#hotel browns central

[wellourgerdes]

Brown's Hotel London

Brown’s Hotel Albemarle Street London This historic luxury hotel in the upscale Mayfair neighbourhood dates back to 1837 and has welcomed notable visitors, such as Queen Victoria. The Royal Academy of Arts is 5 minutes by foot, Green Park tube station is 6 minutes, and Bond Street’s shops are all within 9 minutes of the hotel. A luxurious hotel with chic décor, a noteworthy collection of modern…

[oneshotnewbie]

A jogger finds a phone and calls the cops. When they take it and put it into a zip back, they accidentally turn on the phone - revealing a picture of The Captain of the SVU and Reader?

Possible trigger warning: This one-shot includes the mention of blood and kidnapping, the plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

ᕚ---ᕘ

William Jacobs ran across the Brooklyn Bridge at the same time every morning, trying to beat his best time. But today he desperately thought about turning back and skipping today's sports session - the weather was playing into his cards.

Despite all the negative voices in his head, the young man ran from the Brooklyn bridge to the Manhattan Central Park and back. At this early hour there were hardly any passers-by and only occasionally a few cars drove past. As he took his first step off the bridge, he was inspired by the release of happiness hormones and increased his pace.

William loved being able to look out over the East River and let his thoughts and feelings flow freely. His black hair flowed in the wind and was dampened by the drizzle, her ragged breathing evident in the chill of dawn. When he managed halfway of his way, he was panting like never before in his life - the cold air making it harder to force enough air through his lungs. The young man felt the slight sting in his side, but did not hesitate to stop.

It was not until his head moved towards the entrance of the Central Park that he saw something blue and shimmery lying on the ground. Confused, he stopped and cautiously approached the object, peering left and right to locate other people.

Startled, he jumped back and almost stepped into the street when he saw red-brown stains around it, some of them even splattered on the cell phone he had found. William did not even hear the car behind him screeching to a stop next to him and the car door being opened with an aggressive jerk. "Are you crazy? I almost ran you over!"

But the young man did not answer the older women. She looked at the black-haired guy and saw fear and disgust on his face. His shaky fingers pointed to the main reason he stopped, which was why the woman looked confused on the ground and shortly after promptly walked back to her car in shock. "We have to alert the police." he shouted in a shrill, abnormally bright voice. The stranger nodded her head and pulled her cell phone out of the glove compartment of her red car. She quickly tapped on her phone and held it trembling against her ear.

"Emergency call center, how can I help you?" A calm voice asked on the other end of the line, beginning to type on her keyboard to find out the location of the caller. "We found a phone." she spoke anxiously, earning a sigh from the 911 agent. "Mam, you know this is not an emergency, right?"

William looked confused at the device in the old lady's hand, and in his adrenaline rush he did not quite understand why the sigh was being given. So he quickly snatched the cell phone from her and continued the conversation. "Listen. Here is a cell phone lying at the entrance to Central Park, covered in blood splatters. I also recognize an original NYPD cell phone case."

“Which entrance are you at?” the woman's low voice slowly calmed his rapidly beating heart. He took a deep breath while trying not to let his mind sink into a hole of horror scenarios. He looked around, trying to figure out which entrance he really was at. "Fifth Avenue at the Plaza Hotel,"

"Do not touch anything. I will send you a unit."

ᕚ---ᕘ

The gentle rain pattered quietly against Olivia's bedroom windows and made her open her eyes just a crack wide. Her tired gaze glowered out and a hand brushed over her face as she watched the night slowly fade away. Her attention turned to the other side of the bed, her fingers curling into the cold sheets next to her.

Her fiancée was no longer lying next to her and she sighed heavily. She usually woke up before you almost every morning, kissing along your naked spine stroking her hand with pleasure over your sides before she remained on your bare hip, waking you up for another day. Olivia loved waking up next to you since she shared a bed with you and enjoyed every minute of it. But she respected your exercise routine in the early hours of the morning and was in no way offended if she started the day without you.

The brunette tried to close her eyes for another five minutes, but quickly abandoned the idea when her cell phone rang. A little angry, she felt around on the bedside table for the annoying-sounding device and answered the call. "Lieutenant Benson?" she sighed loudly, already pulling the blanket off her body.

The brunette, half asleep, rummaged through her closet for some clothes and ran into the bathroom to get ready. "Central Park, I will be right there." When she ended the conversation, she tried to reach you on your cell phone to take you home, but her attempt came to nothing and she did not think about it any further - you had already put your phone on silent often enough to avoid being distracted.

After quickly downing a cup of coffee to wake herself up, she pulled her coat off the hook and slipped through the door into the day's events. The rain worsened on the way to the crime scene, washing every possible mess back into the sewers. When she got out, Amanda and Fin were already standing at the cordoned off area that had been created to protect the evidence from the rain. "What do we have?"

"A blood-spattered cell phone," the blonde expressed, gratefully accepting an evidence bag from another officer. She carefully placed the found object in it and handed it to her boss. "A cell phone? Why were we called?" the Sergent and the detective shrugged and raised their hands in question. "The caller thought it was a cell phone belonging to one of our colleagues, which is why we were notified because a significant amount of blood was found next to it."

Olivia nodded, looking worriedly at the phone in her hand. You had the same case around your phone, she had given it to you as a small gift. She turned it around so the screen was facing her and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the scratch on it. The brunette had almost caused the same one on your phone when she saved you from a bullet a couple months ago.

She always wanted to have it repaired but you would not let her - it was a memory for you. "Liv, are you okay?" Finn asked worriedly, watching as the color suddenly drained from his best friend's face. She nodded in response, looking back from the evidence to the paving stone. A good amount of blood that was not easy to ignore. "Yeah, it is just.."

The tough woman could not finish the sentence right away. The screen turned on on its own, showing a reminder notification on the display. Underneath you could clearly see two smiling faces smeared with light gray paint as a background image.

She recognized the image immediately. Olivia shot it herself when you were recoloring your bedroom together. Olivia swallowed hard, the phone shaking in her hands as she tried to suppress her rising panic. “It is y/n’s. It is her phone."

[obriengf]

hiya! can yous do Mitch & 6 please ?

thanks 🩷

send me a prompt for some oblivious love blurbs ✩ Notes: weirdly obsessed with his shoulders right now

MISCOMMUNICATION

Mitch Rapp was difficult to understand; signals were crossed and mixed to the point where a blur was left behind, emotions swinging left and right as they failed to settle, and looks that were longing one second before harnessing avoidance the next. You didn't know whether he was coming or going and it pulled so much harder at your heart than you ever anticipated it would. You didn't think that falling for such a man would leave you awake at night, constant thoughts running through your mind about the things he said or did - trying to analyse their meanings, trying to find even a slither of hope that there was something worthwhile there. He made butterflies flutter, but he could also make them sink. Coldness stemming from his neutral gaze had the capacity to suddenly warm and light up the space you surrounded yourself in. He would soothe any stresses you had with his undivided attention, or leave you so utterly alone to lick at your wounds in silence. Mitch Rapp was an enigma, which both hurt and healed you. And for some reason, you loved him for it. For all of it.

You were trained to be robotic; every move was calculated to an exact second, every thought confident and assured before being acted upon. Mistakes weren't just frowned upon, they were inexcusable, and a single minuscule hair out of place was enough to brand one as atrociously disreputable in the eyes of the Central Intelligence Agency. But it wasn't until you were behind closed doors and the thrill of your mission was over, that you managed to exhale out the craziness and finally be human again. The past few days had been difficult - Portugal had worn you down, and the fresh scar draped from the edge of your ribs to the crease of your hip had only just started to heal. The skin was still raw as it sported a flushed shade of pink, but the suture that had taken years to properly perfect was holding together nicely. You had difficulty moving about, and usually, it wouldn't bother you as the mission was over, but right now you'd do anything in this moment to escape your hotel room. With squinted eyes, you cringed from the raising pitch of your partner's voice - the tone booming as it chastised you. The 'blame-game' was one that you never won, and even though you tried, you couldn't even cheat your way into the winning circle. You were underneath a spotlight and you hated it, despite only the two of you occupying the temporary living space. Mitch had started, and he hadn't planned on stopping until his point got across. "Are you out of your fucking mind!?" He yelled, the small space you sat within only amplifying the delivery even more. This Mitch was the one that you often saw clouded by cold tones and closed-off personalities. It's the one that made you walk on eggshells and question everything you had said or done priorly that day. It's the one that told you what you should have done, and not praised what you had done right. This Mitch was the one that you had first met when he had been a recruit, and all of that trauma that led him to you was still buried so deep inside his tortured heart and mind. You could never tell if he was being protective of himself, or of you. He is different to the Mitch that you saw a few days ago, however. This one was scared, frozen in place as he watched a knife aim for your stomach but instead drag down your side. His eyes had grown wide with worry as you collapsed in a small puddle of your blood, and his touch was delicate and gentle as it cupped at your cheeks and told you that everything will be okay. This Mitch scooped you into his arms and took you somewhere safe, with his own hands trembling in fear. He embodied warmth and care, and for a second you swore you saw his baby-brown eyes glaze with nervous tears. You were hastily brought back to your hotel room as you heard Mitch groan loudly, his rant continuing as he overlooked how you momentarily spaced out. Your focus flicked up to him as his hands tugged roughly at his growing locks, brows furrowed and voice raspy from the exertion, "You need to be more careful! What the hell was going through your damn head!? Everything was going according to plan and you had to go rogue? Are you fucking serious?! You could've died! " "Then why didn't you just leave me there if I'm such a damn liability then, Mitch?" You were tired. He had let you rest since the mission had been completed, successfully, but in true Mitch Rapp fashion, he still had to tell you what you had done wrong. He grunted at your comment, nostrils flaring as he seemed to briefly consider whether to continue lashing out. You watched as his left hand balled into a fist, veins protruding up the back of his hand and over his wrist, as he channelled his emotions into the tension of his curled hand. The man eventually released the hold after his knuckles grew white, only to point a stern finger in your direction, "I never leave people behind. I especially would never leave you behind, don't you ever say that."

