#gold star smoke shop

[hellotailor]

Apologies if you've already done a post on this and I've just missed it, but can I ask for your take on the pyjamas worn by the cast of interview with vampire? I mean technically they're not a 100% necessary item, but just from a quick look there seems to be a lot of variety and they do change over the series

ok, i’m delighted by the specificity of this question, and it turns out that i have a VERY extensive answer.

there’s a lot of sleepwear in IWTV due to the volume of bedroom/coffin scenes, and like any other outfit, these costumes are shaped by characterization and historical period. for instance claudia initially wears a long, modest, frilly nightgown - an old-fashioned style that plays into her girlish doll wardrobe purchased by louis and lestat. however her sleepwear matures over the years, including a trendy lace nightdress with bloomers in the 1920s (note the rectangular silhouette), and a pink padded jacket/pastel robe outfit in 1940s paris. she's following contemporary trends while charting a visible trajectory from child to adult.

when i wrote about the Théâtre des Vampires coven costumes, i noted that while their wardrobes share certain themes (ie. monochrome patterns and stripes), they each have specific personal tastes. that holds true for sleepwear. in the S2 finale we see the coven going to bed in their coffins, with Eglee in a gorgeous (maybe 1940s?) robe, Celeste in a striped pajama suit reflecting her 1920s-30s cabaret style, and Armand in a plain grey set of prison jammies because he's Suffering.

of course, the star pajama outfits all belong to Louis and Lestat, playing into their wealthy domestic aesthetic in S1. they receive multiple bedroom/coffin scenes, and Lestat's gold Leyendecker robe is obviously iconic.

touching on the historical side of things for a moment, pajamas (as in a matching buttondown top and loose pants) were popularized in the western world in the 19th century, as a repurposed south asian import - kind of like how banyans became trendy among the upper classes in 18th century england. this was when loungewear started to catch on as a concept, both in terms of dressing gowns and smoking jackets (which you could wear while socializing at home) and actual pajamas, which became unisex in the 1920s.

back in his human life in the 18th century, Lestat probably slept naked or wore a shapeless white nightgown (and possibly a nightcap, the sexiest of garments). but in New Orleans he adopts Louis' lifestyle, which involves a luxurious wardrobe of fashionable menswear. they're both into shopping and looking good, and i think they enjoy the ritual of getting dressed together each night.

(i also have a personal theory that Lestat may prefer to sleep fully clothed because his formative traumatic memory involves waking up naked in the dark. after all, he doesn't need pajamas to stay warm, and he doesn't have a recent habit of wearing them in his human life like Louis does. then again, maybe he just enjoys having a new outfit for every occasion!)

in Dubai, we only get one scene (iirc) with Louis and Armand in their pajamas, lying in bed wearing outfits that tie into the striped prison bar imagery of their bedroom. Armand is in warmer brown tones (like his Paris wardrobe) while Louis is in black and grey, like the rest of his Dubai outfits. i'd also note that this is the one place where they're genuine in private, meaning that they aren't putting on a show for Daniel. so this is potentially Armand's most relaxed costume in the present day.

the fact that they're wearing this kind of old-school sleepwear feels very appropriate for their whole deal, imo. in the 21st century, a lot of people just sleep in boxers and t-shirts or whatever. there's a slightly 20th century vibe to wearing a full set of buttondown pajamas, and Armand's outfit reads as more stylish (and possibly more wealthy) than your average millennial guy. which makes sense! they're old men.

i think we can assume that every single thing in their Dubai home is ferociously expensive, even when it doesn't need to be. considering the way Louis gives himself a modern makeover in the finale, i do wonder if he'll switch over to sleeping in t-shirts etc next season, or if he'll stick with variations of the same sleepwear he wore during his mortal life.

p.s. all of my iwtv design posts are available on this tag!

[dontsh0vethesun]

cigarettes out the window

masterlist

emily prentiss x reader

18+: smoking, alcohol, smut; semi public sex, fingering, lotta kissing and biting, wine is passed from mouth to mouth :)

a/n: title from ‘cigarettes out the window’ by tv girl | word count: 1.7k

The hunt for Gold Star had left little room for relaxation. With both of you working overtime, your shared apartment with Emily currently housed two members of the FBI with heightened blood pressure and an elderly black cat who pestered you for food every chance he got. 

Your jaw ached from the clenching of your teeth you can seldom seem to stop and you stared at the ceiling while Emily caught a few hours of sleep. You slipped out from beneath the duvet without her stirring, holding your breath until you were sure you’d reached the doorway without her waking. 

With a quick glance in her direction, you made your way to the hidden packet of cigarettes you were sure she would’ve found by now, balancing the unlit stick between your lips as you poured a hefty glass of merlot. You kept the padding of your feet as quiet as possible as you tipped a handful of kibble into Sergio’s bowl, scratching him behind the ear as he purred before you stepped out onto the balcony. 

Every movement you made was calculated, keeping yourself as silent as possible before the hiss of gas filled the quiet of the night air; the spark of your lighter accompanied the distant hum of car engines and with your first inhale you could finally ease some of the tension built up in your shoulders. It was a vice you wish you didn’t have but in times like these you find yourself in dire need of a crutch to hold you up. 

Your arms rested on the metal fencing as you peered over the edge, watching the gentle breeze knock at the branches and the empty streets below. The bitter swig of wine burned your throat, and you made a mental note to buy a different brand the next time you went grocery shopping. You let your mind drift to nothing in particular, letting yourself sink into the silence until you heard the telltale creak of the sliding door behind you - you didn’t think twice before you flicked the half-finished cigarette to the ground below, blowing out the mouthful of smoke before you turned around. 

“Shit, I thought I hadn’t woken you,” you spoke, quickly spinning to face your only half-awake girlfriend. She’d lazily pulled her robe around her underwear-clad body and brushed a strand of her mussed-up hair behind her ear. 

“You didn’t, don’t worry,” she smiled. “I woke up for a glass of water and saw you’d gone,” she added - you almost missed her lie. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” you returned through a sigh. “I guess neither of us can at the moment.” 

She hummed in agreement, but the way she eyed you let you know she wasn’t oblivious to what you’d been doing. 

“I thought you’d quit.”

“I have; I just needed fresh air,” you shoddily fibbed, only earning a raised eyebrow in response. “I thought you’d quit,” you added teasingly. 

“I have.”

“So, what’s that in your hand?”

“What? Oh- these are yours,” she mumbled with a glance at the box in her grasp. “I found them in the dresser.” 

“Emily Prentiss, are you telling lies?” you teased her with a laugh. 

“Wha- no. No, I’m not.” She shook her head so profusely that even without any knowledge of profiling, a person could read her from a mile away. 

“We both know that’s not my brand, Em,” you pointed out. “And, hiding them in the dresser? I thought you’d give me a little more credit than that.” 

“Okay, fine,” she laughed with a playful roll of her eyes, finally coming to stand beside you with the small of her back pressed against the railings. “I guess we’ve both got filthy habits.” 

She peered at you through her lashes as she spoke, bending her head with the last of her words uttered around the butt of a cigarette; your hands sheltered it from the whisper of wind as the flame licked the end with a crackle at her first inhale only so audible because of the palpable quiet passing between you. 

You took a sip from your glass as she let smoke pass from the corner of her lips. 

“It’s nice to have a quiet moment with you,” she breathed, pushing the end of the cigarette between your lips. “It’s been a long week.” You hummed with an agreeing nod. 

“And it’s only the beginning,” you sighed.

“It’s made me think,” Emily began, plucking the glass from your hand to take a sip for herself. “That we should make the most of any moment alone we have at the moment.” 

Her free hand didn’t shy away from tracing a finger along your thigh, nudging the t-shirt you were wearing upwards to brush her touch against your hip. She took in the view of your face, cheeks blanketed by the yellowed glow of the moon, a small plume of smoke passing from your lips into the twilight sky and she couldn’t help but lean in closer. 

Your head tilted backwards as her lips ghosted the skin of your neck, giving ample access for the kiss she aches to place there. She could practically feel the thrumming of your pulse beneath her tongue, revelling in the salty-sweet taste of your skin with a gentle scrape of her teeth. 

She felt the movement of your neck as you took a drag of the cigarette, hearing you exhale shakily above her. She was nothing less than ravenous in her assault, nipping at the skin beneath your ear to lay her claim, taking hold of your waist just as harshly. She only pulled away to catch her breath, observing you with plump red lips and pupils blown to match. 

“Don’t hog that,” you teasingly pouted as she took another swig from the glass, only tutting when she took another with a smirk. Wordlessly, she nudged at your chin, hovering over you with her mouth full of wine and her eyes of something just as fruitful. With just a pointed crook of her brow, you knew to slacken your jaw to allow the earthy merlot to pass from her lips to yours, swallowing it down obediently. 

The smile of satisfaction did nothing to quell the needy ache you pooled with; your body practically hummed with need beneath her unwavering gaze. She's sure she could take in the sight for eternity. She placed the glass aside to take what was left of the cigarette between her fingers, balancing the filtered end between her lips while the palms of her hands set your hips on fire. 

Your own touch crept beneath her robe, soft and pliable skin warm and peppered with goosebumps. You couldn’t keep your kiss away from her chest, scattering pecks along her collarbone with your hands desperately kneading her breasts through the lace bra that got in your way. She hummed in pleasure, pulling you hopelessly nearer with her nails scraping the flesh of your thighs, grabbing and groping with her mind settled on taking any hold of you she could. 

Emily’s fingertips nudged at the waistband of your underwear, and though your hands tangled themselves within the salt and pepper tresses of her hair and your face nestled in the crook of her neck, she heard the desperate mewl and felt the twitch of your hips to urge on her movements. 

When she slid a finger through your folds, you finally pulled away to breathe - to take in the sight of your lover with the end of a cigarette lazily hanging from her lips and her hair mussed from your touch. Her free hand pulled it from her mouth with a final exhale of smoke, flicking the butt over the balcony without taking her focus from the digits she pushed into you. 

And, though your lips melded together with the bitter tastes of smoke and wine, it couldn’t be any sweeter. Her tongue fought against yours and her thumb drew circles over your clit, fingers curling within you whilst your hips chased the feeling with aimless rutting against her hand. 

“God, I needed this,” Emily breathed. “I needed you - just feeling you like this is all I ever need.”

You met her eyes with yours with words on the tip of your tongue, sentiments to match hers that fell short with the way she made you feel, digits moving with precise choreography - she only smirked at the way she can make you fall apart so easily. She had you trapped between her own body and the railing behind you, but the pain of metal against your back was washed away by the pleasure of impending release.

You kept your mouth against her jaw, sinking your teeth into her neck to quell the sounds she pulled from you. Though Emily may want to hear how she affects you, you would rather not wake up the entire street with the gasps and moans that threatened to spill into the quiet night. She kept up the rhythmic pace of her fingers pumping into your cunt, feeling the slick of your arousal against her skin and the way you clenched around her with the pleasure pulsing through you. 

“C’mon, baby, let go,” she rasped, feeling you teeter on the edge of climax before she pulled you to topple over. She hissed at the way you muffled your moan with a bite to her neck, but with your release, the both of you felt the stress of the week begin to melt away. 

She slipped her digits away from you once she’d ridden you through the high, sucking them clean of every drop as though it were her lifeline. Your heart thumped against your chest and you held your body up with your arms looped over her shoulders; you could hardly trust your legs to keep you upright. 

“Fuck, Emily,” you breathed through a laugh, one that she mirrored with her lust-blown eyes focused on you. 

“I’m that good, huh?” she cockily teased, chuckling at the playful shove you planted against her chest. 

“Come on,” you grinned, taking her by the hand to pull her behind you back into the apartment. 

“Where’re you taking me?”

“To bed,” you stated, turning to face her with your hands on her waist as you let her guide you backwards. You couldn’t keep away from her - you never can - but right now she’s all you could ever need. “I want you. But don’t expect us to get much sleep.”

[a-little-revolution]

where do you shop for clothes? I’m plus size so I know the struggle of finding cute clothes when you’re not shaped the way corporations think you should be, and I’m very curious how you approach it

Hello! I mostly thrift my clothing, since I'm poor and plus size - a big thing for me is layering and accessorizing. I love mixing patterns, materials and textures to give a sort of bog witch meets howls moving castle vibe! I especially love thrift stores that mostly older women go to, so I can get a lot of old fashioned jewellery and things.

Plus size-wise I go for a lot of high waist-ed skirts and dresses, I've pretty much completely ditched pants because finding ones that fit me was always a nightmare (plus trying them on always felt so triggering and draining). When I do buy pants I never go for jeans or tight fit ones, but rather ones with draw strings. Overall leggings are far more size inclusive and I can wear fleece ones in the winter!

Overall I go for fairly cheap pieces and arrange them in colour pallets that I adore, and add a lot of fake pearls, scarves, crystals and jewellery!

Photo description: a series of five photos displaying various outfits within my style. I am a little person with curly green hair (also purple in a couple photos), pointy eyebrows, a beard and gold facial jewellery. The first photo is a mirror selfie of me sitting in my wheelchair at a local thrift store. I am wearing a dark green frilly shirt with a dark blue Lolita dress over it, and a duo-chrome pearl necklace. In the second photo I am wearing red high waist pants with vertical stripes, a sheer orange floral shirt with the top buttons undone, with white and red pearl necklaces. The third photo is another mirror selfie in a book shop, I am standing with my rollator and wearing a dark green dress with a long sleeve purple button up under it. I wear a few necklaces and a black and grey striped tie tied into a non traditional bow. The forth photo was taken by a friend of mine while I am smoking CBD on our porch. I am wearing a purple button up, orange vest, green skirt and green jacket covered in buttons and patches. My jewlery included gold sun earrings, pearl necklaces, and a piece of citrine on a chain. I am wearing round glasses and stars drawn where my eyebrows are shaved off. The last photo is a mirror selfie in the men's washroom where I wear a more punk style - a black tank top over a black and white striped shirt, a black beanie, white pearls and black necklaces. Hearts are drawn where my eyebrows are shaved off.

[egnidres]

Version française

Information :

I think I spent a lot of time keeping information about Magicpunk like a dragon keeping its gold close to its side. It's more because I was debating with myself about details that I found illogical and that probably needed to be changed in order to be ‘acceptable’ to me. But I also know that I risk changing things again and again just because I'm not satisfied.

Of course if you have any questions you can ask, I'll do my best to answer them.

