#maybe a cemetery too. if there's one available

[pre-dawn-silhouettes]

one thing about me is i LOVE to dilly dally

[maple-seed]

Thrown - Chapter 48: Myth and Mortal

Summary: Loki attempts to come to terms with your nature.

Word Count: 1,667

Author's Notes: We're all in this together, okay? I'm not immune to the feelings.

Thrown Masterlist Loki Masterlist

You hadn't invited Loki. You hadn't mentioned it, even. Loki wouldn't have known at all if it weren't for Thor.

"I apologize for not attending lunch yesterday. I had to be here to receive an important shipment." Thor gestured at the hall, which was bustling with the finishing stages of construction. He put on a sly smirk. "I would be available tomorrow, if you felt I needed to make it up to you." You laughed. "Maybe dinner instead? Tomorrow is Gerdy's birthday. I usually bring her flowers." Thor nodded. "Dinner it is. Please give Gerdy my regards."

That had been all that was said on the matter, but it didn't sit well with Loki, the idea of you going alone. And so the following day the waning morning found him at your doorstep. Knocking on the door was no longer something that occurred to him, and he simply stepped inside. You were in the kitchen, placing ingredients into a slow cooker. No doubt the dinner Thor had negotiated.

You offered him a bright smile as he approached. "Hey, what are you doing here?" He placed a kiss on your cheek. "I would like to join you this afternoon, if that's alright." "Yes." Your smile warmed. "I would like that, thank you."

He helped you with the rest of the preparations for dinner, the two of you had a quick bite for lunch, and then set off together down the road towards town.

The walk was typical, with light conversation and laughter. You stopped at a flower shop in town and selected a small bouquet that primarily featured forget-me-nots. The walk grew quieter as the cemetery grew near, and Loki took your hand as he followed you through the silent plots. The quiet grew heavy. It was a lovely day, the sun was bright and the grass was full and green. The area would be quite pleasant if it weren't for its purpose. Eventually you came to a stop and the both of you looked down at the headstone. Loki glanced over to you, you were wearing an expression of resigned sadness. He squeezed your hand gently, and you met his eyes with a slight smile. You sighed, then bent to place the flowers in the vase attached to the grave marker.

"Happy birthday, Gerdy." You stood and straightened. "I brought Loki with me today."

You then proceeded to speak to her about things in your life, the goings-on of old friends, pottery techniques you were working on. You spoke about Loki, and it was clear this wasn't the first time he had been brought up, which warmed his heart in a way he couldn't quite explain. You spoke to her as if he had known her. In that moment, more than ever, he wished he had. He wanted to know this woman who had been such a powerful impact in your life. Who had sheltered you in a time when you needed it most. In a time before he could. He wondered which parts of you had come from her. He would have liked to see you side-by-side, to recognize the influence himself.

Your one-sided conversation drew to an end. You stood for another moment or two in silent contemplation, then wished Gerdy a farewell. Loki offered her a hushed thanks before turning to follow you again.

The walk back was far more quiet. You hung off his arm as you walked, with your eyes distant. A thought that had been prowling the edges of his mind, held at bay by his duty to you, took this opportunity to strike. He had been fighting it off, but it grew like ice in his stomach now; some day he would be making this walk alone. Some day all too soon, at that.

Mortal. It was a word he had taken for granted, even knowing what it meant. Mortal. Mort. You were named for your death. Suddenly he reviled the word. He may never use it again. It suddenly became clear that he had been harboring a certain amount of denial. Your life was limited, he knew that as a fact, but still some part of him didn't believe it would come to bear. As if somehow, somewhere along the way, he would find some way to save you from your fate and keep you forever. This walk had cast a harsh light on the reality of the situation. He tried to push it out of his mind once more.

Apparently, in the silence, you had been following a similar train of thought.

"I'm going to get old, you know." "Yes, that is the natural order of things." He said matter-of-factly. You rolled your eyes. "What I mean is I'm going to get old and you won't. Every year I'll get more wrinkles and a little flabbier and you'll stay just as young and handsome as ever." "I'll grow even more handsome, I suspect." You chuckled. "I'm sure. What will people think, watching us walk down the street?" "I imagine they will finally question why I am with you, rather than the other way around." He glanced down at you. "It will be a refreshing change of pace." "Please. People don't question that." "Oh, I'm quite certain they do. You simply don't hear the whispers. Perhaps you are already going deaf?" You huffed an exasperated sigh. "You are impossible." He smirked, victorious.

You left it at that, for a few minutes at least, but clearly this was weighing on you. "Really, you don't think it will bother you? Years down the road?" He gave you a reassuring smile as he walked. "I will cherish every line on your face, as they will be tokens of the time I had with you." You bit back a smile. "And the flabby bits?" He clasped your hand in both of his. "A greater surface area on which to bestow my affection." You laughed. "I'm not sure I believe you." "No need. It will all be proven true in time."

The two of you passed out of town and onto the road to your home. Several more minutes passed without a word. Loki could feel something brewing in your thoughts. Your grip on his arm tensed ever so slightly. Still, you didn't say anything, and he was beginning to think it would pass. The two of you were almost to your cottage, walking alongside the low stone wall that enclosed your field, when it came to a head.

"You're going to outlive me." He deftly smothered the panic inside him. "Yes, but I believe finding a replacement shouldn't be terribly difficult. There are literally billions of humans, after all, so my-" "Loki." You came to a halt, he had no choice but to do the same. Your face was drawn into a solemn expression. "When I'm gone-" "Darling-" "Please. It's important." He clenched his jaw and looked down at your hands in his. In this moment they seemed much more fragile. You took a breath. "Promise me that when I'm gone you won't bury yourself too. None of those ideas like your century-of-isolation plan. Don't wall yourself in." He managed a half-smile as he brought a finger to trace your jaw. "Worried that all your good work will be undone?" "You did the work." You mumbled. His smile grew as his hand cupped the back of your neck. "Our joint efforts, then." "Don't do that to yourself." You whispered, clutching his shirt. "Please promise me."

His feet shuffled and he had difficulty meeting your gaze. When he finally looked down at you again he could feel tears threatening the back of his eyes. "I won't be ready." It came out weaker than he anticipated. He looked away and took a breath to steady himself. "It doesn't matter how long-" His voice cracked unexpectedly and he swallowed the rest of that thought. "I won't be ready." You shook your head slightly as you reached up to cradle his face, wearing a sad, sympathetic smile. "We never are."

He pulled you in close, and you let him. Your arms wrapped around his waist while he buried his face in the crook of your neck. You were solid and present beneath his touch, but he knew this was all too ephemeral. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to leave this moment. He wished for some power that would allow him to stretch it out across a thousand years.

He stood with you like that for quite some time. You held him patiently, made no effort to step away. Eventually, Goat had taken notice of the two of you and began making his way across the field, bleating obnoxiously. That finally broke the spell and Loki sighed, taking a step back, but clung to your hand.

"I imagine you have things to do." He murmured as he lifted your hand to place a kiss against the back of it. You nodded. "A couple things to sort out before Thor and Valkyrie show up." "Let's go, then."

Rather than walk to the gate, Loki crossed over the stone wall, then helped you do the same. He laced his fingers with yours and started toward the cottage. He let the silence rest for a moment.

