#simple_things

[theheartofpenelope]

Little personal update... ... and Simple Things

Hello my darling tumblr-readers, -followers, friends. With a very small heart, I am posting this quite personal update. Not really my style but I sensed I had to do this.

You know, I have never said this out loud, but when I set deadlines for myself I really do intend on following them through. And Simple Things is a project that is near and dear to me. It is all plotted out. All written out, save for some passages here and there that need a bit of stern editing ;-) I had ‘allowed’ myself a small and limited hiatus during my yearly summer-break. And you know, it paid of as well : I wrote an entire new chapter by the seaside! Afterwards, I was more than ready to return online and edit and post the rest of ‘Simple Things’. However...

Somehow the universe had a different set of plans laid out for me. A set of plans I don’t particularly like. But we kinda have to play the cards we are dealt with, don’t we? September was an absolute rollercoaster that would make for a fiiiine telenovella. And I barely remember half of it (truly! lol). October marked the start of the next stage, which will be a very intense personal path for me. So ‘Simple Things’ will have to remain benched for the time being. This decision ishaunting me already, but there is simply no other way. That being said, I felt I needed to update those of you who were waiting for the next chapters, those of you who sent me a request (thank you for that! And I will deliver!), those of you who might have cursed my name for not keeping to my announced schedule. But...right now... health comes first. And just to be clear; ‘Simple Things’ wíll return (I can’t leave these two just hanging there) but most likely not before December. I think. I hope. I’m very cautious with my deadlines now ;-)

In short; withing a couple of days I will be following a more offline path for a couple of weeks. But I would love it ‘so’ much if you would please keep on tagging me or messaging me. I might not (be able to) respond straight away, but I know it would warm my heart so... and certainly motivate me on my path back to health after some heavy duty surgery. Special thanks to @nonsensicalobsessions​​​ @messy-insomniac-bookgirl​​​ @winterisakiller​​​ and @devikafernando​​​ for allowing me to freak out and vent, for enduring my morbid jokes and/or puns and letting my sarcasm run free at times. You have no idea how much this has meant to me. It was delightful! lol Love you all. Very much so! And hope we are up and running here again soon!

And to @winterisakiller​, @devikafernando​, @scorpionchild81, @messy-insomniac-bookgirl​, @smutsausage​, @hiddlesbitch1​ @noplacelikehome77 @wolfsmom1 @meh1217 @dina-bln​ @lilaeye39 @tinchentitri​ @fairlightswiftly​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @wolfsmom1 @stmeiou​ @ink-and-starlight​ @givemecocoaa​ @profkmoriarty13​ @nikkalia​ @massivelemon​ @lotus-eyedindiangoddess​ @argo-shila​ @emoietmoi @redfoxwritesstuff​ @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @raining-litter​ @theoneanna​ @coppercorn-and-cauldron @turniptitaness @shadyskit​ @memoriesat30​ @antyc67 @just-the-hiddles​ @sheris532 @marggot4

Much love,

HoP

[jassmenny]

Simple things.. by zzap129 https://www.reddit.com/r/EDC/comments/bbnc3r/simple_things/?utm_source=ifttt

[ao3feed-saitamagenos]

Interview: Demon Cyborg

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2xbcWww

by Simple_things

Genos is convinced to go to a interview on a talk-show.

 I've been craving some more interview fics for this pairing and I'm not entirely sure why. There's only like two or three that I've found and I've based this vaguely off of them since they were oh so good.

Words: 2723, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: ワンパンマン | One-Punch Man

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Saitama (One-Punch Man), Genos (One-Punch Man)

Relationships: Genos/Saitama (One-Punch Man)

Additional Tags: Fluff, crack fic?, Interview, Pining, angst maybe idk, Why can I never tag, Indirect confession, Pre-Relationship, i swear if this ship doesn't become canon

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2xbcWww

[theheartofpenelope]

#Simple_Things #💝

https://iglovequotes.net/

[theheartofpenelope]

SIMPLE THINGS - Chapter one

Here it is - chapter one. Enjoy gentleman!Tom. Feedback always appreciated. ;-)

Tag list: @winterisakiller, @devikafernando, @scorpionchild81, @messy-insomniac-bookgirl, @smutsausage, @hiddlesbitch1

Author’s Notes/Warnings: Not beta’d.

