holding the party, but his belly still roils and turns without any sign of stopping.

There are colorful balloons floating in the corners and long foldable tables draped with checkered pink-and-white tablecloths covered in food. Carter grimaces. This can’t possibly end well for him.

Lindsay walks in five minutes later and pretends to be surprised even though Carter’s certain she already knew what was happening. Then, the party officially starts.

Carter fills his plate with some finger sandwiches, a small heaping of fruit, and a thin slice of red velvet cake.

The food tastes like mushy, wet cardboard going down, and it sits like lead in his stomach. He inhales sharply and the stab of pain that follows leaves him near keeling. His stomach is now uncomfortably bloated, jutting with heavy pressure from his hips. 

Carter tries not to focus on it as time drags on until he’s finally able to retire back to his cubicle. He winces and places a hesitant palm against the solid tightness, rubbing slightly back and forth. A gurgle of deep unhappiness groans up from his gut.

He sighs and spends the rest of the day hunched over his laptop, trying to focus on work. The drive home isn’t fun, the food struggling to digest in his stomach. The tense pain swells every time he breathes.

When he enters his apartment, he’s both surprised and pleased to see Aspen sitting at his kitchen counter, reading a book. He looks up and smiles, dimples showing. “Hey! I was thinking we could go on a date tonight?”

Carter’s tummy protests with a sickly bout of cramping. But those dimples... “Sounds great.”

Aspen smiles broadly. “Perfect. I booked a place downtown.”

The place Aspen booked a reservation for is a seafood place, something Carter would typically enjoy, but today is decidedly not a great day for that. Still, he knows he can’t let Aspen on to how upset his stomach is, so he allows him to pick out a variety of things that have his belly turning just from the pictures.

When the platters arrive, he swallows, dread pooling in his gut. The food looks great, objectively, but to Carter, it might as well be a death sentence and no, he doesn’t care how dramatic that sounds.

He and Aspen chat mindlessly as they eat. Buttery lobster settles uneasily in Carter’s stomach, stirring up sickness that had just begun to calm. The rich flavor only serves to intensify the feeling of fullness, making his tummy feel filled far past its recommended amount.

By the time they’re both done, cracked red shells lie split on their greasy plates, and glasses of some sort of fancy ginger ale have been downed. Carter can feel the fizziness of the drink burbling up a storm in his gut. He’s certain if he pressed his fingers to the area he’d be able to feel the sweet carbonation rising at his fingertips.

They pay and go home and Carter’s relieved when he’s finally able to lie down. His stomach is bloated, packed with heavy food that shifts through his belly uncomfortably. Low, inaudible gurgles rumble through his lower tummy and hot pockets of air leave his guts twisting and cramping.

He takes a deep breath and smooths his hand over and over the tight swell, kneading gently at the bottom. The added pressure only adds to the discomfort, though, so he quickly stops. 

Aspen climbs into bed next to him, oblivious to his struggle, and promptly falls asleep. Carter tries to follow, turning onto his side and curling around his tummy, but the sick pain is too great to ignore.

The air bubbles squeeze queasily through his belly, sending the contents of his stomach churning earnestly. His stomach roils and gurgles beneath his hesitant hand, squelching with unbridled tender discomfort. His intestines give an unhappy groan as they attempt to digest the load of food he’d consumed and when he smooths his fingers desperately over the sharp irritation, an intense cramp squeezes the lower left side of his belly. 

He groans softly, unable to repress the miserable sound, and, to both his dismay and great relief, Aspen stirs sleepily.

“Cat?” Aspen murmurs, blinking up at him blearily. His eyes are hooded with drowsiness though they clear when he sees the look on Carter’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m... not feeling well,” Carter says quietly, an embarrassed flush heating his dark cheeks.

Aspen pulls him closer. “Your stomach?”

Carter nods, burying his face in Aspen’s chest. He smells clean and like something vaguely herbal.

Aspen slips his hand beneath Carter’s soft sweatshirt and smooths a warm palm up the side of the aching swell. Carter shudders at how nice the soothing touch feels after a day of near agony. Aspen rubs his hand back and forth over the tight crest, pushing in on a sickly bubble of air and launching up a heavy, wet burp. Queasiness overtakes Carter momentarily before relief settles in its place.

Aspen continues the comforting motions, massaging away spasming cramps with his fingers and sliding the heel of his palm into expanding air pockets to work up relieving burps.

They both fall asleep again with Aspen’s hand rubbing at the last of the sickly gurgling in Carter’s stomach.

[nightspeckle]

High School Au {Part 2}

Part 1  -- Part 3 -- Part 4

******

Jude’s Pov:

I’m sitting on my bed pulling the sneakers off of my feet when Viv decides to make her entrance. 

It’s Sunday afternoon and I just got back from a particularly sweaty session of karate (which everyone likes to make fun of me for doing). So I’m not really in the mood for the teasing Viv will give me. 

“Love the Marshmellow suit, super flattering,” Viv says as she jumps on the bed next to me. I roll my eyes at her which is more out of habit than a real annoyance. 

I flop back onto the mattress next to her and watch as her nose crinkles up.

“You smell”. 

“That wouldn’t be an issue if you left,” I smile and point to the door. I’ve been dreaming of taking a shower since I started practice today. and I’m not about to let her delay me.

“No way, you’ve been avoiding me since Friday”.

She punches me in the shoulder a smile playing on her face.

“I wonder why?” I say nudging her back. 

“Probably because you don’t want to talk about Cardan”. She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and I chuck my pillow at her face.

“Get out!” I’m going to strangle her if she doesn’t.

“Rhyia thinks he might have a crush on you,” she says suggestively.

“What is this? Fifth grade?” I ask while simultaneously banging my head on my pillows. 

I think of Friday night for the first time all weekend. I’ve been trying to keep it out of my mind for the past two days. I really don’t need to relive the whole night and especially not the hangover Saturday morning which was as equally painful. 

The glare Cardan gave me that night was enough to send me running. It didn’t help that after I slapped him he had grabbed my hand and held it in place. 

It was awful. The way I was stuck as my palm was glued to his face. He had hissed at me then told me to get out. Two words had never sounded so unrelentingly cold until then. 

What an asshole.

But then I think of how soft his night-black hair felt. How good it felt when we were dancing. That somewhere deep down I was craving to feel him against me again. But then the look he gave me smashes all of those thoughts to pieces.

As much as I wish I could deny that he's absolutely gorgeous I can’t. Which sucks. Such a perfect face wasted on an awful human being. A real shame. 

“Too bad we share a life long hate for each other,” I say trying to play it off as if I don’t want to murder him. 

Viv sits up and shrugs and says “More like lust but to each their own!”.

She smiles and winks at me before dashing to the door. The shoe I aimed at her head just hits a closed door and I flop down on my bed. 

“Use extra soap this time,” I look up to see her head poking around my door.

I flip her off which earns a chuckle before she disappears again.

If only Viv was right. It would make things so much better if my biggest tormenter didn’t hate me at all. If only.

....  

Fortunately for me, Elfame High is a big ass school. The campus is massive and there are two-thousand kids. 

But all of that is irrelevant because I still end up seeing Cardan twenty times a day. I never really thought about how much our schedules overlap before because it never mattered until now. 

But here I am sitting in my car in the school parking lot all alone thinking about how many times I’ll want to die today. 

Viv went with Taryn to school today. She usually comes with me but I got stuck with taking Oak to school and Viv wanted no part in his early morning whining. 

Truthfully I don’t actually mind taking Oak to school. It’s only a few minutes out of the way and it’’s adorable when he sings along to songs on the radio at full volume. Taryn finds it ear-shattering and anything that will keep her away from me is a perfect added bonus. 

There’s a knock on my window that has me jumping out of my seat. I turn to see Garrett’s face with a sly smile spreading across it.  

I shove my door open banging into him as I do. 

“Easy there Jude,” He smirks as I slam my door and head towards the entrance. 

“I didn’t see you Friday,” I say as we weave through more cars. My parking space is in the way back which sucks for when I’m running late. Which is basically every day.

“Didn’t go,” He shrugs.

“Lucky Bastard,” I say. He chuckles at that.

Garrett nudges my shoulder “Do anything stupid?”

“It’s my specialty,” I respond back and catch the glint of amusement in his eyes.   

I’m scanning the kids lounging around the entrance in hope of seeing Liliver when I spot him for the first time. 

He sticks out even in the crowd. He’s wearing all black as usual but something just seems different. A few strands of his gorgeous black hair are falling in front of his face. Something about him is just enthralling today.

My thoughts have wondered on and now all I can think about is the dancing and his hands and about how I wish I could relive it. 

What the fuck? 

Have I lost my shit? I can not possibly be daydreaming about Cardan Greenbriar. 

There is no way I can be thinking about the bully of my childhood in any way that doesn’t align with lifelong hate. He’s an asshole, a jerk, an emotionless cruel bastard.  

But his...

No! No Jude stop! 

I make myself stop looking at the hands he has tucked in his pockets or the necklace’s peeking out from behind his shirt or the curly strand of hair falling in front of his eyes. 

I look up to his face to see that his dark eyes are staring right back at me. He caught me looking at him which is enough to make me want to shrivel up and die in embarrassment. 

But then his eyes are roving and I can feel them moving down my body. He’s looking at the black ripped jeans I'm wearing and my marron shirt.

It looks for a second like he might smirk at me but when he meets my eyes again I watch as it turns into a scowl. 

Asshole. 

.... 

I see him 6 more times. All about the same encounter as in the morning. It starts off with my staring, his realization of said staring, and then the exchange of glares and pure hatred. 

But besides the glaring, it not completely intolerable. There’s no mean comments or teasing or tripping or really anything he did when we were younger.

Besides the utter humiliation of basically being kicked out of Valerian's party by Cardan himself, I think everything will be fine.

So I stop worrying that the old teasing might resume and focus back on normal things.

Well, that is if you count history club as normal.

It wasn’t really a choice to join it at first. Madoc was on one of his tirades about college and how if I don’t buff up my application I’ll go nowhere.

Which was a really great pep talk if you ask me. Just the way to encourage your kids, by yelling at them!

History club actually turned out to be interesting which sucks because I had been planning on acting miserable enough to get him to feel bad about it.

We’re going over historical battle tactics today which is going to be absolutely amazing.

I’m on my phone arguing with Viv about who has to pick up Oak. Which of course is going to end up being me when Noggle starts talking.

Mr.Noggle is one of the most enthusiastic teachers at the school. The man is in love with history. Well history and astrology which if you ask me is a weird mix. But to each there own, right? Besides the point. He runs this club with his whole heart and expects everyone else to be just as invested. 

“Okay so the printers are broken and by some ridiculous luck of mine so is the projector. Which means the plan has been utterly destroyed.” He seems genuinely disappointed.

“So get into partners and I’ll give you some strategies and next week we’ll group discuss what people find, okay? Cool!”

One of the issues I have with the history club is the lack of friends I have in it. Or more importantly the lack of people I don’t despise. Which is a thinning number.

There are only 11 people in the club. And I’m always the odd man out. I’m spotting which pair looks like the least irritable to join with when the door opens.

That's when the devil incarnate walks in with his cold and cocky attitude.

Meanwhile, Noggle’s smile has grown as big as the sun. “I’m glad I could finally convince you to join! I was starting to worry you wouldn’t show.” The man is practically beaming with his joy.

Cardan looks kinda happy too which is something I thought I would never see. Noggle is patting him on the back and talking to him with utter glee.

Cardan looks so relaxed. I’ve never seen him with anything but disdain painted over his features. But here he is hunched shoulders and a smile plastered on his face.

He must feel my gaze because he turns and looks over my way and then I freeze. His face does a 180 and the look I have come so accustomed too my whole life greets me yet again.

Mr.Noggle turns around to scan the room stopping on me and my desk in the back. His ever-present smile still on display.

“Perfect! Jude doesn’t have a partner you guys can work together!” Noggle is nodding enthusiastically like this is going to be the best idea he's ever had.

