#instead of focusing on finishing my stuff and check others' work at my leisure

[withered-rose-unbreakable-lotus]

Ahhh ok see now this makes sense. So those biased against writers who don't read aren't only mad cause you are insulting the art in itself, they are also mad because they think that means you refuse to support other writers but expect massive support in return. Well personally, even when I was in the community, I was trying to support writers who had stories I liked. I was pushing myself cause their stories were interesting to me AND because i wanted to return the support. I did the support for support thing too in my first run and frankly that gave me a few readers too besides followers, but when I focused more on following stories I actually enjoyed on my second run, I got no new readers. Followers don't necessarily mean people will read your story unfortunately.

But that experiment aside, just liking and reblogging stuff but know nth about your work when they are asked about it shows me most people support back only to return the favor. And this is a big reason I got tired of trying and putting so much energy into this. Cause sure we can talk about our wips all day, but it saddens me when I take my time to remember parts of your story or your chars and you don't remember shit from mine so, at the end of the day, my being tired of trying to read more when I am personally not into reading just in order to belong and people to give a chance to my work doesn't look selfish at all to me.

To this day people still buy books of people they never met or talked to, so I aspire to be this type of author that got readers because they liked my story, not because they knew me in person or because they wished to return the favor for the times I supported them. I want to be judged based on what I write, not whether or not I support someone back enough for them to give me a chance.

[cosmiclatte28]

Baking! (Yuta x you)

a/n : heyyo it’s friday, let’s have some “me” time and enjoy some imagine with Yuta! Idea came from @yutahoes comment on previous post HOT PATCHED

warning : none! suggestive, how you ended up with a bun in the oven! (your beloved Nami), and of course 2020 was a baking year and I am more than willing to share you the recipe i am referring to for this story! DM me :D also i got a bit too carried away :) but it’s gonna be fun :D

tagging : @2-3-t-i @yutahoes @ailoveyuta

with that said.. enjoy your scene! 

Ever since the pandemic started and staying at home becomes a mandatory rule, you and your fiance, Yuta have been trying to overcome boredom with all possibilities. On the first month of staying home, you two are very excited about having “leisure” time while working at home. Both of you are delighted by the fact that you don’t have to wake up early, drive in the busy streets, and you just have to slip into your proper clothes when there is a board meeting. Considering your job is a magazine editor, you have meetings but luckily not every day.

Second month, you start to do yoga and exercises with Yuta every time he is bored, and he has nothing to do. Well, his comeback is still in preparation, so he only comes for regular practice and always got home when your office hour ends.

Fourth months, you pick up a new hobby and because your magazine company needs to make a new fresh content that suits the situation, the team comes up with a baking page. You are assigned to make the content, including taking pictures and trying the recipes your team made. You also have to do the editing but there’s help with that. You take the challenge, though you never bake before you see this as the perfect opportunity to start a new hobby. Things were great, the content is rising in demand since the world is baking suddenly! You got your raise and you enjoy doing this until your silly ass fell from challenging yourself to a wild yoga pose. You hurt your arms, they are a slightly fractured and you cannot make your baking content for the first three weeks of recovery, but you are so irritated to just stay in front of the laptop and watch your other friend make the pictures and cakes. So, when you can no longer hold yourself back, you plead the director board to give you back the baking section and they did love your job so you won the part back.

“Yuta can you come home earlier today?” you question the man who already wears his mask and has his training bag ready on his shoulder.

“Me?? I guess I’m done after lunch, I only have to practice singing today. Why?” he asks you back

You put on your sweetest smile “Don’t you want to try baking? I need some help with the rubric.”

Yuta’s eyes twinkle, it’s been his wish to try baking but because of practice and the amount of tools to wash and lack of time he hasn’t been able to do it. Now that you are offering him, he thinks he can seize the opportunity.

“Okay, I’ll try, who knows NCT will have a baking vlog after this, might flex about my skills” he smirks and you only grin at his cockiness.

“Okay, you can go.” You push him away after kissing his cheek and blushing when he winks at you and disappear behind the door.

Today you just have to wait for the team to send you the ingredients and recipes. You wonder what you’ll bake today no, what Yuta will bake today.

He was lucky the baking procedure he has to do today is easy. Simple lemon cake and you manage to get good pictures of Yuta’s hands and the aesthetic bowls and whiskers. You manage to hold the camera with your stiff casted hand, but it works even when you look super silly.

“Oh gosh! This is healing.” Yuta exclaims when his first cake comes out of the oven nicely and with a good aroma. You quickly take pictures and once it’s done, Yuta has already cut a slice and pops it into his mouth. “Yummy, I am talented indeed.” He sounds so confident and you hate to admit, his cake is better than what you expect and knowing your husband, you know he won’t stop bragging about this, he might even go as far as trying more baking recipes.

--

Your nightmare comes true, once his promotional schedule with NCT is over, he comes home with a load of baking supplies.

“Yuta, what’s all of this?” you ask when you help him bring in bags of spices, butters, and decorating tools.

“My promotional week is done and I have our well deserved rest! I am going to be productive and bake for you every day!” he smiles like a little kid who just get a chocolate and you can’t say no to him.

“Oh no, not every day Yuta!” you joke as you help him organize the spices into the kitchen racks.

He brought different types of flours and sugars, even bought yeast and baking sodas. Oh he really is planning to bake!

“Well, I have to finish some works have fun baking! Make sure you wear the apron and don’t set the oven too high. Wash the bowls too okay.” You pat his long hair and skip into your room.

Yuta takes his time to shower, sing in the bathroom, check the internet for easy recipes and even compare recipes from different websites.

His choice finally is decided on the famous banana cake, it doesn’t require mixer and he notices you have bananas at home.

“Flour, bananas, eggs, butter…” he bends to take the things out and places them all on the counter. Next he brings out the bowls and whiskers and the rest of the stuffs he needs.

“Okay all set,” he rubs his hands and takes the apron you have. Yuta’s lucky he can use your apron well, (thanks to his small waist). “And where is it,” he walks to the living room to get his small rubber band and as he bites the rubber between his teeth you happen to leave your room to get some water.

“Oh!” you exclaim when you see a hot scene reveling in your eyes. If you bring something, you’d drop it already.

There under the golden hours of the sun from the window, Yuta is tying his hair up and his lip bites is not helping you. Not to mention the apron fitting him well. You kinda regret not buying a “cute” apron.

“Let me help,” you grin when Yuta fails to tie his hair. Somewhat in the middle of tying his hair we was surprised to see you gawking at him. He blushes a little when you step closer and take his hair into one bundle and expertly you tie the band around it.

“There you go! Neat and tidy.” You click your tongue and run a hand down his exposed biceps.

“You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” you playfully ask him this when you learn just how “dolled” up he is. In your apron, smelling good, looking hot, and smirking.

“As much as you want me to tease you, see that?” he points to the kitchen and you follow his finger direction “I am baking you cake.”

You lead him to the kitchen, cool yourself down with a glass of iced water and Yuta starts to busy himself with the recipes.

He starts by measuring the cups of flour, sugars, and spoons of cinnamon and baking soda.

You choose to observe him instead of coming back to your work. You’re glad you have saved your works earlier and don’t have to return for it.

Yuta looks super serious when he cracks the eggs and starts mixing them to the dry ingredients. You take note at how accurate he is, you learned about the small details about baking through your rubric.

“Need help?”  you ask when Yuta starts to whisk the mixture together. He brings his bowl to his waist and with his tilted head and angled hand, he starts whisking the batter.

You have to hold yourself back when you see how he looks delicious right now. With an apron, a tied hair, tongue sticking out of his lips from focusing, his flexed arm and how he smirks at you. Gosh he’s the real cake here! You wonder how will he react if you suddenly come and bite him there on his neck which is inviting you to bite a mark there. Hey mark!

“No, I got this.” He winks at you and continues whisking the ingredients. Another minute passed by, he adds the mashed bananas and some cut apples for better taste. You focus on his actions but mostly enjoying the show he gives to you.

“You look hot.” You blurt that out loud as you secretly eat the choco-chips he will add later. “You think I look hot? You haven’t seen me whisk a whipping cream or make a meringue!” Yuta says as h places the bowl down and begin doing the next step.

You lean over the counter, eager to see what he is doing next. “Okay, all set just add choco-chips and stir and pour to container.” He smiles nicely to you, expecting to get praises or just a satisfied face. But all Yuta sees is your side smirk.

Yuta can always read you like a book, so without losing his cool, he checks you up from head to toe. He notices how you’re not focusing on him, biting your lips, and your ears and cheeks are as red as strawberries right now!

He connects the dots in his head and snaps his finger in front of your face. You jump in surprise “What?” you yell, clearly annoyed that your fantasy session is destroyed.

“No you’re staring at me too intensely! Stop it,” he acts like his innocence just got violated.

You click your tongue “Yuta, blame yourself!” you pull your hair in despair when you feel your body heating up more and feel tingles slowly creeping up.

Yuta is ignoring you when he shows off his flexibility by bending forward to put his container in the oven. “And that’s the right temperature, now we wait!” he tosses the mittens aside and leans his body to the table you’re seating at. He glances to the cup of water with only ice cubes left, he grabs it up and swirls it around before sipping the remaining drops.

“What are you looking at Princess?” his playful remarks are slipping from his lips. You bite your lips down and try to shake whatever idea you have in your head after seeing him drink the last drop of water like that is the best water in the world. His Adam’s apple bopping is not helping you at all, you lick your lips and lowkey will kill him for making this looks so yummy and advertise-able.

“Nothin’” you lie though it is as clear as day that you are “eating” him in your mind.

“You sure? You don’t look like that.” He says and then knocking the glass to his lips to take the remaining ice cubes in his mouth.

You nod your head and turn redder if it’s possible. Dang Yuta is clearly teasing you and you love it. “I-“ you can’t stop your sentence for the next thing he does is taking your lips there with ice cubes in his mouth. The cold sensation wakes you up from your day dream and you press your hands over his trained arms. He passes the cube into your mouth and you’re surprised with this new sensation. Oh Yuta and his surprises!

He continues taking you there until there’s no more cubes left and both of you are already breathing harder and the atmosphere has turn super hot. Next thing you know, you’re already on the sofa pinned down by Yuta as he teases you with butterfly kisses here and there.

“Yuta-“  you moan out his name when you have the chance, your hand pulls on his hair so he can stop kissing you for a while “Your cake.” You breathily remind him about the cake in the oven.

“Hm? My timer hasn’t gone off.” He ignores your attempt to stop taking you here.

“You want this right? Or do you want to eat me instead? You really look desperate earlier.” He nuzzles into your neck and gives some generous kitten licks there.

“Oh you were teasing me!” you defend yourself “Admit it.” You push him away to see his eyes and get the truth out, but Yuta is Yuta and he always has his way of making you lost. “No, I did not. You were this turned on by me, that you were having such sexy thoughts in the middle of the day.” His hand travels south and you already stifle a moan so he won’t be cocky about it.

He already plays with the hem of your pants, only seconds to pulling them away and eating you raw there, but his timer goes off and he has the biggest grin on his face, while you the biggest disappointment. “Yuta!” you’re already sounding so desperate, tears are forming in your eyes and Yuta only chuckles, he wipes your tears and stands up from between your legs.

“Oops! My bad, cake is done! Why don’t we try it when it’s hot?” he leaves you to turn the oven off and takes the cake out. He left you like that! All teased up and messy.

“Yuta- you will pay for this.” You groan before ignoring the pain from the edged pleasure and stomping your feet angrily to the kitchen.

“Come try this, tell me if this is good.” He offers you a forkful and you angrily chomp down on it.

“Bad.” You mutter, as you cross your hands over your chest but still chew on the delicious cake.

“Bad? This is so yummy! I can take this to the boys, and they’ll ask for more.” Yuta towers above you.

You pout “Fine, its yummy.” Your hand reaches out for some more bites, but you stop and shake your head “You. Finish what you did to me, or I cannot enjoy my cake.”

He giggles and in one swift motion already has you in his arms “Alright my princess, let me enjoy my cake instead!” he brings you to the room and you’re already giggly again, giving him kisses and playing with his hair.

You swear you will kill him if he only leaves you in the room and goes back to eat his cake in the kitchen, lucky you he did not do that. You both know that the cake will be cold once you’re done with the session but who cares when Yuta can bake more of them!

 And that is probably how you end up putting a bun in the oven with Yuta!

fin.

[adenei]

Always a Bridesmaid, Never a Bride - Chapter 1

Readn on: AO3 || FFN

Mozart found his calling at age five, composing his first minuet. Picasso discovered his talent for painting when he was nine. Tiger Woods swung his first club well before his second birthday. Me? I was eight when I discovered my purpose in life.

I was at the Hillsong Church in London for my cousin Tessa’s wedding. It was the first big outing for Dad and I after Mum passed away, and he wasn’t doing very well. I needed to use the bathroom before the ceremony began, so I excused myself to do so. As I was washing my hands, I heard a scream, and the bride came running out of her suite.

“Shit!” she said as she turned to look at the three inch tear on the back of her wedding dress. When she saw me, she apologized for her language. “Sorry, Hermione!”

“It’s okay, we have cable,” I said quickly.

“What am I going to do?” she said woefully to herself.

As I was drying my hands, I looked back in the mirror and noticed the bow that was tied around my head. I had an idea. 

I took the ribbon from my hair, and weaved it into my cousin’s wedding dress to hide the rip. I knew I needed to get back to my seat because Tessa was getting ready to walk down the aisle, but she stopped me as I headed for the door.

“Hermione, wait! Will you hold my train as I walk down the aisle?” Tessa asked me.

 And that was the moment. That was when I fell in love with weddings. I knew that I had helped someone on the most important day of their life, and I couldn’t wait for my own special day.

~o~

“Oh my goodness you’re stunning!” said one of the bridal salon stylists.

“Absolutely beautiful!” a second complimented.

I was smiling from ear to ear as I modeled a spectacular wedding dress made of taffeta with a sweetheart neckline. It really does fit me spectacularly well, I thought before my phone rang.

“Katie! Hi!” I answered. “Yes, the dress fits perfectly! You’re going to look so beautiful—yes, I know! Such a lucky coincidence that we’re exactly the same size!” I paused to listen to the rest of her directions. “Yes, I’ll be there soon. They just finished hemming. Remember, this is your day. You don’t need to worry about a thing!” 

I hung up and looked at the stylists, who seemed satisfied. They helped me out of Katie’s gown so I could change into my bridesmaid dress instead. It wasn’t terrible, considering the other bridesmaid dresses I’d worn in the past, but maybe someday the brides might pick something other than taffeta for the bridesmaid dresses. At least the lilac color was nice.

Remember how I said I fell in love with weddings? Well, I realized I had a knack for making someone’s wedding day special after I graduated from University. A study group partner had a bridesmaid back out and asked me to fill in at the last minute. Of course I said yes, since I didn’t know how to say no, and she gushed that I saved her day.

I would hardly call it ‘saving the day,’ but it did get me thinking. With no active love life of my own and very few hobbies outside of my job at an up and coming publishing company, I decided to put myself for hire. Wilkins Weddings was a one woman show, but my best friend and coworker Lavender Brown helped out on occasion. She was actually the one who came up with my witty slogan. Turn your ‘woes’ into ‘wows’ with this all in one wedding planner and bridesmaid for hire.

It was a decent side business, and tonight would mark wedding numbers twenty-five and twenty-six. I did say I had a hard time saying no, didn’t I? Ordinarily I would have declined the second offer, but this one wasn’t hiring. Parvati was my roommate and good friend at University, and I couldn’t say no! Her wedding was a bit rushed, but the venues were fairly close together with staggering ceremony times. I knew I could make it work.

Satisfied with my hair and makeup, I left the bridal salon’s dressing room and took the wedding dress off the rack on my way out the door. I had five minutes before I needed to meet Lavender, then we’d head to Katie’s venue. Despite being nearly late myself, I still beat Lav to the intersection we agreed on.

“I’m here, I’m here!” I heard her unmistakable voice call.

“It’s about time! I was beginning to worry,” I told her, a frown crossing my face. 

“Yeah, yeah. Remember I’m doing you a favor with this one,” Lavender reminded me.

“I wouldn’t call it a favor since I am reimbursing you for your time,” I retorted. She shot me a look. “Thank you for doing this, by the way.”

