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Homesick | C. Sturniolo

TW: weed/drugs mention

AN: first sturniolo fic — also don’t do drugs, smoke a joint (pack a bowl, rip a bong, eat an edible idc!) where/when legal and enjoy.

WC: 935

Pairing: Chris x Reader

“Stay in Boston.” Chris read with confusion from a crumpled note he found in his newly thrifted hoodie pocket. He didn’t think much of it, just some trash left by an artist in Los Angeles. Whether it was a photographer, videographer, songwriter, or maybe a failed sketch was anyone’s guess.

What he wasn’t aware of was the treacherous journey that hoodie had taken to get to him and its ties to the city he called home. The hoodie had gone through a family vacation, a boy’s high school career, moving into a college dorm, a relationship, many italian ice date nights, and a breakup. The hoodie signified an era of someone’s life; the same tagline as everything else you lay your eyes on at a thrift store.

He thought about everything he had ever known as the items were piling up in his newly found second hand collection. Donating his skates when he was 13, his mother cleaning out the garage of all their holiday things, and even down to his brothers piling clothes on the bed to list for sale online. He didn’t own much, just enough to keep him out of trouble, so the thought of someone having enough to give away was enough to make his head spin.

He kept the paper regardless of whether it was trash or not. Chris adored Boston and only associated positive memories with it. Fenway Park, Gillette Stadium and TD Garden were his go to places to hang with his friends, brothers, or even alone. He remembers frantically Googling ‘free things to do in Boston’ before dates and eventually dipping into his wallet after he couldn’t find anything good with pride. He was someone who would do anything to make anyone happy, whatever the cost, but he couldn’t apply that theory to himself.

When all was done and dusted for the day he decided to shut himself in his room and unwind. He ran his fingers down the spines of the books you gave him, reading the titles to himself, hearing your voice with each syllable. Empty promises of going to visit him came flooding back into his memory as soon as he saw your favorite book; tattered edges, taped spine, and a receipt paper bookmark. He shook himself out of it and went to his desk to pack a bowl.

With a swift flick of the lighter Chris pressed the glass to his lips and inhaled for a moment feeling the weight of the world lift off of his shoulders. He sat in his computer chair and looked around his room for signs of you - something, anything. He repeated the motion a few times and grabbed the torn piece of paper from his thrifting excursion.

“Stay in Boston.” Chris repeated to himself countless times before grabbing his phone. He knew your number by heart and as soon as he hit the call button an all-too-familiar ache came over him. He took another hit and exhaled when he heard your voicemail message play. He never thought he’d be here; alone, in his room, pining after a love lost.”

“Hey, it’s Chris…” he started. “I wish you were here. I’ve said it every day to myself while I’ve been out here. I know neither of us wanted this… I don’t think either of us knew what we wanted. I’ve been getting by on memories of stumbling to diners and stealing the mugs or skipping classes to go hang out at the park…” he took another hit and sighed. “What I’m trying to say is my heart will always have a space for you, my brain has always had one.”

You looked at your phone to see another voicemail from Chris. You shrugged it off thinking it was most likely another message he recorded at a party where he would preface it with whatever drug he was taking at the time; the west coast ruined him. As much as you hated to admit it you kept up with their videos and you locked in on Chris looking more gaunt every time.

You hadn’t answered a call from Chris in months and you never reached back out. You listened to his newest voice message as you recanted the first call since the split. He had just done a few lines of cocaine and he described it as feeling a sense of finally being able to focus to a greater extent. It shook you to your core that a once happy-go-lucky boy turned into… this. You couldn’t even begin to describe what you were feeling.

Chris often called to describe his high to you; cocaine, ayahuasca, benzos, acid, angel dust, salvia - the list went on. You were still his safe space and since he drew the conclusion you weren’t even listening to them he let his troubles go in the safe space of voicemails and dial tones.

Chris clutched the “Stay in Boston” note and thought about what it meant to the previous owner of the hoodie. Chris also thought about why this would fall into his lap and when it did. He slowly fell back into his nightly routine while he continued to contemplate that random piece of paper.

After a night of continuing keeping up his high, losing games, and melting his brain over three words Chris decided to head to bed. The second he was in bed it’s as if on cue he saw your name flash across his screen. It knocked his next breath out of him as he answered with a simple “Hello?”

“Chris…” you said followed by a shaky exhalation. “Please stay in Boston.”

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The Shop in the Emerald City

Glinda Upland is celebrating her one year anniversary at Diggs's Dress Salon, and secretly excited by the new pen pal she is writing to about sorcery, when an unusual girl walks into the store and asks Mr. Diggs for a job. Inspired by The Shop Around the Corner (1940)

Rating: G

Word Count: 5,017

Shoutout to @localgaysian for reading this too, and always encouraging me

Read on Ao3

With a deep bong, bong, bong, the clock in Mr. Diggs's office struck the hour. Eight o’clock, time to open the store. Glinda and Mr. Diggs walked out onto the floor, passing racks of rolled up fabric waiting for custom orders while pre-made dresses hung brightly towards the front of the store. The accessories they offered–hats ranging from wide-brimmed monstrosities to the tiny pill box style that had to be pinned in place, gloves of silk and lace, select pieces of jewelry that Glinda had convinced Mr. Diggs to add to their stock as a necklace could really complete a look–were arranged under and behind the glass sales counter.

Glinda had a good feeling about the day. It was her one year anniversary at Diggs's Dress Salon, and Mr. Diggs had just announced that she was the store’s top saleswoman. She could be considered for a promotion soon, if she kept it up. Selling dresses and other items of beautification came naturally to Glinda, as she had spent her entire life conscious of her appearance, picking just the right colors, materials, and level of extravagation for every occasion. 

