#i know cranberries aren't in-season yet

[strawberryamanita]

Thinking about the cranberry bog.

I need to go to the cranberry bog.

I want to lay down face-up in the cranberry bog, like it was a regular lake, and watch the world turn around me.

I crave the bog.

[thebelljarwriter]

Brotherly Bond

sorry for the absence, I needed a break. an eightieth entry for @comfy-vember.

Day 8: Found — Thunder shower — Fresh fruit

summary: long lost brothers Shane Meyers & Ryan Callisto aren't exactly good at being brothers, after a heated argument, Shane attempts to try and be a good brother.

It’s a common thing for siblings to argue. Whether it’s over something small like borrowing something without asking or taking the last muffin you’ve been saving for a while or something petty like which show to watch or which route to take. Siblings argue just about anything. Though, sometimes an argument isn’t small at all, sometimes it isn’t petty or just simple bickering. Sometimes, an argument that snowballs into something more, it can boil, it can be heated, it can be loud and sometimes something slips and everything goes silent. Much like the last remains of a ticking time bomb that had exploded and now the aftermath is filled with tension so thick you would have to cut it with something much sharper than a knife.

 Despite the fact he had to live with four other kids in a home up until he’d been twenty-two, Shane Oliver Meyers hadn’t known a single thing about being a brother. He didn’t know how to exactly apologize either. Nor did he know how to have a damn filter, Jesus Christ, why did he have to say that, he bumps his head against the wall with a soft thud, eyes squeezing shut before opening them again. 

 He didn’t mean it, of course he hadn’t, but it slipped from his mouth so quickly it only took him a minute before Shane processed that shocked look in Ryan’s face, almost like a sense of betrayal that flickering in his eyes. He left the hallway, ignoring Shane’s stammering and shaky apology, brow furrowed and hands clenched as he just slammed the door of his bedroom behind him. It’s been only fifty minutes since then but it almost felt like hours, he isn’t even sure if Ryan left his room yet, he isn’t sure what to say or how he should say any sort of apology. 

 What’s he supposed to say? What if he said the wrong thing? What if that already shaky brotherly bond they didn’t get to have gets ruined again with no chance of mending? Shane taps his foot, trapped in thought before his eyes land on the fruit bowl on the kitchen table. Yesterday they had gone to a farmer’s market (it had been Shane’s suggestion, he didn’t like supermarkets so much, he always liked organic stuff) and they had gotten a couple of fruits. Shane always would get fruits that were in season, now that autumn had arrived, he picked up a few things for the current season. 

 Apples (the granny smith ones of course), kiwifruits, pears, mangos, cranberries, and finally grapes. Though Ryan had the funny idea of adding oranges into their list, even though Shane had tirelessly explained that oranges weren’t in season for fall, and proceeded to explain the thing about the seasonal fruits and vegetables and what was in season and what wasn’t in season and– 

 “They’re my favorite fruit,” Ryan had explained, smiling, “Andrea used to peel them for me.”

 Ryan preferred the navel oranges, he had grown up with them around the house he lived in, his older foster sister often peeling them for him whenever they got home from school while their parents were busy with work, there was something sentimental, Shane supposed as he paid for them, though he never was the one for anything sentimental. 

 “They’re actually called Bahia Oranges,” Shane had noted as they got home, “first appearing in the nineteenth century in Bahia, Brazil.”

 Almost aimlessly, Shane makes his way to the kitchen table and grabs the first thing he sees, a plate and a navel orange, peeling away.

***

A knock and a voice from the other side, “can I, uhm, can I come in, Ry?” 

 Ryan almost considers saying no or get lost, sitting in the dark of his room for what seemed like hours. Siblings typically got into arguments all the time, he remembered the countless times he’s bickered with Andrea and his other foster siblings when he stayed with the Callistos until he moved out at nineteen. He and Shane wouldn’t be too different, no? I mean, it’s only been a month since they came to the realization they were related despite not looking anything alike, it felt strange at the time. It felt weird. They had their fair share of bickering before, yeah, they were always bantering at the paranormal investigation agency, first time they ever met and Shane had mentioned he didn’t believe in that sort of thing, he asked, “then why are you here?” And then, of course, Ryan had the bright idea of having Shane tag along on the ghost hunts he partook in, much to Shane’s dismay.  He guessed on that day, it probably got too much for their hunt of the week.