Here's what Killer, Cross, Dust and Horror look like. This wonderful illustration was made by @zu-is-here

In this universe, magic is present in everything (stones, wood, water, blood, etc.) in different quantities. It follows the same principle as the colour of stars: the hotter a star is, the more its colour turns purple. It's the same principle with magic, but not because of its temperature, but because of its quantity.

Some things don't have the colour of the magic they contain, but when they change state, like wood for example, the flames it gives off will have different colours. But precious stones, for example, have exactly the same colour as the amount of magic they contain.

What's more, their state can also influence their use. For example, gems are solid and can explode if misused, while water is most often used (especially in factories) because it's easy to separate the magic from the material. They simply use the principle of distillation (magic evaporates at just 75°C). However, the smoke is dangerous and potentially fatal. The smoke affects the souls of skeletons as it is not protected by fur, scales or skin.

Two people who worked in this place are affected by the smoke: Killer and Cross. They were born and lived for years in the slums, experiencing cold, hunger and fear, but they always stayed together.

It's because of the smoke that their souls and irises are red in whole or in part, creating Gamic antibodies to protect themselves and destroy the threat. But the soul is no longer able to stop or even reduce the production of its antibodies and so it gradually destroys itself because of their excessive presence, attacking the soul little by little. If we were to draw an analogy with two diseases that really exist, they would in some way be type 1 diabetes and cancer.

Killer's soul changed shape to become a circle and that's what saved his life, but Cross's didn't. That's why his soul changed shape to become a circle and that's what saved his life. That's why his soul is an inverted heart, half red and cracked in places. Horror and Dust help them find a way to save Cross.

Horror is a clockmaker and owns the shop with Dust in one of the modest neighbourhoods at a crossroads. They live close enough to the highest quarters that aristocrats can come and see Horror's creations and earn quite a bit of money. But it's frowned upon for these people to go there, so it's quite rare and they're quite discreet.

They then decide to ask Nightmare for help to save Cross.

Cross and Killer can't read, so Dust and Horror teach them to read and write.

[mistydeyes]

OMG THERES 1K OF YOU!! I cannot believe it! Thank you all so much for all the love and support these last few months :) Literally tearing up at how many people love my works. It all started with a silly little pharmacist fic and look at where we are now!

To celebrate, I will be opening up my inbox for some prompts! For the next week, feel free to send me a character, a prompt below, and any other details (ex. female, male, or g/n character) :)

aesthetic prompts 💌 - CLOSED NOW! thank you for all the submissions :)

soft and cute - all fluff!

vase of flowers - they return home to your door with a small bouquet of flowers with rudy

loveseat - shopping for furniture for your shared home

linen tablecloths - hosting a dinner party (one that is pinterest worthy)

orange juice - sick days call for the best care

vintage maps - a spontaneous trip with an event filled itinerary

cherry lip balm - what was your first kiss like? with graves

paper rings - “put this on” “why did you make a ring out of the straw wrapper?”

ramekins of soup - you both are not experienced chefs but you try a new recipe in the kitchen

tuberose- looking at old photo albums and reminiscing on old memories

tote bags - “hey can you hold this for me?” “why do you have so many things?” “it’s not my fault these pockets don’t hold anything”

sugar cubes - they surprise you with your favorite dessert/sweet treat with price

music - “i made you a playlist!”

pearls - a fancy dinner out with expensive clothes and dining

folded sheets - "hi, i'm your neighbor across the hall :)"

gold - a small gifted ring as a token of your love with price

unlit cigarette - meeting in the most unexpected of places

hot chocolate - a warm snowed in cabin with nowhere to go

house plant - “for your new apartment!” “you know i’m not here enough to water that”

pastel bonnets and rattles - “we are NOT naming our child that”

perfume - perfume bottles decorate your bureau and you decide to let them choose your scent for the day with gaz

friendship bracelets - friends don't look at friends that way, is there something between us? with ghost

shower of tears - angst

crystal glasses - a fight ends with shattered wine glasses and someone is left to pick up the pieces with gaz

running mascara - "i can't believe you would say that to me" with the 141

hyacinth - they decide to interrupt the wedding just as you're about to say your vows with ghost

cardigans - "please don't go, please don't leave me" with ghost

sea salt - you can't do this anymore and just need to get away from them

stars - "do you think in another universe things would have worked out for us?"

cubic zirconia - you both come to the realization that your relationship is beyond repair

cold sheets - "can you hold me just one more time?" with soap and gaz

hydrangeas - a sudden death leaves one of you without the other for the rest of time

cocktails - "you need to stop drinking too much" "what do you know?"

graveyard - "please i don't want to die" with price

enlisted - military au

empty cartridges - "I want you to run, I'll cover you!"

uniforms - they sure clean up well as you look at them in their dress uniform with price

cigarette smoke - you share a cigarette (and exchange indirect kisses) while on patrol with ghost

confidential files - you're the newest addition to the team and you recognize a familiar face

jacket - you forgot to pack you winter gear and they're helping you avoid the cold

angel - this time you're their knight in shining armor as you save them with soap | with price

manila folders - "I'm being transferred to another unit"

bandages - you are the only one with the med kit and are tasked with patching them up

barbells - "you're doing it wrong, let me show you"

MREs - "can we switch? this food is absolute shit"

hit the showers (18+) - a prank ends with you getting your clothes and towel stolen with soap

wigs - you get sent undercover with them

hot and seductive - smut (18+)

lace (18+) - “wait for me in the bedroom, i have a surprise”with soap

stained lipstick (18+) - rough kisses in the back of an uber with gaz | with ghost

stolen glaces (18+) - "are you going to kiss me or not?"

tanning lotion (18+) - you just wanted help with an even lotion application but now their touch is venturing elsewhere

black and white photos (18+) - you take a few photos so they can remember you (and your body) while on deployment with price: part i and part ii

fruit juice (18+) - "let's test out that theory about drinking pineapple juice"

morning sun (18+) - you have nowhere to go and decide to spend it in bed ;) with ghost | with gaz | with price

silk (18+) - “you look absolutely gorgeous tonight”

[fleckcmscott]

Hearth and Home

Summary: During Christmas in Missouri, Arthur learns - and Y/N relearns - how to celebrate with family.

Words: 6,525

Warnings: None

A/N: This little piece is based on a request from @jokerownsmysoul, as well as a continuation of Haunted Heart. Please enjoy this very tardy holiday story! 😂 Thank you to @jokerownsmysoulfor not only making the request, but also beta-ing the first draft. Much appreciation to @sweet-nothings04and @forever-fleck for helping with the intro pic! 💜

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Christmastide hadn't yet crept into Gobler Mall, but it'd slid halfway through the door and propped it open.

A cardboard sleigh advertised Santa's imminent arrival. Kiosks selling Dead Sea Salt body scrubs and smoked cheeses were buried in unopened boxes of merchandise. A man in a green janitor's uniform hung honeycomb snowflakes from the center atrium, his ladder buttressed against the second story's balcony wall. 

The anchor store in the east wing had outraced its competitors to win the gold. A twenty-foot tree stood in the center of Hecht's Fineries, plastic branches reaching out to entice customers past cosmetics to a world of sporting goods, toys, and electronics.

Y/N pushed a shopping cart through Today's Woman, the fashion department situated between cookware and shoes. Right on her heels, Arthur browsed with the exuberance of a boy who knew exactly what to write on his Christmas list. Adorable, yes. Contagious and delightful? Certainly. The magic of the season permeated the air whenever he was near.

But if he didn't lose her trail soon, surprising him would be impossible.

They'd brought a small selection of gifts from Gotham. Curry pastes from Siam Market and a Glob's Gourmet Pickles sampler (which had, thankfully, remained intact during their flight). But with limited luggage space, they'd settled on buying most here. A quilted jewelry box appeared a good fit for Ruthie, and with Jason pretending he'd grown out of comic books, they'd chosen a leather baseball glove for him. That left a Mr. Wizard Ecology Kit for Brian and a set of Read-A-Long books on tape for Ashley.

Now they had to settle on what to get Mabel and Ed. And each other.

"I dunno what she likes," Arthur told Y/N, flipping through a circular rack of blouses. Hangers squealed along a metal rod, an atonal chorus. "She dresses more casually than you, but she still looks nice." A one shoulder shrug concluded the observation.

Y/N leaned onto the cart's handle. "A good rule to go by is, if I'd hate it, she'd love it. Wait, that might work." She raised her hand to stop the search. He held out a horizontally striped pullover, black and confident pink illuminated by metallic threads.

A sharp nod answered his knotted brow. "It's definitely her."

As they made their way to the register, a row of mannequin busts caught his gaze. Decked out in festive finery, they wore sweaters thick enough to warm the skinniest soul. He strolled the length of the display, hands clasped at the small of his back, mocha curls brushing his shoulders. He stopped at a crewneck two-thirds of the way down.

Flocked plus signs spanned the shoulders and chest, like a blanket of light snow. Alternating patterns of stars and deer came next, followed by a swathe of rich maroon, the same color as his suit. An odd design, to be sure, but fashionable. The trendiest thing ever to have a chance at moving into Arthur's closet.

When his thin lips pursed, she sidled next to him. Shopping for others didn't mean he couldn't consider himself. "You'd look gorgeous in that," she said.

A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Really?"

"Really." She reached for it with a seductive slowness. "Should we get it now or wait for Santa?"

On a hitched laugh, he stole it from her fingertips and got in line.

~~~~~

Carrying a tray of Morrison's Cafeteria broiled chicken, yellow rice, and two diet cokes, Mabel zigzagged through grey tables to a four-top on the periphery of the food court, where Y/N guarded Radio Shack and Sears bags with the promise not to peek. Though not much of a splurger, she was surprisingly fun to shop with. Admiring window displays, suggesting gifts for Ed and Arthur. Mabel had needed that quality time, another chance to be Big and Little Sis. 

Ever a rocket about to lift off, Ashley bounced on a stack chair beside Y/N. The other three children were in school, busy learning their ABCs. Sun cascaded through skylights, brought out honey blonde streaks in the toddler's hair. Y/N took a blue crayon from a RoseArt three-pack and pointed to a spot on a paper placement, an instruction to make the first move in a tic-tac-toe game. In a fit of giggles, the girl clapped and drew an X over the entire grid. 

A mix of joy and pensiveness twisted Mabel's heart.

Fed by losing her mom at twenty-four, she braced against the possibility of not being there. New milestones brought happiness - but they also reminded her she'd be fifty when her youngest was a freshman in high school. Nights of four-hour naps and days filled with play and homework took a lot more out of her than motherhood had a decade ago. There were moments exhaustion seeped so deeply into her bones she could've slept standing up.

Once Ashley was sent to a coin-operated carousel ride a couple yards away, Mabel confided to Y/N. "Don't get me wrong. I'd do anything for them. I just thought they'd all be in school by now." She rolled straw paper between thumb and forefinger. "Mom never seemed to get tired. But chasing Ashley around, I feel like I'm ready for the retirement home."

"She has parents who are older and wiser. Who know when they were too strict with the others and not strict enough. Isn't that a good thing?" Y/N tore a final piece of chicken off the bone and touched her toes to Mabel's. "You want to be mom. But you can't be. No one could. Just be yourself. You've always been more than enough, Able Mabel."

Blinking moisture from her eyes, Mabel dipped her chin. Was it middle-aged that'd mellowed Y/N, made her better at comfort rather than immediate investigation? Or had Arthur nurtured her heart by giving it a place to rest? Whatever the cause, it was a welcome change.

With the success of her second marriage, however, maybe she could solve a little, too. 

Mabel pushed abandoned grains of rice with her spoon. "I had been looking forward to having more time with Ed."

"Has he gone back to working around the clock?"

"No, no. He's home for dinner every night. But with school projects and potty training and story hour and baseball practice and scouting... Sometimes I forget what it's like to be a wife." A sip of coke as she checked on Ashley. The girl continued to ride in circles. "You love being a wife," Mabel continued. "What's the longest you and Arthur have gone without...you know."

Y/N dabbed at her mouth with the corner of her napkin. After a moment, she gave a small shrug. "A month or two?"

Mabel's jaw hung open. "That's it?" It'd been nearly six for she and Ed. Their last attempt had been cut short by Ruthie's knock on their bedroom door to ask for water - just as her underwire had been unhooked. They'd left a glass on her nightstand every night thereafter. But the spark continued to elude.

"Our lives are quieter," Y/N said, waving the unspoken comparison away. "And you've been married, what, eighteen years? That's much longer than four. Have you talked about this at all with Ed?"

A resigned sigh heaved out of Mabel. "Whenever I start, something comes up."

"It doesn't have to be a long, drawn-out trial. Maybe you can suggest listening to Dr. Sally. Have you heard of her? She's from Gotham and Arthur swears by her. He says she taught him everything he knows. Well, everything he knew before we..." Crimson colored her cheeks, her lips pressed together in a pensive grin. "I don't know if I should tell you, but- Can you keep a secret?"

Mabel grasped the bottom of her chair and hopped it forward. "I love secrets."

"When he and I met, he hadn't been with a woman before. Not like that, anyway."

Nose wrinkled, Mabel tilted her head, her entire face squinting. No, Arthur wasn't her type. But she knew a good man when she met one. And a good looking man when she saw one. "How is that possible?"

Y/N snorted, loud enough to muffle it with the back of her hand. "That was my reaction. It was a lot of pressure; I don't think Arthur realizes that. But I wanted him and loved him and that won out.

"I asked him once if he felt like he'd missed out on anything, having only been with me. He said no, because he's comfortable with me and knows I care about him. Anyway, he gave Dr. Sally full credit for being wonderful. I'm sure the show is syndicated down here."

The twinkle of romance and true love in her sister's eye left Mabel fully convinced. She picked up a crayon and folded the placemat in half. "I'll call the local radio stations."

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Ed and Arthur rode the escalator to the mall's second story. For Ed, it was the only escalator in the county. For Arthur, it was simply a way to get upstairs. 

He trailed his brother-in-law past a soap and scented candle shop, an avalanche of perfume pouring out of the place. A silver engraving shop stood to their left, hawking the likes of picture frames, wedding cake serving sets, and doorknobs. They dodged a group of teenagers who should've been in school to arrive at a glass storefront tucked into the corner.

City Drawers' cursive sign was a thrill in pink neon. Muzak masquerading as jazz sounded through the open entrance. Two mannequins stood in the shop's windows, illuminated by spotlights at their feet. One wore a lace bra and panty set, the other a diaphanous camisole with a cowl neck. A hanging sign announced a sale on Maidenform: Buy one, Get one half off.

Arthur chewed his thumbnail.

Donahue's and L. Ballinger carried styles both he and Y/N liked, without intimidating buckles or oddly placed straps. Specialty shops were expensive. Though he'd happily picture her in every display, going to a boutique bordering on Adults Only made shopping an event he had the wrong ticket to, purchased for a week-old show. 

With a casualness Arthur envied, Ed crossed the black tile threshold, stealing Arthur's chance to back away and backtrack to Hecht's.

Forcing out a breath, he shoved his hands in his pockets. Made the decision to get over himself and stepped into the welcoming peach interior.

Low lighting gave the shop an air of intrigue, flattered the stitching, the promised silhouette of each item. A woman and high school student discussed the finer points of choosing a first bra. ("You don't want it to stick out too much under your sweaters." "Mom!") Cheeks on fire, he turned away from the conversation meant for mothers and daughters to see a husband and wife modeling satin robes. A cashier dressed like a consummate professional, as if she belonged in Y/N's office, told a woman in a puffy coat that underwear was returnable only if unopened.

Ed closed in on a Christmas display to the left, where a scantily clad mannequin wore a Mrs. Claus mob hat. He grabbed a Santa red negligee and gave it a once over. "Think Mabel'd like this?" he asked, thrusting it towards Arthur.

One glance at the faux fur trimmed neckline and it was clear Y/N would hate it. "She'd love it."

Relief palpable in his easy smile, Ed nodded his thanks and headed to the Famous Fragrances cabinet at the rear of the shop.

Arthur slinked along the wall, passing feather boas and garter belts. (The black one with pale pink roses on the hips was an omen to follow when they returned to Gotham City.) A man on the hunt for a gift that wouldn't be embarrassing to give his wife in front of her family. In front of her nephews and nieces.

Forgotten on a bottom shelf under dust and elbow length gloves, he found his trophy.

Knee high wool socks, lilac and knit in a pointelle pattern akin to lace. He took the pair in his grasp, ran his fingertips from cuff to toe. Every past piece of thrift store wool had been a scouring pad on his skin. These were smooth, buttery. He could imagine her calves wrapped up in these subtle cousins to stockings, a long-awaited present under the tree.

A lyric came to mind, an old song he'd gone too long without hearing. Humming a few bars, he sang in his head. You're the starch in my collar, you're the lace in my shoe...

Arthur hurried to the register, but turned back at the last second and stuck the garter belt under his arm.

He placed the socks on the counter, indicated them with his chin. "Can you put those in a box? With a ribbon on it?" He slid the garter across the surface and leaned forward. "And could you please wrap this separately?"