Your head shook as your tongue clicked, perplexed over his conflicting temperaments, "I don't understand what you want from me!" Your own voice rose, surprising Mitch as much as it did you as you both jumped ever so slightly. The room fell quiet for the first time since he barged through your door. The shrill of your voices had died and was instead replaced with heavy breaths and a staring contest between two sets of sad and confused eyes.

Mitch tilted his head in bewilderment, an ask for you to elaborate before you continued with an exasperated sigh, "It's always Good -Cop Bad-Cop with you. One minute, you can be the sweetest man I've ever met who would do anything to make me laugh, or smile. And then, other times y-you're just a whole different person, like all of your walls are suddenly back up and you have a fucking grudge against the world like a goddamn moody teenager!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" He was taken aback, voice leaving breathless as he took a tentative step closer to you. Not that he could pretend - Mitch knew that the hot-cold treatment was cruel, but he couldn't help it. Emotion to Mitch Rapp usually held a capacity for pure anger and revenge, but being with you allowed him to open up to many more possibilities. It terrified him, and he had been in such a slump for so long that he didn't know what to do. But he did need you, he needed his light.

"Just tell me what's going on, Mitch! Because it's so fucking hard to read you sometimes and it makes me want to tear my hair out and scream -"

"I LOVE YOU!" His voice echoed once more, the sentiment ringing through the enclosed space. Whisky-coloured hues glazed as his heart became exposed, laying out raw for you to see. Your expression harnessed shock and the lack of response made his laugh hollow and brittle. Mitch shook his head, focusing now on the scruffed toes of his shoes, "I'm in love with you. I thought you knew - "

"No, I didn't." You managed to say with whispered words, observing how the usually confident man in front of you now sank and closed in on himself. He was shutting down, drained from your fight and from the roller-coaster of the past few days. He already thought he was going to lose you when he felt the fresh warmth of your blood run through his fingers only a mere few days ago, but now, he might've just lost you as a staple in his life for good.

Silence had returned, yet it rang the loudest of anything else within that room that night. You had always expected that you'd fall for Mitch Rapp - how could you not? He had his moments of hilarity, amusing you when things got a bit dim or when mischievousness wove itself into his boredom. He held passion proudly like a medal when his interests were at play, showing just how he can truly immerse himself into hobbies or things that he liked. He was tough, both mentally and physically, and it was admirable to see how he would always stand up after being knocked down. He was also sweet when he wanted to be - even when he was raising his voice, purely exposing his protectiveness. Plus, he definitely wasn't bad to look at either.

What you didn't expect, however, was for him to have fallen for you, too.

"I hadn't even thought of loving anybody after Katrina died." His voice broke the barrier, eyes still peering down. Mitch drew a breath, his exhale shaky as he tried to gather himself, "I mean, I always seem to lose the people I love, and she was the last straw." The man cleared his throat as his hand ran back through his already teased hair, his stress evident, and he suddenly peered up at you, "Until a pain in my ass was elected my partner, and became so incredibly annoying that I began to find it endearing. Before I knew it, I was dreaming of life after all of this agent bullshit, married with kids, the whole white-picket-fence ordeal. And we were so damn happy."

A sweet smile shone his way through quivering lips and matching teary eyes. You held out your hand, desperate to have his hold ground you as Mitch's fingers slid between yours and he squeezed with complete adoration.

He licked his lips, "I'm sorry for yelling. I was just scared that I'd lose you, like I did the others. Because if anything happened to you, sweetheart, I swear - "

"You'd burn down the world?" You interjected a small chuckle from Mitch solidifying your correct choice of words.

"You have no idea just what I'd do for you." His other hand reached out to push back the small strands crowding your forehead, calloused fingertips never feeling so soft against your skin before. "I thought it'd be easier to shut you out, if I'm being honest... If I didn't love you, then it wouldn't hurt. But let's be fucking real, that's just impossible."

Pieces fell into place with perfect precision the moment your arms secured around his neck, your nose pushed into his shoulder, and his grip securing tightly around your waist. This moment was one filled with clarity and understanding, a mutual passion that cleared the air and prompted harmonising beats of hearts against two flushed chests.

"I bet it'd be even more impossible, since I love you, too." Your voice muffled against the worn cotton of his shirt, but Mitch heard you. His shoulders sunk in comfort, arms tightening even more, and the light of his life growing brighter with each and every passing second.

[callmearcturus]

okay someone asked for my PT AU playlist and I realized it was MESS so i just cleaned it up and rearranged the songs for chronological order

"The Rifle's Spiral" The Shins STOPGAP. OXFORD. CIRCUMVENT.

"Move" Saint Hotel MISSTEP. RUSSIAN BLUE. PRECARIOUS.

"Mind Over Matter (Reprise)" Young the Giant BERGAMOT. WINTERDYE. OVERCOME.

"Send Them Off!" Bastille TESTRUN. CARMINE. UNDERTOW.

"Weird Goodbyes" The National, Bon Iver UNMOORED. FIX. GHOST.

"Obsessions" Marina and the Diamonds PILE. POSTCARD. APOLOGY.

"You've Haunted Me All My Life" Death Cab For Cutie TIME-SERVED. SOUVENIR. APOLOGY.

"Call Me In the Afternoon" Half Moon Run COWLICK. LIBRARY. OVERWATCH.

"Crown of Love" Arcade Fire TRESPASS. CAMPHOR. COMMITMENT.

"How Much More" Stars WINGMAN. CROSSHATCH. FAREWELL.

"Flower Drum Song" Cold War Kids HUNTED. SHADOW. ROGUE.

"Silver Platters" Les Gold RICOCHET. STRUNG-OUT. VIVERE PERICOLOSO. (Benji)

"The Ghost Of You Lingers" Spoon RICOCHET. STRUNG-OUT. VIVERE PERICOLOSO. (Ethan)

"Opalite" Martin Luke Brown SAFE. DELILAH. INJECTION.

"Run Run Blood" Phantogram SCIF. RENDEZVOUS. TORUS.

"Where Is Her Head" The National OXYGENATION. GAIT. CONTINGENCY.

"Holy Rider" Rock Plaza Central DROWN. ENOUGH. RED-BOX.

"Uptight (Everything's Alright) Stevie Wonder METAMORPHOSIS. VULNERABILITY. JOYRIDE.

"The Silence" Bastille [REDACTED, Chapter 36]

"Goliath" Kithkin [REDACTED, Chapter 37]

"The Changing Lights" Broken Bells [REDACTED, Chapter 39]

"Pompeii MMXXIII" Bastille, Hans Zimmer [REDACTED, Chapter 40]

"WhisperI'lllistentohearit" Spoon [REDACTED, Chapter 41]

"Do I Have To Talk You Into It?" Spoon [REDACTED, The End]

[demonsandpieohmy]

My first entry for the @goodomensafterdark smut war 😊 read on ao3

Thank you so much to my betas @southernfriedamy and @kneelbeforeyourdogbabylon ❤️❤️

While on a trip across the pond, Crowley invites Aziraphale up to his hotel room for some stargazing.

Rated E, 2.3k words

Aziraphale went to turn on a light switch, but Crowley grabbed his hand to stop him.

“Wait. Look.”

Crowley crossed the room and threw open the curtains, and Aziraphale gasped. Through the wide window he could see the whole of Manhattan laid out below. Central Park was an inky black space dotted by soft yellow patches, and the rest of the island a bright and beautiful array of twinkling red, blue and green lights.

“It’s funny,” Crowley said. “They generate so much artificial light it blots out the stars, but then they create their own constellations down here.”

In the dim scattered light, the harsh lines on Crowley’s face were softened as he gazed out over the city with almost childlike wonder. Aziraphale couldn’t take his eyes off him. And when Crowley turned his face toward him, he didn’t look away.

They’d done this twice before. Once right after the garden, two very naïve and very curious immortals trying out their new biology. That one was easier to write off as a mistake, there were no rules about that sort of thing back then, Aziraphale didn’t know what he was and wasn’t permitted to do with his body. What behavior would or wouldn’t be punished.