 “Come in.” Ryan says, the door opens and light of the hallway appears, outlining his lanky counterpart like a shadow, a very sad shadow at that. Shane steps inside, turning on a light and with a plate in hand. Politely, though still upset, Ryan scoots over on the bed when Shane plops himself down on the side of the bed next to him with the plate in hand. Ryan thinks about giving him silent treatment before his eyes dart to the plate. Grapes and slices of kiwifruit, pears, apples, and oranges like some sort of small platter. Ryan arches an eyebrow, almost skeptical, Shane hadn’t been the one for any sort of … gift-giving. For Christmas, Shane got him a pair of shoes and a new flashlight. He wasn’t the best, but he wasn’t the worst either. An awkward silence between two brothers, sitting side by side with a plate of fruit in hand. Shane opens his mouth first but quickly closes it, hastily handing Ryan the plate. 

 “It’s uh…” Shane murmurs, fiddling with his sleeve. “Uhm… it’s fruit.”

 Ryan tries suppressing a chuckle with how Shane says it, he picks at a pear slice, “yeah, I can see that. Is this your way of apologizing, huh?” 

 Shane shoots him a look, “it’s the best I can do,” he says, “to… to y’know, make it up to you.” 

 Ryan watches Shane turn away for a moment, hanging his head low as he continues fiddling with his sleeve, he gets it, really he does. As long as he’s known him, Shane Meyers seemed to have a hard time… expressing feelings, especially in terms of apologizing. Sitting in silence (and not much to really do), Ryan munches on a grape as he waits for Shane to speak up, and finally he does, hands in a close grasp.

 “I didn’t mean it,” Shane’s tone starts to become fragile as his voice trails off, not looking Ryan directly in the eye, he never really enjoyed eye contact, not when he had to be vulnerable, even if it was just for a moment. “back there, when we were investigating, I didn’t mean to break the recorder, I was trying to fix it and I dropped it and I couldn’t… I couldn’t get it to work so I got frustrated and I just slammed it. I… I didn’t mean to do that, I … I shouldn’t have done that.”  

 “Shane–”

 “And I’m sorry that I said that I said it was childish when we got home,” Shane continues, “and that I said you should grow up and that your investigating was a waste of time, you were very right to be angry about the recorder and I shouldn’t have said those things, Ryan I’m sorry I–”

 “Shane!” 

 Quiet, Shane stops speaking, now his attention is on Ryan who looks back at him, blinking for a moment, hand still fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt. Ryan has his hand on his shoulder, not exactly sure what to say, despite being more straightforward than Shane, he hadn’t been so good at being vulnerable either, he had arguments before with Andrea, but usually afterwards Andrea would just peel him an orange and call it a day without any words spoken. Ryan hadn’t really known the concept of saying sorry other than just handing you a fruit without saying a word. But how do you respond to an apology once it’s said to you?

 Can’t just say thanks for the fruit anyway.

 “It’s okay,” Ryan finally says, though it feels awkward when he says it like he’s not used to saying it. Feels weird, feels almost uncomfortable. “Uhm, I guess I said some nasty stuff back there too, calling you an inconsiderate jerk and, uh, said you didn’t care about anything, and I’m sorry.”

 “Sorry I said you were an immature idiot.” Shane says.

 “Sorry I said you were a callous jackass.” Ryan responds.

 Everything falls silent between them now, save for Ryan munching on the remaining pieces of fruit on his plate and Shane staring off into space. Maybe they just weren’t good at being brothers, when you’ve been separated for thirty years, you really see how different you’ve become from one another. Kind of like apples and oranges, speaking of which …

 “Isn’t it weird that apples and oranges oddly go together,” Ryan says, breaking the silence, “I mean. You often hear the phrase ‘don't compare apples to oranges’, I just don’t think there’s truth to that.” 

 “It’s an idiom,” Shane replies, “it’s supposed to be how the difference between something is incomparable.”

 “Do you think we’re any different?” 

 “...in a way, yeah.”

 At the corner of Shane’s eye, he sees Ryan smile, “does that mean you’re the apple, huh?”

 Shane looks at him, arching an eyebrow, “why would I be the apple?”

 “Because I’m already an orange.” Ryan gestures to his orange ascot, “c’mon, it’s my color.” 

 Shane suppresses a chuckle, shaking his head rather fondly, “just eat your fruit.” 

 “Do you want a piece at least?” Ryan asks before anything else, handing him the last apple slice of his plate, “I mean… gotta make it up to you, right?” 