"I suppose our story needed some element of tragedy." He mused quietly. "If we're to earn our constellation, that is." "Oh?" You smiled. "You think they'll put us in the sky?" "Oh, certainly." He squeezed your hand. "The stuff of legends, you and I." You laughed. "And to think I was going to settle for just a star." "The best star, mind you."

You opened the door to your kitchen. Preparations were made. Friends arrived. Dinner was shared. It was as so many nights had been before, and as many nights certainly would be again.

But perhaps on this night, when you were alone once more and sleeping in his arms, Loki held you a just little tighter.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Thrown Tag List If you would like to be added or removed from the tag list please leave a comment or send me a message/ask.

@mischief2sarawr, @imalovernotahater, @norestfortheshelbywicked, @purplekitten30, @ozymdias, @pdraxxi, @goblingirlsarah, @chantsdemarins, @n3rdybirdee, @marvel-love24, @lokiprompts, @ladymischief11, @gigglingtiggerv2, @lilmilkbun, @huntress-artemiss, @ellooo0ooo, @femme1fatale, @clairewinchester14, @glitterylokislut, @psychospore, @ladyloki3, @skinij3fx, @iamlokisgloriouspurpose, @lunarnights95, @callxmexnadine, @lilibet261, @valeave, @f2mhg2lt2rta, @fruit-caught-on-camera, @ladymischief11, @paetonnn, @confusedpanda-777, @honeyrydernot, @sarcastic-siren, @wolfsmom1, @lokisgoodgirl, @cakesandtom, @unlucky-number-13, @rinnwylde, @javagirl328, @josiedoesdoodles, @rose7420, @ultrasnakesona, @vickie5446, @superficialdomina, @ireallyneedtherapy, @weirdowoody, @hotmesshobbit, @buttercupcookies-blog, @km-ffluv, @mrsbarnes32557038, @tallseaweed, @leothecat97, @soulpiercing, @axen-gers, @im-a-slut-for-fluff, @jainaeatsstars, @whattwhoo, @xxfaithlynxx, @thisisew, @rvautomatic, @herdetectivetheorist, @rhiannon-russo, @loki-godofstories, @thedistractedagglomeration, @halepack2011, @kalibrate, @fireflymoonwitch, @runesgarde, @nelachu2423, @caelinoria, @anthc, @lovelytora

[thereraigoes]

“how to make millions before grandma dies” through my own lenses.

these days, the internet is filled with people recommending this film to be added in everyone’s watch-list. 1) asian family themed 2) people said it’s tear jerking 3) it’s available at the nearest cinema from home— those three points intrigued me to give the film a toss to try. a moment after i went from the cinema, i know well that people who keep recommend this film is not lying at all.

reviewing a film is never my forte but this film makes me want to write something after watching it. i guess it’s the bond of similarity that this film has to me, especially i’m an asian as well.

i would like to give the five stars to,

the color grading.

i am always a big fan of films that have pretty color grading. htmmbgd has a really pretty, i would even say it’s the prettiest color grading from all the movies that i’ve watched lately. if you look closely toward color grading of each film, sometimes several places have its own colour— so does this film, somehow you can know exactly where the film is located just by looking at its color. i don’t really know how to describe it but when i saw that warm, sunny that sun can sting your skin but someplace is kind of shady.. somehow it really screams asia, and it feels so homey.

also a plus point that it is neither over saturated nor under saturated. it’s unpleasant to watch the artist’s skin look so orange where they are not meant to be a tangerine or look so grey where they are not meant to be someone who hasn’t eaten for a week.

it just.. chef kisses. a lot of scenes that show scenery around the setting and it doesn’t lessen the plot, it makes the audience know about the place without too much movement from the camera.

the sound choice.

it adds drama and spices to the films so much and without them, maybe people can survive this film without crying. it plays an important role as well to the plot since we know that m is known as a scaredy cat and amah’s lullaby is the one who relaxed him down and vice versa (i’m not mentioning that scene okay!)

“you can’t leave this cinema without crying buddies.. it’s okay you can cry, okay cry now” that would depict how the sound’s role in htmmbgd.

the plot.

i won’t say a lot about this but kudos to the filmmaker because it’s really good! the plot doesn’t always go like the audience prediction but somehow it’s relieving.. that’s just the same as how the real world does right?

the highlighted-scene and little details that i care for,

a heads up. i might mention some scenes and maybe some of them are spoilers to everyone who hasn’t watched it. so feel free to stop reading if you feel the spoilers are too heavy for you. i’ll try to lessen it!

amah’s paperbag

while watching the film, i realize that amah never wears a proper ‘bag’. we only see that she always wears paperbag that m always carries for. in my interpretation, it symbolizes the humbleness of amah. we know that amah only sells congee for living— three children and herself. those moneys that she get from is always prioritized for her children needs, not her needs— especially for secondary and the tersier one. if it’s enough to carry, then let it be. but we know, there lies a thing that meant a lot for her family inside it.

m and amah talks when m asked why amah always wanted to have a great land of cemetery for her soon.

i can’t help but cry in silence when this scene appears because it’s just so.. ironic. amah always wants to have her children coming together with her, even when she is passed away so she thinks if her children don’t want come when she is alive— a good cemetery would probably help her desire to have a nice gathering without an argument.

pomegranate and amah’s implicit love.

just like common asian themed poem, there will always be mom cutting fruit to symbolize mother love. but i never read (this could be i am the one who never find it, send me one if you ever read it!) a grandma who is cutting the fruit.

even for her own son, amah forbade him to eat the pomegranate because it was meant for m only. she has kept that pomegranate tree for years, water it everyday, cut the rotten branch, wrap the pomegranate with plastic so the caterpillar won’t eat it– she cares it just like she cares m.

even though amah is grumpy toward m (she knows since day one that m is hiding something from her), she still loves and cares for him.

“sons got the assets and daughter got the cancer”

i want to hug ma so bad. she is the most hardworking one between amah’s children yet she assumes that she never receives amah’s love. it just.. i want to hug her so bad.

and finally, the deeds.

i don’t really know about other families but mostly i reckon that this issue is really controversial. family can separate to each other because of this issue only, they highlight the importance of inherited parent’s wealth. i know it is their right to have it but neglecting the fact that their parents need their children’s time and only wanting their wealth is so sickening.

we know that m cares amah only for her deeds at the first but slowly he knows that it is not always about the deeds, it’s about cherishing the memory with her while it lasts.

it’s bearable that m is mad to know that soei is the one who got the house– i mean who doesn’t mad though if the one who got the house is the one who never helps to care about amah, never have a job and a burden to amah, even steal amah’s money. it happens commonly in asian family, my family as well. sometime i don’t really know what on their mind.

but through this, i realize that how old we are, our parents still look at us as a child. that’s why amah apprehends soei, she’s worried that if she doesn’t give soei her house then he could never solve all his problems.

but that mindset is a fatal flaw as well, by then we can see that soei only rely to his mother. he could never stand on his own. i’m relieved that m scolds for him even though soei is much older than him.

conclusion and rating from me, rai,

it’s worth to watch, at least once in a lifetime. you can always rewatch it though but beware running out of your eyecream because it really makes your eyes swollen right after you leave the cinema.

cherish everyone in your life while it lasts. don’t be so bitter to people, sometimes they need help but they are afraid to reach you out.

lastly, it’s a solid nine out of ten.