The second time would have been much harder to explain away if he was caught. It was a rushed, desperate thing, and Aziraphale was out the door before Crowley could even pull his toga back down. They never spoke of it, and they never again ordered oysters while out to dinner.

Aziraphale leaned in closer. “Crowley…”

“Angel.” Crowley softly brushed his hand across his cheek and Aziraphale shivered at the contact. He reached up to cover Crowley’s hand with his own.

Neither of them moved. They stayed like that, breathing softly in the narrow space between them, staring into each other’s eyes. Aziraphale searched for the voice that had scared him off in the past, but it wasn’t there. Not tonight. Not with Crowley’s eyes in a shadow so deep they were almost brown.

Here in the dark, he could pretend that it was just the two of them, alone in their own little universe.

[mayhem-neverending]

As the Pendulum Swings

Hello! This is an active work that I was only posting on AO3, but thought it might be nice to share it here, too.

Gojo x reader, Geto x reader

Summary: As it turns out, Cursed Energy is not the only energy humans can manipulate. A foreign teacher turns the lives of her new coworkers and students upside down in the best ways possible - and completely by accident.

Word Count: 2,185

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, sexual themes, cursing, explicit content

Note: This is not a poly!fic, sorry. It will move between both Gojo and Geto.

The words spoken in English will be written in bold.

And the idea for this was very very very loosely based/inspired by the work of Carlos Castaneda and Dr. Joe Dispenza. Like, very loosely.

Hot blood seeped out of the large gash in your side and through your white shirt that had been wrapped tightly around your middle. It dripped to the ground between Nanami’s fingers, leaving a breadcrumb trail along the length of the hallway. You were nearly unconscious, your body fighting to keep from slipping into shock with every shallow breath you took. Nanami didn’t say a word as he kicked the door open and blinded you with bright white fluorescent lights. You hardly felt yourself being jostled when he set you down on a cold, hard surface.

The blood loss made it hard to register anything but dizziness and pain. The world appeared to you in a carousel of blurry colors and shadows and a loud ringing in your ears. You weren’t sure how much time passed when the world stopped spinning. Blinking up at the bright ceiling, you waited for it to tilt, but nothing happened. You mentally scanned your body and felt some sort of energy coursing through you, almost like electricity, centralized at the wound.

You turned your head to the right, and your eyes connected with soft brown ones. The woman smiled politely at you, and you followed her smile down her arms and to her hands that were placed over your wound, drying blood staining her fingertips. You vaguely took note that you were only in your sports bra. You followed the path back up to her face, your brain lagging behind as you tried to connect the dots.

“Hey,” the woman said softly. “Do you remember how you got here?”

Your head lolled back to center, and your eyes focused on a tile between two overhead lights. Brows furrowing, you tried to think back. How did I get here?

…

The day was unusually hot for September, with the temperature hitting the nineties and the humidity so high it was suffocating. It was the end of your third day teaching English at a junior high school in Tokyo, and you were leaving the school.

Your white button down stuck to your skin in the heat, and you pulled at your collar for some relief while you walked behind a group of kids to a nearby convenience store. The children seemed to be enjoying your class, despite their early teenage attitudes, so you felt like treating yourself to a popsicle before walking back to your hotel. You would spend your afternoon reviewing lesson plans for the next day before apartment hunting online, just as you had the past two days. You smiled a little to yourself, happy that you made the choice to teach abroad and learn about the world. It was almost inconceivable that you had made it this far, and for that you were proud.

You reached into the satchel slung over your shoulder for your phone. While digging around for it, a distinct lack of folders became all too apparent. You stopped on the sidewalk to take a thorough look at your bag, only to find your lesson plans missing. Sighing and shaking your head, you turned on your heel and headed back to the school. As you made your way upstairs to your second floor classroom, an intense feeling of dread washed over you. You paused mid step and felt the on the back of your neck rise. An involuntary shiver ran down your spin as you took the next step.

What the fuck is this?

You tried to brush off the feeling while scanning the area with squinted eyes. After a few seconds, you noticed a sort of purple haze - if that was the right word for it - floating around the top of the stairs. Apprehension flooded your system at the strange phenomena, but you needed your lesson plans, so you continued up the stairs. You took them two steps at a time, then took a right at the top. The purple haze was more concentrated at the end of the hall, and you felt a small sense of gratitude that your class was only three doors down.

You sprinted towards it, pulling your key out while doing so. You shoved your key into the lock and flung the door open. You slipped inside and shut it tightly behind you before scurrying to your desk. All of the papers were in their folders, so you shoved them in your satchel with shaky hands. Your ears perked at what sounded like loud shuffling towards the end of the hallway where the haze was. A sense of foreboding churned your gut and had your heart galloping in your chest. You listened closely to the noise, planning your escape for when it went quiet. After a couple tense minutes, it stopped, and you held your breath.

Maybe it was just a couple kids lagging behind and you were just acting crazy. That was plausible. Sighing out, you reluctantly stepped towards the door. Your feet felt like lead; you lifted them at a staggered pace, willing your body towards the wooden door. Once there, you took a running stance, muscles tensed to dart out the minute it was opened. You took the handle of the door and counted to three, telling yourself the whole time that you were overreacting.

On three, you ripped the door open and before you could even take a step, you were stopped dead in your tracks. What you saw was something you could never have prepared yourself for. A large, fleshy mass towered over you; it was covered in unblinking, bloodshot eyes and had at least three arms. Your blood ran cold and you made to scream, but no sound came out of your opened mouth.

It made a terrible warbling shriek that punctured the air and had you covering your ears. All of its eyes looked at you in what you could only describe as sinister amusement as it repeated the sound. You could hardly comprehend what was happening until it was two feet away from you. You hadn’t even seen it moving and now it was within arms reach.

Heavy thudding footsteps sounded from the stairs and a tiny bit of relief washed over you. Help is here. You thought. One of the arms reached out for you, but it stopped suddenly a few inches from your face. You gasped at the white-gold aura surrounding you. You had forgotten about that in the heat of the moment- you hadn’t even meant to activate it. It made an angry warbling that was cut short when a blade cut the beast in half.

You looked up at a tall blond man wearing some sort of protective goggles. He nodded to you, stepping over chunks of the creature. “Are you alright?” It took you a moment to find your voice. “What the fuck was that?”

His features changed minutely to indicate mild surprise. “Do you speak Japanese?”

You looked up at him with confusion before it clicked. “Oh, yes, sorry. I was asking what that was,”

“A curse. I’m surprised you can see it,” The man gave you a once-over with his eyes that made you feel as though he was looking right through you.

“What’s a curse, uh.. what‘s your name?”

“Nanami. A curse is-” He was interrupted by a massive rumbling that shook the building.

Cracks formed along the floor and walls and the hallway started to crumble as a massive Curse splintered through the floor. It immediately set its eyes on Nanami, and its hand came crashing down. It caused everything beneath your feet to come undone, and you fell through onto a new pile of rubble, a scream ripping from your throat as your side connected with a splintered joist.

You watched Nanami run up the Curse’s arm and use his wrapped blade to kill the damned thing while dark spots began clouding your vision. The rest was blurry, your mind fuzzy from pain while you were carried out of the rubble to who knows where.

You turned your head to look at the woman again. “Yeah, yeah I do,” you said hoarsely.

“Where am I?”

The woman gave you that same polite smile. “Jujutsu High. Before you ask, I’m kind of like the nurse here,”

You nodded once. Turning your head to the left, you saw that the blond man - Nanami, if you remembered correctly - was sitting on a metal chair against the wall, his arms crossed and gaze trained on you. His body language was closed off, and you wished you knew what he was thinking.

“I’m Ieiri Shoko, by the way. You are?”

“L/n y/n,” After a few moments of silence you asked, “How much of the school was destroyed?”

Nanami cleared his throat. “More than half. Another curse appeared shortly after you fell,”

Your mind was reeling from what had just happened, but a clear thought broke in to add to the gnawing anxiety pooling in your stomach. I’m likely out of a job. You were in Japan under a work permit to teach English as a second language, and you were expected to maintain your position if you didn’t want to be booted back to the states. In all reality, even if you wanted, you’d end up broke from the plane ticket home.

You brought a hand up to your face, tremors still running through it from your blood loss. “Shit,"

You watched Nanami open his mouth, but he was interrupted by the metal doors to the room banging open. A tall man with white hair and a black blindfold waltzed into the room, a wide smile adorning his face.

Nanami inhaled and grumbled, “Gojo,”

Ieiri took her hands from your side and slowly helped you to sit up, one hand on your back and the other gripping your hand. The tall man, Gojo, said, “Ah, Nanami, I heard that one was a grade higher than we anticipated,”

Nanami only nodded, a piece of his blond hair falling gracefully across his forehead. Gojo clapped his hands rather loudly and turned on his heel. He smiled in your direction and enthusiastically asked, “And who is this?”

You waved a little awkwardly, unsure if he could actually see you under that blindfold.

Nanami spoke for you. “This is L/n Y/n, a school teacher that got caught up with the Curse,”

Gojo took a step closer, his hands finding a place in his black pants pockets. “Oh? What do you teach?”