Selling dresses, though, was not her real passion. Not that she would ever reveal that to Mr. Diggs, or any of her colleagues. She had revealed her real passion to only one person: a new pen pal she had picked out from the classifieds in Oz Weekly. She hadn’t been looking for a pen pal. Glinda wrote letters to her family, updating them whenever she won an invitation to a party with the biggest names in the city–the Emerald City, it still thrilled her to be building her life at the center of Ozian society–or if there was a particularly notable customer at the shop, but otherwise she didn’t like to pour her heart onto the page or anything like that. But there was a word in that ad that drew Glinda in, and she had sent a letter the very next day: sorcery.

No time to ruminate on sorcery now though, the shop doors were unlocked and customers were starting to trickle in. 

An hour later, as Glinda led a middle aged woman with, as Mr. Diggs would say, a unique look through the racks of dresses–this woman was impossible to please–a young woman about Glinda’s age pushed open the door. The first thing Glinda noticed was that her skin was green. Based on the glances of other customers, they noticed this too, but as there was so much in the Emerald City that people hadn’t seen before, and so much green, they took her in, and went back to shopping. Glinda, however, continued to stare. The girl wore a black dress with tight sleeves that made way for voluminous, pointed shoulders, like two ravens keeping her company. It was so hideodeous Glinda couldn’t look away. Her face was quite pretty, if set in a serious expression. Glinda decided, if only she dressed differently, she’d be stunning. Perhaps that was why she had come into the shop. 

The girl walked over to Mr. Diggs, who stood behind the counter. The owner had such taste, and was a wizard at designing, but recently had been very caught up in the store’s financials. From her position by a rack, Glinda swore she overheard the girl ask Mr. Diggs if there were any available positions at the store. Really! A girl dressed like that, working in Diggs's Dress Salon. The very idea! Surely he wouldn’t hire her. He had Glinda already, and Fiyero, who could sway just about anyone to his ideas.

Suddenly, the girl appeared in front of her, interrupting her train of thought, flipping through the dresses,so fast that she could not possibly be giving each one any consideration. Maybe Glinda could help; she really did need some fashion advice.

“Excuse me–”

“Miss…Miss, what is your name?” Before Glinda could inquire if she could assist this girl–and make a sale, but really, it wasn’t about that–the woman next to her interrupted. “Do you know if this store carries anything like the dress you’re wearing? It is so striking!”

A trickle of cold ran down Glinda’s spine. What in Oz?

“Elphaba, my name is Elphaba,” the other girl replied. Elphaba. Glinda felt her face flush. Why was Miss Elphaba in her store, ruining her good day?

Elphaba stopped her search. “Here, Ma’am, what about this one? I assure you this lace at the top will…bring out…your eyes?” Judging by her halting speech, Elphaba had no experience in sales, and she had pulled out the most disgustifying dress in the store: black, of course, covered in curls of lace against a diamond pattern set asymmetrically across the bodice.

“Oh! Certainly!” the older woman replied, picking up the dress and looking at Elphaba with appreciation. “That’s just the thing!”

Where was the woman going to wear that dress, a funeral for a circus clown?

“Excellent choice. Let me walk you to the counter.”

Then that girl, Elphaba, walked away, guiding Glinda’s customer directly to Mr. Diggs. Glinda’s customer. That was supposed to be her up there, celebrating how good she was at this job, how close she was to promotion.

The ringing in her ears subsided just in time to hear Mr. Diggs say, “That was fantastic! I’d love to have you start as soon as tomorrow.”

The rest of that day passed by in a blur. 

The next morning, as she stood in front of the store waiting for Mr. Diggs to arrive with the key, Glinda’s stomach turned when she looked up from her fashion magazine and saw Elphaba walking up. Of course she was punctual; she had to make up for her terrible fashion sense somehow. The dress Elphaba wore was not any better than the one from the day before. 

Glinda was dressed in her signature pink, as she always was, a tasteful v-neck dress in satin with a full skirt. She had loved how it looked when she twirled in the mirror. Not that she would be twirling today.

Glinda had already brushed off the shop errand boy Master Biq–or was it Boq, she could never remember–sending him to pick up a pastry for her since she’d skipped breakfast. It was always the last thing in her morning routine, and thus, the one most often dropped when she was in a rush. Elphaba, with her simple braid and natural face, deep green eyes behind big round glasses, probably never had to worry about saving time to eat. 

“Good morning,” the other girl offered with a smile. “I’m Elphaba. Mr. Diggs hired me yesterday.”

Be welcoming, Glinda told herself. That’s what a future store manager would do. But Elphaba’s nearness was making the back of Glinda’s neck tingle, and what about what she had done yesterday, stealing Glinda’s customer right from under her?

“Oh, I know. I saw you,” was Glinda’s short reply. She tried to keep her tone neutral, but her irritation was probably apparent.

“And you are?” Elphaba was still looking at her expectantly. Couldn’t she take a hint? The tingle from the back of Glinda’s neck spread down her arms. She smoothed the magazine in her hand before answering.

“Glinda Upland. Of the upper Uplands,” she said. “Yesterday was the one year anniversary of my first day at Mr. Digg’s Dress Salon.”

Maybe that would help Elphaba recognize the error in how she had behaved.

“Oh, a year!” Elphaba enthused. “Congratulotions. Maybe you can help me learn the ropes. As you can probably tell, I don’t really know much about clothes.” Elphaba let out a little laugh. It was a pleasant sound. But to weasel her way into this job, when she had no interest in the business, it just wasn’t right. “I’m sure you know how hard it can be to get by in this city.” 

