#which again was delightfully nostalgic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

horsetailcurlers2 · 7 months ago

Text

addison montgomery fanfiction recs by pairing

(although i am *relatively* new to the greys fandom, once i finished season three i immediately obsessively scoured the internet for any addison montgomery centric fanfiction i could get my hands on. here are just a few of my favorite ones for each of my addison ships (of which there are many). this is by no means an exhaustive list. my qualifications for this are that i’m cool and have good taste and spend way too much time thinking about fictional people)

ADDEK:

-“The Climbing Way” by winter machine (this is actually probably one of my favorite fanfictions of all time, period. this author is just absolutely brilliant at capturing their dynamic and all of its complexities. the entire thing is actually from derek’s POV which i was surprised how much i enjoyed considering i can sometimes be a derek hater lol but it provides some really good insight into his character without being as forgiving as canon or as bash-y as some fics (if that makes any sort of sense?). it also combines two of my favorite addek tropes: “sad baby backstory” and “traumatic event forces them to actually confront their issues”. it is also a very captivating portrait of derek and mark’s realtionship and has lots and lots of flashbacks. big angst warning especially for the early chapters.)

-“Some Bright Morning” by winter machine (i just can’t get enough of this author. i love any addek fic that heavily features savvy and weiss bc i think they should have made more appearances in canon. or savvy should’ve at least lmao. weiss was kind of a dick. but i like him in this fic! this is a very very interesting AU because it takes place largely outiside of canon settings and features a lot of OCs. it also takes place around early season one so the mark wound is still very fresh. its set entirely on a small island in georgia during savvy’s mother’s funeral so there’s plenty of forced proximity and bed sharing. the original setting and cast of characters are really fleshed out and completely captivating. like, i would read a whole separate story just about this island and its inhabitants. also features lots of background on savvy and addison’s friendship. and plenty of angst of course. you may be sending a pattern with these recommendations)

-“do you think i have forgotten (about you)” by crime_wives (this one legitimately made me sob. like, my body produced actual tears. angsty one shot. not happy-addek. a perfect snapshot of their tragic ending)

- “Unhinged (AddisonandDerekandMark)” by RulerOfAllThatIsEvilChiFlowers (very dark. very twisty. somewhat non linear.)

- “This Hurt Can Teach Us Both” by darlingwrecks (oh my lord this one is so so addek- bittersweet, sexy, nostalgic, painful and delightful all at once. my favorite thing about this writer is the way they write backstory, especially for the Med School Trio. this is also kind of fun because we never got to see how these two dealt with their post divorce logistics. derek was just kind of like “take all the property and fuck off” which is not at all how these things work lol)

MEDDISON:

- “lately she’s undressing for revenge” by emilyprentits (only read this if you want to be driven to tear your own hair out by the emotions this will make you feel. this is one of the fics that fully convinced me to ship meddison. so so so good and it’s like it was written from inside of meredith’s actual brain)

-“i’ll show you every version of yourself tonight” by withpeopleinperson (two words: stripper addison. read it. be forewarned it’s only one chapter and has not been updated in a few years but it’s a GREAT chapter regardless)

-“the seven stages of intoxication” by theprincessdiarist (meredith grey doling out meredith grey levels of emotional dysfunction. featuring loads and loads of delightfully frustrating mutual pining)

-“Sex and Caring in Seattle” by Bluefall (meredith once again having totally normal and regular feeling about her ex boyfriend’s wife. i love this one because they are both just kind of bisexual disasters and derek is just Also There. i love the way this author perfectly captures meredith’s perpetual inability to navigate her own emotions)

*EDIT: i also realized i forgot to add that these last two were recommended to me by @crime-wives !!!

-“open the floodgates up” by SugarsweetRomantic (this has EVERYTHING you could want in a meddison fic: mutual hurt/comfort, bed sharing, friends to lovers, these two being absolute dumbasses about each other. had me crying and also kicking my feet. genuinely)

MADDISON:

-“Make This Go On Forever” by darlingwrecks (i am so in love with this universe. i usually don’t gravitate toward kid/family centric fics but this one is so so much more than that. it’s maddison, if those two had made a real go of things, stayed in new york, and kept the pregnancy. there’s even some background merder eventually (which is not usually my jam but i like in this context). very very fluffy at times, a bit angsty at others, super in character but iirc i think this was written pretty early on in the show so addison and mark’s backgrounds may be a smidge different than in canon. this is the link to the rewritten version (i think?) on ao3. the author had the original up on live journal back in the day and i could have SWORN i read a sequel that i found a link to in the depths of their LJ but i cannot find it anywhere rn)

-“When I Grow Up” by winter machine (another maddison-if-they’d-stayed-in-new-york-and-addison-kept-the-pregnancy, but with a twist that brings them to seattle to see derek, who they haven’t spoken to in seven years. a fantastic plot but also sort of just a brilliant exploration of how mark and addison would be as parents given their own childhoods and how they have pretty much been cut off from the one healthy(ish) family dynamic that either of them have experienced. there’s also background merder in this one and it actually kind of made me like merder which is a major feat)

-“Celery” by winter machine (a fun little one shot featuring Derek Being An Idiot, Drunk Addison, and Mark Crossing Boundaries. a little bit sad and a little bit funny. again, everything by this author is just great)

JADDISON:

- “A Certain Slant of Light” by darlingwrecks (this is for those of us that were weirded out by addison’s convo with amelia in season 18. a more fleshed out exploration of addison’s mental health during the pandemic. it’s a very raw and honest portrayal of depression and anxiety and how someone like addison would navigate it while being a doctor in a global pandemic and raising an 8 year old. it’s not nearly as bleak as it sounds though. lots of fluff, a little smut. also touches on how addison might’ve grieved mark and derek. and archer makes some appearances which i loved (i know he’s an asshole but i really like addison’s brother lol))

-“Diamonds in the Sky” by Ziaaaaa_sdc (there’s so few jaddison fics out there, probably because of how compressed their relationship timeline was as they tried to wrap up the show, but this writer has several and they’re all so good. there definitely aren’t enough fun AUs for them so i was really excited when i first found this. its Ballet School Jaddison and there’s actually only three chapters atm. no idea if it will be updated ever again but it’s still more than worth a read. a smidge angsty so far. also seems to be setting up a little enemies to lovers arc)

CADDISON:

-“Help Me (With The Butterflies)” by BlackRoseMatron (a very sweet one shot. this author is single-handedly keeping the caddison shippers fed and i love it. they also have some really great meddison stuff)

#read these at your own risk lol i tend to gravitate toward angst #most of these are rated T and above #the word counts vary wildly #greys anatomy #private practice #addison montgomery #addison montgomery fanfiction #addek #meddison #merdison #caddison #mark x addison #fanfiction #fanfic rec

46 notes · View notes

vintagerpg · 1 year ago

Text

Escape the Dark Castle (2017) is so goooooood. After one play, it immediately joined our regular rotation of board games. It essentially takes the idea of an adventure gamebook like Fighting Fantasy, but tears the spine off and randomizes the story. You and your friends (it’s co-op) escape the dungeon and proceed, card by card, through fifteen rooms in hope of finding a way out. In those rooms are all manner of monsters, traps, mysterious strangers and other challenges to overcome, mostly through rolling special dice. Should everyone get through the regular rooms in one piece, all that remains between the players and egress is a terrifying boss monster. Should any character die, the game is lost. Shuffle the cards, pick fifteen new ones and try again.

Items give small advantages and healing. Expansions add wrinkles (like the curses and plagues, which make things harder, or flaws, which, despite the name, are beneficial, single-use special powers). There’s even a moody dungeonsynth soundtrack on vinyl and cassette. All of that stuff enhances a game that is already great. It is exciting to play, fast paced and keeps player’s attention even when all seems lost — like Return to Dark Tower, fortunes can turn rapidly. Escape the Dark Castle is harder though — we’ve only won two times out of probably close to 30 plays [edit: our average has improved since writing this, but not by a large margin].

A huge amount of the game’s appeal rests on the shoulders of the art of Alex Crispin that decorates all the cards. He captures something of the vibe of the early 80s UK RPG scene — the art is black and white and scratchy, its subjects a mix of gross, brutish, gloomy and silly — but also feels modern and un-nostalgic (as much as the art reminds me of Fighting Fantasy, it also reminds me of Marc Rude’s art for Earth A.D. and the pointy illustrations that cover black metal records). The result is an excess of delightfully grim atmosphere. Who’d have thought dying would be so much fun?

#RPG #TTRPG #Tabletop RPG #roleplaying game #D&D #Dungeons & Dragons #Board Game #Escape the Dark Castle #Themeborne

192 notes · View notes

musings-from-an-elder-goth · 4 months ago

Text

A Day in the Life of a Goth in the 80's

Saturday, December 30th, 1989. Richmond, Virginia.

Why the penultimate day of the decade? No reason other than I well remember my general daily activities from this time period & most everyone I knew would be home for winter break so I don't have to worry about if I did anything significant with friends that day. Do I really remember everything I did on December 30th, 1989? No. I literally remember nothing from this specific day. But I remember enough of what my days were generally like so that whatever is surmised needn't necessarily be an untruth. But it was with certainty, a rather ordinary & rather dull day. Life was much, much slower paced then than now so someone used to today's world would find 1989 maddeningly plodding.

And I'm constantly asked if I'm nostalgic for those 'good old days.' I miss being young, frequently meeting beautiful goth ladies, & the many great shows I got to go to, but not for life in general as being painfully poor does not make for nostalgia. Anyway...

I would have awoken around noon. I wasn't seeing anyone at that time, so I definitely woke alone & at my dumpy little apartment (long since torn down) near the Virginia Commonwealth University campus. I would have been a bit hung over from a small party the previous night. Most students would be home for the holidays, so the party would have been small; less than 20 people at a nearby house shared by several students (also long since torn down). I was on a kick at that time where I watched Blade Runner all day, every day, so I would have fired that up. Or it could have been Hellraiser, or Aliens, or The Hunger - all equally plausible. I'd seen them all a hundred times by that point, so they were now just pleasant background noise. I didn't have cable at that place, so there wasn't much on regular TV & I probably only had 5 channels via the antenna.

My tiny studio apartment was mostly bare, just a futon, TV stand, bookcase with a few dozen books, desk & chair. I didn't have a computer or a game system at that time, but I did have a Game Boy, which was brand new in 1989. Folks who visited for the first time would inquire if I'd just been robbed, but since I knew I'd have to move every year to avoid rent gouging landlords, I'd gone full minimalist.

VCR tapes lay scattered about the floor. Clothes also lay scattered about the floor. Posters on the walls. A spare black blanket served as the window curtain.

Coffee, aspirin, & oatmeal for breakfast. Brush teeth, shower, & scrounge for reasonably clean clothes - a band t-shirt, long sleeve shirt, jeans, boots, & my well-worn, long coat. I only ever wore black, back then. Listen to the messages on the answering machine. Maybe reply to some.

Although, it was a cold 35 degrees F when I woke, the temperature quickly warmed into the upper 50's, staying there until well past midnight with delightfully overcast skies, all day long. Quite the pleasant day for Richmond in late December. (This part is true - I researched it online.)

With most of the people I knew away for winter break, I'd have to entertain myself for the bulk of the day as I probably didn't have any firm plans until early evening. So off I'd go. Blade Runner would keep playing until the tape ran out, then it would rewind and start again. It would do this until I shut off the VCR & I routinely forgot to shut it off when leaving. My well worn Walkman cassette player in my coat pocket with a few mix tapes in the other pocket (Bauhaus, Sisters of Mercy, Siouxsie & the Banshees, The Damned, Ministry, NIN, Skinny Puppy, etc.), & I'm out the door.

If you were standing on the street, you'd have seen an average height, thin, pale, 19 year old with long dark hair, dressed in black, walk across the sidewalk to a beat up old car. I routinely forgot to lock it. It was never stolen.

Saturday afternoons were for thrifting, so I'd visit a few, always starting with Fan Tastic Thrift in The Fan, which amazingly, is still there & looks exactly the same as I remember it. It was within walking distance, but since I'd be going to other places afterward, I'd drive the few blocks in my old war-wagon.

Life in general, & college especially, was much less expensive back then, but I was still just barely scraping by. The only shopping I could afford was thrift stores. Everything I owned, with the exception of underwear, socks, toothbrush, & my futon, was second hand. I would have spent at least an hour, perhaps two, in this store alone. I'd usually score some clothes, couple books, & perhaps a VCR tape - all for about $5. Thrift store clothes tended to be rather thread bare, & they didn't last long before becoming tatters, so I was constantly having to buy new old things. I'd usually run into someone I knew at Fan Tastic, but probably not this day.

I'd likely also visit The Book Exchange & Stories Comics over in Forest Hills (Stories has since relocated & The Book Exchange is no more). Stories is where I'd buy graphic novels such as Sandman & The Book Exchange was a book trading place where I could trade the thrift store books for more specialized books, mostly horror, that were readily available there. As reading was cheap entertainment, I read voraciously & it is possible that I may have stayed in & read all afternoon, but since it was a nice day out, I doubt it.

And at some point I'd probably catch a matinee at The Byrd Theater, a restored movie palace from the 20's (which also still looks just as I remember it). Although a palace, the Byrd charged peasant prices - you could watch a second run film for only $1 (it's $9 now). After the film, I'd putter about in some of the artsy shops near The Byrd, but I rarely bought anything from them - too pricey.

By now, the afternoon's gone, so I'd head home for an inexpensive dinner, most likely either spaghetti, some soup that I'd found on sale, baked potato, or some kind of rice dish. Or I might get Taco Bell - usually a couple of bean burritos which cost 60 cents each, back then. However, I once calculated that my average at-home meal only cost 50 cents, so even budget Taco Bell was double what I'd normally spend. Plus, I only ate two meals a day in those days. I was quite thin. Had you told me then the amount of money I spend now for a weeks worth of food, I might have fainted (I was so thin at that time, I did sometimes faint if I stood up too fast).

And finally, it was time for the day's main event: some band might be playing live music at a local club. Perhaps it was at The Metro on Laurel Street, or Twisters or Newgate Prison - both located on Grace Street.

I would usually learn of these shows via a poster on a telephone pole, found somewhere around my neighborhood. I usually tore down the poster to keep as a reminder (there would always be several more of the same poster underneath - they knew us well). These posters would go on my fridge at home so I wouldn't forget. I preferred The Metro as they were more likely to host bands I'd like. Over the years I saw bands such as Gwar, Corrosion of Conformity, The Smashing Pumpkins (back when they were just starting out), & Strange Boutique play there, as well as countless other bands lost to the mists of time. The Metro was located at 311 N. Laurel Street, but it closed down so long ago it's not even on the oldest Google street view image from 2007.

(The above pic is representative & not anyone I know although I would have been flirting big time with the gal on the right, for sure.)

I'd always walk to the clubs as parking was dicey & it wasn't very far. Plus if I managed to score some booze, I wouldn't have to worry about driving. Would usually arrive before the doors opened & wait in line, chatting it up with friends & acquaintances - probably flirting with any single ladies I'd just met who were friends of friends. I was always on the lookout for my next ex. I knew a ton of people then, & it was always interesting to hear about everyone's adventures since you'd seen them last. It was strange that I'd only ever see some people at a certain club & never anywhere else, while other folks I'd see everywhere.