“English… though I’m not sure I’ll have a job after what just happened,”

He made a strangled noise in his throat. Before you could blink he was suddenly right in front of you, making you lean back and nearly gasp. He put his hands to his cheeks and hovered uncomfortably close to you, completely invading your personal space.

“Your accent is so cute!” he gushed.

“Uhm, thank you?” you leaned even further back.

Ieiri stepped in and pushed Gojo back with a firm hand against his chest. You shot her a grateful look and the corner of her lips twitched up.

“You’re a grown man, Gojo, you should know better than to invade someone’s personal space like that,”

He shrugged. “My bad,”

She shook her head at him and he waved her off. He held out a hand for you to shake, which you reciprocated. His large hand engulfed your own, and he said, “Cute!” to himself.

“Gojo Satoru,”

“Pleasure to meet you,”

Ieiri walked off and came back with a damp rag to wipe the blood from your side. You watched her and were shocked that there wasn’t a single mark left where your gaping injury had been. Gojo watched you curiously as you ran your fingers over the brand new skin.

“How?”

“It’s my reversed curse technique,” She said with a shrug, as if you knew anything about that.

She walked off without another word and you looked back to the man who was staring intently at you, bordering being in your personal space again. “You know,”

You raised a brow. “I’ve not really formally learned English,”

“I’m thinking-”

“That’s never a good idea,” Nanami interjected from behind him, now out of his seat.

He whipped his head around. “Rude!”

Looking back at you and leaning in, he said, “You should come teach here, since your school was blown up! I bet the students and the teachers could benefit, right Nanami?”

Nanami’s expression remained neutral as he said, “It could be,”

You glanced between the two men. You were feeling overwhelmed at everything that had happened in the last couple hours, and you didn’t know if this Gojo Satoru was helping or making it worse. You decided to just keep your mouth shut; your mind was running too wildly for your tongue to keep up.

“You can see Curses, right?” He asked you.

The way he inspected you behind the blindfold sent a shiver down your spine. You only nodded in response. He stood up straight and clapped his hands together once again. “You stay here, I’ll go talk to Yaga,”

“Gojo,” Nanami called, but the man was already halfway out the door.

[anonsally]

Day 2 in Chile: Birding along the central coast

After a decent night's sleep, we got up early this morning for our birding tour. The guide and a driver picked us up at 8am and we had an epic day of birding! It was cold but mostly sunny, so not as cold as yesterday except when it was very windy. The guide told us that this is one of the best times of year to visit Chile, bird-wise, because a lot of birds that breed further south migrate here in the winter... as do a lot of birds who breed further north!

We did spend a lot of the day in the car in between birding, but that was fine actually as it gave Wife (who is an introvert) a break from interacting and it also meant less time in the sun and wind. And we saw lots of birds, nearly all of which were new for me.

The guide hasn't shared the eBird list with me yet so I'm sure I won't remember everything, but here's what I remember (not chronologically, and I've tried to put my favorites near the top, but not really in order and they were all exciting in one way or another):

Humboldt penguins! We were pretty lucky; I think there were about 30 of them hanging out on a small island preserve very close to the beach.

Inca terns. These were very beautiful and unusual-looking terns, dark grey with long white whiskers and red beaks, with a yellow spot at the base, and red feet.

Grey gulls starting to get their breeding plumage. I thought these were very cute, elegant gulls.

A giant hummingbird. Which... is not an exaggeration. It was enormous. Too big to hover. But clearly hummingbird shaped. Totally incongruous!

Tufted tit-tyrant. (The Tufted Tit-Tyrants is my new band.) Probably one of the cutest birds I've ever seen.

Peruvian boobies

Peruvian pelicans--not too different from the brown pelicans we see at home, but larger.

Three kinds of cormorant: Most were neotropic cormorants, but we also saw a couple of guanay cormorants, and several of the very beautiful red-legged cormorant.

Southern lapwings. Kind of a patchwork pattern of coloration.

Two rufous-chested dotterels, one of which was getting its breeding plumage.

Three kinds of cinclodes: gray-flanked (which breed in the Andes but winter on rocky beaches), seaside (larger), and (I think?) buff-winged.

Two kinds of oystercatchers: blackish and American (I don't think I'd seen the American kind before; the ones in California are black oystercatchers).

Yellow-billed pintails

Yellow-billed teals

Diuca finches

Lake duck (similar to a ruddy duck)

Rufous-collared sparrows (apparently more common than house sparrows in Chile, and infinitely cuter!)

Coscoroba swans, which looked less mean and more friendly than our usual swans

red-gartered coots

Great shrike-tyrants

Long-tailed meadowlark. Startlingly red face and front.

Chimango caracaras, which were the raptors I'd seen on the way from the airport. Apparently there are no corvids here, but these fill that ecological niche. We saw two of them eating a dead meadowlark.

Dusky tapaculo. The guide made limited use of playback in the one foresty stop. This bird is very shy but we did manage to get a decent view of it.

Variable hawk.

Harris's hawk

Great grebes

White-tufted grebes

Brown-hooded gulls

Chilean mockingbirds

Two kinds of swallows: blue-and-white and Chilean

Chiloe wigeons

black vultures

a rufous-tailed plantcutter

Austral thrushes

Austral blackbirds

We also saw sea lions and a couple of otters!

We had them drop us off at a restaurant in Viña Del Mar, which saved them some driving and meant we could try a restaurant we were interested in. We drank Pisco sours (a great cocktail!) and--as usual--ordered too much food. Then we managed to get a bus back to Valparaíso and had a steep walk back up to the hotel, as the funiculars don't run late.

[jonnyparable]

Siheyuan 四合院

The sprawling traditional Chinese courtyard home, known as the Siheyuan features several buildings built around a series of courtyards.

The main door of the Siheyuan is usually located in the lower south corner of the house, and opens to a forecourt that leads to another centrally located doorway that leads to the house proper. This stops passersby from being able to look into the main spaces of the house.

This property, known as the Austere Official's Home, has been restored and given a modern facelift, while still in keeping to its classical roots. Much of the home's layout is based on ancient beliefs of how energy moves in a space, while the overall home itself represents the Chinese obsession with walled spaces, with a Siheyuan often consisting of walls within walls of walled yards, gardens and liminal spaces, connected by a covered walkway.

Contemporary Chinese interior design is a fascinating design niche, that can draw on design principles and material use anywhere from the Qing to the Han Dynasty, and Chinese aesthetics can be anywhere from ostentatious and overwhelming to refined and restrained.

Many associate Chinese interior aesthetics with red lacquer, silk furnishings, whimsical carpentry and gilded surfaces in excess but more often than not, classical Chinese interiors are more likely to feature more sedate tones of dark grey, black and deep brown, with hardwood furnishings in clear lacquer, with grey brick walls. or white plaster walls, as well as stone floors and granite paved exterior spaces.

The Austere Official's Home's makeover is based on a popular movement in Chinese interior design that draws on more consistent and refined use of materials and colours, with a recognisably Chinese aesthetic, while incorporating more contemporary ideas on the usage of space. A style popular with hotels in particular, being fairly accessible to international palettes while still being "Chinese" in feel.

Many Siheyuans require a lot of retro fitting and renovation to match our modern use of interiors, however. For instance, classical Chinese homes did not have living rooms, or dining rooms, or in fact, rooms at all. Chinese architecture typically does not rely on load bearing walls to support the structure, and as such, do not have the division of space seen in Western builds. Chinese spaces are therefore riddled with supporting wooden columns, which are joined by dividing screens and folding doors that create the "rooms" of a building, with the whole carpentry being held down by a wonderfully heavy and graceful roof. This actually makes them fairly earthquake resistant structures.

Typically this means a building in the Siheyuan is all encompassing in its function. It features a bedchamber, a study and a reception hall. Things like dining and ablutions are restricted to furniture and wherever they are placed. How this translates into a modern restored interior is interesting. For this build, much like a shell challenge I kept the structural pillars intact, while moving around the divider walls to reconfigure the space, while buildings can now be repurposed to house the rooms modern inhabitants would need.

Thank you for reading! 谢谢

[japari-park-companion]

Japari Library’s labeled edit.

Two Kemono Friends 3-era Japari Park maps. The first directly from the game. The second is edited to contain each known area name.

The contents of these regions go as follows: 

Central.

At the bottom of the main island, Park Central can be described as an equivalent to Japan's Kanto Region, whereas its identically named capital stands as an answer to Tokyo. The region is known for its green, forested scenery, while the capital resembles a huge circular theme park surrounded by a large wall. With rides like Ferris wheels, structures like the Kemono Hospital, and attractions like the Japari Park Pavilion and vast Kemono Castle. This castle was once occupied by the original mobile game's antagonist, the Cellien Queen, resulting in destruction lasting until Kemono Friends 3.

According to the fan-site Japari Library, by the time of Kemono Friends 2, around Park Central was the Azura Park bamboo grove, the cruise-able coastal aquatic Marine Life Park, densely tree-covered Jungle Park with a nearby research lab, the scorching cactus-strewn tropical savanna South Maerica Park, and the whale-shaped Japari Hotel, all connected to the Japari Line monorail service, still under construction around early Kemono Friends 3.