~~~~~

Snug in the tub, Y/N's eyelids fell shut as she massaged almond shampoo into her scalp. The circling slowed as she exhaled contentment. After cramming two major holidays and the preparations for a third into a mere nine days, she'd savor this second to relax. 

The notion twisted the corner of her mouth, a crescent of irony. 

That she'd be able to relax here at all would've been laughable before, when shadows had lurked in every corner and out in the open to confront her with what she'd lost. Arthur's compassion and Mabel's letting the subject of their parents alone now allowed Y/N to cope on her own terms. 

The adjoining guestroom wasn't simply her father's former office, where she'd been forced to accept the gravity of Henry's diagnosis. It was also a bedroom where she could rest at the end of the day. The bathroom was more than an old examination room, forest green and warm, where her father had crowned his four-year-old daughter with a head mirror and tested her reflexes. It was a place unwind. To cleanse her skin and her heart. Twin threads of past and present that entwined themselves into a semblance of peace.

Locks rinsed and detangled, she swiped her hair back and reached for her wet-dry electric razor.

A light tap tap rapped at the door.

She'd recognize her husband's Excuse Me knock anywhere. But with a full house, doublechecking was safer. "Who is it?"

"It's Arthur."

At her instant invitation, he slid through the door. He'd donned his maroon sweater - as he had every day since she'd told him he'd look gorgeous in it.

She'd been right.

He tucked a stray curl behind his ear and turned towards the toilet. "Sorry, the other bathroom's busy. I'll be quick." He lifted the cover and seat and unzipped his trousers. 

Razor perpendicular to her shin, she started to drag it in a straight line to her knee. 

It sputtered like an old engine, gaining and losing speed in an attempt to complete its mission. She hit the bottom with the heel of her hand. Flipped the switch off and back on. A pathetic whirr, which slowed to a worrying grind. Then a final, sad stop.

With a huff, she set it on the tub's corner shelf. "I should've charged this before we left."

He shook himself off, cocked his head her way. "Maybe Mabel has one? I can go check."

"You don't have to bother."

Arthur waved her off, insisted it wasn't one at all. He rinsed his hands and stepped out. Grin tight enough to pinch, she scrubbed at her armpits and breasts. Noted a hair by her aerola she'd have to pluck later. The washcloth slid across her stomach, the feminine swell of her abdomen. A quick dip between her legs.

The door swung ajar. Extending his palm with a flourish, Arthur beamed down at her.

Eyes wide, the entirety of her attention shot to the Pink Daisy Gillette.

She hadn't used a wet razor for five years, had banished them from the apartment as soon as he'd agreed to move in. Since he'd asked her to keep them away from him. Sure, if a matter was important, she was a risk taker. Being stubble free for one extra day didn't make the cut.

Y/N reached to take it from him. A bit too fast. "Thank you."

"Actually, I-" He held the forbidden object in front of his chest, twirled it between anxious fingers. "I'd like to do it."

She drew her feet inward. Concern felt silly, an unwelcome heckler. A true intrusion on their intimacy. But given Arthur's history, it made sense. And Dr. Ludlow had agreed keeping razor blades out of the apartment was a good idea.

As if able to read her thoughts, he winced at the floor, a move that felt too close to shame. He spoke with the wounded dignity of the earnest yet disbelieved. "I've been okay for a long time now."

An ache pressed her sternum, for she did indeed believe him. He'd trusted her two years ago, had taken the good with the very, very bad. Shouldn't she be able to trust him? Refrain from making a normal activity - a loving gesture he'd asked for - a crossroads to crisis? 

She pushed the worries from her throat with an ahem. "You're right. I'm sorry."

His handsome visage instantly brightened. 

Loosening her legs, she wrung out her washcloth. "You're going to get all wet."

"I'll dry."

"What about your pants?"

"They come off."

It was said without guile, but she chuckled, anyway. She retrieved the soap. Worked up a good lather. Smoothed suds down her left leg.

His teeth pressed his lower lip in an eager grin. Perching on the rim of the tub, he pushed his sleeves to his elbows. Bent to pluck her towel from the floor and cover his lap. A secure hold on her heel as he pulled her into position.

Gently, he laid the blade a centimeter below her knee and drew it towards him. A glance of a touch.

"A little harder," she said. "Leg hair is stubborn."

"I don't wanna hurt you."

"You won't." She lay in the curved end of the tub. "How old were you when you started to shave?"

"Fourteen, I think." A soft, closed-mouth laugh. "One night, when Penny and her boyfriend were gone? I stole his razor and shaving cream. I must've used half the can." Short scrapes at the front of Y/N's ankle. "I pressed so hard to get through all the foam, I got a burn. It hurt so bad. My mother asked what was wrong with my face. I told her I'd been out in the sun too long - in February."

Giggling, Y/N tossed her head back. "I'm sure you were very convincing. Speaking of which: I have to convince Mabel to tone it down for Christmas."

"Isn't that why she invited us down here?"

"Yes, but she's going to cook herself to death." At Thanksgiving, Y/N hadn't been able to see the table for all the food. What with their household being too small for a full spread, she and Arthur stuck to a chicken or a couple of turkey breasts. "She likes to make a big dinner for Christmas Eve and a breakfast buffet in the morning."

The tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips. "We could make dinner and breakfast."

Y/N gulped against unbidden images floating to the surface. She hadn't cooked a holiday meal here for eight years, and the last had been an exercise in heartbreak. Mashed up food, saliva on cotton, fear pretending to be revulsion on the faces of her family. Benji's Very Own Christmas Story on TV to tide keep her father calm and an entire bottle of Sanatogen to calm herself. 

Yet, the idea was lovely, a reflection of her husband's generosity and kindness. Putting her baggage on him would be ungenerous and unkind. And, just maybe, it could be an opportunity she wouldn't have taken on her own.

She studied the ripples in the water. Concentrated on the pressure of his fingertips on her skin. Glides of metal and aloe. "Stroganoff?"

"That's special for us." Arthur squeezed the subtle half-moon of her calf.

Fuzzy fluttering fleeted through her, at the squeeze and the us. They decided on glazed ham, a dish her mother had made every year. Y/N made a mental note to peruse the oldBetter Homes & Gardens cookbook, the checkered one with the side pocket. "We can make garlic mashed potatoes, too. If we double the recipe, it'll be enough for eight." Broccoli and cheese casserole would serve as a second side, of which Arthur would claim all the crispy corners. Stuffing out of three boxes. All that was left was dessert.

He shook the razor in the bathwater. "Gingerbread's good."

"I'll add a can of whipped cream to the grocery list."

Pecking the arch of her foot, he scooted along the tub's rim. Angled her leg so that her thigh rested on his. The razor whispered a line within an inch of her groin. Puffs of her breath skimmed her flesh. Her tendons tightened. Her knee jerked against his touch.

He knelt beside the tub to gather water in his hands. Slipped them down her legs. He rinsed her again, his expression melting into satisfaction. "You're beautiful," he said, palm sliding to her hip. His green gaze dropped to her mouth, his caress now a firm grip.

Then his lips seized hers.

A startled gasp jolted her. 

What Arthur had just done was romantic. Wonderful. An act out of a shared fantasy. If they'd been anywhere else, a delicious weight would've warmed her belly. But that old forest green seeped in at the edges of her mind's eye, pulled the thread of past askew. Now that weight felt like a bowling ball.

She broke off the kiss. Embarrassed whispers between bottled breaths. "Arthur, I-" Her fingers curled, a loose fist by his cheek. "I can't. Not here."

Drops fell from his wrist to her sternum. Charted paths to the notch at the base of her throat. Silence weighed down on her, a whole league's worth of bowling balls.

Swallowing, she raised her eyes to meet his. 

When they did, understanding softened his brow. His voice was low, soft. A comfort as powerful as present thread. "It's okay." He retreated to sit on his heels and dry his hands, chestnut waves falling to frame his sculpted cheeks. He stood and bent to peck the top of her head. "You better do that other leg yourself." With that, he turned to leave.

She scrambled to sit up. "Arthur?"

Hand on the doorknob, he looked back at her.

"I love you," she said.

Dimples deepening, he bestowed a shy, radiant smile. "I know."

~~~~~

Mabel placed the Santa mug with the candy cane handle on the windowsill to finish trimming the tree. It was situated by the front window, about a yard from the guestroom. Ed and Jason had disappeared to the basement to search for decorations. One of Ruthie's favorite records played, John Denver and the Muppets' A Christmas Together. 

Arthur knelt beside Mabel. On the opposite side of the living room, Y/N and the three youngest children worked on paper snowflakes in the play corner. Few words had passed between them, but the quiet was the kind that belonged to old marrieds who were confident in their choice of each other. Irritated, in love, invested. There'd be no running to the watering hole today.

Nevertheless, Mabel sought to gladden the place. Trimming the tree was one of her favorite rituals, right up there with reading The Night Before Christmas and stuffing stockings. There was no way she'd allow grumpiness to gel into gloom.

Digging through a popcorn tin overflowing with ornaments, each wrapped carefully in a sandwich bag, she said, "Don't be surprised if the munchkins are knocking on your door at five tomorrow." 

"That's okay. I don't let Y/N sleep in on Christmas." He hung a stained-glass rocking horse on a middle branch of the artificial tree. "You know, she still has the cookie you made her when you were kids. In the toy oven."

"Does she really?" 

"She hangs it up every year."

Mabel retrieved another satin bauble, this one from the Keepsake series of ornaments. "Holidays are happy when friends are together" it declared. The phrase brought a pleasant smile to her face and a quickening to her heart. 

Y/N's offer to give her a break by preparing Christmas dinner had been a surprise, a true act of affection Mabel had to accept. But when Y/N had said she was going to prepare everything herself, Arthur's brow furrowed into one thick caterpillar. It was an obvious deviation from how this conversation was supposed to go. 

Familiar with how hard it was on him to feel shut out, Mabel rescued Arthur from his skepticism with an invitation to make dessert. Dessert wasn't technically a part of dinner and therefore fair game. Though she'd planned on chocolate and pecan pinwheels, they settled on gingerbread cookies and spent the morning rolling dough and downing coffee. 

During their third round of cookie cutting, she'd said, "These are perfect. Have you made them before?" 

"Penny had a gingerbread recipe on the wall in the kitchen," he'd said. Another drummer boy emerged from the brown dough. "I can't remember making it, but I know I dropped a bag of flour. She smeared it on our faces and told me, 'Every real cook has flour on his cheeks.'"

Mabel's laugh had dissolved into a wistful sigh. From what Y/N had shared, discussions about his childhood were rare and memories that made him smile even rarer. With a sprinkle of flour on both their noses, they'd put the cookie sheet on the middle oven rack and set the timer.

Miss Piggy's shrill plea for five golden rings cut through the recollection. Eyelid twitching, Mabel straightened the hanger of a Baby's First Christmas ceramic bootie and called to her sister. "Remember when we were kids, and we'd sing along to the radio?"

With a nod, Y/N folded white construction paper into a triangle. "And at the Silver Spur." She sang softly, a relief from the record's caterwauling. "Country road, take me home to the place I belong-"

"Gotham City," Mabel joined in. "Jersey highway."

The twitch teasing Arthur's chin defied the set of his jaw.

"When you put it like that, you almost make it sound romantic," Y/N said. 

Just then, Ed thudded into the room, lugging a box of plastic garland. Haphazard leaves and berries sprouted from the cardboard box. Nose buried in an LCD hockey game, Jason followed close behind. Ed asked, "Hey, do you do any Christmas standup shows?"

"One or two at the usual clubs." Arthur stood to toss handfuls of Brite Star tinsel at the tree. "How did the wife get her husband to go to the office party?"

"Jason, put that away and help me with this." Ed plunked the box to the carpet with a groan. "I don't know. How?"

"By telling him, 'yule love it.'" An elongated u for pun's sake.

Stifling a giggle, Mabel shook her head. His jokes hadn't gotten much better, but his ability to make her smile won her over. 

"And it always works."Y/N extricated herself from scraps of paper, then checked her watch. "I better start dinner," she said, and excused herself from the room.

In her peripheral vision, Mabel caught Arthur's rapid blink. His posture threatened to deflate like an old tire. "I thought she was doing better this time," he mumbled.

"She is, Arthur. She is." In the manner of a mother assigning a sullen son the most important task - as her own mother had done for her after Y/N had moved out - Mabel patted his shoulder. "If you could find the tree topper, that'd be a big help."

