#one of them is where lemony meets with his favorite people to have good food

[non-plutonian-druid]

[ID: a three color drawing (black, white, and teal) in the style of Seth’s illustrations from the Lemony Snicket series All The Wrong Questions. Five and Viktor (both about 13) are seated at the counter of a diner, talking. Luther (in his 20s), who is a patron seated next to them, looks concerned about what he is overhearing. Grace stands behind the counted holding a coffee pot and gazing into space. A missing poster for Ben is taped to the counter. In the mirror behind the counter, a reflection Diego and Patch (both 15) are visible in a booth. End ID]

i really should leave time between art posts for them to breathe and accumulate their fair share of notes, but also i need something to do while im waiting for my onions to caramelize.

In this installment: Five and Viktor meet over breakfast to discuss business, Luther is a Concerned Citizen, Diego and Patch also meet over breakfast to discuss business but in the background, and Grace is NOT a robot and this diner is NOT fully automated no sir. Also as usual Ben's face provides some ambiance, thank you Ben.

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

~*~

Hello Mojo, hope you're doing well and that you had a good break! I wanted to signal boost the MDZS May Diaspora event collection on AO3, and point out my favorite fic from there: 归心似箭 | Longing to Go Home by dragongirlG! It's both tender and bittersweet and it features such mature writing. The author got some hate for it when it initially got posted so I wanted to counter that and give it some love instead! [Who would do such a thing?!  @dragongirlg-fics I’m sorry that happened to you, and here, have *so many hugs!* I’ll try to do a thing just for the diaspora event, but meanwhile, I’ll just treat this as a follower rec.]

归心似箭 | Longing to Go Home

by dragongirlG (M, 8k, wangxian)

Summary:  The destruction of the Yin Tiger Seal does not kill Wei Wuxian; it ages him instead. He takes shelter in a cave expecting to die, but instead he lives, slowly learning to embrace life with each new day.

Thirteen years later, a young man with a Lan forehead ribbon stumbles into the cave. His name is Lan Sizhui.

~*~

Hi Momjo!!! I recently read the most *adorable* fic, and I loved it so much that it dragged me out of seclusion (read: social anxiety cave) to rec it. It's called 'Covered in Bees' by ScarlettStorm in which the Cloud Recesses is an apiary, and Wei Wuxian has suddenly found himself host to a swarm of bees. ~ @akyra-talanoa

Covered in Bees

by ScarlettStorm (T, 8k, wangxian)

Summary: “Cloud Reccesses Apiary,” says a toneless, deep masculine voice, with zero question in it. Wei Ying doesn’t care, because whoever possesses that voice is probably going to come save him from bees like a fucking hero while wearing like, a suit of armor. That’s what you wear to catch bees, right?

“I have like, so many bees outside my front door right now,” he says, mouth running out ahead of him before he can even begin to think about reining it in. “It’s like a sandstorm of bees out there. There are so many bees. I got out of my car and there were just bees and I don’t want these bees. Do you want these bees? Please tell me you will come get these bees. I can’t leave my house and I have enough food for maybe a week but then I’m gonna have to learn how to cook dry beans and no one wants that, especially not me.” Wei Ying runs out of air, takes a breath, and belatedly adds, “My name is Wei Ying. Hi.”

Or: The beekeeping AU that no one asked for.

~*~

Hi, you are a bless to this fandom. Your blog feels like a library, so thoroughly arranged and always within hand reach. [Thank you, wow!]  Recently, I was going through Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn is a Wēn tag and came across a fanfic, it has 3 chapters till now and is so intriguing that i thought to recommend it to you. I don't know if I can recommend or if you have already checked the story, The legendary Phoenix and his Dragon by Devipriya. I am in love with this story. I hope you will enjoy it too, do check it out

The legendary Phoenix and his Dragon

by Devipriya (T, 7k, wangxian)

Summary:�� Wen Wuxian, the essence of who he is, he is a naughty child, a prankster, an enchanting dizi player, a graceful dancer, an irresistible lover, a truly valiant warrior, a ruthless vanquisher of his foes, a man who left a broken heart in every home, an astute statesman and kingmaker, a thorough gentleman, a righteous individual of the highest order, and the most colorful incarnation.

He has been seen, perceived, understood and experienced in many different ways by different people. Different people saw different facets of who he is. For some, he is God. For some, he is a crook. For some, he is a lover. For some, he is a fighter. He is so many things.

But the phoenix, seen from the eyes of time was just a playful man. A man who plays with his awareness, with his imagination, with his memory, with his life, with his death. An individual who does not just dance with somebody. He dances with life. He dances with his enemy, He dances with the one he loves, He dances even at the moment of his death.

To taste an essence of who is Wen Wuxian, be with me in the journey of exploration, NO! playful exploration of life of a playful man.

~*~

Hi! Thanks for running this blog, it's helped me find so many fics. For your next follower recs post, I wanted to rec "This love like a flood, a fire, a fear" by natcat5. Its summary is vague (which I suspect is why it isn't better known) but it is a beautiful retelling of canon from LWJ's POV with slight canon divergence. I love the author's characterization of him and the prose is gorgeous. It is easily my favorite fic in the entire fandom, and I don't say that lightly. ~ @nyanja14

This love like a flood, a fire, a fear

by natcat5 (M, 57k, wangxian, lan wangji & lan xichen)

Summary:  “I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch everything go wrong.”   - Lemony Snicket

~*~

i came to this ask to rec this baseball one called "Waiting for Spring" by thievinghippo on ao3. It somehow made me care about baseball soooo 'nough said ~ @scifikimmi

Waiting for Spring

by thievinghippo (E, 131, wangxian)

Summary:  “It is a well-known fact across the major leagues that one does not smack Lan Wangji’s ass.”

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. Everyone smacks everyone’s ass in baseball. It’s how the game is played. Lan Wangji does not get to be exempt from this most sacred of baseball traditions.

Wei Wuxian will make sure of that.

Or, a Major League Baseball AU

~*~

hi mojo! i wanted to rec Something Good by boxoftheskyking (a loose sound of music/canon divergence au) and also MDZS: The Golden Engine by iffervescent (immortal wangxian modern au where they gotta solve a mystery and save china, featuring jiang cheng/lan xichen)

Something Good

by boxoftheskyking (T, 43k, wangxian)

Summary:  "That Wei Wuxian, you know he used to be such a promising cultivator. Head Disciple of the Jiang Clan, can you believe it? You see, juniors, the punishment for traveling the path of demonic cultivation. No golden core, not so much as a whisper of spiritual power."

As a punishment for real and imagined crimes, Wei Wuxian is sentenced to work at Cloud Recesses as the lowest of servants. When a surprising reassignment lands him with eleven children to care for, everything changes again.

A Sound of Music AU

MDZS: The Golden Engine

by iffervescent (E, 82k, wangxian, xicheng)

Summary:  In the modern era, immortals Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian return to Gusu. New evil and old friends + new friends and old evils.

~*~

Hi Mojo! First of all let me just tell you that you are amazing and this blog is like a gift from the gods! Bless you and your endless patience and hard work. [Oh, thank you so much!]  I know that you have just accepted follower recs and I have missed miserably but I still wanted to write and bring attention to a writer by the pseudo Xiao_Hua on ao3, I think they are quite good and I just recently found the account with so much content. If you do have the time to check them out, I'd rec catfish, my fox or the red ribbon.