Sankai Region.

Occasionally described as the Desert Area, Sankai is a part of the main island to the left of Park Central, acting as an equivalent to Japan's Kansai Region. The region is home to various sprawling caves and known for its harsh deserts. Notable locations include Oasis No. 1, the region's primary water source, and an expansive underground shopping mall called the Odyssey, where despair fell upon in Kemono Friends 3. during Kemono Friends 3. There was also a Japari Museum, which served as a warehouse.

Nakabe Region.

Occasionally described as the Waterfront, Nakabe is part of the main island above Park Central, acting as an equivalent to Japan's Chubu Region. The region is known for its swamped browns and greens. Notable locations include the renowned Amatatsu Waterfall and the nearby mechanized "Undine" water treatment plant in Serenity Jungle. It is most known for the extensive concert venue located inside the region.

Rikuhoku Region.

Little is known about the Rikuhoku Region, aside from being a part of the main island. On the map, Rikuhoku is located near green mountains.

An'in Region.

Occasionally described as the Jungle or Forest Area, An'in is the farthest left of the main island, acting as an equivalent to Japan's San-in Region. The region is known for its sometimes mountainous, other times densely forested, and infrequently open green jungle scenery. Notable locations include the vital An'in Ferry Terminal and the Japari Park Security and Research Team headquarters. In Season 3 of Kemono Friends 3, the ferry terminal is notable for being the site of the first long-term guest to Japari Park, Hikari.

Anyo Region.

Little is known about the Rikuhoku Region, aside from being a part of the main island. On the map, Anyo is located near An'in.

Hōtoku Region.

Occasionally described as the Sky Area, Hōtoku is the farthest right of the main island, acting as an equivalent to Japan's Tohoku Region. The region is known for its often cloudy, broad, and green high mountains. Notable locations include sites for holding sky races. It is frequently known as the Sea of Clouds by inhabitants and visitors alike.

Gokoku Region.

Gokoku is one of the closest of the smaller islands. It is located to the left of the mainland shores of the An'in Region, acting as an equivalent to Japan's Shikoku region. The region is known for its varied climates, sometimes mountainous, occasionally cavernous, and largely green scenery, with lush forests that were the most common in Kemono Friends 3. Notable locations include sites for art festivals, sites for producing independent films, and the presumed headquarters of the Japari Park Guard Team. Due to the archipelago's positioning, in Chapter 4 of Cellval's Campaign in Kemono Friends 3, it is presumably the site of the Chinatown-Esque Japari Night Market.

Kyōshū Region.

Directly below the island of Gokoku and the left mainland shores of the An'in Region, Kyōshū can be described as an equivalent to Japan's Kyūshū Region. During the time of the original mobile game, Kyōshū was well known for being a collection of mild grasslands. But by the time of the anime, Sandstar had morphed and split the region into at least ten to eleven or more distinct climates to surround the colossal Sandstar Volcano. Notable splits include the Savanna Area, Jungle Area, High Mountain Area, Desert Area, Waterfront, Plains Area, Forest Area, Snowy Mountains, Ocean Area, Tropics Area, and volcano outskirts.

Notable locations include the Savanna Area Mountaintop Watering Hole, Savanna Area Gate to the Jungle Area, Jungle Area Tour Walkaway, Jungle Area An'in Bridge, High Mountain Area Mountaintop Japari Café, Desert Area Underground Roadside Tunnel, Desert Area Underground Labyrinth, Waterfront Lake Shore, Plains Area Castle, and Dojo, Forest Area Japari Library, Waterfront Concert Venue, Snowy Mountain Hot Springs, the on the way from the Snowy Mountains Hinode Port Lodge, far-off Amusement Park, and finally the volcano itself. In Gen 2, a High Mountain Japari Cabin stood before the anime's Japari Café. The location of the original mobile game's is currently not recorded.

Akushima Region.

Directly to the right of the island region of Kyōshū and below the in-between of Park Central and the Sankai Region, not much is known about the Akushima Region. On the map, Akushima is the smallest island and has green scenery. In the original mobile game, there were some forests with large trees, a few mountains, and an open shore.

Riukiu Region.

To the lower left of the island of the Akushima Region and below the mainland shores of Park Central, the Riukiu Region can be described as an equivalent to Japan's Ryukyu Region. The region is known for its palm tree full climate and tropical sandy scenery. Notable locations include Riukiu Aquarium, the Starry Sky Data Library, a Japari Café, and the Shiserval Dojo. By at least Kemono Friends Festival, similar to Kyōshū, Riukiu is home to splits of its own. These eight are a Tropics Area, beach-filled Ocean Area, shipwreck scattered droughted Desert Area, Jungle Area, High Mountain Area, Lake Shore, Snowy Mountains Area, and Savanna Area.

Hokkai Region.

Occasionally described as the Snowfield Area, Hokkai is one of the closest of the smaller islands. To the right mainland shores of the Hōtoku Region, the Hokkai Region can be described as an equivalent to Japan's Hokkaido Region. The region is known for its harsh tundra climates with frozen-over huddles of water, scattered hot springs, and mountain scenery. Notable locations include the Tsubekuri Snowfield, various cabins, and one significant Hot Spring near a Sandstar Volcano.

[fionacle]

In English class class last year I had a ‘Saving Holden Essay’ (short story) where I had to write Holden from The Catcher in the Rye meeting me and I help him work through stuff. Throughout the book I’d felt a strong connection to Holden, plus I was excited to try out the informal writing style, so it’s easily one of my favorite writing projects I’ve ever done. Decided to turn it into a Y/N thing for you guys because maybe others like him too, and even though I’m not romantically attracted to him, apparently a lot of people at my school have been, so if you interpret it that way I can offer some food to a crush that I assume doesn’t get too much content (I’ll google after I post this). Unfortunately me being (outwardly anyway) a girl is important to how Holden acts towards the reader (originally me), so it’s not gender-neutral.

In the first draft I had me keep refusing to accept his help because stranger danger, but then his continued insistence made him too much of a creep and 1. That sucks he deserves better and no one wants to read that and 2. How the hell is that supposed to transition into me helping him?? So help accepted.

Anyway, story under the cut :) (and yes the first couple sentences are taken straight from the book)

I didn’t know where the hell to go. I didn’t want to go to another hotel and spend all Phoebe’s dough. So finally all I did was I walked over to Lexington and took the subway down to Grand Central. My bags were there and all, and I figured I’d sleep in that crazy waiting room where all the benches are. And I woulda done it too. But on the way, I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I walked right into this girl.

We didn’t fall on top of each other or anything, like they do in the movies. Where the guy lands on the girl with his hands next to her shoulders. And it takes them a second to realize what happened. But then they see they’re in this real perverted position, and they get up all flustered and embarrassed. No, it was nothing like that. The girl just kinda dropped what she was holding on the floor, and started saying she was sorry over and over while she picked up her things. I told her it was fine, and figured I outta help her out, so I bent over and started picking them up too. I looked at her and noticed she was pretty pale, and had scabs and bumps all over her damn face, though not as bad as Ackley’s. Her hair was short and brown, and kinda messy, but she didn’t look half bad. I half expected we’d grab a book or something at the same time and accidentally touch hands, then she’d look away all shy, and I’d take her out to coffee to apologize. The goddamn movies, they’ll ruin you.

All the stuff had been picked up, so we stood, and she looked at me, probably expecting me to hand her her things. But I felt weird letting a girl carry all this on her own. “Let me carry it for you, where you heading?” You could tell by the look on her face that she wanted to accept the help, but didn’t want to seem rude. That killed me. “Oh, no. It’s no problem, really. I can handle it myself.” “I insist. Come on, where you heading?” I took a step closer, and she looked like was getting a little uncomfortable, but I didn’t really feel like stepping away. “Where you heading?” “Just going home after visiting a friend. Her apartment isn’t too far from here.” “I’ll come with you, got nothing else to do.” “Well, I mean, if you don’t mind.” She killed me, she really did.

We started walking down the road away from the waiting room, and there was a while where neither of us talked. I think we both wanted to say something, but there’s a point when you’ve said nothing for so long that breaking the silence starts to feel like a crime. But then I thought I might ask her about the ducks, and that felt like a reasonable enough excuse for breaking the law. No one else seemed to know, but she was new, so it was possible she’d have an answer. “You know the ducks at the pond?” She sort of jolted when I said that, and she gasped as if I’d just told her her mom died. Guess she wasn’t expecting me to talk. “S…sorry, which pond?” “The one in Central Park.” “Um, yeah, I guess. Why?” “Where do they go? During the winter, I mean.” “Oh, I’ve never really thought about it before.” “Well, I think more people ought to. Not enough people are worried about where the ducks go.” She smiled at that, a real big genuine smile. I wasn’t really sure why, you could tell I was really sort of frustrated. “I think they migrate, like butterflies.” “What the hell do butterflies got to do with it?” “Well, they migrate too. Have you ever seen pictures of monarch butterflies huddled together on trees?” “No, because I’m not talking about the damn butterflies! Everyone’s always bringing up other things, I’m not asking about the butterflies or the fish, I’m talking about the ducks!” Her smile fell, and she looked away for a second. And I almost felt bad that I’d sort of yelled at her. It wasn’t that I was mad at her or anything, really, just that I was tired of people avoiding the question.