[lunatic-pudge]

Vampire P1 Dude Headcanons

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So I had some request for what kind of mythological being the Mercs would be so my brain immediately thought of vampire Postal Dude. He isn't even apart of the TF2 timeline but oh well. I find Dude would be a vampire, though I am willing to hear people out on something like zombie Dude or werewolf Dude.

Using P1 Dude cause he fits the vampire thing really well. Any objections will be met with me ugly crying and asking why.

And if anyone wants, maybe I could write a little something something based off this when I have the time. Or if anyone wants to write their own fic, I'd love to read it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-So Dude as a vampire. Poor thing is STRUGGLING.

-He's a borderline agoraphobe (like me), so going out to feed is super hard for him. He's glad that he only can venture out at night. Daytime is scary

-So pale it's unbelievable. He doesn't even look real at times, it can be scary. He's so paranoid about any sunlight entering his home. He thinks even sunlight will infect him with the hate disease

-Super quiet. You'd think you'd be able to hear him walking around but it's like he's floating with how quiet he exists. He tends to scare you quite often with how silent he is. He doesn't mean to scare you and will make up for it with hugs and kisses

-Your blood is his favorite. But he understands that you kinda need it to live so he only takes your blood sparingly.

-He makes sure that when he takes blood from you, he's careful with it. He'll get you comfy, make sure drinks and snack are readily available for afterwards, constantly asking if you're okay with him feeding on you and to let him know if you don't want this. He can be a bit of a worried mess. Just reassure him that it's okay to feast

-His fangs are long and rather sharp, he eventually cuts himself on them at times by accident. So while it hurts to get bit, it's not too bad. It really is like going to the blood bank and donating some blood. It is a draining experience so by the time he's finished, you'll be rather exhausted. He'll gladly lay with you and make sure you're okay afterwards. He might fear that he took a little too much but he's just being paranoid. Dude knows to not take too much from you

-Loves walking around the local cemetery at night. He knows there won't be people around to bother you two

-Being with Dude means changing your sleep schedule. I'm sorry if you're a morning person. You will have to learn how to be a night owl with Dude. Once the sun comes up, he's locking himself away in his room and refusing to come out

-Loves watching you sleep. He finds it interesting watching you resting and how gentle your chest rises and falls. How he can tell when you're having good dreams or bad ones. He especially likes to play with your hair and give you little kisses on the cheeks while you sleep. Making a promise to kill anyone who wrongs you

-He usually bring his victims home. He'll have them knocked unconscious as to avoid too many problems. He'll drain them of their blood and save any of it for later. He'll skin and butcher them up and give the flesh to Champ. So be sure to avoid the "meat" in his fridge. Don't question why there's so much of it either. He makes sure his baby is taken care of

[wistfulweaverwoman]

WIP Wednesday

The sister went first. She’d been a bright lovely delicate thing that bloomed too soon, then swiftly withered. While the girl faded in her grief, the mother wasted away completely, passing nearly a year after her youngest, just as after the first hard freeze.

The funeral is a miserable affair. The few trees scattered in the district cemetery are barren, branches like skeletal fingers stretching towards dreary gray clouds. What leaves remain on the ground rest rotted and half buried in the coal dust mottled frost that crusts tufts of weeds and patches of soil.

Mourners from all parts of the district gather. Hundreds, maybe more, stand rigidly, hands buried in armpits or pockets, breath coming out in translucent white puffs.

Many older merchants stand clumped together, off to one side of the crowd of mostly Seam folk. Amongst them the mayor's fragile wife, a hankerchief pressed to her face, leans heavily on her daughter. The old baker stands away from everyone, his eyes haunted. The boy spies him from his place in the main group of mourners and looks away, not wanting to intrude on his fathers private sorrow.

Eventually all the words were said and most of the congregation had departed, except the girl, the tall man, and the boy, who is unnoticed by the other two, though he’s not hidden.

The tall man speaks urgently to the girl, who will not look up at him. He tenderly nudges the girl's chin up with his fingers.

“Just marry me,” the man says. “You don’t have any other options now, if you refuse the only available employment.”

She turns her head away from his grip, mumbling, and the man shakes his head and stomps away towards the exit.

The boy had simply wanted to express his condolences to the girl once she was alone, but he reads her expression as she stares out towards the wood beyond the boundaries of the district, and the faded purple mountains beyond. Her face is a combination of longing, pain, and utter hopelessness. She seems to nod to herself.

A kind of desperation wells up within him, and a deep fear of what she might do. Her options are limited. With her mother now dead the girl had no home. She could go work in the mines, a sure but slow death sentence, but one that comes with assigned housing and a small wage. She could marry the man. The boy senses that she isn’t keen on either, and has all but decided on a third alternative.

The boy's heart thunders at the idea of the girl slipping away into the woods and disappearing forever. He has to say something, do something.

But what?

[wicked-secretsanta]

Merry Christmas @justthegirlinthemirror!

Read it on Ao3

The funeral for her father was mandatory for everyone in Munchkinland. They lay flowers on his corpse, the casket flung wide. Some of them even cry. 

No one dares mention the lack of the eldest daughter at the wake. They wouldn't have liked her there before, let alone now. Still they peak at the sky often as the service continues.

There is no family but her. Nessarose and Boq sit at the front, and all eyes find her only to shy away. 

She is used to the eyes, the discomfort at her chair. Pity has saturated every corner of her life, no more obvious than in her own father. 

She has not cried for father yet, but surely the tears are coming.

The air is different now, like a charge around her. Was this what Frex had been met with as governor? People seem afraid to meet her eye-- 

She's dressed like her sister, she realizes half way through the service. She's dressed all in black, her turtleneck to her tights. Was Elphaba in mourning this whole time? Or did the dark just contrast her skin? 

Or was the black clothes a sign of power?

There's much that Nessa does not understand about her sister, but she can get behind that, at least.

When it's over, she wheels herself out of the church, back to home. The rest will journey to the crypt with the coffin, to lay Frex to rest beside Melana. The cemetery was not made accessible to Nessa; why let her go somewhere that will lead to her distress? Stay.

Stay in the governor's too big house. With its pretty facade and its dark, empty rooms. Stay in the lingering grief with the mother you never met, the sister who pitys and must resent you and the father who loves the thought of you, the look of you, as he wraps you in cotton wool.

So frustrating, so infantilizing! As she comes to the governs house, she remembers wanting to yell at him, to hurt him, with his rules and strictures. Who was he to say where she should go, how she should feel?  This house, this land, could not contain her! 

But the house now felt too big, all alone as she is. The rest of Oz sprawling, impossible. 

 When you're in charge, when there are so many dangers, how do you keep people safe?

She wheels herself into her father's office, her office now. Her throat clenches; all of these memories and only her here to see them. The big books of Munchkin history she and Elphaba used to read together, the religious volumes Frex would read in the evening, the drawing of Dulcibear she drew when she was three. 

This was simply not how it was supposed to be.

She was always going to succeed her father, someday.

But he was not supposed to leave her like this, hot on Elphaba’s heels. Would Elphaba be surprised to know he cared enough about her to be heartbroken? 

She didn't know how fragile a heart could be. Hers aches in her chest, keeping a time of it's own. Maybe it can sense how wrong and strange her life has become.

She was supposed to go away to school and people were going to see her differently. She was going to learn who she was away from her father's smothering and Elphaba's oddities. She was going to kiss a boy and fall madly in love. She would have a roommate who would be in her life forever. And in time, she would take over for her father, with her sister at her side. They would be happy. 