The Red Ribbon

by Xiao_Hua (M, 21k, wangxian, TGCF crossover)

Summary:  Wei WuXian died but not before saving HanGuang-Jun and A-Yuan, leaving so much more behind than just his ribbon.

My Fox

by Xiao_Hua (E, 13k, wangxian)

Summary:  Once he headed to YiLing that all changed for him. His priorities have been mingled with and ordered in complete disarray even without him noticing as he was left heavily influenced by a creature.

Or one where Lan WangJi is a dragon-spirit and he finds his mate in the form of a fox.

Catfish

by Xiao_Hua (E, 15k, wangxian)

Summary:  Wei WuXian has a common sense that believes it has a nine-to-five job while Lan WangJi finds that incredibly hot.

Or one where two catfish realise that neither of them truly catfished.

~*~

Hi Mojo i'm recommending this amazing fic it is called song of joys and regrets. it's a time travel AU it's amazing. And your Blog is a Godsend Thank you! [Aw, you’re so sweet!]  ~ @highgoddess

Song of Joy and Regrets

by HelloKitten (not rated, 59k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  The Archery competition at Qishan this year has hit a snag. As the Sects face the wrongs perpetrated by their future selves, Wei Wuxian finds himself adopted by half of the cultivation world who are determined to save him from himself.

Baby Wangxian suffers. Adult Wangxian's job here is done.

"I'm starting to see a pattern to all his plans..." "Do they all involve him being bait?" "Yes" came deadpanned responses.

~*~

Here’s a 2021 Reverse Big Bang entry, in time for Father’s Day; [Oops, my bad, sorry!]  Under a Blanket of Black Wings, by ChaoticAndrogynous (#31398395); LWJ, recuperating from the 33 lashes, tells A-Yuan a series of fairytales about a heroic monster and the brave little boy he befriended. Vampire! WWX (in the framing story as well as the story-within-the-story); happy ending.

Under a Blanket of Black Wings

by ChaoticAndrogynous (T, 19k, wangxian)

Summary:  Lan Wangji tells A-Yuan a bedtime story about a beautiful monster and the brave little boy who was his friend. Thirteen years later, the monster returns.

~*~

Hello Mojo! Have you read ‘Key Differences’ by Pupeez4eva? Its a MDZS!WWX meets CQL!WWX and its really good! [It’s on my list!]

Key Differences

by pupeez4eva (T, 6k, wangxian)

Summary:  “I don’t understand,” Wei Wuxian said, while his alternate self continued to stare at him with almost a look of hurt in his eyes. There was longing in there too, which Wei Wuxian would have easily recognised if he paid enough attention. “How could you not get together, after everything. What even went on in the Guanyin Temple if you didn’t confess?”

“The Guanyin Temple,” Wei Ying repeated incredulously. “You’re asking me if I confessed at — honestly, a lot went on that day. It was a life and death situation. There was no confessing.”

Wei Wuxian stared at him, appalled.

(Wherein Wei Wuxian ends up meeting an alternate version of himself who, much to his horror, never married Lan Wangji. Obviously he has to do something to fix this).

~*~

Hey Mojo i would recommend this fanfic if you already haven’t, it’s called “ take me back to a time “ by DizziDreams. It’s sooooo good

take me back to a time

by DizziDreams (T, 144k, wangxian, 3zun)

Summary:  Wei Ying has a lot on his plate right now.

It’s finals week -- which isn’t so bad. He’s never had to study much to do well in classes. But that just means that things are that much more tense with Jiang Cheng, who, as far as Wei Ying can tell, only takes study breaks long enough to glare at Wei Ying where he sits on the couch playing video games.

It’s not studies that have Wei Ying stressed out. It’s everything else. It’s the recruitment for the research trial he’s coordinating. It’s jiejie and her impending marriage to His Royal Douchebag Jin Zixuan. It’s the volunteer work at the palliative care facility. It’s Wen Ning’s worsening condition. It’s Wen Qing working herself thin to care for her brother and Wen Yuan. It’s the way Wen Yuan never seems to have enough food.

So, yeah. There’s enough on Wei Ying’s plate already, meaning it’s not entirely welcome when he comes home and finds a man standing in his bedroom. A man in extravagant white robes, a ribbon tied around his forehead, long hair gathered into a topknot, fist clutching a sword at his side, who asks him, “Where am I?”

~*~

Idk if this has already been rec’d (I’ve been off the grid for a while now), but there’s this absolutely incredible fic called Restitution by an anon on ao3 people should definitely check out!

this one?

on restitution

by Anonymous (M, 78k, wangxian, jin ling & wei wuxian, lan sizhui & wei wuxian, WIP)

Summary:  When Wei Wuxian regains consciousness, he is in a bed. A real, proper bed, not the slab he called a bed in his cave in the Burial Mounds.

Jiang Cheng is glowering above him.

Wei Wuxian doesn't die during the siege of the Burial Mounds. Rather, he is captured in secret and confined at Lotus Pier. Things change accordingly.

~*~

Hi momjo! I feel like every time I come to your blog there's twenty more new and amazing fics for me to read. Thank you for everything you do for this fandom!  [Thank you, sweetie!  And yes, I think there ARE 20 new fics every day out there in the fandom.  It’s amazing!] Today I come bearing my own rec to you. I've recently read this and it's IMO one of the best fics out there. It's called Lapsteel by carriecmoney and it's a modern stormchaser AU featuring country songs and coming home. ~ @manaika-chan​

Lapsteel

by carriecmoney (T, 42k, wangxian)

Summary:  Now and then, I think about you now and then...

It's been thirteen years since Wei Ying ran for the prairies, leaving behind a family in shambles and a secret on the Pacific wind. What happens when the storm he swirled catches up to him?

Modern AU with country music star Lan Zhan, stormchaser Wei Ying, and shared crossroads.

~*~

[jay-me-says]

Things Were Different Back Then

CHAPTER ONE: The Protagonist Returns

Masterpost w/ more info on the fic | Note: all SBI-related relationships here are platonic!

Tubbo fidgets with the buttons on his suit jacket, the shiny gold a pretty contrast to the forest green fabric. The notion seems utterly laughable to him, but he’s nervous to see Tommy.

It’s been a while since the blond was last in L’manburg. A few weeks after Tubbo became president, Tommy had left. “I just need to clear my head for a while. I’ll be back,” he had said. Nearly a month had passed with no Tommy and no word from him. Until a few days ago, when Tubbo had received a message via carrier parrot. It was from Tommy, saying he was okay and would be home in a few days.

Tubbo had felt happy at first, but now he was nervous out of his mind. The past few days had been spent making preparations for Tommy’s return. Everyone wanted to make his homecoming special, so the whole nation had pitched in to decorate and prep food to welcome Tommy back with a feast. The entire time he was helping prep, Tubbo had felt like a blob. A wobbly, wiggly version of himself that had no solid shape and was made only of nerves and worry.