This has got to be a fucking joke.

~~~

[captaindamnron]

Am I too late?

Modern AU. rating M.

“London is my home. London is your home. I didn’t change the plan, Rey, you did. If–” he took in a deep breath, as though steeling himself, before continuing, “If you choose to go… you’re choosing to go without me.“

Rey’s head twist and turned, searching the crowded arrival hall of the airport for her brother. She had just started to think that maybe Ben was late when she finally spotted him. A huge bright smile formed across her face as soon as she took him in. His face held the same expression hers had surely mirrored only a minute ago. He was searching the crowd for her as well, and it was obvious when he finally spotted her too, his facial expression shifting to match her big grin.

She sprinted across the hall, weaving through the crowd of people, practically shrieking in excitement when she reached him. She immediately dropped her bag to the floor and jumped into his arms. Engulfing him in a bear hug, she didn’t realize how much she missed Ben, missed everyone, and even missed London, until she finally laid eyes on him. Her family had come to visit her in Liverpool a few times over the years but she hadn’t been back to London since she left. Maybe it was the fact that she was finally home in London that made their reunion this time all that much sweeter than the ones they’d had in Liverpool.

“Gosh, Rey, have you gained weight? You weigh a ton,” Ben had gasped out from the choke hold Rey’s arms had around his neck. Rey let go of her dear brother and quickly started launching a barrage of slaps to his torso.

“Wow, I’m back for five seconds and you’re already intolerable,” she said drily as Ben quickly grabbed her hands and pulled her back in for another hug.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” he laughed. “Hey, if you can’t rip on your younger sister, who can you rip on?” Ben grabbed Rey bag from the floor and lead them to where he had parked the car. “Come on,” he said as he opened the door for her, tossing her bag onto the backseat. “Let’s get a move on. Paige will kill me if you miss your dress fitting.”

Rey got caught up on everything that had been going on over the past few days leading up to the wedding on the drive. Ben had lots of stories to tell, some funny, some sweet, some utterly horrifying.

“Mom is losing her mind trying to get everything at the estate ready for the wedding, and of course dad isn’t much help, ” Ben rambles as he drives. “He suddenly has to ‘work late’” Ben continues, releasing the steering wheel for just long enough to make the accompanying air quotes. “Mind, he’s only started having to work late this past week now that all the guest have started to arrive.”

Rey just shook her head with a giggle. She wasn’t surprised that their father had been hiding away. He was never all that into the parties their family hosted over the years, and this was going to be the biggest one of them all by far.

“Both mom and dad are over the moon, though, about having all us kids back under the same roof again,” Ben went on, and the smile on his face made it obvious that he was looking forward to it as well.

“I’m rather excited too, actually.” Rey admitted, matching his smile. “I haven’t slept in my old room since high school. It will be so much fun having you right down the hall again.” Rey said smiling back over at Ben.

Rey knew they were only a few minutes away from the dress shop when she decided to face the elephant in the room, or, in this case, the car. Looking out the passenger window, Rey finally asked, “So I’m guessing Poe and Finn are your groomsmen, no? How are they doing anyway?”

Ben looked from the road over to Rey. Just like she knew he would hence why she was now trying to hiding the blush rising to her cheeks. Ben knew Poe had to be on Rey mind but was surprised she actually brought him up.

“Yeah, they are," Ben paused momentarily, "Poe’s the best man, of course.”

“Of course,” Rey echoed, trying to act as cool as she could about it.

“Both are doing well,” Ben continued, “Finn has been working with dad at the office for a couple years now, and Poe actually just got promoted to an actual pilot’s position.”

Rey just nodded her head in response, unsure what to say, unsure what would even come out of her mouth if she attempted to speak. Even just hearing about Poe set her heart beating rapidly, her palms breaking out in a sweat. He shouldn’t be able to affect her like this still, the mere mention of his name shouldn’t affect her like this, and yet...

That’s when Ben let the bomb drop, “They will both be over at the house tonight,” Ben said in a voice that aimed and failed at being nonchalant. “Mom and dad invited the wedding party, as well as those from Paige’s and our extended family that are in town over for a little engagement party of sorts. A way for everyone to get acquainted, I guess, since we’re all finally together.” He kept glancing over at her to see what, if any, reaction she had to that.

Rey wouldn’t stop looking out the window, though. She knew Ben could read her like a book, and she didn’t want him to see just how much that news had affected her. This was it; she was indeed going to be seeing Poe in a matter of hours in her childhood home. The house they shared their first kiss in, the house they first... she stopped herself there, couldn’t bear to bring up those memories.

Luckily, Rey’s plan to wait till they were close to the dress shop to ask about Poe worked. They were already pulling up next to the shop. Rey quickly turned and gave Rob a kiss on the cheek and was out the door as fast as she could manage.

“Thanks for the ride,” she called over her shoulder, “see you tonight.”

Ben barely got an “okay, see you later,” out before she had shut the door and hurried into the shop.

The fitting went great. Unlike Ben had suggested, she had not gained weight and the measurements she sent to the seamstress were perfect, and there was no need for extra alterations. Rey did her best throughout the appointment to focus on Paige, and on catching up with her and very decidedly not thinking about Poe. Once they were finished, Paige took off to go meet her family for lunch, and Rey headed home.

As soon as she pulled up the driveway of her parent’s estate, Rey’s spirits were lifted. She was home. Oh, how she had missed it here. She hadn’t known one could miss a place this much.

Rey was a little disappointed that her mother wasn’t home when they got there. She had left a note for them that she was out running errands and would be back later.

“God, my room seems so much smaller than I remember,” Rey bellowed across the hall.

Looking and wandering through her old room, she realized and remembered the person she was when younger and how she has changed. At the time, Rey was a young teenager with an ambition to build cars and rockets, but it was during her apprenticeship with Master Kenobi she realized, essentially, what she liked best about anything that could involve technology and engines was maintenance and improvement of what already existed.

Not that she thought evolution or discovery of new technologies was a bad thing, but society had already created so many good and useful things, there should be more people trying to take advantage of what already existed to advance.

“You could always quit,” Master Kenobi once said.

However, Rey couldn’t help but feel that she had given up so much to work for Master’s Kenobi project already. How could she admit it was a mistake now? Then losing all that she had would be for nothing.

“I could come home and open that chop shop like I always wanted,” Rey gushed.

Rey laughed at that. She missed being close to her family. She always felt like she was missing out. The truth was the choice to come home might have been an easier one if it wasn't for Poe. She missed him; maybe even more than she missed her family, but, then again, he was her family to once upon a time. She didn’t know if she could be this close to Poe all the time, and still not be able to actually be with him. She didn't think going back to being friends like in high school was an option for her either. Or, even worse, seeing him with someone else. Just the thought of him with someone else made her nauseous.

“Are my princess up there?” Rey smiled.

Rey spent the next hour sitting around the kitchen island with her father.

“Surprised you could get out of the office so early today, dad. I heard you have been busy the last couple weeks.” Rey couldn’t help but tease her father. Han smiled and put his arm around his daughter, kissing the top of her head.

“Well, I just couldn’t resist coming home early and seeing my baby girl now could I.” He answered.

Rey felt like she was on cloud nine. This is what she had been missing in Liverpool. Just as she thought she couldn’t feel happier, she heard her mother’s voice coming from down the hall.

“Han, are you home? Can you help me bring the bags from the car?” Rey turned in her chair just as her mother was coming into the kitchen and saw her.

Her mother paused on the spot.

“Rey!” was all she said as she walked closer, arms outstretched, ready to embrace her daughter.

--

Rey didn’t give Ben a chance to say anything more about the fact that Poe would be at their house tonight before she rushed out of the car. Ben, for his part had a pretty good inkling that she purposely waited till they were close to the dress shop before asking about Poe. He knew she was hoping that if her emotions got the best of her, she would be able to make a quick getaway. He didn’t need to see Rey’s face to know she was rattled though. He knew his sister, probably better than anyone, and it was written all over her l, and after the way Poe reacted last night, just to the mere mention of Rey’s name, he knew this weekend was going to be hard for both his sister and best friend. He couldn’t worry about that right now though, he was already running behind, and knew Poe would be waiting for him.

Poe appeared to be patiently waiting on his porch as Ben pulled into his driveway.

“You’re late,” was the only thing Poe said as he got in the passenger seat, clearly he was less patient then Ben expected him to be.

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. I stopped for coffee on my way here after I dropped Rey off, and then I got stuck in a long line. ” Ben hoped his explanation would be enough to get him off the hook. “I got you one though, black, just the way you like it.” Ben sounded like a spouse trying to garner their partners forgiveness.

“Thanks,” was Poe’s only response, taking the coffee from Ben.

“Oh brother, this should be fun." Ben muttered to himself rolling his eyes, putting the car in reverse to get them on there way.

The drive to the jewelry store was a pretty quiet one. Poe couldn’t stop thinking about how Rey had just been sitting in the very seat he was in now, just a few minutes earlier. She was in a dress shop, just a few blocks away. Rey was so close, yet felt farther away from him then she had ever been. Even more now than she did when she first left for Liverpool. Poe couldn’t help the flood of emotions that had came roaring to the surface since Ben mentioned Rey last night. He had done so well pushing them aside the past three years, but now, having her back in town, he couldn’t hide from his feelings anymore. Poe hadn’t even seen her yet, and she was already invading all his thoughts, he couldn’t think straight. He shook his head, as if the act itself could stop all the memories, all the feelings that were consuming him. Not now, he scolded himself, this weekend was about Ben, his friend was getting married, and he wasn’t going to ruin any part of it for him.

--

Ben leaned on the counter drumming his fingers on the ledge, impatiently waiting for the jeweler to come back with Paige’s and his rings. He looked over to where Poe stood, his arms crossed looking aimlessly around the store. Fuck it, he thought, he was going to go ahead and broach the Rey topic again. Poe couldn’t escape this time.

“So, have you thought about what you’re going to say to Rey when you see her tonight?” Ben asked him point blank.

Poe’s head snapped over to where Ben was standing, he thought Ben had gotten the hint last night, this wasn’t a topic of conversation he was interested in. “Um, how about hi…… how’s it going?” How does that sound?” Poe sounded cross, throwing his arms in air as if to say, what gives.

“Oh come on man, let’s not pretend like this isn’t going to be awkward for everyone. Rey looked like she was going to jump out of her skin when I told her you were coming over tonight. So don’t worry, you’re not the only one that’s more than a little nervous.” Ben decided perhaps just this once it wouldn’t hurt to share some intel on his sister with Poe.

Poe didn’t expect to hear that, not just because Ben usually made pretty good efforts not to tell him thing Rey and him discussed, but also because he didn’t think Rey would be all that bothered by his presence. She was the one that left him, after all. She was the one that took off for Liverpool without a second thought, leaving him to pick up the pieces of his broken heart.

Before Ben had a chance to say anything more about it the jeweler finally came back with Ben and Paige’s rings. Putting an end to the conversation once again.

Ben pulled into Poe’s driveway putting the car in park. “Here, make sure you put these someplace safe, and don’t forget them on Saturday!” Ben emphasized the seriousness of these directions by shaking the ring box in front of him as he spoke.

“Don't worry about it, what's the best men for,” Poe reassured him as he took the rings from Ben's clutches, and put them in his coat pocket.

“Well now that you mentioned it, the best man is responsible for planning the bachelor party, but since both Rey, and you, failed miserably in that regard, Paige and I went ahead and planned our own.” Ben was guilting Poe into excepting the change in plans for the evening. “So, wear something nice tonight, will yeah? We're all going out once we've mingled with the old folks long enough.” Ben added, raising his voice slightly when Poe started stepping out of the car.

Poe laughed, and nodded his head so Ben knew he heard him loud and clear. “Alright man, I’ll see you later.”

--

Rey came downstairs once she started to hear guest arriving. Paige had informed her that they would be going out for a co bachelor/bachelorette party after the more formal affair of bringing the two families together was over, so to make sure she dressed accordingly. Not that Rey really needed the excuse to dress up. It was common knowledge that when you know you’re going to be seeing your ex, you make sure you dress to impress, and let them know exactly what they’ve been missing. Not that Rey thought Poe might still be missing her, not like she had been missing him.

She wore her hair down in soft curls, and a form fitting little black dress she had. As she made her way through the kitchen she could hear the crowd of people gathering in the backyard. Having no idea whether Poe was out there yet or not gave Rey pause. She grabbed a glass of champagne from the counter that was out for arriving guests, took a deep breath, and headed outside. Here goes nothing she told herself.

As Rey walked through the party the tension that had been building in her shoulders started to dissipate once she had realized Poe was still absent. She headed over to the bar her mother had arranged, and ordered another drink. The champagne she had come outside with now long gone. She knew she would need some liquid courage to get through the night. She was standing at the bar waiting for her drink when suddenly her body jolted forward with a slap, someone had just slapped her ass.

Leia and Han were talking to Paige’s grandmother when Rey made her way over to them. “Rey, sweetheart, could you please run to the kitchen and grab me some club soda and a cloth? I seemed to have spilled a bit of wine on my dress." Leia asked her daughter.”

“Of course mom, no problem, I’ll be right back,” Rey replied with a smile.

--

Poe drove up the Solos driveway pulling his car in beside Finn's, who had just arrived himself a moment earlier. Poe stomach was doing back flips, he had been to the Solos house more times than he could count, he had even been there plenty of times since him and Rey broke up. This place was like a second home to him growing up. He remembered how his mother was sick a lot when he was young, before she passed away of cancer when he was nineteen, and The Solos took him in a lot to help his mother as much as they could. What made this time so different? He knew the answer though, this time, Rey was going to be in there, and she wasn’t his anymore.