(And if you're doing the math, yes, I knew Randy Blythe, the future lead singer of Lamb of God, who also went to VCU. I don't believe I'd met him yet in 1989 but for sure I did by late 1990. His nick-name at the time was 'Shark.' He was literally at every party & was hilarious. Shark was quite the social butterfly, so lots of folks knew him - it is not unusual for someone who went to VCU then to have known him, so I'm nothing special in that regard. I moved away before Lamb of God started & I was never a fan, so I didn't even learn he was a big deal until many years later.)

But it's entirely possible that no bands were playing at any of the nearby clubs. I wouldn't have gone to The Metro if they just had a DJ or were playing house music as goth night was on Thursdays at at that time & I didn't like the random music the DJ played on Saturday. But Thursday goth nights were always fun. Never a huge crowd, but a respectable number would put in an appearance.

There might have been another small party that night just as there had been the previous. A smaller gathering of just a few folks was also possible & someone might call (caller ID wasn't a thing yet, so I let my answering machine screen calls) & invite me over to hang out, or play Sega Genesis (Altered Beast & Ghouls 'n Ghosts slayed), or just play cards or chess.

Or I might spend the evening at home playing Tetris into the wee hours of the morning. Or read a book. Or read a local 'Zine, which were quite popular around that time. Or rent a movie from the budget video store near campus that had a decent horror selection. Or re-watch one of the scores of movies I owned. These mundane possibilities aren't very likely for a Saturday, but who's to say with so many people away for winter break?

Regardless of which of those things happened that day, I eventually went to sleep that night - December 30th, 1989 - alone in my own bed, sometime between midnight and 2 am.

And that is a very average day in the life of a goth in the 80's.

Individual results may vary.

creaturesfromelsewhere 7-18-2024

#80's goth #darkly inclined #goth #creaturesfromelsewhere #musings from an elder goth #goth aesthetic #goth style #goth music #a day in the life #randy blythe #Lamb of God #Tetris #Game Boy #Sega Genesis

4 notes · View notes

queerian · 5 months ago

Text

i decided to start watching doctor who again and because i cant just jump into the middle of things i decided to start at the beginning of NIne's run from back in 2005 and I'm on episode 4 now which is delightfully nostalgic

noticing things like Bad Wolf was introduced as early as ep 3 and also I am now closer in age to how old Christopher Eccleston was in 2005 than Billie Piper lmfao

#queerian

1 note · View note

writefightandflightclub · 3 years ago

Text

I don’t like Mondays: Steven Grant x fem! Reader blurb

Summary: after Steven’s awful Sunday he was convinced was a Friday, can you make his Monday just a little better? 🥺

Genre: fluff, meet cute, hints of romance.

Author’s note: I had ZERO (0) intention of writing for Steven Grant, yet after the week he’s had I simply wanted him to have a happy moment. Maybe I’ll never write him again -this was a very quick one- but here he is! Let me know what you think! 🧡(Obviously I don’t have lots of characterisation to lean on yet, but considering I wrote 15k for Dieter before seeing the canon… this isn’t the silliest thing I’ve attempted 🙈)

Warnings: LIGHT EP 1 SPOILERS. Follows on from his on-screen Sunday, but otherwise not canon-heavy on the Moon Knight side (more so on the gift shop side 😆). Time skips, sleeplessness, distress, questioning reality, but not the major theme. Donna is rude (shocker!). Swearing. Coupla digs at museums, soz.

Rating: teen, but my blog is 18+ please and thank you! 🙏

GIF: by @tomshiddles

You march up to the counter in the gift shop, approaching the sad sack (affectionate) man behind the sales desk. He looks like an amalgamation of every moody indie Brit-pop frontman you had a crush on as a teenager - and you enjoy that about his aesthetic. His appearance is oddly comforting to you. Nostalgic.

He looks like he hasn’t slept since Jarvis Cocker was last in the charts either, judging by the heavy bags beneath his eyes, a few shades darker than his lightly-lined tan-brown skin.

Even as you approach the desk he looks as though he is struggling to stay awake; though he does perk up marginally as you sidle up and plant you palms flat on the counter.

“Hello! Are you in charge here?” you ask brightly, your tone full of enough energy that it seems to affront him, in his tired haze. Still, he does offer you an adorable half-arsed wave, which makes your heart involuntarily melt - especially as the motion jiggles the curls waffling delightfully across his forehead.

“Hiya. No. Chance would be a fine thing. That would be Donna.” His voice is softer than you would have expected. You quite enjoy that. It’s a gentle thing. Unobtrusive. Perfectly suited for a museum or a library, in fact. Ideal for intimate cafe conversations over text books and coffee.

His accent is different to what you may have conjured in your head too. A few degrees left of local. An unusual -though not unpleasant- twang which you can’t quite place.

“Great. Can I speak to her, please? To Donna?”

“Well. I wouldn’t recommend it.” His face crumples, brow and mouth collapsing with a weight, even as he attempts a soft breathy laugh. His manner is a little awkward, you note, -like he’s not entirely comfortable in his own skin- but endearingly so. Endearing enough that you glance down to his name tag, wishing to put a name to this new face.

Steven. With a “v”.

Steven with a “v” stiffens as you glance down, perhaps mistaking your interest with a desire to lodge a formal complaint about him.

“Reception sent me over here,” you explain briefly, hoping he can help. “I have something to raise about an inaccuracy with the latest exhibition posters.” You gloss over the topic matter, not necessarily having an expectation one way or another that Steven will care about the dorky things which concern you. “There are seven and there should be nine and-” you waft your hand through the air “-blah blah blah.”

Steven’s eyes bug a little, and an unexpected smile inches over his face. He looks disproportionately happy about your complaint, for reasons you cannot fathom. “And you - a member of the public- would like to tell Donna how horrified you are with marketing’s distressing disregard for historical accuracy?” His grin is even wider now, the cloud of despondency temporarily shifted from above his head.

You clutch your handbag strap more tightly to your shoulder, and clear your throat softly. “Um. Horrified is a strong word. But something like that, yeah.” You try to read him. Is he being sarcastic?! You can’t always tell - you’re not good at that- but as you regard him you find his eyes soft and not cruel. His tone sweet and not bitter.

God. His eyes are as brown as cocoa. A brown which must be as old as history itself. A beauty effortless and timeless enough to exist as a relic on display within these walls, you think. You’re sure people would come from far and wide to gaze into them.

Quickly, you blink the thought away. Your friends are always telling you you’re a hopeless romantic. You’re finally beginning to see what they mean.

“I’ll get Donna for you. I’ll be back with you in two minutes, miss.”

You nod with gratitude and lean your hip against the counter as Steven crosses to the phone behind the desk, lifting the receiver and flattening those pretty curls to the side of his head. You watch a telltale gulp trail down his neck as he awaits pick-up, and you can practically visualise the stress coursing its way through his body as he prepares to submit his plea. “Hiya!” he says cutely, and you smile as you subtly survey his rather handsome side profile. “Alright, Donna? Yeah. There’s someone here to speak to you. Could you come upstairs, please?” There is a pause then - no doubt as he awaits Donna’s response - and you watch him hold the receiver slightly further away from his ear, as though voices are raised on the other side of the line. He looks nervously over at you and paints his face with a taut veneer of conviviality. “Okay, Donna. Well the lady is still going to be here whether I’m buried in inventory later or not. Okay?” He turns to you again, attempting to muster a bright smile as though he single-handedly stands between you and a forever tarnished reputation of the entire gift shop industry. You watch his spare hand disappear up his sleeve, and his fingers fidget with a frayed thread as Donna continues to chew him out.

“Okay,” he announces with weak fanfare, waving his hands in a circle like a shy magician with no reveal. “She’ll be right up for you. Two minutes.”

“Thank you,” you smile, and, as he stands on the other side of the counter he stiffens, his shapely jaw dropping open for a few strangled syllables to emanate - so unintelligible you think you’d need the Rosetta Stone to interpret them. Abruptly, his jaw closes again, and you realise, with displeasure, that it’s going to fall to you to carry the small talk on this occasion.

You suck at small talk.

“Mondays, eh?” you throw out there, followed by a gentle click of your tongue and an eye roll, which you’re sure may be too many embellishments. “Did you have a good weekend at least?”

“Not really,” he responds. “Seemed to fly by.” He massages his temple.

“They seem to go faster and faster, don’t they?”

He looks down at his shoes, his eyes suddenly as hollow and deep as tunnels. “You’re not wrong there.”

“What did you get up to?” you ask as casually as possible. What? He’s cute. You’re interested to find out more about him.

“You know. This and that. Got stood up. Ate some steak.” He nods his head gently, a weight settling on his brow as he hears his own words aloud.

Your head tilts in sympathy for him, and, since he looks so cut-up about it, eyes sheening wetly beneath those impossibly long lashes, you attempt to direct him towards a brighter view of things. “Oh no, that’s crap! Well, at least you got some steak out of it?”

“I’m a vegan actually, so, yeah. That wasn’t great either, to be honest.”

You smile awkwardly now, looking around the room and trying to reach for something else as a topic of conversation. However - thankfully - Steven continues talking, helping you out and confusing you further at the same time. “Went for a drive in the mountains, sort of. And somebody bought me a new fish. Gus 2. Both fins.”

Your mouth opens and closes wordlessly. He’s a little odd, isn’t he? Definitely unique. You like that. Sure, he’s somewhat sad, and a little self-deprecating, perhaps. But, even though you can barely make head nor tails of his weekend (or this conversation), you find yourself quite liking him. Enjoying his company. Enjoying the way he looks - very handsome in a bumbling, unassuming sort of way. Indeed, when he smiles about the new fish, a rare warmth blooms in your chest, flooding you all the way to your fingertips.

Steven with a “v” seems gentle and sweet and emotional. Reflecting that, he has kind features too. A softness despite the sharp angles and planes of his face. The kind of softness which should be immortalised in stone, you think, where history has instead favoured a host of gods and warmongers. You would prefer that his type of heart was more often celebrated.

You mull over his statements, trying to make sense of them. He scratches his head, as though he’s trying to do much the same thing.

The mountains he’d said? Was he in Wales or something? It’s not very mountainous round here - you’re not sure the office blocks at Canary Wharf count.

Regardless, whatever happened over the past couple of days, you get the sense his weekend had well and truly kicked him in the teeth, and you find yourself wishing for him that his Monday is somewhat brighter. Perhaps less teeth kicking too.

“How was your weekend?” he finally asks, shaking his head as though in regret that he’d neglected this reciprocal politeness for so long. He blinks bashfully at you; but you don’t get a chance to answer.

Instead, the woman who must be Donna -just has to be- emerges from a side door and steps up to the counter. Steven immediately tries to busy himself, turning to the basket of era-inappropriate Ancient Egyptian jellies on the desk in front of him and ineffectually rearranging them.

You smile broadly at Donna by way of greeting, and you nod towards the basket of sweets by way of an icebreaker. “Did you know gelatine wasn’t invented until 1682? Not sure the Ancient Egyptians would have had those.” You snort a laugh but Donna looks thoroughly unamused. Yeah. Oh well. Donna gave you the typical reception your unsolicited facts receive; but at least Steven seems to appreciate you. Indeed, Steven is looking at you in mild awe. In fact, he even drops the basket of snacks on to the floor as you seemingly fluster him, and -after exclaiming a soft “bugger”- stoops quickly and apologetically to gather them up.

“What can I do for you, love?” Donna says impatiently, tapping her heeled foot on the floor. “Ol’ Stevie here wasn’t bothering you, was he?”

At that, Steven taps his name tag repeatedly with his pointer finger. He does so tiredly, his mouth opening in a mere silent protest, as if out of habit by now more than anything.

So that’s how it is?

“Actually, Steven has been wonderfully helpful.”

Donna scoffs. “I find that hard to believe. A leopard doesn’t change its spots, does it?” Wow. You decide in that moment you really don’t like Donna. Her face drops when she sees you refuse to join in laughing at this man’s expense. “What exactly is it you needed me for?” Next, the woman stares down Steven with derision, as though he’s somehow to blame for this minor inconvenience, and deserves to suffer for it.

You don’t know this pair, but you can still almost hear the word she is transmitting to him silently via her steely glare - no Rosetta Stone needed. Inventory. Steven’s face drops as he receives it too, and as he shrinks a bit you conversely stand a little taller, feeling very protective of the man already.

“Well, Donna. I wanted to point out some inaccuracies in the exhibition poster. There are seven Gods represented, but there should be nine in the Great Ennead.”

Donna smiles thinly, folding her arms over her bust. She looks between you and Steven as though you are co-conspirators. “Did he put you up to this?” she accuses baselessly, wagging her finger between the both of you. “Are you one of his weird little friends?” Wow, again.

Okay. Well, you are not, in fact, one of Steven’s weird little friends. But perhaps you would like to be. At the least, you’d certainly prefer him as a friend than Donna.

“Excuse me?” you ask firmly, completely aghast and watching the colour drain from her face the moment she realises that she’s way off the mark. “No. In fact, I’ve never met this man before today. I’m simply a member of the public concerned with historical accuracy. You know. Even though we can’t count on our institutions for basic things like restitution of stolen artefacts to their country of origin, or divesting from those less than ethical sponsors, we should, at the very least, be able to expect basic historical accuracy, should we not? Or is that standard no longer important here either?” You fold your arms and jut out one hip for effect. “Must I inform the readers of my wildly popular weekly history column that accuracy is no longer important to this particular museum, hmm? And can I quote you on that, Donna?”

She gulps and then flashes you a rather desperate, rather wobbly smile. Meanwhile, you glance over at Steven, and his mouth is agape, his eyes glowing softly with blatant admiration following your mini tirade. His face splits with a cautious glee, and he looks primed to leap over the counter and high five you - at least, like he might if Donna were not there. She scowls at him then, as though she might punish him for failing to side with her. However, Steven simply juts out his chin in defiance. After all, what more can she threaten him with today? Putting him on inventory more?

Besides, he is soon done with Donna. His cautious but admiring study of you sends a further flush of heat to your already warmed cheeks. In fact, you feel warm all over, and you unfurl your woollen scarf suddenly from around your neck.

“My apologies,” Donna concedes. “I’ll pass your concern on to marketing immediately. Stevie-“ You glare at her. “Steven, will chuck you a couple of free tickets to the exhibition, won’t you love? To say sorry for the trouble.”

“Thank you, Donna,” you say, holding back a smug smile, and you watch her hurriedly walk out. You can tell she’s fuming.

As soon as she is gone you feel ten feet taller -only because Steven looks it, a momentary lightness and a relief from being trodden under her boot. You laugh brightly, and you shuffle forwards, coming to settle opposite him, across the breadth of the counter.

“That was bloody amazing,” he says in awe, and you flatten your palms on to the surface in front of you as you fold in mirth. “I’ve been saying for weeks marketing had done a shoddy job - and nobody listened to me.”

That’s a shame, you think. People should listen to this man. You think he must have plenty to say which is of value.

Mirroring you, Steven also tentatively flattens his palms against the countertop. “Actually. You’re amazing,” he gushes, and that flood of warmth surges in you all over again. “So amazing that I can hardly believe you’re real.”

Wow. That takes you aback. What a thing to say! To have said in such a heartfelt way. Steven looks away then, to the floor, as if he dare not look back at you, his face crumpling with a kind of torment you can’t fully comprehend. “Are you?” His voice is small. Pained, even. “Are you real?”

“Yes,” you state, with no hint of mocking, answering his question just as earnestly and plainly as it was asked. You slowly slide your palms across the surface of the table, inching your fingertips closer and closer to his own, until the very pads of your fingers contact his. The barest of touches, and yet it seems to make his breath hitch in his chest. “See? Flesh and blood, Steven. Not an apparition.”