He was terrified that something might go wrong, or that he hadn’t done enough to welcome his dear friend back home. Even with the entire nation covered in banners and candles and lanterns, Tubbo kept wondering what else he could do. He’d even been tempted to temporarily lift the ban on explosives to allow fireworks, but in the end decided it wouldn’t look good for a president to go around breaking his own laws.

Presently, Tubbo is standing about ten feet from the gates of L’manburg. One of the first things the country had done after the revolution against Schlatt (after tearing down and replacing the hideous obsidian flag of Manburg) was build a wall around their territory to prevent attackers from waltzing in freely. Along with that project had come a large gate. It was made of spruce wood and opened with a pulley on either side, requiring two people to lift it.

Watchtowers dot the wall, where people often take turns scanning the terrain beyond. Mainly, they watch for invaders from the Dream SMP. In the short time Tubbo has been president, there hasn’t been much activity. Just a scout every now and again. They keep watch anyways, on edge after a history full of war. Fundy is sitting in one of the towers closest to the gate, keeping an eye out for Tommy. Eret and Puffy each stand by one of the pulleys, talking. Everyone else mills around, staying close to the gate while talking to one another.

The air in the nation has been filling up with anticipation since Tubbo made the announcement about Tommy’s return. It feels like electricity, energizing the clusters of people, making them more alert. Every slight noise from outside the gate turns heads.

Tubbo, zoned out while worrying his mind and his button, doesn’t notice Niki approach. When she places her hand on the president’s shoulder, he startles, drawing in a sharp breath and snapping his head to look at her. Seeing that it’s just his fellow council member, the tension drops from his shoulders and he slowly exhales. After the Second Revolution, Tubbo had decided to alter the way L’manburg’s executive branch ran. Instead of a single president, he wanted there to be multiple leaders. Soon after the coup, before Tommy left, there was an election that voted himself, Niki, and Tommy in. Fundy has been acting as a stand-in for Tommy since he left.

Niki’s brow is creased slightly in concern. “Are you alright, Tubbo? You look nervous.”

He doesn’t try to hide it. “I am, Niki. I really am. It’s just,” he pauses for a moment and sighs, “it’s been so long since I’ve seen him. What if he’s changed a lot- what if I've changed- and we don’t get along?” Tubbo keeps fidgeting with his button, eyes locked on Niki’s.

Niki uses her hand on Tubbo’s shoulder to gently turn him to face her fully. She puts her free hand on his other shoulder and squeezes. Tubbo catches the sparkle of her promise ring to Puffy in his peripheral vision. “I can understand your worry, Tubbo, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. Even if he has changed, you’re Tommy and Tubbo, L’manburg’s favorite dream duo. You’ll work it out, I’m sure of it.”

The way Niki’s gaze locks onto Tubbo comforts him. She looks so certain. Like she’s telling Tubbo that the sky is blue. It settles him some, but he still grips the button on his jacket. His fingers have stilled, though.

“Thank you, Niki.”

“Anytime, Tubbo.”

Right as Niki finishes speaking, Fundy hollers from his tower. They both glance over as he yells, “Tommy’s back!”

Tubbo looks back to Niki, eyes wide with excitement. The other council member is grinning. She squeezes his shoulders again, then gives him a soft shove towards the gate. “Go! Go meet him!”

Nerves temporarily forgotten, the brunette takes off. The built-up electricity crackles through the air and into his body, making his limbs lighter. In that moment, Tubbo is sure that he has never run faster.

Eret and Puffy have started pulling up the gate and Fundy is scrambling down from the tower, rushing to join the crowd that has gathered a few feet away from the wooden bars. They are packed in tightly, already calling hellos to Tommy. When they notice Tubbo, though, they move and let him barrel through.

When he gets to the front of the crowd, stumbling to a stop, Tubbo’s eyes finally land on Tommy. His hair is ruffled and he’s smiling, eyes lit up as he scans over the crowd of his friends. When his gaze falls on Tubbo, he grins even wider. At the same moment, they take off running.

Now, Tubbo is sure, he’s never run faster. The boys nearly bowl each other over as they crash into a hug. They grip each other tightly. An observer would swear they’d never let go.

Relief and affection pools up inside of Tubbo, filling him to the brim and making him feel warm. Tommy is safe. Tommy is here, in L’manburg, in his arms. No more wondering where he is or if he’s okay.

“I missed you so much,” Tommy breathes, the hint of a laugh tangled in his syllables.

Tubbo sinks deeper into the hug. “I missed you, too. I’m so glad you’re back.” He grips the other boy tighter, if possible.

Their words are muffled, faces buried in each other’s shoulders. Tubbo could stay like this for hours and not mind.

But they do break apart. Tubbo tries not to feel a little sad and grins up at the taller boy, who grins back. He’s not sure he would ever admit this out loud, but Tubbo had missed those bright blue eyes of Tommy’s.

The taller boy grabs Tubbo’s right hand in his own and squeezes. The look he gives him sinks into the brunette’s soul, conveying words he hasn’t said aloud. We'll finish this later.

Tubbo nods and gently lets his friend’s hand go. As he walks away, it feels like something is missing. Like Tubbo has taken his hands off a warm mug and the cold is seeping into his skin. He can practically hear Tommy saying, “Clingy bitch.”

Tommy is greeted like a hero returning from slaying some vexatious beast. The crowd jumps on him, each person gripping him close in turn and welcoming him home.

As Quackity is greeted with a yell of “Big Q!” Tubbo finally notices the dog. Really, he’s unsure how he missed it in the first place. It’s about as large as a small bench and fluffy beyond belief, with fur the same color as the quartz blocks that make up the Prime church. Tubbo’s heart melts a little when he sees the familiar green bandana tied around the dog’s neck.

The dog barks in excitement, running around, picking up the crowd’s energy. Many L’manburgians are already dishing out pets. It’s a challenge, though. The dog only stays still for a few seconds before running more laps around the group.

Tubbo also notices the parrot, then, flapping around nearby Tommy’s head. It’s mostly green with just a little smudge of a lemony yellow on its forehead and wings. It’s the same parrot that delivered Tommy’s message. Tubbo had sent the bird back to Tommy afterwards, bearing a response letter and a little pouch with a few cookies made by Niki.

The light, energetic feeling vanishes from Tubbo’s limbs when he sees Tommy stood in front of Wilbur. The tall brunette looks uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot and picking at the hem of his gray sweater. For a few seconds, they do nothing but stand across from each other, staring. The scene sucks the electricity out of the air, hoarding it all and turning the pair into a greedy storm cloud.

Finally, Tommy reaches out a tentative hand. Wilbur glances between the hand and Tommy’s face, then carefully takes it. They shake and Tommy moves on quickly, finishing his greetings. The stolen electricity slowly leaks back into the atmosphere.

The group had moved outside of the wall earlier, following Tubbo after he booked it out to meet Tommy. Now, they lead the blond into L’manburg, towards the spruce platforms where the podium once stood. A long table has been set up and covered in food and dishware. Tubbo snags a seat next to Tommy and lets himself get swept away in the energy of the group. They loudly tell stories, taking turns updating Tommy on what’s happened since he left and listening as the blond regales them with tales from his time away. Being around everyone like this, eating together and talking about anything and everything, warms Tubbo’s heart. He feels happy. By the time the sun sets, his cheeks are aching from so much smiling.