“I’ve got nothing better to do anyways. Why do you have all that stuff?” she asked me.

“Oh, nevermind that. Here, take this bag. It has tylenol, safety pins, anything you’ll need in a pinch.” I noticed Lavender’s hair. It looked like it was thrown up haphazardly into a messy bun. “Lav, did you even try to do your hair?”

“What? The bitch said up, so it’s up!” she chirped with an attitude*.

I rolled my eyes at her crassness. “I’ll fix it when we get inside.”

It wasn’t that Lavender couldn’t do her own hair and makeup. She absolutely could. Half the time, she was the one doing my hair and makeup for all these weddings! I just knew that if she wasn’t invested in something, then she couldn’t be arsed about it.  

It didn’t take long to get to the venue. Once inside, I handed the dress off to the maid of honor and fixed Lavender’s hair. Pictures needed to start in five minutes in order to keep the ceremony on time. Things had to run smoothly if I was going to pull this off.

As if they could hear my thoughts, the doors to the bridal suite opened and Katie appeared. She was a beautiful bride! The photographer quickly lined us up for pictures, and in between shots Katie nudged me.

“Aren’t the dresses great?” she asked. “The best part about it is you can shorten them and wear it again!” she said through nervous laughter.

I nodded and smiled. Rule number one was to always agree with the bride. It was funny how that saying had become a staple among all brides. I wondered if it was just something they said to make their bridesmaids feel better about spending all that money on a dress they’d only wear once. Because let’s be honest: no one ever actually shortens the dress and wears it again. I can attest to that.

The ceremony started shortly after we posed for pictures. I was trying to be conspicuous, but I knew I was obsessively checking my watch. The presider of the ceremony was probably the slowest speaker I’d ever witnessed. Finally, the ceremony ended and the bride and groom were whisked away to get their own photos done. I knew I wouldn’t be needed for at least an hour and a half when the reception was due to start, so I quietly slipped away and grabbed my bag.

I made my way outside and hailed a taxi. Luckily it didn’t take long for one to pull over. I climbed inside and pulled my hair out of it’s updo as I addressed the driver.

“30 Portman Square, please, and I’ll give you £300 flat for the whole evening on one condition.”

“Yeah, sure!” the driver said excitedly.

“You don’t look in the rear view at all. I’ll deduct £15 every time you do,” I told him seriously.

He looked surprised. “That’s easy. Deal!” The driver pulled onto the street and I began to undress. I needed to change into my other bridesmaid’s dress before we arrived at our destination. “What are you doing?!” he asked as I pulled my current dress down.

“Hey! We had a deal. You just lost yourself fifteen. No looking!”

He shook his head. “Fine,” he said as he shifted his eyes to the road.

When we finally pulled up to the address, I opened the door and paused before getting out. “I’ll be right back!” I took my bag and headed into the venue.

“Oh, good! You’re here! Do you have any of those extra thingies? I forgot mine,” one of the bridesmaids said as she rushed over to me. 

I reached into my bag and pulled out an extra bindi for her to put on as Parvati came out from an adjacent room. “You’re here!” she cried excitedly.

“Of course I am! I wouldn’t miss this for the world, you know that!”

“I know, I know. Wedding jitters I guess! Are you ready?”

“Absolutely,” I answered. 

The ceremony was a heartwarming blend of Hindu and Christian cultures as I watched from my spot next to the bride. I only had to check my watch a couple of times as the ceremony moved a bit quicker. I stayed for a few pictures before Parvati’s cocktail hour began and then slipped outside. My taxi driver, whose name I learned was Seamus, was standing outside, leisurely waiting.

“What are you doing?!” I cried. “We have to go! Move it!” I knew I was probably being pushy, but I didn’t have any time to spare. I caught him staring again on the way back, and quickly covering myself, I scolded him again. “You’re down to 270 now. Do you really want to keep this up? It’s great for me, but not for you.”

“Alright, alright!” Seamus said as his eyes focused back on the road.

I made it back  to Katie’s wedding in time for dinner, and luckily Lavender didn’t notice my absence. “So, I’m trying to decide between those two groomsmen over there. What do you think? The blonde or the brunette? I’m personally thinking the brunette myself. Tall, dark and handsome...really gives off the mysterious vibe, don’t you think?” she asked me.

“Are you really only thinking about sex right now?” I asked her incredulously.

“What else are weddings good for other than a one night stand? Besides, I really want a man to rip this dress off me with his teeth! You could probably use a good one night stand yourself,” she smirked at me as she got up and sauntered over to the men by the bar.

I shook my head as I checked my watch again. Duty calls, I thought. I grabbed my bag and headed back out to the taxi.

And that’s how my night went. I was secretly thankful for Seamus, even though he couldn’t resist looking in the mirror on more than one occasion. He stopped me before I walked into Parvati’s wedding in the wrong shoes, so I decided I’d give him £10 back for that at least.

The night went by like any other wedding I’d attended; the only difference being me splitting my time between the two. That meant two meals, two different instances where I helped the bride use the bathroom, two times I had to dance to the staple wedding songs like the YMCA and the Electric Slide, and two cake cuttings.

There were also two heartfelt speeches where the brides each thanked me in kind for all of the work I did and how helpful I’d been through the entire process, not that I was in the business for the recognition. I just wanted to see these brides happy with their perfect wedding. 

I was at Katie’s wedding for the bouquet toss. I found myself on the floor with all the other single ladies, but I’d long since given up hope of catching the bouquet. Yet, as Katie tossed it I realized it was headed directly for me! I raised my hands in anticipation and just as it was about to come into my grasp, I was knocked out of the way, and most likely trampled on in the process. It knocked me out, so I honestly had no idea what happened before I came to.

When I did wake up, everything was slightly out of focus. I turned my head to see the most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen, and the man behind them was quite attractive too. He was a redhead, which wasn’t usually my type, and he had freckles that covered his face, with a large cluster along the bridge of his long, slender nose. I’d never seen this man before in my life, and yet I felt like I knew him. 

I closed my eyes in an attempt to shake the thought from my mind. Don’t be ridiculous. He’s a total stranger, and he was probably the closest person nearby when you fell, I told myself. Lavender and another bridesmaid appeared behind the man as he maintained eye contact with me.

That was when I noticed my head was pounding. I moved my arm to grasp it and tried to sit up, but he stopped me. “Whoa, don’t move. It could be a concussion. That was a serious fall.” I heard him say. He turned around and looked at the bridesmaids. “Okay, I need you to get me some ice, you some strong liquor, at least 80 proof, nothing less, and you, go find a towel to cover the ice with.”

He reached out his hand and helped me sit up. “Are you a doctor?” I asked him.

“No, but Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Drunk were hovering so I figured they could use something to do,” he said as he flashed me a lopsided grin. “Do you know your name?”*

“Hermione,” I said simply.

“Hermione. Good. I’m Ron,” he answered.

I couldn’t help but smile back at him, albeit a bit shyly. “Thanks for helping me,” I told him gratefully.

He helped me to my feet and made sure I was alright. I nodded and touched my head once more. Things felt a little woozy and his strong arms caught me before I started to fall backwards again.

“Maybe you should head home. Let me help you get a taxi,” he insisted. I vaguely remember nodding as he led me to get my things and we approached the door.

Seamus was waiting outside as I got in. For some reason, Ron insisted on making sure I got home safely, even though I told him I was fine. The taxi ride started in silence, but I should have known that was too good to be true.

“Nice knickers, by the way,” he said a bit too casually.

“Excuse me?” I asked. What was he talking about?

“I saw you changing earlier. How many weddings are you in tonight, anyways? Two, three?”

“Two. Not that it’s any of your business.” So much for thinking he was genuine.

“It’s a little upsetting, don’t you think?” He asked. 

Who does he think he is, I wondered. I needed to think quickly. “What? They’re both—” I paused awkwardly, needing to think up an excuse. “They’re both really good friends of mine, so what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t let them down because their weddings fell on the same night! It was fine until I was knocked over and hit my head.” It wasn’t a complete lie…

“That’s not the upsetting part. I don’t know how people stand attending one wedding, let alone two.”

“What do you mean? I love weddings!” I defended myself, not that I needed to.

“Ah, yes. What exactly do you love? The bad food? The cheesy dances? Open bar? That’s what has me coming back if I’m being honest.” What was with this guy?

“What? No. If you must know, it’s seeing two people in love. The special time in a couple’s life when they’re bonded together.” I wasn’t about to let him win.

“Ah, of course. Love. How could I forget. Love is patient, love is kind. Love makes me lose my mind.”

I sighed. It wasn’t worth getting into an argument with him, so I changed the subject. “What is it you do again?”

“I’m a writer,” Ron said with a lopsided grin.

“Ah. Makes sense,” I said as Seamus pulled up to my place. I handed Seamus his money. “Thanks for everything tonight. Here’s £150. You know what you did.” 

“Well, thank you for—” I was about to thank Ron for his help tonight, but he was already out of the taxi. “Wait! Where are you going? Shay, don’t go anywhere. He’ll be right back,” I said pointedly.

“Don’t you think it’s a whole lot of wasted money, time, and effort for something that honestly has a fifty-fifty shot at lasting a lifetime?” Ron asked as he walked around to my side of the vehicle.

“Oh, lovely, another man who doesn’t believe in marriage. How relieving,” I said sarcastically.

“I’m just saying! The whole thing is hypocritical. The fancier the event, the less likely things are going to work out,” he said as he shrugged.

“How very insightful of you. Putting in the hard work to help hopeless romantics see reason in the face of love,” I shot back. “Do you also tell small children that Father Christmas isn’t real? Because you’re quite good at bursting bubbles, and someone needs to blow that shite wide open*.” I rarely swore, but this man was getting me all sorts of riled up.

 “Hmm, so you agree? Believing in marriage is a bit like believing in Father Christmas, yeah?” he said with a laugh.

“No! I—” Why was I letting him get to me? I didn’t understand it. I needed to end this conversation and get to bed. That fall was doing weird things to my mind. “I don’t need to be arguing with you about this. I don’t even know you!”

“Because you know I’m right?” 

“No! Marriage is hard. It takes work, and if you’re willing to work at something so much that you want to commit the rest of your life to that one person, then that’s special, and should be celebrated! Cynicism, on the other hand, is easy.” I held out my hand. “It was very...peculiar meeting you.”

“You as well,” he said as he shook my hand.

“Yeah. Goodbye,” I said with an air of finality.

“Bye,” he said. I crossed the street and stepped onto the sidewalk. I’d almost gotten to the steps when I heard him say, “Are you going to be in any weddings next weekend?”

“Very funny. I have to go. You can leave now,” I said, waving him off.

“I’m just wondering. How many have you been in, anyway?”

“It’s none of your business!” I called over my shoulder.

“Come on, just give me a number. Doesn’t have to be exact!”

“Goodnight!” I said as I punched in my code and shut the door firmly behind me. 

I shook my head as I climbed the stairs to my flat. Were there truly no genuine men left out there? Normally I’d put everything away upon walking in the door, but my feet hurt and head throbbed. So, I tossed the bag on the counter and changed into more comfortable clothes. I popped a few aspirin and hung both dresses up. 

I stared at the large closet in my living room and sighed. Even though I was exhausted, I took the few extra steps to hang the dresses up along with the other twenty-four that were shoved into that small space. I wasn’t sure why I kept them all, but I did. Maybe it was my little piece of nostalgia from each bride I helped.

The contents of the closet were about ready to burst, but I managed to shut the doors. Finally, I could sleep. I pulled the covers back on my bed, and closed my eyes as my head hit the pillow. Much to my dismay, thoughts of the negative redhead filled my mind. No matter how hard I tried to shake those thoughts away, he wouldn’t budge. It was a relief when sleep finally consumed me.

~o~

I woke up Sunday morning and followed my normal routine, which meant immediately collecting my newspaper. I sat down on the sofa and sifted through the different sections until I found the one I was looking for.

“Ah, the Commitments,” I said with a big smile on my face. 

As if weddings didn’t already consume the majority of my life, this was the reason I subscribed to The Telegraph, and I had no regrets. Billy Weston was one of the most prolific commitment writers I’d ever read. His coverage of weddings were always so romantic, and I only hoped that one day he’d cover my own. 

“Ha, take that Ron!” I said, thinking of the cynic I’d met last night. 

I was certain he’d never live up to this writer, no matter where his line of work fell. He’d do well to meet the likes of Billy Weston, who proved that romanticism still exists. Someday, I thought. Someday.

[seapandora]

Birthday wishes｜One-Shot

Bucky x female!Reader

A/N: Today is my birthday, so I just wanted to write something cute. I was planning something else entirely for Sunday, but I needed some fluff in my life, thank you very much! Please reblog with your thoughts and like if you enjoyed reading this. Info on a future series will be out very soon so stay tuned! GIF-cred to owner

Warnings: Fluffy, angst, age gap (Buck was born in 1917…), birthdays, age-paranoia

Summary: Reader is celelbrating her birthday, but wll she celebrate it on her own or will her love come home in time?

Words: 1439

August 13th  

Bucky was supposed to be home now, but he had been delayed in Europe. His book had sold more than anyone could ever imagine and he had had to add in dates for book signings. That was why Y/N was sitting alone in their shared bedroom watching some news.

After Steve went back in time Bucky and Sam worked apart from the state for a while. Doing more or less illegal missions, but saving people. After a very heavy mission, Bucky had decided to quit.

The money he had received as a war veteran had helped him buy a house in the suburbs of New York. It was fairly close to Steve and Peggy´s house, where he was often invited for lunch or dinner. A month or two after he moved into the house he adopted a shelter dog. It was a really sweet older dark brown boxer he had adopted. He had named the dog Commando after his former association with the group.

Commando was the sweetest old lady. The shelter had put her at 5 years but the vet Bucky had taken her too had confirmed her age to 7 or 8 years. She was a shy thing and it took her some time to warm up to Bucky but when she did she was the best dog. Commando could anticipate and feel when Bucky was starting to get anxious, and when he did she would curl up close to him.

Six months after that Bucky had met Y/N. She was a recently graduated journalist who free-lanced for different papers. Her latest project was a personal one though. She wanted to make an article about the anniversary of the end of the second world war, and she had her eyes set on Bucky for an interview. An interview he had happily given her.

He had been focused on telling Steves story before Y/N had politely stopped him and asked for his side of the story. She wanted to hear from the Seargent, not the captain. Bucky had been stunned but had started over with his point of view now instead. It was the first time someone had asked for his side of the story rather than him retelling Steves.

The article proved why Y/N had been so adamant about hearing his side of the story. She had already interviewed Steve, and yet the article was focused on Bucky rather than Steve. Reading the article Bucky saw his life in another's eyes. It was beautiful, and it was everywhere.

It gave Y/n the opportunity of becoming an editor while Bucky was approached by several editors who wanted to offer him the best deal to make an autobiography. It wasn’t until Y/N approached him and asked if he would consider it that he said yes.

One thing led to another and two years later, they were now married. The book had taken a long time and a lot of late nights to finish but four months ago it was published. Bucky was sent on a world tour as the face and mentioned author of the book while Y/N stayed behind and dealt with the publicity. She didn’t like traveling a whole lot and Bucky had promised to be home for her birthday.

And yet here she was, not a word from Bucky for the past three to four days. That was weird when you were married, right? Y/N thought so at least. Throughout her life, she had had people leaving her for, in their words, bigger and better things. Of course, her mind had begun to scare her into thinking the worst.

Commando could practically feel the anxiety roll-off Y/N and jumped up on the bed to curl up with one of her owners. It calmed Y/N in two ways. One, she had someone around to sleep beside, and two Bucky would at least have to come back, he wouldn’t leave Commando.

She sighed to herself and turned the sound of the tv as to not disturb Commando. “What do you say Do? Let´s sleep and just get tomorrow over with, eh?” She asked and looked down at the dog who looked back up at her with big eyes. Y/N chuckled and turned to her side turning the light off. She didn’t bother checking her phone since she knew she wouldn’t see anything of importance.

August 14th

Commando woke Y/N up bright and early on Friday that was Y/Ns birthday. Y/N groaned but sat up after just a few seconds. The other side of the bed was as empty as it had been the night before. She sighed and shook her head before she got up and got into some sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

Running always helped Y/N when she was overthinking. She hated running but did it anyway. Of course, Commando came with her, but Y/N´s running was at most a leisurely trot for Commando. They were out for 45 minutes before they came back home to have some breakfast and just enjoy the day.