~~~~~

Arms folded across his chest, Arthur braced himself on the doorframe, careful to keep his toes on the foyer side of the floor's transition strip and off the kitchen linoleum.

The side of Y/N's hand smoothed a crimson tablecloth over the oblong dining table. She laid a plastic wreath in the middle, completed the centerpiece with three ivory candles inside the ring. She retrieved eight quilted placemats featuring Christmas geese from the drawer to the left of the stove and pulled cloth napkins from the cupboard to the right. She knew where everything was without asking. As if she'd left here yesterday.

When he'd suggested making dinner, bumming around while Y/N roleplayed 1978 wasn't what he'd had in mind. Standing by like an extra as she measured brown sugar and honey. Loitering while she shoved broccoli in Corning Ware and sprinkled it with cheese.

Given that it didn't quite fit her bustline, the velveteen, emerald halter dress she wore must've been borrowed from Mabel. Y/N's hair was feathered in the usual manner, but with extra body that meant she'd used mousse and a curling iron. Earth tone makeup highlighted her natural prettiness, save for the red stain on her lips. Poinsettias dangled from her ears, a Beauty Boutique original. 

She opened a panel cabinet over the sink, then grabbed a stepstool to peek inside. Kitten-heeled foot extended behind her, she retrieved a stack of plates. Her shoe threatened to fall to the floor. When she teetered, he offered to steady her. But she declined. Descended backwards step by step. Put the plates on the counter with a soft but unwavering "I've got it."

His cheek ached from gnawing. Out of respect for her, he hadn't argued in front of her sister. But doing this as a couple - as a family - had been what he'd craved.

So he slid across the linoleum to inspect the plates. Trace his thumb over the cheery holly motif along the edges.

She whisked the dishes away. "I'll light the candles when the food is done," she said, a hitch in her voice she failed to hide.

He half-turned to her. Noted the upward draw of her shoulders, elbows tight at her sides. She set matching tumblers at the two o'clock positions by each plate. He longed to fold the cloth napkins. He longed to take out the cutlery.

He longed to pry.

Lips pressed to a sore line, he recalled their fight when he'd cornered her in the shower, one of the worst arguments they'd ever had. He was loathe to follow that road again. Instead, he grabbed a cooking spoon, stirred the mashed potatoes, and searched for compromise. 

Before he could err, she crossed to stand two feet from him. Leaning back against the counter, she gripped the Formica edge with both hands. Her fingers went white.

"When I lived here," she started. "I did all the Christmas decorating and cooking. I loved it. It was a day I could pretend my life was normal, just for an hour or two. Mabel and Ed would bring the kids. We'd drink cocoa and open gifts and have a little fun. Except that last year."

Arthur's stirring slowed, every fiber waiting with want for all of it. All of her.

"I wanted to keep my spirit up or touch my dad in some way." A familiar, familial word she never used. It was always father. "But the harder I tried, the worse it was. He wouldn't eat and wouldn't stop crying. When I washed him, he tried to push me away, but he was too weak - his arms were matchsticks. He must've been scared - he wasn't really with it by then. And he scared Mabel and the kids and..."

Lashing fluttering, she sucked her teeth. "The man who'd nurtured me, who'd loved me, wasn't there anymore. He was possessed by a stranger I didn't want to know. And being here - having to stay in this house - was like trying to live inside a ghost."

In spite of the watery tenor of her voice, she offered Arthur a tremulous smile. "Tonight it doesn't feel so haunted." 

An anxious dam gave way, crumbling to flood love through his frame. He understood, then. Doing all this by herself standing here alone, was a ritual to exorcise her past. He reached for her wrist, pulled her to his side with one arm. When she put her head on his shoulder, he dropped the cooking spoon into the goopy mass. 

Her palms pressed his back. "I'm happy to be able to share this part of me now." 

"Me, too. I mean, I'm happy you shared it with me, too." He buried his face in her hair, let out a huff equal parts support and relief. "I want you to share everything."

Seconds of silence before her lips made a smacking sound on her teeth, and he knew she was grinning.

Ever the woman to push down her feelings a tad too quickly (except for love; thank whatever was listening there was always love), she stepped out his arms, wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. The crockpot let out an air raid warning of a beep.