You smile at him softly, warmly, and Steven looks down at your hands touching as though this is history itself in the making. As though this moment should be immortalised in stone. Captured and preserved so that time cannot slip away from him again. So he can know it was real.

“Do you like the Ancient Egyptians?” he asks softly, to which you nod encouragingly, urging him to go on. “Well. I have my lunch break in 20 minutes. I could give you a tour of the gallery if you like? We’ve got some cracking sarcophagi.” Your face lilts into a smile. “We don’t have a preserved Viking shit like up in Jorvik.” He scratches his crown of curls. “But I can whip you ‘round the highlights anyway.” He loses steam and confidence all of a sudden, blinking bashfully, his face tipping into a gentle, lopsided smile. “I mean. If you want to.” Then, with a start he adds. “I wouldn’t charge you or anything. It’d be free.”

Okay. Now you think he’s really really cute. “I’d like that, Steven.”

He looks happy when you say that. “Bloody brilliant. I’ll see you in 20 minutes then-” he extends his palm towards you, raising his eyebrows and waiting expectantly. When you don’t catch his gist, his smile switches sides, and he gently taps his name badge.

Oh gosh! Your name! You hurriedly introduce yourself, and you see a contentedness settle over Steven’s face as he echoes it back to you, already looking far less despondent than he had when you’d first walked in.

“Okay,” he smiles. “See you in twenty minutes?”

You nod.

Maybe you’ll pick him up a coffee. You wonder if the barista in the cafe will recall what he favours. After all, you don’t want him falling asleep on you. You imagine he’s much more interesting whilst he’s awake.

“Okay,” he repeats with satisfaction. “See you then. Laters, gators.”

At that choice phrase, your face splits in an unexpected smile, your whole middle tightening as a giggle is pushed up from your chest. You think on your feet, for a fitting sign-off of your own. “In the Nile, crocodile.”

It’s cheesy. It’s a dad joke, basically. But Steven’s bright laugh fills the whole gift shop, and for that reason, you don’t think there’s a single better thing you could have said.

While his Sunday he thought was a Friday had been looking grim, you hope you’ve already made his Monday look a little better.

He’s certainly brightened your day in return.

#steven grant x reader #Oscar Isaac #moon knight #moon knight spoilers #moon knight x reader

1K notes · View notes

zisgarbage · 2 years ago

Text

Brain rot time: ranking Final Destination films and why I’m ranking them that way

Final Destination 3

Obviously this is my favorite one! Wendy best girl. I’m scared of roller coasters so it already plays on that fear wonderfully. The movie is so delightfully nostalgic with the goth characters, the asshole jocks, the hot bimbos who are actually nice. Every character was well thought out, even to Wendy’s sister, which unfortunately can’t be said for every FD film. The deaths are also iconic, especially the famous scene of the Ashes in the tanning booths to Love Rollercoaster. The concept of the deaths being seen from the pictures was so genius they can never outdo it tbh. This film is overall 9/10 (could be gayer)

2. Final Destination 1

I have become very emotionally attached to this film. I have megalophobia and a fear of flying so I was a bit nervous on first watch. All the characters are interesting, and I just love Alex he’s so fucking bonkers 10/10 main boy my pathetic sweaty meow meow. This movie really perfected you going “holy shit” after the deaths, Carter getting hit by a fucking sign, Billy having his head cut off, it’s so insanely good I love this film. This movie, out of all of them, also helps me ponder my mortality on a deeper level. I feel like it does a good job of showing different character’s reactions to their end. With Clear accepting it from her trauma to Carter being a meathead and refusing to let anything but himself control his life(and death).

3. Final Destination 2

Kim is such an underrated visionary I really like her character. Kinda iconic they got Clear to help too, her death (as well as Alex’s) were underwhelming tho. The character’s in this film had some brutal deaths, my favorites were the airbag and flying fence deaths cause they’re just BAM. I like that the characters kinda banded together, unlike in other films where it was only a select few, all of them worked together so it was fun to see the dynamic. I LOVED that they all cheated death on 180 in one way or another so death tried to get them again like c’mon it’s so good. As a driver this it also hits somewhere close given a great aunt died in her car a very similar way. This movie also has the one of the few hetero relationships that I’ll tolerate (Kim and the cop) so yeehaw

4. Final Destination 4

Okay, I know I know but listen. I’m ranking this fourth ONLY for the scene where the racist gets dragged down the street on fire cause it’s very satisfying. There’s only like two characters in this film that I like but somehow it’s better than 5. It’s almost better knowing they all die cause it’s so hard to genuinely like any characters in the first place. The opening scene is also really memorable I always have it stuck in my head a lot. When I watch sports like racing I always fear that something will happen that’ll kill me so it’s oddly understandable. There is definitely a lot more gore in this one compared to others, it’s so stupid and tacky but good enough to make your stomach turn(that escalator death fucked me up so bad.)

5. Final Destination 5

Sorry, the only good part of this movie was the twist ending and that’s cause it turned into FD1. Clusterfuck of a film (yet I still watch it). Literally none of the characters attracted me they have the personalities of plastic spoons, Olivia was the only one I sorta liked. I just feel like these movies are more enjoyable the bigger the personalities are in characters. This movie is just honestly so forgettable for me I wish I liked it as much as other FD fans do but I can’t :/ Also Peter and Sam were definitely fruity 4/10

#this is open to discussion #i stand firmly with my first two ratings tho #final destination #final destination franchise #horror movies #final destination rating #gay cinema #sir that’s my comfort horror movie franchise

33 notes · View notes

leviathanswingman · 3 years ago

Text

cavity and sweet tooth; DiaLuci oneshot

“Lucifer, can you come here for a moment?”

Lucifer, sitting by the fireside with his head bowed ever so slightly, bangs softly brushing against his cheeks, lifted his head from the paperwork he had been working on for hours and hours with no end in sight.

He turned his head towards the source of commotion, barely able to suppress a sigh as he took note of Diavolo sitting on the ground of the house of lamentation’s music room, cross legged and soft-spined, evidently lost in conversation with none other than Lucifer’s antisocial little brother Leviathan.

Seeing them chatting as if they were life-long friends, Lucifer couldn’t help but suppress a sigh he could feel rising from the depths of his soul. With Diavolo’s devil-may-care personality, fraternizations of this sort rarely ever worked out in his favor.

After all, the demon prince had originally paid the house of lamentation a surprise visit to discuss several work-related issues that had come up on short notice . To no-one’s surprise however, that had quickly turned into Lucifer doing the actual work while Diavolo was fooling around, attempting to lure Levi into another semi-deep conversation.

“Yes?” Lucifer asked, admittedly curious to find out what exactly those two had been going on about. Leviathan was extremely reclusive by nature, so for someone to catch his attention, the topic of conversation must have been quite captivating.

He pushed up the glasses that had been sliding down his nose inch by inch, readjusting them appropriately.

Diavolo mustered him and let out a sigh. “Come here, just for a second!” When there was barely any reaction coming, he shook his head impatiently and beckoned Lucifer over. “Do I have to implore you? I promise it won't take long. I want to try something out Leviathan here mentioned-”

“Right, right.” Through years and years spent as Diavolo’s friend and right hand man, Lucifer had learned that when confronted with another one of Diavolo’s outlandish requests, indulging him before inevitably shutting him down was the easiest way to go.

He sighed once, but put aside his paperwork regardless and got up from his chair. Of course he knew this foretold nothing good. Still, it was Diavolo who was asking. And although the man often failed to remain professional, determined to break down all of Lucifer’s carefully built up walls, Lucifer knew he could trust him. Even in moments like these when Diavolo was really hellbent on testing his patience.

He walked over to Diavolo and Leviathan, stopping inches away from them and crossed his arms. “So, what's all of this about?”

Diavolo looked up to him and threw him a displeased look. “Lucifer,” he started and before Lucifer could so much as answer, Diavolo had already closed his fingers around Lucifer's wrist, giving it one big tug.

Taken off guard by Diavolo's sudden boldness, Lucifer let himself be pulled down to the ground with nothing but a badly hidden stumble.

Levi, who had been lounging on a couch behind Diavolo let out a stifled laugh before Lucifer caught his eye and gave him a proper glare, shutting him up for good.

“Diavolo!”

The demon prince let out a low chuckle as he watched Lucifer readjust his position. As soon as he was sitting semi-comfortably in front of him, Diavolo grabbed Lucifer’s forearms and lifted them

“I hope I didn't startle you now, did I?” he said with a low rumble to his voice, his eyes focusing in on Lucifer's hands which were hidden by his lavish black gloves. “Would you take these off for a second?”

Lucifer's eyebrows knit together in confusion. He lifted his eyes to look at Diavolo, whose attention seemed to be strictly focused on Lucifer's hands.

“I suppose,” he answered, yet before he could do as much as lift a finger, Diavolo was already busying himself pushing up Lucifer’s sleeve, hooking his index finger in-between smooth fabric and even smoother skin, successfully freeing Lucifer's left hand.

“There we go!”

“Remind me as to why we're doing this again?”

Diavolo scooted a little bit closer, now facing Lucifer as he took hold of his right gloved hand. “No need to look that grim. As I said, I was just wondering about something Leviathan has brought up ever so passionately. You'll be free to finish your work in no time.”

A small scowl crept up on Lucifer's face as he turned his head towards his little brother. “Levi, if this is anything but appropriate I will make sure to turn you into-”

Before he could finish his sentence Leviathan had already taken hold of his belongings and bolted out of the room. To be quite honest, Lucifer couldn't remember the last time he had seen him run quite as fast.

Lucifer decided to put his focus back on Diavolo just as he felt one of his fingers glide along his skin before disappearing in the gap between glove and hand, successfully pulling off the second glove as well.

For a moment Diavolo ogled Lucifer’s hands, hands that were seen covered way more often than bare, before raising his hands as if to give a high five.

“Mirror my movements,” he said with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his admittedly pretty eyes.

Lucifer stared at his raised palms for a moment or two until Diavolo started to get tired of waiting and motioned towards Lucifer with a quick circular motion of hand.

“Hold them up like this,” he said, putting both his hands back up at chest height.

“Diavolo, I really don't see the point in any of this,” Lucifer protested, but followed suit anyway. He mirrored Diavolo's motions, throwing him a quizzical look from behind their hands while doing so.

Diavolo threw him a blinding smile as he connected their hands palm to palm, gently but confidently, making sure that they were lined up perfectly at the bottom.

The tips of Lucifer's fingers, softly pressed against Diavolo's digits, were tingling curiously under the gentle feeling of skin against skin.

It wasn't that Lucifer was touch-starved, no, he was simply not used to these slow, soft, almost tentative touches; especially coming from Diavolo.

“Well, won't you look at that!”

“What specifically am I supposed to look at now? This is ridiculous. I still have work to do so-” he started, but before he could stand up again and return to his stack of papers Diavolo pushed his hands against Lucifer's perceptibly harder.

“Don't be like that, just look!!”

Lucifer pushed back out of reflex.

His eyes dropped down to their hands and, surprised by the unexpected sight, Lucifer felt something click in the back of his brain.

Graceful, slender hands stood in contrast to slightly bigger, stronger looking ones. For once, he did not push back in retaliation, but mustered their joined hands instead.

The sight made him feel almost nostalgic. Hands, once curled to uncertain fists, were now joined in mutual obedience and respect. It was a strange and perhaps vulnerable thing to take note of. He shook his head, face to face with his own mushy thoughts.

Still, instead of pulling away as his instincts were telling him to, Lucifer pushed back as Diavolo also considered their hands for a moment, letting out a rumbling laugh before dropping his fingers a bit to fully slide them between Lucifer’s.

“Even your hands are positively stunning, Lucifer. Pray tell, how do you manage any of it? Stunning from head to toe,” he practically mumbled, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, revealing the slightest hint of dimples on his cheeks.

Lucifer, unsure of what to do with his hands as he pretended to not have heard any of Diavolo’s flattering mumblings, furrowed his brows as he quickly blew a stray strand of hair out of his eyes.

“There you go buttering me up again like that. What even is the use of all of this?” Experimentally, he spread his fingers a little bit further apart and threw Diavolo a quick glance from under his lashes. Finally, he grew tired of keeping his fingers upright and dropped them unceremoniously, decidedly ignoring the fact that theoretically, if you were being really strict, he was holding hands with Diavolo right now. He forced himself not to think about it beyond measure.

“Permission to compliment?” Diavolo asked belatedly, a mixture of joy and mischief painting his features delightfully carefree.

“Absolutely not.”

They were adults, and additionally to that, two of the most respected demons all across the devildom. Them holding hands like frivolous adolescents would be ridiculous, preposterous even. If any of his brothers were to see him like this, they’d certainly laugh like the hyenas they were.

Certainly, Lucifer wasn't about to get embarrassed by him and Diavolo holding hands. Except for the fact that without any doubt, he was indeed feeling undeniably embarrassed.

He cleared his throat. “So, has inspiration finally struck hard enough for you to tell me what this is all about? If I recall correctly you mentioned this having been caused by another one of Levi's nonsensical ramblings?”

Diavolo’s eyes were still trained on their joined hands. He ran his thumb across the back of Lucifer’s hand and let his middle finger rub along Lucifer’s protruding knuckles. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, unaware of the redness that was unmistakably dusting his friend’s neck and ears.

Lucifer, ever so aware of his body’s own reactions, suppressed them with sheer dedication and efficiency before his tired mind could come up with any more funny ideas.

He cleared his throat and forced his attention back to their previous topic of conversation, away from Diavolo’s beautiful -of course solely objectively speaking- fingers rubbing soothing circles into the back of his hands.

“So what sort of nonsense was Levi trying to convince you of?” he tried again. And in spite of himself, Lucifer caught himself suppressing a sigh accompanied by a shudder as Diavolo ran his thumb over smooth skin, turning it into a huff before the traitorous sound had even so much as a sliver of a chance of slipping past closed lips

Although he was known all across the lands for his professionalism, that didn’t mean he was unresponsive to outward stimuli. And no matter how easily exasperated he was by Diavolo’s lack of work morale, Lucifer had grown somewhat fond of the future demon king. Not that he would ever be caught dead admitting to such a foolish thing out loud.

“Oh, nothing much. He just mentioned it being a ‘sacred trope’, i think that’s how he put it, therefore I couldn’t help but feel tempted to try it out myself! So what do you think, Lucifer?”

Lucifer averted his eyes and successfully crushed the overwhelming feeling of sheer mortification daring to overtake his body.

Of course, Diavolo had been swayed by Leviathan’s absurd ramblings, overtaken by a morbid sort of curiosity he often liked to display as a born-to-be isolated from most of society. There was nothing more to it than that.

Lucifer untangled his fingers from Diavolo’s, standing up abruptly.

“This is not only a waste of my time, but also yours. We should get back to work now. There’s no reason to bother with this any longer.” Without any hesitation, he turned back around to the abandoned stack of paperwork sitting lonely by the fireside. He took a third of the work off the pile, placed a pen on top of it and pushed it into Diavolo’s lap, who blinked at him sheepishly for a moment. Diavolo then threw him one last look, which was glaringly obvious a pout, and let out one big, dramatic sigh. “You are incorrigible Lucifer, has anyone ever told you that?”