“Hm,” Glinda huffed. She supposed she did know, but she wasn’t going to tell Elphaba that.

Mr. Diggs arrived just then, thank Oz. Time to start work.

Once customers were buzzing around the bright racks exploding with tulle, satin, and sequins, some standing in the back taking measurements, still others checking how a hat might sit atop their head–one wide brim engulfed a woman’s small frame–Glinda breathed easier. She knew how to select the best looking items, how to talk up a customer as they looked in the mirror, and how to tactfully deliver the sale to Mr. Diggs and soak up her moment of success. 

If only Elphaba wasn’t here. Elphaba approached her a few times with questions about fabrics, cuts, and pairing jewelry, which Glinda answered, of course, but usually to the customer Elphaba was helping. It was just more efficient that way. And if she took credit for the sale, who could blame her? She was the one with the knowledge in this business. 

Customers still seemed drawn to Elphaba, especially if they came in looking for something a little bit more unusual. Every time Glinda saw Elphaba at the counter, she was always selling a dress that Glinda would have skipped over. Not that she was watching the other girl, but she couldn’t help but see her. The store wasn’t that large.

“Mr. Diggs, what convinced you to hire this Elphaba girl? She just doesn’t…well she doesn’t know anything about fashion,” Glinda cornered him in his office at the end of the day.

“Glinda, my dear,” he soothed. “I know she isn’t the person you’d expect to see in the store, but that’s just why I think we need her. The dress she sold yesterday was two seasons out of date and I was nearly writing it off as a loss before she came in. Same thing today. She’s actually quite good for business, so try to find it in you to be nice to her. Or at least leave her alone.”

Glinda huffed. Leave her alone? Maybe she could if Elphaba would stop talking to her. 

“Okay. I will do my best, Mr. Diggs.” She plastered on a smile. “For you, I’ll try to ignore her.”

Nestled into a big, pink, velvet chair in her flat that evening, cup of tea in hand, Glinda held the letter she had picked up from her post box on the way home. Her heart ticked a bit faster as she unsealed the envelope, anticipating the reply from her magical pen pal. The ad had asked to be anonymous and the mystery added to the excitement. Her eyes skipped over the page at first taking in phrases: able to control and levitate objects. Then she took a breath and read it from beginning to end.

Before she reached the bottom of the page, Glinda had goosebumps down her arms. Based on what Glinda knew about sorcery, the skill of levitation was quite advanced, and her pen pal had apparently developed it at a young age. This person–he, Glinda had decided her correspondent had to be a man–must be a powerful sorcerer. The thought thrilled her. 

She didn’t want to jump too far having only one letter from him, but she had already begun building a fantasy where she and this sorcerer fell in love, got married, and moved into a house with many closets. Glinda had gone on several dates in the past year, plenty of fancy dinners and big parties, but the men were always disappointing somehow. Their hands felt too rough on her shoulders, they tried to kiss her too soon, or when she did feel ready, and she did kiss them, the kisses felt mechanical and she itched for them to be over. With a man of magic though, the magical feeling she was supposed to feel would have to manifest. Magic did always light up her body like nothing else.

After a month at Diggs's Dress Salon, Elphaba was finally getting the hang of what was considered a party dress, a casual dress, a ball gown. She knew her fabrics. Usually she could even talk up details like embroidery or beading to convince a customer who was waffling. 

Elphaba had formed a fast friendship with Fiyero, a tall, handsome man who had a knack for saying just the right thing to everyone who walked through the door. She suspected that some customers came in just to spend some time with Fiyero, flirt and laugh, and he was happy to oblige them. He may not have made the most sales, but kept the mood of the store light and fun.

Glinda, on the other hand, was an effective saleswoman, knowledgeable, and always up on the most current trends. She was poised and energetic. Glinda was also undoubtedly the most beautiful woman Elphaba had ever seen: soft blonde curls, big brown eyes. If only she were nicer to Elphaba. She tried to learn from Glinda when she first came to the store, but Glinda had been determined to ignore her, except to butt in to correct something Elphaba said, like the skirt she had been calling knee length actually being below the knee. When Elphaba had argued that the length had to depend somewhat on how tall the person was, Glinda had insisted that there was a proper terminology to these things.

Mr. Diggs, for his part, was a creative man, an understanding boss, and always worrying about money. Elphaba could relate to that; it was why she had come to the dress shop seeking a job in the first place. What she hoped to do was save enough to study sorcery more seriously and find a way to make a difference in Oz. 

For years Elphaba had tried to hide her magic. Ever since she made a spoon fly at her nanny across the breakfast table, entirely by accident, her father had instructed her to control herself. Elphaba’s efforts only went so far. Her emotions seemed to snap something in the atmosphere, and objects always ended up in the air, then crashing back to earth. In Munchkinland, sorcery was seen as something ancient, and ancient history was left in the past. When Elphaba had arrived in the Emerald City, she had finally found reading material to help her understand how she could tap into herself, and focus that snap. Though it was all still theoretical.

At least now she had a friend who she could talk to about magic, even if it was only through anonymous letters. But her friend would only be anonymous for one more day. They had set a date to meet. At seven o’ clock the next day, Elphaba would walk into a little cafe wearing a silver starburst pin on her lapel and seek out her confidant who would be wearing the same.

Today, she just had to get through a few more hours. Then, tomorrow. 

As Elphaba was shelving endless boxes of sequins in the workshop closet, Glinda approached her. The tapping of her heels like a teacher’s yardstick on a desk made Elphaba’s scalp tingle. She was in trouble.

“Elphaba.”