Y/N could hear her phone go off with notifications in her bedroom but she made no move towards it. She got dog food for Commando before she made herself a cold smoothie. It was supposed to be a hot day so Y/N felt happy about having her exercise for the day done.

She enjoyed her smoothie in the kitchen while looking out the windows of the house. A car pulled up outside but she made no attempt to move. Commando didn’t bother until she heard the door at which point she went flying out to the hall to greet her dad. Y/N stayed behind and finished her smoothie before washing the mug off and putting it in the dishwasher.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her mid-section, one colder than the other. She felt kisses along her neck and shivered. “I don’t get a hug or even a hi?” Bucky asked softly and Y/N could hear the disappointment in his voice. “Yes well, I would expect that if I were you and hadn´t kept in touch for a few days,” Y/N bit back and closed the dishwasher before turning to look at Bucky who now had a deep frown etched onto his stupidly beautiful face.

“I told Steve to tell you I lost my phone!” He said loudly making Y/N flinch a bit. She had always had issues with loud noises and Bucky raising his voice wasn´t an exception. “Has he tried to reach you?” He asked and reached up to pull a hand through his hair. It no longer flowed to his shoulders like it once had but Y/N still liked it.

She frowned now as well and shook her head. “Well, I might have ignored my phone and all that because I didn’t want to feel anxious or stuff.” She mumbled and shied back a bit as if she was afraid. “Christ doll, I´m so sorry. I lost my phone three or four days ago, I hurried home as fast as I could.” He said and reached out taking Y/N´s hands in his own.

He tugged on her gently to pull her closer. That’s when the dam broke for Y/N and she began to sob into Bucky's chest. All of her anxiety was in vain, and she felt stupid for ever thinking Bucky didn’t want to be with her anymore. He had married her for goodness sake. “Please don’t cry doll, I should have figured out a way to reach you,” He mumbled and caressed her hair with his right hand.

Bucky didn’t know how to make it better so instead of trying with more words he picked Y/N up and carried her into the bedroom. Commando followed behind him whining softly. He placed her down on the bed carefully and got in beside her without taking anything off. Of course, he had left his shoes by the door but right now he knew Y/N needed him close. The weighted blanket they had gotten together was by the foot of the bed and he pulled it up over both of them.

Right then and there he promised to never ever be gone for Y/N´s birthday or other important days. Nothing was more important to him than Y/N. He sighed softly and held her close. “Doll I know it´s tough right now, but tell me your birthday wishes, tell me what you want. I´ll give you anything,” he mumbled and kissed her forehead.

“You, just you, that’s all I want and need,” She whispered and buried her head in his neck taking in the safety his arms provided her.

[seyaryminamoto]

Been thinking for a while that I’d like to do a light behind-the-scenes glimpse into one of the themes in the newest Gladiator story arc. While it’s not the very core element of the arc, the source of Azula’s current struggle in the story came from... an unexpected place.

Unexpected as in, it came from LOK.

Okay, in all fairness, it’s not quiiiiiiiite something that came from LOK itself, but it’s a take on an idea I had while pondering the various reasons why Asami’s character wouldn’t really take off for me in the show. Well, beyond the obvious reasons why it wouldn’t *cough* Book 2 *cough*... 

I’ve always said I’m more than a little confused by how a character like Asami, with just 20-something years of age at the time of LOK Book 4, has enough talent and know-how to not only be a top-of-the-line engineer (which, yes, is believable enough on its own), but to also be a CEO in her own company (I gueeeess since the company falls into her hands and she mismanages it plenty in Book 2, it’s not that impossible to feature this in conjunction with the first thing?), a clothing designer, an architect AND a urbanist, capable of driving every machine known to man, an outstanding hand-to-hand fighter...!

... If you really think about it in cold blood, it feels like a little too much.

BUT. Instead of boringly accusing Asami of being a Mary Sue (which I’m sure some people might) for having a thousand talents that we don’t really see her work for, that she just developed offscreen, I thought the show would have benefited greatly from actually focusing on how Asami is handling the constant, desperate need of so many authorities in Republic City to have HER resolving all their problems.

Therefore, instead of a Reunion episode with a conflict focused on rescuing a kidnapped Wu (whom I profoundly dislike as a character, not for his role, but his personality is simply barf-worthy for me and the amount of focus Book 4 gave him was, as a lot of things, detrimental to the show as a whole, in my opinion), I thought LOK’s Book 4 could have instead featured a Reunion episode focused on Asami... which, of course, would also be a nice way to fix some of the lackluster onscreen development of Korrasami. So... let’s go onwards with my episode pitch:

Picture that Korra is about to reunite with Mako and Asami for the first time in all those years, same as in canon. Asami arrives! Yay, Korra is happy, Asami compliments her hair, just like in canon... aaaand then Asami says she can’t really stay, she just dropped by quickly because this REALLY matters to her, but there’s this pressing issue going on at the company and she has to deal with it RIGHT NOW, because no one else can. So, woops.

Korra is completely disappointed (and probably doesn’t even understand WHY she’s so disappointed, hinting at deeper feelings for Asami that Korra hasn’t even stopped to reason with yet), but she sees Asami off while pretending this doesn’t bug her (for Asami’s benefit), and ends up spending the evening with Mako but clearly she’s not enjoying it as much as she hoped to. Which could result in Mako being pretty surprised by whatever closeness and bond those two seem to have now, noticing that he seems to have fallen to second place in Korra’s eyes somehow.

So! Skipping ahead, perhaps to the next day, Korra tries to check on Asami again! :D Oh, but she’s got to work on the airbenders’ outfits, some have been having trouble with the aerodynamics of it, and it’s just not working as Asami intended, so more calculations are needed! She takes to studying on the subject frantically, has to figure out what formula she’s missing or messing up, and while Korra offers to help, she knows there’s not really anything she can do to give Asami a hand since this stuff is well out of Korra’s area of expertise.

Then, when Asami is finally finished, OH NO! An emergency in the train she inaugurated at the start of the season! Asami has to go deal with that too! And of course, Korra goes too, while wondering how TF does this damn city even run without Asami...

... And then realizing it actually doesn’t. There’s a president who basically dumps all the difficult issues on Asami because she has the know-how and the resources to deal with all the city’s problems, there’s an airbending master who requested for that same girl to help with the designs of his people’s combat outfits instead of dealing with it himself or finding someone else to help, there’s an entire vehicle company (ranging from cars to AIRPLANES) that depends on HER. And it’s just SO. MUCH. SHIT. For a girl who’s like... 20? 21? How old is Asami at this point? xD I don’t even remember. But the point I’m trying to get to...

Is that Asami should be overwhelmed. She hasn’t had anyone helping her, she deals with everything alone, and it doesn’t matter how hard she tries to work through this, there’s always one more problem, one more obstacle, one more bothersome thing she has to tackle, and nobody seems to stop and think that maybe she could use a break. That maybe she needs a nap because she hasn’t had one in 20 months. That maybe things in this damn city would be in a better place if people didn’t rely on her, and her alone, to resolve the bulk of their problems.

Korra, though, with her latest character growth (... that I’m not really fond of anyhow, but still...), has become a lot better at understanding people’s emotions. And her job as an Avatar is, amongst many things, to help people: someone she cares about deeply, her best friend future girlfriend, is currently going through so much crap and the truth is, Asami needs help. Whether Asami realizes it or not, she needs it. And so, whether it’s Korra’s job or not to help her, that’s all Korra wants to do right now. 

So Korra enlists Mako and then all three deal with whatever that train emergency might be! Asami probably rejects their help at first, out of force of habit of doing everything alone lately, until Korra tells her she doesn’t have to do that anymore. And then Asami’s mind is blown because yeah, maybe there’s a bunch of older people in charge who are happy to dump all responsibilities on her! But that doesn’t mean she has to accept it meekly and save all their asses time after time... and it also doesn’t mean she has to deal with everything alone.

After the train problem is resolved, Korra and Asami (maybe Mako too? But for Korrasami’s purposes, it can just be those two) get to have a small chat about what life has been like for Asami since Korra vanished. The conversation doesn’t merely focus on Hiroshi, which... *cringes* let’s not get into that. It focuses on Asami and the hardships she’s dealing with, seeing as the city is basically using her as a non-bender Avatar, in the sense of leaving all the problem-solving to Asami alone. Korra probably apologizes, Asami probably tells her not to feel guilty, because she has had it rough, and Asami understands that better than anyone, especially after what she’s been through lately.

It’s a cute, heartfelt moment, not necessarily romantic yet, but featuring a strong, meaningful bonding scene between these two! Asami wants to go back to work on some pending stuff, and Korra respects that, though she warns Asami not to overdo it. Asami promises she won’t... and the next time Korra checks on her, Asami is asleep on her desk or something like that. Korra smiles and puts a blanket on her shoulders, and when someone else arrives to say something REALLY BAD is going on, Korra shushes them and decides to deal with it herself (as long as she can), and, if she can’t, she’ll find someone else to do it in Asami’s stead so the girl can sleep safe and sound for the first time in ages.

Episode pitch over! :’D

*siiiiiiiiiigh* alright, so yeah, this was something I originally thought of as a replacement episode, to further explore and establish a bond between Korra and Asami that wouldn’t really resolve all of the rushed-Korrasami problems... but it would make it so much clearer that those two share a different bond, and a very special understanding of each other, that the other two Krew members simply don’t have with either of them. It’d deepen their relationship, but the most important element about this for me was that it’d be an Asami-focused episode and plotline. However brief it would have been, my idea was to feature Asami facing her own problems, not problems based on her relationship with other people (be it family or romance). It was also a way to show that she’s not indestructible or just the go-to problem solver with neverending resources and talents that the plot can exploit at leisure whenever it feels like it. And, most importantly, that Asami can’t and SHOULDN’T be the answer to every problem in Republic City, especially when she’s only delivering those answers off-screen, offering the viewers next to no chance to see her in action, kicking ass at all the things she apparently has insane expertise on.

As far as I know, the two LOK comic trilogies haven’t really done much for Asami either. I haven’t read them so I could be wrong, but from what I can gather from comments of people who have read them and the books’ summaries, she’s still Korra’s girlfriend first and foremost, gets kidnapped so she can be used as a hostage to manipulate Korra, and then gets brainwashed into fighting against Korra...? If this is truly how it is, again, Asami just gets reduced to a satellite character, in the sense that she just revolves around other people as though that’s all there is to her character, canon-wise. Which... makes me sad. She had potential, plenty of potential worth exploring, if only the show’s writing had been more paused and allowed their characters to breathe and grow organically, as a consequence of their own actions and decisions rather than by being forced into hellish situations persistently until they broke out of desperation.

So... LOK really had the chance to explore a much more human side of Asami that they’ve neglected to acknowledge so far (from what I know), a chance to deepen her character by displaying that no one of such young age should have so many difficult responsibilities dumped on her shoulders... which, again, could be expanded into a metaphor for the Avatar’s role, showing both Korra and Asami as two highly capable women who could achieve great things... but who need a chance to be normal too, once in a while. From the looks of it, neither of them have had that chance in canon (yes, Korra was stuck in a compound all her life but Asami must have been stuck in constant lessons at every discipline she has mastered? If she can deal with all those jobs of hers as flawlessly as she has, I don’t think she had much of a life before LOK started), and it would have been really nice of the deeper, darker show LOK wanted to be to acknowledge that a bunch of grown-ups, who had relatively smooth lives in their youth, dumping so much heavy work on a pair of girls who are just becoming young adults and barely had childhoods of their own, is just damn nasty :’D just as it was nasty in a show featuring a much younger cast... *innocent whistling*

Alas, this was just one idea that won’t ever go anywhere in canon, as is obvious. I’m sure I mentioned it at least once before, not as thoroughly as I did just now, but this is more or less what I had in mind. If you dump a thousand things on a character, it would only be fair to let them suffer for it, to a fault. Maybe don’t feature them whining because they have soooo much work to do... but turn them into workaholics! Show that they’re struggling to make everything pay off, that this kind of burden isn’t child’s play because in real life, it simply wouldn’t be.

But, as there’s next to no chance Asami will ever get this sort of development, I merely stashed this idea on my back burner, in case it might come in handy in the future... 

... And then I returned to it once Gladiator’s Enforcers became a solid reality. Azula has been dealing with challenges that are rather different from those Asami dealt with... but ultimately, the responsibilities both girls have taken up, Asami in canon and Azula in my story, were just insanely big. Azula, in Gladiator, has had very little time to spare for “secondary” pursuits since the previous arc, and in the current one that has become a problem because she simply CAN’T stop working. She goes home and instead of going to bed, keeps on working. She’s constantly on edge, assuming that any time not spent working is wasted time, time she should take advantage of to further improve her projects and endeavors... to the point where people are starting to notice she’s slightly overwhelmed, extremely stressed out, and needs to calm down :’D

I really had wanted to explore these themes in overachieving characters, who take up far too many responsibilities, more than are reasonable. While I’ll always consider it a really big waste of potential that LOK never gave Asami this particular dimension, despite her character 100% warranted it, at least I had the chance to explore this with Azula instead, and I’m honestly really pleased with the result, because it suits her really well too. The outcome won’t be at all like what I just outlined for the LOK episode that never was, and the current story arc will take a vastly different direction... which is why I thought it would be fun to explain where this particular, new dimension of Azula’s character had come from.

Aaaanyways... the bottomline is, Return to Shu Jing is here. And I reeeeeally love this arc. I hope that those of you reading and staying up to date with the story will love it too!

[lambourngb]

So I moved my Sunday update to tonight in honor of @jumbled-nonsense​ ‘s birthday. Last Year’s Wishes is at 88, 076 words, give or take. 16 scenes to write, 13 days until the end of the month. My guess a little less than 29,000 words to go. Here’s a late addition to the story that I wrote the other day, Alex visiting Mimi. The rest of the story lives here. From the outside,  Sunset Mesa Assisted Living and Memory Care of Roswell looked similar to a resort clubhouse. It was a sprawling two story facility that spread out into sweeping wings with bright red roof tiles and Spanish arches. It was only the glaring lack of a golf course that kept it from being mistaken as a leisure destination. 

Since Maria had transferred the care of Mimi there, Alex had been making a point to visit at least twice a month. His first visit had coincided with being on base, and while the uniform had garnered admiring glances from the staff, Mimi had spent the afternoon addressing him as “Jesse”. His skin crawling, he  had made a note to carry spare clothes for any subsequent visit.

He had spent his childhood and teenage years borrowing mother figures from his friends, ever since he was 8 and his own mother had left. First Michelle Valenti, licking the cinnamon sugar off his fingertips when she made offered her hojarascas to him and then when Kyle had turned from friend to foe in high school, he had embraced Maria’s mother with her warm hugs and bold insistence on being himself, no matter who that ended up being. Mimi holding him tight, whispering in his ear that this was temporary, all while he felt so isolated and alone that maybe falling asleep and never waking was the better option, meant the world to him. It was not an exaggeration that he had considered harming himself at the ages of 14 and 15. It would have been entirely too easy with firearms readily available in his father’s house, never far from reach. 

For that alone, Alex would do whatever he could for Mimi. 

He scrawled his name in the visitor log, noting the frequency of Maria’s name above his. A pang of regret held him close as he thought about how complicated that friendship had become. It had once been the rare source of consistency in his transient life. Alex looked up at the charge nurse with a smile.. “How is Mimi today, Delores?”

“About the same, although thankfully she stopped leaving glasses of water everywhere.” Delores met his confused smile with a shrug, “Someone showed her Signs.”

“I thought alien related films were banned from movie night?”

“We had a new hire. They didn’t know, so for a while it was water, water everywhere with Ms Deluca. We’re back to Will Smith now, which I can deal with because that man is fine.” Delores took the guest book and gestured to the day room. “She’ll be glad to see you.”

Alex forced a smile and walked over to the brightly lit and cheerfully painted day room. As nice of Sunset Mesa was, and it was very nice compared to his experience with VA hospitals, it was still a place where families hauled themselves there out of obligation and their elderly relatives drifted like gray ghosts in the hallways.