Lucifer allowed himself one last look at Diavolo’s almost cartoonish sulking expression before he averted his gaze from the playful twinkle in Diavolo’s eyes down to the way the fabric of his pants was stretching under the promise of girthy thighs and delicate skin, willing himself to come back to his senses before it was too late and he had officially lost all common sense. “Get back to work, Diavolo. You know I’m a busy man and neither of us have all day.”

He threw the demon prince one last stimulated look, calmed his heart, picked up his pen and started writing.

#my writing #obey me #obey me diavolo #obey me lucifer #dialuci #diavolo x lucifer #lucifer x diavolo #fanfic #oneshot #hand holding #fluff #i finally felt satisfied with this #been sitting on it for months!!#i actually posted this yesterday already but felt really insecure and deleted it again #won't do that now tho bc i checked it again and changed some minor details and now i feel good about what i came up with :)

178 notes · View notes

misstrashchan · 3 years ago

Text

Holiday Podcast Recommendation:

"If you see a mouse, and you look at it like you wanna hit it with a broom or you’re scared it has diseases, it’ll just run away from you! But if you love it, and you keep really still, it’ll come right up to you. How else are you gonna find out if a mouse can tap-dance?"

Sooo... I was planning on maybe doing a podcast episode recommendations list for the Holidays like I did with Halloween, but there... wasn't as much choice. Even the Holiday special episodes I did find were mostly difficult to follow without context, (which kind of defeats the point) so there was even less choice to pick from.

But... There was one podcast in particular I wanted to make a post about as a proper recommendation to be listened to during the Holidays/Wintertime. One I love so very, very dearly. When I was thinking of podcasts episodes I'd like to listen to at this time of year, I just kept looping back to this podcast in its entirety:

The Orbiting Human Circus (of the Air)

Summary: Discover a wondrously surreal world of magic, music, and mystery, with tap dancing mice, opera singing fleas, storytelling crickets, and singing saws. This immersive, cinematic audio spectacle follows the adventures of a lonely, stage-struck janitor who is drawn into the larger-than-life universe of The Orbiting Human Circus, a fantastical, wildly popular radio show broadcast from the top of the Eiffel Tower.

But where do all these fantastical acts for the circus come from?

...and come to think of it, where did the Janitor come from? Nobody seems to know, least of all the Janitor himself.

Oh my goodness. This podcast is. So so delightfully charming and whimsical. Excellent to listen to during the Holidays. And has one my favorite musical soundtracks, which is strange, because while the audio medium being used to its full advantage in fiction podcast format in how it presents and tells it's story is something I appreciate, I don't usually find myself complimenting or noticing how music in particular is used in a podcast, but here it's sort of an integral part of its identity and story?

(despite it's nostalgic charm and big heart, I feel it's fair to warn that this podcast is fairly bittersweet as well. And I mean that in a "it made me cry on mutiple occasions out of pure joy and grief all at once" sort of way)

Our main character is Julian the Janitor at the Eiffel Tower, a very endearing, shy but sensitive underdog type of character. He dreams of joining the radio show also titled The Orbiting Human Circus of the Air, which is broadcast from a large ballroom at the top of the tower. Throughout you get small anecdotes of his past, his anxiety, his abusive family, his tendency for escapism and connecting to others and grounding himself through songs and stories, interweaved with hearing the songs, stories and acts of the show he loves, watches, and listens to from afar, along with the stagehands and host of the Orbiting Human Circus as mysteries and wonders alike are unravelled.

I feel like it's hard to talk too much about the story and characters themselves without spoiling a lot, so I sort of want to focus on the sound design/music here. For example, there's a scene in the second season (Naughty Till New Years) where Julian has been soaked through by the rain, alone, experiencing a panic attack, and has to light the stove in his room by himself so he can warm up. And he feels helpless because he's never been able to do it by himself no matter how many times he's been shown. But when trying to stir the coals one strikes on the metal sides, and sounds like a musical chord. And he purposefully starts to stir the coals more and more to try and create that sound again, and he starts to calm down and realises the music is going on without him. Because the music is real. And suddenly the simple act of lighting a stove by oneself becomes this... triumph? It's so simple and so pure and I can't do it justice with words because it's something that... has to be listened to!

And the musical saws. I didn't know they were an actual instrument, but they are! And their basically melancholic whimsy in its most refined form! Am I hyping this up too much? Most likely. I also love the parallels between the different ways saws are seen to be used for cutting wood to making music by Julian by his parental figures, transforming from something he fears to something he loves:

Julian: When I first ran away to Paris.

[Young Julian screams]

I woke up one morning and I—I didn’t really—it was when I was first at my great-grandfather’s, and I didn’t know my great-grandfather very well yet, and his apartment was really big and I turned this corner and I saw my stepfather there with a saw. He was sitting down and it was in his lap. But then my eyes adjusted and I saw it was my great-grandfather. He was sitting down in a chair and he had the saw balanced, um, between his knees. I had startled him when I’d screamed, and he just looked at me and he, he asked me to scream again. [Laughing]

And so I did.

[Half-hearted scream]

He said, ‘Perfect G major’. And then he told me to scream again.

[Young Julian holding a scream note over saw music]

And the saw on his lap started singing, and I had never seen anything like that before, I’d never heard anything like that before, it was so beautiful. It’s like an angel! And I kept singing. He told me to follow the tune.

And that was how my great-grandfather got me to sing.

In one of the Q&A's Julian Koster (the creator and writer of the podcast) talks about how his grandmother served as the inspiration for how he uses audio and sound that I really love:

"Um… the question that a lot of people asked was “What are some inspirations for the Orbiting Human Circus?” Um, things that I’d heard or listened to and, um, probably the biggest inspiration for me about what you can do with, uh, recorded sound and what that can be actually were these letters that my grandmother used to send me on cassette. She used to make these, uh, recordings on tape, she was kind of obsessed with tapes, and she made all these recordings on tape. She was… she was a really, really magical woman.

She lived in this crazy, rambling house out at the border of Queens in New York, and this place called Newhide Park, and, uh, it was just full of all these old things from a world that didn’t exist anymore, I mean, except in her house, and that I got to play with and be around, and there were all these buckets of rainwater everywhere, she collected rainwater, and I used to get to, I just have all these memories of playing with rainwater and she used it for all these different things and, uh, she was… just an incredibly creative, original, very free-spirited person and, um, her sisters were blind, um, and so I don’t know if this is where it started but she always did letters, her letters were cassettes and she would send me these tapes and it would be my favorite thing in the world when they would come, and I would put it on and it would be my grandmother’s voice and she’d be answering questions that I’d asked her in the last tape that I’d sent her – we’d send tapes back and forth.

I’d record in my tape recorder talking to her and she’d record in her tape recorder talking to me, and so, much like this, she’d be answering questions and she’d stop and she’d listen to my tape and listen to more questions and then tell me the answers to those questions and then, um, she would record things – she would just go places! Like, if she was going out somewhere, she’d bring the tape recorder with her and she’d just hit record and she would carry it around and she’d just record what was happening, not even narrating it or anything, like the tape recorder would just be going for twenty minutes, it would be sometimes a whole side of a cassette, and uh… and it was just, you’d be in this environment with her, and so I’d listen to all the sounds and I’d imagine all the things that were happening in the places that she were—was, and I would disappear into them."

I personally tend to have both a soft spot and certain wariness of surreal fantasy, especially when coupled with mystery, because it can start out strong but then have little payoff, or be difficult to follow. Especially when things are handwaved with "and it was all a dream" or "and they were a ghost the whole time" and it's not that the Orbiting Human Circus avoids all those tropes per se, but the way it presents itself is something you want to simply lose yourself in and be pulled along by at first, and by the start of the second season (the first season is fairly short, only eight episodes) you find yourself more intrigued by the mysteries, and for every answer I got left me more curious and excited. The idea of what even makes something or a person real, what it means to be truly heard and understood, and the way it's been explored in the story so far always brought a smile to my face and has yet to dissapoint.

Chouinard: [Sighs] Julian, that first night.

Julian: Mm.

Chouinard: Coco. He was still able to talk, and, er… well, we spoke. He wanted me to tell you something. He said that when you met, you told him a story and disappeared.

Chouinard: He said this moved him because of a story his mother used to read him when he was little.

Julian: Really?

Chouinard: He wanted you to know this story.

Narrator: Mr. Chouinard closes his eyes.

Chouinard: How did it go? Ah. There are monsters, and they are about to eat a little child, and suddenly a fairy, she comes, she snap her finger, all the monsters disappear. The child, they ask the fairy, ‘How did you make the monsters disappear?’ And the fairy, she say, ‘The monsters are not real.’ And the child asks the fairy, ‘Are you real?’ And the fairy, she asks the child,

‘Is love here?’

But Coco’s mother is really asking him is love here, because it is a tradition when reading this story that the parent is asking their child this question. Now, Coco, he know, of course, love is here right now in this moment. His mother is telling him a story, is very nice, she is running her fingers through his air, and so he answers ‘Yes’ for the child in the story to the fairy,

‘Yes, love is here.’

And the fairy says,

‘Then I am real.’

And then she snap her finger [snap], and she disappears. And then the child disappears! And then the book disappears, right from the hands of Coco’s mother! [Laughs] This is what they do, is like a magic trick.

- Twelthly, it's a Scream (Naughty Till New Years)

There are two seasons so far, the series is still ongoing, but production for the third has been halted due to covid. The first has eight episodes around twenty minutes, the second (Naughty Till New Years) has fourteen episodes that vary between twenty five to fifty minutes long.

I don't exactly know how to end this, but I hope people give this podcast a listen during the Holidays, or any other time of year, when you want something to warm your soul. And I'll leave another quote from the Q&A here too, because I love it too:

"But to me, I feel like so many of the most important things in the world and in this universe are in the realm of what you’d call “imaginary”, you know, like the parents lovingly telling kids a story like the Great Recitating Platypus or Santa Claus or anything, is an act of love and, you know, that love is not material, um… there aren’t any, you know, material representations of love, there’s just, um, material expressions of love and, uh, I don’t think there’s anything in the world more important to those parents or to those kids or anybody, you know, than love, and…

And so, I think so much of the substance of life actually is, um, what you would describe as imaginary and only really a part of the substance of life is real, what you’d call real"

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

#happy holidays!#the orbiting human circus of the air #tohc #julian the janitor #podcasts #podcast recommendations

40 notes · View notes

sarahjkl82-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Artistic Instinct Chapter Nine

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6500

Warnings: Language as always, warning of racist language (Nush talking about her mother's experiences), yearning, fluff to second base (yes, my darlings- IT IS ON!), alcohol is mentioned, food, anxiety attacks.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

People often think artists

Create with their hands

But really they create

with their hearts

So please be gentle

For we wear our vulnerability

On our sleeves

And freely give all we have

Hoping someone will fall

In love with the parts we offer

R. Evelyn

Chapter Nine

The sharp buzz of the door startles you out of your daydream. Laden with roughly the entire contents of your spice cupboard, vegetables, meat and prawns, your hands are crisscrossed with creases from where the weight of the totes has gouged at your skin. A smart-looking kindly gentleman greets you, “You must be Ms Pierce. Mr Pike has asked for you to wait here for him.”

Wow! Marcus’ place has a concierge - who did he have to blow to get a place like this?!

Throwing the bags onto one of the hotel lounge-like chairs, you slump into another as you rub soreness from your hands. A small ping tells you that the lift has arrived - you look over in the direction of the noise, a tremor of excitement rippling through you. An adorably scruffy Marcus, wearing old jeans and a t-shirt, steps out - his face utterly beaming on seeing you. “Hey! How are you doing?” he leans in to kiss your cheek twice - hang on, when did this start being a thing?

“Why didn’t you let me pick you up? You’ve carried so much over- lemme see your hands,” his brow knits on seeing the rapidly reddening welts as he takes your hands in his, brushing his thumbs gently across your palms.

“You live four roads away from me - they’re not that bad! And anyway, you can help me now- which floor do you live on?” You outwardly roll your eyes at the sweetness Marcus shows you, secretly enjoying the stroke of his fingers and the ghostly press of his lips still burning a hole in your cheek.

Marcus takes all of the bags from the chair, refusing point blank to entertain you helping him to take them upstairs - you watch as his arms twitch under the weight, enjoying the mixture of confusion and shock at your strength across his face, “you carried all of this?”

Nodding at him, you try to take a bag again, but he dangles it just out of reach, “Watch it - you do realise that I have two other brothers apart from Ads? I will think nothing of rugby tackling you to the floor and pinning you down,” you warn, enjoying the flush brought to his cheeks.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Marcus flusters as he calls the lift, handing you the smallest, lightest bag.

✪✪✪✪✪

Exiting at the top floor, you’re taken aback by the amount of light and quiet that washes throughout the building. Feeling so removed from the shadows cast from the tower blocks and the hustle and bustle of the streets below, the broad daylight offers a sense of serenity, a peace that invites itself into the soul and makes itself at home. As Marcus unlocks the door to his flat, you kick off your shoes at the entrance, “You don’t have to do that,” he offers through the keys in his mouth, holding the door open with his elbow, still refusing any help from you.

“Oh believe me, if I didn’t, my mum’s radar would go off and I would be cruising for a bruising,” you giggle, taking in the glorious spaciousness of his apartment, “I promise my feet aren’t too stinky and that I put on clean socks.”

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Marcus’ eyes crinkle at you, “Can I get you something to drink or eat?”

“A coffee would be ace - strong and black please,” you reply, your gaze drinking in the details of his home. Books line the shelves along one wall - such a mixture of titles ranging from airport bestsellers to obscure art catalogues - the relief to see actual paper and hardbacks adorning the shelves rather than trinkets and plants when so many keep their books electronically in their pockets.

A couple of large canvases lie propped against another - long hours preventing them from being hung - their bright colours sure to bring joyful hues to quite a stark room. There are a few photo frames dotted around - mostly pictures of a moment in time rather than poses - of people you assume are friends and family from back in the States. Handing you a steaming mug, Marcus looks over your shoulder as you look at a photo of an older couple dancing and laughing at a wedding, “That’s my mamá and papá at my oldest sister’s wedding. It was such a magical day - just so much love in the air.”

“You can feel the joy radiating from them,” you offer, lowering your gaze from him to grab the frame next to the picture of his parents, “Are these your sisters or cousins? You all look very alike.”

“Yeah, my little sisters,” he grins proudly. “This one is Beth - she’s two years younger and is a paediatrician in Texas. Has two kids with her wife, Sophie. And this one is Cat - she’s doing her own thing out on the West Coast as a musician. They definitely inherited all the clever and cool genes.”

“Hah! You’re kinder to your sisters than I am to my brothers,” you grin, “They’re all total idiots but due to some weird genetic and biological insistence, I still love them.”

Taking a gulp of your coffee, you turn back towards him, “Come on you, we’d better get to work if you want a curry this evening.”

He pouts, looking more like a sulky little boy than a middle aged man. You can’t help but laugh at the sad puppy dog eyes he is conjuring at the thought of work, “Oh poppet, what’s wrong?” you teasingly mock.

“I kinda hoped you were a magician who could just magic a curry outta nowhere so we could watch films til the others arrive,” Marcus grumps shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Well, there is UberEats for that but you horrible lot put me up to this so you’re going to help,” you wag your finger at him, “But as you’re the only one here, you get the honour of being the chief taster,” you add, tapping him playfully on the nose.

With a soft huff and a furrow of the brow, Marcus guides you into the kitchen where, whilst he was making your coffee, he has helpfully already put all the fresh produce in his fridge as the sides are delightfully blank apart from the bags of spices.