She took a box of matches from the corner of the windowsill above the sink and pressed it into his palm. Offered a luminous look and invited him into her past. "You light the candles and I'll serve."

~~~~~

Blue wrapping paper with silver bells and holly. Little bears wishing little ones Merry Christmas on pine green. Gold and red foil interweaving in an intricate scroll. The four-by-four space under the tree contained enough color and excitement to fill a North Pole workshop.

Hair tugged into a haphazard ponytail and replete in fuzzy slippers, Mabel dropped onto a chair next to Ed and attempted to squint away her dull headache. The adults had stayed up until 1:00 AM last night, wrapping boxes, drinking cocoa, and carrying on. After dinner, Arthur had nibbled at the gingerbread cookies until he'd had to take two Tums - then surprised everyone by claiming the last slice of Thanksgiving's pumpkin pie.

Clad in their lazy morning best, Arthur and Y/N sat hip to hip in front of the tree. She'd yanked on the lavender socks with the enthusiasm of having found a long-lost treasure. He munched on the macadamia nuts Mabel had thought would make a lame gift, but Y/N had insisted he'd love. The cowhide wallet she'd given him lay open on his lap, the card slot's gold leaf letters reading "A + S" followed by a heart on display. Cheesy. Seemingly out of character for Big Sis. But she glowed whenever she talked about him. She'd gotten starry eyed about Jeff but never glowed. 

Once she'd unwrapped Mabel's present to her, she held it in both hands but hesitated to open it. The photo album risked melancholy, but Mabel hoped Y/N would be able to find joy, too. 

"Those are photos of us," Mabel assured her. At that, Y/N lifted the front cover. The first was a black and white featuring four year old Y/N cross-legged on the floor, the new baby in her arms, a big grin on her face. "I took the best pictures from all of mom and dad's photo albums. They start from when we were little and go until our visit last year. And there are blank pages for more." 

Hugging the album to her chest, Y/N made a promise. "There'll be more. A lot more."

Ruthie helped Ashley put one of her Wuzzles reading cassettes in her Fisher Price tape player, while Ashley patted Ruthie's jewelry box's quilted surface as if it were a cat. Jason let Brian try out his new baseball mitt, and Brian put his feet on the coffee table and flipped through his Experiments in Ecology book. 

Ed's morning breath stank of garlic from gourmet pickles. Already wearing his new Casio calculator watch, he flipped through the manual of the AT&T cordless phone, a gift Mabel hoped meant Y/N wanted more phone calls. The Thai script on the curry pastes was something Mabel had never seen before, but Y/N promised that if she could cook with them, anyone could figure it out. ("Just add vegetables and chicken and you're good.")

When Mabel unwrapped the present from her hubby, she recognized the logo as soon as she glimpsed the outline of a petal. She'd kept the box shut. Warmth enveloped her. He'd made her feel beautiful again, in that special way she'd reminisced. In the way that belonged to them. 

No matter what she'd confided in the mall, the moments she struggled were worth it. Still there, still hard. But she'd do her best to follow her sister's advice. Make sure to enjoy herself as a mother, a wife, and herself. 

And Dr. Sally would remain on-call.

Mabel called Ruthie to her side and spoke in her ear. Loud enough for all to hear but quiet enough to make the girl feel special. "Can you and your brothers set the table?" 

Ruthie nodded and skipped her way to the foyer. When the boys remained glued to the sofa, Ed rose with a Come On, Sons gesture. Arthur plucked a candy cane from tree, then plucked Ashley from the carpet and carried her to the kitchen.

Mabel grabbed a purple bow from the carpet, winced as she straightened, a barbel rolling from her forehead to her neck. "The next time you suggest spiking a drink, remind me to say no."

Anchoring herself on the coffee table, Y/N moved to stand. "I'll put on an extra pot of coffee." She gathered strewn wrapping paper and ribbon and crumpled them into a ball. "Make sure you take it easy when Thanksgiving and Christmas roll around."

"Ed's parents are hosting," Mabel said, and waved off her concern. With his sister stuck in Michigan this year, it'd be a smaller gathering. With his big brother around, Ed would regress to being the youngest as soon as he smelled a pie in the oven.

Arms overflowing, they padded towards the kitchen. But they lingered halfway there to bask in the magic of Not Quite Christmas. 

Ed worked around the kids, handing them plates, directing where to put them. Arthur retrieved a mixing bowl and frying pan in preparation for cinnamon French Toast, a tradition he'd brought from the Fleck household. While Ed searched the cupboards, Arthur crouched beside Ashley, who laughed at her uncle between rounds of peek-a-boo.

"You made this visit beautiful, Mabel. Mom would be proud of you." Y/N freed up an arm and hugged her at the waist. Spoke the words Mabel had longed to hear for the better part of a decade. The words that made the wheels of self-forgiveness run ten times faster. "After all these years, I think we both found what we've been looking for."

Elated, Mabel dropped the paper to the floor. "I know I have." She seized Y/N about the middle, hard enough to lift her to her toes. "I know we have."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​​​​​ @ithinkimaperson​​​​​ @sweet-nothings04​​​​​ @stephieraptorr​​​​ @rommies​​​​​ @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​​​​​ @jokerownsmysoul​​​​​ @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics​​​​​ @iartsometimes​​​​​ @fleckficgirl

[mother-liquor]

Some Sunless Sea (Chapter 1)

Pairing: captain!Hongjoong x gn!welder!reader 

Plot/Theme: After Death of The Outsider/Magical Steampunk

Warning: English is not my first language

Word Count: 1.8k

Author-note: I’m new ATINY so I don't quite grasp the concept of the group and their characters. The MC is supposedly my mute OC but I will make it as general as possible becoming Y/N.

Genre-note: It could be “Romantic or Platonic” according to your interpretations. I take a lot of details from Dishonored (video game) and inspirations from Treasure Planet (movie) settings.

Hongjoong : captain

Seonghwa : navigator

Yunho : quarter master

Yeosang : surgeon

San : gun slinger

Mingi : sail master

Wooyoung : cook

Jongho : boatswain

“The High Artificer has found a way to melt the stars.” - Yunho

"You have lost to politics." - Seonghwa

"Even though they made a discovery, they will keep them from anyone. That kept each nation from developing itself, industrially and militarily." - Yeosang

"What makes people want to reach space?" - Mingi

"We have an untouchable ocean and unexplorable continent." - Seonghwa

“It really sounds legendary but honestly I think it’s not more than a tale.” - Jongho

"There are land whales and flying serpents in Pandyssia. People will not crawl on the moon any time soon." - San

"So, we can't get this ship to fly? What if the tale is true?" - Wooyoung 

“That person must be working in restricted areas.” - Mingi

"You mean The High Artificer?" - Yunho

"Yup." - Mingi 

“We can break all the curbs and blast them.” - San

"How can we get richer than the Empire when you turn all coins into fire?!". - Wooyoung

As usual, the crew banter while Hongjoong takes his time admiring the sunset. The energy shifts between day and night. A renewal moment for the notorious pirate captain.

"Should we go for an inspection? We have already reached Gristol." - Seonghwa asks Hongjoong.

"I heard his name was Bartholomew. But I assumed he died and has been replaced by someone more proficient." - Hongjoong 

"Well a lot is happening after the young Empress rule again." - Yunho

"She is known as The Just, The Clever." - Mingi

[A while later]

"We're arriving in Potterstead." - Mingi

"I thought we are meeting the Empress in Dunwall." - Wooyoung

"Well, I shall crown you the Emperor first." - Hongjoong

[After loading in port]

"San and I will go to the black market. Seonghwa and Wooyoung will go to the fresh market. Yeosang and Yunho will go for maintenance supplies. Mingi and Jongho will go looking for extra janitors."  - Hongjoong 

"Okay time for non-sailing job." - Mingi

[At the black market]

"Hyung, are we lost?" - S

"This is exploration, San." - H

"The town looks crowded." - S

"It's a busy business port." - H

"Look, hyung, I can see the sign." - S

"Finally." - H [Rush] 

The shopkeeper is intrigued by the new faces. "Oh, welcome, how can I help you?"

Underground, Hongjoong can distinguish shabby and tidy appearance. This person seems rather natty for a black market shopkeeper (BMS).

"Yes, let me have a look." - S

After San gets some ammunities, Hongjoong notices a wristbow from the shopkeeper's sleeve.

"Can I commission the weapon on your wrist?" - H

"Sorry, Sir. This is not for sale." - BMS

"Why not?" - H

"It requires a masterwork blueprint." - BMS

"How much does it cost to make yours?" - H

"Smashing smoke, some sorcery, and special steel." - BMS

"I see, it requires delicate work and material. I will grant your price." - H

"1000 coins for a six day process." - BMS

"How about I give you 2000 so I can get it in three days?" - H

"I will try for a sneaky businessman." - BMS

Hongjoong grabs one of the shop bar, putting a gold ingot on the counter. His sudden move makes the shopkeeper study his face.

"Do you need my name for it?" - H

"Only if you want your name on the wristbow." - BMS

"You can put 'DESTINY' on it." - H

"Alright Mr. Destiny. May you always look sharp." - BMS

Sharp, Hongjoong likes that. Unfortunately, San is still concentrating on how to remember their way back to the ship and doesn't catch his captain smirking a little on the way.

"I hope we can meet again outside the Velentzas (secured shop counter bars brand)." - H in his mind

"Any good news from the streets?" - San

"A bunch of loud, affectionate, and tired men." - Seonghwa 

"The Empress has ordered the dissolution of Abbey." - Yunho

"HA??" - Wooyoung

"The High Overseer became insane and a mess showed up." - Yeosang

"What mess?" - Mingi

"After Emily Kaldwin announced the dissolution of the Abbey of the Everyman, Void rifts appeared shortly." - Seonghwa

"Void rifts?" - Wooyoung 

"A crack between two worlds." - Yunho

"That sounds like a harmless portal." - Jongho

"No, it is destroying everything in its path." - Yunho

"Wait, that means no High Overseer, no High Artificer." - Yeosang 

"They are all gone! We can't go to space!" - Wooyoung 

"Is this the end of the world? The end of Aarde?" - San

"Why is there a Void rift in the first place." - Hongjoong

"I heard from a mercenary that the Outsider is no more. " - Mingi

"How do you know that?" - Hongjoong 

"I rented her skiff. She told me to be cautious about the current situation." - Mingi

"There are dangers lurking." - Seonghwa

"This is too much fear for a short time. I need my rich sleep time." - Wooyoung 

"Why does the Isle suddenly go into pieces?" - Yunho

"It is not suddenly, it is gradually expected like the Roseburrow Industries." - Hongjoong 

From my understanding of the Empire, Dunwall holds the refining processes necessary to give whale oil its full potential. The disappearance of whale oil as a power source evokes the discovery of another type of fuel. We only see slaughterhouses in Karnaca, but no oil refinery. As I see it, the companies in Dunwall and the ruling Empress, or Emperor, before controlled the state of industrialism of each nation by keeping that science for themselves. But the whales started to become scarce around quickly, which led to a whale oil rationing by official decree by now. 

The next day, Hongjoong and Jongho went to the Estate District. 

"We're going to deliver goods for the Boyles." - H

"They're still in business?" - J

"The plague makes some of the richest getting richer." - H

(Arriving at the Estate District)

"Such a fine estuary." - J

"That's why we dress up nicely today." - H

"Why are they watching us?" - J

"High treasure, high patrol." - H

Hongjoong shows the guard his cameo with the name "EE" and a figure. The guard recognises it as Emperor Euhorn special seal.

"Let them pass." - Guard

"How did you get that thing?" - H

"A collection of my treasure." - J

Reaching the Boyle's mansion, they are welcomed by the sight of a beautiful garden, white stone building, and clean air much different from the port atmosphere. A woman in a fine suit approaches them.

"Captain Hongjoong." - Lydia 

They sit at the garden chairs.

"Lady Boyle. Thank you for the hospitality." - H

"Oh I am sorry, the house is still on preparation for a party." - L

"The Pennant Festival?" - H

"Yes. I hope it will be frolic after people recover from the plague. It has never been the same since those days. I'm sure the world will recover." - L

"I hope so." - H

"So, what can I help you with?" - L

"I come to deliver the oud wood from the Pandyssian desert. It already extracted for convenient use. Your package." - H

"Oh, thank you. I remember also to give you this." She hands a letter with the Chief of the City Watch seal, Samantha Nathaniels.

"This can make you enter Dunwall with your ship. And also this" She hands a pouch of pearls and ingots.

"I can make my mansion scented otherworldly for the party. Memorable." - L

"Thank you. We shouldn't take too much of your time." - H

"You should come in two days. I cordially invite you and your friends may come too." Lydia hands an invitation.

"Should I bring any surprises?" - H

"I heard that pirates sing sea shanties the magical way." - L

"You expect a performance." - H

"Many talented people gone, to be honest, I also wonder what kind of adventure you can bring out of the ship." - L

They excuse theirself from the mansion area.

"Let's get some stuff first." - H

"What stuff? A map?" - J

"Another blueprint and yes, a rundown map of the Festival." - H

"What kind of blueprint?" - J

"One I commissioned from The Royal Morley Constabulary." - H

"A military grade? San will be delighted." - J

(I can't interpret from the game and wiki perspective what kind of status is Lady Boyle in the story. At first, I thought they were three wives of Lord Boyle. After I learn again, they are sisters or different women, idk. But, I take their personality to my story, not accurate with the game plot.)

***

"Wait, it was a water desalination unit?" - Jongho 

"Yeah, we need fresh water." - Hongjoong 

"I thought it was a weapon or bomb." - San

"Why?" - Wooyoung 

"Because we are not spending the rest of our life with sea water for bath." - Seonghwa 

"It's time to not get stinky." - Yunho 

"It's just a fragment. We need a real engineer." - Hongjoong 

"Or we can make Wooyoung goes to engineering school." - Mingi

"But, Mingi is smart." - Wooyoung 

"Can we just extract the knowledge somewhere?" - Yeosang 

"How about everyone gets a copy and look around town so we can get a person who can actually work with it." - Hongjoong 

"I'm not going." - Mingi

"Whoever has the result first can…." - Hongjoong 

(This sentence turn on their competitive brain and all of them all gone)

***

At night, the black market shopkeeper (you) takes a stroll to a nearby tidal creek. You have made a small battery from salt water. It started with making voltameter from an industrial commission. Saltwater batteries have a lower energy density than whale oil tanks, meaning they store less energy in the same amount of space. But you decide this option is more cost efficient especially for the increasing whale scarcity and the official restrictions.

It is absolutely revolting scenery especially with the darkness and smell. You wish you could feel mountain quality fresh water. 

"Ubun-Ubun." You called your familiar ride. A magical whale shark with stars sparkling across its body. You fly to harvest some water from the clouds instead with your magic.

Gristol is a temperate land known for its rolling green hills and foggy meadows. Spending time in the air is always refreshing. Unfortunately you can't do this during the day time. People might get panicked. It feels like stealing the rain.

Neither of you or your ride sense the presence of a flying ship. Well, there are no street lights up here. You didn't notice but Hongjoong saw you. He put his spyglass down. No words, he only gazes at the sky with a wonder-struck face. 

[jjtheresidentbaby]

Little Spencer ‘Spider’ White headcanons

♡ attached to day 6 moodboard for fictionalagerechallange

notes: I ignored canon for a minute so I can do whatever I want — also this more so turned into me rambling about a fic idea I have in form of bullet points hshjsj

warnings: set in a classification au, talk of underage drinking/smoking weed, spider being insecure about his regression, swearing, his parents aren’t great, just angst tw

talk about repression. god he wouldn’t know what healthy coping is if it slapped him in the face

so so insecure about being a little to the point that he just doesn’t tell anyone — yeah this backfires…

has this whole “system” where he forces himself not to regress (even if he really needs to) until he’s alone and 100% sure that nobody’s going to bother him or risk anyone finding out

even Ant & Dusty don’t know for a while

because it all comes crashing down — as does most genius ideas Spencer gets tbh, he’s horrible at good decisions okay

but back to before anyone else finds out — his regression is kept to time alone in his room, maybe a kids movie going if he can convince himself that it won’t be the end of the world to allow himself some comfort

him hating the fact that he’s a little definitely bleeds into the times he’s actually regressed, he has a hard time relaxing fully, refuses to buy himself any little gear aside from what he already has, just lacking proper self care even more than normal

his regression is super emotional and taxing for him, which means he avoids it even more

can not stand when people make jokes about him possibly being a little — and everyone knows it so ofc they do it more

takes to drinking and smoking weed a lot heavier once he gets his classification and is hit with all that insecurity

the only backfire of this is that occasionally if he smokes too much he’ll start to slip and have to make up some excuse to either go home or drink enough to get blackout drunk and distract his mind

panics anytime another little is around him and asks him to play or really anything — people usually assume he’s just a neutral that has no idea what he’s doing