Also on AO3 through this link

Bonus: click here for the pinterest moodboard:

Chapter 1

London – day eleven continued

1. His presence was unexpected to her, yet not unwelcome. And while it warmed Charlotte’s heart to see a familiar face, her mind was thrown in a loop. Would she be allowed to define Tom Hiddleston as a ‘familiar face’? Granted, they had – very- pleasantly crossed paths a short while ago but afterwards they – naturally - went their separate ways. And that was no cause for concern; it was merely the way things were bound to evolve. You come together in a professional atmosphere; you meet each other’s acquaintance before your respective paths unsurprisingly part into two different directions. Such is life.

Yet, against all odds, 10 days or so later - there he was again. Leaning back in his seat, his one foot propped up on his other knee. Head slightly slanted and looking onto her with nothing but sympathy in his eyes, slightly amused even.

“Well hello,” he said with a kind and polite smile as he rose to his feet. “Hello, I erm,” Charlotte mirrored, not even bothering to hide the surprise in her voice, “I had no idea you would be here….”

“I apologize, I was late,” he paused and shook his head as he looked towards his feet suddenly, supressing a soft chuckle, “that’s a lie, I’m afraid.” “Is it?” she couldn’t help but smile at his sometimes-boyish charm. “I slipped in when the lights had already died…” “Craving privacy?” It was a sincere, albeit clichéd, question on her part. Though when she laid her eyes upon the talented actor once more, he only countered her query with a mysterious smile she could not quite place.

They walked up to one another to exchange a polite peck on the cheek when Tom absent-mindedly gently caressed her arm. A warm spark of familiarity hit her.

“Are you enjoying the play?” he kindly wondered, but Charlotte took more note of his skilful effort to steer the conversation into a different direction “Very much so,” she smiled, “I want to thank you again for arranging me a ticket.” “You’re very welcome,” he answered in honesty, “it was the least I could do for your professional assistance at ComiCon.” “I’m afraid I was just doing my job there,” she answered truthfully with an innocent shrug. “Was it still your job when you and your colleagues invited us the see the World-Cup Semi Final on the Big Screen at what’s his name’s house?” he rallied back in good fun, tempting her into that soft chuckle of hers again. “Thàt was not,” she confessed, “but I’m very pleased you all enjoyed that evening.” “We most certainly did,” a pause, “I know I did,” he couldn’t resist emphasizing that. “Even though your country lost to mine?” she teased. “Even though my country lost to yours,” he grinned in good humour.

Noting her fascination with the building, Tom kindly enlightened Charlotte on the history and architecture of the Globe Theatre. His enthusiasm was clear and enthralling to her,- and she found herself - very quickly - enjoying his company again. But that came as no surprise to her. When the lights flickered, announcing the end of intermission, they chuckled in unison at the realisation they had chatted through the interval without even setting one foot outside of the box.

His kind query on whether or not Charlotte would allow him to sit next by her side for the second part of the play, was easily answered. As he took a seat right next to her, he hesitated for a slight second, “Are you…. ” “Yes?” she urged. “I know you’re not a native speaker, and … this ìs Shakespeare,” he chuckled,  “are you able to follow?” Charlotte playfully cocked her right brow, before reciting :

           O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars            Are in the poorest thing superfluous.            Allow not nature more than nature need.            Man’s life is cheap as beast’s.

A hearty laugh escaped his lips before her excused himself for even daring to think the opposite of her. Charlotte blushed as she credited her mother matter-of-factly. In his mind Tom was pleased to take note that she wasn’t just charming and kind, her intelligence might just give him a run for his money .

 2. Through the second part both him and her were entranced within the world of King Lear. Only once was his attention brought back to her, when he noticed Charlotte discretely wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye. His gaze drooped down to the hand that lay in her lap and he wondered if he should – just momentarily - place his hand over hersor would she consider that inappropriate? He opted to do so anyway. The palm of his hand rested on the back of her hand, the tips of his long fingers softly caressing the soft cobalt-blue textile in the process. He had admired her and her dress the moment she’d walked over to him yet didn’t feel comfortable enough to compliment her on it. Tom was rewarded with her surprised smile and – he guessed - a hint of a blush. His thumb tenderly stroked the back of her hand, his fingertips curled along hers, gently drawing them in for a soft squeeze before both parties retreated.