Finn tapped on Poe’s driver side window breaking him out of the trance he was in. “You coming?" Finn asked, as if Poe should have already gotten out of his car by now.

“Yea I’ll be right there,” Poe said lifting his hand, telling Finn to go ahead without me.

Finn nodded, and headed towards the house.

Poe took a moment, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He sucked in a deep breath blowing it out hard, “here goes nothing,” he told himself, tugging his fingers through his hair before he got of the car and made his way up the house.

[statementends]

Gertie’s Guide

@sajwho drew this wonderful Jon and I got ideas. 

Characters: Jon, Jon’s Gran, Elias at the very end

Pairings: None, Gen

Warnings: Mentions of societal transphobia and homophobia. 

Summary: Jon can’t trust the books his Gran buys him anymore, so he does some digging and finds a book on sewing dresses. 

AO3: Link

-

He couldn’t really trust his books after the Leitner, but it hadn’t tamed his curiosity. Gran bought the box of books and he wanted to look, even now. 

Even the thought of going for a long wander wasn’t appetizing.

Maybe Gran had something though. She had books. None of them had seemed appealing before, but… maybe they would do for now. He snuck into her room feeling a little guilty. He knew he shouldn’t be snooping around, but he was desperate. 

He found it in the corner of her untidy closet. Gertie’s Guide to Everyday Dresses.

He ran his fingers over the cover showing a woman dressed in a sensible looking dress his Gran might favor in a brown and purple plaid. The lady’s smile was friendly. This was a book that wouldn’t hurt him. 

He took the book back to his room and carefully took his time with it. The first chapter introduced a cheerful sounding person telling the ladies reading how much money she would save and enjoyment she would gain from learning to sew her new daywear.

The next chapter went into more practical things. He frowned and went over to the sewing box. Needle and thread and little fabric scrap. He couldn’t make a dress from that, but he could practice how to stitch. He took his time practicing the instructions on each page until he felt more confident with it.

He was in the middle of cutting up the old shirt that had always been too big for him when his Gran came home.

“Jonathan Sims what are you doing? Look at this mess!” She scowled. “Why would you do that?”

“I’m learning to make a dress.” He explained holding up the book calmly. 

The old woman blinked. She took the book and flipped through it. Then she glanced at him. It was a significant look. Maybe a resigned one. 

Gran knew how he got when he found an interest, but there was something deeper to it he didn’t understand at the time. 

“Did you… want to wear it to?” She asked. 

“It would be my dress,” He pointed out. 

He wasn’t ignorant. He knew only girls were supposed to wear dresses. But it seemed like a dumb rule, and summer time it got hot. He didn’t really care what people thought of him. He never had. He knew better in a lot of cases. 

He tried not to think of the bully, gobbled up.

“Do you want help?” His Gran asked, making a decision. 

He shook his head. “I want to do it myself.”

She accepted this. Tutted. “Well, if you’re going to go about it, you can’t use a cut up shirt, Jon. Be sensible, that was a nice shirt.”

He didn’t agree, but he didn’t argue either. 

She went into her room and came back with a large square of fabric. “You can use this.”

It looked like it was an old curtain. The pattern was a bit floral for his taste, but it would do for learning at least. 

“Thank you Gran.”

“Clean up your mess and keep it in the corner,” She told him sternly and patted his head. “And--you can wear it if you like… but not outside the house.”

“Why?”

She sighed. “Because Jon.” Like it was obvious.

He wanted to push. He hated when she told him ‘because’ without another word, but… he wanted to get back to his project so he grumbled an agreement and took all his supplies to the corner out of the way and his Gran went into the kitchen to make dinner.

Jon carefully read through the next chapter measuring out and tracing out the pattern. He poked himself with pins a few too many times. Gran called him to dinner, but he didn’t respond until she got in front of him and pulled him to the table. 

He told her what he learned so far.

“That’s nice, Jon.”

She didn’t sound very interested. He ate down his meal and went back to his book. 

He liked this. It was soothing. When he was trying to figure out the measurements and stitching he didn’t have room to think about The Book. Or spider legs. 

Gran shooed him to bed, and shooed him again an hour later when he found he had snuck back out into the living room. 

In bed instead of letting the spider infect his dreams, he thought of stitching. Back and forth through the fabric. How he would shape the skirt. How he would make it all even and measure it properly. Lots of children his age didn’t have the patience to do it right, he told himself. He would get it perfect the first time, go over everything slowly and carefully. 

He didn’t wake up crying, and he didn’t dwell on it. Just went back to his corner still in pajamas. 

“You weren’t at that all night, were you?” Gran asked.

“I got up an hour ago,” Jon said. 

She gave a heavy sigh. “Come eat some cereal.” 

He did, shoveling it into his mouth.

“Slow, Jon.”

He slowed down giving his own heavy sigh. 

He finished up. He was sure he could finish the basic shape today if he was careful and diligent.

He was already planning the next one in his head. He would get better fabric that would suit him. A plaid like the picture on the front cover or maybe just a solid colour. Also there weren’t any pockets. He was sure he could figure out how to make those. Just cut holes in the skirt and sew little sacks in. And since it was a skirt he could make the pockets extra large to keep things in. He smiled to himself thinking about all the things he could collect on his expeditions out of the house. Scowled remembering Gran said he wasn’t allowed to go out in his dress. 

His hair was long though. He let it grow out because he hated getting it cut and it was one of the arguments Gran let him win. If he went far enough out of the neighbourhood no one would know, right? 

He’d have to think about that. There was no way he was going to waste the brilliant idea of big pockets and a cool skirt in the summertime, Gran or no. 

He kept going slow over the next few days, practicing and memorizing the steps. He had almost finished, but it was a school day. Gran sent him out the door.

“No you can’t take it with you. Go on, you can wait to finish.” 

He didn’t like waiting, but she closed the door and he had to go to school.

Most of the girls in his class didn’t wear dresses. Lots of them prefered jeans and overalls. Jenny wore dresses, but hers were a different style than the dress in his book. His were … old fashion, which he was fine with. Jenny liked Spice Girls a lot and a lot of her outfits she tried to base off them. 

He also took the time to look at the boys clothes. All of them were wearing jeans and jean jackets. He didn’t like jean jackets, they got too hot and he didn’t like the feeling of them on his arms. Boys and Girls. Sometimes he didn’t feel much like a boy… but girl wasn’t correct either. As far as he knew that was all there was. School was so unnecessarily complicated. 

He went home. Finished the last few pages and last few stitches. He held it up, admiring the shape. He hesitated before taking it to his room, taking off his pants and shirt and putting it on. It fit pretty well. He swished around the skirt and smiled. He went into the bathroom to take a look. He was right about the floral. It didn’t suit him at all, but he liked how the dress fell. How the skirt was long and covered his knees. 

His next one would have pockets. And it would be a better colour. Something that Lucy in the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe might wear. 

Still. He loved his first dress. He made it himself. He showed his Gran. 

She had a weird look again. Like she wanted to sigh but was holding it in.

“It’s very nice, Jon,” She said.

“Can I get more fabric? I promise I won’t go out if I have some. I want to make another one. With pockets.”

“Oh Jon.” She let her sigh out this time. “You know that…” She hesitated. 

“I know that people are mean to boys that wear dresses. I’m not stupid. But I like it. I want to make another one. I made it myself.” 

“I could get you patterns for boys clothes, if you like.”

He made a face. He didn’t want to read another book about sewing. He knew how to sew. 

He unscrewed his face. “Please?” He asked sincerely. 

She relented, but told him again not to wear them out.

-

When he started working in the Archives he had decided he didn’t care. In college he had experimented. Wearing the clothes he liked out to parties, on dates with Georgie. Some people were rude… or worse to him, most people didn’t care. A few raised eyebrows. 

But at work in a dusty old library he wanted to be comfortable. It was a good job. A dream job. Researching and reading all day the topics he was interested in, and he wanted it to be perfect. He had shown up to his first interview in a sharp skirt. Elias’ expression didn’t show any sort of hostility like he got from a lot of older men. In fact he asked afterward if he had made it himself, how nice the stitching looked. 

So he wasn’t going to hesitate about wearing skirts and dresses to work when he wanted to, especially considering how hot the summer was getting. And he had learned about thermal leggings he could wear underneath that would look nice and keep him warm. No one seemed to have a problem with when he went from trousers one day to skirts the next, well… Steven had. He had been a particularly hostile brute the first month at the Institute. He was constantly making little comments about Jon’s gender and assuming his romantic affiliations and how that apparently made him someone to sneer at. Jon complained to Elias about it.

“He was harassing you about what you’re wearing?” Elias had asked. Jon nodded. He expected Elias to tell him to be a good sport about it. That just because things had changed didn’t mean everyone was so accepting and that he’d just have to be tolerant of the intolerant.

But Steven was gone the next day. Rumour was he was fired. 

When he asked Elias, his boss just smiled.

“He wasn’t a good fit here anyway, Jon. Please don’t hesitate to come to me if you have any problems.” 

He never did. The Magnus Institute was very comfortable for old academia. It felt like being at home in his floral dress again. Getting to wear what he liked.

He made a new dress for his first day as Head Archivist. This was it. The rest of his adult life. Everything figured out. Everything… comfortable.

[thestylesproject]

#57 The Downfall

I think I have done a terrible job. But, I wrote after so long, I’m happy. 

Concept: Rich Y/N has to shift into a small studio with her sister, bringing a complete change from their high society lifestyle. The owner of the studio right in front of them, Harry isn’t too pleased with this move. 

Warnings: Weed, will have smut later. 

3.5K+

---

This was the best they could do. The best they could do for me at the moment. Was it a downfall? A shattering one. Maybe shattering doesn’t justify it. I didn’t expect much from our relatives otherwise either.

“Do we have to stay here?” My sister asked, looking at our tiny studio apartment.

“I’m sorry, darling,” I said, pushing our boxes inside. We sold most of our stuff, including my parent's house which the bank took as collateral. If I wanted my sister to continue going to the private school, which would ensure her future, we had to make that sacrifice. We had limited funds, and thankfully my university was paid for and we had our scholarships, but our way of life, our expenses - everything took a huge hit. “I’m sure we can do something amazing with it!” Decorate it like we always wanted to, but Mum never allowed us because of white walls?” I tried to cheer her up.

“I don’t know if I want to go against her now,” She sighed, sitting on the bed.

“Alright! You know what? Why don’t you make me us some pancakes, and I’ll get all the boxes inside, and we can then unpack?” She nodded, always love the idea of cooking. I hope I could send her to the best school one day, but she was only 13, and I had time to worry about that.

I walked out, looking at the dingy corridor filled with my stuff, and a door on the opposite side. Should probably say Hi to my new neighbour - maybe bake some cookies as an exchange? Wouldn’t hurt.

I tried being strong in the entire process. Losing our home, our wealth, our everything took a strong hit, with our personal relationships as well. My boyfriend broke up with me, my friends who I used to hang out with me stopped texting when I shifted homes. They all knew about the loss of income, and my world had always been shallow. I had a list of things to mourn about and absolutely no time at the moment.  

Setting up the tiny studio was hard, but we managed to fit our stuff. I was proud of how well my sister was taking it, knowing how difficult it must be for her. “Excited to go to school tomorrow? The bus, I found out, actually comes right down the lane, so it’s not much walking-”

“Why do people care about money so much? How does it matter if we don’t have it more of it, anymore? We have enough to still go to school. I am still me, then why are kids so shallow,” My sister asked, and I felt like she had aged so much in the last month.

“People are always shallow. You know how Mum made fun of all of Dad’s friends? She got it as well! Remember that friends who leave you in your time of need, are not friends, to begin with, and you should always strive for true friendship. Always be kind, and hardworking and keep your head up high. We don’t need anything else!” She hugged me tightly, crying into my chest. I hope things aren’t as hard for her.

If missing three weeks of University was bad, having your group of friends ignore you, while you tried to settle in was worse. Obviously, I didn’t come in my Porsche, obviously, I took the train, and obviously, I went to the student cafe for lunch and not the restaurant like my old routine. Everyone knew what happened, what was there to gossip about?

Max, my ex-boyfriend came and sat beside me during the gap in my schedule. I stayed away, feeling the negativity and toxic air that I didn’t want to interact. “You didn’t say hi,” he said.

“I didn’t know you noticed people who didn’t have the heritage money in the bank,” I closed my book.

“Look-”

“I can’t deal with this, Max. You said enough at Cheryl’s party, and I didn’t realize how pathetic we were. I need to widen my horizon, find my people who don’t make friends with bank accounts.”

“I didn’t say anything!” He argued.

“Oh, so you just laughed with Catherine and Misha. Same thing! And, you broke up with me. Two weeks after my parents- you should go!” I stood up.

“My mother made me do that! You know how important standing is, you were a part of it-”

“I am still a part of it. I still have all my standing, all my recommendations in place because I didn’t buy them as you did. I am better than you, all of you. I didn’t love you for how much you could spend,” Walking away from him, felt good. I didn’t have the time to wallow.

I was still on top of my class. My professors expected write-ups but, I was on schedule to graduate by the end of the year. During lunch, my two friends who I honestly loved the most, and were secretly still there for me, came and sat beside me.

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked.

“This place has amazing Mac ‘n’ cheese if you have to know! And, it’s my cheat day!” Kyle rolled his eyes.

“Oh, stop it!” Meera hit him, hugging me tightly. “We couldn’t tolerate Catherine without your sarcastic remarks! It was intolerable!”

“I’m still mad at you!” Kyle took a bite of his cheat day dish. “I expected you to take your place back, and you didn’t even come and say hi!”

“I texted you though,” I blew him a kiss.

“Anyway,” Meera said, taking my hands, “I never liked that group thing. Let’s not do it again!” I was glad that at least at least I was a person who had made tight, genuine bonds.

The train ride home was long. It took me 20 minutes with my car to reach home, but I didn’t live in the central city anymore. I just had to get used to it. Distract myself, observe things in this 65-minute ride back home. A guy sat down in front of me after the old lady got off at her stop. His head was in his phone, earphones in, with his hoody on, and I had a feeling that he was in my class this afternoon. I didn’t notice him, but he had his back to me when I saw him walk out of class, and I didn’t know him. I tried for a while, wanting to make an eye-contact. Maybe he knew me? People knew me, in general. He got off at the same stop as me, and we walked the same way back home. I didn’t have the guts to say Hi.