promptly ignores any speeches or comments in media or told at school about how important it is for littles to regress regularly and how not regressing can cause serious harm

he’s fine. definitely fine.

until he’s not and something happens and he’s suddenly involuntarily slipping into little space about to go into a panic attack because he’s around people and can’t leave

whoever finds him in that state deserves a gold star for weeding through his cries and mumbles to figure out what the hells going on

so sooooo resistant to having a caregiver around once he’s found out — still denies he’s a little, while he’s regressed, because yeah that’ll totally work

eventually Malakai & Amerie get him to talk about it, cause he lowkey can’t say no to either of them and they’re the most coaxing patient cg’s ever

they’re downright horrified when they find out how long he’s been going without regressing and how badly he’s been taking care of himself

Malakai almost cries seeing the pathetic 1 pacifier & sippy cup & 2 stuffed animals that Spider thinks suffices as enough little gear

the whole SLT’s group is equally as taken back by this information and promptly go on an online shopping spree to get Spider some new/better little gear

he doesn’t talk much while he’s regressed, falling more towards the baby space side of regression

clings to anyone that’ll let him once he gets over the whole ‘nah I don’t need a cg’ thing that goes on for a while

really likes sitting with Quinni and listening to her talk about Angeline of the Underworld lore — he might not understand it but he likes hearing her talk and she always has fun stickers/makeup on or little clips in her hair that he likes

has apologized a million times over for everything that he did — he’s been throughly assured that it’s okay and he’s forgiven but he still catches himself apologizing again

even once the group finds out he’s a little and he gets more comfortable in his classification there’s still times he doesn’t regress when he should or still falls into the feeling of being insecure about his regression

horrible at communicating things when small

has sat through entire conversations about Big topics™️ while small and only said something when someone asked his opinion on it — every cg in the group has tried to talk him out of the habit, it doesn’t work

practically every person he ever “hated” while big becomes his new favorite person when he’s small — he gets throughly teased for this

Sasha reluctantly lets him sit with her while she plans out whatever protest she’s going to be a part of — she’d never say it but she doesn’t find Spider that bad when he’s regressed

Harper also falls into the reluctant cg status when Spider’s small

Quinni would too if she wasn’t so forgiving and sweet, she could never be reluctant about taking care of anyone and yeah that includes Spider

Darren hates this. But they don’t take it out on Spider when he’s small as they aren’t mean but it’s definitely known when he’s big

his parents suck for a plethora of reasons but especially once he gets his classification — he doesn’t talk about it often or even acknowledge that his home life isn’t great, but sometimes when he’s regressed he’ll get triggered into crying fits over what his parents have said/done

the SLT’s group hate his parents. all of them.

if he can help it, he won’t be at home and will go to a caregivers house or find some activity to do

Ant’s parents also suck so they spend a lot of time at Malakai’s together

if Spider’s regressed and Ant’s around it is pure chaos, absolute madness, the caregivers of the group have to reign them in all the time

Malakai & Amerie are definitely Spider’s favorite caregivers and he’s shameless about it. nobody’s really surprised tho

he also clings to Dusty quite a bit

[persepor]

Let's talk about my favorite villains pt 1

Let's face it, sometimes the villains are better than the heroes or they are just as compelling as the heroes. So I want to go over some of my favorite villains which spans back to my childhood, I'll also put villains in quotation marks because some are framed as villains when they really are not (you'll see why).

So let's get into this!!

Eris

Eris is first on my list and- hoo boy! Do I love her so much. I need to re-watch this movie because the last time I saw this was when I was 8 or 9. First off she's a badass and I mean that, she has a plan and she'll do whatever it takes to make that plan work.

Eris is the goddess of discord, and she strikes a deal with Sinbad for him to get the Book of Peace for her. He backs out of the deal though, so she uses her powers to frame Sinbad for stealing the book. Sinbad must now track down the book and return it.

Eris' design reflects her personality and how she stirs up discord and chaos. She's designed as if she were simply smoke, with her form constantly shifting and being able to change her shape and grow. She can make herself tower over humans or make herself the same height as humans.

I always loved her for how she was simply herself while being an unforgettable villainess, her personality is unmatched and adds to why i love her so much.

Ramesses

If you haven't seen the Prince of Egypt please give it a watch it's really good. As someone who doesn't care about religion I feel DreamWorks struck gold with their adaptation of the story of Moses. They paint Rameses as a complicated villain with conflicting emotions.

Rameses doesn't want to let Moses' people go because he wants to uphold the legacy their family's dynasty has built. But, he wants his brother, Moses, back. This culminates in their sibling relationship shattering.

Rameses is not a black-and-white villain, he is 3 dimensional. But, he is still evil in wanting to keep the Hebrews as slaves. He is the reason all the plagues are set upon Egypt, resulting in his sons death.

Rameses is an interesting villain you'd have to watch the movie to really get what I'm saying about his character.

Ratchet and Madame Gasket

Putting these two together because they are a Mother-Son duo. Ratchet deals with things on the outside while his mother, Madame Gasket, deals with things on the inside with her chop shop. They both want to take over Big Weld Industry and the whole city.

These two are HILARIOUS, Ratchet acts as a sophisticated, well-put together person with a plan, but is actually a scared mama's boy. He has very hilarious scenes and lines, his interactions with his mother are also hilarious. One of my favorite scenes of his is the one where he knocks out Big Weld and says this: "Oh my god I'm as crazy as my mother!!....HYAH"

Madame Gasket used to terrify me as a child, and I can see why. She is ruthless in her approach while also being a doting mother to Ratchet. She collects 'Out modes' with her sweepers to turn them into metal to create new, shiny parts. She even got her husband out of the way so she can focus on her plan of taking over Big Weld Industries. A villain who will get rid of anything in their way is terrifying.

They are both defeated with Ratchet being chained up by his father and Madame Gasket being thrown into one of her machines.

Tatiana

A character that's posed as a villain but is put into that light. Yes she is wrong for Vinyl City's power outages, but she knew what kept the city going. She used to be Kul Fyra, leader of the rock group the Ghoulings.

I won't go much about her her because I want to talk about her in full but she is so well written. Am ex rock star that switched to EDM now has to deal with a musical revolution. She sees B2J's revolution as irrelevant because nothing will come of it.

As she points out they made the same amount of energy as EDM and that they went into this without a plan. They would put people out of jobs and cause a revolution from people who live EDM. She's the common sense B2J needed.

Fairy Godmother

You should not be surprised she's on here. She is an icon when it comes to DreamWorks villains. When DreamWorks villains are mentioned, she's the first one to be brought up.

She is portrayed as a caring individual but is a selfish person who wants her darling son Prince Charming to be king. She uses the fact Shrek took a potion to make him and Fiona human to her advantage. She makes Charming pretend to be Shrek so he can get closer to Fiona.

She also is a master manipulator, basically threatening the king to do what she wants him to do. She wants Shrek out of the picture because "Ogres don't get happily ever afters." She wants Fiona to have the picture perfect happily ever after married to charming.

Yes her entire scene at the ball is stunning. The red dress is so good and fits her character perfectly. The rendition of Holding Out for a Hero is absolutely a banger and is a go-to song of mine.

Iconic villain and has had a lasting impression on me.

Mother Gothel

I grew up with Morher Gothel as a character. Both her Disney and barbie version, which I'll talk a bit about here and in a dedicated post about early 2000s barbie. I love her character very dearly. We are talking about a gaslighting, manipulative person.

She kidnapped Rapunzel because of her hair, she doesn't love Rapunzel she loves her hair. Meanwhile, in the Barbie version, she's a cold, distant person who kidnapped Rapunzel as revenge. But we're focusing on the Disney version here.

She makes Rapunzel believe she loves her, makes the outside world to be dangerous, and manipulates her into thinking Flynn Rider abandoned her. She was willing to murder to keep Rapunzel's hair to herself. As all she cares about is her beauty and youth.

She is a master manipulator and an amazing villain as well.

Preminger

Ah Preminger one of the best Barbie villains. A villain with a great plan that fails miserably. A villain with hilarious scenes.

Preminger wants the crown to himself amd at first plans to marry Annaliese. But when that goes wrong, he tries to marry the queen. But that also goes wrong.

He has hilarious scenes such as him knocking on the cabin door to see if Annaliese is still locked in there. To the hilarious scene where he almost faints when finding out the princesses wedding will be next weak.

Preminger is the most loved barbie villain for a reason. He's dramatic, funny, and cunning. His sidekicks are hilarious and give a lot of laughs. His dog is also a great component of his character as he is an extension of Preminger.

End

Well that's the end of part 1, I have 4 more I'll discuss in part 2 so keep an eye out for that.

[kuroo-suno]

Hey, random question but ik you read some shoujo manga. Do you have any recommendations?

omg i sure do!! sorry if this is long i just really love shoujo ( ‘́⌣’̀) completed series are at the top and currently releasing are after, and i wrote a little about each one (though it's based on memory so it's not exactly detailed).

hopefully at least one of these is enjoyable! i've read loads more but these are some that stick out ♥

Completed:

Chorokute Kawaii Kimi ga Suki

☆ Intimidating, misunderstood sweetheart ML and an endearingly goofy and super-weak-to-romantic-gestures FL

Horimiya

☆ one of my all-time favourites UGH. FL and ML are both completely different outside of school but in vastly different ways and thanks to a chance encounter, they meet and discover that perhaps they both have a little more to offer than what's on the surface ♥♥♥♥

Kanojo ga Kawaisugite Ubaenai

☆ demon ML comes to the human world disguised as a high school student to complete a test to become the next demon lord and the FL has never had friends before and couldn't read any romantic (or warning) signs if they were printed on the inside of her eyelids. ML is also sooo weird and awkward and provides a lot of comic relief

Kawaisugiru Danshi ga Ouchi de Matteimasu

☆ FL is a star employee, but an absolute scrub once she gets home so she offers her friend/ML to live with her rent-free in exchange for his cooking and cleaning services (and to keep her from getting involved with losers)

Living no Matsunaga-san

☆ FL moves into her uncle's boarding house while her parents care for her grandmother and her roommates are quite the array of individuals, including the older ML who shows he cares by being a crabby little nag-machine

Natsuaki-kun wa Kyou mo Kokuhaku Shitai

☆ Aloof and seemingly disinterested ML (main character) pines HARD for the world's cutest girl and is desperately trying to confess

Tsubaki-chou Lonely Planet

☆ i wish i could read this for the first time again tbh. FL gets a job as a live-in housekeeper for a famous author (ML) to help pay back her dad's debts. ML is icy and distant, but FL has a heart of gold fr. This series made me laugh and cry numerous times and reading the last chapter was so bittersweet because i loved getting a conclusion but didn't want it to end yk? (from the same author as hirunaka no ryuusei and uruwashi no yoi no tsuki so no surprise it's 10/10)

Ongoing:

Daifuku-chan to Ouji-sama

☆ Small-town girl moves to the city for university (and to find new love). One of her boarding house roommates is a 10/10 but their first meeting doesn't exactly leave the best impression~

Hikaeme ni Itte mo, Kore wa Ai

☆ one of my all-time favourites?? Super school-focused, perpetually stressed FL comes across the battered and bruised delinquent ML in the rain and patches him up. He makes sure to repay the favour (insert saluting emoji here)

Kaoru Hana wa Rin to Saku

☆ modern day romeo/juliet situation except no one dies! ML and FL are from rival schools (lower-class, bad grades vs wealthy scholars) and are perceived very differently. ML is soft and sweet despite his appearance and encounters FL as a customer at his family's cake shop. She treats him differently than others have (read: like a human person) and oooooo it's so sugary!!

Super no Ura de Yani Suu Futari *technically seinen but........

☆ 45 y/o ML's only joys in life are going to the convenience store to talk to his favourite bubbly cashier and smoking out back with an edgy young woman who he's definitely more familiar with than he realizes..........

Uruwashi no Yoi no Tsuki

☆ FL presents much less feminine than her peers earning her the nickname of "prince" and she's always treated as such. But then she meets ML who is a fellow """prince""" and he sees her for who she is and appreciates her beauty both inside and out~

Yamaguchi-kun wa Warukunai

☆ FL has an unfortunate run-in with a creep on the train en route to her first day of high school and is saved by her delinquent classmate (ML). he's in everyone's bad books but the more she learns about him, the more determined she gets to change his reputation

Yubisaki to Renren

☆ FL is a deaf and lovely, but sheltered, college student and has a chance encounter with the ML, who is much more worldly and adventurous than she is annnnd cue tears fr

i almost added about 600 000 000 000 more but i'll hold back for now LOL if you have any recs or want to talk shoujo, please don't hesitate to reach out!!

[lamaisongaga]

LADY GAGA ATTENDS PRE-OSCARS EVENT IN SAINT LAURENT

Lady Gaga made a surprise appearance at the star-studded Pre-Oscars Dinner and Event hosted by Saint Laurent, NBC Universal and Vanity Fair. Unfortunately, we only saw some blurry photos of her leaving the event but that didn't stop me from tracking down her look!

It was only appropriate to wear Saint Laurent since the event was hosted by the French fashion house, and Gaga's no stranger to them.

I believe she wore the black satin crêpe gown with draped back and slit ($4,250), which she topped off with the double-breasted Le Smoking tuxedo jacket featuring an oversized fit, satin peaked lapels and padded power shoulders ($3,950).

Shop:

Saint Laurent Draped Gown ($4,250.00)

Saint Laurent "Le Smoking" Blazer ($3,950.00)

Her new bag is the Versace Spring/Summer 2024 Medusa '95 black leather clutch with gold-tone vintage-inspired hardware ($1,125).

Shop:

Versace "Medusa '95" Crossbody Bag ($1,125.00)

The Pleaser Xtreme-1020 black faux leather platform booties completed the look.

[astarab1aze]

REPOST — DON’T REBLOG. BOLD any which apply to your muse ! feel free to add to the list !

WHAT ARE YOUR MUSE’S AESTHETICS ?

COLORS — red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. violet. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. bubblegum pink. sky blue. pale jade. coral.

ELEMENTS — fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. shadows. blood. animus. divinity.

WEAPONS — fists. legs. shortsword. longsword. broadswoard. buster sword. dagger. spear. bow & arrow. crossbow. pike. hammer. twinblade. shield. poison. blowgun. bolas. guns. bats. traps. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. acid. explosives. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katana. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. claws. teeth. stealth. strategy. summoning an ally. sniping. rifles. shotguns. improvised weapons.

MATERIALS — gold. silver. copper. platinum. titanium. rose gold. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. ivory. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. feathers. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. ribbon. ink.

NATURE — grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. sunflowers. tulips. lavender. wisteria. petals. cherry blossom. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. fungi. ocean. river. frozen lake. meadow. valley. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rain forest. crystal caves. underwater. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains. snow. mist. pond. sky.

ANIMALS — lions. wolves. foxes. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. dodo. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. rabbits. penguins. praying mantises. crows. ravens. mice. lizards. werewolves. scorpions. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. ladybugs. scarabs. hummingbirds. cicadas.

FOODS &. DRINKS — sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. vodka. beer. coffee. sake. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. blackberries. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. ambrosia. eggs. milk. stew. whiskey.

HOBBIES — music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. baking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. war tactics. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. accordion. strings. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. flute. bells. exploring. tea ceremonies. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. skateboarding. motorcycle riding. car driving. eating. sleeping. climbing. running. jogging. parkour. soccer. studying. people watching. shopping. alchemy. collecting.