Why couldn't people do what was best for them? Why was she the only one who could see what was best?

Thank goodness, she has Boq. Her beautiful love, the boy who made her heart so full. He would be happy to stay home with her. Boq would make this dank little room so bright. Boq will love these books, she thinks. After all, much of Munchkin history was not available to the public.

Boq had often mentioned that it was strange that the governorship did not represent the population of the people it ruled over. She loved how thoughtful and smart he was. This problem could so easily be solved if they were married. The next Eminent Thropp could be part Munchkin, for the very first time. How lucky she was, to change the world like this. 

She shouldn't get ahead of herself, of course. Boq was her boyfriend, not her husband and she was far from thinking about motherhood. She didn't even have a mother, she didn't know how to be one.

Well, if she was honest with herself, that wasn't true. Elphaba had been like her mother, and now they both were gone. 

Elphaba who had not even said goodbye to her on the train. Who left her in the dust, when it was supposed to be her turn to shine. 

How could she do that, really. Her sister had always been at her side, always her confidant and companion. Hadn't they read together, played together? In this very room, while father worked, Nessa had told Elphaba all her hopes for the future. Hadn't Elphaba been the one person to know her the best?

Shiz had changed everything. Suddenly Elphaba is magic and the wizard wants to meet her. She has an obvious crush on the Winkie prince that she refuses to acknowledge. And her relationship with Galinda! Or Glinda, rather. 

She would always be thankful to her, of course, and maybe a little bit in awe of her if she was honest. But that name change showed that even she was not immune to getting sucked into these political issues. What good could come from this? Best to stay home, and safe.

She saw how Boq looked at Glinda too. Yes, better they all stay apart. 

Glinda was working with the Wizard she knew, but said she wanted to visit soon, or at least maintain a correspondence, in the letter of condolence for her father.  While she appreciated it-- no one else has written to her-- she is not sure the letter is truly for her. It seems as though Glinda was asking, without asking, without leaving a trail, if Nessa had seen Elphaba. 

What a foolish sentiment. Nessa will probably never see Elphaba again.

Finally, the sob she knew was in there flies free. And there is no one here to hear her. 

Oh that she was her sister! To break the windows, to screech the walls down. The grief, the anger of her abandonment should be felt by more than just her. Instead she can do nothing but cry and cry.

After she is done crying, though, she reconsiders. She wishes that people would notice her, pay attention to her, yes. But she does not want anyone else to feel this grief. 

It is a terrible thing to be left, to be exposed out in the world to things that could hurt you. Frex tried to protect his children, but he failed. Her sister wouldn't be doing this, wouldn't be terrorising Oz if they had not left their home. 

Boq is the only person Nessa has to love left, now. But he has a family, a people. Her people.

She knows what's best, she can make a safe place nobody will ever want to leave. Nessa will make them safe. 

[darlingpwease]

Omega SHI MEI AS A YANDERE imagine alpha reader reject him but is in love with omega Chu wanning

okay now listen here wifey imagine omega yandere Shi Mei caught alpha reader and Chu Wanning making out

I first thought that 'wifey' is about shi mei and the first thought was 'cheating on spouse yandere omega shi mei? the simplest idea, it's always a bad ending and a one-way ticket either to the cemetery or to full mind control/basement in modern au', but then I realized that, apparently,,,, is this for me?,,,,, 👉👈 /hj /affectionate

winners are not judged

♡ unhealthy behaviour, animalistic behaviour, secret relationship if you squint, forced relationship implied, age gap implied, mention of heat drugs [consensual, shi mei], sexism & dehumanisation if you squint (butterfly-boned beauty feast omegas)

♡ dubious consent / non consent elements (?) [at the very end; there is no indication of sex, but there are words about being forced to mark and heat], heavy petting if you squint, sex during mating season ('heat) if you squint

In fact, all of these four — Shi Mei, Mo Ran, Xue Meng, Chu Wanning — do not cope very well with jealousy and possessive outbursts, even if their causes are different.

And SHI MEI, although he has one of the most emotionally flexible and hardy reactions out of the whole four, is no better �� perhaps his past, his intense obsessiveness and almost dependence on you, mixed with his desire to be your omega and seeing you as his ideal, is under very strong pressure when it turns out that you are nothing of this, you do not feel for him, not even considering him as an 'omega with whom you could have puppies'.

He doesn't have to see you kissing; after all, Chu Wanning rarely ever allows himself to be intimate with you outside of closed places where you are definitely alone — but when you come back one day and smell too strong, with slightly swollen and brighter lips due to long kisses, and SHI MEI notices how you hurriedly bring put yourself in order and try not to look like Mo Ran looks like after brothels — for some reason this comparison seems to him the most correct, especially with burning jealousy and disgust at the fact that you preferred not him, — then he understands everything anyway.

And SHI MEI is quite proud and even somewhat overbearing, using his charm as an omega and as a butterfly-boned beauty feast to attract and hold you — but he is not too proud to use his body and unique body structure, especially for alphas who are intoxicated by his smell, but very easily loses control when he sees that his control over you lost and you slip out of his hands like a fish in the water.

Even if he is not a cat, nothing prevents him from immediately grabbing you with his claws.

... He doesn't do that, of course.

He has two goals — and since one of them is already kick the bucket, then why doesn't he kill two birds with one stone? Undoubtedly, the option of 'leaving a flower in you' (which he did not do earlier, otherwise you would have been attached to him — and he cannot help but reproach himself for this, although he previously hoped that your relationship would be mutual and amicable) is no longer available — he longs for you, but he is not an idiot, he knows that Chu Wanning will realize that something is wrong when you abruptly start to get colder and lose interest in him, which is clearly very intense between you judging by the strength of his scent on you, but that doesn't mean that you are the only option.

There is also Mo Ran. A strong, domineering alpha; maybe a little too problematic, but still capable of a lot. SHI MEI does not deny that he manipulates and uses — as if he has a choice — when, with the help of cunning and meanness, he leaves a flower in him, just as he should have done with you, but you are too infatuated with Chu Wanning to notice that something is wrong, clearly experiencing the flowering of your feelings for more the older omega (why?), but SHI MEI just smiles sweetly and nods, making it clear that he is happy for you, slyly flashing his eyes, and you are almost ashamed of how obvious it all probably looks — although you are sure that 'obvious' It's just for him, — but you can't help but bring him small things from time to time, even if Mo Ran looks belligerent.

(Shi Mei carefully keeps these things in his nest and looks at them for hours, thinking that he will do the same when you become his alpha.)

And counting on someone to disturb you is even more pointless.

There's not much you can do when his plan goes very smoothly, even if no one really knows who's pulling the strings.

SHI MEI has no regrets — if you don't want to look at him voluntarily, he will make you not look away from him, no matter what you have to sacrifice.

You chose it yourself.

And when a strong, very sweet and alluring smell that can cover the mind of anyone spreads through a small house, SHI MEI also knows what he is doing, squinting with pleasure, gently sliding along your legs to your hips, looking down at your figure.

Few alpha can resist omega in heat — and no alpha can resist butterfly-boned beauty feast omega in heat.

“Have you already left a mark on Chu Wanning?”

SHI MEI is willing to bet that no — in the end, shizun, even if we depend on you, does not look like the type who will openly submit and allow himself to be vulnerable and defenseless until he completely subdues himself, just to protect himself emotionally.