“Yes, Glinda?” Elphaba exhaled.

“You know the display in the front window?” Glinda gestured back the way she had come. 

“I know the one.” Elphaba bit back a smile. Oh, this was no correction for misused fashion vocabulary. This Elphaba had done intentionally.

“Do you know why the mannequin is currently wearing a hideodeous tall, black, pointed hat?”

“I…don’t. I have no idea,” Elphaba lied. The smile escaped, and then a laugh.

“Elphaba! Please!” Glinda stared at her, seriously. “Think of the business!”

“I am. If I saw that hat, I might come into the store,” Elphaba argued. She had picked it because she knew Glinda would hate it, but it appealed to Elphaba. That part was true. She even thought about buying it from Mr. Diggs for her date–meeting–tomorrow. He had promised her a steep discount.

“Oh, it is your style, isn’t it,” Glinda conceded, surprising Elphaba. Then she continued. “Even so, I’m taking it down.” 

As she turned to leave, she muttered to herself, “When I’m a sorceress, I won’t be dealing with things like this.”

Elphaba’s face burned for a moment. Sorcery? 

“You…you practice sorcery?”

Glinda faltered, and spun back around. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean for you to–Well, I know it’s a bit unfashionable now, but yes. It is my dream. I once took a vial of sand and turned it into a little glass swan.” As Glinda said it, she curved her hand like she was gingerly holding the precious bird. 

Glinda paused, tilting her head like she was considering her story. 

“At least it was supposed to be a swan, and it does have wings, if you look at it from a certain angle. It was my first—You don’t want to hear this,” she cut herself off. 

Elphaba stared. She was too shocked to respond, but she did want to hear this. Glinda was interested in sorcery, dreamed to make it her life, could alter the appearance of things, or tried to. Just like the person she wrote letters to twice a week. 

It couldn’t be her. 

Cold anxiety trickled through Elphaba’s stomach, followed by a strange warmth. She would have called it hope if it was anyone but Glinda. She felt the snap. 

A box suddenly dropped from the shelf behind her, scattering sequins across the floor.

“Did you…” Glinda started to ask but let the question drop, as she watched Elphaba kneel down and start picking up the tiny shiny pieces. Glinda’s mouth was stuck open in a little o.

“I must have left that one hanging too far over the edge,” Elphaba was quick to explain. If Glinda was the person she had exchanged letters with, and, who was she kidding, it had to be her, Elphaba did not want her to start to suspect Elphaba was writing to her. First, she had to figure out what she was going to do.

Glinda walked away and Elphaba worked to slow her breathing. Moments later, Glinda reappeared with a broom.

“Elphaba, get up from there, just sweep them up.” She put her hand on Elphaba’s shoulder as she handed off the broom. “It’s not your fault.”

Elphaba’s shoulder felt warm. Glinda took a breath as if to ask a question, then turned instead.

“Now, I’m going to remove that hat, which is your fault.”

Elphaba laughed to herself. Maybe it could be Glinda.

As she considered the possibility, Elphaba did her best to avoid Glinda the rest of the day, and the beginning of the next. 

Elphaba was placing the pointed hat that had so offended Glinda into a hatbox the next time Glinda was able to get near enough to talk to her. Glinda had never made her nervous before, but this time, Elphaba had to steady her hands against the cool glass of the display case beneath her.

“What are you doing with that horrendible hat?” Glinda asked. “If it ends up back in the window–”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” Elphaba cut in. “I’m buying it myself, to wear on a date tonight.”

The idea of meeting Glinda at the cafe while wearing the hat so amused Elphaba that she had decided she would buy it after all. The look on Glinda’s face would be worth every cent.

Glinda pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. 

“I wouldn’t…recommend that,” was her controlled reply. She quickly moved on. “I have a date tonight too!” Glinda brightened as she began to talk about her own plans. “I think…” she covered her mouth and let out a small squeak of delight. “I think I might be meeting my husband tonight.” 

Husband? Elphaba flushed, turning the thought over in her mind that Glinda wanted to marry the person she was writing to. Of course, she would change her mind once she found out that person was Elphaba. Elphaba opened her mouth to set Glinda straight, but caught herself and closed it again before replying.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yes!” Glinda confirmed in an excited stage whisper, then continued embellishing, “And he is a very powerful man. A sorcerer!”

“A sorcerer?” Elphaba smiled and placed a hand on top of Glinda’s, which rested atop the counter. “Well, Glinda, I wish you good luck.”

Glinda set her other hand on top of Elphaba’s and squeezed. “Oh, thank you Elphie!”

Then Glinda breezed away. When had she become Elphie? She stroked the brim of the hat just to have something to do with her hands.

Scattered couples and groups sat around the cafe chatting, filling the air with a hum of activity. Glinda fiddled with the starburst pin on her collar, wiped at the condensation collecting on her glass of water, pulled out the last letter she had received from her pen pal, confirming their meeting, her nerves pinging wildly. She didn’t want him to see her like this. Smoothing her hair, and taking a deep breath, Glinda tried to settle.

A familiar voice cut through her anxious fidgeting. “Hello Glinda, what a coincidence.” 

Glinda looked up to see Elphaba standing behind the chair that was set out for her date. On top of her head was that hat, the pointed top threatening. Glinda had tried to change Elphaba’s mind about it, but Elphaba was stubborn.

“Hello, Elphaba,” Glinda said, tempted to tell Elphaba to move immediately, but deciding that would be too rude, especially after they had a moment of bonding at the store. Glinda would be nice, interested in what Elphaba was doing. “Are you here for your date too?”