Mimi Deluca was the outlier, at least thirty years younger than the youngest resident. She was never combatant, and seemed to help the staff when she could with the other patients. At a glance a newcomer would mistake her as a volunteer, except for the fact she wore slippers instead of the orthopedic shoes popular with the nurses. 

As soon as he drew near to her, she stood up from the soft overstuffed loveseat in the corner with a beaming smile, “Alex! Come here hot stuff and give me a hug.”

Alex mirrored her smile and wrapped his arms around her, absently noting she felt thinner in his embrace. “Mama Deluca!”

“My, married life is treating you well.” She patted his stomach teasingly. Her hands were bare of jewelry but still elegantly straight fingered and absent of age spots. “That husband of yours is feeding you well.”

A sharp pain radiated inside, as he kept his smile intact. Mimi, instead of mistaking him for Jesse, had started commenting on being married to a handsome man and it coincided heartbreakingly with his first visit after Michael had moved in. It was easier and harder to just go with it. “Are you calling me fat?”

Mimi beamed, and pulled him down to the loveseat. “Never, honey.”

The rest of the day room was largely quiet, with a group of residents staring at the flat screen television showing old game shows in the background. Mimi took his hand, and held it firmly. Her hair was resplendent as usual, cascading down her shoulders. 

Alex remembered from his original research for Maria that Sunset Mesa had sported a salon with someone on staff who knew the proper care and treatment of black hair, and every visit he had made had so far born that as true. “You look beautiful as always, Mimi. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine honey, can’t complain. But you, you are such a mix of happiness and stress. You know you will worry less once all the secrets are out.” Mimi lifted her finger to gently press on his forehead, forcing him to smooth his expression at the teasing touch. 

“Secrets?”

“The pieces want to be together, Alex, and that goes for the truth.”

He shivered at the repetition, but it wasn’t unusual. Mimi had often picked up repeated sentences from old conversations. Hearing her repeat Michael’s steady words from his bunker was still disconcerting. “You know I can’t talk about my work.”

“Hmmm. Now you sound like your father, but I wasn’t talking about that.” She smiled again and then put her arm around Alex, encouraging him to tuck into her side like he used to do as a teenager. “Tell me about your husband.”

“Michael’s fine. We went to Tinnie’s the other night. You would have loved our waiter.”

“He was hot?”

“So hot. Looked like he stepped out of a J Crew catalog.” 

Mimi laughed, delighted. “You’re making that up. I don’t believe you even noticed what that waiter looked like, too busy staring star struck at your hubby.”

“I plead the fifth.” Alex smiled, holding her hand in his with an affectionate squeeze. “He’s been busy at the garage, and I’ve started back at the base again until my commission is finished.”

“Work, work, work, Alex. It’s good you did dinner out together, you should keep making these efforts with each other. I’m telling you, things have a way of working out, without your intervention. Just stick all your troubles in the vessel. It knows what to do.”

Alex tensed in her hold, tipping his head up to meet her gaze. As he suspected, she wasn’t focused on him at all. “Vessel?”

“The ships, Alex. They weren’t just for moving from point A to point B. And what is distance but a state of mind?” Mimi threaded their fingers together, admiring the skin tones with a hazy joy. “These hands, the intent is what matters, for ill or for will. For better or worse.”

He closed his eyes briefly and summoned an even tone to keep her calm. Sometimes the talk of aliens, real or not, could send her into an agitated spiral.  “I’ve tried to keep my intentions pure.”

Mimi laughed again, “don’t con a psychic love. I was young once. Sex is still one of the best uses of our earthly forms.”

The conversation, like usual with Mimi, had slipped completely out of his control. His cheeks reddened in embarrassment. “I am not discussing that with you, Mama Deluca.”

Abruptly, her head shot up to stare toward the door of the day room. “Oh. Oh my sweet Maria. She’s breaking her own heart again. Unrequited love is such a sharp blade to kiss.”

Alex twisted to look over to the doorway half expecting to see Maria standing there. The hallway was empty, just Delores behind the check in desk. He frowned a little concern at the look of sorrow on Mimi’s face. “It might not be? Unrequited that is.”

“You can change your hair, you can change your name, but you can’t change your heart, Alex.” She sighed again, “Aliens might be able to, they have that type of power, you know. The vessel will hold you tight and make you someone else. It’s a change that is so complete you’re remade.” She gently traced circles on the back of his hand. “But this town has had enough of that type of whitewashing. When you think about it, it doesn’t matter what is buried or planted, some flowers will never bloom in Roswell.”

Alex nodded thoughtfully, and noticed the flash of dark hair and bright clothing just outside the doorway at the front desk. Just as Mimi predicted, Maria was here, chatting warmly with Delores as she signed the book. “I should go, looks like Maria is here too. You’re a popular woman today, not that it isn’t surprising.” He kissed her hand gently, and shifted to his feet, feeling the stretch on his right hip. “I love you, Mimi.”

“I love you too, Alex. You should bring that husband next time. I promise not to steal him from you.” Mimi winked devilishly at him, “not that anyone could. He’s been yours forever.”

He shook his head, pressing the sharp knot of want down deep inside. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Alex turned, hoping to escape from the day room exit before Maria caught sight of him. 

[elysiumwaits]

Weekly Werewolf Sitcom: Grocery List God

Part of my ridiculous fluffy pack-as-family, everyone-lives-nobody-dies AU called Weekly Werewolf Sitcom. They can all be read as standalones, because they’re all just fluff with no hurt. 

Grocery List God on AO3

Tags/Warnings: AU - Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies, Pack Mom Stiles, Pack Dad Derek, Derek is a Good Alpha, Stiles is 18, Shenanigans, Unconventional Dirty Talk That Isn’t Really Dirty, Banter

Notes: Inspired by me attempting to grocery shop this morning - I thought about writing this instead of focusing on all of the insane people and noise around me at Wal-Mart after church on a Sunday.

“Why the holy hell are you all here?” Stiles asks when he and Derek climb out the Jeep to find half the pack waiting in the grocery store parking lot. “Oh no. No, nuh-uh, we’re not doing this. Get back in your cars and go away, you will eat what we buy, and you will be happy with it.” He’s pretty sure that, although Derek is doing the stoic thing with his face, his eyes are smiling behind his sunglasses. 

In front of them, leaning on the bumpers of two different cars and looking like a ragtag group of hooligans out for trouble, are Jackson, Scott, Erica, Boyd, and Isaac. Jackson seems annoyed as ever, scowling with his arms crossed next to Boyd. It’s a tactical move, Stiles knows, because Boyd is the calmest of the bunch - Isaac, Scott, and Erica can easily build on each other and end up doing headache-inducing things like racing IKEA carts or climbing trees. Boyd won’t usually talk them out of it like Allison or Lydia will, instead opting to watch with blatant but quiet amusement, but by standing next to Boyd, Jackson is less likely to get goaded into doing something dangerous or dumb. 

Scott, Erica, and Isaac all turn pleading eyes on Stiles. “Stiles,” Scott says, apparently having been previously appointed as their spokesperson. “It’s Sunday! We always hang out on Sundays. This way we can hang out and be productive at the same time.”

“Uh-huh.” Stiles doesn’t buy this one bit. “You just want to come grocery shopping with us because you think you’ll get a say in what goes in the cart. You won’t get a say, Scott, we have a list.” He gives the paper in his hand an emphatic shake. “We are not deviating from the list. So go home, or to the loft, or go work on the house, or something far away from here.” He makes a shooing motion, and steels himself against three matching puppy dog faces (plus Boyd’s grin and Jackson’s scowl). 

What he absolutely isn’t prepared for, though, is for those three puppy dog faces (and Boyd’s grin and Jackson’s scowl) to shift from him to Derek. He barely has time to realize what’s happened before Derek buckles under the pressure and shrugs, which is pretty much a surefire yes in Derek-body-language.

Erica whoops, and she, Scott, and Isaac take off running for the cart corrals, presumably to get a headstart on wreaking havoc in the local grocery store, while Boyd and Jackson follow the terror trio at a leisurely pace.

“Don’t race the carts!” Stiles calls, rolling his eyes. “We can’t get kicked out, we live in this town!” He turns a glare on Derek. “You’re weak. You caved so hard. In like a second.”

Derek shrugs again, pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head. “They’re all going to college in a couple months, might as well get some time in before they go.”

“I am nineteen years old, Derek,” Stiles says, like he’s not grinning because Derek is such a sap, deep in his little werewolf heart. “I don’t think you’re allowed to have any kind of empty-nest feelings before the age of thirty-five, at least. They’re going to make a mess, and they’ll probably try to sneak junk food and god knows what else into the cart when we’re not looking. Your bank account is going to suffer from this, you know it will.” 

He’s not serious anymore, and they both know it. Derek has a good point - though everyone’s colleges are relatively close and Stiles is going to be taking online classes rather than going to a campus in the name of working on his Spark for a couple years, he’s going to miss his pack. Maybe that’s worth the headache of wrangling six werewolves into acting like people at the grocery store. 

He leans over and bumps his shoulder into Derek’s, grinning when the wolf looks over to catch his eye. “We’re going to end up with three carts of groceries, and you know it.”

“We have the deep freeze,” Derek says. “I’m gonna have to buy a fridge for the house anyway.”

Stiles snorts. “You don’t even have electricity at the house yet. You’re going to have two refrigerators in your loft, because you’re soft and you can’t say no to your betas. It’s going to be ridiculous, and they will love it.”

Derek nods, smile quirking at the corners of his lips. He’s so reserved in public sometimes that Stiles has a hard time reading him. “Jackson’s going to talk you into getting everything you need to make lemon bars, and Isaac’s going to just carry around craisins and salad mix until we tell him to put it in the cart.”

Stiles stops walking to watch as Scott takes off running - at a normal human speed, thank goodness - with Erica in the basket of a shopping cart. Jackson is currently being talked into pushing a cart with Isaac in it, and is clearly wavering from his safe place next to Boyd. This will probably end in blood or property damage. 

“No more than three packs of those M&M cookies for Erica, or she’ll make herself sick again,” Stiles says, looking at Derek. 

“Boyd likes that caramel popcorn stuff.” Derek nods, and snags the list out of Stiles’ hand and the pen from behind Stiles’ ear. He starts writing, and Stiles resigns himself to his fate. “He won’t ask for it, so it has to be on the list already.”

“Lydia and Allison aren’t here, but we’ll have to figure them in too, or we’ll never hear the end of it. Do we need to factor Peter in this week?”

Derek shakes his head. “He’s doing that thing in Nevada, so we can skip getting that coffee he likes. What about Scott?”

Stiles snorts again. “Scott wouldn’t know shy if it bit him in the ass, you know that. He’ll throw what he wants in the cart.”

They look at the modified list together for a long moment. 

“Alright, lowkey goal is to get everyone out alive and without bloodshed.” Stiles gives a fond sigh. “Highkey goal is to not get temporarily or permanently banned from this fine establishment, because I don’t want to have to drive to the next town over to grocery shop every two weeks.”

“Tall order,” Derek jokes. “We’ve only been banned from two places in town, babe, I don’t think the grocery store will-”

There’s a sudden loud crash, the distinct sound of a cart smacking into another cart, followed by a yelp, a thump, and then the loud blare of a car alarm going off. Stiles and Derek resolutely stare at each other instead of looking over at what is sure to be another hit to Derek’s wallet.

“Well, we can always have groceries delivered off the Internet,” Stiles says with a sigh. “You want to rock-paper-scissors to see who has to deal with that?”

Derek shakes his head, but still doesn’t look over. The car alarm is still going off, and the betas are suspiciously silent now. “Take the list and run. Maybe they’ll let us check out before they ban us if it’s already in the cart.”

“I don’t want to look,” Stiles mutters. “I talked Isaac off the top of a telephone pole a couple weeks ago, Derek. Erica and Scott are banned from three IKEAs. I hate to say it, but I think Jackson and Boyd are the good children.”

“We still have Allison and Lydia.” Derek looks over at whatever mess awaits him and gives a barely-imperceptible sigh. “Good news, no one is bleeding.”

“Bad news?”

“Erica appears to have rolled across the hood of a Toyota Camry. She and Scott look pretty guilty, and she hasn’t gotten off the ground yet. I think she may have dented something. There’s an upside-down shopping cart.”

“Where are Jackson and Isaac?” Stiles still doesn’t look. He’s not sure his blood pressure can handle it. “Do I want to know?”

“I think they left the scene of the crime, there’s an abandoned shopping cart near the front of the store.” Derek scans the parking lot. “Boyd is standing far enough away to indicate he wasn’t involved, but he’s definitely doing that thing.”

“The thing where he’s laughing but he’s not? Erica’s probably not dead, then, at least.” Stiles rolls his eyes and blows out a huff. “How’s that empty-nest thing going for you?”

“It’ll be quiet,” Derek says, and squares his shoulders as he prepares to go deal with whatever the hell they’ve just done to that poor Camry. “I’m not sure if that’ll be a blessing or a curse yet.”

“Little of both, depending on the day.” Stiles works up the courage and glances over, and, yep, that sure looks like Erica’s managed to dent a car they don’t even own. She doesn’t have good luck with cars, that’s for sure. “Okay. You go be the big bad Alpha, I’ll go start the shopping. Bring ‘em in if they promise to behave.” He leans in and presses a quick kiss to Derek’s face. “I’ll get you that weird carbonated water you like so much.”

“Get the kind I like,” Derek says quickly. “Not the berry kind.”

A grin spreads across Stiles’ face. “I will only get ‘the kind you like’ if you say what flavor it is.”

Derek glares a little, pretending he’s not about to break into a smile despite the chaos awaiting him across the parking lot. “Pamplemousse,” he says quickly. “You’re ridiculous. It’s a real fruit.”

“I just like hearing your badass, model-hot voice saying nonsensical words. It turns me on.”

“Collywobbles,” Derek says, low and seductive. “Bumbershoot. Lollygag.”

“Oh, baby, you get me so hot,” Stiles deadpans.

“Flibbertigibbet.” Derek finishes with a wink no one else can see, and then turns away, dropping his sunglasses back over his eyes to hide how amused he really is, putting a scowl on his face instead. “Reconvene in twenty minutes?”

“I’ll shoot for a speed-run.” Stiles starts heading toward the entrance of the grocery store they probably won’t be allowed into again after this. He does, however, take a moment to check out just how nice Derek’s jeans fit him, before he goes inside with Boyd following from where he’d been standing and witnessing Erica and Scott’s crash-and-burn. 

“There’s always online grocery delivery,” Boyd offers. “You know, for when we get banned.”

“You are all conspiring to give me grey hair,” Stiles says. “Come on, let’s go get your popcorn.”

[sometimesiwritetoo]

Tales of Carbuncle Farm - Chapter 2

Chapters: 2/?

Pairing: Noctis/Prompto/Luna

Rating: T for inappropriate humor

Warnings: None

Summary: Luna, Noctis, and Prompto may not have thought whole "let's run away" plan all the way through. But either way they had a farm, some seeds, and no where else to go so they might as well try to make Stardew Valley their new home. 

Check it out over on AO3!

Luna and Prompto woke up early a few weeks after moving in to find that the parsnips had finally grown. They immediately got to work pulling each individual parsnip from the ground and tossing them into their bags. At first the work was nice and she felt fine, but she quickly felt a shooting down her back as she bent and pulled parsnips from the small patch. The sun was just peeking over the horizon when they started and it had quickly risen high in the sky when they’d finished, and neither of them took a break. Once finished they dumped each and every parsnip into the bin for their Mayor to collect that night. It was only then that Noctis chose to wake up and head outside.

“Whoa, what happened to the plants?” Noctis asked while standing near the tilled dirt.

“We harvested the vegetables.” Prompto emphasised the dreaded v-word. “You know farmers are supposed to get up early, right?”

“Does it matter? I mean, do the parsnips really care if they come out of the ground at twelve instead of six?”

“You will when you get a sunburn on your entire face.”

“The sun can’t hurt me.” Noctis said dismissively.

Luna saw Prompto roll his eyes, and she did have to agree that it was fairly bold thing to say. The only person to burn faster than her was Noctis. Prompto was the only one she wouldn’t neg about sunscreen, but that was because he actually tanned. She would’ve pointed this fact of Noctis’ inferior genetics if the mailman hadn’t walked up their farm. Noctis ran to collect the mail and complete his first task of the day.

They watched Noctis thank the mailman, then carefully open the letter so he didn’t rip the envelope. He glanced over it for all of ten seconds before running towards them.