But SHI MEI is not like that — his heart belonged to you from the very beginning, and if you had played well, you would not have ended up here.

“Do you like my nest?... I've been building it for you for a long time. Mo Ran did a good job of getting you here, but I thought I should also do my part, like a good omega...”

His skin is soft and cool, with beautiful shoulders and a flexible neck, completely uncovered and clean, without even a hint of someone else's mark.

“Or do you prefer sloppy cold omegas? I can be like that.”

Your thighs are hot, much warmer than his skin, and sitting on them is very comfortable and exciting, making him relax and feel even more heated.

“What did you like about him? His cold? His unsociability? Do you like omegas that are tough on the outside but soft on the inside? Do you like touchy-feely? Or the way he was constantly scenting you and was addicted to you?”

Shi Mei is not in heat soon, but he knows that these pills cause forced estrus — they are often used on his omega relatives, but SHI MEI could not even imagine before that he would use them for this.

(he could)

“Just one bite... you'll take responsibility, won't you?”

[locatislunaticolupin]

Day Ten: Keyhole

Written for day ten (of october) of @remadoramicrofics. 642 words. Also available on Ao3.

Their house could get really quiet and solemn. Teddy, as young as he was, was able to listen close enough to know when it wasn’t a quiet day before stomping down the hallway, demanding breakfast and clashing his toys together. On quiet days, he slid on his socks towards the kitchen, where he found one of his parents (usually mama, but sometimes da), pancake batter in hand and finger up to their lips.

On those days, mama opened all of the cottage’s doors and windows so she could keep an eye on Teddy and an ear on da; da put on the gramophone, soft where it was usually fun, and Teddy ran from the house. He’d take Bongui and Tammuz to Little Forest and spend the times between meals there, making hares sprint and birds fly away. Despite the cicadas, the birds, the cows, the dogs, the crickets, the quiet wouldn’t quite let him go, clinging instead to his sweater, his boots and his hair. So Teddy screamed louder, jumped harder, attempted to make the world shake and wake up. On quiet days, the world was too soft and too adult, like the old ladies dressed in all black or the visits to the cemetery. So when he peeked through that keyhole on a quiet day, he knew he’d grown up, a little. That he’d lost something, or maybe gained something, and now couldn’t go back.

It’d been a quiet day, but it had also been a rainy day. Teddy hadn’t been able to escape the stifling, dusty, timeless silence of it all and he was restless. He’d woken up and da had been there, jazz and candles and finger to mouth and water against glass, and Teddy, who had been looking forward to skipping school, had grumpily thrown himself on the couch and let the quiet settle on his shoulders and his frown. Da had let him have breakfast where he was, had kissed his hair and brushed it back with a warm, calloused hand, and then had taken a tray to the exotic territory of the master bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Teddy looked at his chocolate milk. Then he looked at the door. An adventure was an adventure, wasn’t it? Weren’t parents’ bedrooms just as mysterious as caves in between a tree’s roots? He got up, quiet as a mouse, and avoided the places where the wood creaked, even on quiet days but especially on rainy days, sliding on his socks. Bongui and Tammuz hid him while he held his breath and looked through the keyhole, hands away from the door just in case.

It hadn’t been the first time Teddy saw blood (with Bongui around, he’d seen his fair share of dead animals and what his mama called “crime scenes.” And she’d know! She was an Auror and one of the best) but it was the first time he saw blood on his parents and he wasn’t gonna cry, because he wasn’t a baby and his mama was the strongest in the whole world, so she’d be fine, but she didn’t look so tough under da’s quiet hands, even as she smiled and tried to make him laugh.

(She did manage to make him smile. His da smiled a lot, especially when mama and Teddy did silly stuff like grumpily throw themselves on the couch or recoil from the medicine with an affronted that’s disgusting!).

They were quiet like an old lady dressed in black and quiet like a secret and quiet like they usually weren’t. The gramophone played on and the rain drummed outside and Bongui and Tammuz’s nails were loud on the wooden floor. Teddy moved away from the door, careful and quiet.

On the next quiet day, he stayed indoors. Maybe the quiet would get smaller, he thought, if there were more people to carry its weight.

[highoctanegem]

[pm] I have been weighing the available options we've looked at. The houseboat is too fragile. The home on Pewbuck Lane is... nice, but something about it does not sit well with me. The one on Deecompe Ave is preferable, and the lawn was nice and brown. The blue house is your color, but we should paint the exterior of any home to your liking regardless... and that one did not have a cat bedroom. I still approve of the storage unit. What do you think?

[pm] You're like the most adult adult I've ever met. It's so attractive of you. You should defo weigh your options near me. And look super serious while you do it. Glasses and pens are welcome.

SEE, I was totally vibing with the rocking of the houseboat, but I think you knew that. And... [user cackles] baby, you should try sounding out Pewbuck, maybe that will enlighten you as to why you're not vibing with that one. Me? I thought it was cute! It checked like, most of our requirements, right? Didn't you luuuurve the dead bird in the front yard? It was a nice little detail.

The blue house is totally disqualified, I showed it to the kitties and they mrowed endlessly. Even Melody wasn't happy. The spoiled brat. But the one with the brown lawn did make me smile, thinking of how we can garden and stuff <3 Plus! It's like, the closest one to a cemetery we've found yet. That means I'll be home so fast after hunting.

[largesunglasses]

Night one JT was different. I met up with my cousin at her parents house to Uber in. I cried on the way to their house when I passed the now closed Chili's which was the last place I saw my grandmother alive. It was really weird and random and I've driven past it so many times but today I got a little teary and it could have been the song playing in the car that set it off but yeah it was weird. I was going to try and stop at the cemetery where my dad's parents are but I didn't. I felt like I needed to keep driving and I don't know if my dad's brother is buried there too now and for some reason I felt like I couldn't see that if he is.

Anyways concert related. We got there when doors opened and found our seats were at one end of the section that was over so far if we looked straight it was a wall and to look to the left where the stage was I'm not sure what we would have been able to see.

I'm sure we would have been able to see something but even this picture I was standing and sitting it was worse. When we got to the venue there was someone holding a sign that said upgrades were available and we found the women. She explained the upgrades and I asked if we could see them first she brought us to the "box seats" area first and when she showed us the last one that was available I said I'd take it. It was an extra $100 a ticket but my cousin paid for the Uber and dinner and I said screw it I didn't come all this way to look at a wall and maybe be able to see a guitar.

This was the "upgrade" we did have someone sit across us on the other side of the table but they were chill. The concert was amazing and even though we were high up I'm pretty sure Dorian pointed at me while I was dancing. James signed a few autographs after the intermission so I'll be prepared tomorrow with my Ted Williams hat just in case. If he doesn't do it again I'll be ok but worth a shot. I did check out the seats for tomorrow because if they were bad I was going to upgrade before we even got there to guarantee the best seat I could get.

That's tomorrow's view still over to the side a good amount but can actually see.

[toad-games]

WIP Wednesday

This is a bit of a longer one! Just a fragment of a scene of a much longer fic that’s been bouncing around in my head for ages. Also, TW for a description of an anxiety attack. Nothing too graphic, but I’ll put it under the read more just in case.  

Olive visits the cemetery on Memorial Day, and it isn’t as empty as she’d hoped.