“What are we making today, Chef?”

“Ok, meat dishes are a spiced yoghurt leg of lamb, a keema - don’t you give me that look, a cardamom butter chicken, and, a prawn and courgette curry,” you turn to Marcus’ fridge to find the lamb, “Needs to come to room temperature before we cook it.”

“My tummy is rumbling already,” Marcus adds, his eyes glinting excitedly as he licks along his lower lip, the skin glistening damply. You have never quite figured out whether your love of his lips is due to their fullness or the association with the kindness of his words.

“Hah- you’re not getting away without having some veggies, too, mister,” you cluck as you hand him a bag of onions and several bulbs of garlic to skin, chop and crush for the various dishes.

“Ok, Moooom,” Marcus dramatically rolls his eyes at your dictate, “I admit, I’d rather eat sugary or salty things over green stuff but I can make an exception for curried veg.”

The arch of your eyebrow virtually reaches your hairline at him teasingly calling you mom, so you reach for the towel, twist it and flick him hard on what you’d hoped would be his hip but catch him square on his arse instead.

A yelp of pain and wide eyes greet your action, “Did you just…? Oh, it is on.! You might think you’re tough from your brothers but my sisters taught me sneaky tactics.”

“Come at me, bro!” you taunt from the other side of the kitchen, putting up a boxing stance.

Brandishing the hand without the paring knife in your general direction, he answers, “Nope, gonna use the element of surprise and attack when you least expect it!”

Tutting your tongue at Marcus’ weak ass response, you grab the spices you need to prepare under the power of your pestle and mortar. With the waft of roasting cumin soaring through the air and your battle with your boss at a supposedly declared ceasefire, everything starts to feel comfortable and easy again. You could be six years old and standing on the chair next to your mum, watching like a hawk as she lovingly prepared meals for your family with an ever burgeoning belly. It was then, during those hours shared in the galley kitchen that became your time with her when normally it felt pretty split between her work as a GP and your brothers.

What the fuck… You jump out of your skin when a warm, solid wall presses you out of your nostalgic reverie, “Hah! Pinned ya! Sneaky tactics- told ya they worked,” a deep, soft voice whispers in your ear.

Your heart flutters like a bird trying to escape its rib cage with the closeness of Marcus, the heat rising through your body from your proximity to him - a visceral response to the glorious cocktail of masculine smell from his aftershave and body wash.

What do I do next?

Why can’t I bloody think straight?

Wiggling yourself around so that you face him, his face now so close that you can feel his warm breath upon your cheeks. Your eyes playfully catch the steady gaze of Marcus’ deep soulful pools. It would only take the smallest of movements to reach forwards and kiss him right on that stupidly gorgeous, plush Cupid’s bow and crease. But… what if he doesn’t want that? He’s my fucking boss - that would be a stellar move to make…

Instead of the tiny incline forwards to press your lips against his as every inch of you screams to do so, you drop to the floor and crawl out from between his legs, “Not pinned well enough it seems,” you tease haltingly as your tongue sticks in your dry throat.

As you check the browning of the cumin seeds, out of the corner of your eye you see Marcus’ head drop sadly, hearing a small sigh - his hands still upon the work surface and feet not having moved from the position he had pinned you in moments earlier.

Did he want to...? No, surely not.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Nush,” Marcus humbly apologises, pushing himself off the side, “I hope that I haven’t made things awkward.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” you softly say, pouring the roasted cumin into the mortar, ready to be ground, “I was the one who flicked you on your arse - I am the one who should be apologising.”

You beckon gently to Marcus, who has now taken refuge in the furthest corner of the kitchen from you - wringing his hands instead of chopping the onions, “Come over here - I want you to experience one of my most favourite smells of childhood. These are roasted cumin seeds and when you grind them, they release the most heavenly scent.”

After a few grinds, you offer the bowl towards Marcus’ face as he closes the gap between you, “I… Wow! I wouldn’t have thought it would make such a difference but it’s almost like you’ve entirely transformed it. See,” the dimple deepens in that right cheek of his, “you are a magician.”

“I love how spices - a bit like paint - can take on completely different characters depending on how you treat them. Leave the spice whole and you have this mild and fragrant taste. If you crush them, then their attitude comes back tenfold with a vengeance. Toast them, and they may as well be Clark Kent in a phone booth.”

Looking up you see Marcus gazing at you with a sweet half smile on his face - could he like me… like that?

“Sorry, you don’t need to hear me blathering on,” you fluster, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture as the heat rises through your face.

Shaking his head gently without dropping your regard, “No. No, please don’t ever stop. Your passion for things is beautiful.”

“Growing up, I didn’t realise that other people didn’t have whole cupboards filled to the brim with herbs, spices and seasonings. I mean, for all the damage the British Empire reeked, you’d have hoped that the spices would have entered more of their culture, but no! Apparently, my family was the weird one for having food with a flavour,” you shrug your shoulders at some of the ridiculous things you’d heard as a child - accusations of differences you’d never thought to be of note.

Marcus chuckles at your indignance, “It’s funny you should say that. I didn’t realise that my mamá had an accent until it was pointed out to me when I was a kid.”

Noting your slightly confused expression, Marcus explains, “She’s Argentinian- came to the States as a political refugee as she was a journalist following the disappearances during the Dirty War. Met my dad, and I came along very soon after, and the rest is history..”

You can’t help but laugh at the flush on Marcus’ cheeks as he recounts his personal history to you, “Love can’t be held back when it hits and it’s obvious that they’re still crazy about each other now from that photo.”

“Exactly, no point in wasting time when you know what you want,” Marcus grins, looking at his feet.

“My parents have a similar story. My dad is as English as they come - I mean we’re on a freaking island so there’s no true thing as being completely English. My mum is from Pakistan - Karachi - it’s in the South.”

“She came over due to the fighting between East and West Pakistan - the two countries that are now Pakistan and Bangladesh. It kept interrupting her studies to become a doctor so she came to England and restarted her degree here.”

Marcus’ brow creases in thought, “Why did she restart her degree? Could the credits not just be transferred to the college she moved to in the UK?”

“Hah- yeah. It was the seventies, during a time where all Southern Asians were P*kis - no matter where they were from on the Indian subcontinent- and thought of as dirty, lesser beings. There were constant race riots for anyone who wasn’t ethnically white or English. She would never have been taken seriously with her mediocre medical training from some Adobe hut in the middle of a jungle,” you fume, pounding the seeds into fragments. The mortar being threatened with the same fate too.

Marcus’ fingers wrap around your wrist to try and prevent your rage at the ignorance of others from causing you an injury, “I am so sorry,” he pulls you into a warm, tender hug, tucking your head under his chin, “How long before food can take care of itself so we can put a film on? I think we both need a rest.”

“Hmmm, ten minutes and then most things can simmer or be switched off ready for a reheat or proper cook this evening,” you say, leaning reluctantly out of his comforting arms to go check on the bubbling saucepans of food.

“‘K. I’ll go get things set up so you can flop for a bit,” Marcus touches you gently on your shoulder as he goes to set up the front room. You go to squeeze his hand but it’s removed from your shoulder too quickly for your response.

✪✪✪✪✪

“You ready?” Marcus calls through the wall as you turn off the heat from the final pans.

“Mhm,” you mumble in response to his question - double, triple checking that everything is off. Too many fire alarms ruining perfectly lovely meals or moments.

“What did you pick?” You ask, curling up on the other end of the sofa to Marcus, “Do you have no cushions?”

“Shit, no -I’m a guy, what can I say? - lemme grab the pillows from the bed,” Marcus jumps up, calling through from his bedroom, “Bet you have loads on your couch.”

“A fuckload, but, mainly to hide the fact the springs have gone. It’s like a precarious balancing act of comfort on there,” you surreptitiously sniff the pillow, inhaling the smell of Marcus’ shampoo, “Did you give me your pillow?”

A confused look is shot at you from the other end of the sofa, “Whaddya mean?”

“Smells of your hair,” you say as you squish it into the perfect comfy shape, “Like a mixture of lemon and eucalyptus.”

“That’s a sharp nose you’ve got. I gave you the other side though,” Marcus huffs through a chuckles he shakes his head at your somewhat strange comment, “Guess I’ve been sleeping across both sides then.”

“Best thing about sleeping alone- getting to starfish across the bed. Unless of course…”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at your awkward dig to find out whether he’d brought home the goddess from Friday’s antics, “So you wanna know if I brought home Kemi?”

“She was very beautiful. You’d have been mad not to,” you try to school your expression as best you can, keeping your eyes glued to Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly singing about true love, desperate to hide the jealousy coursing through your veins.

“Must be mad then. Didn’t even kiss her,” Marcus honestly answers whilst copying your tactic of staring at the tv, “She could see that there was someone else I liked so it would have been cruel to have done anything.”

You mull this over in silence, trying not to speak, to ask a million questions.

“Nush.”

“Mhm?”

“Can I talk to y…”

You both jump as an alarm goes off on your phone to remind you to turn the lamb down in the oven.

“Oh shit. Hold that thought,” you jump up from the sofa, heading in the direction of the kitchen with zero thought of what the man at the end of the sofa is desperately trying to tell you. Fiddling with Marcus’ ridiculously swanky oven until it looks like it is doing what you want it to do, you walk back in with two ice cold beers from his fridge.

“Raided your fridge,” you cheekily grin, holding one out to Marcus, the condensation running, down your fingers, “Hope you don’t mind!”

“Good thinking, Batman,” Marcus nods in appreciation, “Any more alarms set to scare us both?”

“Only due to go off when the film is done, so…” you yawn widely, “We’ve got a while yet.”

Marcus’ hand that was slung over the back of the sofa, lifts to stroke your shoulder, “You sleepy? C'mere, you.” With a soft tug of your t-shirt sleeve, he pulls you into his side - your willingness to sink into his broad chest very apparent. Your ear is pressed against him, his heartbeat singing a lullaby to you as his fingers stroke and caress the silken waves of your hair. You wonder at how this man - a total stranger a week ago - has seemingly knitted himself into becoming a cocoon of safety for you, his gentleness and calm offering a haven of tranquility in your otherwise cacophonous world, as the light in the room slowly fades to black.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Uh oh.”

“Hey, welcome back, sunshine!” a gentle pair of fingers stroke back the hair that had drifted into your face as you dozed.

“Sorry for falling asleep. Again,” trying to finesse your way through the heat flaming your cheeks, you offer an awkward grin towards your chuckling pillow, “Guess we’d better start getting things finished as we’ve only got a couple of hours until everyone arrives.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Marcus! I don’t want to move either but this curry won’t finish cooking itself.”

“Spit spot, there’s work to be done,” Marcus trills as he adopts his best attempt at a British accent.

“What the fuck was that? Did you just turn into Dick Van Dyke or something?” You tease mercilessly at the appalling sound coming from those lips, choking back laughter at his mock offended face.

“C’mon, you’re right. We’d better get moving,” Marcus stands with a stretch and a creak before reaching back to tug you to your feet.

Back under the glowing lights of Marcus’ kitchen, his presence is now constantly close to yours as you glide together around the space - stirring, chopping and checking. Every time he passes, above the general aroma of cumin and coriander, the onions and garlic, you can smell the cedar and amber upon his skin- a deliciously masculine scent that only seeks to entangle your senses further.

“Here, try this,” you hold out a heaped teaspoon of mince curry to Marcus, “This is the keema - I promise that I only put in the two chillies you chopped for me, this time.”

“Mmm, that’s so good,” he says thickly between chews, stealing the spoon from you as he dives in for a second, third, fourth spoonful.

“Hahaha! Leave some for the others- and you need to try it with some raita and fried onions too,” you check through your dog-eared, yellowed and slightly sticky recipe book that your mum had handed you the day you’d left home at eighteen - a memo of all the times you had cooked them together.

“Shit, I’d better start the chicken,” going through the spices in front of you, you search for the cardamoms that would make the butter chicken sing, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Marcus’ head snaps up from the green beans he was preparing towards you, “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I can’t find the cardamoms for the butter chicken - gah I knew I’d fuck this up!” you cry, scraping your trembling hands through your hair, eyes flashing around the room wildly as your cortisol rises, making you want to run and scream at your failure to feed your friends.

“Whoa - where’s this coming from? C’mon, look at me. Look at me, Nush,” Marcus has his hands on either side of your shoulders, squeezing them gently, “There’s enough here to feed our whole office for the week with the daals you prepared yesterday, the vegetables we’re about to make and the meats that we’ve cooked up already here. Andy is bringing all the rice and naan, Kiri is bringing beers and Dian is on gin and tonic duty. You have done more than enough and I will not allow you to get this upset over one missing ingredient especially when there is a small store downstairs that I’m sure will have it, if we cannot find it after we look for it together.”

After seeing your numb nod as an agreement, Marcus moves his hands to the side of your head to focus your gaze on him rather than the panic seeping through you. As he strokes his thumbs across your cheeks, you allow your eyes to close and your breathing to regain a normal pattern.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?” Marcus searches your now open eyes.

“My reactions are ridiculous. Most people tell me to stop being so stupid and that just whips the storm inside my head even more,” you whisper, “But you. You know how to slow everything down and stop the spinning.”

The corner of Marcus’ mouth twitches, “D’ya wanna know a secret?” You nod at him, “As you know, I was married before. When it ended, I totally spiralled. The world kept spinning too fast and I experienced constant anxiety, very nearly burning out of my role.

“I was lucky. My boss was understanding but made me promise to get some support. He knew of someone mental health trained within the FBI who was there for mainly hostage negotiations - not part of the true psych team but someone who could help without it turning up on your record.

“Kwame worked with me for almost a year - pretty much to the point my decree absolute came through. Our sessions were done on a track - by running with me, he was teaching me the skills I needed to control my fears. By my feet hitting the tarmac, he was grounding me. By going over running techniques, he was teaching me how to control my breathing- taking longer and deeper breaths. And running is just repetition. A mindful repetition that allows your brain to have a bit of a break.

“So when I see you start to spiral, I try to give you the same steps he taught me. Get you grounded, opposite me so you copy my breathing and hope that gets you on the right track.”

“Thank you,” you drop your head forwards, relaxing onto his chest. He feels so - safe.

“You don’t need to thank me. Well, okay maybe you do as look what I’ve just spotted,” Marcus holds the offending spice aloft.

“Oh my god, I could fucking kiss you. You have just saved the curry,” you dramatically declare, clutching the cardamom jar to your heart before placing it next to the other ingredients on the counter.

“Go on then.”

What?

His comment makes you snap your head over to catch Marcus’ tremulous gaze, his eyes darting between the floor and your lips. He takes a small step, closing the small distance between the two of you, threading his fingers between yours. Each slow movement offers an unspoken opportunity for you to step away. To tease him and move on with the day.

But why on Earth would you?

With your heart racing faster and faster, you lure him ever closer with your eyes, soft but absolute in their conviction of what was about to pass between you. A small part of you understands that when you kiss him, something will change forever. That within his lips you may find the place to call home - the aching in your stomach may cease and life could start to make sense again. The anxieties of the week washing away, the pain of your collective pasts and the hint of a brighter, happier future before you.

When he doesn’t move again, you seize the moment. Pushing up onto your socked tiptoes, you tilt your chin, inclining your face until your lips come to rest upon his in the sweetest, chastest kiss. Drawing back slightly to check that Marcus is okay with a raise of your eyebrows and widened eyes, he holds your gaze steadily, similarly stunned - a mirror of each other with racing hearts and slightly parted lips. It’s like in that moment everything around you ceases to exist as anything other than extraneous nonsense - all the noise inside your head silenced by that one touch.