 Shane considers it for a moment, before finally accepting and popping the slice in his mouth. The silence is no longer tense and awkward, but rather peaceful and comfortable as they hoped for, Ryan places the plate between them, deciding Shane would have the last few pieces, luckily his lanky counterpart thanks him and takes some, sitting together in what they would call their own brotherly bond.

[nobilisseoblige]

and she wrote: "my body is here, yet i am not. i know my name, but i feel alienated. i'm afraid. i'm afraid." and he wrote: "i've lived my days in lies, seeing faces i know aren't real. i wonder how hard it will be to get back on my feet." and they wrote: "somehow i'm sorry. i've lived a full life and i'm still sorry."

all first-hand witness accounts, all of them with their names attached. somehow they all claimed to have been trapped somewhere—somewhere incrementally different than here. it was apparent that they all claimed to live a great many days in the span of one night, but, they weren't reported to have disappeared nor had they been physically taken from their dormitories. Ferdinand could not fathom how this could have occurred right under their noses. he ran the rounds with Prince Dimitri—but there was fairly little they could do for reports where the victims were bound to a time and space beyond the tangible. it felt wrong, really, to give such a lackluster response to a victim's plea. "no report. we deeply apologize." "no evidence. we're still looking." "i'm sorry, we..."

believe you? is that something he could say with a good conscience? by the very light of the Saints, he did not. and he wasn't a liar.

so there was the lack of empathy. and the failure to meet someone down the middle.

he wondered if it was karma, then, for them to end up in a place like this. this morning, Lady Rhea herself called him into her room to discuss his performance at the latest choir practice. he noticed that her hair was a deep, emerald green, and wondered if he should get his eyes checked. she chuckled, unfurling and re-braiding the ribbons in her hair, as though she were remembering someone she loved. the next morning, a strange Reason professor went cackling down the hallway, crows following him from chandelier to chandelier. when ferdinand tried to chide him, he opened his pinprick slits to the most frightening red eyes. there were books out of place in the library. the chandeliers were made from a different type of crystal, not obtainable in such grand amounts as this. the roses were blue this season.

"Dimitri— if I may call you that—" there was an urgency in his voice that he would stake his own life on. "do you notice anything different about the academy?"

"and if you do, would you give me some kind of sign? I feel like I'm finally understanding that this isn't all smoke and mirrors... this is some kind of..." he doesn't have the word for it. deceit? was an entire world before their eyes a brand of deceit?

he gestured nondescriptly, rolling his wrist. "it feels... off."

in the dining hall, the windows were stained with pictures of some kind of history he did not recognize. when he raised his glass of cranberry juice, the rainbow of light glimmered through like crystal stars. "this is my sign."

@blaiddllodi

refraction of light { ferdinand & dimitri

※ distress || unending dream

[lihikainanea]

Hey Lei! It's Thanksgiving here in the States (not sure exactly where you are). Wanted to say how very grateful I am for your account! Love this page and especially love all things Tiger and Bill 💗 These adorable idiots have gotten me through some rough times this year. So thank YOU! Haven't read thru everything yet so not sure if you've written something like this before -Bill cooking Thanksgiving dinner just for her as a surprise. Maybe she's in Sweden w/ him for the holidays but misses home

oh my soff heart. thank you baby for these wonderful words <3 Happy thanksgiving!

I think Bill has definitely adopted some of tiger's traditions--turkey for Christmas and all, but Thanksgiving is something Bill never really celebrated in Sweden, and he's still not entirely sure about thanksgiving food. The turkey he can get behind--his preference would be goose but whatever--but sweet potato pie endlessly confuses him, he found out far too late that stuffing and dressing were the same thing, he's still not sure what cornbread is and he couldn't pick a collard green out of a lineup.

But it was one of granny's favourite holidays--any excuse to make a righteous mess of her kitchen and feed people until they can't breathe--and thus it was tiger's favourite. And things just haven't been the same in a few years.

Maybe tiger's really missing her grandmother this year, and she's been on the road with Bill for like 6 weeks so she's missing home and missing family in general. Thanksgiving is right around the corner, but there's nary a decoration or acorn or squash in sight because maybe they're in some tropical paradise, which is beautiful and all--but it's a place that definitely doesn't do thanksgiving, either.