MISCELLANEOUS — balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. clear. candles. mystery. growth. decay. war. peace. money. power. law. percussion. justice. clocks. ballpoint pens. photos. mirrors. lighters. pets. diary. journal. fairy lights. truth. deception. madness. sanity. death. sadness. wisdom. realism. happiness. optimism. pessimism. logic. loneliness. family. friends. clan. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. poison. drugs. kindness. love. hugs. kisses. spring. summer. autumn. winter. farmland. countryside. suburban. village. metropolitan. hospitals.

[typingtess]

NCIS: Los Angeles Season 14 Rewatch:    “Sleeping Dogs”

The basics:  When several Drona subjects are attacked, NCIS is on the case.

Written by:   Andrew Bartels wrote or co-wrote "Allegiance", "Zero Days", "The Grey Man", "Humbug", "Fighting Shadows", "Driving Miss Diaz", "Angels & Daemons", "Where There’s Smoke…", "Glasnost", "Old Tricks" "Battle Scars", "Fool Me Twice", "Warrior of Peace", "Reentry", "The Prince", "Smokescreen", "The One That Got Away"/"No More Secrets" two-parter, "Yellow Jacket", "Missing Time", "If the Fates Allow", "Red Rover, Red Rover", "Divided We Fall", "Genesis" and "Survival of the Fittest".

Directed by:   Gonzalo Amat is directing his first NCIS: Los Angeles episode. 

Guest stars of note: Ava McCoy as Jordyn Rountree returns from “Perception” in season 13, Ashley Sharpe Chestnut as FBI Special Agent Summer Morehurst returns from "Let it Burn", both Kavi Ramachandran Ladnier as Agent Shyla Dahr and Duncan Campbell as Agent Castor return from “Shame”, Milissa Sears as Leah Novak returns from “Genesis” in season 13, David DeSantos as Anthony Beltran.

Our heroes:   Keep droning on about Drona.

What important things did we learn about: Callen:  In a roundabout way, asks Sam to be his best man. Sam:   In a roundabout way, says yes t being Callen’s best man. Kensi:  Absent. Deeks:   See Kensi. Fatima:  Hacks into the Drona files with Shyla. Rountree:  Willing to be shot at to protect Sam and Fatima. Kilbride:  Leaving after work to see his son.

What not so important things did we learn about: Callen:  Worshipped by Castor. Sam:   Thinks Castor getting knocked out twice in three months is a bad look. Kensi:   See Deeks. Deeks:   Absent. Fatima:   Likes Rountree with Summer. Rountree:  Runs after school buses, bad guys and through sand castles. Kilbride:   Hired Shyla because Shyla remembers everything.

Where in the world is Henrietta Lange?  Seemingly in a small town on the border of Turkey and Syria warning Drona subjects that they are in danger.

Who's down with OTP:  Kensi and Deeks are off doing family things.  Rountree and Summer seems to be doing well. 

Who's down with BrOTP:  Callen popped the question – will Sam be his best man?  Callen has a side buddy in Castor.

Fashion review:  Callen wears a green, blue and yellow plaid shirt.  A long-sleeve black tee for Sam.  Fatima wears a tan leather field coat over a black turtleneck.  A pale purple fleece sweatshirt for Rountree.  Kilbride has on a dark brown three-piece suit with a white dress shirt and a brown and gold tie. 

Music: Not today!

Any notable cut scene:  Not today!

Quote:  Shyla:  “Oh, uh, your ride to the airport just pulled up outside.” Kilbride:  “I thought I told you to cancel that flight.” Shyla:  “Did you? Oh, I-I don't remember.” Kilbride:  “You remember everything.  That's why I hired you.” Shyla:  “Do you still want me to cancel it?  Bear in mind, it is nonrefundable and I know how much you hate wasting money.  Not to mention missing an opportunity to see your son after all these years...” Kilbride:  “All right, all right, I'm leaving.  Remind me to fire you when I get back.”

Anything else:  A gentleman is out walking his dog in a small park area surrounded by businesses.  The dog, Rebel, starts barking and jumps into a bush.  Returning to his owner, Rebel gifts the man a dead squirrel, which was not on the man’s breakfast meal plan.  The man’s phone rings – it is an older, flip phone.  A text message reads “DHRISHTADYUMNA”.  The man breaks the phone in half and tosses his phone, causing Rebel to play fetch.  While the dog is away, a person wearing a ski mask shoots the dog owner in the back of the dead.  Rebel returns to his fallen owner and sits right next to him because dogs are the best.

At a table by a coffee shop, Fatima, Rountree, Jordyn and FBI Agent Summer Morehurst are chatting.  Fatima is teasing Rountree for yelling “Federal Agents” as they were trailing a suspect.  The suspect ran (because he’s obviously watched the show).  “Tree” caught the guy after a 10-minute chase.  Jordyn is all in for the Rountree mocking.  Rountree always liked to show off how fast he was.  He’d forget to give Jordyn her school lunch on purpose and then run alongside the school bus to give it to her like Keanu Reeves.  And she hated his lunches – avocados and bean sprouts.  She was 14 and didn’t want to eat that stuff back then.  Summer says she’s not interested in eating it now.  Rountree says it all worked out for the best.  Jordyn aced her MCATs and is on her way to medical school.  Summer starts mocking “Treefontaine” when she gets a call – FBI wants to see her.  Jordyn is off to class as well.

Shyla is giving a not paying attention Admiral Kilbride notice about a meeting with his British and Australian counterparts.  Still not paying attention.  She would be willing to go.  Still not paying attention.  Kensi and Deeks are out because Rosa’s aunt had a stroke.  Still not paying attention.  Office minutiae like the security system doing a reboot and Agent Castor’s performance review aren’t capturing the Admiral’s attention either.   Shyla mentions a radioactive group of pubescent turtles foiling and armed robbery at the Santa Monica Pier and nothing.  Shyla sees a suitcase and realizes that he’s flying up to San Francisco to see his son.  She will arrange transport to the airport at 7PM but he wants to leave at 7:30PM – he’s not much of an airport guy.  With spring break, Shyla recommends the earlier departure time but the Admiral promises her he’ll be fine.  Eventually he relents but warns Shyla that if he is stuck with a “posse of frat boys you will never hear the end of it.”  She thinks that would be a great story.  As Shyla leaves, the Admiral wants a BOLO on the turtles and their giant rat leader – can’t have mutant vigilantes running around.

Sam walks in to the bullpen, greeting Callen.  On Sam’s desk is a printout of a man in a tuxedo.  Callen explains it is the tuxedo Anna, sorry, he and Anna, want Sam to wear to the wedding.  Sam thinks he can dress himself.  Callen brings up Anna’s, his and Anna’s color palate for the wedding.  The tux is just for Sam.  “Is this your way of asking me to be your best man?”  Callen thought Sam being the best man was a given.  Sam’s not so sure.  Callen has been spending quality time with Castor – they had some drinks and dinner after Castor was knocked out by Miraslava.  Sam notes that Castor worships Callen, even dresses like him.  Castor arrives, dressed similarly to Callen.    Callen breaks down and asks if Sam would be his best man.  Of course, Sam replies but he hates the tux.  Callen agrees.

Shyla walks down the stairs.  Callen asks if they have a case.  She replies “you tell me” as she brings them up to Ops.  Once in Ops, she launches all the security protocols that lock the door, shut the shutters and turn down the lights.  She was sent two encrypted files through a DOD top secret/special compartmented information channel, JWICS.  The first file is the driver’s license for the man the park – John Jenkins.  He’s the CEO for a software company.  The second file is the ID card of an FBI Analyst, Patrick Hertel.  Both men were found dead that morning.  Hertel was killed in his backyard, Jenkins in the park.  There were numbers with the file – eight, 11 and 22.  Maybe August 11, 2022. 

Callen isn’t interested in figuring out what eight, 11 and 22 mean.  JWICS files are sent by known people.  Who sent the file?  Shyla doesn’t know, it came from a SCIF on the border of Turkey and Syria, the town of Al-Rai.  It was Hetty’s last known location, who else would send cryptic clues.  Shyla seems excited –“are you talking about who I think you’re talking about?”  Callen confirms – Hetty.

In the Admiral’s office, Callen makes the case that to Kilbride that the JWICS file came from Hetty.  The Admiral wants to know why she would send the names for two men and some random numbers.  It isn’t an urgent message, it is a top secret butt dial according to the Admiral.  He’s checked – the SCIF was closed months ago.  Callen thinks Hetty could have routed the JWICS through the SCIF but if she did that, why didn’t she identify herself the Admiral asks.  Maybe Hetty thinks JWICS is compromised according to Callen.  More being a pain in the ass according to Kilbride.  Callen wants to investigate the victims to see if there is anything there.  Since Hetty bailed Kilbride out with the Simon Williams case, Callen can investigate as long as he stays in his lane – stay away from the official investigations.

Fatima and Rountree show up at Hertel’s home, which is covered with police tape.  They start to work on a story to get involved with the case when they see Summer working the case.  She comes to see Rountree and Fatima, who think there is a connection between Hertel’s killing and an NCIS investigation into John Jenkins.   Summer starts asking questions and Rountree drops “national security”.  Since Rountree and Fatima can’t share their info on Jenkins, which is none other than Callen and Sam are investigating what Hetty sent, Summer can’t working with them.  When they can share, so can she.  Hertel is FBI – they’re working for one of their own.

At the park area, Callen learns from LAPD that all the cameras were down due to routine maintenance when Jenkins was walking his dog.  Callen also shares that Summer is working the Hertel case.  Sam thinks it was a robbery – no wallet, no keys, no phone and the killer took away the shell casings.  LAPD found half the phone in Rebel’s mouth.  Callen gives Shyla a call.  She has not found a link between Jenkins and Hertel yet. 

Looking into Jenkins, his start up tech company has one employee – Jenkins.  They haven’t created a product in the last five years.  Jenkins and his company have been doing very well, despite offering no products.  He’s likely laundering money.  Asked about family, Shyla tells Callen and Sam that Jenkins was adopted and his adopted parents are long dead.  Turning back to the crime scene, if the dog found one half of the phone, Sam would like to see if he could find the other half.

Back at the FBI crime scene, Rountree sees an older couple arrive and go right under the police tape.  Fatima is on the phone.  Rountree calls for Summer, who is a bit embarrassed.  She asks about the older couple – they are Hertel’s adopted parents.  An arriving Fatima, who was on the phone hears adopted and notes that Jenkins was also adopted.  Summer isn’t impressed until Fatima tells her both men were shot in the back of the head to make it look like a robbery.  Summer never told them how Hertel was killed.   NCIS is now part of the FBI crime scene.

Callen and Sam talk about Callen setting a date but Anna is giving him time to find Hetty.  Sam hopes this is the case that gets them to Hetty.  Callen doesn’t believe that.  If Hetty wanted to be found, Hetty would be found.  She would tell them where to find her.  Callen wants to get married and it is unfair to make Anna wait so long.  Sam is looking forward to his best man speech – he has a lot of wisdom to share.  Callen thinks he’s heard most of Sam’s wisdom but the wisdom is for Anna, who needs to know what she’s really getting herself into.  Callen is having second thoughts about Castor.  The dog finds the other part of the phone.

As the Admiral arrives in Ops, Shyla has an update about eight, 11 and 22.  Both Jenkins and Hertel went through the LA foster care system.  They are both single, in their 40’s and both had government jobs.  Hertel is with the FBI, Jenkins is an NSA Analyst.  He’s not in most common databases for the NSA.  Shyla learned about his NSA role through some friends in Washington.  Shyla is about to call this in to Callen and Sam but the Admiral wants her to way.  He needs her to pull some files instead. 

Hertel was watering his plants when his killer walked up behind him and fired one shot into his head.  There was no cartridges left behind, just like the Jenkins crime scene.  Summer apologizes for stonewalling NCIS.  Fatima says they would have likely done the same if the roles were reversed.  Summer doesn’t understand the connection between the two killings. 

Fatima gets a call from Shyla, who asks if Hertel has a birthmark on his back.  A little reluctantly, Fatima asks Summer to pull up Hertel’s shirt.  There is a rather large birthmark on his back.  The Admiral, with Shyla, wants her to call Callen.   When Callen answers, he starts a sit-rep for Shyla but the Admiral stops things.  Eight, 11 and 22 are people, not numbers.  Hertel and Jenkins were eight and 22 from the Drona Project, “your alma mater Agent Callen.”  Callen has a flashback to his time with Drona.

The Hertel-Jenkins cases are now joint FBI-NCIS investigations.  Shyla is told by Kilbride to share everything they have on the case except Hetty’s involvement.  Since Hetty’s involvement was speculation anyway, Shyla wasn’t going to share it.  With subjects eight and 22 accounted for, who is subject 11?  That is Leah Novak, who Callen contacted in the prior year.  Callen is trying to find Novak now.

Callen calls Leah who doesn’t want to talk to him.  She is walking through a really sketchy looking indoor parking lot.  There is a team of masked men following her.  Sam tries to get Leah to listen to him but the masked men open fire.  Shyla, who was monitoring the phone call is able to trace Leah’s location to a Mid-City parking garage. 

In the garage, Callen and Sam find an empty shopping bag with wrapped up money inside.  Callen sees a badly wounded Leah, who says “14” before losing consciousness.  

Returning to Ops, Fatima and Rountree are told by Shyla that Leah is in surgery.  With someone targeting Drona subject, Callen could be in danger.  Rountree disagrees – Hetty would have warned Callen in her JWICS communications if he was in trouble.  The Admiral arrives, warning Rountree not to read too much into anything Hetty does.  There is another Drona subject who may be danger – number 14.  The Admiral wants Shyla to cancel is flight to San Francisco to see his son.  As he leaves, Shyla tells Rountree and Fatima to go to the gadget area to study Jenkins’s phone.  When she knows who number 14 is, she’ll update them.

There was brass left behind at the Leah’s shooting which means she likely hit at least two of her assailants.  Callen found a go-bag in Leah’s car with water, MREs and a satellite phone.  She knew she was in danger.  Sam thinks the same of Jenkins – that’s likely why he tossed his phone.  Callen thinks Pembrook is behind the killings – Callen found him and is now cleaning up what’s left behind of Drona.

While Rountree is sweet talking Summer, Fatima is working on Jenkins’s phone.  Once in, Rountree is off his phone and working with Fatima.  The “DHRISHTADYUMNA” text message is the name of a Hindu warrior who killed his teacher Drona.  There are contacts in the phone – Hertel and Leah Novak are there.  So is an Anthony Beltran, a former Army Ranger turned history professor.   Fatima sends his address to Callen and Sam.

As Callen and Sam pull up outside of Beltran’s home, Beltran is putting a duffle bag into his trunk.  When Callen and Sam try to speak to Beltran, Beltran runs.  Callen makes things worse by yelling “federal agents” while Sam gets in his car to cut Beltran off.  Beltran starts shooting at Callen, who promises they are not there to hurt Beltran.  “Leah sent us.”  Beltran is talked into putting his gun down.  Callen introduces himself as Special Agent Grisha Callen, subject 17.  He assures Beltran he’s safe.

In the boat shed, Beltran is in interrogation while Callen and Sam in the main room.  The duffle bag in Beltran’s truck had MREs, cash, burner phones.  He also got the same text message sent to Jenkins before Jenkins was killed.  Callen wonders who sent the text message and Hetty earns a message.  Callen isn’t pleased – this is Hetty training an agent, people are being murdered. 

Shyla pops up on the screen.  There was one vehicle seen on security/traffic cams at the Jenkins/Hertel/Leah shootings.  Backtracking with Kaleidoscope, Shyla traced the vehicle to a building downtown. Rountree and Fatima are going to the building and Sam will meet them.  Callen wonders why he’s not going but Sam wants answers from Beltran.  Callen is the best person to get the answers.

Callen starts to question Beltran, who won’t sit on the wrong side of the table right away, wanting to stand instead.  Beltran eventually sits.  As an alibi, Beltran says he was home when Jenkins and Hertel were killed.  Callen asks about the text message.  Beltran was preparing a lesson – he teaches ancient history – and missed the message when it was sent.  Once he saw it, however, he called Leah.  Leah told him about Jenkins and Hertel.  Beltran put his phone in his garbage disposal, packed his things and was going to hit the road when Callen and Sam drove up. 

Beltran thought Callen and Sam were working for “him” – Howard Pembrook.  Beltran shows Callen scars on his arm from Pembrook’s abuse.   Jenkins, Hertel, Leah and Beltran started working together a year ago, after Callen told Leah about Pembrook.  They wanted to take him down with lawsuits.  There was talk about bringing Callen in but the men in the group were angry Callen lied to Leah.  Beltran believes Pembrook found out about them and now he’s having them killed.  Beltran wants to see Leah – they are “very close.”

With Summer’s FBI team 30-minutes out, Sam, Rountree and Fatima in tactical gear go into the downtown building.  The vehicle has not returned to the location.  This is their best chance to scope out the building.  Sam breaks down the door.  It is a warehouse with huge computer servers, a desk, file cabinets.  While Fatima and Shyla try to get into the server, Rountree finds a photo of Callen on the wall from when he was in Pembrook’s garden.