A small dumbstruck smile creeps across Marcus’ lips before he lowers his head to press another gentle kiss upon you. Then another. Then another. Each press of your lips a little longer. A little deeper. Your lips part to allow his tongue entry as every single thought is quietened by the taste of him. Dropping hands for his to cradle your face and yours to thread through his hair as your bodies press together tightly.

Oh the taste of him is utterly exquisite! From where you’ve been using him as chief curry taster, there’s an element of spices with the tiniest hint of mint. And how you have missed having that beautifully solid warmth of his body next to yours. Inhaling his breaths that fall upon you, your hearts match each other’s rhythms as your lips explore each other, every sensation drawing together to create a humming ball of energy, like you are standing at the point where lightning strikes the Earth.

✪✪✪✪✪

Hands fisted tightly in each other’s clothing - both stuck in the quandary of wanting to tear the fabric from your bodies but also frightened of pushing the other too far. Finally pulling apart, you gaze upon Marcus - all lust blown pupils and dopey smiles. Your foreheads come back to rest against each other, unable to quite let go just yet, not wanting to break the spell and return to reality.

“I have wanted to kiss you since perhaps the first time I met you,” Marcus murmurs as his lips gently ghost over your cheeks, “Maybe even from seeing the photo in your file when Andy drove me here from the airport.”

“Was the person, me?” You quietly ask, finally with the confidence to finish that conversation, “The reason you didn’t kiss or sleep with the goddess?”

He drops his eyes as he gives you a small nod, “Normally, I’d have just asked you out but I was scared of fucking up. It’s been a long time since I felt a spark with anyone.

“You’ve entered my life in this whirlwind of intelligence, beauty and tenderness - I didn’t want to frighten you or make you feel uncomfortable if you didn’t reciprocate.”

A thousand thoughts flood your mind as Marcus says those words. All at once, you want to tell him how safe he makes you feel. How much now that you’ve started kissing him, you never want to stop. How the cruel critics of slumber, silence themselves when you feel his heartbeat against your cheek.

Instead you stand there, silent.

Trying to stroke out the creases you’ve created in his t-shirt as you attempt to find words to put into a logical order, you notice his face twitching when the material under your fingers makes contact with his sides, “Oh Marcus, are you ticklish?”

“Um, no,” Marcus tries to deny breezily as he takes a small, hesitant step back from you, pretending to steady himself.

Making a small movement towards him, your hands at the same level as the point of the bunched fabric - you ask, “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Marcus is now eyeing you suspiciously - desperate to kiss you again but also a little worried as to what havoc your fingers might reek.

“Then, why are you moving away from me?”

“No reason…” his usually deep voice now a little tighter and higher, “Nush… What are you about to ARGH!”

His knees crumble beneath him as you attack his sensitive sides, “Gah! Quit it, woman,” he weakly commands between wheezes and hoots of laughter.

Taking full advantage of Marcus’ prone and vulnerable position, you take the opportunity to straddle him - effectively pinning him to the floor, “This is how you pin someone.”

“I let you pin me,” Marcus corrects you with a wink.

“Oh really?” you contest, entirely unconvinced by his bravado.

“Yeah,” he says with a small wiggle, bringing his hands to the back of your head, “Cos y’see, I can flip our positions quite easily.”

Suddenly, you find yourself flat on your back in Marcus’ kitchen with zero air in your lungs to form any sensible thought other than to kiss him hard. His large hands cradle your head as he props himself gently above you on his elbows. You feel his entire body covering yours. Deliciously pressing against every single inch of you and oh how it takes every bit of the minutismal amount of self control you have to not beg him to fuck you senseless into that floor.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Shit, is that your door?”

“Fuck,” Marcus pushes himself up to kneeling between your legs, “Can we pretend we’re not in?”

The harsh realisation of an evening with your colleagues, albeit lovely people, sinks in to you both.

“Nope,” you groan, popping the p with a deflated gusto, “Hang on, don’t buzz them up until I’ve tucked my boobs back into my bra.”

“I dunno, makes for easier access,” Marcus lopsidedly grins with a wink as he heads for the door.

“You certainly didn’t seem to make hard work of it earlier,” you mumble at him, before you affix a smile to your face, “Hey! How are you all doing?”

A sea of never ending hugs envelopes and separates you from Marcus as everyone piles into his apartment. The stupid grin still firmly in place on your face since you’d first kissed, you find that every time you look over at him, he’s gazing right back, mirroring that lovestruck smile.

“Oh my god, it all smells so amazing,” Dian waxes lyrical, squeezing you tightly as she inhales a lungful of exotically scented air, “What’ve we got?”

You take her by the hand into the kitchen to show all the different things you had bubbling away. Andy ducks into the kitchen behind you, laden with bags filled with pilau rice, naan and chapatis, and a beautiful small bunch of spring flowers in his other hand - tiny tête-à-tête daffodils with multiple heads along each stalk, brilliant yellow and red tulips standing like soldiers and the otherworldly looking stems of hyacinth, wickedly scenting the air under your nose as he thrusts them under there.

“Hey pretty girl, here’s all the bits you asked for. You deserve a much bigger bunch for what I’ve roped you into but I know you love the early blooms,” he offers by way of apology, sticking a kiss to the side of your forehead, “Smells fucking good though as ever. Hope you don’t mind but I’ve brought a box to take some home for Greg - he was a jealous arse this evening so I suppose I should share.”

“You know the way I cook, enough for several small armies,” you wonkily grin at him, truly thankful for the part he’d had to play, “‘Fraid there’s no easy way to say this and you will have to be the one to break it to Greg, but there’s no butter chicken tonight.”

“You’d better have a damn good excuse for this slatternly behaviour, madam,” Andy gives you a serious side eye for this infraction.

“Well…”

“Initially Nush couldn’t find the cardamoms but then we ran out of time. Plenty of food here, though,” Marcus answers for you, his hand gently holding your hip as he reaches around you to grab a couple of beers from the fridge.

You see Andy catch Marcus’ hand lightly stroking your side as he walks back to Kiritopa, but are entirely grateful when his expression and mouth say nothing. The light chatter in the kitchen, whilst Dian dips a teaspoon into all the pots, is interrupted by a small knock at the door. Sticking your head around the kitchen door, you spot Marcus opening the door to a nervous-looking Harper. Andy sidles past you, to pull her into the main room, rather than her previous position of standing on the doorstep, utterly awkward and obviously feeling quite out of place.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind me coming. I know I wasn’t there Friday but I don’t really do large crowds and drinking.”

You walk over to her amidst the chorus of “not to worry”s and “lovely to see you”s, “Fancy something to drink now? Got plenty of soft options and I think I’ll stick alongside you as I’ve got to make sure I don’t burn stuff.”

“Including yourself, this time,” Harper retorts quickly with a small smile and a raise of her eyebrows.

“Hah, chance’d be a fine thing,” Andy laughs, slapping your shoulder before turning back to clink bottles and talk with Kiri and Marcus.

✪✪✪✪✪

Through the full length doors of Marcus’ balcony, evening spring sunshine streams through, bathing the group of your co-workers in a gentle, diffused light that flows around the room coating you in a golden glow. You all eat your fill and then some, with full tummies and tired eyes - the kitchen still full of half eaten dishes.

“Can we make this a weekly thing?” Kiritopa asks through a mouthful of food, hopefully.

“Not unless we take it in turns or get a take away - I don’t have the physical or emotional energy to make this level of curry every weekend,” you pointedly remark, looking up from your coke to meet Marcus’ eyes.

You’ve spent the evening barely speaking to each other for fear of alerting the others but surreptitiously brushing past so that you can sneak touches. Tender hidden strokes that feel like the kindest stitches on hidden, gaping wounds.

Marcus stands up to help usher the evening to an end and get you to himself again, “I have some boxes for y’all to take food home as otherwise, I’ll be eating this for weeks - delicious as it is.”

Everyone thankfully takes their boss’ hint and head into the kitchen to grab platefuls to reheat after long days. Slowly saying their goodbyes, your friends drift off in the direction of their homes as you throw yourself in an exhausted heap of bones on his sofa. Two strong hands grip you under your arms, to drape your torso across his lap.

“Hey tired girl,” you slightly open your eyes to spy a smiling Marcus gazing down at you. His fingers draw lazy patterns over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“I’d like to take you on a proper date this week. Wanna do this properly. Make a bit of a fuss.”

“Yeah? Not just pin me down and ravish me on the kitchen floor?” you grin widely at him.

“Well, I’d hardly call that a ravishing…” your eyes widen, eyebrows raising at Marcus’ comment, excitement pooling in your tummy, “Yeah, I saw there’s an Argentinian restaurant in Blackheath so how about steak, Malbec and homemade ice cream before I bring you back to either yours, or mine, for another, even better ravishing?”

“That sounds amazing, although with the amount of food in my belly, I may never have to eat again,” you give your stomach a rub, “But the ravishing…”

Hauling you up to sitting across his lap, you protest loudly, “I am going to crush your legs.”

“Stop making ridiculous comments and c’mere,” Marcus demands as he gently turns your head towards him, stealing a delicate kiss from you.

“I...should… - argh! Stop kissing me for a second,” you beg halfheartedly, “I should go home.”

“Stay.”

“Please stay,” Marcus desperately entreats you, “I’m not expecting anything but I’d love it if you stayed. I know you’ve got nothing here but give me two minutes and I can have a spare toothbrush for you. I’ll drop you home early tomorrow morning so you can grab some clothes and then we can go into work together?”

It feels as though the wind is knocked out of your lungs with the depth of Marcus’ need to be around you.

How does he do it?

“There’s no games with you, are there?” you twist in Marcus’ lap so that you now straddle his thighs, placing your hands on either side of his ridiculously handsome face.

“No,” he shakes head slowly, all the while holding eye contact with you, “I’m too old and I know what I want.”

“What’s that?”

Stroking his hands up and down your sides as he nuzzles your neck, he clearly and confidently declares,

“You.”

Tag list of glory (as ever, please ask to be put on or dropped from the list): @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito-deactivated20210 @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

#pedro pascal #josé pedro balmaceda pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal#ppascaledit #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfic #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x oc reader

81 notes · View notes

sitp-recs · 4 years ago

Text

Drarry for Beginners: Sentient Hogwarts

Turn From Stone by @harryromper (2019, M, 45k)

Something happened in the hours after the final battle, after the evacuation of the living and the dead. As the last of the survivors left the castle, and as the castle itself turned its wounded back on them all. The loss of Hogwarts has been felt by their entire community. And it’s something that needs to be put right.

One of the most creative and fascinating fics I’ve ever read. The build up is amazing with a tense atmosphere that kept me on edge, trying to guess what would happen next. Up to a certain point this fic is 100% Gen and you almost forget about Drarry because there’s a lot going on and the Hogwarts plot is such a thrilling and immersive ride! The slow burn is slow and very realistic - I love that Draco and Harry are focused on the job and slowly grow aware of each other, instead of being forcefully pushed together (which would be so easy to do here!). The dialogue is organic and Harry’s crew is wonderfully written, but I consider the bold, darker take on Hermione the highlight of this fic. I still can’t believe @harryromper got to make her callous without losing her essence - it’s a pleasant surprise and quite fascinating to watch. And that grand finale! Chills!!!

Transfigurations by Resonant (2003, E, 71k)

Five years after Voldemort's defeat, Harry returns to England to help re-open Hogwarts.

Another brilliant ride, with so many rich and detailed elements I can’t help but bow to Resonant’s geniality. Re-opening Hogwarts may sound like a common trope but this is such a wonderfully crafted adventure story - the characterization is fabulous and makes everyone look both familiar and refreshing. They’re still the characters we know and love, only deeply changed by the war and the years and it’s lovely to rediscover them once again. When Harry arrives, Draco’s been at Hogwarts for a while and his dynamics with the whole crew (especially Mione and McGonagall) are delightful! I love how Harry gets insulted then attracted by his sheer confidence. I wish I could expand on their spicy relationship but the Hogwarts mystery takes priority in this list so can I just say how magically creative this universe is?! Every little detail is so clever and helps building an epic and exciting journey. I reckon this fic doesn’t work for everyone but it was written before book 5 was even published and in my opinion the quality writing, original plot and fleshed out characters make it the perfect introduction to this ship - and also to the HP magical universe in general.

At Your Service by Faith Wood (2012, E, 95k)

Hogwarts students are in danger; Harry is determined to save them all. There's only one thing he knows for certain: Draco Malfoy is somehow involved.

Come feast on another masterpiece novel, this time centered on Draco’s redemption arc. The tone is perfect and the plot is original, complex and mysterious. The way it slowly unravels is so interesting I could easily picture this as an 8th year book, which got me a bit (okay, a lot) soft and nostalgic. All voices are delightfully spot on (I love Hermione!) and Draco’s personal journey towards healing hit me right in the feels. He’s lonely and vulnerable, and it breaks my heart. The slow burn is very sweet and I particularly love the teenage quality of it. They navigate everything together and there’s a lot of exploration and awkward “firsts” as their relationship goes from tentative (aka horny and curious) to something tender and mature. Big kudos to the lovely ending giving us heartfelt closure! It’s amazing to think this was written back in 2012 and remains such a rich and satisfying journey.

#drarry for beginners #sentient hogwarts

143 notes · View notes

teeth-and-tea · 3 years ago

Text

ANIME & MANGA I HAVE BINGED IN THE LAST MONTH: May 2021

I've Been Hunting Slimes for the Past 300 Years and Now Ive Maxed Out My Level: incredibly long name aside, cute af slice of life that suffers Same Face Syndrome. I'm still happy to watch it because of how feel good and fluffy it is though, Im probably gonna forget about it in two or three years tho. 8/10.

Don't Toy With Me, Miss Nagatoro: I found out this was a webcomic first and suddenly all the HORNINESS made so much more sense. A Femdom, Degradation, Humiliation, Dacryphilia Bullies to Lovers story disguised as a high school rom-com which, I'm not going to lie, misses SKEEVY CITY by mere inches on a regular basis. However, I'm a Dom/Switch and this entire relationship sets off my dom brain center like New York City just shy of midnight. So if you're into that sort of scene, this anime is for you. If not, it's still fascinating but you're probably gonna be a little put off by how mean the Girl!Bully is to the guy MC. Unless you find out something about yourself, in which case, congrats! Stay safe, sane, consensual, and learn about the traffic light system on top of safe words, I promise you'll have a better life in general after that. Still Ongoing, currently 10/10.

Fruits Basket: IM GONNA CRY I LOVE THIS ANIME SO MUCH???? The original anime came out when I was in... I think middle school and my parents were really strict on what I watched so I never got to experience the first wave and I never bothered to watch the show ever after I moved out of the house years later. However, now that I'm much older I honestly can say this is one of my favorite anime to date, and all the characters are charming, lovable, with their own problems that I can connect to or sympathize with, and I love the MC which is always a treat tbh. Except Akito. Akito can suck a sandpaper dick. I'm only on S2 tho so no spoilers! Anime 11/10.