All first dates should be held in a theatre, he mused, in surroundings that demanded soft touches and silent whispers. Where you were perfectly allowed, even expected to lean in close to show consideration to your date and, at the same time, were able to subtly take note of each other’s behaviour both consciously and subconsciously. The way she smells, the way she smiles, discovering what moves her and what shocks her, … but this wasn’t a first date now was it?

It was around the end of the play when Charlotte softly placed her hand on his arm. Tom gladly and curiously leant her his ear.

“Where’s Edmund?” she whispered. “Who?” “Edmund,” she emphasized, before adding with clear hesitation, “the son of the Count?” “That’s Edgar, love,” a soft smile crept across his lips, happy to be of assistance. “Oh,” was all that escaped her lips before she moved away in silence, but still in complete disarray. “He’s in disguise in this scene. The one they call Tom of Bedlam,” Tom leaned close as he subtly pointed towards the actor on stage, “there.” “Oooh yes,” she apologized, “sorry about that.” “That’s alright,” he whispered in her ear with a soft smile.

She smelled of jasmine, musk and a touch of vanilla.

3. When the applause had died down at the end of the play, after asking whether or not she had enjoyed the play, yet again, Charlotte had confessed to Tom that she, in fact, did lose track somewhere around the end. But her knowledge of the story was enough to guide her on. Somewhat. They shared an amused smile.

Charlotte followed his lead as Tom graciously guided her out into the hallway. She observed him exchanging pleasantries with plenty familiar faces that were unknown to her. Not that this would come as a surprise. Charlotte was the odd one out here, in this environment. She moved in different circles than Tom.  

She felt herself fade into the background but was all the more flattered when she unexpectedly heard Tom whisper quietly into her ear if she - perhaps - wanted to go out for drinks. With him. Together.

Oh yes, gladly.

They had barely set foot outside when some fans had caught wind of his presence. A group of young women had laid eyes upon Tom, yet Charlotte’s presence seemed to have gone by unnoticed. For which she was thankful. Charlotte observed the group making their way towards their favourite actor - curious for his review of the play, secretly hoping for a selfie or an autograph, a handshake or perhaps a kiss on the cheek.

Tom withdrew his hand that rested on the small of her back and swiftly locked eyes with her. “I am sò sorry,” he apologized in advance.

“That’s alright, duty calls. I completely understand,” Charlotte shook her head, adamant to make clear she wouldn’t expect anything less from a public persona such as him to want to make some time for his admirers.

 Truth be told, Charlotte had been quite surprised to run into this fine man again. Pleasantly surprised, let that be clear. But now that she was out of the comfort zone of the Theatre, where your interaction was per definition restricted to silence and maybe a stolen whisper here or there, she now became very aware of the fact that her mind was in turmoil as to how she ought to compose herself around him. So there she stood, right next to him, suddenly a bit tongue-tied, a bit apprehensive. It was a blessing and a curse at the same time.

How oddly conflicting, she thought. About 10 days ago she had thoroughly enjoyed his company. And as it became apparent back then, the feeling was mutual. They were both mature enough to quickly express to one another that ‘the incident’ that ensued later that night was a silly, yet quite pleasurable, occurrence. And though Charlotte couldn’t speak for him, shé had moved along just nicely … up until the point those blue eyes looked into hers again earlier this evening. And when Tom had thoughtfully placed his hand on hers earlier that night, something inside of her stirred. Little sparks of electricity.

My god, I’ve been one the road alone for too long, she’d cursed to herself.

 “Thank you for a lovely evening,” Charlotte added swiftly as she was certain that he would surely take this opportunity to end his evening with her.

“No,” he stood corrected, much to her surprise, “don’t leave just yet.”

Tom continued with a quickly spoken whisper, “would you be willing to take a taxi and ask the driver to drop you off at ‘The last call’?” he paused, “I will find you.”

It sounded like a promise. Charlotte chuckled and rolled her eyes, questioning whether he was at all serious. Apparently he was. And he did find her at ‘the last call’, an establishment that looked like a plain brown pub but in fact disclosed quite a picturesque garden.