She still didn’t look at me, but she said something. It was so quiet I barely even noticed she was talking until she was half way through the damn sentence. “I think they fly south, where it’s warmer, and then they come back when spring comes.” I stayed quiet.

She looked at her feet. “Why don’t you just look it up in a book? You banned from the library or something?” “No, I’m not banned from the damn library! I… just don’t really want to.” “I get it. I think.” “You do?” I tilted my head like a confused puppy. “Yeah, like… maybe you can just never remember to go, maybe you’re scared of the answer, maybe you’re scared of the search being over, or maybe all three. It sucks to lose something you can ask people about, and stuff isn’t as fun when you just give it a definitive answer. It just loses something. Sorry, I don’t know if that makes sense.” “No, it… it makes a lot of sense, actually.” She turned to face me again and we just silently smiled at each other, it felt nice.

“Oh, this is my apartment building. I can take everything from here.” “I can help you bring it in.” “No, I think I’d prefer to do it myself, thank you.” “I was thinking we could chat some more.” “Maybe another time, bud.” I put what I was holding into her arms and she adjusted her grip around the pile to make sure she wouldn’t drop anything.

She started to walk off, but then quickly spun back around looking real shocked and embarrassed. “Oh, I just realized I forgot to ask your name!”

“Oh, I’m-”

I thought for a moment. I wasn’t really in the mood to lie about my name, to tell you the truth.

“Holden Caulfield.”

She smiled, and sort of chuckled a bit.

“(Y/N) (L/N).”

[austin-in-taiwan]

June 23 - Tapei -> Yilan - Air raid drill, Clog museum, Boba, Hotel hot spring

Today was our last morning in Taipei. I woke up and wrote my independent excursion reflection at a nearby Starbucks. Afterward, I still had plenty of time, so I met up with some of the guys on the trip and got some scallion pancakes with egg and some pork buns from nearby restaurants, which were absolutely delicious. Then, there wasn’t much time till we departed from the hotel.

Once on the bus and onto the freeway, we soon received notifications about the air raid drill. The drill happens once a year, and unless you are on the highway (which we were), you are required by law to stop and follow police instructions (either stay in place or go to the nearby shelter). Unfortunately, we didn’t hear any sirens or see anything besides the notifications on our phones. Our tour guide, Peter, sent us this article if you want to read more about it: https://focustaiwan.tw/society/202407210012.

Once in Yilan, we stopped at a wooden clog museum. This museum was fun. First, we tried a massage clog, which was just a clog with large wooden grooves where your foot goes. It really wasn’t comfortable. Then we tried clogs inclined upwards so your toes point to the sky. These were for stretching your calves, so we put those on and followed a stretching routine by the guide. Finally, we designed our own leather clog keychain! I put a monkey on mine because that’s my Chinese zodiac and my initials (see picture below).

Next, we went to Kili Bay and made our own Pearl Milk Tea. First, we dipped the tea bag in hot water 80 times, mixed in the cream powder, shook it with ice, mixed in the syrup, and finally poured it over the boba tapioca bubbles. It was delicious, and we even got to keep the cool glass mugs. At the gift shop, I bought some Taiwanese milk tea packets and instant tapioca so my family can try them at home!

Finally, we went to the hotel and checked in. This hotel was a spa hotel, and they had hot springs in the back. There were cold springs (60 degrees Fahrenheit) that were like ice baths, some hot springs that went up to 110 degrees, and even a sauna. It was super relaxing and a great break.

Tomorrow, a typhoon will hit, and our activities have been canceled. We went to 711, grabbed a few instant ramen and water, and will be ready to eat during the typhoon!

Academic Reflection

As many people know, boba tea is one of the most famous products invented in and exported from Taiwan. Today, we made the milk tea and added it to the tapioca pearls, which was a fantastic experience. The readings, however, have made me appreciate that experience more. Boba tea isn’t as old as I thought, as it was first made four decades ago in one of two tea houses (Chun Shui Tang in the central city of Taichung or Hanlin Tea Room in southern Tainan). They both believe that they were the ones who invented it in 1986. Learning how it is made was exciting and made me appreciate it. The pearls are made from starches, brown sugar, and water. When rolled together and boiled, that’s what makes them gummy, chewy, and glossy. Overall, learning about the invention of the famous milk tea, how the tapioca is made, and experiencing the tea itself made me appreciate it much more.

One other super exciting thing I learned today wasn’t from any activities but from traveling from Taipei to Yilan. There were tons of tunnel systems through the mountains that we went through on our bus ride. During the travel, we were taught that building that tunnel freeway system took about 2.8 billion dollars. It was complicated to build with the amount of volcanic activity and water pockets. Apparently, a giant tunnel drill is still underwater in the mountain. Overall, the building of that system made a 2.5-hour drive around the mountains into a 45-minute drive from Taipei to Yilan. I find it interesting how critical highways are and how challenging and expensive building them can be.

[froizetta]

WIP Wednesday: Brucie's guide to avoiding traffic jams

This week, here's something from the cutting room floor of my ongoing fic (Love) Triangles, presented with minimal context so as to avoid spoilers. This scene was meant to introduce Bruce's/Brucie's POV but it ended up not fitting, which is kinda sad because I liked how it turned out. So here it is, in case I don't manage to work it in somewhere after all!

It was a crisp autumn evening in central Metropolis. The rain that plagued Gotham had miraculously ceased almost the instant he’d crossed over into her sister city, which was both meteorologically improbable and completely unsurprising. Rather than hurrying along under dark coats and umbrellas, the citizens here seemed content to stroll casually along well-lit streets. There were areas of Metropolis that were more subdued, closer to what Bruce was used to. But here in the center of things, everything was bold and new and shiny even at night, gleaming art deco illuminated by sun-yellow streetlights. Glancing around, all Bruce could see was shining chrome and twinkling glass.

He suppressed the urge to grimace. Instead he scanned the sidewalk until he found what he was looking for and plastered on his most charming smile. “Hey there, Mr. Parking Valet? Could you come over here, please?” he called out.

Hearing a faint voice over the hum of background traffic, the man glanced around in confusion for several seconds before his eyes landed on Bruce, halfway out of his car and waving at him enthusiastically. The valet blinked and pointed to himself questioningly. Bruce nodded encouragingly and beckoned him over.

Warily, the valet approached. He was young, younger than Bruce, probably early to mid twenties with a neatly styled mop of mousy brown hair and a skillfully pressed uniform. Worn leather shoes carefully polished until they shone. He probably would struggle to afford a room at the hotel he worked at, but he took his job seriously. He wanted to impress.

He would do.

“Can I help you, sir?” he asked politely.

Bruce beamed. “Why yes, you sure can, um…” He squinted at the man’s nametag. “Jeremy. Sorry for calling you over so rudely like that, I can’t exactly leave the car when it’s running. That would be terribly unsafe, you know.”

Jeremy glanced at the car. Bruce could spot the exact moment the guy twigged the make and model: a rapid blink, the slightest raising of his eyebrows. When he lifted his gaze, his eyes swept across Bruce’s watch and the expensive cut of his tux.

“Ah, yes, sir. I understand,” Jeremy said smoothly.

He’d decided to humor him. Perfect.

“Oh, I’m so glad,” Bruce gushed. “I knew as soon as I saw you across the street that you’d be an understanding fellow.”

He tipped his head politely. “You’re too kind, sir.”

“What can I say? I call it like I see it, Gerald, that’s just how I am.”

Jeremy’s poker face was admirable – not so much as a twitch. He was going to go far in this business.

“But enough about that,” Bruce continued, smiling broadly. “As to the reason I called you here…well, I’m actually in something of a fix! You see, I’m supposed to be at an event at that building over there—” here, he indicated Lexcorp’s ostentatious façade with his right hand and frowned at the watch on his left “—oh, about an hour and a half ago, now. And there comes a point whereby I’m no longer fashionably late but rather I’ve very unfashionably missed all the fun – and, most importantly, the most palatable offerings from the champagne selection. You can relate, I’m sure.”

“Of course, sir,” Jeremy said, nodding soberly.

“Of course,” Bruce agreed, equally soberly. “But as you can see, this terrible traffic is just not budging! By the time I’m unstuck from this jam, the only sparkling wine left at the open bar will probably be prosecco. Prosecco! I mean, can you imagine?”

“No, sir,” Jeremy said.

“No indeed!” he cried. “So you see, I was wondering if you might park my car for me in the parking lot of your fine hotel and save me the aggravation of missing my party. I would of course compensate you for your time, but you’d truly be doing me a wonderful service.”

Jeremy’s expression turned politely apologetic. “Well, sir, I’m afraid the parking lot is reserved for those who have rooms in the hotel. As much as I’d love to help you, I wouldn’t like to get in trouble with my boss.”