Monster Girl Doctor: went in thinking it was gonna be a monster girl who's a doctor with a homoerotic assistant (her name is SAPPHY okay sue me for thinking it) and ended up watching the entire dubbed harem series. Honestly, I've seen worse and this one has consistent follow-through on interesting characters and backstory enough for me to shove aside the blatant under-monstrousness of the female monsters and the harem-ness of everything else. Dubbing is honestly really good, which is a treat, and the monster designs are not the worst and the MC is tolerable. Honestly, I don't mind having watched it! The mix of cgi and the traditional animation together work pretty strangely though, and it often doesn't flow super well. 7.5/10

So I'm a Spider, So What: Dubbed version which honestly isn't that bad. Took me a bit to get into it, but after realizing that it's got a mismatched timeline a la The Witcher, it made so much more sense. Heavily done in cgi, and you can definitely tell between the 2D and 3D animations, but not the worst in the world. I went in not expecting much but it ended up being an Issekai I can stand and even enjoy. On god has a decent story... with the spider. I'd be a liar if I didnt say I skipped some of the human parts just to get back to the best part of the show. 8/10.

Somali and the Forest Spirit: I'm so fucking nostalgic for this thing it makes me want to go and hug my dad. About a human girl under threat of being eaten with a monster-dominated world. Very obvious "humans fear what they don't understand" message but instead of the humans learning tolerance it's what happens when they get annihilated first so like, kudos for the mangaka for having the guts to do that. I cried like a baby regularly. It's really good, I watched the dub and ID WATCH IT AGAIN!!! 9/10.

To Your Eternity: Oh my god. O h my g o d. Fell in love on the first episode, ngl. About if an immortal being learned how to be a person from scratch. I love it. HOWEVER. Keep a box of tissues on you at all times because you're gonna need them. I'm only on EP7 because that's all that's out right now but just know. I love it. Not for everyone but certainly for my "what do we define as human and the human condition" ass. 12/10.

Those Snow White Notes: A sports anime without any sports. About shamisen playing which is cool because I never realized how cool this instrument was??? Its neat af. OP1&2 are by Burnout Syndrom so know theyre fire. Gonna be real, its pretty alright, but not extraordinary. You can tell they were using the characters as archetypes rather than actually characters which kinda kills a lot of the emotional value you could've had, but I'm still gonna watch it. It doesn't make me cringe as hard as other sports anime tho so I consider it toptier in that regards but if you're a big sports anime fan you might be bummed out by it. Every single musical performance is INCREDIBLE tho. A solid 8/10.

Toilet Bound Hanako-kun: THE ART OMFG IT'S SO GORGEOUS. Listen, if you took coptic markers and gave them an animation budget with some manga panel direction thrown in there, that's this anime. It's beautiful. Gorgeous. I'm in love with the aesthetic every second. Story? Really good. Characters? I love the MC and his evil little twin brother asshat. Demons? Not super imaginative but I'm carrying on happy as can be anyways. Dubbing? A bit shaky at times but I found the voices charming if a little off for some of them. I'm already waiting for the second season with popcorn at the ready. 10/10.

Prison School: I watched this directly after Hanako-kun and it was like I got slapped in the face by sweaty unwashed titties and some fedora wearing schmuck's piss kink. No character is likable or redeemable. I finished it, but at what cost? 2/10 and only because a character shit his pants and I laughed.

Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle: watched this right after Prison School and it was NECESSARY tbh. Its so CUTE and honestly, im not even kidding you, the fucking funniest anime I've seen in months. I watched the dub and the VAs are having the time of their lives working on this anime not just giving it their all but literally just going ham. Its great. If I read this im sure id be bored outta my mind but the VAs giving it a joyous performance make it an insta fave for me tbh. 9/10.

Sk8 the Infinity: i watched the dub with my bro and I can confirm that its a spectacular show because we both loved it and we have vastly different tastes. Incredibly SUSPENSFUL AND STRESSFUL for an anime about skateboarding but we finished it in a single sitting tbh. The last episode is not dubbed for some reason but we still loved it. Like if Free! was less obnoxious but the only fan-service here is Joe ♡ a beefcake who owns my lesbian heart. I think there's exactly one named female character tho and I legit couldn't tell you what it was if there was a gun to my head. So, over all, 9.5/10.

That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime: I'm going to be entirely honest, I went in thinking it was going to be a boring isekai of no value. I was right about the Isekai part. It was honestly pretty interesting and focused on nation building like you're playing civilization rather than the usual "Get Stronger" narrative or "Get Some Pussy" narrative most isekais take which is delightfully refreshing. Granted there are flavors of that in this which means it doesn't alienate the big isekai watchers out there, but it's not the whole dish and it doesn't make me want to cringe the same way others do. You've got a slime MC just vibing and building a nation of monsters nbd. Does lose points for making the female monsters more humanoid than their male counterparts but makes them back by only doing perfunctory fan-service and nothing that makes me want to cry... except the butt sumo episode but in fairness it was all a terrible dream. Literally, the MC refuses to dream anymore after that. solid animation, decent voice acting, decent story, made me realize how HUGE this is in the Light Novel community???? There's like 18 fucking novels and that's WILD. 8.5/10.

MANGA:

Spirit Photographer Saburo Kono: a one shot special by the mangaka of The Promised Neverland! Honestly a really delicate touch of both super creepy and really touching, and I'm not gonna lie I'm bummed that this isn't a bigger project but the single chapter makes it a good taste for their style. I've been wondering if I wanna read/watch The Promised Neverland and now I think I will. 10/10

Deranged Detective Ron Kamonohashi: from the mangaka of Hitman Reborn comes this Sherlock and Watson derivative! Not even 20 chapters out yet with a sort of spotty schedule, I honestly love it even thought it's exactly as you expect. HOWEVER. Kamonohashi the "Sherlock" character uses mental pressure to kill all confirmed murderers and it's up to Toto the "Watson" character to save all those people before Kamonohashi kills them! It's just recently introduced a "Moriarty" family of crime lords (not a big spoiler don't worry it was obvious) so the tension surrounding Ron's past is amping up rn. Personally, I think the art is GORGEOUS, the characters engaging, and the story quick enough to keep my interest. Most mysteries are solved within a chapter or two so you're not stuck 20 chapters into one locked room mystery which is just peachy tbh. RN, 10/10. If this gets an anime, I anticipate a legion of fangirls who ship the two main characters along with their many friends. I've been alive too long to believe otherwise.

Don't Toy with Me, Miss Nagatoro: Yeah I read the manga after I watched the show. A slower build than the anime, but it works for the format, if theyd done the same with the show then I don't think it wouldve done as well. Honestly? Cuter tbh but just as horny. You dont start really LEARNING about your character until like, chap 65 tho and no real "drama" happens until like 75. A good chunk of the chapters are like 8pgs so its a breeze to get through. I love these slow burn idiots of the century. 9.5/10 because you can DEFINITELY tell the mangaka does hentai too.

Yugen's All-Ghouls Homeroom: one-shot by the mangaka for Food Wars, it's no wonder there's this constant perviness from the MC, a guy who can see and exorcise spirits. Takes place at an all girl's finishing school with KICK ASS monsters tbh, kinda bummed its not longer. The MC? Blatant monsterfucker who is also a CONFRIMED monsterfucker???? Idk i vibe with that single emotion. Everything else is hit or miss. 7/10 for monsters and cool concept, lost points for the MC very pointedly being okay with admitting he'd wait for the teenagers to be adults tho. Creepy af. Could live without that.

Hell's Paradise: I finished the entire 127chps in 3 days and I was really enthusiastic about it 90% of the time thinking about how deep it was and then I actually thought about it and I ended up being very neutral about the whole thing tbh. The art is fantastic tho, but DEFINITELY deserving of the M rating. Tits. Tits everywhere. But not tits to be ecchi over, no, monster hermit tits on beautiful women-ish figures. Now generally I give that a pass but a huge theme in the story is that men and women are "no better than one or the other" but like, lady tits are what you see 99% of the time. Men tits are few and far between. I call bullshit on most of the "deep" themes is what I'm saying, so it's like the mangaka was trying for those deep thoughts but missed the margin a little too far for my preference. That being said, the MC is a married man who loves his wife which automatically makes him my favorite character so like... idk so many good things, so many misses, but overall really spectacular themes and imagery. Unique but classic all at once. It's getting an anime and I have NO IDEA how much censorship they're gonna be doing but they're going to be doing SO MUCH. Oh yeah, and one guy is a plant/human hybrid who fucks a 1000 year old plant-hermit which makes him a canon monster fucker. And one canon non-binary character who I, a nonbinary, actually like. So like... gosh I've got mixed feelings. 8.5/10.

Choujin X: From Sui Ishida, mangaka to the mega hit Tokyo Ghoul comes this brand new manga!... Of one chapter, lol. Not really binge-y because it's just the one chapter out right now but I'm already keeping my eye on it. The grasp on anatomy in the art is PHENOMENAL and you can see Ishida flexing his art skill which is great. Can't give a true rating but I'm giving it a tentative 9/10 because I'm excited to see more.

Shag&Scoob: technically not a manga, its an ongoing webcomic I binged an subscribed to in one day and I just think it deserves more attention. Starts off funny with "what if Scooby Doo had a gun" and has been led to "what if all cartoons are aliens that survive and receive their powers by the humans that love them in an epic war with Martians." On god, its good. I finished the current series in a couple hours so it's a breezy read, highly recommend it. 9/10.

To Your Eternity: Yeah I watched the anime and then finished all current 143 chapters in like 3 days. GOD IM WEAK. I don't buy physical manga unless I know I want to remember the story forever and I'm already budgeting for the current books out. Yeah, this is a good series. That being said, definitely not for the faint of heart or those who suffer under common triggers like suicide, molestation, death, etc. It's all framed as bad and necessary to the story don't get me wrong, but it's there and has lasting affects on the characters. Incredible story telling by the creator of A Silent Voice. Keep tissues nearby at all times. 12/10.

#i've been killing slimes for 300 years and maxed out my level #don't toy with me miss nagatoro #spirit photographer saburo kono #fruits basket #deranged detective ron kamonohashi #yugen's all-ghoul's homeroom #monster girl doctor #so i'm a spider so what #somali and the forest spirit #to your eternity #jigokuraku #hell's paradise #choujin x #shag and scoob #toilet bound hanako kun #prison school #sk8 the infinity #that time i got reincarnated as a slime

45 notes · View notes

sepublic · 4 years ago

Text

Halloween Special: The Shut-In!

So, this episode is SUPPOSED to be canon, I believe? Or the idea is that within the episode itself, the events take place after the Plantars return to Wartwood, but otherwise it isn’t canon? I’m not sure, I’ll have to go check. Either way…

This was a REALLY fun, and surprisingly freaky episode, especially towards the end! I love the darker, pragmatic take on Halloween for Amphibia, and how the holiday is interpreted in this world as more of a doomsday preparation sort of thing, this show’s worldbuilding is always so fun. Let me tell you, I lost my mind when I saw human Sprig, Polly, Maddie, and Toadie! Is the implication that Toadie is actually, like, around the kids’ ages this entire time? That makes people shipping him and Mayor Toadstool, uh… VERY, er… But at the same time, I can see why everyone thought he was an adult- So an honest mistake and thus no harm done! And come to think of it, Polly seems to be about the same age as Sprig here. So, the ages may not necessarily match… But then come to think of it, it IS weird that the writers/animators chose to give Toadie a humansona, and not say, Ivy! Actually, Toadie is rather minor and feels oddly specific considering who else was excluded, so I have to wonder if there was some particular reason for this, of if the writers just felt like it?

Anyhow, the humanized versions of our frog friends are adorable, Sprig and Polly are gingers, no surprise there, and the bucket over Polly’s foot is so cute! I love how Anne didn’t even TRY to change who she was, she legit just tied up her hair and that’s it. Her story was a fun premise, and I expected the video to actually be a jumpscare that pulls in its victims at the last moment. And I mean, sort of? It definitely takes a while for that Video Cat demon thing to arrive… But I loved Anne in this bit, how she’s so smug and proud of herself and really doesn’t want to care what others say about her skills, you go girl! You go write dialogue! And I just realized, but this is possibly the closest look we have to Anne’s actual home and bedroom, assuming things haven’t been changed up all that much in the ‘bootleg’ translation… So F-Annes, analyze!

That Video Cat being unable to take criticism and literally dying to it is a mood. Also, either its eggs ARE boba, and/or they just taste like it… Either way, keep in mind that Molly legit took a huge bite out of one. Then again, more feral things have happened in Amphibia and ESPECIALLY with Polly, so I guess I’m not too shocked- Look at Anne, she wanted to eat that monster crab that almost killed Sylvia way back when! Are those cats invincible because they’re bound to no videos, or are they subject to regular criticism in general… Can they also be physically killed as well?

WHY am I even asking, when we know this isn’t canon whatsoever and is never going to come up again!? Anne insists that this happened to her phone specifically, so I guess the gag is that the phone had a previous owner named Anna, etc…. Still, while it’s funny how Anne just gets away with completely making up a story, I do have to wonder if it’s like. Allegorical to a real-life experience. Probably not, given the presence of humanized Sprig, Polly, Maddie, and Toadie… Unless Anne is recounting something that happened in Amphibia, but then Sprig and Polly would’ve recognized what Anne is alluding to, given how they remembered those other past adventures (which was a hilarious gag that I felt nostalgic to recognize). I’m probably just overthinking it.

Then, we’ve got Hop Pop’s story! He had LUSCIOUS locks, and he met the Grim Reaper- Again, allegedly. Not gonna lie I assumed that dude was Frog Lucifer or something, but this is kind of better? Either way that was pretty dark, and I love the implication that the Grim Reaper legit went out of his way to steal some rando’s hair. Poor Hop Pop, he never got his hair back! Are we going to call this canon? Does this confirm the presence of a Frog Grim Reaper?

(Side-note, I feel bad for Wally! Imagine being born on a day where everyone has to be holed up lest they turn into Were-Amphibians! That must’ve been quite the scandal for the Ribbiton family, I have to wonder if this influenced his decision to go out and live his own life with how lonely Wally was…)

Then we have Sprig’s story! I’m so happy to see Ivy again, I never realized how much I missed her and her adorable design, and her hair is so cute! Kind of reminds me of Anne with how wild it is, I want to see a one-shot of Anne bonding with Ivy over their messy hair now. I really appreciate that gag of Sprig realizing what Ivy’s about to say, about how everyone has knitting needles, and Ivy breaking down that door without remorse. This story was my favorite, not just for the comedy, but also…

DANG, that was legitimately terrifying?!When I saw those slimy frog skins, knowing those were actual people, with Hop Pop even suggesting one of them could’ve been Gary… and YIKES, what happens to the flayed bodies?!? Legit I freaked out when I saw the Seamstress, this was straight-up Leather Face, the show wasn’t even trying to be subtleor dodge around it, those were actual people skins! This was some Wartwood Chainsaw Massacre…! Seeing all of those hanging skins and faces gave me the heebie-jeebies, I didn’t expect the show to go THIS far, and while I’m impressed and glad it managed to freak me out, still! That build up to the reveal of Ivy literally ripping off that ‘face’, us seeing a glimpse of the Seamstress before her skins fall off, and it looks like she lacks any skin entirely, and that’s why she wears others’!