She opted to sit at the very end of the garden, far away from the door opening where waiters rushed to and fro as they waited on the clientele. It was also the perfect place to offer her an almost panoramic view over the terrace and allowing her to spot his silhouette promenading down to where she was.

He stood tall and elegant as he strolled down casually. It was as if in the last half hour a cloak had fallen from his shoulders and suddenly the Tom she’d gotten to know earlier that month emerged again. It immediately eased her mind.

And when Tom slid onto the chair right across hers, Charlotte could no longer hide her amusement.

“This is all very MI6, I must confess,” she shook her tilted head. Her eyes sparkled in good humour, triggering a chuckle from him.

“I know,” he gestured, “and I apologize once more. Thank you for obliging with me. It’s not really my style to order people around.”

He ordered an Old Fashioned and huddled over it when he confessed he truly was delighted to see her again. She smiled and returned the compliment.

It wasn’t a lie.

 4. London had been groaning under a heat wave for days now. Even at night the temperatures didn’t really drop as long as one would. Like Tom, Charlotte craved for the crisp fresh air. Leaving ‘The Last Call’ they aimlessly wandered about in London, until stumbling across Hyde Park and the Kensington Gardens where a plethora of trees provided cool and fresh air.

Tom pulled the cap of his hoodie over his head tucking his gorgeous curls away. He flashed her a broad and hearty smile as he did just that. That smile melted her, time and time again. That hoodie however… She raised one eyebrow before shaking her head under a soft chuckle, “it’s probably about 21°C in the middle of the night. If I were you I’d be melting…”

“… so all of this because you took on a case that stirred up national interest?” Tom continued his questioning. He was curious, intrigued and interested.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

“I take it this is not what you wanted then?”

Charlotte vehemently shook her head, “not really no. The case, yes. The attention, no. I feel there is a sense of privacy and serenity that has to be respected in these situations. It shouldn’t matter who the requesting party is. At the end of the day we’re all flesh and blood, aren’t we?”

 “Still, you did choose to step into the limelight…” He didn’t mean it in a harsh or hurtful way. It was a mere realisation  

“True,” she paused, “but only because I felt I did not have a choice anymore. There was so much slander coming at me, I hàd to stand up and speak up. Do you know what I mean?” she frowned and shook her head, “of course you know what I mean…”

He nodded while his lips curved themselves into a small smile, “But apparently you struck a nerve with the public.”

“It would appear so…”

 It still left Charlotte astounded how the public had reacted to her first public interview. There was still some defamation to her address, but suddenly the sensitive topic was out in the open and it got people talking. And not necessarily in a negative way. The public craved for information and suddenly Charlotte’s work and vision became a point of interest. Before she realised it she was invited at several international conferences to debate about end-of-life decisions and assistance and to share her experiences. It was mind-boggling, flattering and scary.

Her father was beyond proud. The partners at her firm were very positive and encouraged her to accept the invitations that were being extended to her, and to engage in the offers that were being made to her. Besides, it wasn’t as if she had a partner or family of her own that demanded her presence back home. In all fairness, after ‘separating’ from her husband the previous year Charlotte had easily slipped into her own little comfort zone. Any friend of her could (and would) vouch that Charlotte was outgoing and spontaneous, empathic and enthusiastic. But she had kept her heart locked. Much to the frustration of her closest friends. Maybe that was the final trigger that urged Charlotte to embraced this sudden unknown path that stretched before her with her arms open wide, but with quite some trepidation.

 “And here you are,” Tom added quietly. It almost sounded redundant.  

“Here I am,…”

Tom’s eyes met hers again. He nodded with a soft smile.

“I’m glad you are. Here.”

Charlotte smiled, feeling her apprehension rise at the sudden silence in the conversation.

Start talking.

Start talking. Now.

Any minute now.

“And I’m flattered beyond words for this opportunity really, it’s quite surreal. But it feels right. As if I’m doing something that matters, you know?” she nervously babbled on until she caught Tom, standing still next to her, smiling at her absent-mindedly.

“I’m sorry,” she shook her head with a smile, “we ought to talk about more pleasant things,”

“Don’t be. You’re passionate about your work. I like that.”

“What are you working on?” she insisted

“Nothing,” he answered truthfully.