Bruce nodded. “That’s understandable, Jermaine. I wouldn’t want for a nice man like yourself to get into any trouble. Although…are you sure we can’t come to some kind of arrangement?” He raised an eyebrow meaningfully. “I’m an extremely generous tipper, you see.”

Jeremy blinked. “Oh. How extremely generous, exactly, if I might ask?”

Bruce said nothing and smiled wider.

Jeremy glanced once more at the watch and swallowed. And then, after a brief moment of consideration, he said with a bright, professional smile, “Very well, sir! I’d be happy to help.”

Bruce gave his shoulder a jovial slap. “There’s a good man! I knew you’d come through for me.”

He pulled out a handful of bills from his wallet and handed them over, along with his car keys and a business card. Jeremy’s eyes went wide. “Take my card. If your bosses give you any trouble over this, just call this number. I’m confident my secretary can work something out with them.”

Jeremy’s eyebrows were at his hairline now. Bruce wasn’t sure whether it was because of the neat stack of hundreds he’d just been handed or the name on the card – but in the end, it didn’t really matter, did it? The end result was the same.

“I— Of course, sir! Thank you for your generosity.”

“No, Geoffrey,” Bruce said emphatically, taking the man by his shoulders and looking him dead in the eye. “Thank you.”

He left a grateful Jeremy with his still-running car and hurried the remaining block over to Lexcorp.

He’d wasted enough time already as it was.

[nabbit-unmasked]

Current Strongest Kin(s): a bunch of songs

Most Preferred Name(s): Sage

Current Fronters: Sage & Cougar (probably)

Intro Post!

Hi! I'm Sage/Stolace, but you can also call me by any kin name. I'm also fine with any nicknames you can come up with, as long as they're spinoffs of my other names!

• I'm an Alterhuman, and that's what this blog will be mainly focused on, with a special focus on placekin topics.

• My pronouns are he/it/lo/🇨🇫

• I'm a minor (16+ in age)

• I am Autistic and attribute this as the source of my alterhumanity.

• I am a therian, placekin, fictionkin, conceptkin, and an alterhuman in general. Overall, I have 20+ confirmed kintypes which I'll list down below.

• I am genderfluid, and my sexuality is achillean. I identify as trans, mlm, and punkboy4punkboy. I am also objectum, especially for The Gambia and dakota discs.

• Taken by Val (he is my boyfriend /srs)

• I personally identify as a punk, degenerate, freak, and social reject. I reclaim these terms proudly.

• Liminous (Dreadliminal, Backroomian, +more)

• I am the functioner of an Imagian plurality. Collectively, we use they/them pronouns. We are mixed-origin and pro-endo, but we aren't really concerned about our own origin or if we are disordered or not.

[ Kinlist, Identities, Tags, and BYF under the cut. ]

♡ -> Kinlist <- ♡

• Theriotypes:

♡ Lipizzan

♡ Fisher

♡ Quoll (Species leaning: Eastern & Spot-Tailed)

♡ Ruminantia (Cladotherian)

♡ Ardeidae (Pluritherian)

♡ New Guinea Singing Dog / Canine

♡ Big Cat (Lion / Cougar)

♡ [Unsure] Kori Bustard

• Placekin:

♡ Central African Republic (C.A.R. / CAR)

• Conceptkin:

♡ Home Safety Hotline/HSH

*[as in the company, not the physical game]

♡ Slaughterhouse (GD level)

♡ Limbo (GD level)

• Songkins:

♡ Can't Stop - Red Hot Chili Peppers

♡ Everyone Knows That/EKT (Lostwave version)

♡ B O D Y O N T H E F L O O R - Scratchy

♡ you don't love me - Rebzyyx

• Songflickers:

[ Currently None ]

• Fictionkins:

♡ Stolace* (Helluva Boss)

♡ Vox (Hazbin Hotel)

♡ Adam (Hazbin Hotel)

♡ Stone (Ramshackle)

♡ Moisty (TWISTED DOCTOR Universe / Doll Eye)

♡ Nabbit (Mario Franchise)

♡ Cooper (Papa's -eria games)

♡ 1st Prize (BBIEAL)

♡ Blabbot (Amanda the Adventurer)

*[ I spell my name as "Stolace", not "Stolas". ]

• Fictionhearted:

♡ Blitzø (Helluva Boss)

♡ Valentino (Hazbin Hotel)

• Other Hearttypes:

♡ D.R.C.

♡ Birds

♡ Bat-Eared Fox

• Other Identities:

♡ Myotis/Little Brown Bat w/ Leafnose

♡ Common Bedbug copinglink

♡ Seagull copinglink

♡ Odie copinglink (from Garfield)

Special Tags:

#I am the CAR kin / #CARstuff🇨🇫: Posts about my placekin experience as the Central African Republic.

#placekin questions: Answering questions about Placekin and my experience with being placekin.

#🇨🇫❤🇬🇲: Posts about my objectum crush, The Gambia

#aWannabe: Posts about my favorite music artist, aWannabe.

Before You Follow (BYF) :

• I am a minor (16+)

• I don't mind if 18+ blogs interact in a SFW manner, as long as your blog isn't entirely/mostly NSFW

• I like Hazbin Hotel and 4-5 of my headmates are sourced there (some ppl have this on their DNI???)

• I'm dating Valentino from Hazbin Hotel. /srs

• I am against gatekeeping and exclusion.

• I welcome and support every kind of system, plurality, and multiplicity, including endos. I am part of a mixed-origin imagian plurality myself.

• I welcome and support factkin and factives. I am not one myself, but our plurality does have factives.

• I do not post or repost anything political on this blog, unless it is in reference to placekin.

• I don't participate in proship or radqueer discourse on this blog. Consider me neutral.

• I have no DNI. I cannot stop you from making that first interaction with me. If I strongly disagree with your views or you make me uncomfortable, I will just block you.

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Sam signs up.

Taglist: @vickytokio @ashintheairlikesnow @thefancydoughnut @malcolmisthebrightestboy @redwingedwhump @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @finder-of-rings @orchidscript @hackles-up

It's three minutes after midnight and there is blood on Sam’s hands. 

It glimmers red under the neon shine of the streetlamps Sam hastes past.  His face is damp with tears and sweat. Tears that won’t dry even in the oppressive summer heat, they are falling too fast, too numerous. A well of pain flowing over. 

I can’t do this anymore.

Sam’s hand throbs. Sam’s head throbs

His heart throbs. 

I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE! 

Somewhere in the distance a car alarm goes off.

He stumbles on the crossing into the nice part of town. The great hall of the central station is enclosed in thick steel beams and looms over Sam like the industrial carcass of a whale. It’s silvery bones illuminated by floodlights. Behind it, the fashion shops and restaurants of the city's shopping district tower high into the sky. Technicolored neon lights sparkle in their glass facades. 

At the end of the currently deserted strip lies Sam’s goal. WRU. 

Old sneakers against pavement. His footsteps echo between the empty buildings, growing faster, faster, in his haunted desperation. 

If he slows down enough for the oxygen to catch up with his brain, long enough to think about this, to doubt this-

No!

He can’t chicken out. Not now. The blood on his hand has almost dried, color shifting from red to brown. It's too late to stop. All his dreams and aspirations, he smashed them up alongside his sewing machine. Ripped them apart as he shredded his midterm project to tiny pieces of golden fabric. Even if he had the money to re-buy the materials, replace his machine, there wasn’t enough time to re-do that dress from scratch. 

Good! I don’t want this shit anyway. I just want out! Let me get out!

He bursts into Wru’s reception hall, its glass doors opening with a quiet ‘ding’.

The receptionist startles awake from where she’d dozed off behind the counter. Perfectly rose painted lips curve into an apologetic smile. She brushes a lock of honey blond hair back behind her ear. 

“”How can I help you?” 

Sam’s ragged breathing fills the silence between them as he just stares, for a moment. Suddenly remembering where he is, Sam straightens, fumbles with his shirt to make himself look half decent, not sweaty and flushed with his old cat shirt stuck to his back.

“Good-” he gulps down a breath. “Good evening. I, uhm, I wanna sign up.” 

“Oh.” The receptionist musters him, eyes scanning him top to bottom. Sam’s face is burning from more than exertion now. 

“Am I wrong here?” 

“Oh, no no. It’s only- Are you of age?”

“Twentyone.” Sam mumbles, deflating with every second he stands in the shining emptiness of this fake marble hall. It had to be fake, right? 

The woman smiles, pleasant but empty. "Alright. I do need your ID information for our records nonetheless and-” she put a clipboard and pen on the pristine counter, “These are some additional information we need for your check in.”

Check in.

As if signing your very life away was as easy as simply checking into a hotel. Three nights as a pet please. Yes, with breakfast and room service, thank you.

Suppressing a snort Sam fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and plugs his ID from it with shaking fingers. He holds it out to her, arm straining over the counter and on his tiptoes.

“Here.” He says, short but polite, before snatching the clipboard and pen from the counter.  

“You can sit in our waiting area to fill this out.” She gestures to the right without looking up, already typing away one handed, eyes scanning his ID.