I stopped on my way to the grocery store. My sister told me about her day, and how her best friend was still her best friend, and I felt it might be alright for us here. We baked cookies for our neighbour, and I rang on the doorbell. The same guy in the train, from my class today opened the door, and the only way I could be sure was because it was the same hoody and the same body structure. I gave him my big smile, always worked with all the people, “Hi! My sister and I just moved in, and we baked you some cookies and introduce ourselves!”

“You are Y/N Y/L/N. What are you doing here?” He said, shocked.

“You know me! I wanted to say Hi while we were on our way back but, didn’t get the chance to do that!” he frowned, looking a little pissed, and I wondered if I did something wrong. “This is my sister, Sara!” I pulled her forward to ease the tension. He smiled at her, and I could see his dimples and my sister gave him the cookies.

“Thank you, Sara! I’m Harry” He nodded. “Let me know if you need anything.” He said, talking to her and then closed the door on my face before I could speak.

“Did you do something to him?” My sister asked.

“I don’t know him!” I said, turning to our door.

“He doesn’t seem to like you,” she said, laughing.

“I know. I don’t even know why.”

“He is really handsome, though!” She elbowed me.

“I know.”

The mystery grew further when Harry categorically avoided me for the next few weeks. Life wasn’t exactly getting easy with asking my sister to control her expenses, and her crying, and trying to make food every day on top of managing a child, and then keeping in check with her schools demand of a guardian which I was now, and my Uni’s demand of just torture. Plus, I was late today, and our small sofa seat was getting delivered today. The stuff from my our old house had been sent to a storage space which my parents had bought, and we owned a small sofa piece and table set which we could fit in our apartment since we desperately needed a sitting structure.

After fighting with the delivery guy for the unnecessary extra amount he was charging to take it up one floor, I had him leave it downstairs. I was going to do it one at a time when I saw Harry coming in.

“Hey!” I shouted.

He took off his earphones, “Yeah?”

“Could you help me? I need to take these up, and I don’t have any help and I would really appreciate it,” I begged.

He thought about it a bit, and then, nodded. Taking the table up the stairs, he asked, “is this marble?” looking at the countertop.

“Yeah, I think it is,” I said smiling.

“Why are you living in a dump like this if you can buy a marble table?” He said, and I could sense the disdain in his voice.

“It’s actually my parents, from our old house. So, I didn’t have to buy it actually. Just making use of things as much as we can,” I told him.

“I heard, I am sorry.” He said as we went back down to get the sofa chair. “Hold it the other way,” he instructed as we tried to get it up the stairs, but it was really heavy. Finally managing to take it inside my place, we sat down.

“Thank you so much for helping me with this!” I stood up and got him some water.

“I should get going,” he walked towards the door.

“Oh, you know we are making pesto chicken for dinner if you’d like to join us. We found out that I am a good cook.” I smiled.

“That’s alright.” He said walking out.

“Did I do something?” I asked, all of a sudden and then bit my tongue. He frowned. “I mean, you don’t seem to like me, and I don’t know you so, I’m just, umm confused.”

“Am I supposed to like you?” He said, irritated. The fact that he was actually really beautiful, made me want him to like me, and he clearly didn’t.

“Okay, “ I gulped. “Thank you for helping me.” I nodded, hiding behind my door.

Meera did her research on him and found out that my parents had actually placed a case on Harry’s fathers business. They were the sharks in their field so, I wouldn’t have been surprised. They used to be as wealthy as us, so we had a similar downfall. Only with him, the case ended with his father losing his business, and imprisonment for 10 years on stolen copyright. It was a serious deal. His mother remarried three years ago, and Harry has been cut off and living in the studio which was surprisingly all we both could afford. I could get why he didn’t like me, but it wasn’t my fault.

Another thing about Harry was that he had a line of women coming into his flat, and leaving early morning when my sister left for school. “I think this is the 17th one,” she whispered the other day, as I walked with her and we giggled about it. We had caught him in a towel, the day before when my sister knocked on his door for a toolbox, and it would have been a lie if I didn’t drool a little. He had tattoos covering his sculpted stomach, his hand holding his towel on, with his hair wet, falling on his face, clean shaven so, you could see those sharp jawlines before my eyes shamefully met his big green ones, after I had stared and engrained everything else.

“Those girls are very lucky,” I whispered back to my sister, and she giggled some more.

He was really smart as well. Paying extra attention to my studies, I noticed who the class toppers were, and we were at the top. Well, he was. Girls talked a lot about him as well. I guess, he played the I don’t care much about anything attitude well enough, making him that mysterious. I noticed he hung out with three guys, and two girls here and there. He mostly ignored me, even when we were on the same way home, and I couldn’t help feeling small. And he always had the best stash of weed - some good connection of his.

I could do with some weed. The pressure was finally taking a toll on me and I needed a break. I felt like a full-time mother, with a full-time Uni schedule and a part-time job, and it was getting to me. I didn’t have to do more than half it, just a few months ago. The lawyers said I was doing well with my sister, and my schedule and they don’t have to take her away if I kept it up.

Wanting some that night, and knowing he had a good seller, I knocked on his door. He opened the door, raising his eyebrow. He was wearing a shirt which was buttoned down and tucked into his pants. I could see his tastes were still high fashion - it was the way we dressed and money didn’t change that. I did now, know the best cheap places to keep the style up though. I gulped looking at his chest, and then, up to his eyes. I was also horny as fuck, and having my sister sleep next to me every day, didn’t help. He didn’t smirk like men usually did though, and it gave me the confidence to ask him if he had any on hand, if I could buy some of him for now, and get his contact.

“The rich girl can’t walk down to a dispensary and get it for herself?” That disdain again.

“I’m not rich anymore,” I snapped. “I’m sorry,”  I calmed myself. “I heard you have a good supplier, and I...it’s cool. Thanks anyway.” I shrugged. He made me want to crawl in bed and cry with the tone he used, and his expressions meant for me.  I was going to do just that when he stopped me.

“I was going to roll myself one, right now. Join me,” he pulled his door wide and walked off inside. I nervously pulled my hair behind my ear and walked inside. His house, as small as mine, was spotlessly clean, and so well organised that it made mine look shabby.

“Where is your sister?” He asked as he sat down on the sofa, holding the grinder in his hand.

“Sleepover, friends,” I told him. He raised his head up, nodding. “Do you know how to roll?”

“Umm, actually I never smoked that much,” I said, waiting for the further judgement.

“Really? What was your escape then?” He asked, taking the paper out, and tearing a cardboard piece for the roach. His hands worked skillfully as he put the weed on the paper, looking at me for a reply.

“Umm, escape?” I frowned.

“From the high society drama that you were a part of? I know, I needed an escape,” I was a bit enchanted with how he pulled his tongue out to like the paper to roll the joint, that it took me a while to come back.

I played it cool, pulling my eyes away, “Umm, I had a good family. Only needed an escape when I was really stressed which well didn’t…”

“Fair enough, shall we?” We walked to the balcony, and he lit the joint, taking a drag, and then handing it to me.

I took a smaller one, it being a few months since having smoked, and I didn’t want to look like an idiot.

“So, how was your day?” I asked, looking at the car park view in front of us.

“Alright.” He should ask me back. He didn’t.

“Do you wanna pair up for Benjamin’s class?” I should shut up. I have no clue how I have such great ideas all the time. “We live here, so it’ll just be easier to meet up, so I wondered.”

“Huh,” he didn’t look impressed, as he took another drag before giving it to me.

He didn’t respond, and I was running out of things to talk about, but I was now high and could vouch for his stuff being really great. He threw the bud away, and we walked inside. “Give me a list of what you want, I’ll get it,” He said, handing me a paper.

“Oh, I umm - I don’t want a lot. My sister and I don’t know how to roll,”

“I’m not your servant,”

“What- I- I didn’t,” I sighed. “If you could get me two pre-rolled - that would do for the while. Let me know how much I owe for it. Thank you for today.” I said walking towards the door. “I don’t know why you’re so hostile towards me, you know.” This surge of confidence in me was induced for sure. “I didn’t do you anything.”

“You don’t know? We have a history.” He said, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Our parents have a history. I had nothing to do with the business, and I haven’t met you before, even if we used to be in the same circle. I would remember you,” I walked towards him, pointing a finger at his chest.

“Your parents are the reason my home broke, and my dad’s in prison!” He snapped. “They had a choice to let him go, after destroying us, but he didn’t stop. My mother left-”

“My parents were not the reason your mother left! And your father probably deserved by law what happened to him!”

“I am sure your parents deserved what happened to them!”

I shut up. My brain was a bit slow to process the hurt and put it in front of me like bricks. But, it all came back. The memories, the blood, the sold sign in front of our house, my sister’s howl, and my eyes went cloudy, as I sat down right there on his floor.

“They died,” I whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Harry knelt down in front of me. “I didn’t mean it.”

I was too far gone though, as I looked at my hands, realising that I hadn’t cried since I last held them in my arms when, ”there was so much blood,” i showed him my hands, as he looked at me, my tears pouring out. “I couldn’t save anyone, I tried to-” I said shivering now.

“Hey-hey, it’s okay, it’s alright,” He wrapped his arms around me pulling me to his chest. I broke down in his arms.

The next thing, clear in my mind is waking up in a bed, Harry’s bed with his arms still around me, holding me to his body. I shifted a little, back in my conscious head waking him up as well, and his eyes met mine. I kept my head, back on the pillow, not taking my eyes off of his, still having nothing to say. I had opened up to this man more, than literally anyone else. I could still feel his arm under my head, and his other hand wrapped around my waist, my body still attached to his, and I felt comfortable. I didn’t want to read into this. I just wanted to let it be.

He shifted, pulling his hand up from below my head, and I got up, closer to his face, his eyes still on mine, and I instinctively bent down. My lips wrapping around his bottom one in a  kiss, as I pushed him down, towards the bed. I felt his hand, hold my face pulling us apart, as our eyes met again, looking for something. He found it, as he brought his lips back to mine, holding my face in his palms, pushing me back to his bed with a force which felt perfect in every way.

---

Would love to know what you think of it? Comments/Request for Part 2? 

Masterlist

Copyright ©theStylesproject 2019: ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. THIS WORK CONTAINS MATERIAL PROTECTED UNDER INTERNATIONAL AND FEDERAL COPYRIGHT LAWS AND TREATIES. NO PART OF THIS WORK MAYBE REPRODUCED OR TRANSMITTED IN ANY FORM OR BY ANY MEANS WITHOUT EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM theStylesproject.

[thehappymessproject]

38/100 - A very different kind of world, in just a few generations

Today, I need hope. I feel cranky and defeatist. I feel too pessimistic for my own good. I know (some of the) why and am doing my reflection work, but I need something extra right now : I need to connect back to my joy. I started with extra self-care and found out that one artist I really enjoy, Coco Bee, published new videos about using paint to treat anxiety and stress. It felt good to use watercolour in such a simple way to meditate.

So instead of sharing love today, I’d like to share why I am doing this. Why I am writing about self-love and emotional intelligence, about how to get happier, stronger, more resilient, find meaning in our life and relationships, well, basically why I am writing on how to human.

I almost started to lose my point when writing this, but then remembered a conversation I had recently with my partner, noticing that I rarely talk about my dreams for our world. I thought that sharing this would help me connect to my joy and you to know me a little better. 

Humans are fundamentally good and altruistic. It may sound naive to a lot of people, but it’s actually all over our biology and physiology. When we do good, a lot of things in our bodies and minds do way better. When we don’t, the body takes a toll. I dream about a world where people know that from a very young age.  We are wired to be good. And in my dreams, we know about it as soon as possible. 

From kindergarten, we would be taught about emotions, and what they mean to us, and how they can be really helpful to us. We would be taught about relationships too, because like emotions, we all have them, but how they work best needs to be taught in order for us to be better as a society. By giving those tools to tiny humans as soon as we can, we could make the world an incredible place in just a few generations. 

From the youngest age, we could teach children how to treat each other, and themselves better (no one can give love without having some for ourselves). That wouldn’t completely and radically erase violence, intolerance, or bullying, but it would start to, by stop making them a norm first. No one is born racist, sexist, driven by power and money, and egocentric, we are socialised to be. 

Kindergartens become even more wonderful places when they are coupled with senior homes and programs, and with farms and other ways to teach how to tend to animals and the Earth. They are all huge wins for every party involved. 

A few years later, we could start programs helping children to engage with activism. There is something magical happening for humans who realise that we are all here to help save the world a little bit, at our own scale. The magic happens both inside and outside each of these individuals. By giving children tools to explore how they want to save the world, and then the space to actually make it, being an activist in any way could become the norm. Think about all the good that could organically happen then. 

Still in primary school, we could teach them leadership alongside with relationships. And how creativity works, and how we are all creative. All are learnable skills. By teaching them to all and starting young, not only would we have better leaders, creatives and artists but we would ensure that everyone could know and experiment very young with their natural talents. 

Those children would be so well equipped to rule the world while making it a better place for all, for everyone alive. From there, we could basically make sure anyone going through hardship or new life phases could be accompanied too. 

Newly weds (or just new couples) should be counselled. Divorced people too. There would be grief workshops and group therapy.  We couldn’t hold any place of power or leadership without an extensive and ongoing formation on how to do in a humanistic way.  Prisons would really allow people to get better. (prisons would be entirely different places in that vision too) Hospitals would be filled of accessible workshops and group therapy to get through all the hardship of being sick, dying, or working and loving people who are.  Senior homes would be hub to make the best of those wonderful people abilities, giving them the opportunity to keep feeling seen and needed. 