Only, she DOES have skin, it’s just clear- Fun fact, I watched this with my brother and he immediately recognized the Seamstress as a Glass Frog, by name, before Sprig did! I think it was a neat gag how for Sprig, he immediately calms down because for Amphibians, Glass Frogs are a somewhat normal and non-supernatural facet of life, relatively speaking. For us humans, well, it reminds me of this one myth about a woman whose head can rise from her body, unveiling her organs…

I THOUGHT the episode was going to go the sweet route, even as I joked that the Seamstress still, y’know, KILLED people. And like Apothecary Gary, the show remembered this and we legit had the Seamstress burn to death in a classic horror movie finale, and I yelled when she made one last stand to grab Ivy by the leg and bite her! I get that there’s meant to be an allegory between Ivy not appreciating her own hair, and the Seamstress not appreciating her own skin, body positivity and all that- But mostly I was too freaked out to appreciate it. Ivy waddling around blindly in present-time was adorable, though.

And, Polly! I LOVE the sort of lesson, the realization that her being gone was scarier than ANY story they’d heard that night (probably because this was real, at least I assume the other stories were fake but regardless). We get our twist of Polly turning into a Were-Tadpole, and then anticlimactically reacting while the others lose their minds as noises of ruckus are heard, implying that Polly immediately went feral afterwards, or the others just made a mess as they freaked out! Also, love the twist on the ending credits, that’s delightfully morbid…

All in all, this was a great episode! Surprisingly scary, and definitely hilarious- It’s a much-needed break from this Amphibia hiatus, especially now that I’m also dealing with the hiatus for The Owl House and Infinity Train (the latter of whom may be permanent PLEASE watch the show on HBO Max), and Kipo’s ending. I do have Carmen Sandiego’s third season to watch, though. I wonder if there’s any speculation to be gleaned from the Blue Moon turning people into monsters, and how that can connect to Blue Energy for the Calamity Box relating to the virtue of Heart. Does the Blue Moon turn people into a monstrous form that reflects the darker sides/fears of their heart? I’m probably overthinking it. Either way, I’m really glad we got a classic Holiday Episode for this show- I always love those, ESPECIALLY Halloween ones!

#amphibia #halloween #amphibia anne #anne boonchuy #amphibia hop pop #hopediah plantar #amphibia sprig #sprig plantar #amphibia polly #polly plantar #amphibia ivy

57 notes · View notes

blue-mood-blue · 4 years ago

Text

Klavier really should have expected something like this.

What was it that his family used to say about him? Something about having the best luck about the worst things, he thought, and wasn't that delightfully prophetic of them. His first case was the resounding success that collapsed the courts into the dark age of the law, his band gave him all of the fame he could ask for with decreasing returns on creative satisfaction, and his best friend of several years ago was standing in front of him in the hall on his first day back as a prosecutor.

His best friend who he had not spoken to since he left, and who was staring at him like he was a stranger. Klavier Gavin's luck struck again.

He didn’t know why he was surprised. Nearly seven years was plenty of time for a new degree and a new badge no matter how devastating the setback had been at the time, and it would have been ridiculous to expect Sebastian Debeste to be anywhere else after the work he put in. Klavier knew that time didn't stop for other people, just because he'd been gone - but it was a different feeling, confronted with the evidence that he'd missed things. He'd missed seven years of things, and in that moment it felt like a wholly unnecessary move.

Sebastian had grown his hair out. The ponytail was pulled around the side of his head, brown curls falling down the front of an outfit that said "professional" more than "student." He'd traded in the extendable pointer for a real conductor's baton, and his straight-backed posture seemed more relaxed and natural than a show at being something he wasn't. And he was tall - Klavier had stood at least a head above Sebastian the whole time they were at Themis, but Sebastian had inherited his father's height after all and was at least eye-to-eye with Klavier, if not a little taller.

He wasn’t sure he even really knew this person anymore, and the only person he could blame for that was himself.

"Ah," was his breathtakingly eloquent first syllable, followed by a too-long pause before the stunning follow up of, "Sebastian. How... nice to see you."

"Klavier." Was it worse that his voice was the same, that Klavier could tell from the way that Sebastian shifted his weight and glanced beyond him that he was uncomfortable? Even the things that were the same were different, because that voice used to greet him warmly and that hint of discomfort had always been directed at someone else. "I, uh, I hadn't heard you'd gotten back?"

He wouldn't have, he didn't say, because Klavier hadn't called. Not when the tour took off, not when it ended and they were recording at a studio that was maybe twenty minutes away if traffic was good, and not when Klavier decided now was a good time to upend his life again, because success just wasn't enough to keep him from looking behind him. He barely remembered that one last call, and he didn't remember at all if he'd said goodbye at the end of it. "Yeah, decided to keep the news off of social media for a while. No need to bring chaos to the office on my first day, right?" He flashed a winning smile, and only realized his mistake a moment later when Sebastian's frown deepened.

It was the smile he used for cameras and audiences, and something in Sebastian's face said he'd realized that. "Right. How com- ...considerate of you."

For a (nostalgic, silly) moment, Klavier wanted to know what the wrong word would have been. It was the kind of thing that used to get Seb mocked behind his back, but Klavier always found it kind of charming - a very human mistake from someone so anxious about being more than he was. Sebastian could make whatever claims about his skill he wanted to and puff up his chest like a little bird when he got praise in class, but Klavier preferred the boy who once accidentally called Professor Courte a first-rate protractor to her face, hidden behind all of the bluster and distraction.

It was too soon to say if that boy Klavier used to know was still in there, or if this more-refined version of his friend was a hint that Sebastian finally found a way to let that part of himself go. He could find out, he realized, and it would be as easy as letting the shine of stardom drop and asking if he could show Klavier around the office. If he was back anyway, if he was really thinking about making a second go at the prosecutor thing, then wasn't he allowed a second go at this, too? If Sebastian would let him. If they weren't too different now.

But that wasn't really what he was here for, was it?

"For heaven's sake, Klavier, I'm not asking you to give up your life for me. Keep that ridiculous band of yours if you really must. All I want is for someone I trust to keep an eye on my former subordinate - surely you've heard who he went running off to, and what that implies about his credibility. Surely you won't sit idly by while your brother is falsely imprisoned, or does upholding justice not mean as much to you anymore?"

He'd been back for five minutes, and it had only taken three of them to knock him into uncomfortable territory. Seven years of careful avoidance, and he hadn't gotten as far as the elevators before he was right back where he started. The whole ridiculous plan had been a mistake; let Kristoph prove his own conspiracy theories. For now, Klavier needed a quick getaway and a few hours of hiding in his office, away from the unfair distraction of those big, brown eyes.

"We could get coffee sometime?" Sebastian was fiddling with the baton, twirling it between his fingers instead of bending it to a dangerous degree. The smile on his face was nervous, but it was definitely a smile - small and unsure, but hopeful. Klavier felt pinned by it. "I mean, I'm sure you're busy so if you don't have time for that, I get it. It just seems like a nice opportunity, since you're in town and I'm... also. In town." The smile was not less genuine, even if it was starting to look a little strained.

"Coffee?" Klavier managed.

"Or tea. Or, uh. There's a new smoothie place down the road." The smile was very strained, and Sebastian twirled the baton faster. Alarmingly, Klavier felt the vice-grip on his chest tighten a little. "Yes fantastic, Sebastian, offer him a smoothie, Kay would be so proud." The mutter, which Klavier definitely wasn't supposed to hear but was too loud for him to ignore, coaxed something genuine to his own face.

An excuse. He needed any excuse that gave him time to dash for the elevators and freedom. Anything.

"I missed you."

Klavier didn't know which one of them said it. It hung in the air between them, almost echoed in the quiet hallway, and he knew the wide-eyed look on Sebastian's face was exactly mirrored on his own. It didn't seem to matter where it came from; it was true, either way.

Well, Klavier thought, somewhere between a dizzy kind of happy and a frantic kind of nervous, You're really in it now. Say hello to your day job for a while, rockstar. "I could do coffee," he said. "Or a smoothie, if you had your heart set on that."

Sebastian chuckled, and it sounded exactly like Klavier remembered. "Coffee is fine. I'm in the middle of a case right now, but maybe tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, when it finally sinks in that I have to get up early all the time, now? Sounds perfect." And, because Sebastian was starting to eye the elevators again and that felt like too little to leave him with: "I'm glad it was you."

"Me?" He cocked his head to the side; when his hair was shorter, the gesture would make his curls bounce. As it was, it still made him look like a curious bird, a description he pretended annoyed him when Klavier teased him about it.

"The first person I ran into, getting back. I'm glad that was you."

#ace attorney #sebastian debeste #klavier gavin #klavbastian #aa #aai2 #aai2 spoilers #for clarification!#in aa4 the judge says something about klavier returning #so my headcanon is that he pursued music after the gramarye case #and it was in part to run away from the fact that something about the case felt OFF #so there's been a seven year gap for him too #i've been wanting to write something for this pairing for a while #this won't be the last you'll see of it here

86 notes · View notes

lizziestudieshistory · 3 years ago

Text

Books of 2021 - Mid Year Book Freakout Tag

I haven’t been tagged but I need something to queue while I’m on holiday, and I want to revisit my reading for the first half of this year... Anyway, if you want to do it then consider yourself tagged by me!

1. Best book you’ve read so far in 2021

Okay two answer because I’m one of those people who can’t make a straight forward decision!

Best reread: Assassin’s Apprentice by Robin Hobb - Farseer is technically not Hobb’s best series, but it’s my favourite and Assassin’s Apprentice is my nostalgic favourite within the series. Whenever I read this book it feels like I’m coming home and not many books have managed to make this impression on me.

Best new read: Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgommery - it was hard to choose this one because there were a few I’ve loved but I’m trying not to repeat answers. I’ve loved every adaptation of Anne of Green Gables I’ve seen but I’d not read the book all the way through before, well I managed it this year and fell completely in love. It made me laugh, cry, and feel like a little girl again!

2. Best sequel you've read so far in 2021

The Burning God by R.F. Kuang? - I’ve not read that many sequels this year, not new to me sequals anyway because I spent last year trying to finish my ongoing series... I’ve read a surprising amount of standalones and first books in series though, so I’ll have some by December I suppose. So it’s this one by default.

I did like The Burning God, but it’s the weakest in the Poppy War trilogy and I was slightly disappointed by the ending. As a historian I appreciated the messiness and unsatisfying nature, but as a reader I was left questioning ‘is that it?’ I also have major issues with the structure and pacing of this book, so I’d take this answer with a pinch of salt.

3. New release you haven't read yet, but want to

The Kingdoms by Natasha Pulley - I love Pulley’s writing and this one sounds SO GOOD, I can’t say much more to be honest. Someone remind me to read it if I haven’t by December!

4. Most anticipated release for the second half of the year

The Untold Story by Genevieve Cogman - another one by default... I’m not that up to date on new releases unless it’s from an established author. I need to read 3 books before I can start this one though...

It would be Agatha’s installment in Gail Carriger’s Delightfully Deadly series but I’m not sure if it’s coming out this year or not? I’d be very grateful if anyone knows and would let me know!

5. Biggest disappointment

Again two books because I’ve got a book I hated the most, and one that was a let down - I guess disappointment isn’t hatred but I’m going to give both answers.

Hated: Villette by Charlotte Bronte - I can’t say much more on this than I already have... However, I hated it with every fiber of my being! I was looking forward to Villette, especially as I’m not a fan of the way Bronte framed the romance in Jane Eyre and I was told this one would make up for it. At least with Jane Eyre it felt like Rochester genuinely liked Jane, it wasn’t healthy but I understood it. This one was worse, so that in addition to the appaling writing style and framing has put me off Charlotte Bronte completely - which is a shame because I wanted to complete all the Bronte’s novels before I turn 25... Well at least I still have Anne and Emily!

Let down: Promise of Blood by Brian McClellan - I just didn’t get on with this one, I’m not a fan of action driven fantasy novels, or hard magic systems. The magic felt gimmicky (in a similar style to Mistborn, but less well developed and I didn’t like Allomancy that much...) and the characters fell flat. It’s a book that will, and does, work well for other people but it wasn’t for me.

6. Biggest surprise

The Grisha Trilogy by Leigh Bardugo - I usually dislike YA fantasy, especially earlier series that I missed when I was a teenager. I also typically dislike fantasy that focuses too much on relationship drama... Yet I devoured this one?! I couldn’t stop reading! I’m not going to claim it’s a great piece of literature, however, I had so much fun with it. If you think too hard this series will fall apart at the seems, but it’s a lot of ‘trashy’ fun and incredibly entertaining.

7. Favourite new author (debut or new to you)

Tamzin Merchant!* She could have fallen into the biggest surprise category because I was expecting her prose to be a bit...purple? And the story to be a bit naff - that’s my own prejudice against actors writing novels showing. But this book was a delight to read. To be honest Merchant’s prose was a bit purple BUT it suited the story so well! She knocked it out of the park with her debut children’s story, The Hatmakers, and I’m in love! I can’t wait for the sequel and I suspect I’ll be reading whatever she decided to release.

*I don’t typically like to claim an author as a favourite until I’ve read more than one book by them, however, I’ve not read that many new to me authors this year as I’m reading through my physical tbr. The only other option would be Lara Elena Donnelly but she’s featuring elsewhere! However, Donnelly is another one who astonished me with the quality of her writing, much like Merchant her prose perfectly fits the tone of her series.

8. Newest fictional crush

The Darkling and/or Nikolai from Leigh Bardugo’s Grishaverse - another by default sort of answer, I’m not one for fictional crushes but the Grisha trilogy brought out my inner teenager. These two would have been right up my alley when I was 15. (Now if we’re talking about the Shadow and Bone tv series then Ben Barnes is just... well hot!)

9. Newest favourite character

Again, I can’t just give one answer because characters become favourites for different reasons! (Technically newest would be Cyril and Aristide though)

Cyril DePaul and Artistide Makricosta from Lara Elena Donnelly’s Amberlough Dossier - I can’t accurately describe why I love these two, especially as I’m trying to avoid spoilers, you need to read the book. However, they are truly FABULOUS both together and separately. I’m so invested in them at this point it’s bordering on an obsession. They’re the reason you read these books, and Aristide in particular carries the whole show with his unique blend of vulnarbility, strength, and sass.

Brutha from Terry Pratchett’s Small Gods - Brutha is a character who crept up on me... I started out feeling indifferent about him, but as we saw his unfailing constancy in core personality I came to love Brutha. He went through so much character development and realisation, but he never really changed? To the end he was just Brutha - simple, honest, faithful, and truly good. In the space of a single book Pratchett made me love Brutha as much as I do Death, Granny Weatherwax, and Sam Vimes (who have huge roles to play in Discworld!) The last scene in this book just took my breath away and made me realise just how good Brutha’s character had been. He’s seriously rivalling some of the best written character in the series and I’ve never felt this way about Pratchett’s standalone novels.

10. Book that made you cry

Anne of Green Gables - just one word: Matthew

11. Book that made you happy

How to Marry a Werewolf by Gail Carriger - this is probably my favourite of Carriger’s novellas. and possibly my favourite of her adult novels! I just smiled the whole way through this one, which is exactly what I want from Carriger who is my ultimate comfort read author.

12. Most beautiful book you've bought so far this year (or received)

The Amberlough Dossier by Lara Elena Donnelly - just LOOK at these gorgeous covers! They also really suit the tone of this series - the whole thing is stunning really.

13. What books do you need to read by the end of the year?

What don’t I need to read? A few urgent reads:

A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine

Lord of Emperors by Guy Gavriel Kay

Master of Sorrows by Justin Call

Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo

The Painted Man by Peter V. Brett

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

#mid year book freak out tag #books of 2021 #books #bookish discussion #qeued post #I'm not tagging all of these

4 notes · View notes