The cemetery is quiet again, and there’s a weight in her chest that wasn’t there when she arrived. A tightness she hasn’t felt since she was a kid. To add insult to injury, it’s almost offensively beautiful out today. Finally starting to really feel like spring, maybe even summer. She curls her frigid fingers into a shaky fist. 

The agency SUV Rebecca disappeared into is practically silent In its retreat. Olive wonders dimly if it’s an electric car, or a hybrid, or maybe some kind of top secret tech that isn’t available to mere mortals. She takes a deep breath, or tries to. She feels like her lungs are locking up. Her ribs suddenly static and unmoving, holding her breath hostage. She can taste something like pennies. Something a little like blood.

She should call someone. Her thoughts come to her slowly, like fingers of fog creeping up the beach. She should be worried. She should get in the car and leave. She should call someone. She should call Mason. No, not Mason. She couldn’t stand to look at him right now. More accurately, couldn’t stand to have him look at her. Not with this vacuum expanding in her chest. Maybe she should call Tina, or Verda. Verda lives nearby, and it is Saturday. He would be home.

She realizes she’s crying the same time she realizes the stems of the flowers she’s still clutching have snapped. There’s a shower of yellow and white petals at her feet. A cheap, shitty bouquet she’d picked up at the grocery store on her way over. They’d been picked clean, the checker had said. Always happens around Memorial Day.

Her throat is so tight not even sobs can escape. She curls forward, forehead resting against the roof of her car, glasses digging into her cheek. The metal is warm beneath her and she clings to it.

She knows that this is just an anxiety attack. The same way she knows that her nightmares are just a trauma response. The same way she knows that Murphy is gone, caged in a facility miles away. Which is to say not in any way that makes it less awful.

She wants to go home. Not the warehouse, to the room that looks like hers but isn’t. She wants to curl up in between her grandparents headstones, the same way she would curl up between them in their bed. Wants to feel her grandpa’s sandpaper hand in hers. She wants to call Mason. Wants to fall asleep next to him, and have him still be there when she wakes up.

By the time her lungs are free again, the shadows have almost reached her and the car. She’s not quite sure how long she stood there, hunched and crying into her folded arms resting on the roof of her car. Long enough that it’s cool again, and her neck aches from the awkward angle. She keeps her cheek pressed against the roof but looks up, watching the pine boughs sway above her. Watches an enormous cloud roll over the sun, plunging her and the cemetery into shadow. She reaches for her phone.

He answers on the second ring, “Hey Liv!”

She smiles, Felix’s bright voice washing over her just as the clouds roll back, bathing her once again in sunlight.

“Hi Felix,” she mumbles,

“Hey,” she hears a rustle on his end, as if he’s suddenly sat up, his voice instantly growing softer, “hey are you alright?”

“Allergies,” she says, keeping her face pressed against the car, “just another one of those fun human things you don’t have to deal with.”

“Actually, vampires can have allergies.”

“What?” She’s so thrown she actually lifts her head. She’d been trying to gather the energy to do that for an hour, and this was all it took apparently.

“Yeah, Adam’s allergic to pine. He can’t touch the needles, he gets all itchy.”

“Huh,” she looks up at the pines surrounding the cemetery, lining the neat walkways, “that sucks that he lives in Wayhaven, then.”

“Oh he’ll live,” says Felix cheerfully, “I like it here, I don’t want to move again. Where are you?”

“Um, Morley Park, just um, taking a walk.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be, if your allergies are that bad,”

She laughs. it sounds a bit wheezy, a little strained, but it helps open up her chest a bit more, uncurl the knot at the base of her throat, “Yeah, maybe, what are you doing?”

“Nothing much,” he says, “just got back from a patrol.”

Olive looks back up at the sky, turning a soft purple as the sun starts to sink, then down at the quiet graves around her. At her bundle of wildflowers on her grandparent’s grave, and then down at the petals at her feet. Her pathetic attempt would have been lost among all the gifts that litter Rook’s grave anyway. 

She opens her car door, “Have you ever been bowling?”

[sukratyaropia24]

Withered Love(Part 3/3 FINALE)

The final part, once more, this is something I cooked up for a performance output for school.

Summary: Two guys fall for each other, one is too early whilst the other is too late as both come to a misunderstanding that leads to the death of one under the petals and flowers, thinking that the other doesn't feel the same way.

Chiluc Modern!Au

Warning/s: Might be occ but Idc, hanahaki disease, mentioning of star tear disease, heartbreak, miscommunication, death, 'So close yet so far'.

Recap:

He liked his annoying, cheerful personality, completely contrasting with his own. Maybe one day, he will confess. But not right now, not when the man wasn't here, and yet, Diluc didn't dare to go find his dorm room and ask why hasn't gone.

The next day rolled by and Ajax felt even worse, despite only being overnight, usually it will take a few days for the pain to worsen but today it got worse.

He couldn't think straight, he looked pale, lips stained with blood, and breathing raggedly. One of the teachers noticed his condition and asked if he would want to go to the infirmary, yet, he shook his head, he couldn't let anyone know what disease this was nor what caused it. Despite the concern, the teacher sighed and continued. Meanwhile, outside the classroom, the Student President was there, looking over at Ajax. Why was he doing this? It had only been a day since they last saw each other, he didn't know the answer. But as soon as the bell rang, he tried to approach Ajax, but before he could, another student in Diluc's class approached him, and started to get close to him whilst flirting. As Diluc tried to pry the girl off, he didn't even realize Ajax was already looking at him. What's worse is how Ajax took it the wrong way.

Of course, Diluc already had someone, a girl, why would he even like a boy like him? His lungs flared up again as he covered his mouth before running to the nearest comfort room and into one of the stalls, before puking a load of fully bloomed petals alongside a concerning amount of blood. 'Shoot… It got even worse…' Ajax thought to himself. Now the sounds of crystallines breaking had started again, and great, he started crying too. "Why does everything had to go wrong this year…." He muttered as he continued to cry as Diluc on the other hand had finally pried the girl off and now was trying to find Ajax, but no avail, and soon he gave up, but Diluc wonders why the man had became so pale as he hoped it's not what he thinks it is after that incident with the girl.

Days had gone by and Ajax was nowhere to be seen, now Diluc was really concerned, he had already asked many of Ajax's friends to no avail. He had no choice but to go and find his dorm room to check. But the worst came for him as he heard a few students talking about how a sophomore student was heard to be unconscious with blood coming out his mouth. A sophomore student, he already knew who it was and yet, he didn't believe it as he suddenly ran as fast as his legs took him, it can't be him, right? "Please, let it not be you, Ajax… Please" he muttered as he reached the dormitory for the sophomore, and he felt his heart drop at the seen. An ambulance was already there with a few students and teachers surrounding the building. He was about to go through the people until a group of ambulance helpers came out with a person in the trolley, his heart dropped as he saw who it was. That it was indeed Ajax who was the one unconscious on the trolley. What matters worse is how now that he was found, the idea of the hanahaki and star tear disease came up as Diluc realized Ajax had both. All his question was, who caused all of this? But deep down, he knew he started this mess.

.

..

...

----------------------------

'Huh…? Where am I…?' Ajax thought as he looked around, 'A cemetery? I… Oh,' he muttered as he looked down, seeing his name engraved on a tombstone.