“Yes!” Elphaba smiled, excitable in a way Glinda had not seen her before. Her green eyes were bright. She removed her hat and sat down in the chair across from Glinda. “Have you seen Fiyero, by chance? I’m supposed to be meeting him.”

“Oh, you…and Fiyero?” Glinda asked incredulously. It was only after the words spilled out that she realized her heart was racing and she was gripping the napkin in her lap a little too tightly and she may have been a bit rude after all.

Elphaba laughed. “We’re just friends, Glinda. Don’t look so shocked.”

“I’m not…I’m not shocked, just…” Glinda tried to explain, but she wasn’t sure what was making her face hot and her head reel. More importantly, Elphaba was sitting where her date was supposed to be. “Elphie, please, I’m waiting on someone.”

“Waiting for someone,” Elphaba corrected with a smirk.

“That isn’t my point.” The girl was impossible. “I need that chair. If he shows up and sees me sitting with a friend, he’ll think I changed my mind and I’ll lose my chance.”

“Are we friends?” Elphaba leaned in to ask in a low voice. Glinda noticed the freckles scattered across Elphaba’s cheekbones. The back of Glinda’s neck tingled. Why did it feel like Elphaba was asking something else?

“I guess we are,” Glinda managed to reply. “Now, please, go wait for Fiyero somewhere else.”

“Okay, I’m going,” Elphaba said, finally. She rose and touched Glinda’s arm. “Good night, Glinda.”

Something in her longed for Elphaba to sit back down. But soon her pen pal would appear and she would forget all about that.

An hour passed. She never saw Fiyero, and Elphaba had apparently left once their conversation ended. Glinda repeated her routine–fiddling, wiping, checking the letter, then smoothing her hair–until finally she decided that the sorcerer, or whoever the person was who wrote her all those passionate letters about the practice of magic, was not going to come. Blinking back tears, she stood up and left.

The next day, Glinda was not herself at work, disengaged and obviously depressed. Elphaba asked her about how the date had gone, and not wanting to reveal that it had not happened at all, Glinda lied and said it had been nice, leaving out any details she might have to remember later.

When she left work, Glinda ran straight to the post office, and, yes, there in her box was a letter from her pen pal. She didn’t wait to get home to read it. Glinda ripped it open right there in the tiled hallway where all the post boxes were tucked away. It confirmed her fears. She was going to have to talk to Elphaba about this, first thing tomorrow. At least her pen pal had offered another date, if she were inclined to accept.

Walking into work in the morning, Glinda worked to slow her racing thoughts. She couldn’t just confront Elphaba as soon as she saw her. If they argued in public, it could hurt her reputation as top salesperson. Plus, Elphaba was the only person at the store who knew she was interested in sorcery, and she wanted to keep it that way.

A few hours into the day, there was a lull in activity, so Mr. Diggs sent Elphaba back to the workshop to check that the shelves were stocked and organized. Glinda followed her, and before Elphaba could start moving boxes, she started in.

“Elphaba, do you know what you did to me the other night?” Glinda asked with obvious irritation.

Elphaba leaned back against the shelves, oddly calm, a small smile on her face. “I only sat down for a few minutes, what could I have done? And you told me the date went well.”

Glinda squeaked out a sound of indignation. “Okay, I lied. My date never showed up, because of you.”

“How do you know it was because of me?”

“Here, I’ll read you the letter.” She pulled it out from a hidden pocket on the side of her dress.

“Oh, I like that,” Elphaba pointed at Glinda’s pocket, then brought the finger up to her lips, still smiling. Elphaba’s coolness was pushing Glinda to the end of her rope. She could feel her heart picking up speed and her neck getting hot and it wouldn’t do to get angry at work.

“Elphaba! Listen.” Glinda started to read. “I saw you sitting there with your pin, a gorgeous girl with golden curls and an adorable smile,” Glinda nodded along with the description of herself. “And at the same time I noticed across from you another beautiful young woman with a striking black hat.” Elphaba laughed behind her hand and Glinda glared at her, continuing. “I didn’t want to interrupt because it seemed like there was something between you.” 

“Beautiful young woman,” Elphaba repeated back. “I think I like your pen pal.”

Elphaba was simply infurifying and clearly wasn’t going to apologize. “At least we have another date set for tonight, so you didn’t totally ruin it. Fine, go ahead and get back to your boxes.” 

“Fine.”

Elphaba turned back to the shelf. Then, before Elphaba had touched a thing, a hat box from high above shot out over Glinda’s head and clattered to the ground behind her. In its wake, Glinda was filled with a static tingle. It was the same feeling she had with Elphaba in this room before, when a box of sequins had suddenly jumped to the ground. Elphaba had made an excuse and Glinda had wanted to believe it was just an accident, but she had felt the charge in her body then too. Glinda’s anger was gone, replaced with an electric pull to Elphaba.

“You…you did that.” Glinda said, pointing at Elphaba’s back, afraid to touch her. “You do magic too?”

Elphaba turned back around slowly. “Yeah, I do.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Oh, Elphie, we could have shared ideas–”

“We have,” Elphaba interrupted. From the pocket of her structured black jacket, Elphaba pulled out a silver starburst pin. A pin that matched Glinda’s. 

All Glinda could do was breathe while she looked from the pin to Elphaba’s open face. Glinda’s stomach swooped as it all caught up to her. There had never been a sorcerer. There had always been Elphaba.

“Why didn’t you tell me that, Elphie!” Glinda reached out to take hold of one of Elphaba’s lapels and smooth over the fabric with her thumb. She regarded Elphaba again, her green eyes and freckles, soft looking lips. A beautiful young woman. Sure, Elphaba had written the words about herself, but Glinda thought they were true.