The L’manburgians stay at the table well into the night, orange light cast from lanterns keeping the mobs at bay. But as the moon traces a path through the sky, the group slowly thins out and people return to their homes for the night. Eventually, there are only a few people left at the table.

After Quackity leaves, clapping his hand on Tommy’s shoulder when he walks by, the blond nudges Tubbo to get his attention. “Do you want to head back up to your house? I’m pretty tired.”

Tubbo agrees and the two say their goodbyes, leaving Eret, Philza, and Fundy as the final three at the table. Tubbo privately wonders where Wilbur has gone, figuring he would’ve stayed with his father and son, but thinks better than to ask. It seems like a charged question, and he’d rather not ruin the mood.

As Tubbo and Tommy make the short walk home, the dog and the parrot trailing along behind them, there isn’t a single quiet moment. They chatter back and forth about everything and nothing. Tubbo once again feels warm. He’s missed this, all of it. Everything that he couldn’t do with Tommy while he was gone.

When they reach his house, Tubbo opens the door and gestures for Tommy to go in first. The dog follows, parrot sitting atop his fluffy head, then Tubbo enters. Tommy, of course, has his own home in L’manburg to stay in. He was around long enough after the revolution against Schlatt to build one. But they had decided via carrier parrot that he would stay with Tubbo for a few days, giving the pair time to catch up and see each other more.

While Tommy gets settled in the guest room, Tubbo sits in a wooden chair near the bed and they keep talking. Tubbo never seems to run out of words with Tommy around.

“So, what’s up with the dog?” Tubbo inquires as the great, fluffy wolf sits in front of him. It places a large paw on his lap, so Tubbo scratches its head.

Tommy flits between his bag and the wardrobe, putting away his armor and spare clothes. “That’s Walter. I had set up camp for a bit in some woods and he came to check it out. I gave him some steaks and when I went to leave, he followed. He’s been with me for about half the time I’ve been away, I think.”

“He’s massive.”

Tommy cracks a smile. “Seriously. A child could use him as a pony.”

Still petting the dog, Tubbo turns his gaze to the parrot sitting on the headrest of the bed. He makes a mental note to bring Tommy some things for it tomorrow. “Did you name the parrot?”

“Yeah, Henry II. What’s up with the parrots anyways?” He pauses in putting away his things and looks at Tubbo, brow creased in confusion.

“It was Ponk’s idea. He figured it would be nice to have a way to send messages, so he’s been training up parrots. He runs a little mail building where most of them are kept. Got built a week or so after you left.”

“Has it actually been helpful?” An edge of doubt creeps into Tommy’s voice, but he seems rather curious.

“I mean, it was helpful to get some warning before you got back, so we could prepare to give you a big welcoming. Besides that, it has been pretty convenient. I’ve been using the system to send people notes. It’s sort of nice to not have to go to peoples’ houses to communicate with them.”

Tommy hums in response as he resumes putting away his things. As he finishes, shutting the wardrobe, he says, “That was really nice, by the way. Thank you, you guys didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course we did. We all wanted to. Although, the decorations were mostly Wilbur. Man barely stopped working on them since we got word you were coming.”

Tubbo realizes too late that he probably shouldn’t have brought up Wilbur, especially after how tense Tommy had been back at the gate with him. Kicking himself, he hurries on, “By the way, Tommy, you’re still invited to take back your council seat. I’m sure Fundy will be thrilled to be relieved of his post. He’s been working really hard, but he doesn’t enjoy it all that much.”

Tommy pushes the tip of his shoe into the floor and glances off to the side. “Er, yeah, about that, do you think he could stay on just a little while longer? I- I don’t know if I’m feeling up for that yet. Everything is so different, and I just need some time to adjust if…if that’s alright.” He looks at Tubbo again on the last sentence. Tubbo is a little surprised but understands. “I’m sure you could ask him about it. I was planning to show you around tomorrow anyway, so we could stop by his and Phil’s and Wilbur’s house and speak with him. We could invite Niki along, as well.”

If asked, Tubbo would say he wants to invite Niki because she’s also on the council, and conversations about the council should involve her. And that is partly true, but he also wants another buffer in case they end up talking to Wilbur.

Tubbo tries to start up the conversation properly again, but it’s not quite the same. Tommy still seems somewhat tense, and sort of withdrawn. The brunette wishes he hadn’t brought up Wilbur like that. The comment had turned the air thick- it almost felt hard to breathe.

When he thinks he might suffocate by staying in the room any longer, Tubbo says goodnight, wanting out before his tongue can dig him a deeper hole. “I’m just down the hall if you need me,” he adds as he gets up from the chair.

Before he can leave, Tommy crosses the room and grabs his friend’s arm, tugging him into a hug. Tubbo squeezes back, again glad that the boy is in L’manburg and within his reach once more. A small smile tugs at his features.

“I really did miss you, Tubbo. Thank you for the party,” Tommy murmurs against Tubbo’s shoulder.

“Of course, Tommy. We were glad to do it.”

The boys break apart and say a final goodnight before Tubbo goes to his room. As he gets ready for bed, he thinks about how Tommy is acting about Wilbur; he sort of shut down after the mention of him. It worries the brunette, but he tries to brush it off. Surely, it’ll be fine in a few days. Tommy just needs to get used to being back and sort things out with his brother.

‘

You can also read this on Ao3! | Next Chapter Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed! <3

[ash-beaumont]

Melancholy (Nathan x MC)

Summary: “But I must admit I miss you quite terribly. The world is too quiet without you nearby. I go to bed early and rise late and feel as if I have hardly slept.” - Lemony Snicket 

Word Count: 1702 

She misses him when she finds small note cards lodged inside the pages of her books. He'd read aloud to her, often pretending to be each character with different voices and accents to match which he assured her is "exactly how they perform this at the West End." She severely doubted this, but she liked it when he would let his guard down a little to act ridiculous in front of her, and she'd inevitably fall asleep with her head on his lap, his hands brushing through her hair. And he'd write quotes that he loved, lines that reminded him of her, followed by 'this is where my beautiful, harmonious voice put you to sleep. please don't read ahead without me!! - N.' She has more than a dozen shoved deep in her nightstand drawer, under pamphlets and pencils and notebooks. She can't bear to look at them.

--

She misses him when she walks past large murals, her thoughts wandering to what he would think of them. It was a small game they liked to play with each other - sending a piece of artwork, a passage, a quote from a song - with a 'what do you think this means?' She couldn't count the number of photos she had of blurry book pages, of him standing in front of paintings in cafes which he often sent with long, nonsensical artistic critiques.

"What do you even mean by the 'pigment composition is inadequate?'"

"I don't know, maybe I'd tell you if you were here with me."

She'd send him little doodles of horribly drawn stick figures when class didn't hold her interest as much as he did, and she'd try stifling her laugh as he'd compliment her 'bold vision' because 'honestly the world hasn't seen an artist the likes of you before, they should hang that in the Louvre. Are you sure you still want to be a journalist?'

Sometimes they'd go to an obscure university lecture for fun, and when it would end, she'd turn to him, "Do you have any idea what just happened?"

He'd look so deep in thought, and she'd wait for him to say something profound, but then he'd shrug anticlimactically, biting his lip to prevent himself from smiling, "I honestly have no clue, but most of the research was conducted in Florence. Will you go with me?"