Noctis didn’t say anything about the contents of the letter. He came up and planted a hard kiss, that felt more like a headbutt, right on her forehead. He did the same to Prompto’s chin before racing off with a: “Gotta do something important I’ll make us a lot of money, byyyyyeeeee!”

He’d raced off the farm without any other explanation.

“...What was that about?” Prompto asked her.

“I don’t know, he’s your boyfriend.”

“Why does he have to be my boyfriend? Why can’t he be yours?”

“Prompto I am a hard working farmer, I have no time for relationship,” She dramatically flipped her hair over her shoulder, “My work is all I have.”

They took turns taking a shower, which was a fixture not actually in their home. Instead a tall, wooden box had been installed on the back of the house and a hook up installed above it to hold the hose up. When they arrived there hadn’t even been a curtain, and she insisted that they all take the bus a town over to purchase one and some soap. She quickly scrubbed the grime off her body then laid out under the sun while Prompto showered so her hair dried.

After all of that they were both very ready for lunch so they headed into town for another meal at the saloon. Gus’ evening menu had a little more to choose from, but she did miss home cooked meals. Being limited to a select number of items was a little depressing, and she had wanted to learn how to cook. And eating out all the time rather than consuming their own produce was growing expensive.

“We should go ask Robin about her upgrades,” She swirled her fry in a little cup of ranch. The ribeye sandwich it came with had been good, but she’d ideally not eat it for quite a while.

“I doubt we can afford one right now.” He replied.

“Well we can find out what we need right? We can ask her if she can build a kitchen.”

“You planning on cooking often Luna?”

“You planning on having that salad every day for the rest of your life, Prompto?”

He pushed the tomato through the oil and vinegar. “Fair point.”

They paid their tab then made the rather long trek up the mountain towards where Robin’s cabin was supposed to be. There wasn’t an address, almost none of the residents of Pelican Town had addresses, so she was certain they had gotten lost several times. This made finding her house a welcome surprise.

Robin’s house was large and beautiful, which Luna expected from a carpenter. In the front a young man in black was working on his motorcycle. He didn’t acknowledge either of them so they let themselves through the door that had an open sign hung on the doorknob.

“Welcome!” Robin chimed. She set down the tools she was using to whittle at a small statue. “Have a nice walk up?”

“Yes, it was very scenic.” She replied. “We were wondering what kind of improvements you’d designed for our home?”

“Looking to upgrade?” Robin ducked under the counter then returned with a big binder. She flipped through until she found the label with their address then opened it up to the first extension. “This is what I was thinking. A modest kitchen with a nice, big window. I noticed you didn’t have either with your current blueprints.”

“Ooooo.” Luna didn’t know much about blueprints, but she loved the sound of a kitchen and a window that was big and clean.More room, a freshly made food, sunlight coming through in the morning. It was so nice of Robin to put all this work in already to help them decide on buying it. “How much?”

“14,500 gold.” Robin replied. “But if you give me 450 planks of wood I will take off 4,500 gold.”

“Oh.” She thought back on the parsnips they’d harvested. There was no way those few parsnips would be worth that much.

“Thank you ma’am.” Prompto said. “We’ll call you if we decide to go with that.”

“Okay, have a nice walk down.”

It was a long, sullen trek back down the mountain. Prompto wrapped his arm around her shoulder half of the walk down, but it did little to comfort her. They’d worked hard, and she hadn’t expected to just be handed everything, but they were so far away from that expansion it felt like they would never get there.

“That was nice of her, to have a quote ready for us.” She said in an attempt to lift her own spirits.

“It sure was.” Prompto didn’t sound convinced of that, but she ignored it and focused on walking down towards town.

They picked up sandwiches, two salami and a meatball, for dinner then headed home expecting Noctis to be back, but when they arrived he wasn’t there. They waited until six before deciding to start on their dinner without him then snuggled under the bed covers to watch a kids show on the public network.

There were no sign of Noctis until nine at night when he arrived proudly carrying three freshly caught fish. The fish were so freshly caught that they dripped fish-water-juice on the almost cleaned floor.

“Hey guys, guess what I got!” Noctis announced.

“Where did you go?” Prompto asked.

“I went fishing with Willy! He gave me a line and showed me a nice spot outside of his shop!”

“You went fishing the entire day?” She demanded. Noctis seemed to catch on to his faux pax, and backed away when she jumped out of bed and stalked over towards him. “You just leave without telling us to laze the day away? That’s low Noctis!”

“I didn’t laze the day away Luna!” He held the three fish out to her like an offering. She refused to take it. “I caught us dinner, I thought you liked fish?”

She sighed. It was hard to accuse Noctis of any wrong doing since he didn’t have a mean bone in his body, there were too many stupid bones in his body for there to be room.. “We can’t eat them Noctis. We don’t have a kitchen.”

“We could eat them as is. It’ll be like a caveman sashimi.”

Prompto reached over and took the fish from Noctis’ hand, “How about we leave them in the box for Mayor Creeper to take?”

“Prompto we can’t just leave a bunch of fish in a regular box. They’ll smell.” Noctis protested.

“Well then the mayor can’t miss ‘em.” Prompto headed outside and laid the three down into the box next to the parsnips. He came back inside and wiped his fishy hands on a random towel.

“I swear Prompto if we wake up to rotting fish corpses in there I’m making you clean it.” Noctis protested.

They piled into bed that night same as every night. Noctis fell asleep first and his snoring kept her from sleeping for a good twenty minutes, but she was slowly becoming used to it. In the morning she was the second one up, coming to right as Prompto was pulling on a pair of socks to check the mail.

A pile of gold was left in the mailbox right next to the receipt. There was a handful of gold left for the parsnips and another smaller pile of gold for the fish Noctis had caught. The total was significantly more than what she expected for a few parsnips and some tiny fish.

“Should we branch out? Get some cauliflower?” She asked. Luna didn’t know if it would be beneficial at all to branch out or if they should stick to what worked.

“Yeah we should branch out. We should also start thinking about making preserves jars and stuff. Maybe when we have enough money we can buy the supplies?”

They threw back ideas, but there were few avenues she felt comfortable enough taking up. She didn’t think she could take care of animals nor did they have the means of cooking and selling food. The conversation soon took a negative turn, however, when they arrived at Pierre’s to see it closed.

“Closed on wednesdays,” Prompto sighed, “Guess we’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“What should we do until then?”

“I dunno. Explore town?”

“I suppose. I’m going to go up north then, I thought I saw a park.”

“Okay, I wanted to look through the forest near the farm. Let’s meet back at the farm at three okay?”

They synced watches before heading out. She took a leisurely stroll up towards the park, which was more like a play area next to a decrepit, old building. A decrepit, old building that Mayor Lewis was standing outside of. She tried to hang back towards the playground and not disturb him.

“Ah, farmer Luna. Funny to see you here.” He said.

So much for that. “Nice to see you too Mayor Lewis. What brings you out here?”

“Just contemplating this old building. JojaMart wants to purchase it, but I’ve forbidden it unless they get one more membership card holder.”

“Okay…” That was an odd stipulation, but she figured her had his reasons. “Why not spruce it up if you don’t want to sell it?”

“Don’t have the money.” He complained. “This used to be the town community center, it’s where all people of Pelican Town could come to if they needed work or resources. Now it’s a pile of wood. Would you like to come inside?”

“Sure.” She said reluctantly.

The insides weren’t much better than the outsides. The windows were covered in gunk and half of the floor was too dangerous to walk on from the splinters and nails. In the corner an old fish tank was too dangerous to go near due to the shattered glass littering the floor surrounding it. But none of that caught the Mayor’s eye quite like the small dirt hut in the other corner.

“Hmm, what is this...? I guess the kids snuck their way in. I’m going to have to update the newsletter so parents can warn their kids to stay away.”

Luna thought that was a very smart idea, she truly did, but she got distracted when a tiny, green apple poofed into existence behind the mayor. The mayor caught on to where her eyes were focusing on, but when he turned to look it disappeared.

“What are you looking at?”

“Oh, uh, I thought I saw something,” She tugged at the end of her hair, embarrassed.

“Don’t worry, this place is probably infested with rats,” He walked turned his back to check under a piece of floorboard for the supposed rat, therefor missing the second apple that popped up just behind him.

“Ah!” She yelled which made the mayor jump. He straightened up and scanned the floor, but by then the apple was once again gone.

“Saw another one did you.” He laughed, “Ah, I suppose that’s a good reason to leave. Wouldn’t want you to get ill from spending your time in this eyesore.”

Lewis left quickly, but she made some pitiful excuse to stick around so she could find those creatures again. The main room got a thorough picking over, then the pantry and the crafts room. She nearly died after she tripped while searching in the management office and the basement was too dark to see anything. None of these rooms revealed a magically appearing apple, but she did find a small, gold scroll in one of the rooms. The writing was strange, and she couldn’t decipher it so she kept it in the spot she found it. After some more fruitless searching she left and decided to try and forget about it all.

It was eleven when she arrived back home. WIth nothing to do until her boyfriends came back she chose to chop down a few trees, smash some rocks, and make an attempt at a preserves jar. They’d found the simple blueprint under the bed, but it took being creeped out in an old community center for her to attempt building one.

She worked on it until three when Prompto arrived just as she was finishing up the top. It wasn’t the most beautiful jar, but it stayed together when she picked it up and set it down.

“Niiiice.” Prompto said. “You actually made one. We should buy some stuff that would make good preserves.”

“Do you think people would purchase pickled cauliflower?” She joked.

“Rich people will pay out the nose for artisanal stuff Luna. We’ll just need to put organic, fair-trade in front of it.”

She wanted to rebut that, but she suddenly found that she couldn’t. Her last meal in Tenebrae before sneaking away had been non-gmo, organic rhubarb jam on whole wheat waffles with hand squeezed orange juice. She never thought that all of that stuff could’ve been made by a couple of incompetent farmers aiming to make more on their produce, but she supposed that half of the joy of running away was finding out something new.

“Let’s try to make more of these.” He continued. “Maybe make a keg or two too?”

“Sure.” It was at this point that she wanted to tell Prompto about the walking apples, but she held off. It was probably just her imagination. They had better things to worry about.

“Saw Noctis down at the river. He’s having a lot of fun fishing all day.” Prompto said as they headed on inside to watch the T.V.

“He’s gonna come back when he starts getting lonely. Or ask us to come down and watch him fish.”

“Probably. We’ll tag team it. Just sit behind him and grunt when he talks so he doesn’t know it.”

They laid in bed and watched Livin’ Off the Land until they both felt tired. It was an hour long special on how to build a scarecrow that Luna genuinely found interesting. She took mental notes then fell asleep very early afterwards.

The next day there only major source of income was Noctis’ fishing. It was a little lighter than the day before since Noctis didn’t catch a catfish, or really any fish of note, but for Luna the cash wasn’t nearly as interested as the mysterious letter she got in the mail.

I heard of your encounter the other day. Come to my tower if you wish to learn about these creatures further.

Wizard

Luna contemplated throwing the letter away and ignoring it. She did not want to go to some strange man’s home to talk about hallucinations. Unfortunately, she was a sensible person who knew better than to ignore something so strange.

“Guys.” She said. Prompto was counting how much they had while Noctis sat at the table trying to wake up. Neither of them turned to her but she knew she had their attention. “Yesterday in the community center I saw little creatures. I thought I was imagining them but this man says I wasn’t. Would you go with me to speak with him?”

Noctis looked very confused. “Uhm… when did you go to the community center?”

“Yesterday while you were fishing.”

“Oh…”

“Will you go or not?”

“We’ll go with you.” Prompto said, using that voice that he tended to use when he was trying to prevent her and Noctis from spiraling into a long debate as their political background dictated. “We should get new seeds planted first before things get too hot.”

All three of them quickly made the walk down to Pierre’s store. His daughter, Abigail, was up helping shelve seeds, but they didn’t stick around to chat too long. After filling up a bag with parsnips, potato, and kale seeds they headed back to the farm to plant each and every one in similarly long rows. The row closest to their home was full of potatoes then kale and finally parsnips. They watered each row with their broken watering cans until Prompto felt they were finished. At a quarter past noon they left their farm and traveled down through the forest to The Wizard’s home.

He hadn’t given any directions, but Prompto had explored the area the day before and knew where the tower was. It wasn’t too far of a walk for them, so they arrived quickly without getting lost.

They knocked twice, and when there was no answer Prompto suggested they leave. But then Noctis turned the handle to find it unlocked and after some debate they both convinced Prompto to enter.

The inside was not as dark or creepy as they expected. It was instead brightly lit with beautiful, hardwood floors and tall ceilings. A circle was carved into the floor at one end and a T.V stood near a wall. At the back there was a long bookshelf with a door in the center separating it into too. And in the center of it all stood The Wizard.

“So you got my letter.” He dramatically announced. “I am M. Rasmodius also known as The Wizard, Seeker of the arcane truths, mediary between the physical and ethereal, master of the seven elementals, keeper of the sacred cha-... nevermind.”

“Hello Mr. Rasmodius.” She replied nervously. The man was strange looking with a long robe and a big pointy hat. The outfit was so garish and chitzy that she thought the man was either tricking them or crazy.

“I have long foreseen your arrival.” He said. “Here let me show you something.”

Rasmodius waved his arms twice towards a circle engraved in the floor nearby. A flash of light and then the image of one of the creatures she saw was projected just a few feet away.

“Behold! You’ve seen one of these before.”

“Yes! See guys, that’s what I saw.”

“That’s not an apple that’s a blob Lu.” Noctis said.

“It looks kinda cute though.” Prompto said.

“They call themselves the Junimos.” The Wizard interrupted. “A race of nature spirits, they, unfortunately, refuse to speak with me.” He waved his arms and the image disappeared. “I don’t know why they’ve made their home in the center, but you have no reason to fear them.”

“You weren’t able to read the scroll either?” She asked.

“What scroll…?” Prompto muttered.

The Wizard seemed confused by this too. “There was a scroll? I will have to investigate this myself.”

In a flash of light he was gone, leaving them alone in his home.

“... Luna I think we should leave.” Prompto said. “This is freaky and I thought we all ran away to get away from stuff like this?”

“Yeah, we sh-...”

The front door opened and closed, The Wizard was back. They all immediately shut their mouths.

“I found the scroll you spoke of.” He said. “It was an obscure language, but I managed to decipher it. It read: We the Junimo are happy to aid you. In return we ask for gifts of the valley. If you are one with the forest then you will see the true nature of the scroll.”

“Cool.” Noctis said. “I guess we need to, like, go camping…”

“It is not so simple…” The Wizard began pacing across his apartment. “One with the forest…. Hmm.”

He approached his cauldron. “My cauldron bubbles with items of the forest can you smell it?”

“You bet we can.” Prompto said. “But I’m not going to drink that.”

“You must drink this. Let the essence of the forest permeate your body.” The Wizard filled a cup with the green juice and handed it to her.

Luna had major doubt about this, but one of the benefits of her bloodline was that she could expunge corruption from herself and others. If it was poisoned then she’d easily be able to save herself and her boyfriends. So she closed her eyes and took a big gulp.

It tasted bitter and earthy, which was at least what she expected. She handed it off to Noctis who quickly took a sip to get it over with before shoving the glass into Prompto’s hands.

“Luna please don’t make me drink this.”

“Prompto!”

He looked as if he were about to cry, but he soldiered on by plugging his nose and downed a mouthful. His skin took on a green hue after the fact, but he kept the contents down.

“Go forth and right what’s wrong.” The Wizard said before teleporting them all to his front porch. A quick test of the door showed that it was locked.

They were halfway home when the silence was finally broken.

“I can’t believe you made me drink some crazy dude’s protein smoothie.” Prompto complained.

“If we can figure out what these creatures want then it’s all worth it right?” She said.

Prompto didn’t look convinced. “It better, especially since I’m probably going to have the runs after this.”

[mystic-heads-blog]

Gaming - @mysme69minutes​ Time: about 52 minutes! Wow, this one is probably the most domestic thing I’ve ever written. I really want to write more, but I’ve been writing stuff on literary works the past three days instead of fics, rip. I’m trying, though! For now, have a domestic Jumin and MC and their adventure with rhythm games in 1570 words!