“When I realized it was you, I wasn’t sure what to think, after how things were between us when I first started here,” Elphaba replied in a soft, serious voice. Glinda’s stomach churned remembering how she had acted.

“I was pretty awful to you, wasn’t I?” Glinda responded, dropping her hand from Elphaba’s jacket. “I am sorry. I was–”

“You don’t have to explain,” Elphaba cut in. She took Glinda’s hand in hers and continued. “I went to the cafe that night ready to tell you, but after you had mentioned marriage, and this man you were going to meet, when you told me to leave, I left. I was only going to disappoint you.”

“No, Elphie, no!” Glinda insisted, squeezing Elphaba’s hand, wanting to pull closer. Glinda considered the idea. She had believed she would fall in love with the sorcerer from her letters, so now that the sorcerer turned out to be a woman–turned out to be Elphaba–she could still possibly fall in love, couldn’t she?

“You wouldn’t disappoint me, you don’t,” Glinda said, quieter, stepping closer, bringing her hand up to Elpaba’s face.

“Does this mean we’re getting married?” Elphaba joked, putting her other hand on Glinda’s waist. Her hand felt warm there. That magic electric static filled Glinda again.

“Just kiss me first,” Glinda said.

Elphaba responded by leaning in and meeting Glinda’s mouth with hers. Elphaba’s lips were soft, and felt so good against hers. Glinda hummed a high sound of pleasure. They broke apart, both smiling.

“It’s probably not a good idea to make out in the workshop,” Elphaba reasoned.

Glinda risked a quick peck before replying, “Okay. But we’ll keep that date, at the cafe tonight, won’t we?”

Elphaba nodded. “We will.”

[lovemeafterhrs]

idk if ur takin requests girl but i’m fr begging for any kuroo content like ur suna smoke fic i will pay good good dalla for that

my requests are currently closed but you’ve inspired me so i whipped up a little somethin’ just for you :P

“kuroo.. what the fuck.” you guffaw, making direct eye contact with the googly eyes attached to your roommate’s new six foot bong.

“got it on a sale, you like it?”

“i mean, yeah. but i’m not sure it’s the most practical.” you shrug, taking a closer look at the pools of color trapped inside the glass. “the eyes are a nice touch.”

“right? please tell me you have your grinder.”

“fuck. i’ll call kenma.” you frown, reaching for your phone in hopes of getting ahold of the grumpy blonde that’s currently in possession of the only thing you’re lacking.

after approximately seven calls between the two of you, kenma arrives at the apartment looking like he just crawled out of the trenches of hell.

the first thing that catches his eye is the comically large water pipe, standing tall above everyone in the room besides the rooster-headed man. soulless plastic eyeballs glare at him forebodingly as he takes a few steps towards the couch.

“you losers woke me up after my twelve hour shift for this?”

“well, yeah.” kuroo grins as he reaches for the sealed container.

“you still have my grinder.” you add, tone playful as you wrap your arm around kenma’s shoulders. he hands it over to you with a sigh, letting you lead him towards the couch.

“you left it at my house.” his reply earns an offended gasp from you, pretending his words aren’t completely true as you watch kuroo plop ice cubes down the neck of the bong.

both you and kenma have to stand on top of the couch cushions to even reach the mouthpiece, and each hit is a duel effort as the other lights the bowl from the floor.

kuroo finds it to be far too comical, until he tries to take a hit and it nearly fucking kills him. it doesn’t help that you’re kneeled on the floor in front of him, eyes glazed over as you watch him cough and die.

tetsurou learns far too quickly that his new purchase is more for decoration than practicality, and after a couple rounds around the circle he’s back to rolling joints at the kitchen table.

across from him, kenma’s barely paying attention to his friend’s babbling. he’s far more content silently playing video games on his switch while he waits for you to finally make something to eat, but he supposes it would be kinder to listen for once.

you however, have chosen to tune them out for the time being as you brown strips of chicken on the stovetop.

“it’s a waste of money.” you tune back in just in time to catch kozume’s snide remark, followed shortly by a loud, offended huff.

“it is not! fuck this, i’m trying it again.” just like that, kuroo’s jumping from his seat to prove him wrong. you hear the soft patter of kenma’s footsteps as he follows his friend to the living room, and you focus back in on the task at hand.

your moment of peace does not last for very long.

preparations for dinner are abruptly halted when you hear a loud crash followed by the sound of glass hitting the floor.

a loud screech fills your ears, and you turn the corner to find tetsurou hunched over in front of the remains of his shiny new piece. bong water coats the knees of his pants as he mourns, looking like a kicked puppy as he sniffles from the floor.

“dumbass.” kenma huffs, bowl piece still loaded in his hands as he shakes his head at his best friend.

[kerubimcrepin]

Episode 44 - My Papycha, the Secondhand Dealer (Part 1)

I'm very normal about this episode, but thankfully, all the writings to translate will probably distract me from the need to gush about Kerubim and Joris's love for one another.

The text on the left says "PAPYCHAT!". Usually, "!" means "M" in Amaknean, but I think Joris is just very enthusiastic.

The text on the right says "BROCANTE". It means "secondhand store". Also, there's a kama there. Cute :)

"HACHE" (axe) and "BONG" (??????????????????????????????????...probably onomatopoeia for the sound that contraption he drew makes.

Doesn't make Joris writing "bong" any less funny.)

A literal bear has entered a literal china shop. Warning, warning!

To my memory, this is one of the two times old Kerubim cries during the series, the first time being when he thinks Joris will be stuck for the rest of his life in the Heads for No Tails restraint.