She'd sigh, linking her arm in his.

"Okay, no to Italy then. Maybe France?" he'd suggest.

"I don't think I want to go anywhere with someone who doesn't understand the nuances of ornamental plant breeding."

It's a while before she starts sitting in those bookstores and coffee shops again, but she sees traces of him in each painting, in each novel, like he has left a small piece of his soul in everything he touched.

--

She misses him when she goes grocery shopping. He'd purposely walk down the aisles with a flourish just to hear her laugh, waving his list in the air, and she'd follow, teasing him about his apparent overzealousness about artisanal ice creams and raspberries. He'd roll his eyes and smile, and the minute they'd get back to the clubhouse, he would arrange small bowls of ice cream for her to taste.

“Is this really necessary?” she'd ask, and he would lean on the counter, making small twisting motions in the air with a spoon, and she would sigh dramatically as she opened her mouth.

“So?”

“Oh my god, this tastes amazing,” she'd close her eyes because who knew twenty dollar ice cream could taste so good, and she'd feel his lips on hers, his fingers brushing against her cheek.

“It does.”

Sometimes they'd pretend to host a cooking show with terrible French accents; he did most of the cooking while she commentated, and he'd chase her around the kitchen, both of them laughing, after she had somberly discussed his unfortunate ravioli making technique in her best documentary voice.

She thinks it’s strange how some memories become so deeply tied to objects, to places - and as she cries over a bowl of ice cream one night - food. 

--

She misses him late at night most of all, remembering the nights when they were both quiet, and she'd rest her head on his chest and he'd hold her closely to him. There wasn't much to say sometimes, but being near him felt like she was releasing a breath she didn't know she was holding.

Nights when nothing existed except the both of them in his room, when she desperately wanted him and he wanted her too, and she could lose herself in the feeling of being cared for.

Nights when he'd play an old waltz because of course he had taken classes, and he'd bow almost theatrically, his lips brushing against the back of her hand, his eyes looking as if they wanted to swallow her whole. She'd laugh at first, at her own awkward uncoordinated steps, at his attempt of a posh, aristocratic accent, but then she would rest her head on his shoulder as they swayed together, his arms around her waist, his breath against her ear as he'd whisper how beautiful she looked. And when his hands would linger, when she'd feel his eyes following her, she understood for the first time why people fell in love so quickly.

Nights when they'd both sit in the corner table on the third floor of the library, papers and books and coffee cups scattered between them, and it was only a matter of time before she'd read something that she had to tell him about, or she'd find him glancing at her instead of revising, or he'd tell her in hushed conversation an elaborate story on why the librarian had circled the floor multiple times, and they knew that from that moment on that they might as well give up on trying to study.

Nights when she'd read aloud her articles and he would act as her captive audience. She'd assume he was only pretending to listen and she couldn't blame him either, considering new floral arrangements in the public square wasn't a particularly riveting subject, but as soon as she'd finish, he would comment on all the parts he found interesting. Sometimes it would make her teary eyed and he'd look on, alarmed.

“Why are you crying? Did I say something? I take back what I said about not wanting anemones-”

She'd tackle him in a hug, his back landing on her bed, and she'd prop herself on her elbows, her nose touching his. His eyes would search her face, his fingers gently brushing through her hair, and she'd mumble, “you actually listened?”

And he would look confused, brows furrowed, “Shouldn't I have?'”

She wanted to say yes, but she was all too use to people pretending she hadn't said anything at all, so she'd bury herself into his sweater, and he'd understand, because somehow he always did, and would wrap his arms around her.

Nights when they'd sit outside in the grass under a blanket, his arm over her shoulder, and he'd tell her about where he came from, the places he had been to, where he wanted to go next (and he would turn to her and whisper, 'of course you'd be there with me') and she realized that she liked him best here, when he wasn't pretending to be anything, and she wondered as she brushed his hair away from his eyes, how many other people had seen him like this.

Nights when she was vulnerable, an accumulation of tears and stress and anxiety, and she'd apologize that he had to see her like that, but he would only squeeze her hand and quietly remind her that he didn't mind, that he didn't want to be anywhere else, with anyone else. Just because she was strong for everyone else, he told her, didn't mean she couldn't be vulnerable herself.

Sometimes his words keep her from sleeping, in fact, she can't remember the last time she's had a full night's sleep, because she's not sure if he said them out of concern, or if it was a way for him to relish in just how much she trusted him.

--

She keeps herself occupied with the newspaper and her internship, with going to football practices, concerts, and art openings. She takes it day by day, hoping that the shame, the guilt, and the insecurities will go away someday. That she'll let someone in again without having to fear an eventual betrayal. But sometimes her thoughts naturally gravitate towards him.

She can't help but see him in everything, everywhere. What would he say, what would he do, where would they go. Whether he'd laugh at her horrible pun, whether he'd agree with her new piece in the newspaper, whether he'd be impressed that she learned how to cook without burning anything.

She wonders what she would ask him if she ever saw him again. Did he care about her at all, even for a little bit, or was everything a lie from the very first moment? She's not sure if she wants the answer to that question, because she doesn't know what would be worse. That he did feel the same way the whole time, that he cared about her just as much as she cared about him, but it was doomed from the very beginning. Or that he lied, and every touch, every smile, every moment was carefully, delicately crafted, and she was naive enough to have believed every single word of it.

She doesn't want to worry her friends by telling them, she's decided that she has already put them through too much, but regardless of how hard she tries, she can't hide how tired she looks.

--

She smiles for the first time in several days when she comes home to find a mug of her favorite tea waiting for her after class with a note in Zack's neat scrawl, 'I hope you enjoy, meet me and Grant at the dog park at 4?' and she decides to go, because she figures it's time to take a step forward when everything in her heart is trying its best to pull her back.

It's far too soon, too painful to remind herself that the person she fell in love with maybe didn't exist at all. So she tries to forget, and maybe she will, and one day she'll wake up and no longer miss him.

[huffleporg]

The Coffeeshop Fire | 1/?

ASOUE | T | No warnings | 1.6k | Ao3 

Down in the Beverage District, a work of investigative journalism into the rivalry between two coffee shops leads to four calls to the City Health Inspector's office from J.S., three detentions, two fires, and one broken sugar bowl.

This fic might owe a lot of its existence to the fact that @badasouefanficideas​ seems really intent on pushing a coffeeshop AU on us. That and my own experiences working at a coffeeshop with a horrible boss who ran things the way I imagine Count Olaf would run a coffee shop. 

Characters: Isadora Quagmire, Olivia Caliban, Duncan Quagmire, Jacques Snicket, Count Olaf, Kit Snicket, Violet Baudelaire, Lemony Snicket, Beatrice Baudelaire, Quigley Quagmire, Dewey Denouement, Jacquelyn Scieszka, Larry Your-Waiter, Klaus Baudelaire, Fiona, Bertrand Baudelaire, Sunny Baudelaire (the ones in bold appear in this chapter). 