'Here lies Ajax Tartaglia, Died by the Hanahaki Disease.' The tombstone wrote. Ajax chuckled, "I guess I died, huh…" he said, a sad smile on his face that slowly turned into a frown. Everything in his body felt free, at peace, but despite this, his mind isn't, everything about this. "And I didn't even get to tell him…" he muttered once more, a golden tear fell down his cheek. He continued to look down at his tombstone, slowly, he wondered, why was he still here? Is there something else? It was that until it was as if his question was answered immediately as he heard a car door opening and closing. Ajax turned around and his eyes widened, it was him, the person he loved underneath all the bloody flowers.

Diluc got out of his car with a bouquet of his and Ajax's favorite flowers, and there was him, eyes darkened and red as if he just finished crying. 'There's no way…' Ajax thought as Diluc slowly approached Ajax's tomb, 'This can't be right, right? There's no way he liked me too…' he thought, tears forming in his eyes as he watched as Diluc knelt down on one knee and gently placed the bouquet of flowers right beside Ajax's tombstone, before kneeling down on both knees. "Hey… How are you? I… I hope you're doing good up there…" Diluc spoke, he couldn't even finish a full sentence without tearing up as he wiped a few tears with the sleeve of his jacket, which was once Ajax's. "I know it's my fault you were in so much pain before dying… And I'm sorry, I didn't know the girl and I never was… It's because…" Diluc paused as he swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

"It's because it's you whom I liked- No, loved all this time… And I never had the gut to tell it to you… And I should've told you already to ease the pain, and I regretted every single one of it…" he confessed as Ajax watched with both of his hands covering both his mouth, tears falling down his face. He knew they would never be able to love each other all because of a single misunderstanding.

Two guys falling for each other, one was too early whilst the other was too late as both came to a misunderstanding that led to the death of one under the petals and flowers, thinking that the other doesn't feel the same way, only to watch the other sat in front of his grave as the other spoke as if he was the other's light.

------------

A/n: That is it for 'Withered Love', now some parts are edited upon posting because of grammar reasons, but assure you, it's pretty minor. Anyway, thank you for reading my fiction. :DD

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Have you ever had the desire to write your initials in wet cement?

Ever gone mountain biking?

What do you want to be when you grow up?

What's the right tip?

Have you called a plumber to your home lately?

How superstitious are you?

How much money would it take to make you spend a night at a cemetery?

Do you display this as a trophy?

Do you have a pet?

Do you have a sweet tooth?

Do you believe in the power of a curse?

Have you had your hearing tested lately?

Planning a trip soon?

Can you remember the tallest man you've ever seen?

Do you love to go a-wandering beneath the clear blue sky?

Have you noticed what big star's real estate agent's have become?

Are you careful with your personal records?

Does your computer ever seem to have a mind of it's own?

Have you ever visited a china town section at a major city?

Have you ever visited a flea market?

Have you ever visited a truck stop?

Did you ever had a job as a waiter?

Have you noticed how many successful restaurants are theme based these days?

Does your computer ever seem to have a mind of it's own?

This isn't one of the questions in that section, and I still don't really know what it means, but yes, my computer at various times has:

1) frozen the browser (and crashed the computer) after opening more than a dozen windows of the same browser on different websites

2) crashed the browser (and deleted itself from the list of apps) because it ran out of available memory

3) crashed the browser (and deleted the book I'm reading) because I forgot to tell it to quit the previous window and reopen a new one and keep going to the last window I had open, leaving it with not a single open browser window

4) crash the computer from a sudden loss of memory

5) crash the computer with a message from Google Chrome saying there was an unknown problem and the computer needed to shut down

6) freeze itself from being asked too many questions by a website

7) and finally, of course, immediately after that, after I had a lot of spare memory I didn't know I had, crashed and had to start over from the start when I closed the browser, which deleted itself from the apps list and took some other things with it, and then the browser crashed again, and started deleting things again, and then I had to start over again from the start after that, and then it took a while to figure out that the computer was no longer crashing, and I forgot what happened after that

8) crash the computer by trying to run an.exe from a folder I had downloaded, because I wanted to know what it meant

9) crash the computer by running too many windows in the same browser and I closed one too many windows of the same browser to close the program that had been running that browser and then all of a sudden I had a blank screen with the program that had been running that browser and the only way to get it back to normal was to restart the computer

10) freeze itself for a moment from being asked more questions on a website

Are you careful with your personal records?

I used to keep a daily calendar, but that has gotten old and I have fallen out of the habit, although I recently started using a Toddler to take notes on the calendar-like interface. I have kept a weekly calendar in one case for a while and in another case I tried to write down a list of events and tasks at the beginning of the month and then sorta lost track of it, but that was back when I wasn't a total failure at keeping track of things.

Has a doctor ever told you you might have a neurological problem?

The only doctors who've told me this kind of thing were doctors I knew from my time in college, one of whom told me about a time when I had a headache for several hours and told him he should send me to the hospital right away, and that I might have a tumor, and the other one was more like "you have bad eye vision but that might be due to something else (if I remember what) and anyway you might want to get some new glasses or something, and also maybe you should see a specialist about this stuff."

Do you love to go a-wandering beneath the clear blue sky?

Very much. I have a strong desire to go walking along the ocean whenever I can, even though the Pacific Northwest is not exactly underwater. I guess this is mostly about the desire to hear the sound of the sea, I can't really describe it any other way.

Have you ever visited a china town section at a major city?

Yes. I went to the Chongqing (not to be confused with the Chongqing of the Three Kingdoms/Ten Provinces Wars in the early-to-mid 1700s), and the Dinghai (the name of a nearby town) parts in Tibet.

Do you think your house has a spirit?

Yes, and also sometimes it's the spirit of history, and sometimes it's the spirit of nature, and sometimes the spirit of politics, and sometimes it's the spirit of the people who live in it, and sometimes the spirit of me, and so forth.

Some houses have spirit houses, so there is that to think about. But I do think of my house as having the spirit, in some sense (in the same way that I think I know what the spirit is of the person I live with).

Ever wondered what the ocean's deep blue heart feels?

Sometimes, yes. I've wondered whether there are certain things I have forgotten in my lifetime and will have to rediscover in another lifetime, and whether some of them I might rediscover as I die, and what they would feel like if I could experience them now.

Planning a trip soon?

Next year I want to drive up the coast to Nass Head in Connecticut. This is just a one-step plan that I intend to execute in the next year.

When was the last time you told someone you loved them?

Maybe a year ago. (I told a girlfriend in the fall about last summer that I had decided not to move in with her after all, so I'm counting this as "told a lot of people I loved them." I told my sister that I liked a song she wrote, which seemed sufficient.)

This may count as the same question asked in a slightly different way, depending on which person it is that you're trying to tell.

If someone tells me I should have been their friend as a kid

[mademoiselle-red]

Top 5 beverages!

Turkish coffee, but as a pour over

A controversial opinion, I know, but hear me out: I find traditionally brewed Turkish coffee a little too strong and bitter for my tastes, but I absolutely love buying ground Turkish coffee (without cardamon, another controversial opinion, forgive me) from the Asian grocery store and making it into a pour over at home. The result is a much milder version that still retains the spicy flavors of the coffee, but with none of the bitterness, and it goes down very smoothly with a dash of milk. Plus, no coffee grounds at the bottom of the cup to deal with once you are done, since it’s all been filtered out!