You quietly sit on the couch, headphones covering your ears and a tablet on your lap, playing one of your new favourite games. There aren’t as much rhythm games as you’d like, but you’re getting by with the few you did manage to find, and you’ve really improved over the past few days. You hum along to a song as you tap your fingers on the screen, smiling as you finish the song with a full combo. “Yay!”

Just as you exclaim in happiness, Jumin enters the penthouse, and wondering what you’re so happy about he asks what you’re up to. You don’t hear him, however, so he walks over to you and removes your headphones. “What are you so happy about, MC?”

“Jumin!” You exclaim, still focusing on the screen, the game being a lot harder now that you can’t hear the music. “You’re ruining my combo!”

“I’m.. sorry?” Though he is unsure what exactly he did wrong just now.

You manage to pause the game and look up at him pouting, but then hug him anyway. “Welcome home, Jumin.”

“What are you playing?” He asks, now more interested in the game than your greeting.

You smile at his curiosity, shaking your head. While generally polite, Jumin is still really used to getting what he wants. Luckily for you, you were one of those things – but now so is the answer to his question, so you guess you have to introduce him to the games you’ve been playing.

“It’s a rhythm game. You tap along to the rhythm of the music,” you explain, showing him the screen of your tablet. “Though it gets considerably harder when someone removes your headphones,” you add accusingly, pulling them back onto your ears and continuing your song. Though not a full combo now, you manage to finish the song without failing, looking up at Jumin as you’re finished.

Jumin had been watching the screen intently, though he couldn’t quite see the appeal of the game. “Did Yoosung get you into these?”

“No, though I bet he’d like them.. Why?”

“I didn’t know you were into gaming.”

“I like gaming every now and then.” It wasn’t like you were a full-time gamer such as Yoosung, but when you had the time and the right game struck your fancy, you were definitely willing to spend your spare time on said game.

“Can I try?”

“Sure,” you said, a bit surprised, handing him the tablet.

Though the game hadn’t seemed appealing to Jumin, if you were into it he was willing to try it out. While scrolling through the songs, however, he found that he knew none of them, so he let you pick one instead.

Picking one of the easier songs, on normal instead of hard, you waited as he played the song.

Focusing on the screen, Jumin looked rather cute, and he didn’t seem to be doing too badly, either. By the end of the song, his head was slightly moving along to the rhythm, and when the results popped up he looked back up at you. “How did I do?”

Checking the results, you smiled up at your boyfriend. “Not bad, especially not since it’s your first time playing!”

“I think I can see why you like doing this.” While he hadn’t known the song, tapping along to the rhythm and focusing on just that had been somewhat.. relaxing.

“Right?” You laughed, then put the tablet aside. “What are we doing for dinner tonight, Jumin?”

He helped you up, something that had become a habit, and took you to the kitchen. “I decided to cook myself. But I could use some help.”

You really thought he could get used to asking for help instead of this.. mildly demanding tone, but regarding cooking you weren’t going to object. While he had been practicing, he was still prone to burning things or messing things up generally, considering he’d been provided for his entire life. But since he saw you cook, he’d been determined to learn to cook himself, when he found the time to actually do so.

Of course, he was just learning this in order to surprise you with dinner once he was good enough, something he was very well aware of, and you a bit less so.

So part of the evening was spent preparing dinner and consuming it, after which Jumin went on to revise some documents and you went on to play your game, and the both of you eventually went to bed, Jumin holding you close like usual.

But he wasn’t holding you close when you woke up, his phone in his hands and earphones in his ears as his head moved from side to side. It took you a moment to realise what he was doing, but then you smiled, watching him while he was still unaware.

After finishing his song, he looked at you, seeing you were awake and softly kissing you. “Good morning, MC.”

“Morning, Jumin. Did you download the game I was playing yesterday?”

“Yes,” he admitted, showing you his phone screen. “Playing the song yesterday felt rather meditative, so I decided to try if it worked for prolonged amounts of time, too.”

“How long have you been up?”

“An hour?” He said questioningly, then looked at the time. “That said, I should get ready for work.”

He left you in bed after giving you another kiss, shouting a goodbye at you before he left the penthouse.

Since you had the week off due to spring break, you leisurely ate breakfast and took a shower, after which you started playing again. But it didn’t take long before you got a message, with a screenshot from Jumin of his new high score.

You couldn’t help but laugh, but then your eyes widened when you saw his score. What? That was almost as high as your high score. You played a song yourself and sent a picture of your score, still higher than his, with which he replied with a score even closer to yours than his previous one.

Are you sure you’ve just been playing for an hour? You text him, shaking your head and pouting. He definitely wasn’t going to beat you at this.

During breaks at the office, too.

You’re on a break? It’s 11am.

I’m CEO. Who’s going to stop me from taking breaks whenever I want?

Jumin Han! Get back to work while you’re there. People are relying on you. If you keep this up, your employees might get in trouble.

I thought you’d like me playing.

You pause, gently biting your lip. It’s not like you don’t like him playing, but it seems rather unfair that he’s getting better than you already.

I do. But you shouldn’t play during work hours.

Fine. I’ll get back to work, then. I love you, MC.

I love you.

And with that you got back to playing more seriously, determined not to let Jumin beat you. Around lunchtime, however, you got another screenshot – a score higher than yours – which you therefore ignored in order to keep your focus on the music.

You weren’t competitive at all, obviously. And neither was Jumin. Both of you were very okay with losing.

But when Jumin finally got home and saw you playing, he was frowning. “MC, are you okay?”

Once again you didn’t hear him, the headphones blocking outside noise, and this time he waited for you to finish your song before removing your headphones. “You didn’t reply to my text.”

“I was working on beating your score,” you replied matter-of-factly, about to put the headphones back on.

“And did you?”

“Yes. But you’re apparently good at this, so I have to keep playing!”

Jumin looked at your screen and score, then smirked. “My high score is still higher.”

“No it isn’t!” You objected, pouting as he pulled up his phone and the proof. “Damn it!”

“You’re not going to beat me, MC,” Jumin chimed. He might love you, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to tease you when he got the chance. And he didn’t get the chance very often – generally you made it seem as if you were a very composed person.

“You’re not allowed to play anymore,” you said as you took his phone from him and put it in your pocket. “Now.. Go do some work while I beat you.”

“I think I’m going to sit here and watch instead.”

“Fine, whatever.”

You were definitely a sore loser. And definitely competitive. But after a few more songs, you’d finally beaten his score, exclaiming a ‘Ha!’ and looking at your boyfriend triumphantly.

“Did you beat me?”

“Yes!” You said excitedly, showing him your score.

“I’m proud of you, MC,” he said in an almost mocking tone, though he pulled you into his arms. “I had no idea this game was so important to you.”

“It’s not,” you answered, realising how foolish you’d been acting. “I’m just very competitive.”

“And I’m very glad I found out about this,” Jumin said, a grin on his face. “I’ve finally found something I can use to tease you.”

“Damn it!” You exclaimed, though laughing and shaking your head. “You’ve found my one weakness.”

“Really? I bet there’s more to find.”

Jumin then proceeded to kiss you, softly, then passionately, and you soon forgot all about the game in order to make room for some other kind of pleasure.

[lifeofaernthota]

Peach Sorbet (PG-13 Please Read The Warnings Ya’ll)

title from Girls With Slingshots

this is like pg-13 maybe a little R but there’s definitely vague references to silver’s dick so read at your own risk. uhhh warnings? kink play, begrudging acceptance of said kink play, and comedy so please don’t come in expecting to fap this time just hold off on that.

I finally got this thing edited and got @kurt-l-fahrenheit‘s approval.

also bless @silverlining-ffxiv for being the best husbando on earth and letting me vaguely humiliate our roes together. 

Evenings passed slowly in the comfort of the mismatched basement. This suited Silver well enough; a few moments without the world ending were rare these days it seemed. But there were still comfortable chairs, finely upholstered and sturdy enough for the large Roegadyn to relax upon, and piles of books to tear through at his leisure. It was a bit of the homey comforts he’d left behind in Thanalan when he began his adventure, some he wasn’t going to give up on so easily.

Of course, it also helped that Aernthota was there as well. Sprawled across the couch, her feet resting in Silver’s lap as she too enjoyed the moments of stillness.  They could always find time to linger in each other’s presence; usually with Silver busying himself with notes and thick tomes he’d snatched from somewhere while Aern devoured serials and transcriptions from wandering bards. As much as she complained about her perpetually low funds, Aern could always scrape together enough gil to snag a new book when the travellers came to town (though she had to believe that Silver had something to do with that since he never seemed to be as shocked as she was). For hours, the pair would sit in relative silence and enjoy their books and each other’s company; their only breaks were to eventually eat and then sleep.

But that evening felt… well, off.

Not in the traditional sense of panic and terror; those were things that they had both grown used to and were ready to jump into action over. Instead this was closer to tension, something that Silver noticed as he finally broke away from his own work. It prickled the back of his neck a bit and he glanced over to where Aern’s head rested against the arm of the large couch. Unusually, she hadn’t said much since they had both settled in… Her attention hadn’t shifted once from the thin book she’d picked up from the last trip out. There were no markings on the spine or the cover, only black leather embossed with a simple flourish. For all Silver knew, there were untold secret hidden on those pages… or something worth giving a look at himself.

“New? I don’t think I’ve seen you reading that one before.” His eyes lingered for a moment on her, caught the gentle bob of her head as she nodded wordlessly. But nothing more in response beyond a slight shift of her legs in his lap.

A few more seconds of silence fell, and Silver finally gave up on making more progress in his own reading. This newfound mystery was so much more interesting…

“Speechless huh? If it’s that good, I might just have to read it myself someti-”

He was cut off by a small squeak from the other side of the couch as Aern straightened up and finally looked up at her husband. “Ah! N-No need! It… I mean you know bards; they always just embellish. All fluff and no substance… Ahaha…”

And that’s when he knew that something was very seriously amiss. Aernthota was never the type to be so coy, especially not in private. Not to mention, she constantly encouraged him to indulge in her low brow fiction to “broaden his horizons.” She was definitely hiding something, but he knew Aern well enough to not press any further. She would crack sooner rather than later. Until then, Silver only had to wait for her to crumble. He gave her a nod before picking up his own book and returning back to his reading.

A few minutes later, almost as if he’d planned it himself, Silver heard the small thump of a book being closed. He kept his head down, smirk hidden by a thoughtful hand as Aern began to shift some on the couch. Finally she settled back, her head in his lap and her eyes shut. The hand to his mouth drifted down to her hair and began to stroke languidly. Whatever tension seemed to come from the book in question was quickly dissipating. “Finished already, dew drop?” His voice was soft and playful, hopefully enough to coax out whatever seemed to be bothering her.

Aern stay silent for a moment, humming listlessly as she enjoyed the affection. Eventually, she spoke up. “Mmm… Just curious. In my reading, lovely stuff really.”

An eye cracked open to look up at Silver’s face, and he shut the book he was no longer focused on. As soon as she was certain his full attention was upon her, she continued speaking. “It… Well it works on a theory on how if someone loses a sense… the others. Ah… The others kinda… kick it up a notch. Is that…. Well does that sound about right to you?”

“I… suppose. Though that seems a little heavy for a bard to be selling in some bar. If you’re interested in medical information, starlight, there is plenty to be discovered.”

Aern’s cheeks grew slightly red at this and she shook her head (gently as there were some very important things nearby that she wanted to keep in good shape). “It… It’s less medical and more… Well… Say you weren’t able to see? That would make you hear better and ah… make you feel more right?”

Well… This was going somewhere and Silver wasn’t entirely sure if he liked it. His hand paused against her head and he looked down into the eye looking back up at him. “Are you plannin’ on me going blind anytime soon? I am older than you, yes, but I’m still pretty far from the grave.”

“N-No! Just… ah… Nophica’s thighs how in the wor-just!” She sat up, careful to not smack anything as she leaned over to grab the small black book from the floor. With a small guilty smile, Aern pressed into Silver’s hands. He opened up to a page at random and began to read the tiny text.

And he too quickly found his face growing hot.

“Master Momomi, please be gentle. The cruelty of my Nuhn has left me so delicate there. Even the ministrations of my fellow Seeker females is almost too much to bear!” The miqo’te girl trembled as her new master approached her with a thin strip of linen held between his hands. Her eyes closed as he stood before her and the soft fabric settled over her eyes, blocking anything from sight.

“Come now L’fsor. For I am born and raised of Ul’dahan merchantry and am familiar with your people. Know that while it may be strange, you will feel nothing but pleasure by my hands.” Quickly, a strip of leather wrapped around her wrists as the Lalafellan noble began to kiss his newest prize.

Silver had to pause at that point, if only because his laughter kept his eyes from following along any further. Aern’s sound of displeasure was smothered in a giggle of her own when the sudden outburst hit the silence that had fallen around them. A few seconds of Silver’s untamed laughter quieted as he wiped his eyes and carefully held the book up to check the front cover for a possible source of such drivel.

“S-So… Do you often have fantasies of being a ravished Miqo’te maiden? Or can I blame a wandering minstrel for instilling such ideas in you?”

Aern responded by snatching the book out of his hands and turning away from him. For a brief moment, Silver actually wondered if there was a nerve he’d pressed a little too hard before her shoulders began to shake with silent laughter.

“Gods forbid, could you imagine me turnin’ into one of those types? No it’s… Well I’m not gonna make you read any more of that but it… Well.” Aern turned back around, her cheeks a little less red but her eyes still not fully meeting Silver’s. “It’s more just somethin’ to try. What’s the worst that could happen? I mean besides the terrible dirty talk but ah… What’s t’say being tied up and a little helpless wouldn’t be fun.”

“Er… Aernthota, not to say I’m not fascinated with the whole idea, but are you sure you really want to try this? You said it yourself, they tend to embellish this sort thing. what if you start to panic some when you can’t see? Or some kind of emergency crops up? I’d hate for y-”

Aern leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of her husband’s nose, enough to make him trail off into silence for a few moments and allow her to speak up. “Oh but my dear sweet Sylb, there’s no way I’d be the one tied up.”

And before Silver could even force a distressed sound out, Aern stood and headed for the stairs.

And then there was silence on the topic for a few days. Given her initial embarrassment over the subject, Aern seemed to maintain her regular jovial attitude around the group. Silver did as well, though he was constantly on the lookout for any shifts in her demeanor. Every time she spoke to David or Popola, he watched carefully. Any giggles shared between her and A’onisya were treated with mild suspicion. If his wife was planning on tying him up like some parcel, he wouldn’t be caught unaware under any circumstances.

But days passed with the same normalcy as ever. The routine of gathering and hunting and being social kept them secure and eventually Silver assumed that, like most things, Aern had let the entire situation slip her mind.

Until the package arrived.

It was too large to fit inside the mailbox, so the helpful delivery moogle had placed it upon the steps for the first resident to retrieve when they returned home. Silver had almost tripped over it and brought it inside to Aern who was carefully brewing something on the stove.

“Those damned pombrains… Nearly killed myself over this. Were you expecting anything? It’s a bit hefty if you ask m-”

There was a small clink of glass against glass as Aernthota hastily sat down her half full vials and wiped her hands against the thick leather of her coat. “Ah! I was waitin’ for that! Let me!” She took the package from him with a small kiss to his cheek and rushed down the stairs. Silver, a bit dumbfounded, watched for a few moments before simply ensuring the heat had been turned off on her potion mix and pulling off his long casting gloves.

When she appeared again, Aern’s expression was impish. The package had been left behind as she stepped out into the room to greet her husband. “So my love… Ah… D’you have any plans for tomorrow? Specifically tomorrow evening. I know you’ve had a long day and I’d hate t’rush into somethin’ brand new but ah…”

“... Sunshine is this about that book?”

“I-I’m just sayin’ I’ve had a few things… prepared for th’whole thing an-”

“Oh gods be good I just assumed you’d lost your nerve over the whole thing. You hadn’t spoken about it in a few da-”

“Lost my nerve? With you involved? There’s no way, Sylb… I want to do this with you, love. Yer th’ one I want t’feel good a-and if y’really really don’t wanna try this, then I’d just appreciate ye sayin’ somethin’ a-”

As she felt her tongue growing looser and falling back into the thick Limsa accent she’d tried so hard to lose, Silver’s finger pressed to her lips. She faltered and grew silent, and he leaned in to kiss her cheek softly.