Chapter 1 below:

She couldn’t pace back and forth in the alley forever. Between the necessity of nourishment and the foul odor of spoiled milk coming from the dumpster, Olivia Caliban knew that she had to find her courage. “You can do this,” she murmured to herself, adjusting her grip on her resume so as to not crumple it. “You have to do this. If you want to afford food and make rent.” Moving back home to her parents or begging her sister to take her in simply wasn’t an option. “You’re not a failure.” Just a victim of budget cuts, cruel administrations, and a landlord that was demanding far too much for a cramped studio apartment. “This isn’t admitting defeat.” When she had graduated with her masters in library sciences, she had never thought that she would ever find herself standing anxiously in an alley of the beverage district about to apply for a job she was overqualified for, but had no choice but to seek. “It’s just a-”

A door into the alley burst open behind Olivia, making her jump. She spun around to see a rail thin man standing in on the stoop, a pack of cigarettes in his hand. The man’s shiny blue eyes fixed on Olivia as he slid a white cigarette out of the pack, almost daring her to explain just what she was doing in the alley.

Olivia straightened herself up, summoning as much courage as she hoped to bring to The Sugar Bowl. “Smoking will kill you, you know,” she said to the man.

The man’s one eyebrow furrowed with annoyance. “Good,” he said. He took a box of matches from his apron pocket.

Olivia shook her head and walked from the alley, the clicking of her heels drowning out the sound of a match being struck. “Disgusting,” she murmured, unsure whether she felt the adjective applied more to the habit, the man, or the alleyway. She went down a block of brick sidewalk, past a dairy shop with a display of cows in the window, a bar closed until dinner time, and a shop selling empty bottles, and finally reached the crosswalk. A glance in both directions and then she hurried across the street, finally standing in front of the place she hoped would be her next job.

“Help Wanted” the sign in the window read. The last time she had been here, she had only noted the presence of the sign in the window of The Sugar Bowl as she waited for her coffee and pastry on her way to what she hadn’t known was her last day of work. Now the coffee shop wasn’t the only one who needed help.

Taking a deep breath, Olivia checked her reflection in the window, just to make sure that none of her hair had snuck out of her bun. She gave a tug on her flowery blouse, straightening it out. “‘Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear,’” Olivia quoted softly to herself before she strode determinedly over to the class door. As soon as she opened it, Olivia was wrapped in the familiar rich smell of coffee and sweetness of freshly baked treats.

The shop was in a mid morning lull, Olivia noted as she walked up to the counter. Only a table and a couple of the sumptuous armchairs were occupied, though Olivia supposed that there could be a few people lurking amidst the bookshelves she herself had browsed several times before today. At least there would only be a few people who would be witness to this.

“Olivia, right?” asked the man behind the counter, smiling kindly.

Mouth dry, Olivia nodded.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been in,” the man went on.

“Thirteen days.” Thirteen days since Vice Principal Nero had rudely informed her the school no longer needed a librarian. Thirteen days of frantically trying to find some way to make a living wage.

The man reached over for a medium cup. “Well, I’m Larry, your barista. And if I remember right, it’s a soy latte with some caramel. And whichever pastry strikes your fancy.”

“It is,” said Olivia, “but I’m actually not here to purchase anything.” She held out her resume so Larry could read it. “I’m here for a job.”

The barista blinked. “Oh, well, that is a surprise.”

“Was a surprise for me as well, though I suppose it shouldn’t have been. My hours kept on getting cut, and now…”

Larry’s smile returned, only with an empathetic tone. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I hope that we can help you.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’m going to get one of the owners. One of them is always around.” He lifted up a black curtain to the back room and vanished from sight.

She leaned against the counter, feeling her blouse sticking to her back with her nervous sweat. She didn’t have long to wait before Larry was back with another man following close behind. As Larry stepped aside allowing her to see the man’s face, Olivia felt her nervous reach a fever pitch.

“Olivia, this is Jacques Snicket, co-owner of The Sugar Bowl,” said Larry.

Her gaze only flicked back to Larry for a moment before once again focusing on Jacques.

“Jacques, this is Olivia Caliban.”

Jacques Snicket extended a hand, “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Caliban.”

For a moment, she stared at the hand before remembering her manners. “Pleasure’s mine,” she said, trying not to let nerves or any other emotions break her voice.

“If you follow me, we can speak in the office.” He motioned for her to come around the counter.

As Olivia walked around to the other side, she couldn’t shake the feeling of transgression as she crossed into a part of the coffee shop that previously had been off limits - not that it would have ever occurred to her to be tempted to venture into the behind the scenes of her favorite cafe. Following Jacques to the other side of the black curtain, Olivia said, “Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Snicket.”

“Jacques,” offered the man. He glanced over his shoulder and gave her a small smile. “You have quite an impressive resume. Not the usual we get here.” He led her into a hot kitchen with racks and racks of baked goods and ingredients. “Larry was a waiter before he found his way here.”

“I worked at a coffee shop in college, and part of grad school,” said Olivia.

“I did see that.” They stopped before a closed door. Jacques reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. “But, I would have thought that a librarian like yourself would have sought out employment in a library or bookstore.” He unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing a tiny office with a desk, a couple of chairs, and shelves stacked with books.

“I tried that,” said Olivia. “But the library said that it’s not in their budget to hire another librarian this year. I can’t afford to relocate to Lake Lachrymose. And all the bookshops seem to have gone out of business.”

Wordlessly, Jacques motioned for her to sit down in one of the chairs facing the desk, himself leaning up against the desk.

In the crowded office, barely a yard separated the former librarian from the man. From her seated position, she had to crane her neck upwards in order to see his face. “So, when it became clear that those options were, in fact, not options,” Olivia continued, “I found myself in a quandary. I’d rather work in my vocation, but I need a job, otherwise…” She found her gaze falling to the floor.

“I understand.” Jacques voice was soft, comforting.

Olivia swallowed. “I began to ask myself, where could I stand to be for several hours a day, and maybe even enjoy myself a little, and The Sugar Bowl came to mind,” she said timidly. “I’ve always enjoyed coming here. The coffee you serve is the best, and the atmosphere…” She lifted her eyes up to his warm brown eyes, “it’s the closest thing to a library that isn’t in fact a library.”

“There’s a reason for that,” said Jacques with a grin. “See, when Beatrice and I opened The Sugar Bowl, we were thinking about the coffee houses of old Europe, where intellectuals would gather and discuss philosophy, politics, and art. We wanted our customers to be like us: well-read and able to appreciate a cup of well-brewed coffee, who would find a debate about the use of a comma in a particular poem stimulating.” He paused for a moment, fixing her with an evaluative look. “I do think you’ll find yourself quite at home here. Unlike other coffee shops where it’s get-in, get-out, and the same decaf coffee has been sitting on the burner since six… and the tea is weak and you can never find napkins, and…”

Olivia shifted in her seat, frowning.

“And you wonder if the proprietor has bathed this week.”

“I tend to avoid those establishments,” said Olivia, fairly sure from the ad hominem nature of the most recent criticism that things had taken a personal turn.

Jacques nodded approvingly. “A wise choice.” He cleared his throat and walked over to the other side of the desk and sat down. “And I think it would be a wise choice for to offer you a position here, Olivia. The Sugar Bowl could certainly use a librarian.”

Relief washed over Olivia. “Oh thank you. Thank you so much, Jacques.” She wouldn’t have to spend another week living off of her dwindling savings that had not even been past the triple digits before she had lost her job.