I think he should be legally allowed to kill that pandawa guy.

I do think he loves them, but also, something tells me, a vase that took 20 years to make probably costs an amount of money that I don't even want to fucking imagine.

"VIEUX VASE" (old vase)

WHEN WILL JORIS'S REIGN OF EVIL END? Did he steal that piece?!

Though, it seems that even without it, the vase was still restored, — because, judging from all the cracks on it, the photo was taken after The Incident. I guess this story has a happy ending, despite the missing piece.

Photo of the clock: "REVEIL" (alarm, waking up) Bottle 1: "ELIXIR" Bottle 2: "BONBON" (candy) Bottle 3: "MIEL" (honey)

(the clock itself reads "5AM". Maybe Kerubim's alarm. I doubt he makes Joris, who isn't in education, wake up so early. Or maybe Joris wakes up at 5AM and then goes back to sleep. That would be the funnier possibility.)

This action will have consequences.

DO YOU SEE WHAT I TOLD YOU ABOUT JORIS AND HIS NEED FOR ROUTINES AND HATING BEING TOLD TO GO TO SLEEP?

It's obvious that Kerubim is just trying to get him to stop asking, Joris knows that, — and it's generally always why he's being asked to go to sleep early.

The text says: "PIERRE MAGI(Q)UE" (magic stone), with "Q" (::) being accidentally replaced by "N" (:)

Joris's guesses for this thing are: "Is this a ball?", "Is this a thing to do sport with to get muscles?", "Is this a geode?" and "Is this an egg?"

Truly, he is a dedicated thinker.

"VIDE GRENIER" (attic sale)

The first two vinyls say "GUST PRODUCTION" and "SADGUIRAM#2" respectively, while the third one says "ROMAIN".

The existence of vinyls also implies the existence of bands and their fans. We already know that, and all, but this still means a lot.

I wonder if slavery has always been a thing in the World of Twelve, or if it came back in style after centuries of being out of style only in Waven. Love their nonchalant response to it, too.

Chances are, this is just normal.

SEE WHAT I MEAN WHEN I TELL YOU JORIS IS A NIGHT OWL? He is NOT good at being awake early.

I also am beginning to suspect Kerubim is a morning person, unlike Joris. hdfkghsdgf.

Kerubim makes buying things a sort of a game for them to play together, to educate Joris on how to be a salesman in the future and continue their family business, but in the process pretty much hugs him and also look at Joris's face and then hand on shoulder car door man hook car and and um and [CAR CRASH] [GLASS SHATTERING] ‘GOOD LORD!’ [GENERAL COMMOTION] [BABY CRYING] ‘WAAAAH WAAAAH’ [YELLING] [POLICE SIRENS] WEEWOO WEEWOO [HELICOPTERS] ‘WE’RE REPORTING LIVE-‘ [EXPLOSION] ‘MY LEG… MY LEG…’

Yeah I'm okay./ (starts foaming.)

"LUIS"

Joris... I have some amazing news from the future. You'll never guess.

At heart, Kerubim is an optimist, and Joris is a pessimist, and they've always been that way, even as kids. I think it's cute that they both have these contrasting characteristics, and that they've had them their whole lives.

It makes them both really like each other, — but also, probably makes them annoy each other to death, across the 600 years of coexistence.

[audio-luddite]

Doing things the hard way.

I did a lap of the Audiomart and found an icon of turntable, errr craziness?

This is a Michell Transcriptor Transcriber.

This is a linear tracking turntable. Rather than move the tonearm across the record it moves the record under the tonearm. Pause and think about that.

Transcriptors are belt drive so this must move the platter and a motor and a sub-chassis on these rails.

I had a Transcriptor Skeleton TT for many years. It was a piece of kinetic art, but only a so so music player. That was due to the support of the LP which did not suppress plasticy vibration. This could not be better as it shares that. Add the extra bits and mechanicals and it must be worse.

Performance takes a back seat to weird design concept.

I recall the glass lid on mine made a bong sound if you tapped it and on mine the tone arm was not bolted to the glass lid. It is like at every step of the design process the worst possible method was chosen.

I remember reading about this when I was in school. My friend who had a Transcriptors and I both thought no they can't be serious.

It almost seems like this was a bet made in a pub. "Oh no you can't." "Oh yes I can!"

If you are a collector of hardware and have extra cash you need to spend here you go. It is on sale for $8000 CAD. A Google search turns up more some for over $12k USD.

[shopcrescentmoods]

Pretty glass rose pipes 🌹🏹 available on IG : shopcrescentmoodss 💌

[unbornwhiskeyy]

this is my favorite song on the record, and idk if i can write better lyrics than the ones i wrote for it:

then the sunlight frayed the maiden patch on your back our clothes smell like stale cigarettes and bong glass we'll never be able to find our way back it's like someone broke the woods and glued them back together wrong laid out in fractured patterns like a megadeth song we are lab rats in a labyrinth landmines in a landfill we figured out the ending about twenty minutes in every time we resisted it was all part of the plan the sound of sawdust in the engine i had a dream where you're not around the cat turned red and the house burned down picture was off-sync with the sound nothing awaits us in the ground years after the blackout we wake up by ourselves our shadows move away til they belong to something else weightless and shapeless as the self when the tv static started to reverse from the flames we realized we were acting and the whole world was a stage broadcast with a ten-second delay and now we're only flashbacks in the sequel to the dream floating in the reeds, on sale at spirit halloween we gleam like the camera lens in the trees the trees, they yawn forever on they’re everywhere and causing pointless introspection neverending like a drone the world, it ripples from the impact of the concussion if there’s a heaven it’s located in hell love is a story i keep telling myself

[thearachive]

❝ the days go round and round ჼ all the things i want to figure out remain. ჼ (this isn't love, it isn't right?)