In this world, most of us would really have the possibility to be the best version of themselves. Which means that, naturally, all the suffering that is inflicted by people who are profoundly unhappy, would diminish drastically.  Everything we deem as “the normal evil of humans” (like racism, sexism, violence, injustice, intolerance and bigotry in general) would be seen as ludicrous as cannibalism is.  No one would be refused something they need for their survival or mental health. Everyone would get a minimum of things and money they need to have a decent life. Of course this kind and all kinds of education would be free.

That’s my vision of the future. Fortunately, I share it with many others, but we need all hands on deck for that to happen. We need to cooperate, the very thing our species has to rely on for survival. That’s why I am teaching how to human here, through my job, my talks, my art, my way of living and choosing my relationships. 

Those things lacking in our world is what make me angry the most. That’s what makes my heart pumping and my soul feels like I was born to help making happen. And it’s an honour and a privilege to share it with anyone willing to. 

See you tomorrow,  Love,  L. 

[madi2112]

The Bubble

At work we have a saying that we throw out to each every once in a while.

"How's your bubble doing?"

It's kind of our "Disney speak" way of asking "How you are feeling today?"

More specifically "Are you feeling up, cheerful and friendly?"

Because as Castmembers that's what we do. We bring the happy. We bring the positive. We bring the magic.

Well, as much as we can.

I can't speak for my fellow Castmembers, I can only for myself but I love that aspect of my job.

I love the positive vibes and the great interactions I get to have with guests.

I love it even more when I get to share my love of Disney with fresh new Castmembers to the Magic Kingdom.

Which is one of many reasons why I totally love doing my facilitator duties.

Even though I share a lot of information with these new Castmembers in the couple of hours I have them on my tour, I don't care if they can't remember any of the factoids I presented to them.

All I really care about is the feeling they leave with.

A feeling of energy, feeling the sincere welcoming of them to the Magic Kingdom, a feel for the pixie dust.

Those are the things that help form that bubble.

And I'm grateful to be a part of that.

I try to share that same mindset when I'm interacting with guests in the park.

It's what they want, it's what they look forward to. It's part of what makes Disney, well...Disney.

There is one thing though that makes that bubble more and more difficult to keep from popping.

The guests themselves.

It seems to me an ever higher and higher percentage of people that visit us appear to take pleasure in being rude, demanding, difficult and often down right mean.

They love to throw around phrases like " Do you know how much it costs us to be here" [yes, I do! The same amount as everyone else here today paid] or the ever popular " I read on the internet you have to do...(fill in with what they demand") [ heard that one a few days ago when someone showed up and hour after we closed. "I read online that you MUST serve us if we have a reservation no matter when we arrive" they told me]

More specifically to being part of a restaurant location they say things like "What do you mean there's no tables available? [Reservations opened months ago and people booked ahead] It's only Saturday night at 7pm". The often heard "I'm two hours early for my reservation and want to eat right now, why can't I get a table?" [Because your reservation is for a time, and it's not that time!]

But these I'm sure are all very familiar things to anyone who has worked in a position that has contact with the general public.

I've heard all of these before (as has every Castmember) and we can just ignore it and go on. Bubble intact.

For me there is an extra force trying to break that bubble though.

The intolerance of so many out there towards people like myself.

I see and feel it almost everyday. So many times I've walked through the dining room and seen them staring at me with daggers in thier eyes and sheer hatred on thier faces.

It's one of the biggest reasons I went ahead and resubmitted my transfer request to join the Media Relations Department. I want to cut down on the interactions I have with guests. Which is sad, but true.

The stares, the whispers, the misgendering are all taking thier toll on me.

I'm afraid if I don't transfer my bubble will eventually burst.

I really don't want that. I love being a Castmember. I'm just thinking I might be better suited in a Backstage role.

Like facilitator.

~ Madison

< 3 am after a long shift helping with the after hours Christmas Party>

[overdrivels]

The Way to a Heart (2)

You all underestimate how much I love this character. I also want to thank @dickbutt-writes-again for listening to me freak out so patiently, and giving such concise advice. It’s really helpful.

<<Chapter 1

Your day starts whenever your customers demand it, whether it be seven in the evening for Reinhardt's warm milk or three in the afternoon for Ana's 'tea parties'. The three main meals of the day are also ad-hoc as the agents are always coming in and out of the base at unpredictable times, work through their mealtimes, and (perhaps the worst offense of all) just plain refuse to eat.

Your day ended whenever all agents have retired for the day (or night); those days are few and far between. It wouldn't do to be unavailable when an agent is going hungry, so the time in between orders are filled with other tasks: cleaning, prep work, checking inventory, attending and scheduling remote meetings, planning menus, updating ledgers, maintaining the kitchen tools, etc. The days of twenty chefs in the kitchen at its peak hours (six at its lowest), everyone with a specific responsibility, are long gone.

Sleep came in the form of naps that pass in a blink. A proper night’s rest was impossible with agents like McCree, who is constantly haunted by nightmares and seek the companionship of alcohol to keep them at bay, and Agent D.Va, who refuses to sleep at an appropriate time and wanders often into the cafeteria in search of a late night snack (and some interesting, albeit one-sided, conversations).

Mornings, however quick they come, bring about the need to double check inventory to ensure that no one has come into the kitchen and filched anything. While Athena keeps the place under close watch while you sleep and will alert you of any intruders, she's not omnipotent.

You bite your lip as you go through the numbers, slipping in and out of the walk-in freezer, counting up near-empty containers, meticulously labeled in blue tape and sorted by category.

It shouldn't surprise you so much since the growth of the organization would naturally come with the growth of appetites, but whenever Agent Hanzo orders, the food supplies deplete rapidly. At first, you had chalked it up to malnutrition from being on the run for so long and not having a proper meal, but it is beginning to wear on your limited resources. It’s lucky he’s not at the base often, having to get shipped off with other agents for various missions. (Though, the demands for seconds never fails to make you smile and your heart swell—nothing is better than to know your customers have a healthy appetite and enjoy your cooking.) Between him, Agent Zarya, Agent Reinhardt, and Agent Roadhog, it’s impossible to predict just how much food you’d need without over-ordering.

"Athena. Stats, please."

From one of the screens high above the kitchen, once (and still is) used to show the incoming orders, the statistics of how many calories each agent has burned and a rough estimate of how much they consumed (and lost) within the past twenty-four hours are posted for your scrutiny.

You thin your lips and pace the kitchen, tapping the notepad in your hand. Agent Soldier: 76 has been at the top of the charts lately, and returning his food only half-finished and cold hours later. (It’s painful in more ways than one when you have to scrape off the crusted remains; it makes sleep even more difficult to come by). There's also the matter of Agent Symmetra's dietary restrictions; Agent Mei’s lactose intolerance; Agent D.Va’s preference for spicy food; Agent Reinhardt’s health; the list goes on and on.

As disappointing as it is, it's also a blessing that some agents do not require food (like Agent Zenyatta, who politely passes by your window with a gentle greeting and a friendly wave that you would return shyly. Agent Winston, on the other hand, refuses to eat much beyond peanut butter related delectables and takes the combined effort of Athena and yourself to convince him to eat something different.

You flip through your list again, already mentally trying to piece together a menu for today's meals and snacks from the limited ingredients. There’s always an abundance of rice, so you may have to stick with that again. Maybe some congee for breakfast with some shredded ginger on top (extra ginger for Agent Solider: 76 to open up his appetite). That could help with the rationing, but it’s not necessarily something that all agents would enjoy. Maybe oatmeal should also be given as an option today. But then it’d require toppings that you don’t have.

You turn a page, pursing your lips.

Perhaps the flour reserved specifically for Captain Amari's cookies may have to find its way into everyone else's food. (It's a secret stash of ingredients specially ordered for the woman's afternoon tea gatherings. You took great joy in watching these sessions from the screens in your kitchen, oven still hot and kettle at the ready in case more provisions were needed. You had watched friendships forged over the buttery, crumbly treats, and several relationships mended from a single cup of tea.)

You shake your head of the thought. No, you could never do that to her. The old Head Chef would have your head (but not before Captain Amari did).

Perhaps from another source...

Your sigh echoes in the cavernous kitchen.

The notepad is placed onto an empty counter, and you roll up your sleeves.

It's four days until the next shipment, almost all agents are present. Running out to buy more ingredients is plausible, but risky, and funds were being allocated elsewhere at the moment. If you’re careful and creative enough, you can stretch the current inventory over these remaining days. 

And the health and well-being of the agents always came first.

You'll make this work somehow.

Two days have passed.

You chew some mint leaves, the soothing taste counteracts the slow burning in your stomach that is slowly crawling up into your chest that you steadfastly ignore.

‘Captain Amari prefers this without sauce and a lemon wedge,’ you remind yourself as you finish plating the fish. You reach into the garnish counter with shaky fingers and place the citrus slice beside the well-seasoned, pan-roasted sea bass fillet with blistered asparagus and grape tomatoes. Two slices of thick bread (no butter), her tea (dark like the night with mint), and her appetizers are at the ready on the tray.

You deliver it to the window where the woman waits—you didn’t even have to ring the bell.

The woman slides the tray over to the side, leaning in and down onto the counter. "Have you eaten yet?"

The insides of your stomach prickles and aches at the question, and you have to resist the urge to press down on it. Captain Amari is far too sharp for a woman of her years.

You thread your fingers together to disguise the trembling.

A thick french accent rises from your memories, sharp and loud, "Chefs do not eat until their customers have eaten." It echoes in your mind, stabbing itself into your stomach repeatedly.

"I will," you lie. "After, after I have served everyone." The paltry numbers of today's inventory flashes through your head.

She huffs, disbelieving. "In that case, I will not be having my cookies today."

"You...won't?"

Your mind betrays you and immediately begins concocting recipes that could make use of the eggs, flour, butter, and sugar that the sniper's cookies normally call for. Tortillas, pancakes, velouté sauce, pretzels, soufflés--the possibilities stream in like a torrent at the behest of your aching stomach. It's enough to make you salvate just a bit.

"No, I believe I've had my fill for now."

Integrity shocks your mind out of its gluttonous stupor of handmade pasta, puff pastry, vol-au-vent, and pierogi, and you slap your hands against the counter in alarm.

"Are the, the cookies no longer to your satisfaction? Do they require adjustment? Too much sugar? Too little sugar? Should I change the flour?"

She chuckles, one bony hand resting firmly atop yours. You jerk back, but her grip is too strong. She leans down and pokes her head through the window to peer at you with her single eye. You lean back and look away--her gaze is too sharp, she can likely see the weariness beneath your eyes and the crackling of your lips. You run your tongue over them self-consciously.

“Feed yourself,” she chides firmly, wagging a finger. “Do not make me come in there.”

It is against the rules for non-kitchen staff to enter this sanctuary, but even so, you took her threat to heart. “Yes, madame.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

"Close the kitchen for an hour, and eat." Without giving you any room for argument, she picks up her tray and walks away, the tail of her jacket flowing behind her.

The quiet holds you for a moment before you look up at the screen. It's blank, but the clock is nearing noon. Closing the kitchen now would mean that the agents would have to wait until you're finished, and that wouldn't do. Maybe you could get by with chewing on some more mint until after lunch is served.

You suddenly grab your midsection when the fire in your stomach flares up angrily as if to protest your decisions, dry coughs disappearing into the sleeve of your elbow. It takes a few moments for you to compose yourself, but by then, your vision is swimming with dots of blues, greens, and whites.

Maybe you should heed Captain Amari's wisdom, after all.

When Ana comes for her afternoon tea, before you hand off her order, you ask again, “Arre you absolutely certain you would not like to have your cookies, Cap--Agent Ana?”

Granted, it would take half an hour to make them at this point, but the nagging in your mind remains.

"I'm very sure," she assures you. “Have you eaten yet?”

Embers still burn in your stomach, but it's bearable--not worth a mention.

“I have, thank you."

It’s the spare heads, fins, and tails of the seabass you have served everyone made into a broth over some leftover rice, but was still a meal that placated your stomach. (You had decided to save the ingredients Captain Amari so generously offered for another occasion—maybe make her some aish baladi—Egyptian bread. It’s not your strong point, but it was something you were willing to attempt for her.)

"Good. You must keep yourself in good health, we are counting on you.” 

“Yes, madame.” 

She scoffs, muttering something fond under her breath as she hefts the tray. "Now, I don’t suppose you could join us today?"

It’s not the first time she’s asked you to join her for tea. But what if someone orders and you're not there to receive it? What if they see you sitting around, joking, laughing, and making merry with the other agents while they stand at the terminal, waiting?

Your hands fly to your face and you inhale sharply. No, that won't do. Eating with your customers is something you can’t do. A chef does not eat before or during their customer’s meal times without someone there to cover.

“Thank you for the offer, but—I couldn’t.”

The older Amari hums contemplatively. "We'll get you to join us one day."

“Please enjoy your tea,” you say, pretending that her comment was just kind teasing and not a threat.

“Where are the cookies?” is the immediate reaction from Hanzo, who has started to become a regular member of these little get-togethers. 

"Why, is that all this old woman is good for? Are the cookies the only reason you keep me company?”

“I--no, you are mistaken.” Hanzo looks away, crossing his arms tightly against himself. 

“I’m just teasing,” she says warmly, placing the tray of cups and kettle on the table. Hanzo grunts, acknowledging the sentiment, but still indignant.

"Oh, let me." Mei is quick to lay out the cups and pour the tea while Ana takes her rightful seat. Hanzo looks irked that he would not be having Ana’s specialty cookies today, but a quick pat from the senior sniper on his arm changes that.

"Don't pout. We'll have some next time."  

"I do not pout. Do not be ridiculous."