“When can you start?” he asked.

“I can start right now.”

[feadae]

Chiara’s great big CotIG survey

Tagged by @teabooksandsweets--thanks for thinking of me!

1. How did you discover the series?  I was in my middle school’s library, looking for something new to read, and I saw Here, There be Dragons, and my twelve-year-old self was like, “Dragons? SIGN ME UP” Nearly seven years later (?!) I’m still like, “Dragons? SIGN ME UP” 2. Have you finished the series by now?  Oh, yes. Many moons ago. I should really reread it. 3. Which is your favourite book, and why? I couldn’t tell you; it’s been so long since I last read them. I remember being partial to the last half of the series, though, since S--- Got Real and a bunch of my favorite authors/poets/what have you were introduced as Caretakers/Mystorians/what have you, so some serious nerdgasming happened. 4. Do you also have a least favourite? Please explain. Not really, but as previously established, I haven’t read the series in years. 5. Which character do you love to read about the most? Yes. Really, though, there are a ton. I do love the shenanigans of the girls; there are so few of them, but they’re all so badass, each in their own ways. 6. And who is your personal favourite? Dang it, why do you do this to me? I can’t choose favorites! 7. Name someone you just can’t stand. I don’t rememberrrrrrrrrr I do remember being particularly averse to Burton, even though I appreciated his Villainous Dry Wit™. 8. Rate the badgers on a scale of 10 to 10, please.

9. Do you view literature, art, science, geography, and history differently because of your reading experience?  Yeah, a little. I get this little thrill of excitement when I recognize a historical figure as a Caretaker/Mystorian/etc., and there’s a slightly shamefully large number of people I only recognize because they were in CotIG. Regardless of whether or not I like the character, I have to remind myself that the real people probably didn’t behave in exactly the way the characters do to make me like/dislike them. 10. Which land of the Archipelago would you have liked to read more about? Yes. 11. Another rating, please: the battle goats from 10 to 10.

12. Do you agree with the following statement: “Believing is Seeing”?  Intensely. Faith’s a big part of my life, and “believing is seeing” struck a big major chord with me. Like, Act I Finale Major Chord™. Also, I like the switching-around/subversion of the more well-known “seeing is believing.”   13. Do you enjoy to explore the illustrations and their details? Yeah! The people are a bit creepy, though, if I’m quite honest. Something to do with Uncanny Valley, maybe?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 14. Complete this sentence twice, one time correctly, and one time for your own pleasure: “Most unicorns are…” “…mice.” “…purple writers of vulgar comedies.” Just leaving this here because it’s so glorious also I don’t remember which one is correct like I’m leaning toward purple writers bc Aristophanes (was that his name) but I’m leaning toward mice bc it’s first I should really reread the series 15. Would you rather travel by carriage or by principle? Yes. 16. Which is your favourite badger word? Gotta say scowler, man. It’s so cute, and the way it makes the Proper Grammar Englishmen slip into the badger dialect for half a sentence before they catch themselves is just adorable. Exercise game: do a push-up every time one of the Boys says some variation of “We be--ah, that is, we are scow--scholars. Scholars.” 17. Which colour do you mostly associate with the series? Dude any time I see indigo (the color or the word) my brain goes indIGO DRAGON 18. Name a beverage you like to drink while reading CotIG. I don’t typically drink anything while I read, because I’m Clumsy As Heck and will probably spill it all over the book, even if I have a lid and straw. If I did, though, it’d have to be something warm and comforting: hot chocolate, coffee, or tea. 19. What’s your name, by the way? Yes hello I’m Cali 20. Name someone you think could be a Caretaker. Me  I think Carrie Hope Fletcher would make a really good Caretaker! She’s a West End actress (known for being Éponine in Les Mis and Wednesday in The Addams Family, along with Truly Scrumptious in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and someone--Beth???--in War of the Worlds), as well as a YouTuber (channel name: Itswaypastmybedtime--she’s super-cute) and author (has written two novels and one advice book, with a third novel on the way). She’s just so creative and caring and sweet, and she’s totally got what it takes to be a Caretaker, imo. Plus, there’s a serious lack of performers on the crew, I think. We may not write as well or as often as authors/playwrights/other more traditionally Caretaker-ish types, but that doesn’t mean we’re not as creative. We just express our creativity in different ways. So yeah, I move for there to be more actor/musician/dancer Caretakers. Totally not biased Totally not an actor/musician myself 21. Name someone you think could be a Mystorian. Was it @sublimegentlemanalpaca‘s idea for Lemony Snicket/Daniel Handler to be a Mystorian, or was that canon? Either way, I really like it. I like the idea of Arthur Miller being a Mystorian, but that might be because I just saw The Crucible for the third time and I’m a bit obsessed. I also really want Erin Morgenstern to be involved somehow--I bet she’d be a good Caretaker... She’s the author of The Night Circus, which is effing glorious. If you haven’t read it, it centers around these two magicians who’ve been raised to compete against each other in this game of magical oneuppance, but neither knows that the other is their opponent and neither really knows the rules of the game, and the romance is relatively standard fare (albeit very cute and very shippable), but the magic. Oh my Lord, the magic. I haven’t had such vivid mental images in such a long time, and if I ever become an animator, The Night Circus will be the reason why, because it’s just so spectacular, and I really want the circus (which isn’t actually called the Night Circus; it’s called Le Cirque des Rêves) to be real. 22. Name someone you think could be a member of the ICS. I honestly don’t remember nearly enough about the ICS. I really need to reread the series. 23. Name one or more places you think could be part of the Archipelago. Was Carroll’s Wonderland ever established as part of the Archipelago? I remember Carroll being in there somewhere, but I don’t remember how or where or to what extent. I need to reread these boooooooks 24. Where would you most like to go? Literally anywhere in this series. Tamerlane would be great to visit, just about anywhere in the Archipelago, Neverland--just take me anywhere, as long as it involves adventuring with some of my favorite creators! Also both in real life and in CotIG I wish I could witness an Inklings meeting at the Bird and Baby. In a perfect world, I’d be allowed to participate, but I’m a young woman who looks like a twelve-year-old; I’d probably be asked where my parents are and why I’m in a tavern at all, assuming I’d even be able to work up the nerve to speak to the Inklings in the first place. Oh well  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 25. Which food would you most like to try? I kinda need to try Tummeler’s renowned blueberry muffins, don’t I?

The moral of the story is that I need to reread this series. I can’t believe I’ve forgotten so much!

[chocolotte]

List #02

1. If someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to?

The most difficult thing would be what to read. I love reading but my taste ranges from YA princesses and mermaids to Greek Mythology to Charles Bukowski’s novels to some real good old-fashioned horror. However I would probably have them read “Bloem en vlinder” [Flower and butterfly] which is a children’s book that I keep reading and rereading over the years because its meaning changes to me a lot and it’s beautifully illustrated, so yeah, they would get my honest thoughts on that since it means a lot to me.

I would probably have them watch The Real O’Neals and (not or!)  F.R.I.E.N.D.S. It might sound crazy but there’s a little part of me in all of those characters somehow. I watch TOO many TV shows but those are the only ones that matter. When it comes to movies, I’d have them watch Love Actually or Jurassic Park which are the only movies I like rewatching.