“Sounds wonderful,” she couldn’t resist a good tease .

“It is though,” he chuckled, “there’s no one monopolising my schedule, so for once I have ‘the gift of time’, to catch up with family, friends. That was long overdue to be honest. Reading books, slowly going through some scripts,”

“Want to trade places with me for a day?”

He dropped his head back and lead out a hearty laugh.

 Their conversation ran without effort, alternating small talk, an in-depth discussion, trivial jokes and random thoughts. Time seemed to fly by. One loop in the park was followed by another, and another, and another. Until…

 “Well, this is my stop,” Charlotte pointed towards the hotel across the park, “I should head back. Get some sleep.”

“Right, you’re speaking at the Conference tomorrow. I think?”

Charlotte sighed, “don’t remind me…”

“You’ll be fine,” he assured her.

She nodded quietly, “I hope so.”

“Shall I walk you up?”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good plan, I know you like your privacy. I’ll just cross the street myself, leave you in the mystery of the park,”

She slanted her head, “so thank you for a wonderful evening. It was nice seeing you again.”

“Likewise, it was erm.. nice catching up with you. For lack of a better word.”

As Charlotte bid him farewell she felt unsure on how she should behave. She settled for a casual kiss on the cheek, which he kindly returned. His arms closed around to hold her in a tender hug, a gesture she gladly accepted. Her hand unconcernedly ran over his back in a reassuring caress. He smelled of some expensive citrusy cologne. His scent was dizzying, his embrace heart-warming that had Charlotte biting her lip out of remorse for not being able to keep him there longer.

Say good night, not goodbye.

“Good night Tom,” she murmured into his arms.

“Good night Charlotte,” he replied into her soft hair, the scent of her flowery shampoo sending his mind into a trip down memory lane. As he released her from his hug, he held on to her hand a little while longer, giving it a soft squeeze before wishing her a pleasant night as she made her leave

“Charlotte?”

“Yeah?” she spun around curiously.

“Good luck tomorrow…”

A warm smile, “thank you.”

A gust of wind swept up her long hair; she tucked the loose strands behind her ear before checking traffic. He watched her a little while longer as she made her way across the road towards her hotel and out of his life. Intelligent, grounded, feminine. He smiled. Never in a million years would he have guessed how bittersweet this very moment could make him feel.

 Silly me, he cursed himself, I’ve been on the road for too long…

[groovylife]

Простые вещи: как удалить магнитные метки с одежды.

Иногда нерадивые продавцы забывают удалить пластмассовые черные метки. Пытаться разъединить их с помощью отвертки, силы и мата не получится - в магазине для этого используется мощный электромагнит. Поэтому подойдите к любой бетонной поверхности, которую не жалко( идеально подходит стенка подъезда). Со всей дури( именно со всей) ударьте магнитной бляхой по стене. Повторите при необходимости. Как правило пары раз от души достаточно Если пластмасса расколется, а сердечник еще держится, добейте беднягу молотком с другой стороны. Будьте аккуратны и берегите глаза - возможен рикошет. Некоторые произво��ители добавляют несмываемую краску в сердечник, но как я понимаю - это редкость.

[ao3feed-saitamagenos]

If I had a heart it'd be pounding

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2oVbYjT

by Simple_things

Genos falls in love with the ghost that lives in his apartment.

Too many feelings.

Words: 1938, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: ワンパンマン | One-Punch Man

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Genos (One-Punch Man), Saitama (One-Punch Man)

Relationships: Genos/Saitama (One-Punch Man)

Additional Tags: Angst, Romance, Human Genos, Ghost! Saitama, Life's a bitch, bad at tags, "borg" cries, everyone just needs a hug

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2oVbYjT

[theheartofpenelope]

SIMPLE THINGS - Prologue

The prologue is my first building block - thank you for being patient with me... much more Tom in the next chapter... promise! Meanwhile, I do hope you enjoy this part.  

Tag list: @winterisakiller, @devikafernando, @scorpionchild81, @messy-insomniac-bookgirl, @smutsausage, @hiddlesbitch1

Author’s Notes/Warnings: Not beta’d.

Also on AO3 through this link Bonus : click here for the pinterest moodboard:

London

1.