She gives him a smug look over the rim of her cup that he tries to pointedly ignore with a loud slurp of his tea and winces at the taste--just a little too dark, doused far too heavily in sugar and mint.

From the kitchen, you stifle a laugh behind your hand as you watch Hanzo's reaction from the screens where the orders normally appear, jotting down in your notepad to make up for this lack of cookies, and that Agent Hanzo dislikes Koshary tea. 

Chapter 3>>

[wizcrdingheadcanons]

Hi can you do Fred and George for the EDH? Ily all but I wanted to know if Agnes could do it? (I haven't seen that much of her yet) thanks 💗

You got it!

1. What does their bedroom look like?

The two of them shared a bedroom at the Burrow all their childhood. The room is almost symmetric, with identical sets of furniture on each part of the room, one for Fred and One for George. Organization and order are not something they find super important, so the room is quite messy, but you can see a small difference between the two halves of the room, George is just a little bit more organized. The twins have been able to find a spell that quickly organizes the room, to use when they hear mrs. Weasley in the hallway. The room is cozy, and dressed in the Gryffindor colors. On every surface there are little experiments or research for the joke shop happening, and candy from the skiving snackboxes are lying around, often used to trick their siblings.

2. Do they have any daily rituals?

I think they are quite free from rituals, but keep ones they really like. They find family important, and make sure to spend time with siblings and parents every day. Both at home and in school they find time to talk to Ron and Ginny every day at mealtime, at Hogwarts they tend to sit close to them at the Gryffindor table. Every evening after dinner at the Burrow they drink a cup of warm milk in the kitchen with their siblings before going to bed, something they have done since they were little.

3. Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?

The twins play quite a lot of quidditch. At Hogwarts, the practices with the Gryffindor team were enough for them. After they quit school they tried to make jogging a weekly routine, but that didn’t catch on, and the only exercise they got was quidditch and running around the shop.

4. What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

They know that they always can asks Molly for some food if it’s her occupying the kitchen. She prides herself in her children never going hungry for long, and even when times were tough money.wise food was always a priority of hers. Molly and Arthur usually cooks dinner for the family, but the twins have a secret stash of food in their room for when the kitchen is busy or there isn’t any dinner left for them.

5. Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

They like to keep their spaces clean, there is never any dust or dirt around them, but organization and order isn’t that important. When developing new products for the shop they keep it fairly organized, they don’t want the unknown content of a hot cauldron spilling over anything, but they only do what’s necessary.

6. Eating habits and sample daily menu

At the Burrow and in school food is served regularly, and the cooking isn’t anything they need to worry about. Molly usually cooks, and often needs help, something they don’t hesitate to do, they know that this will make her happy and proud. Their eating habits are pretty normal and basic, nothing strange, but they are known to miss a meal when concentrating hard on something special.

7. Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

They are social, and usually waste time talking to their twin or friends when working or doing schoolwork. Both of them are easily distracted, and it other people usually have to remind them to keep working and stop talking. As long as they get things done in reasonable time, wasting time whilst doing so isn’t an issue.

8. Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging

They LOVE all types of candy! Fred is especially keen on Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, and love tricking people with them, whilst George loves chocolate frogs. When he was young he had a huge collection of cards, and loved trading with Ron. They have no problem with indulging, as long as it’s done reasonably. When they were little they were both quite chubby, as they loved candy and Molly couldn’t say no to their adorable faces.

9. Makeup?

They have definitely tried it, both as a joke and seriously. It’s nothing they do regularly, but they have no problem with wearing it. Especially George loves using a little to look extra nice for parties and such.

10. Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?

No, they are both quite happy and peaceful people. Of course they have issues with mental health, like everyone does, and they are not afraid to ask for help. George is just that little bit more anxious than his twin, something that can be seen quite clearly when you get to know them.

11. Intellectual pursuits?

They are constantly looking for new techniques to add to their products for Weasleys’ wizard wheezes, and have no problem with reading a book or studying hard to find them. Many of the things that they sell are made with difficult and impressive magic, something not a lot of people recognize. This is also the case with lot of the pranks they played throughout their school years.Their decision to quit school had nothing to do with it being too hard, it was simply because they had other plans and didn’t find the education interesting enough.

12. Favorite book genre?

I think that the twins’ book genre of choice would be something with a lot of drama and mysteries and with a “quick” storyline. But, they do love a good feel-good book and their bookshelves are full of all genres. They often ask their friends for book recommendations and are open to give any genre a try. They love most books and genres, but can’t stand science fiction.

13. Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

The Weasley children were all raised with the knowledge that everyone should be able to identify as any gender or sexuality. They think that everyone should be able to express themselves and that sexual orientation or gender shouldn’t matter that much, the most important thing is being happy with yourself and accepting others. Fred identify as heterosexual, and George as asexual.

14. Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)

So, obviously George loses an ear when he’s 19, but other than that they have no visible physical abnormalities. They both have pretty bad hay-fever, which causes them to get a blocked nose and itchy eyes in spring. But, thatäs nothing a little magic can’t help.

15. Biggest and smallest short term goal?

Their collective biggest short term goal is to get two kittens. Fred’s smallest short term goal is to buy an easel and George’s smallest goal is to get a potted plant. He is planning to ask Neville for recommendations.

16. Biggest and smallest long term goal?

Their biggest long term goal would be to happy and surrounded by nice and cheerful people. The second biggest goal would be to be successful with Weasleys’ wizard wheezes and be known all over the world for the best magical joke products. George’s smallest long term goal is to have a lot of potted plants when he is older, and Fred’s is to get a trampoline for his house.

17. Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress

Relaxed, both of them despise dressing up. Also, they secretly love the F and G sweaters Molly knits them every year, even though they tell people they don’t. Both of them wear them lots around the house, and really any time they get the chance.

18. Favorite beverage?

Fred loves butterbeer, he keeps one or two with him at all times in case of an “emergency”. George is ADDICTED to coffee, he can’t go a day without a cup. Since he was 13, days without a cup inte morning is ruined for him and everyone around him. He becomes super grumpy, something that lead to Fred nicknaming him “coffee troll”.

19. What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

Possible jokes and pranks and how to get rid of Snape.

20. Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

Fred and George NEVER got ill as children. Only once, Fred got a fever and Molly got really worried, since it had never happened before.

21. Turn-ons? Turn-offs?

Turn-ons include a sense of humour, funny ideas, imaginative and not against breaking rules. Turn-offs are things like caring too much about other people’s opinions and appearance.

22. Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

Both will write down crazy ideas and draw little doodles. Fred like to draw huge things and comics, and George usually draws more detailed things.

 23. How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

I don’t think organization is a priority of theirs, but to run a company you have to be pretty organized. They get things done when they need to be done, and organize just the right amount for their needs. They are good at separating organization in their personal lives and in their business lives, and they don’t hesitate to organize what needs to be organized. As written before, George finds organization just a little bit more important.

24. Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

They don’t consider school and intellectual success extremely important, instead they focus on social and personal achievements. At Hogwarts, their best subject was charms. They knew that it was an important part of them being able to pursue a career working with Weasleys’ wizard wheezes and therefore achieved good grades in the subject.

25. How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

Happy, doing something they love.

26. Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

They just take the days as they come, something that greatly frustrates Molly.

27. What is their biggest regret?

They try not to put to much thought on the past, and to forget anything that they regret.

28. Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?

Lee Jordan has been their best friend since they first started Hogwarts back when they were 11 years old. Their worst enemy is of course Voldemort. Before he came back, when they were younger, their worst enemy was Professor Snape, they constantly plotted against him and tried to get rid of him.

29. Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)

Both would react instantly, and try to solve the situation and help people around them.

30. Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

Fred’s reaction would be to prevent it happening again and become aware of the situations around him to as quickly as possible be able to act. He would try to shut of his emotions, but would sooner or later break and feel every emotion related to the experience. George would be devastated, and just need to cry it out.

31. Most prized possession?

Their twin brother.

32. Thoughts on material possessions in general?

Some are necessary, but not all. They both think that we generally put to much weight on them.

33. Concept of home and family?

Love.

34. Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)

Neither of the twins are very private, but they know to keep some parts of their lives to themselves. They are known among their friends to be a little to open, but they don’t mind.

35. What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?

Nothing, they enjoy everything they spend time doing. Their philosophy is that as long as something gives them happiness or pleasure it isn’t a waste of time.

36. What makes them feel guilty?

Being to judgemental and talking about people behind their backs. Being twins they are sometimes exclusive towards towards other people, something they both feel bad about.

37. Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?

They are both very emotional in their decisionmaking, and sometimes have a hard time being realistic.

38. Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality?

I think that both of them would identify as type B personalities. They are more relaxed and less competitive than others. They don’t get stressed, have a positive outlook on the future and focus on their own achievements over others.

39. What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

Both enjoy reading more than it might seem, and it is something that helps them recharge. A quiet moment alone reading a good book always gives them energy and new ideas. A book paired with some candy is an unbeatable combination. Just talking and joking around with friends always gives them both an energy boost.

40. Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

Neither, they are both very down to earth and humble. But, they don’t lack self confidence and know their strengths and weaknesses.

41. How misanthropic are they?

Not at all! They love being social, know to appreciate others positives and negatives, and they are never judgemental.

42. Hobbies?

Obviously jokes and pranks, quidditch, reading, wizards chess etc.

43. How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?

So obviously they quit school before they graduated, showing that they don’t consider formal education really important. They were raised thinking that education was very important and that finishing it was the ultimate goal, leading to a economically secure and future and success. But, throughout the years they formed their own experience and opinions, that formal education isn’t the most important and that self-education and your own experiences are the most important. But, with this in mind, they do think that everyone should be able to have their own opinions on education, and understand that others think differently.

44. Religion?

They were raised with the idea that everyone should be able to have their own religious thoughts. Even thought neither of the two are religious they do celebrate christmas.

45. Superstitions or views on the occult?

Well, they believe in the occult since they are wizards… But neither believe in divination or astronomy.

46. Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

Fred is the more impulsive and physical one, and mostly expresses feelings and thoughts through deeds and actions. George is a little more sensitive, and usually expresses thoughts in words.

47. If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?

Fred doesn’t have a type appearance wise, but he falls in love with people who are funny, present and not to serious. He feels the need to be with someone that resembles himself in many ways and understands him emotionally.

48. How do they express love?

They both enjoy hugs and cuddles, they do their loved ones favours and tend to just listen to their feelings.

49. If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?

They are very dependent on each other, and attack like a team. They avoid getting into a fist fight for as long as possible, but once they get started there is no stopping them. They are energetic and cooperate to beat their opponent as quickly and smoothly as possible. Sometimes they just can’t keep themselves from taking out their wands. Whilst one of them keep punching, the other casts a bat-bogey hex from behind.

50. Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

The twins are not afraid of death itself, but I think that find it important to die “in action”. They would want to die whilst trying out new products for Weasleys’ wizard weezes, playing a prank or in battle. The most important thing for them is being happy when living, and they do not waste time worrying about the future or death. They view death as something inevitable, but still want to go out in style.

Hope you liked it :)

/Agnes

[victakestaipei]

The Art of Sandcastles & Learning the True Meaning of Balance

Today was quite the day. Last night, after going to the pool party and frolicking around LongDong, I woke up bright and early again this morning to head to FuLong beach, which is a bit further than where I was yesterday. The four of us (Bunny, Nick, Victoria, and I) met up around 9:30am at Taipei Main Station. This was the meeting spot yet again because we had to hop on another train to go outside the city. We bought tickets to the express train (which really was only 15 minutes faster), but after we got our tickets printed, we all realized that it said “no seat” neatly printed smack dab in the middle of the ticket stub. Meaning, that for an hour and 15 minutes, we’re about to be standing. 