Bill gets the idea the week before--that he wants to throw her a big feast so she feels like she's back home--but it's complicated by a few things. For one, turkeys aren't really a thing where they are and Bill has no idea where he can find one, nobody knows what cornbread is, and poultry seasoning? Forget it.. Two, he needs to somehow get tiger out of the house long enough for him to prepare this whole feast, which is impossible because she doesn't have any friends there and doesn't go into work.

So y'know, he lies. Like a well-beat rug, he lies. Tells tiger he has an 18-hour shoot that Thursday, but as a surprise--he books her a whole day at the spa. A whole damn day. Massage, pedicure, manicure, water circuit, the whole thing.

Maybe Butterball comes to the rescue, after Bill asks his assistant to phone in a special favour. The turkey arrives frozen solid three days before, and Bill has to find every reason to keep tiger from seeing it in the bathtub where it's thawing He finds cornbread mix online. He has all the stuff for the green bean casserole, and he gets Gustaf to ship him some cans of cranberry sauce. And that morning he all but throws tiger out of bed, poking her awake.

"Mmrph," she grunts, rolling over and pulling the blanket over her head.

"Spa day!" he says, but it's a little too excited. One angry eyeball glares at him once the blanket lowers.

"Coffee," the blanket mutters. Bill juts his chin to the nightstand, where her mug awaits her. She grumbles again, throwing the blankets back and sitting up. Bill leans in for a kiss but she plants her hand in the middle of his face, taking a sip of coffee first.

"Rude," he mutters.

"Vital."

She takes a few more sips, humming in content before she finally kisses him.

"This was a sweet thought bud," she says sleepily, "But if you ever book me a spa starting before 9AM again, I'll kill you."

Bill smiles, getting out of bed and throwing a pair of jeans at her.

"Noted, now get your ass up."

Bill's a busy man, he's got a lot of cooking to do. Once tiger is sufficiently caffeinated and dressed, he sends her on her way--she's still grumbling, but he's practically giddy with excitement.

And for hours, all he does is cook. He slaps a frilly apron on and he just cooks the entire day. He keeps checking the turkey, he makes the stuffing, he un-jellifies the cranberry sauce. He spends all day drinking wine and getting everything ready, complete with small pumpkins and acorns and other fall touches in the rented house.

Tiger gets a waft of something delicious, something that smells like home, the minute she steps out of the cab--but when she opens the door, it's a full olfactory assault in the best way. She takes a deep breath in--then another one, and slowly her eyes flit about the space. Different coloured leaves, small pumpkins, Bill standing there with an apron on in the hallway handing her a glass of wine.

"What is this?" she asks softly.

"It's Thanksgiving," he smiles gently at her, "Kind of."

[artbykevans]

Oh, tysm! 😊😊I'm really sorry about the breakup. I've been there, hope you and your boyfriend can fix things 🫂

Continues below the cut!

Relationship status: I have a boyfriend! Had a bit of a rocky year, but we're still going strong

Favorite colors: All shades of red and pastel blue!

Song stuck in your head: Dreams by The Cranberries. I just finished the last season of Derry Girls and can't stop listening to it.

Last thing you Googled: "blahaj ikea" - because they went on sale and i'm absolutely getting one.

Time: 2:49 AM, Tuesday. Watched Bleach with my friends and got caught up talking - i'm going to regret it tomorrow morning lol

Dream trip: London! My bf and I wanted to go before they left the EU but covid happened and then we had more pressing responsibilities, so maybe in 2023. Luckily, we had the chance of travelling Europe with friends during the summer of 2019, so we aren't complaining.

Last thing you read: Nick and Charlie by Alice Oseman! I got up to date with Heartstopper earlier this year and this novella was the only thing I had yet to read about them.

Last book you enjoyed reading: Aside from the last one I read, Jujutsu Kaisen manga.

Favorite thing to cook/bake: Quiche Lorraine!

Favorite craft to do in your free time: Drawing, although I don't do it as much as I used to.

Most niche dislike: Eh, it's not a niche dislike, but I hate the smell of cigarettes with a burning passion.

Opinion on circuses: I haven't set foot in one since I was like 9? As long as they don't have animals, I'm cool with them.

Do you have a sense of direction: Absolutely NOT. I can move around fine in places I know, but for anything else I need Google Maps.

I don't know who to tag since I'm not the most social butterfly here, so anyone is welcome to do this! <3

10 People You Want to Know Better

Aww, thank you for tagging me, @marshmallowgoop ​! Appreciate it! 😁

Something about fangirl/non-fangirl Sachi below the cut!

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