≻────  𝒔 𝒑 𝒐 𝒏 𝒔 𝒐 𝒓 𝒔 .

⧼  . 𝑦𝑜𝑚𝑖 .  ⧽

• ‎‎‎‎ ❛ meromi hair ❜  @ the warehouse sale .

⧼  . 𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑘𝑎 .  ⧽

• ‎‎‎‎ ❛ himitsu shirt ❜ @ the warehouse sale .

⧼  . 𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑙𝑒 .  ⧽

• ‎‎‎‎ ❛ edith boots ❜  @ the warehouse sale .

≻────  𝒄 𝒓 𝒆 𝒅 𝒊 𝒕 𝒔 .

· · · 𝘨 𝘦 𝘯 𝘦 𝘵 𝘪 𝘤 𝘴 .

head - ceylon 4.0  @ lelutka .

lashes - ‘flutter’ @ void .

body - ‘ebody reborn’ @ reborn store .

· · · 𝘤 𝘰 𝘴 𝘮 𝘦 𝘵 𝘪 𝘤 𝘴 .

eyeliner - ‘the hunt’ @ platinum .

eyeshadow - ‘solara’ @ reverie .

· · · 𝘢 𝘤 𝘤 𝘦 𝘴 𝘴 𝘰 𝘳 𝘪 𝘦 𝘴 .

tag - ‘baby tags’ @ bana .

glasses - ‘shy glasses’ @ mio .

tears - ‘constella’ @ kitcat .

drink - ‘vamp juice’ @ emotional circus .

· · · 𝘴 𝘦 𝘵 .

set pieces:

'look to the sky' / 'cherish' / 'need that' / 'into the dream' @ haikei .

'classically neon' @ james & dew / equal10 .

'natural habitat 3' @ dust bunny .

'favorite sweater clutter' @ half-deer .

'tofu' @ black nest / c88 .

'heartcore bong' @ cannabliss .

[gosensi]

Gosensi -Best glass bongs for sale online in Usa,

Gosensi -Best glass bongs for sale online in the USA,

Ultimately the shape, size, and height of a glass bong impact its ability to pull smoke through the water chamber and into the tube. Moreover, the diameter of the bowl and stem also dictates the flow of smoke and air. Some popular types of glass bongs include:

Percolator Bong: A percolator bong uses a glass filter suspended in the water chamber. The filter is responsible for breaking up and spreading out the bubbles evenly by ensuring the smoke is circulated through the water. The result is the creation of tiny bubbles, which are excellent at filtering toxic substances while also cooling the smoke.

Bubbler Bongs: This glass weed bong is a bong and pipe hybrid. It is a portable option that is horizontal. It includes a drop-down water chamber that cools and filters the smoke. When using a bubbler, be careful not to pull too hard, or else you will swallow the water.

Mini Bongs: When you want cheap bongs, the portable mini bong is probably the right option for you. You can find minis that are just six inches in height, and several are available for under $60. Most mini bongs rely on a carb system. Due to the lower price, they tend to be made from thinner glass, which is easier to break.

Scientific Bongs: This is the name given to laboratory-grade borosilicate glass bongs. These are more expensive devices because they are stronger with increased resistance to heat. The design can range from a simple straight tube to a complex bong with ash catchers, uniquely crafted percolators, and bent mouthpieces.

Who Would Want a Glass Bong?

In general, bongs are for serious weed users because they are larger and more expensive than other smoking devices. Collectors are often willing to pay good money for uniquely designed pieces. An example is any bong produced by the legendary JP Toro.

Some users believe their bong choice is a reflection of their personality. As a result, selecting one is a personal – if not critical – choice!

If you enjoy weed and are prepared to pay a little extra for a smoother and higher-quality smoking session, then a bong is no doubt a worthy investment.

A device like a Roor bong is likely to enhance your dry herb’s potency. It could make the whole process of inhalation more efficient – and perhaps even healthier. In other words, a well-made glass bong can help you get more from less.

However, if you’re new to the world of bongs, consider trying an affordable wooden or acrylic. That said, while they cost significantly less than glass pieces, bongs made from cheaper materials are harder to clean. Also, many users say that cheap bongs negatively impact the flavor of the herb.

3 Things to Consider When Choosing a Glass Bong

anyone who is serious about medical cannabis use

1 – Inspect for Defects!

Always inspect the glass for defects and hairline cracks. Pay special attention to areas next to spirals and joints. Also, don’t automatically go for the largest bong you can find. You can find large bongs for cheap, but you will have mediocre sessions if they are acrylic bongs.

Even expensive glass bongs with lots of parts and accessories are not necessarily your best option. First, there is a greater chance of complex pieces breaking. Secondly, such bongs tend to create more pull as you drag, so it becomes harder to clear the tube.

2 – Even the Best Glass Bong Needs Cleaning — Before You Use It!

Clean your bong as soon as you bring it home from the store. If you buy bongs online, clean as soon as it arrives in the mail. This is especially true with the more expensive pieces as they are generally harder to sell. Such pieces spend more time gathering dust and absorbing particles that you don’t want to inhale.

While you don’t have to clean your bong after every session, you will enjoy a better experience. Use fresh, clean water when you do. Also, avoid overfilling the water chamber. This process could cause the liquid to shoot up the stem, potentially ruining your herb or splashing water into your face.

Also, never blow down into a bong’s tube. By doing this, you force the water out of the carb and up the downstream. You will either blow the herb out of the bowl or completely soak it.