The train ride was the definition of irritating. FIRST OFF: Why were we not given the option to select seating??? Yes, we used the kiosk, but there was no button or option to pick a seat… And even if I had to pay extra to be able to sit my ass down it would’ve been worth it. That’s so annoying. And once we got on the train, it was PACKED!! People everywhere, and I found myself, along with my friends, packed in the aisle like sardines in between the people who are comfortably sitting and enjoying the train ride. I put my earphones in and I don’t think I spoke more than 3 sentences the whole ride there. I was just annoyed. And my legs/knees started to ache from just standing and not moving. That had to be the worst part about it, there was no room to move or stretch your legs. I had to wiggle my toes just to make sure I hadn’t lost the feeling. It was such a drag.

We arrived at Fulong, and since it is a fairly small beach town, there were signs everywhere pointing to the beach, and it was super easy to navigate. We got to the beach in about 5 minutes, walking, and it was beautiful! We had to pay for beach entry, which was suprising, but it only cost 100 NT, or about $3-4 US. The weather was perfect: hot, and not many clouds in the sky, and it wasn’t that humid either (compared to Taipei).

The most intolerably humid aspect of the trip was the bathroom by the beach.. which had a locker room area, showers, and those squat toilets that are super popular in China. Bunny and I stopped in there before heading down to the shore, to change into our swimsuits. Have you ever tried pulling off leggings while dripping in sweat?? And then proceeding to pull a dry swimsuit top over your head and pull the bottoms up your sweaty thighs?? That has to be the most uncomfortable thing in the world. Not to mention the fact that I had to roll my leggings off because pulling them down wasn’t cutting it. 

The landscape here was surreal. It was like living in a dream– Or like a fantasy movie. With the water on both sides being separated by a strip of sand, and then the huge green mountains as the backdrop? It was really a beautiful beautiful sight to see. There even was a temple at the end of the strip of beach, which was incredible. 

The first place I went after changing my clothes was to check out the Sand Sculpture display. I crossed the bridge and there it was. It was magnificent!!! Could never stress that enough… THE DETAIL!!! like HOW?!?!?!? I was in a seemingly eternal state of mindblown-ness. This may be my favorite place on God’s green Earth.

The beach was super crowded, but it makes sense because it was Sunday and the water and weather was too perfect to not go to the beach. Everyone in the water was having just the best time. Everyone was playing with frisbees or volleyballs and floaties. It was so fun! Very family oriented and welcoming. I played frisbee with my friends for a while before we got out and went to the other side to try our hand at paddle boarding. 

Because I was extremely sun burnt I tried to keep a shirt on 90% of the day. But when I went to paddle board, they insisted I wear a life vest. Because of this life vest I had a constant wedgie. There were straps that went from the back of the life vest, under/between my legs, and snapped in the front of the vest. Like a diaper, or a harness. A diaper-harness. The purpose of these straps was so that if I fell in the water, the life jacket wouldnt pull up around my neck. The straps that went between my legs were to keep the jacket in place. But, my swimsuit kept getting caught in between these straps and they pulled to one side (creating a cheeky effect) so the innocent people of Fulong got a bit more than they bargained for in terms of a “full moon.”

I asked the lady who rented us the paddle boards to take pictures/videos. She was very kind and very willing. I also told her about my blog and she got super excited!! Love it. :-’)

As it turns out, the true meaning of balance is standing on a paddle board when it’s suddenly super windy and the current is a bit stronger than you’ve ever experienced. When I say the boat was rocking, the boat was really rocking. I fell so so much. The first time I fell, it was so unexpected, and I was shook because I thought I’d lose my favorite pair of sunglasses (which were still on my face at that point). But after a while the falling aspect became fun in a way. Frustrating, but fun. And it helped to know that everyone else was busting their asses too. [[ I guess what I’m trying to get at is that the true meaning of balance is being able to laugh at yourself when you lose balance, because no one is put together all the time. And that it’s okay to lose balance every so often, as long as you keep working and trying to gain it back! Pacing yourself is key. ]] I also didn’t expect paddle boarding to be that much of an arm workout… the current was so strong! It got to be tough going against the grain, so I ended up taking breaks every 5-10 strokes. 

One thing to note is that I don’t think I will ever forget the feeling of laying on my back on the paddle board and staring at the sky watching the clouds roll by. This is the definition of peace. The definition of balance. The definition of pure bliss. Whenever I feel down I’m going to try to remember this feeling. The sun on my face, my feet dipped in the warm water, the light rocking of the board, the scenery… It was ethereal. It was heavenly. It was out of this world. I became so aware of my existence in terms of the vastness of this world and our reality that we live in and it’s hard to wrap your head around.. How small you can feel, but also how important you feel at the same time. It’s the type of peace, calmness, and security you feel in every inch of your body and soul. I want to stay here in this moment forever. 

But like all good things, our day trip to Fulong had come to an end. I took this last little selfie on the bridge before heading back towards the town.

We stopped to grab some food on the way back. Fulong is known for their famous “boxed lunches” and that’s exactly what it was.

You choose your type of boxed lunch based on the meat you wanted. I chose the pork because it was the most popular, and I see why. It was delicious. I scraped the whole box clean.

Pictured below is my box. It had tofu, pork, cabbage and other veggies, pickles, rice, a sweet fish cake, and a tea egg inside. It cost about 70 NT (or $3-4 US). It was really really good. 

My trip to Fulong was one I will never forget. And hopefully I will be back time and time again to enjoy it’s uncanny and fantastical scenery. I can see why it’s the number 1 tourist destination in Northeast Taiwan. 

xoxo

[longforgottenunofficial]

When Did the Haunted Mansion Officially Open? Another Anomaly

[Updated December 20, 2015 and May 24, 2017] As we noted in our last post, oddities and anomalies with regard to the Mansion augment its imaginative impact, whereas with other attractions the flukes are dull dull dull.  A wall that lacks a door that is supposed to be there raises one or two extra goosebumps.  It's a triviality that rises to the level of "a curiosity."  There are other such items with regard to the Mansion.  One has to do with its opening day.  Yes, it is possible to give a definite answer to the question, "When did it officially open?," but only by choosing between two absurdities.  There is no sane third option. Curious?  See, I told you. Wait, everyone knows it opened on Saturday, August 9, 1969, right?  That's what every official Disney organ says, that's what Jason Surrell's book says, and that's what all the Disney fan sites say. The problem is that there is overwhelming evidence that the official opening day was actually Tuesday the 12th.  It's in all the papers, Thelma.  *insert crinkling sound effects here* “Ghosts, ghouls, witches and bats—all swaying and screaming to the eerie tune of 'Grim Grinning Ghosts'—moved into Disneyland’s new Haunted Mansion at midnight.”  —Los Angeles Herald Examiner, Aug 12, 1969, p. A-6 “Disneyland gets a bit spooky starting today—the new Haunted Mansion is opening at the edge of New Orleans Square.”  Picture caption:  “A ghost resident of Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion, which opens to public today, plays a haunting melody.” —Los Angeles Times, Tues, Aug 12, 1969, p. A-1

“Disneyland visitors can expect a perfectly frightful time at the park from now on.  For the most perfect of fun-scares, the long-awaited “Haunted Mansion” is now open to the public....”  “I joined a dis-spirited party of newsmen who opened the $7 million Southern Antebellum mansion near New Orleans Square at the stroke of midnight Monday.” —Sandi Mosley, The Orange County Register, Tues, Aug 12, 1969, p. C2 “So the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland, which opened with appropriately spectral rites at midnight Monday, is a horrifying delight....”  Picture caption:  “The $7 million scare treat opens its creaky doors for the first time Tuesday.” —Malcolm Epley, The Long Beach Independent, Wed, Aug 13, 1969, p. B-1 “After more than 10 years of planning and development, Disneyland opened its Haunted Mansion Tuesday.”        —Keith Murray, Pasadena Star News, Wed, Aug 13, 1969, p. 6 The Disney Annual Report for 1969 lists the opening day of the Haunted Mansion as August 12.

A newsletter for Cast Members published in September is equally explicit: “Employees were given a creep preview August 7 and 8, between the bewitching hours of 7 p. m. and Midnight, before the attraction opened to the public.  Official opening of Disneyland’s 53rd major attraction was Tuesday, August 12.”  —Disneyland Inside, vol. 4, no. 9 (September 1969) As you can gather from some of those clippings, there was a "sneak preview" for the press at midnight, Monday the 11th/Tuesday the 12th, marking the official opening of the Mansion.  A large number of press reports over the next few days refer to it. This is a pretty crushing set of documentary evidence.  There is also some anecdotal evidence, like this note to Jeff Baham at Doombuggies.com:

No one would have been freaked out about the Manson murders in time for an August 9 grand opening. The Sharon Tate murders took place that very morning. So where did the August 9 date come from?  From Marc Davis, apparently.  The can of worms spreads out like this.  There was indeed a Cast Member preview on the 7th and 8th, a so-called "soft opening."  There was also the Monday night/Tuesday morning press preview, marking the official grand opening at midnight.  These were planned and announced in advance.  But according to "Todd Hackett," who worked for Marc Davis many years and was around for the Mansion's debut, Marc took out ads in the LA Times announcing that the Mansion was "now open."  This full-page ad ran on August 9:

Todd Hackett saved a copy of that ad, plus an ad that ran in the Calendar section of the LA Times Sunday, the 10th, and this one is our smoking gun, since the "August 10" date is printed on the ad itself.

According to Hackett, Davis felt the public had waited long enough and decided to pull in one more weekend for the Mansion before the summer was over by opening a few days early.  His impatience with the long delay is manifest in the full-page ad, which he drew himself:

However, there is other testimony claiming that Davis did this reluctantly,acting in response to pressure on him from Disneyland staff:

Update Dec 20, 2015. I've been corresponding with a former WDI Imagineer (known as "gerG"; his friends will recognize the name), and he has some further information to shed on this period:

"I've always heard odd stories about how the Mansion opened. It was an odd, transitional and difficult time for the company in 1969 for management and designers. The company was incredibly profitable, but without Walt, focus was blurred. I know that Marc stepped up and took control of the Mansion, both at WED for design and manufacture, and D'land, for construction, installation and operation. He was at the park a lot to supervise, which was slightly odd, but needed. 

Remember also that the construction schedule for the Mansion was strange. It wasn't planned to open in the beginning of summer, when operations would want. Perhaps it was planned to open in October, which would make sense. Either way, installation went well, and they were testing the ride system (without passengers) in late July."

"gerG" also has information from a friend who knows Alice Davis:

"I spoke to him about the date of the opening. He's rather close to Alice Davis, and he spoke to her last week [i.e. early Dec 2015] about Marc's decision to open it. Alice said that yes, it was Marc who decided to open the mansion, but he was being pressured heavily by d'land operations. He was in the middle of testing and adjusting, and Alice said that he really wanted more time to change things (like the Hatbox Ghost, which didn't work), but he bent to the pressure and agreed to the opening. And remember that there was no press opening...no previews...and almost no advertising. Even those radio spots seem rushed. It was a strange time."

People who saw the ad or who simply happened to be at Disneyland that Saturday found the Mansion open for business.  As gerG says, there was no fanfare, no announcement—nothing.  Davis had it opened despite the press "sneak preview" scheduled for Monday night, and despite the fact that there were apparently still some nagging problems with the ride.  We know that Cast Members spotted problems with the Hat Box Ghost during their soft opening, and mere hours before the Saturday opening he was pulled out (the Hat Box Ghost, not Marc Davis).  During the press event on Monday night there were sound problems, and Disneyland Ambassador Shari Bescos had to stall the reporters until the problem was fixed as they made their way over to the Mansion from Club 33 in New Orleans Square, where the event began.  There is circumstantial evidence suggesting that the hitchhiking-ghost-in-mirror gag was only jury-rigged for the press event and the backup effect was put back in place sometime during the 12th, which remained on the books as the official grand opening day.

Problems and all, the early opening worked.  Word spread quickly.  This is what Disneyland looked like the following Saturday, the 16th.  Park attendance (82,516) set a one-day record that stood for years and years.

As for the question in our title, that chamber has no windows and no doors.  Either the Mansion had two official grand openings (which is nuts), or it had one official opening and one unofficial "soft opening" to the public, except that the soft opening was announced in the newspapers, which makes it, um, official, doesn't it?  An advertised soft opening—yeah, that's also nuts.  Aieeee, I've got me some cognitive dissonance going on here.  I too feel the disturbance in the Force, but I cannot help you.  You'll just have to decide which absurdity is the less intolerable, pick up the shattered pieces of your life, and move on. In truth, the fact that the Haunted Mansion had a debut that defiantly and definitely defies all definition only makes it more fun.

Originally Posted: Thursday, July 1, 2010 Original Link: [x]

[ofroseandrock-blog]

7-15-17

The lack of electricity has gotten worse – we are now down to about 2 hours per day, sporadically, and usually in the middle of the night which means people have to either miss out on using it to charge phones, wash the laundry or shower, or be ready to spring from sleep once it goes on and get the chores done. The heat and humidity are oppressive. People cannot save leftovers or keep produce and meat to plan for meals as it will spoil quickly in impotent refrigerators. This means any leftover food must be given away or go to waste. Any produce my family gathers from their farm must be eaten; and of course, there are more peaches, apples, peppers,cucumbers and tomatoes than can be eaten by the family before spoiling in this heat. No electricity often means no internet access, preventing many from being productive and efficient in their work, or even keeping connected with happenings in the world, politics, and relatives living outside of Gaza. Many people use batteries as back up to power small lights and charge phones when the electricity is out, however the increasing gap between working electricity is not enough to charge the batteries to run for 22 hours. The heat is intolerable – a pregnant friend told me she has taken to sleeping on the tile floor because it is cooler than in the bed at night, and her children also. There is no relief from the heat, unless you are lucky enough to have a car with A/C. In my whole life I have never slept without a blanket or sheet to cover me, even in the worst humidity in New England summers or living in Thailand. I always had at least a fan to provide some moving air. Since I arrived in Gaza 2 weeks ago, I haven’t slept a single night with cover. I lie on my back (also not my natural sleeping position – I’ve always slept in the fetal position) without any cover and barely move in my sleep. One is sweating, constantly, and tired. It is difficult to focus on getting work done, or much else for that matter, because of the discomfort of the heat, nevermind the lack of electricity and internet. The situation is unacceptable because it is unnecessary. The triangle of internal political divisions of the Palestinian ruling parties – Fatah in the WB and Hamas in Gaza, Israel, and Egypt are playing a perpetual game of tug-of-war and the people of Gaza are continuously caught in the middle and suffer from chronic suffering. Fatah (the Palestinian National Authority) refuses to pay Israel for Gaza’s electricity in order to pressure Hamas; Israel refuses to provide the electricity to Gaza thought they have the capability to and a responsibility to Gaza as its occupier; and Egypt, despite sending some relief in the form of extra fuel to run Gaza’s damaged power plant, continues to maintain a hard close on its border with Gaza – an act that has crippled an already broken economy and made travel outside of Gaza for the average Palestinian virtually impossible until it reopens. There is no excuse for the world’s lack of intervention, for the complicity of the most powerful governments in the world such as the UK and the US in supporting this suffering.