Then finally, I’d let them listen to Introducing Me by Nick Jonas; My Wish by Rascal Flatts and probably ever single song in my UNDERWEAR PARTY playlist.

2. Have you ever found a writer who thinks just like you? If so, who?

I think my writing comes from two different points. On one side, I have the mind of a teenage girl who’s perky and loves romance and the unique little things in a story, the details that do or don’t matter to the story line. So I would say John Green. And I love a good plot twist every now and then and all these things that make more sense/come together further on in the story, so maybe Lemony Snicket as well.

On the other hand I tend to write rather cynical and dark, with a hint of pure lust. I don’t usually post it, it’s a side of me that I’d rather keep to myself for now. Maybe that’s why I don’t go out and search any books of that genre either, but if this reminds any of you of a writer, feel free to let me know!

3. List your fandoms and one character from each that you identify with.

- One Direction (music/band): I want to say Harry. I don’t know him personally but at first he seemed a bit of a cheeky lad. [I quote him (and myself): “My worst habit is... probably being naked all the time.”] I think he found a nice way to grow up in, he seems really kind and friendly and a benefactor. That’s not completely who I am yet, but it is who I aspire to be. And when it comes to his art (so singing and songwriting) he writes things that are important to him and is just a huge fan of his own work which applies to me as well.

There’s no other fandom than One Direction that I’ve completely succumbed to because it’s time consuming and probably bad for my health. Lately I’ve taken it down a notch on fandoms but here are a few others I’ve been in/a huge fan of:

- The Selection Series by Kiera Cass (book series): I identify a lot with Marlee. Sweet, little Marlee who unfortunately fell in love with someone she wasn’t supposed to fall in love with. I think everyone’s felt that attraction to something wrong before. Myself included. I identify with a few things from a few characters like Maxon who puts on a smile to hide his scars; America who isn’t afraid to speak up and who’s a walking contradiction when it comes to feelings, she has them but she’s afraid of them and she wants to show them but then she doesn’t; Celeste who hides behind her femme fatale persona (which I don’t have except when there’s a lens on me but still).

- John Green fandom (does he have a fandom??) (writer): Everything about John Green is me. Except he’s more successful and a better writer.

- The Vamps (music/band): I don’t know if any of them apply to me, honestly. Maybe Brad’s dog.

- Twilight (movie):  Probably Rosalie because I think I would regret being frozen in time after a while, especially when it comes to doing the little miracles of life like having a child or breathing. (Also, the first thing I would do as a vampire is probably kill someone in a very dramatic manner for some twisted revenge reason?)

- Winx Club (animated TV series): Bloom because her element is fire, she’s always trying to help, feels like the new kid sometimes etc.

P.S.: There should really be a fandom for James Corden because I worship that man.

4. Do you like your name?  Is there another name you think would fit you better?

My name is Lotte which according to the webbernet means free man. It’s also a name of a fish otherwise called sea devil. Alas, I think I have the best name out there, just saying. It’s part of who I am so I can’t imagine myself with any other name but I’ve always loved the name Emma!

5. Do you think of yourself as a human being or a human doing? Do you identify yourself by the things you do?

A human being. Besides the fact that I’m pretty lazy, I don’t do anything interesting? And I’m often more worried about existing than about what I’m doing in my life.

6. Are you religious/spiritual?

I was born and raised a Catholic but I don’t really think there’s one almighty force out there. I do however like to believe in magic and karma.

7. Do you care about your ethnicity?

I care in the sense that I’m aware I’m very privileged just because of my skin colour but I will never use that against someone and I wouldn’t mind having another ethnicity. 

8. What musical artists have you most felt connected to over your lifetime?

Easily Harry Styles, Taylor Swift and R.M. Drake.

9. Are you an artist?

In the sense that I like to create new things and express myself, yes.

10. Do you have a creed?

I believe in the truth and equality, loving each other and respect.

11. Describe your ideal day.

On my ideal day, it doesn’t matter what the weather is like, or who I’m with or where I am. My ideal day would just be spent with people I love (including myself!), maybe discovering a new place or rediscovering an old one and have delicious food in it. It would be a day that doesn’t end when the night falls but when it ends, you’ll have cheeks that hurt from smiling and a content longing to get in bed with your dreams.

12. Dog person or cat person?

KITTY!

13. Inside or outdoors?

Inside. I admire the outdoors but mostly from inside, sorry.

14. Are you a musician?

I can play ‘do re mi’ on the piano, that’s about it.

15. Five most influential books over your lifetime.

1) Bloem en Vlinder 2) Pluk van de Petteflet 3) The Selection - Kiera Cass

16. If you’d grown up in a different environment, do you think you’d have turned out the same?

I hope so!

17. Would you say your tumblr is a fair representation of the “real you”?

It is a little more positive sometimes than who I am. Maybe I’ll balance that out soon with some writing, but I’m not comfortable enough for that right now.

18. What’s your patronus?

According to the Buzzfeed quiz I have a doe, which means: You had a dark side to you that people too often remember, but deep down, you’re actually a courageous, loving person. You like to wear the color black and have no problem telling it like it is.

According to the Quotev quiz I have a dragon which means:  The Dragon is one of the more unique patronuses.  Those with a Dragon patronus tend to be strong on to the inside and out and protective.

19. Which Harry Potter house would you be in? Or are you a muggle?

Hufflepuff

20. Would you rather be in Middle Earth, Narnia, Hogwarts, or somewhere else?

I’d love to be in Wonderland or back in the 70s

21. Do you love easily?

I’m afraid so.

22. List the top five things you spend the most time doing, in order.

This was very eye-opening, and not in the good way

1. Sleeping 2. Tumblr 3. Obsessing over something/Overthinking 4. Getting sad or mad about what I’m overthinking 5. Draw/Write/Taking pictures

23. How often would you want to see your family every year?

I still see them every day now, I really can’t say how much (I want) that would change?

24. Have you ever felt like you had a “mind-meld” with someone?

I firstly had read this as “mind-melt” and my thoughts immediately raced to Harry Styles wowie. But, I’m guessing you mean whether I have felt telepathic with someone, as in merging our brains, thinking the same way? Yes, I have it all the time with my sister and my friend Ben.

25. Could you live as a hermit?

I think I could pull it off. I at least have more potential than anyone else in my family haha. Although I think I might go slowly insane without social contact after a long period of time.

26. How would you describe your gender/sexuality?

Female and bisexuality

27. Do you feel like your outside appearance is a fair representation of the “real you”?

I think it is. You can easily tell when I’m feeling lazy, sleep, confident, happy by the way I dress. And my hair’s always a mess so that pretty much sums me up as well. 

28. On a scale from 1 to 10, how hard is it for someone to get under your skin?

If they know how to set me off, an 8. In general life, probably way less.

29. Three songs that you connect with right now.

- You R In Love by Taylor Swift

- My Wish by Rascal Flatts

- Meet Me In The Hallway by Harry Styles

30. Pick one of your favorite quotes.

“Faites que le rêve dévore votre vie afin que la vie ne dévore pas votre rêve.” - A. De Saint-Exupéry. [English: Make the dream devour your life so that life does not devour your dream.]