“Aernthota, we promised each other, before the Twelve and everyone else, to go wherever the other one traveled. That we would explore this whole world hand in hand.” A sigh punctuated his words but there was a smile that crept upon his face as he continued. “So as… hesitant… as I am about trying to recreate something you saw in a shoddy novel, I’m willing to… try.”

Joy blossomed across her face, and she brought the back of his hand up to her lips in silence. Silver couldn’t help but pull her in closer for a few soft kisses against what parts of her face he could reach amid playful giggles. Hopefully those would stifle the bubble of nerves that poked at him.

The following day had an air of excitement buzzing around the home. The pair made their usual rounds of gathering and housekeeping, all the while subtly hinting at plans to those most likely to call upon them that evening. (Which was received quite well by Niah’tan and A’onisya and elicited a few laughs and nudges from Renaud). Once they were certain the night would pass in relative silence, they finished up their daily duties. Late afternoon came, signaling the final sweep of Dravania for any minerals Silver may have needed to collect before heading home to settle in for the night. He flew with a sort of slow urgency, as if heading back to the Lavender Beds was both exciting and nerve wracking. He knew that he had agreed but…

“Sylb, is everything okay?” The ping in his linkpearl almost startled him off the back of his chocobo.

“Ah of course, starlight. Just one final check of the area and then straight back home to you. Are you… Preparing?”

“... Ah… I think. I was wondering if I should bathe before you get here but I think everything else is ready.”

“Oh? And have me miss a show? I’m certain that if you just wait for me to get back, we could share the tub.” Silver’s voice took on a cheeky tone, perhaps in an effort to persuade her to hold off on washing up so they could just relax together.

With a small squawk from Aern on the other side, the pearl went quiet. As much as he hoped, there was no dodging what she had planned for so carefully. No amount of mining would take away from that. And so Silver waited around for the sun to sink down beyond the horizon before concentrating on his home and carefully teleporting himself to his front step. The chilly Dravanian air shifted to the gentle breeze of the Lavender Beds, and he opened his eyes to see Aern leaning against the doorframe, wrapped up in one of Silver’s many robes. He approached her with a smile, carefully pulled her into his arms, and whispered low and rough into her ear. “Gods be good, if I could see you like this after every long day…”

Even with her gentle laugh, there was an edge of excitement in her voice as she fumbled for the doorknob behind her while still keeping a tight grip on the cloth around her shoulders. “Eat something… Wash up… And then…” She sighed as Silver kissed her clavicle, and pressed her way back into the cottage.

Silver looked up while stepping inside, careful to note that the helpers they employed around the home had been dismissed early. It sent a small jolt through his chest, his heartbeat picking up as he followed her downstairs. There were plates set up at the table, obviously cooked with a touch of assistance from somewhere since Aernthota could barely boil water without smoke. It wasn’t a perfect meal by any stretch of the imagination, but Silver could sit there and get through the slightly overcooked dodo and the strangely seasoned vegetables by keeping his focus on the next step.

This would be much easier if it was broken down into steps after all.

Their conversation was sparse, food and nerves keeping their mouths relatively busy. It was only when Aern stood and grabbed her plate did Silver find the words that had been lost. “Wash. I uh… I’m going.” And without waiting for so much as a nod, Silver bolted towards the door into their chamber. The comfort of the close quarters helped him center; pulling off his gear also gave him the chance to relish in the excitement of this new turn, for better or worse. It almost made him nostalgic for their first night together, that thrill of newness coupled with worry. It wasn’t an unwelcome feeling, just one that he hadn’t been anticipating ever again.

And sinking down into the hot water with a groan, Silver allowed himself to drift away from the impending moment for a few long minutes of silence. The creak of Aern’s pacing upstairs seemed to die down after a bit, leaving nothing but the sound of Silver’s breathing, the soft crackle of the hearth, and the gentle drips from the faucet. The perfect storm of soothing made Silver’s eyes droop and the tension in his neck slowly ease. The day’s worry and hesitation melted away; hell he could almost feel a shudder of excitement at the prospect of his wife waiting for him on the other side creep down his thighs when...

“Sylb…” Silver started a touch as Aern’s voice came from the door. “When you’re finished up ah… Come out here?”

He grunted in response and stood, the crash of water breaking the peaceful silence. He wasn’t entirely sure he was finished with his bath, but the request was made and any further contemplation in the water was sure to be a bad decision. Grabbing a well worn cotton shirt and simple clean breeches was obvious; there was no point in risking the gear he had fought so hard for when something simple (and easy to remove) would suffice. This was a comfortable night together, a night the pair would have more pressing issues which would preoccupy them. It didn’t matter how they looked at the end of it all. But Silver paused at the closed door for a few seconds to smooth his beard and run his hands through his damp hair. He wasn’t hoping to look put together by any means, but felt right to fake his way into some semblance of “composed” before opening the door back out into their living space.

And he was so very grateful he did when he saw Aern standing there waiting. His old robe that had been around her had been discarded for something impossibly thin and lacy, something he was certain he’d spied upon an Au Ra woman lurking by a market board one evening, but in Aern’s carefully measured sizes. Enough to keep her decent but only just. He felt himself stare for a second, doing his best to discern what fabric it could possibly be made of that would hold the deep green color so well but still show the delicate tone of her stomach (as well as shamelessly oogle his wife’s body no longer under layers of boots and stiff robes) before stepping forward towards her. “Is this what came in that package? Because there was no need to hide this from me when we could have gotten plenty of use out of it already…”

Aern shook her head and beamed. It was clear that if nerves plagued her, they hadn’t worked their way to the surface yet. “S’not the only thing… But now’s not the time. Come over here an’ sit.” She pointed to one of their dining chairs, a terribly delicate sylphic thing that she swore had character. Silver followed the request with a curious smile.

Looking over to the table, several new things occupied their previous dinner space. A chunk of finely worked material, a thick set of leather wristguards connected by simple rings in the middle, and a small pot of something milky white sat there, their presence alone making Silver’s throat catch. “Deviating from the source text, eh? What would that Miqo’te maiden say if she saw your arsenal of new tools?” Hopefully humor would be enough for smooth sailing.

Aern offered another bright smile before simply grabbing the cuffs and stepping behind him. She was gentle but purposeful when she took his hands and placed them behind his back. The movement made Silver stiffen for a moment until the touch of fingers against his neck. A gentle pulse of something he’d grown to recognize as regenerative magic washed over him, and he couldn’t hold in the chuckle any longer.

“Oh hush you. Y’always seem to feel a bit better when I do that… Is… Is this position okay? Don’t wanna hurt shoulders or anythin’ else.” Aern squeezed his hands, waiting for some kind of response. When Silver nodded, he felt the thick leather close around his wrists and tighten down. He could wiggle his fingers, which he did to brush against the fine fabric of Aern’s new attire and tickle her just to hear her laughter near his ear again. As she pulled away, it hit Silver that this wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. No, his arms weren’t accustomed to this yet and there was a gentle burn starting, but it was something he could endure for as long as Aern needed him to.

At least, he could endure if he could continue to shift on occasion.

“Now ah...  Here. Lemme just…” Amid Silver’s shifts and settling, Aern had picked up the fabric and stood before him to wait. As soon as it was clear that he wasn’t in a state of panic or shock, he nodded for her to continue. She leaned and took his face to kiss him softly, the brush of silk against his cheek and the warmth of Aern’s skin too fleeting for his taste. And yet as he leaned to press in further, she pulled back until the soft clunk of cuffs hitting chair stopped him. She grinned down at him with excitement before slipping the cloth over his lovely green eyes and tying it behind his head. It was a little tight, something Silver was certain would loosen over time but still shook his head to alleviate. The pressure was enough to keep his eyes closed, which apparently meant the blindfold had been doing its job well.

But then, there was only silence. He knew that Aern couldn’t have gone terribly far away from him, but it was the first time he hadn’t felt her presence nearby. He breathed for a few seconds before asking (in what he hoped was the proper direction before him) “Aernthota? Are you there?”

His answer was gentle pressure against his neck. Something warm pressed carefully down to his shoulder, light and fleeting but enough to make Silver’s head roll to the side. The giggle he heard from just above him was a relief, and the soft thump of footsteps around him trailed off as he assumed she hit the rug. And perhaps that’s when he noticed (or rather tricked himself into believing) that he could hear more. Tiny things like that sounding so clear… Maybe there was some validity to this whole thi-

While he had busied himself with reassuring thoughts of success in their experiment, Aern had moved on from his neck and suddenly there was much more pressure against his dick than he was anticipating. That caught him off guard and with a soft hiss, his shoulders tensed up and the rings of the cuffs behind him clinked. “Thal’s balls, wh-what are you doing?” Again, no response came from his wife: only careful pressure against his chest and the soft dig of nails into the exposed skin near his neck. A shudder rolled down from scalp to toes, spending an extra throb in his groin against whatever she had so carefully placed there. His hips shifted, something he would swear was only for comfort and not for whatever vestiges of contact he could muster in such a position. But even this less than subtle motion was subdued by a slightly harder press against his chest. The nails bit in deeper and, for the first time, Aern spoke up since the blindfold had gone on. “Be patient… okay?”

It was supposed to be reassuring, but only made Silver groan. “Surely you’re not going to leave me in such a state for too long.”

The nails against his chest pulled down an ilm or two until they caught cloth. He bit his tongue to keep from swearing as he pulled against the cuffs again. If he really got desperate, it wouldn’t be impossible to break the links and say it was a failure in design. He had more than enough strength to do it and surely it wouldn’t be a disaster if things didn’t work out. Settling into a comfortable posture again, Silver paused and waited for the proper time to break out. It had to be perfect or else she might be suspicious and then…

He felt an odd little tremble between his thighs before there was a shift in weight. The nails that had been against his chest had curled up up and then there was only a fist pressed against skin, trying to keep him seated and still. And there was also the softest sound above him of pages turning furiously.

Surely she wasn’t…

“Sunflower… Are you flipping through that book for instructions or what?”

The sound of something crashing into the tea set on the table beside him was the only answer he got. It was at that point that it all became too much. No delicious pressure or thrill of inevitable sex could quell the laughter that spilled out of him.

“Y’know y’don’t have t’be so godsdamned astute, Sylb.” The fabric around his eyes loosened and dropped off, light stinging his eyes for a second before they focused onto Aern’s form again. There was a shaking knee, from fear or nerves or both, placed between his thighs and a resigned expression plastered on her face. “S’not like I’ve ever done this before… I figured help would… yanno?”

“I know,” Silver never thought he would be so pleased to see her red hair and freckles as much as he was in that moment and took a brief moment to simply drink up the sight of her before finishing his thoughts. “and while I appreciate all of this effort and warm up, I don’t believe we need all of this to enjoy each other.”

“I know we don’t but…” Aern shifted herself to perch neatly on Silver’s lap. The chair beneath groaned in protest at the addition of another Roegadyn, but she only tilted her head to press against Silver’s brow. “Can y’blame me for wanting to do something new? I’m always worried with everythin’ changing that… Well. What if tomorrow somethin’ wild happens. All the sudden we’re back on the run again? Maybe when things are safe an’ secure is th’best time t’change and play an’ see new things.”

Without looking, Silver blew a kiss towards Aern’s cheek. His burst of lust had slowly burnt itself down into a smolder; it was easy enough to focus on her words over the tension in his body. His voice was barely more than a whisper as he spoke up. “It’s fine. Even if this rest of this realm changes tomorrow, I will always be completely and wildly enamored with you, darling. You never have to do more than simply continue being the beautiful, adventurous woman who stole my heart.”

“S’that all?” A twinge of a laugh was present as she moved her head in to kiss Silver’s nose gently.

“That and tell whoever made you that ridiculous set of undergarments to make you about eight more of them so I don’t feel guilty ripping them clean off when you unhook me.”

That made Aern laugh in earnest, straightening up only to lean in once more and finally kiss her husband properly. Without pulling away from Silver, she shifted her weight in his lap, brushing against whatever half wilted erection was left with whatever she could carefully manage.

“So…” Her voice slipped down into a sultry purr as her hips rolled slowly, Silver cursing under his breath between occasional tugs against the chair, “Does this mean you’d like to be fr-”

CRACK

“Well what a surprise! Miss Aernthota here after her busy evening. I am to assume that means your plan and subsequent purchases were successful?” Kurt’s voice was clearly pleased, albiet concerned with the slight limp the Roegadyn seemed to carry as she approached him in the Goblet. Though that hardly seemed to be any of his business, honestly. Despite all of his assistance in acquiring materials needed, he had asked very few questions at all throughout the whole process. Perhaps that was why Aernthota had come to him in the first place.

After the appropriate greetings and required hugs, she nodded and held out a burlap sack for the man to take. “Y-Yeah it turned out fantastic but say… Y’think I could call in a quick favor? Things may have gotten a little…”

Before Aern could finish, Kurt had lifted a hand to silence her and reached for the sack. For a second he looked entirely confused as his hand fished around before upturning the whole thing into the middle of his lush lawn. Splintered wood and brackets tumbled out, their delicate sylvan glyphs and designs almost impossible to discern.

The miqo’te man remained silent when faced with the destruction before him until he simply could not contain himself any further. “My gods woman, what happened to this poor chair? Did thirty of you try sitting in the damned thing?”

“Ah… No just… Well just two of us! There was a fair bit of… well. Movement I suppose.” There was no shame in Aern’s voice as she spoke up, something that made interest in her evening and her limp wane even further.

Kurt Fahrenheit had heard many things in his life but this… His ears flattened as he carefully nudged the broken chair pieces into a more uniform pile and placed the bag down on top. With a polite cough and another lift of the hand, Kurt swished his tail and cut her off.

“No no. Miss Aernthota, I respect you far too much for you to tarnish your standing with me by finishing whatever explicit story I am sure you were going to regale. So let me go to my workshop, do “something” for you, and pretend like I never actually had any contact with your coitus chair. I will send you a… Carefully worded message on the Linkpearl when your request has been finished.” And without another glance down, Kurt strolled back to his workshop space with a small determined glint in his eye.

Perhaps he would make the next set of chairs for the Roegadyn something more sturdy if that was the kind of thing they enjoyed.

[lsaraypritchart-blog]

A Collection of notes from Wednesday Artist Talks.

Assemble 28/09/2016

http://assemblestudio.co.uk/ https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2015/nov...  

Turner Prize Winners 2015 Assemble are a collective based in London who work across the fields of art, architecture and design. They began working together in 2010 and are comprised of 18 members. Assemble’s working practice seeks to address the typical disconnection between the public and the process by which places are made. Assemble champion a working practice that is interdependent and collaborative, seeking to actively involve the public as both participant and collaborator in the on-going realisation of the work. Petrol Station to Cinema, 2010  - learn and teach each other Material experimentation  - project and music space 'The right to the city is far more than the individual liberty to access urban resources: it is a right to change ourselves by changing the city. It is, moreover, a common rather than an individual right since this transformation inevitably depends upon the exercise of a collective power to reshape the processes of urbanization. The freedom to make and remake our cities and ourselves is, I want to argue, one of the most precious yet most neglected of our human rights.' David Harvey. Baltic Street Adventure Playgroud, Glasgow  - Space for children and they have complete control 

- Being a tool to create someone else's vision South Liverpool, Granby Workshop - planning and growing stuff in the street - CLT - Community Land Trust - design houses, open ended - turning house into garden space/art space - residential space, community space   - giving back to the community and local people - product development, testing out new processes - trying to make practical things but playing around   - recording mistakes when they happen - taking the positives away from the negatives   - processing and shaping

After listening to the Assemble talk I decided that there was certain parts of their work that I partially liked. I enjoyed seeing the Petrol Station that had been changed into a Cinema. I think this was a great use of an old petrol station as it makes it more modern and gives back to the community. I enjoy the aspect of Assemble's work as their main focuses are on giving back to the community and giving people and the audience more control of the piece and the outcome. This to me is a good idea as it changes the vision of the finished piece. It goes from being a representation of what you wanted to being interpenetrated to what and how someone else would represent it instead. That is what art is all about. Taking something that is a representation of something else or someone else's idea and representing it in a different way that is it the same thing but different. I am also interested in the way Assemble focus on product development, they test out new processes in order to try and make practical things however, they are still just playing around and record when mistakes happen, this is an important factor in art from my view as it shows that it is important to fail and that mistakes happen. We use them as a learning curve during our process to develop and strengthen it.