Callen shows Beltran the photo and explains he was trying to confront Pembrook about the past.  Pembrook was fine.  Beltran is interested in what was in the building where Sam, Fatima and Rountree are.  He’s also furious at Callen for going to see Pembrook.  Everything bad that’s happened started when Callen met Pembrook.  If this was true, Callen asks, why didn’t Pembrook go after him?  Beltran talks about the lawsuit being a bigger threat.  Castor appears – the doctor says Beltran can see Leah now.  In Leah’s room, she’s on a ventilator.  Beltran is holding Leah’s hand, saying Pembrook must pay.

As Fatima and Shyla get access to the server, the previously opened files pop up. There were files for black-ops missions in Crimea, Somalia and Brazil.  Pembrook is still in the game.  An audio file has Leah and Jenkins using their Drona numbers as they work on a mission.  They aren’t being targeted by Pembrook, they work for Pembrook.  Sam can’t contact Shyla to warn Callen – signal jammers knocked out the cell service.  Gunmen rush near Sam, Fatima and Rountree.  Gunfire is exchanged.  Fatima and Rountree are pinned down.

Sam is able to get Fatima and Rountree to a safer location – people are still shooting.  If they can hold out, the FBI could rescue them but Sam is more worried the FBI is walking into an ambush.  More gunfire is exchanged.  Sam takes out at least one of the shooter.

In Leah’s room, Callen gets a call from Shyla about the lost comms with Sam and company.  The Summer-led FBI team suddenly is unreachable too.  Callen is going to the building, Castor will take Beltran back to boat shed.  Beltran wants to stay with Leah.  He’s not worried about his safety, he just wants to be with her.  Callen realizes there were only three Drona subject numbers – eight, 11 and 22.  Hertel, Leah and Jenkins.  Beltran wasn’t on the list – he was never warned. 

Rountree is willing to create a diversion by running – but not in a show-offy way.  Fatima thinks he’ll get killed.  Sam assures them nobody is getting killed today.  He has a plan.

Callen has his weapon out and orders Beltran away from Leah.  Leah said 14 to Callen before losing consciousness – Beltran was 14.  Callen knocks on the door to get Castor in as back-up.  Beltran is impressed that Callen figured it all out but is more impressed with his own handy work when a Drona gunman, not Castor, walks into the hospital room.

Using some flashbangs, Sam, Fatima and Rountree move the people shooting them out of their secure locations.  Once they were seen, team NCIS shoot them.  Summer and the FBI arrive.  Sam finds the signal jammer and shuts it off, he’s quick to contact Callen.

Explaining that once again, Agent Castor is out cold, Beltran takes Callen’s gun.  Beltran doesn’t kill people who don’t deserve it – he didn’t have Castor killed, won’t kill Callen.  Callen notes that Beltran was going to kill Leah, who was in a coma in a hospital bed.  Beltran wasn’t going to kill her – she’s no longer a threat.  He just needed eyes on her to make sure.  Beltran says he and Callen are on the same side – they want to kill Pembrook.  Beltran’s partner has a sedative prepared for Callen – not going to kill Callen, just a long nap like Castor.  Callen hits the partner.  Beltran runs and after Callen gets the sedative in the leg, he runs after Beltran.  As Callen runs after Beltran, he has some Pembrook flashbacks before the sedative takes hold.  Callen is out cold and Beltran is gone.

Shyla updates Kilbride.  Callen and Castor are fine – it really was just a sedative.  Beltran and his partner are gone but the FBI are hunting them down.  Shyla also has Kilbride’s ride to the airport waiting outside of the office.  She doesn’t remember his order to cancel the flight.  Kilbride is not amused – he hired her because she never forgets anything.  She offers to cancel the flight but is non-refundable.  The Admiral hates wasting money, according to Shyla.  “Remind me to fire you when I get back.”  And the Admiral is off.

In the Armory, Fatima and Rountree are packing up their things.  Fatima asks about a story Summer started at breakfast.  Seems Rountree and Summer were having a lovely walk on the beach when the wind kicked up.  Summer’s hat went flying and Rountree went flying after it.  As he was catching up, he destroyed a kid’s sandcastle.  He got the hat back and then spent an hour helping the kid rebuild the castle.  Fatima thinks Rountree really likes Summer.  He admits he does but realizes he’s late for dinner with Summer.  He races away.

Callen is at the back balcony in the boat shed when Sam arrives.  Callen said had Beltran and he let Beltran get away.  And maybe he did it because he wants Beltran to kill Pembrook.  But if Beltran kills anyone else, well, Callen knows that’s his fault.  Sam thinks they need to find Beltran and Pembrook.  Callen wants to know how Hetty knew the Drona subjects were being targeted.  “Add it to the list,” Sam replies.  Callen is going for a drink with Castor.  Sam notes that it is the second time Castor got knocked out and lost his gun – maybe Castor shouldn’t be trusted with the wedding ring.   Callen tells Best Man Sam to knock it off.

What head canon can be formed from here:   So done with the Drona/Callen’s childhood storyline.  The program has a handful of episode left and this one and one down the road eat up valuable time with this tedious storyline.  And the episode down the road – where I will be screeching about retconning Pembrook – could have been used for more of Rountree’s history beside his sister, more of Fatima’s history period, more of Sam with Raymond, Kensi’s mom’s with Rosa.  There were other “personal history” episodes besides this nonsense.

As for the episode itself, it was really well done, if a bit talky, for a set-up episode for what comes in episode 19.  It was all about Pembrook without Pembrook physically in the episode (flashbacks don’t count).  It is still up in the air if Beltran, Leah, Jenkins and Hertel are villains or victims.  Beltran is a mess – no issue with killing Leah, Jenkins and Hertel but knockout syringes for Callen and poor Agent Castor.  The Drona drama is such a mess.

Episode number:   Episode number 16 in season 14.  This is the 318th episode overall.

[lightburnsyou]

CLASSICAL WRITER AESTHETICS

BOLD OR COLORIZE THE AESTHETICS THAT ALWAYS APPLY TO YOUR MUSE, ITALICIZE THE AESTHETICS THAT SOMETIMES APPLY TO YOUR MUSE, AND STRIKE THROUGH THE AESTHETICS THAT WILL NEVER APPLY TO YOUR MUSE.

JOHN KEATS. the lavender in sunsets, flowers in the rain, sunlight slipping through clouds, lazy summer afternoons, flickering candlelight reflecting off the gold titles of books, fireflies on a cool summer night, being wrapped in fresh bed sheets, the ache of wanting what you can never have, dripping sunlight like gold, loving someone so exquisite, soft lips and soft whispers, fingers through hair, names of lovers carved in trees, broken glass, the insistence of being perpetually dreamy.

F. SCOTT FITZGERALD. crisp winter skies with cold bright stars, mahogany wood, the solitude of an early autumn morning wrapped in fog, empty bottles on stacks and stacks of books haphazardly placed in a messy room, pale bruised arms reaching out into the darkness, cigarette smoke just barely hiding the scent of alcohol, a wall of books all poetry and old and weathered, a bad thunderstorm occurring at the end of a beautiful day, the way tragedy strikes in your heart but ends up stopping your breathing for a moment, your favorite sweater, parties spilling into four a.m. with the stars above spinning and dancing, the contrast of blood against snow, a purple split lip oozing blood, black eyes fading to blue to pale skin, the butterflies of falling in love for the first time, the statues falling apart over time in cemeteries, the romanticization of self-destruction.

FRANZ KAFKA. the weight of dread that sits heavily in your stomach when thinking about the future, decrepit houses cloaked in mystery from children telling stories of people who died there, the way not even light can escape a black hole, the rich smell of old books, delicate veins in the wrist, ghosts filling lungs, shattered bones, raindrops on the tongue, rusting metal, nostalgia that aches, the way hope feels like a plastic bag over your head.

H.P. LOVECRAFT. the anxiety felt when staring into an unknown cave, pouring rain and mud, a child’s fear of the dark, thinking so many questions about your existence as you stare at the vast expanse of never-ending ocean, the silence of three a.m., danse macabre by camille saint-saens playing on a record in an empty house, the possibility of aliens and the weird feeling it gives you that you can’t explain, unexplainable phenomena, strange lights in the sky in the night, ouija boards and urban legends.

JACK KEROUAC. the brisk pine air of being on a mountain, travels without a destination, those nights where you’re missing three hours of memory, screaming to a lifeless desert about how you’re so alive, coffee shops late at night, chocobo rides at night spent speeding and laughing in the dark, naps spent in the sun, novels highlighted and underlined with notes and epiphanies in the margins, the way uncertainty sits on the shoulders, ignoring flaws and loving life, wind through hair, depression as fog in the brain, impossible ideals, a quiet sunrise, walks alone, when you think about trying to discover all the secrets to the universe, dazzling people, open lands stretching out into infinity, falling in love with being alive.

EDGAR ALLAN POE. the ocean’s horizon inseparable from fog, hollow bones, a preserved heart held in hands, twinkling stars above an old graveyard, the way everything turns to dust, silent black birds with eyes full of wisdom, self-inflicted flames, perfection depicted as a rotting corpse, death as bricks in the heart, lips barely brushing against each other, glassy glazed eyes, biting into a lemon, heart-shaped bruises, rotting flowers on a grave, dried blood and spilled liquor, the hush of dusk when it begins raining, the intimacy of a secret.

tagged by : i found it, saved it, don't remember where tagging : anybody who sees this and thinks it looks cool

[ragedagainst]

CLASSICAL WRITER AESTHETICS

BOLD OR COLORIZE THE AESTHETICS THAT ALWAYS APPLY TO YOUR MUSE, ITALICIZE THE AESTHETICS THAT SOMETIMES APPLY TO YOUR MUSE, AND STRIKE THROUGH THE AESTHETICS THAT WILL NEVER APPLY TO YOUR MUSE.

JOHN KEATS. the lavender in sunsets, flowers in the rain, sunlight slipping through clouds, lazy summer afternoons, flickering candlelight reflecting off the gold titles of books, fireflies on a cool summer night, being wrapped in fresh bed sheets, the ache of wanting what you can never have, dripping sunlight like gold, loving someone so exquisite, soft lips and soft whispers, fingers through hair, names of lovers carved in trees, broken glass, the insistence of being perpetually dreamy.

F. SCOTT FITZGERALD. crisp winter skies with cold bright stars, mahogany wood, the solitude of an early autumn morning wrapped in fog, empty bottles on stacks and stacks of books haphazardly placed in a messy room, pale bruised arms reaching out into the darkness, cigarette smoke just barely hiding the scent of alcohol, a wall of books all poetry and old and weathered, a bad thunderstorm occurring at the end of a beautiful day, the way tragedy strikes in your heart but ends up stopping your breathing for a moment, your favorite sweater, parties spilling into four a.m. with the stars above spinning and dancing, the contrast of blood against snow, a purple split lip oozing blood, black eyes fading to blue to pale skin, the butterflies of falling in love for the first time, the statues falling apart over time in cemeteries, the romanticization of self-destruction.

FRANZ KAFKA. the weight of dread that sits heavily in your stomach when thinking about the future, decrepit houses cloaked in mystery from children telling stories of people who died there, the way not even light can escape a black hole, the rich smell of old books, delicate veins in the wrist, ghosts filling lungs, shattered bones, raindrops on the tongue, rusting metal, nostalgia that aches, the way hope feels like a plastic bag over your head.

H.P. LOVECRAFT. the anxiety felt when staring into an unknown cave, pouring rain and mud, a child’s fear of the dark, thinking so many questions about your existence as you stare at the vast expanse of never-ending ocean, the silence of three a.m., danse macabre by camille saint-saens playing on a record in an empty house, the possibility of aliens and the weird feeling it gives you that you can’t explain, unexplainable phenomena, strange lights in the sky in the dead of night, ouija boards and urban legends.

JACK KEROUAC. the brisk pine air of being on a mountain, travels without a destination, those nights where you’re missing three hours of memory, screaming to a lifeless desert about how you’re so alive, coffee shops late at night, chocobo rides at night spent speeding and laughing in the dark, naps spent in the sun, novels highlighted and underlined with notes and epiphanies in the margins, the way uncertainty sits on the shoulders, ignoring flaws and loving life, wind through hair, depression as fog in the brain, impossible ideals, a quiet sunrise, walks alone, when you think about trying to discover all the secrets to the universe, dazzling people, open lands stretching out into infinity, falling in love with being alive.

EDGAR ALLAN POE. the ocean’s horizon inseparable from fog, hollow bones, a preserved heart held in hands, twinkling stars above an old graveyard, the way everything turns to dust, silent black birds with eyes full of wisdom, self-inflicted flames, perfection depicted as a rotting corpse, death as bricks in the heart, lips barely brushing against each other, glassy glazed eyes, biting into a lemon, heart-shaped bruises, rotting flowers on a grave, dried blood and spilled liquor, the hush of dusk when it begins raining, the intimacy of a secret.

tagged : @debelltio thank you !! tagging : @chth0nia , @wtrss , @sherez , @priestbit , @guttcrson , @dweomerr ( for lei! ) , @proditeur , and you !!

[bucketkicked]

classic  novelist  aesthetics  ;  a  character  study.  traits  &  characteristics  --  bold  for  definitely  ;  italicized  for  partially.

IRENE EDITION

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍  𝐊𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒. the  lavender  in  sunsets,  flowers  in  the  rain,  sunlight  slipping  through  clouds,  lazy  summer  afternoons,  the  heavy  scent  of  musk,  flickering  candlelight  reflecting  off  the  gold  titles  of  books,  fireflies  on  a  cool  summer  night,  being  wrapped  in  fresh  bed  sheets,  the  ache  of  wanting  what  you  can  never  have,  dripping  sunlight  like  gold,  loving  someone  so  exquisite,  soft  lips  and  soft  whispers,  fingers  through  hair,  names  of  lovers  carved  in  trees,  broken  glass,  the  insistence  of  being  perpetually  dreamy.

𝐅.  𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓  𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐙𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐃.  crisp  winter  skies  with  cold  bright  stars,  mahogany  wood,  the  solitude  of  an  early  autumn  morning  wrapped  in  fog,  empty  bottles  on  stacks  and  stacks  of  books  haphazardly  placed  in  a  messy  room,  bruised  arms  reaching  out  into  the  darkness,  cigarette  smoke  just  barely  hiding  the  scent  of  alcohol,  a  wall  of  books  all  poetry  and  old  and  weathered,  the  way  tragedy  strikes  in  your  heart  but  ends  up  stopping  your  breathing  for  a  moment,  your  favorite  sweater,  parties  spilling  into  four  a.m.  with  the  stars  above  spinning  and  dancing,  the  contrast  of  blood  against  snow,  a  purple  split  lip  oozing  blood,  black  eyes  fading  to  blue  to  pale  skin,  the  butterflies  of  falling  in  love  for  the  first  time,  the  statues  falling  apart  over  time  in  cemeteries,  the  romanticization  of  self-destruction.

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐙  𝐊𝐀𝐅𝐊𝐀. the  weight  of  dread  that  sits  heavily  in  your  stomach  when  thinking  about  the  future,  decrepit  houses  cloaked  in  mystery  from  children  telling  stories  of  people  who  died  there,  the  way  not  even  light  can  escape  a  black  hole,  the  rich  smell  of  old  books,  delicate  veins  in  the  wrist,  ghosts  filling  lungs,  shattered  bones,  raindrops  on  the  tongue,  rusting  metal,  nostalgia  that  aches,  the  way  hope  feels  like  a  plastic  bag  over  your  head.

𝐇.𝐏.  𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐓.  the  anxiety  felt  when  staring  into  an  unknown  cave,  pouring  rain  and  mud,  a  child’s  fear  of  the  dark,  thinking  so  many  questions  about  your  existence  as  you  stare  at  the  vast  expanse  of  never-ending  ocean,the  silence  of  three  a.m,  ouija  boards  and  urban legends.

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊  𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐀𝐂.  the  brisk  pine  air  of  being  on  a  mountain,  travels  without  a  destination,  those  nights  where  you’re  missing  three  hours  of  memory,  screaming  to  a  lifeless  desert  about  how  you’re  so  alive,  coffee  shops  late  at  night,  car  rides  at  night  spent  speeding  and  laughing  in  the  dark,  naps  spent  in  the  sun,  novels  highlighted  and  underlined  with  notes  and  epiphanies  in  the  margins,  the  way  uncertainty  sits  on  the  shoulders,  ignoring  flaws  and  loving  life,  wind  through  hair,  depression  as  fog  in  the  brain,  impossible  ideals,  a  quiet  sunrise,  walks  alone,  when  you  think  about  trying  to  discover  all  the  secrets  to  the  universe,  dazzling  people,  open  lands  stretching  out  into  infinity,  falling  in  love  with  being  alive.

𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐀𝐑  𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍  ��𝐎𝐄.  the  ocean’s  horizon  inseparable  from  fog,  hollow  bones,  a  preserved  heart  held  in  hands,  twinkling  stars  above  an  old  graveyard,  the  way  everything  turns  to  dust,  silent  black  birds  with  eyes  full  of  wisdom,  self-inflicted  flames,  perfection  depicted  as  a  rotting  corpse,  death  as  bricks  in  the  heart, lips  barely  brushing  against  each  other,  glassy  glazed  eyes,  biting  into  a  lemon,  heart-shaped  bruises,  rotting  flowers  on  a  grave,  dried  blood  and  spilled  liquor,  the  hush  of  dusk  when  it  begins  raining,  the  intimacy  of  a  secret.