The seminar was everything Charlotte had hoped it would be. It nurtured her desire for more in-depth information on specific subjects of her interest and the attending professionals were amiable, their visions thought provoking. The fact that she would take the stage for a discourse the very next day was both a source of excitement and anxiety.

She’d promised herself to not dread this adventure she was currently experiencing, but rather to embrace it. With both arms wide open. And surprisingly enough, up until now she had managed to do so rather well… if you didn’t take into account the gut-wrenching, nerve-wracking 10 minutes she had to suffer through every time she was about to present herself on stage. You see, what Charlotte had in intelligence, she lacked in self-confidence.

After the last speech of the day, Charlotte had allowed herself a mere 15 minutes of networking before eagerly dashing off to her hotel room where she straightway jumped into the shower to freshen herself up. She swiftly slipped into a cobalt-blue dress (a summer favourite of hers, she would have to confess) and slid her feet into a pair of midnight blue pumps. Grasping her matching clutch, she set sail through the doors and into the summer night.

 Oh, the lure of recreation after a day of exertion …

Charlotte hadn’t felt so excited in a long time. It was quite strange really. The moment she set foot in the UK again, a sense of happy nostalgia settled upon her. Charlotte wasn’t British, not really. However her maternal grandparents had British roots. Although her grandfather’s job had led him all through Europe back in his young years, and his wife and 2 daughters along with him. Together they’d seen a fair share of countries, before the family ultimately settled down by the English seaside near Whitstable, Kent.

A soft smile curled across her lips as she vaguely remembered summer days spent by Whitstable Marina when she was a child, her tiny hand in her granddad’s as they strolled around looking at boats, attending the Oyster Festival and watching those silly yet traditional parades. She loved it. Although, truth be told, she was more infatuated with the girls who got to dress up as mermaids. Secretly wishing that somehow, one day, she could dress up to play a mermaid as well. It was her silver lining to the Oysters Festival. Grown-ups indulged in the culinary event, but to a child the whole Festival-site just smelled ‘funny’, ‘fishy’ and ‘yucky’. Even to this day the stench haunted her. It set her off oysters for life…

As a result of their lifestyle her grandparents’ two daughters were brought up speaking multiple languages and were encouraged to take part in life wherever it would bring them. It was a characteristic both daughters mechanically bestowed upon their own children. While both daughters aimed for permanent habitat as they grew into adulthood, a life that didn’t involve moving around all the time, they insisted their own children to travel explore and learn.

Yes, the effects on Charlotte’s generation were clear. While her brother had submerged himself in science and unsurprisingly settled for a life on the other side of the world (at NASA). Charlotte grew up to be a curious and avid traveller as well as an Anglophile, with an outspoken passion for English literature that extended from literature into drama. Her mum had prided herself on the English bedtime stories they would all read together when her children were mere kids; truly crediting this had provided the solid base for her children’s future successful endeavours. Her husband did not protest, but smiled back at her in loving admiration.

But tonight, this night, Charlotte’s excitement wasn’t solely based on happy nostalgia. Not entirely. Fact of the matter is that she had always dreamed of catching a play at Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre in London. Someday. The fact that Sir Ian McKellen was performing King Lear at the exact time when she would be in London for professional reasons was just perfect. A dream come true. Were it not that from within the bounds of her country it had seemed sheer impossible to book tickets for said play.

It had driven her absolutely mad. So when opportunity knocked some 10 days ago and she was offered a ticket, she most definitely did not decline. Quite the contrary. Charlotte was not one to beg for anything but when someone wanted to bestow a ticket upon her as a means of saying ‘thank you’, who was she to refuse it…

2.

So far, it was the perfect night already. The underground was running precisely on schedule and so Charlotte made it into the Globe Theatre right on time.

Both delighted and amazed by the sights of the Theatre under that setting summer sun, she sauntered towards the entrance, ready to watch that Shakespeare play performed, as it would have been for those watching it back in the 1600’s. Somewhat. A content smile crept across her lips, her giddy inner child leapt for joy.