Stuart Bertolotti Bailey – 05/10/2016

Graphic designer – 20years, fields cross over: film, lit, fine art. The Serving Library – 35 Water Street Liverpool. Dot, Dot, Dot Journal; started as Graphic Design, open to change. Journal serious and funny, text heavy but not academic writing. Had to try and find ways to trick people into writing. Instead of writing about subject, did demonstrations of it, issue 9 of Dot, Dot, Dot. Small, after hours organisation. Hit a wall, needed funding. Published list at back of cover of who owed money and how much. – had a positive approach. Gallery in Switzerland, experimental, unusual thing. 3 weeks working in space. Asked for money in advance. Based on essay, piece called ‘Use Me Up’ we are always switched on and waiting to work. Cover of 20th issues, painting, self reflective issue about its history, painting serving as its own palette. Frame of grey spells grey. www.servinglibrary.org Journal too comfortable, not active enough, context and contains become expected. make something more visual, Dot, Dot, Dot -> Serving Library engine room of the whole project. Same physical format and writing. Published PDF’s, free downloads. Still published physically. No order, equal to each other online. Bulletins of the serving library – house journal. Jacques Derrida, 12inch record cover. Not artwork (album cover). Wall in Portugal. All original objects. Diverse objects. Active living collection, always collecting and expanding. TATE Liverpool. On the Spiritual in Art – Wassily Kandinsky.

Sophie Mackfall – 02/11/2016

Painter in London Studied in Glasgow and lived there for a while. Cultural Influence Define ourselves through occupation, productivity. Utopian movements Transcendence and abstraction SO, oil on board, 23 x 32 cm, 2011 Houpes and Quines, 20 x 30 cm, 2011 On the third attempt, collaged monoprint on newsprint, 300 x 200 cm, 2011 bigger works become about the gestures, the whole bodily movement. collage merged with paintings all linked together, communicated worked in a building shared with network rail. oddly corporate but also shambolic thanks to the university environment. concept of working for leisure, working to survive. sneaked in at the weekend to make these collages in her office. the risk of being caught, the danger, felt silly but she took it very seriously. Eat Aknar Jam 2013 the process of collaging itself. materiality. began to work with wicker. gouache on wicker and tape, 2014 a clear contour. Sophie isn’t interested in making work about anything – more about the space, the material, the way she’s thinking, not literal at all with her work.

Evan Ifekoya – 23/11/2016

http://evanifekoya.com/news/ Trauma/Transcendence/Recovery Lyric

Language big part Lyric as a medium – song/poetry 2010-2015 playful but polictical charged work. childhood – MTV, music big part of life. Work tone is differeny – similar elements. Video – Ojulowo GOA Kids TV presenter – challenge who gets these roles. Mainstream society and trauma of daily life. Song – working with format for a long time. Receive certain information through song, re learn – unlearn. Claudia Rankie ‘on lyric’ Lyric is unspoken private language. Trauma is were the self feels the self again. Lyric allows you to enter the trauma. She was the full body speaker – video 2016 Film part of larger project Radioplay over summer – focusing on the sound. What does it mean to write images than to see them. Set in past and future. Post living mourning. Glasgow – Cass Ezeji September 2016 Quote from ‘poetry, polyvocal philosophy a thought experiment’ – Jean Washington. Family and Guilt – Ebi Flo 2016

Evan Ifekoya’s current work investigates the possibility of an erotic and poetic occupation using film, performative writing and sound, focused on co-authored, intimate forms of knowledge production and the radical potential of spectacle. Ifekoya's ongoing project A Score, A Groove, A Phantom explores archives of blackness, sociality and inheritance as they diffract through queer nightlife and trauma in the present moment. The aim of which is to cultivate spaces of intimacy and belonging amongst minoritarian subjects. Ifekoya’s recent work has been presented at: Wysing Arts Centre, Cambridgeshire; Transmission Gallery, Glasgow; Serpentine Galleries, London; and Stevenson Gallery, Cape Town (2016). Recent performances include Jerwood Space, London and Whitstable Biennial 2016. Collaborative projects include Collective Creativity: Critical reflections into QTIPOC creative practice and Network11. Upcoming solo exhibitions will be take place at Embassy Gallery, Edinburgh and Rowing Projects, London in 2017. After listening to the Evan Ifekoya talk, I realised that although I might not be interested 100% in how her work is depicted as myself I would not use video or make songs, however I was very much interested and influenced by the language Ifekoya used in her songs and how personal they are. They address real life social issues such as gender and what makes someone them. I can personally relate this to my work as my work too questions social issues however ones in which are that of social media. A lot of the issues that Ifekoya uses in her work are that of which occur on social media, from a judgemental and ‘cyber bullying’ from, also known as ‘trolling’. I do like the way that Ifekoya produces work and doesn’t care what people think as this is the way in which she chooses to express herself and that is what is important.

The White Pube – 30/11/2016

http://www.thewhitepube.co.uk/ Check out their instagram too! Very social media based.. Ties in with my work very well, addresses social issues. http://www.artinliverpool.com/review-white-pube/

Jamie Crew – 07/12/2016

http://www.jamiecrewe.co.uk/

Jamie Crewe is an artist, singer and a beautiful bronze figure with a polished cocotte’s head. They use objects, moving image, print, installation and publication to make diverse works which inform each other. ‘Curdling’ is often an appropriate description of Jamie’s artistic intentions: adding a catalyst or agitation to a thing which causes it to split and transform. Forms or structures from existing cultural products are echoed, but with content that contradicts, complicates or undermines them. Pushing against their references, these works become ambivalent explorations of history, identity, community and desire. Jamie was born in Manchester, studied in Sheffield, and now lives and works in Glasgow. In February 2016 they opened their first solo show, But what was most awful was a girl who was singing, at Transmission, Glasgow, and in January 2017 they will open their second solo show, Female Executioner, at Gasworks, London. Recent group exhibitions include Enough Romance, Let's Fuck, Gabriele Senn Galerie, Vienna, (2016); Like a Floral Knife, Embassy Gallery, Edinburgh (2016); and A Camel is a Horse, Transmission, Glasgow (2016). In 2015 Jamie graduated from the Master of Fine Art course at Glasgow School of Art, for which they received a special commendation from Glasgow Sculpture Studios.

Artist/singer describes himself in odd ways, without saying anything clear or useful subtle, difficult history, identity, community, desire. work in the circle of ambivalence around these themes. from Sheffield, graduated 2009 a poster by Jamie Crew 2012 4 years trying to have a practise in Sheffield. didn’t know any other queer artists, wasn’t interested in their work. realised had to just make work for themselves worked alongside full time office job

Hardeep Pandhal – 14/12/2016

http://www.daviddalegallery.co.uk/programme/hardeep-pandhal/ https://frieze.com/article/hardeep-pandhal http://www.hardeeppandhal.com/

Born in Birmingham, Hardeep Pandhal now lives and works in Glasgow, having graduated with an MFA from the Glasgow School of Art in 2013 with the support of a Leverhulme Scholarship award. Hardeep develops non-linear, semi- autobiographical narratives though drawing, painting and sculpture. Hardeep Pandhal’s art confronts trauma with laughter. Making work that is both satirical and transgressive, Pandhal questions perceptions of British Asian identity via his personal reflections on modern British history and popular culture. He does this by drawing on the conflicting experiences of others and his own biography to create fictionalised characters and narratives, realised in drawing and collage, spoof documentaries, and handmade garments (made with the help of his mum). He was selected for Bloomberg New Contemporaries (2013), the Glasgow International Open Bursary (2013), the Catlin Art Guide (2014) and the Drawing Room Bursary Award (2015).

Lucy Clout – 25/01/2017

https://www.limoncellogallery.co.uk/artist/lucy-clout/ https://vimeo.com/lucyclout https://frieze.com/article/focus-interview-lucy-clout https://lux.org.uk/artist/lucy-clout Lucy Clout was born in Leeds in 1980 and lives and works in London. Performance and the experience of viewing performance constitute the basis of her practice. This is reflected in the production of objects, sound work, text and video. She holds a BA from Goldsmiths, an MA from RCA and is represented by Limoncello gallery in London. Alice Theobald – 01/02/2017 Alice Theobald draws upon a mixture of pop and underground cultural references as she develops multifaceted performances using music, installation, and video. Theobald’s performance and video works reference the hybrid nature of their construction through playing with the metaphorical potential of language, sound, and movement while directly addressing accepted concepts of spectacle and emotion. Theobald frequently works in collaboration with a cast of non-professional actors and performers and employs repetition as a strategy to interrogate the unstable relationship between art, communication and representation.

http://alicetheobald.blogspot.co.uk https://frieze.com/article/focus-alice-theobald https://vimeo.com/user10819813

Alice Theobald lives and works in London and graduated from the Royal Academy Schools in 2014, where she won the Gold Medal. In December 2015 Theobald had her first solo exhibition in a public museum at the BALTIC – Centre for Contemporary Art, Gateshead, UK. Theobald recently completed the first cycle of the ‘Bear Pit’ Residency at Focal Point Gallery, commissioned by Grand Union. In February of 2014 she presented I’ve said yes now, that’s it. for the Chisenhale Gallery’s Interim programme. In late 2014 Theobald completed The Future Autumn Residency at Wysing Arts Centre, Cambridgeshire; in 2013 she completed the Gasworks, London International Performance Residency. Recent performances, exhibitions, and film screenings include: The Next Step, Two Queens, Leicester (2016); Alice Theobald and Atomik Architecture, BALTIC Ryder Commission, BALTIC – Centre for Contemporary Art, Gateshead (2016); Lucy Stein & France-Lise McGurn present NEO-PAGAN BITCH-WITCH!, Evelyn Yard, London (2016); The Boys The Girls The Political, curated by Lynton Talbot and Hana Noorali, Lisson Gallery, London (2015); The Fifth Artist, Wysing Arts Centre, Cambridge (2015); Open Source, Gillett Square, London (2015); Dear Luxembourg (yours, bucktoothed grl), Nosbaum Reding Projects, Luxembourg (2015); Too Much, Two Queens, Leicester (2014); Marmalade Me, South London Gallery, London (2014); I’ve said yes now, that’s it., Outpost, Norwich (2014); I’ve said yes now, that’s it., Chisenhale Gallery, London (2014); AFTER/HOURS/DROP/BOX, Modern Art Oxford, Oxford (2013), Spike Island, Bristol (2014); Young London, V22, London (2013); They Keep Putting Words In My Mouth! An Operetta of Sorts, Pilar Corrias, London (2013); Situation|Event, Gasworks, London (2013); Stage Night, The Horse Hospital, London (2013); 6th Tropical Lab, ICA, Singapore (2012).

Dancehall – 01/03/2017

psykickdancehallrecordings.com Psykick Dancehall is a collaboration between Hannah Ellul and Ben Knight that emerged from an involvement in underground experimental music in the UK. Initially based around a label and events, it has subsequently expanded to incorporate other activities exploring sound and aural experience, including publications, performances and exhibitions - often in collaboration with different artists along the way.

At the moment, we are particularly interested in acts of listening and how they inflect the ways we negotiate our surroundings. Most recently, we have been thinking about how forms of communication and cohabitation develop and change, and what that might suggest about the politics of listening. Sound is a bodily disturbance: listening is not an activity that allows us to put a clear distance between ourselves and things. Instead, it shapes our encounters with the places and bodies that surround us in unexpected ways. Listening might mean courting the risk of disorientation: of overhearings, mishearings and misunderstandings. Sound is a matter of physical contact, and so it involves the renegotiation of our relationship to spaces, bodies and objects. We are also interested in the relationships between sound and writing and between the page and performance. Since 2010 we have produced a publication, DANCEHALL, which has explored affinities between artists from different fields working in very different ways with sound, the voice and performance. Recent projects include an exhibition at Castlefield Gallery, Manchester (2015), where we staged an edition of DANCEHALL across objects and events within the gallery. Considering publication as a mode of production, the project explored the relationship between the page, the gallery space and live event. The ongoing relationship of writing and performance in our work was previously developed in The Speaking Machine (2013-14), a long-term project begun for the Colour Out of Space festival of experimental sound in Brighton. Taking the novel Berg by writer Ann Quin as a starting point, the work adopted a version of the novel's revenge narrative and its themes of doubles and imposters to produce a hallucinatory chorus of voices in performances and video. Other activities have included a performance at besser stranger noch festival, Arthur Boskamp-Stiftung, Hamburg (2015); contributing to the Superwoofer event, Matts Gallery, London (2015) and the exhibition Writing Sound 2, Lydgalleriet, Bergen (2014); and unsmoothmaking, an exhibition and performances at Transmission Gallery, Glasgow (2013); and Lothringer_13 Laden, Munich (2012/13).

Daniel Rourke – 08/03/2017

The 3D additivist manifesto &a cookbook Morehshin Allahyari and Daniel Rourke

More of a writer than an artist Research methodology Stories

Additivism.org/LJMU

3D printing Status and identity Political questions Trumps shutdown of 6 countries, closing boarders Disconnected from both homelands, couldn't go back

Dark Matter 2014/15 Surrealism Banned objects blended together Juxtapositions Questioning boundaries and crossing them Breach boundaries, formal political boundaries

Cody Wilson, The Liberator 2013 Gun fires one bullet and then breaks Prohibited to own the Digital file Gun legislation

Boris Groys    

Megumi Igarashi - good for nothing girl 'I want my vagina to travel around the world' Work was considered 'pop art' by court

Golan Levin with F.A.T. Lab + Sy-Lab 2012 Free universal construction kit Connect different toy systems together e.g. Lego with Connect

Additive process Use many different materials Toys to limbs using the same technology Produce drugs and chemicals

Donna Haraway, A Manifesto for Cyborgs: Science, Technology and Socialist Feminism in the 1980s 1983/85

Caroline Achaintre – 22/03/2017 Caroline Achaintre (born Toulouse, 1969) spent her formative years in Germany studying Fine Art at Kunsthochschule in Halle/Saale (1996-98), with her postgraduate Studies in Fine Art and Combined Media at Chelsea College of Art & Design, London (1998-2000) and a MA in Fine Art at Goldsmiths College, London (2001-03). She trained as a blacksmith before coming to London, where she now lives and works. Recent solo exhibitions include those at BALTIC Centre for Contemporary Art, Gateshead, UK (2016); TATE Britain, London (2015-15); Castello di Rivoli, Turin, IT (2015-16) and currently at FRAC Champagne-Ardenne, Riems, FR until April 2017. Her works were also part of the recent British Art Show (2015-16).

Dawn Mellor – 08/04/2017 

http://www.studiovoltaire.org/exhibitions/archive/dawn-mellor/ http://www.hungertv.com/feature/the-interview-dawn-mellor/ http://visualarts.britishcouncil.org/collection/artists/mellor-dawn-1970

In her images Dawn Mellor (born 1970 in Manchester, lives and works in London) deconstructs the interactive structure of the cult of celebrity �� which appears in our culture to have been elected as a substitute for religion – by means of black humour fabricating a relationship between star and his/her believer, the fan. In so doing the artist herself frequently takes the role of an obsessed follower. Through a frequently self-chosen “painterly” role Mellor destroys the moral codes communicated through mass entertainment vouching for a deliberated immorality. Whereby in the face of the obsessive image worlds the question is also continually asked about the actual standardised taste of the observer and its verification. Mellor’s painting style is simultaneously fed by surrealism, the colourfulness of Pop Art and the intentional bad taste of a Joe Coleman. In her first institutional presentation in Switzerland the painter is to exhibit amongst other works, the 120 part portrait cycle Vile Affections (2007–2008) as well as numerous new large-scale works, drawings and a wall painting. The delusional fan or stalker as they are also called, that can no longer leave the object of his/her desire alone, is a figure that has already taken a firm place in Mellor’s works. The starting point for her paintings is formed throughout by celebrities and stars, idols and icons of the most various fields and eras. They frequently undergo a grotesque deconstruction, the narrative of which she contextualises anew and furnishes with a new symbolism and iconography. The artist herself takes on various stalker roles and makes distinct to which of various functions the star can be assigned: as family member, lover, enemy or object of delinquent sexuality. The painting and drawing that emerges from this fictive role giving is a performative painting concept which also produces an intellectual distance between subject and object.