Italian Hot Chocolate

Let me set the scene for you: it was an afternoon in late December, between Christmas and New Years. My traveling companion, an archaeologist, had enthusiastically dragged me away from the shopping district that I was quite happy to find myself in and set us out on a long trek to some obscure church so she could show me a mural that I “simply have to see”. We arrive at the old church and learn that the final entry of the day was 20 minutes ago. Deflated, cold, and hungry, we walked through the streets of Milan, heading back to the neighborhood our hotel was in to look for dinner. It was getting dark, and it started to rain. We turned a street corner and saw a dazzling sight: a beautiful cafe with a white storefront, lights glowing from its large windows illuminating the marble tables within. As we pushed in the heavy doors, we were greeted by the smell of hot chocolate, and the menu above the white marble counter confirmed our senses: this was a chocolate bar, offering a dozen different flavors of Italian hot chocolate. I ordered one with dark chocolate, hazelnut, and whipped cream. A few minutes later, it arrived on my table. It was heaven in a cup. A very small glass cup (only a third of the normal serving size typical here in America) in which one could see thick black-brown liquid chocolate, topped with rich whipped cream (a little over-whipped, on the buttery side, which is exactly how I like it), and crushed hazelnut drizzle. It was glorious. I bit into the whipped cream, sucked in the hot chocolate in one big slurp, felt the thick lava-like liquid roll down my throat, and relished in the warmth that spread as it passed through my chest. It was much more bitter than American hot chocolates, and richer in flavor, with a nutty almost caramel-like aftertaste. This was the first time in my life where I wished I could stick my tongue into a cup and lick the inside clean.

Hot Apple Cider with whipped cream and cinnamon

This one is a winter classic in Germany. I first had it in Berlin on a bright sunny day in a cafe attached to a beautiful cemetery that I’d scrolled through that morning. It was the first time I had whipped cream with apple cider, and it made the entire thing feel extremely indulgent and i think it helped bring out the natural sweet-sour taste of the apples, add in the cinnamon and you have liquid apple pie in a cup 🤤

Riesling

IT IS THE BEST WHITE WINE (although Retsina is a close second). And the brands that are usually available at my local store in the states suck 😭😭😭. A good Riesling should be slightly sour, slightly sweet (the bad ones are usually too sweet), and dry. Riesling is the perfect summer drink, good for picnics in the sun, or dinner out on the balcony, with seafood, arugula / rucola, and white asparagus (with ham and hollandaise sauce, of course)

Japanese-Style Whisky Highball

Ice, whisky, and soda water (and maybe a dash of lemon to change it up). It tastes fantastic. Perfect for every season. Easy to make at home, great to order in restaurants and bars. It’s especially great with yakiniku or any kind of barbecue / grilled meat dish. I also tried a Shochu version of this in a canned bottle from 7-11 in Japan.

[spaciousreasoning]

Spending Time with Family

It was raining and 67 degrees here in Smithfield when I got up this morning. After a not too uncomfortable night in a strange bed.

My blood sugar was 142. I checked it at about 7:30 PST, 10:30 here in Virginia. A little earlier than normal at home, but I wasn’t going to be able to put off having coffee or eating something.

So I made a cup of coffee from a pod in Deborah’s machine. Then Deborah finished making and served a breakfast casserole of sausage, egg and cheese.

I spent some time chatting with Tim and Sue, while Tim was working on his laptop and I was typing on mine. (I notice the font I’m using mostly at home is not available on my laptop, so I’ve switched to something else: Avenir Next.)

After breakfast I went to shower. Deborah had the perfect shower solution for me: 3-in-1, hair, face and body wash from Body Works. I need to get that at home so I can wash my hair and then smear it over the rest of my body.

Sarah evidently won’t be moving in with Deborah because Deborah doesn’t keep her house warm enough. But there are other things going on with Sarah right now, while she deals with the loss of her husband.

Speaking of death, Boe’s sister who was maybe 11 months older, died just this morning. The oldest sister and youngest brother in the family are still around, but they may or may not be at the service tomorrow. The brother has issues of his own, some of them due to the loss of his own spouse a few years back.

After picking up Sarah we stopped at CVS. Then we had to plan “what to eat next,” according to Deborah.

Meanwhile, I used my iPhone to copy a bunch of photos from an old Johnson family album. I transferred them to the laptop and worked on transforming a few of them. I posted one of Mom to Facebook.

The five of us went to the Fiddlin’ Pig, a new British-style pub in Smithfield. The others all tried something from the taps. I mentioned I did not drink and the bartender immediately offered me a Guinness 0, which I accepted without delay.

Then we came back to Deborah’s place and enjoyed some leftover BBQ, beans and mac ’n’ cheese, along with a few other choices. Then they turned on “Survivor” and I am burying my head in something else on the laptop to keep my attention off that program.

Of course, in the meantime, I missed out on some conversation about Boe’s family and who and who not may be showing up at the service tomorrow at 2 p.m. Then on Friday, after we take Tim and Sue to the airport, Deborah and I (and possibly Sarah) will be going back to the veterans cemetery to lay Christmas wreaths on the family plots.

There has been no walking today. The rain has been regular, if not constant, and occasionally accompanied by severe windy conditions. Tomorrow is supposed to be clear, but colder than the last couple of days. It will make the service easier, but there probably won't be any more time for walking. Maybe I can make up for it on Friday.

[eisthenameofme]

Re: Cemeteries. (Not US) I know they're sometimes used this way, since I've been to some concerts and other events held in them. That being said, here most are managed by the municipality (even if people can own individual plots) and not intended as a third space (at present), so if they receive too many complaints from passerbys they'll probably crack down over "mobs disturbing people" regardless of whether that was ever actually a thing - Further complicated by "but what if you loiter over a plot you actually bought or otherwise have some tangible claim to (having a relative buried there for plausible deniability reasons)".

So no simple answer, and worth checking what's the law around all that in your state and who's actually in charge of cemeteries, since they should be contactable (to report a broken gravestone or littering if nothing else).

(Ask bc this is too long and convoluted for comments/Anon bc anxiety.)

Huh, I hadn't ever heard of anything like a concert being held in them before. I'd only ever heard of like. Ghost tour groups and seances and shit getting permission to host events, or maybe in more famous/larger places holding regular tours. But I just checked and it looks like they happen in some places here, too. When I said I had heard of them being used in that way in the past, I was remembering having heard about them being used essentially like regular parks are to walk and have picnics and that kind of thing in like the 1800s.

It seems like the specifics of management vary pretty widely here, and I've seen some with full websites and clear contact information and some with barely any information plainly available at all (and stumbled on one with a fuckton of bad ratings because it was overgrown and people could apparently neither locate their relatives' plots nor contact anyone about it).

I certainly wouldn't say they're like. 'intended' as a third space here, and I could imagine that a larger group, especially meeting regularly (and in some cemeteries moreso than others), might attract negative attention and be asked to leave, but I don't think I've heard of specific rules against people just walking around and enjoying the area during hours when it's explicitly open. But yeah I agree with there not really seeming to be a straight answer; it probably varies a lot by location and individual cemetery and maybe to an extent also the locals (there's one near me in a small town that got really infamous for Paranormal reasons and it is now also notorious for the locals being deeply hostile to anyone not from there visiting for any reason)

I frequently avoid attaching my name to asks too just because I've seen one too many instances of people/their followers being unexpectedly hostile for reasons I would not have predicted