The e-mail sent to her advised Charlotte to check in at the Box Office where a ticket would be kept aside under her name. She made a mental note to send a thank you note of some sort afterwards to her generous benefactor even though most likely it was his publicist who’d essentially done all the work. And subsequently mused that she would - and should - make a point out of addressing the publicist and his efforts quite clearly…

Once ‘inside’ Charlotte was formally ushered into a – in her opinion - beautiful box. The entire Theatre was constructed out of wood. The seats were plain, yet beautiful, wooden benches built in between makeshift boxes. The Theatre in its own was quite basic, taking place in open air. But the history surrounding it humbled her instantly.  

The box in which she would be seated was set in the centre of the middle floor, from where the view on the stage was nothing short of spectacular. “The RADA-box, ma’am,” the usher had courteously informed her. And it had to be said, the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art really did have the perfect seats within the entire Theatre. Charlotte happily accepted the faux-velvet cushion that was offered to her before she made her way to her designated place in the box, anxious and curious for what would ensue.

The Theatre was filling up quickly, she observed. The RADA-box however was not. When the lights faded and the curtains were about to open, she noticed one seat was left unoccupied. Shame, she thought, you’d at least expect RADA to fill up its seats, night after night… The moment Sir Ian McKellen took the stage, however, she abandoned all other thought and revelled in pure bliss. The actor, the theatre, the play, they all moved her heart.

The well-known story swept her away instantly and intermission came far too soon to her liking. While the fellow theatregoers left the box in search for refreshments, Charlotte chose to head the opposite way and walked towards the banister from where she absent-mindedly watched the Yard down below and the audience there who trickled on out into the hallway.

 She never took notice of the one man who remained in the box with her, who observed her and her inquisitive ways with an amused look. It was only when she eventually turned around - ready to get a drink herself - that his pair of familiar clear blue eyes sympathetically locked with hers…  

[ao3feed-saitamagenos]

I thought I wasn't into dudes

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2ozkzod

by Simple_things

Saitama is insecure, and worries that Genos will leave once he's realises he's an average guy who has nothing to teach. Genos proves him wrong.

In other words; the egg really needs a hug and the toaster is there to help.

Words: 1128, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: ワンパンマン | One-Punch Man

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Saitama, Genos

Relationships: Genos/Saitama (One-Punch Man)

Additional Tags: sad egg, toater to the rescue, Fluff, Little bit of angst, Love the Egg, love the toaster, lets just love everyone, I REGRET NOTHING, hugs and kisses

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2ozkzod

[ao3feed-saitamagenos]

One punch woman!

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2oJkPAX

by Simple_things

Saitama, a woman who's a hero for fun, stumbles across a cyborg who's fighting against a mosquito lady.

In other words; cute egg saves broken toaster from the mean bug lady.

Words: 1399, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: ワンパンマン | One-Punch Man

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M

Characters: Saitama (One-Punch Man), Genos (One-Punch Man), Sonic (One-Punch Man), Bang (One-Punch Man), Dr. Kuseno (One-Punch Man)

Relationships: Genos/Saitama (One-Punch Man)

Additional Tags: Pretty much the whole cast - Freeform, Fluff, like lots of fluff, Attempt at Humor, Female Saitama, cute egg, pining toaster, dont hurt the toaster, dont break the egg, borg breaks a lot, proud dad Dr. Kuseno, a bit of angst, Protective Genos

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2oJkPAX

[groovylife]

Простые вещи: Чистка наушников.

Простые вещи: Чистка наушников.

Если вы являетесь обладателем погружных наушников (те, которые засовываются в ушной канал), раньше или позже столкнетесь с неожиданным падением громкости. Потенциальных причин тому - несколько:  1) Вы глохнете >> Идите к врачу 2) Засорились фильтры. Возможно, вы и не подозреваете, что они у вас есть. Как правило, они существуют у многих наушников дороже 500 рублей. Несут они не только функцию защиты мембраны или драйвера, но и для многих моделей создают индивидуальную окраску, подчеркивая определенные частоты. Поэтому покопайтесь в коробочке и найдите нечто, похожее на маленькую отвертку, и по инструкции снимите фильтры. Здесь возникает вопрос, как удалить загрязнение. В моем случае вода не принесла облегчения. Были испробованы А) раствор AOS – несколько капель на 30-50мл – не работает Б) Перекись водорода 3% примерно треть на те же 30-50 мл – грязь отваливается прямо на глазах. Я оставил в перекиси фильтры на ночь, чистый звук вернулся.