The pregnant friend I mentioned earlier, Nuhal – Issra and I visited her home today for lunch in Beit Hanoun area in northern Gaza. After a beautiful meal (which also has to be planned around the electricity – which one cannot plan for because it does not work according to any schedule), we brought chairs up to the roof of her building to escape the heat in her home. It was still hot up there, but at least there was a slight breeze and shade to one side beneath a tall (name?) tree. As we sat and sipped Turkish coffee, Nuhal pointed over the edge of the building where the tree grew, an area of dirt and dead grass littered with trash between her building and the next. She explained how she and her husband used to have lemon and olive trees there that they’d planted, but in the last war Israel had targeted much of the farm land and destroyed future harvests. They had considered replanting, she said, but were worried about the effects of the trash that now covered the land and residual chemicals from bombing. She told me the story of how the side of their home was hit by the bomb, when she was 9 months pregnant with her second child. Her first daughter was 3 at the time, sleeping in her bedroom which was on the side of the building that was hit. She rushed in to find her covered in rubble from the ceiling, but luckily she had been wrapped in a blanket which had protected her from serious injury. “I hated that summer”, she recalled with a distant look in her eye. Her mother’s building had been covered with white phosphorous and she had developed brain cancer not long after. She ended up dying shortly after diagnosis.

“People here always seem happy and resilient,” she told me, “but it’s not resilience. They have no other option but to smile and laugh and go on. But everyone here is suffering underneath the smiles. No one forgets these experiences. I will never forget them.” As she falls quiet, I look off into the distant, hazy humid sky over the sun-washed sand colored rooftops… I notice a strange object that seems to be hovering, still in the sky – like a big white balloon. I ask Nuhal about it, and she explains it is an Israeli surveillance balloon, as matter of fact as if she’s telling me the name of a planet in the night sky. Just another piece of the horizon.

*Names have been changed to protect the privacy of the individuals mentioned in the post.

[colorofyourhair]

An Absence of Balls

Prompt:

Prompt Rating: T

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Erza lifted her arm above her head and checked the patch of skin underneath for smoothness a final time. Her wrist bumped the toothbrush handle poking out of her mouth and the plastic head knocked against her teeth. In the rush to be sure her legs and arms were smooth – in hindsight the knee length, sleeveless dress may have been too ambitious – she'd forgotten to finish brushing her teeth. Erza ran the brush over the top and bottom rows twice as she rinsed the soap from her body and spit the toothpaste into the water rushing down the shower drain.

Her fingers found no purchase on the towel rack and a quick peek from behind the shower curtain revealed she'd forgotten to grab a towel. Erza sighed laboriously and turned the water off. Better to accept the chilled air all at once than suffer as the steam slowly dissipated. She flung the shower curtain back and stepped onto the plush rug. It was three steps from the rug to the linen closet and she thought, if she hurried, she could make it there and back with minimal dripping.

Before she could take a single step, though, Erza's eyes climbed the opposite wall up to the pair of rectangular hopper windows. She scowled. The black cat had returned and he was staring down at her from the other side of the glass. Erza didn't know how the intruder managed to perch on such a small ledge. Her hands came up to cover her chest indignantly. The cat didn't even blink. Still scowling, Erza whirled around and made a dash for the linen closet but by the time she'd wrapped a towel around herself, the cat was gone.

As she smoothed the front of her dress, she decided the extra time investment to shave had been worth it. Erza – somewhat vainly, perhaps – fluffed her hair, and smiled at herself one last time. Kagura would accuse her of blowing a simple business meeting out of proportion but not everyone could just roll out of bed perfectly coiffed. Unlike her best friend, Erza, in her own opinion, required effort. And, in her opinion, such efforts should be appreciated.

She saved her shoes for last and slid her feet into the heels just before grabbing her bag. The morning air greeted her in a rush and Erza took a deep, satisfied breath. Today would be perfect. Well, almost perfect. Between her and her car, sat the black cat. He stared at her, and she stared right back at him. The hair on her arms ruffled and Erza bit her lip. Surely the creature wouldn't be so bold as to attack her... right? She took one step toward the car and he eased forward into a seemingly casual cat-loaf.

“What do you want from me?” she whispered. “You've already seen me naked. I have nothing else to give you!”

Suddenly, the cat's ears twitched and his eyes flit from Erza to somewhere behind her. Without warning he darted from her path and across the yard. She spun around to follow him with her eyes and frowned. Any semblance of intimidating peeping tom was gone as the cat walked in figure-eights around her new neighbor's ankles. His tail curled around the man's calves and Erza swore she could hear the beast actually purring from a yard and a half away. The man crouched down and pulled bits of something from the pocket of his sweat pants. He smiled as the cat delicately took the bits right from his fingers.

Erza jumped when her phone blared. Her neighbor's gaze flew from the cat to her. As the phone in her bag continued to screech an embarrassing ringtone, Erza spun around and dashed to her car without even trying to dig the phone out. She'd have to call Kagura back because there was no way she'd stick around to take a call in her driver's seat with both the offending cat and her neighbor watching.

Kagura wrinkled her nose at the sun-faded cushions on the patio chairs before primly taking a seat. Erza practically fell into her chair. She couldn't be bothered by a few stray leaves when everything about their meeting had gone as well as it possibly could. Not even the lunch menu held her attention. Kagura sighed and ordered for them both.

“You're vibrating, Erza,” she muttered when their waiter disappeared to fetch drinks. “It's exhausting me.”

“I'm not sorry. Today was amazing!”

“It was expected.”

“I don't know, I felt like they could've gone either way.”

Kagura's eyebrow twitched. “You're kidding right? They loved you. Especially the bride. I think she'd have left that idiot she's marrying for the right cake.” She tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the glass tabletop. “She'd be better off.”

“You're such a misandrist,” Erza chided with a grin.

“That's not true.” Kagura smirked and sat straighter when their drinks were placed on fresh napkins. “Your neighbor is frustratingly attractive.”

Erza's lip curled. “Finding a man attractive doesn't mean you aren't a hater. Anyway, I don't want to talk about him.”

“Why? Did something happen? Something scandalous, maybe?” Kagura grinned wickedly.

“What? No! I don't even know his name!”

“His last name is Fernandes.”

Erza blinked. “How do you know that?”

“Simon told me.” Kagura hesitated and eyed Erza carefully. “The number fifteen fire station threw a retirement party for their Captain. Simon was there with a couple of other police officers and apparently this Fernandes guy is a recent transfer.”

“I see.” Erza rearranged her silverware quietly.

“I'm sorry for bringing him up.” Kagura said softly.

“It's fine. He's your brother and it's going to happen from time to time.”

“For the record, I'm on your side. Your relationship with him was toxic. He'll get over it.”

“You're a good friend, Kagura.”

“The best, actually.”

The waiter returned with their lunch orders and quickly bowed away. Erza picked all the chicken pieces from her salad and ate them separately. Mixing textures was intolerable. Kagura, wisely, did not comment. She'd grown used to Erza's quirks over the years. Once her plate was free of meat she began to, more leisurely, eat the vegetables.

“A cat saw me naked this morning,” she said offhandedly.

“I – what?” Kagura stopped with her fork midway to her mouth. “A cat... saw you naked?”

“He was watching me get out of the shower from those horrible windows in my bathroom.”

“Why haven't you put shades over those yet? How long have you lived in that house?”

“I don't know, a few years? Anyway, it made me feel dirty.”

“Well, now you have an incentive to cover the windows.”

“It got weirder, too. On my way out, this stalker was sitting on my car like he owned it.”

“He has seen you naked. Maybe he thinks you're together now?”

“Why are you like this?” Erza asked dryly, shaking her head. “He ended up taking off to hang out with my neighbor, and get this,” She leaned forward over her plate. “He actually ate from this guy's hand! I didn't even know cats did that kind of thing but there he was, munching pieces of whatever like he hadn't been peeping on me in the shower a half hour before.”

“So let me see if I have this right,” Kagura stirred the ice in her glass while eyeing Erza skeptically. “A stray cat is spying on you in the bathroom and seems to be in thrall of your neighbor?”

“Thrall is a weird word choice, but yes.”

Kagura set aside her fork and dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “Is this the same stray who hissed at me from your flower bed that one time? Because I think that animal is either rabid or possessed.”

“Same cat,” Erza muttered.

“Maybe your neighbor is a witch and the cat is his familiar.”

“He's not a witch.” Erza shifted uncomfortably in the booth across from Kagura. “I don't think men can be witches anyway.”

“Sure they can,” Kagura said dismissively, tossing her glossy black hair over her shoulder. “Though I will say he has poor taste in familiars. That cat is disgusting.”

“This conversation is ridiculous.”

“Why? I think it's perfectly reasonable to assume he's dabbling in dark magic. I'm not interested in men at all and I find him disgustingly attractive.”

“You just like pretty things, and anyway the cat predates him. He can't be a familiar if he was around before my neighbor even moved in.”

“Maybe the cat was a scout.” Erza pursed her lips and Kagura laughed. “Alright, alright. So the guy is nice to strays. You should talk to him if he's truly a pussy whisperer.”

Erza choked on her iced tea and swiped at her watering eyes with a napkin. “Jesus, Kagura, you're so gross sometimes.”

“I'm just saying. You need to get laid.” Kagura shrugged as if the comment weren't anything but the absolute truth.

Erza tossed her phone to the couch cushions and dashed to the stove. The stench of burning syrup filled the kitchen and her smoke alarm began to go off in loud peals. She pulled an insulated glove from a drawer, grabbed the burning saucepan, and tried to avoid breathing in too much of the smoke as she ran out onto the front porch. The sound of the smoke alarm spilled into the street as she left the small pot on the brick railing.

“Hey, are you okay?” Erza turned to find her neighbor at her side. He touched her elbow and regarded her with concern.

“I'm fine,” she managed to say. “I just got distracted and forgot about the sugar.”

“Sugar?” he asked with one raised eyebrow.

“Syrup. I was making simple syrup on the stove.” Erza's face felt ridiculously warm.

“Where's your smoke alarm? I'll turn it off for you.”

“Uh –” Erza blinked rapidly. “It's in the hall just past the kitchen.”

“Got it.”

She watched him disappear into her house and wondered where he thought she might wander off to. Erza's eyes fell to the saucepan of ruined sugar. The bottom was black and she thought she might be better off simply buying a new one. She didn't notice the alarm had stopped until he rejoined her on the porch.

“That's quite a bit of smoke for what you've got there.”

“Sugar is tricky.” Erza turned to him and tucked the strands of her falling bun behind her ear. “Sorry for the trouble. I was on the phone with my business partner and forgot about the stove. I do actually know better.”

“It's no trouble at all.” He said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I do this for a living. Uh –” He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled awkwardly. “Not the approaching women in their front yard and dashing into their house part.”

“I got that,” she said, smiling. “You're a firefighter.” His eyebrows flew up and Erza's blush deepened. She didn't want to admit to any conversations about him. Her eyes bounced around the porch and finally landed on the logo of his t-shirt. She pointed at it with a grin she hoped passed as anything other than sheepish. “Your shirt. Firehouse Fifteen, right? It's just up the road.”

“Actually –” His mouth crept into a grin. “This shirt came from my old station.”

“Oh.” The word came out in an embarrassed breath. She bit her lip and glanced down at the burned pot between them. “So, okay. My best friend's brother is a cop. He was at that retirement party you went to. She knows you're my neighbor and I promise I wasn't stalking you, because I know what that's like and I don't want you to feel naked.”

“Naked?”

Erza groaned. She had a tendency to babble when nervous or embarrassed – or both. “Your cat saw me naked,” she blurted.

“I... don't have a cat.” His grin widened and Erza huffed. She knew it wasn't his cat.

“I mean the stray. He's very rude.”

“I see.” Just on the edge of her view of the blackened saucepan she saw his hands disappear into his pockets. “I'm Jellal, by the way,” he said with humor. “But I think you knew that already.”

“I did,” she whispered. When she looked back up at him, she saw his smile was still in tact. His relaxed stance eased her tension. “I'm Erza, and despite this situation I'm actually very good in the kitchen.”

“I know.” He ducked his head in pseudo-shame. “Your shop made my sister's wedding cake last year.”

“Oh!” This time the word came out with surprise.

“The cake was great, but it was your hair that I remembered.”

Erza flushed for the third time but couldn't help smiling. “Well, it is pretty red.”

“Red isn't really a good enough word,” he murmured.

“Maybe scarlet?” she teased. “That's my last name.”

“Lucky coincidence.” With what seemed like impulse, he reached out to touch one of the falling strands brushing her shoulder.

“I was just about to start dinner,” Erza said softly. “You can join me if you want. I promise I won't burn it.”

“I'd love to.” His full smile made her knees weak. Erza turned and nodded toward her front door. He followed her into the house but glanced back just before stepping through the door. The black cat was perched on the far corner of the brick rail watching them both with slitted eyes.

“I told you he was stalking me,” she said, pursing her lips.

“She.”

“Excuse me?”

“The cat. It's a female.” Erza turned to him in surprise.

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.” He placed his hand on the small of her back as they entered the house.

“How do you know that?”

“Well,” Jellal coughed awkwardly and busied himself with opening her backdoor and kitchen windows to air out the smell of smoke. “She doesn't have any balls.”

“She seems to enjoy spying on my shower time. I'd say that takes balls.” Erza snorted and decided to keep the pussy whisperer comments to herself.