The area reminds Sam of a doctor's waiting room, only far more luxurious. Three leather couches stand around a low wooden table, dark and polished. Pet magazines are neatly laid atop it. The tv in the corner plays wru ads on mute. In the corner stands a water dispenser that looks more expensive than all of Sam’s possessions combined. If he would try to drink from it now, Sam knows he would throw up.

He sits down with a soft squeak of leather. The pen scratches over the paper with every word. 

Known allergies: None.

Known  pre-existing illnesses: None.

He is halfway through the first sheet, medical history,  when the dialing of a phone number catches his attention.

“Yes. We have a new acquisition, yes. I need a handler to pick him up, finish the check in. Quickly. Yes.” 

Why quickly? Sam finishes the first sheet in a scribbled hurry. 

“Samantha Higgens?” Sam cringes at his deadname. Whatever, soon it’ll be gone for good right? “Have you informed family or friends about your decision?”

Sam bristles. “How’s that your business?” 

She smiles, very patiently. “We offer a service to inform your bereaved about your choices and answer any questions they might have. Most people find it reassuring to know that no open questions remain for the people- that might have them.” 

 The people that might- worry about him. Miss him.

There is no oxygen left in Sam’s lungs, all of a sudden. The room is way too big and his hands are shrinking, skin too tight over his bones. His brain sloshes around inside his skull. 

“No.” He hears himself say, voice high and tight. “I- I’ll text her myself.” 

The elevator door dings and boots clip over the marble floor with each approaching step. Sam fumbles his phone out of his pocket, hands shaking so bad he nearly drops it. 

Warm fingers steady his own.  When Sam looks up he finds himself face to face with a man near his forties, smiling down at him. He grips his phone tighter. 

“There we go.” The man flops down next to him, eyes crinkling. “The last message, hm? I can’t imagine how brave you have to be to write those.” 

“Huh?” Sam’s face crumbles in confusion, his impending panic attack stopped dead in its tracks. “Who, who are you?” 

The man's brown eyes grow serious without losing their warmth. He is handsome in a way Sam rarely finds in a middle aged man. Dependable looking. Save. “I’m your primary handler. Call me Mister Wilson.”

Sam shakes his outstretched hand on instinct. “I’m- well that won’t really matter once this whole pet thing starts, right?” 

Mister Wilson hums, pleased. “A quick learner I see. I think we will have a great time together. The smart ones are my favorite.”

Heat floods Sam’s face and he drops his gaze, pressing the start button on his phone repeatedly to do something with his hands. 

Mister Wilson lets him fumble until his nervousness morphes back into despondency. He opens his messenger app, closes it again. Opens it. Closes it. Sam stalls for time and they both know it. 

“Little one,” Mister Willsons begins softly, “you’ve gotta be brave one last time now. And after that, I promise you, you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

With a big sigh and his heart beating against his throat so violently he wonders if Mr Wislon can see it, Sam pulls up his aunt's chat. There are at least five voicemails she must have sent after Sam stormed out the door, after their fight. And after demolishing the room, she never stopped complaining about giving up for him. 

Whatever is on there he won’t listen to it. They’re just gonna be a continuation of her never ending accusations anyway. Telling him what a burden he is. How he should give up his dreams of becoming a designer and get a proper job. Whenever she hits a bad mental health spot she turns into a broken record player of soul crushing bitchery!

But when she has a good streak she-

Sam shakes his head so abruptly Mister Wilson startles beside him. 

Fingers shaking with anger punch in the first word. 

Delete it. 

Type a new one.

Delete it.

Try a third.

His fingers aren’t shaking from anger when he finally hits send. His phone screen is slippery with tears. 

I’m sorry. 

I can’t do this anymore. 

I’m becoming a pet. 

I love you.

Forgive me.

[motownfiction]

hotel staff

This is what you get when you sleep with your dead ex-boyfriend’s little brother on Christmas, Steph thinks. You get a cheap motel, no drinks, and no dinner.

She’s still sitting in the driveway with the radio on. It’s the one station she can find that isn’t strictly playing Christmas carols. They’re playing “Red Rubber Ball.” She has to laugh. Oh, she remembers this song. She remembers singing it in the car with Sam when they were seventeen. She remembers getting the words wrong, as usual, and she remembers how Sam’s brown eyes lit up as he laughed.

Now I know you’re not the only starfish in the city, she sang.

And Sam laughed and laughed.

Stephanie! he said. It’s “in the sea,” not “in the city.” Why would the starfish be in the city? What sense does that make?

It makes sense if you’re being creative, Steph said.

Sam grinned. She can still see the way Sam grinned.

Fair point, he said.

But he’s gone now. Two years dead, and gone long before. Maybe if she hadn’t gone away to college, or if she’d fought harder to keep him, he wouldn’t be dead today. Hell, she never fell out of love with him. Even when she swore up and down to her friends at Central that she hated him, that he broke her heart, that she couldn’t waste time on a boy who would break up with her over the phone, she never fell out of love with him. Steph was in love with Sam on the night he died. In fact, she was ready for him.

But that’s not the world they live in. They live in the world where Sam is dead, and Steph copes with decades of regret by hooking up with Charlie in a cheap motel. Free cable. A fuzzy radio station. No bucket of ice, no working vending machine, no hotel staff to say things like, “Whatever we can do to help you enjoy your stay.”

Because you’re not supposed to enjoy your stay.

You’re supposed to get out.

Steph knew that when she hastily left Charlie behind. She knew that when she drove away as fast as she could. She knows it now, sitting here, too scared to go inside.

She turns the dial to a station with Christmas songs.

It doesn’t make anything better, but it doesn’t make anything worse.

(part of @nosebleedclub june challenge -- day 6!)

[posttexasstressdisorder]

"The best revenge..."

...is living and eating WELL while (and in spite of) living in poverty.

I actually had the gumption to try and have a cafe 30 or so years ago, and I live with a guy who had his own bakery: a Danish-trained Chef currently working as a Sous Chef at a big hotel in The City, and his 21 yr old son (who has literally been an assistant sous chef to his dad his whole life).

We're all barely afloat, his son is looking for his first real job-job "out there", and getting discouraged. Y'all hear regularly about my poverty status, and my roomie chef is doin' as much as he can, and we're all three freakin' broke.

Fuck it. We may be broke, but we are are gonna Eat as best we can with what we got. So to the current example.

Yes, I know how to cook Mexican Food like any native ex-south-texan worth his salt and lime. Yes I learned how mama/grandma did it, either mine or someone else's.

Roomie and I are carnivores, son is veg. We all agree that Mexican Food is good, so I'm always looking for how to spend my "old-fuck-on-food-stamps EBT the best way.

Behold, Example 1: 20 lb. bag of dried pinto beans.

20 lbs for $17. And lookee there: it's Fiesta, no stranger to this former Austinite. And anyone who knows knows that this boy knows how to make a pot o'pintos, with/without carnivorousness. Keep 'em on the stove long enough you got Refrieds.

Somebody at Groce-Out is from Texas, gotta be: They have Velveeta and Rotel (for QUESO!) at near-normal prices! I laughed today. Velveeta was 6.99 at Groce-Out, and I shit you not, $14.95 at Lucky.

Got that along with a couple 2-lb bags of their "Hollis Street" whole bean French Roast (Dark) for $11.95 ea. This is surprisingly good coffee beanage, freshly roasted right up the road in Emeryville, evidently. So good coffee for cheap. A similar brand at the 'non discount' grocery store I go to is $21 for a 2lb bag.

While they aren't the winner in the coffee bean competition, Lucky (the non-discount store) is great for meat, especially mid-week, when they have lots of specials. Their "megapaks" of chicken thighs (10/pkg) were buy one get one free. So for ten bucks, I got 20 thighs (over 7lbs), which, when roasted with lots of salt and pepper, and cooled and shredded and deboned become something like 4 pounds of Chicken Enchilada Meat. For ten bucks.

Tomorrow I go to another discount store closeby roomie told me about that has the best commercial Hatch Chile in a jar I have ever found. Tastes like mine, when we would get a case at a time at Central Market, get 'em roasted in the parking lot, and take 'em home and shuck most of the the skins/seeds, and saute onion and garlic and add. In. A. Fucking. Jar.

So you see where this is heading.

We will be having a TexMex Enchilada/taco Feast that can be repeated at will until we've eaten/given enough away. Freezer. Vacuum sealer. Oooooooom.

And yeah, we got the dessert thing covered. I buy flour, the three sugars, butter, real cream, good organic milk, good brown eggs. I bake everything from fucking scratch. I buy berries and grapes as my main fruit. I don't buy a lot of processed ANYTHING. I buy ingredients. And bread/tortillas, obvs. And I'm happy I have the "card" that gives me my eeked-out apportionment of "food funds".

So that old adage of "The Best Revenge" being "living well" means we may be fucking poor, but goddammit, we are gonna Eat, with a capital E if I have anything to say about it.

All three of us are pretty much clinging to the same leaky life-raft, this accursed but oh-so-necessary apartment, not much overlap in our lives/diets/schedules, but every once in awhile I get to go back into "restaurant mode" and do up a Massive Feed. Share with the neighbors and stock the freezer.

And a pot of beans on the stove in perpetuity.