#Christmas at the Vintage Bookshop of Memories

[scarfman]

Friends Reunited! Christmas at The Vintage Bookshop of Memories by Elizabeth Holland. A Review.

Friends Reunited! Christmas at The Vintage Bookshop of Memories by Elizabeth Holland. A Review.

We are once again invited into the magical world of the inhabitants of Ivy Hatch, in Elizabeth Holland’s brand-new offering, Christmas at The Vintage Bookshop of Memories. 

Readable as a standalone book or as a follow-up to the excellent The Vintage Bookshop of Memories, this once again is another welcome addition to the romance fiction genre. 

Nonetheless, the characterisation and plot to

[jonathantaylor]

Another book review. I think I should make a playlist or something...

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Pairing: John Wick x fem. Reader

Warnings: so much Angst, mentions of dead spouses

It was almost midnight when you were standing in front of his house.

All of your calls had gone straight to his voicemail and you were worried. Since finding out Helen was sick John had changed. Of course he had. The love of his life was dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

John and you were friends. You had a small vintage bookshop in the city and he offered his book binding services for almost three years for your customers after you talked him into it.

He had a talent to give old used books a new life.

John had introduced you to his wife Hellen almost immediately. She was as perfect as he said (he was always gushing about his talented wife). That didn’t stop you from falling for him though.

If he noticed, he never said anything. You still became friends, which is why you were here in the middle of the night after worrying. Helen had texted you earlier today, telling you about her prognosis.

Take care of him

She had written.

Breathing in deeply you knocked on the door for a solid thirty seconds.

“John I know you’re in there,” you called out, before you knocked again. The light came on and you stopped.

“What are you doing here?” you heard him say behind the door.

“I… Helen texted me. I know…”

The door opened and your heart dropped when you looked up at him. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair frizzy from the amount of times he must have run his hand through it. The look in his eyes made you swallow. He only looked at you before he turned around. You followed him, closing the door behind you. You found him sitting at the kitchen counter, his head hanging low, held up by his hands.

You just watched him before you breathed in deeply and went to the fridge. You felt his eyes follow you, but he didn’t say anything as you searched yourself through the various cabinets before you had everything together and began to make your hot chocolate.

“I know nothing I will say will help you but just know that I’m here for you,” you said as you filled two mugs with hot chocolate.

You carried them and sat down next to him, your eyes landing on the boxes of christmas decoration in the hallway. He turned his head to look at you before he reached for the mug and inhaled the scent of chocolate and cinnamon. You gave him a small smile before you began to drink.

“I don’t know what I’ll do when she’s gone…” he whispered, his voice strained. You closed your eyes, trying to think of what to say.

“I have close to no memories from the first days after my fiance died all those years ago,” you began and John looked at you.

“The only thing I remember is that I was not alone because my mother was there. She didn’t leave my side for a whole month,” you smiled at the memory.

“How did you learn to live with it? She’s not even gone yet and I feel like I’m dying on the inside. Christmas was her favorite time of the year...”

You turned in your seat to look at him and he did the same, drinking the hot chocolate you had made.

“You use the time you have with her to make some memories, John,” you said quietly and he nodded, emptying his mug.

“This is really good,” he nodded towards the mug and you smiled a little.

“Family recipe,” you winked and John chuckled.

“Can you help me put up the Christmas decorations? For Helen?” he asked.

“Absolutely.”

Taglist:

@ladyreapermc / @meetmeinthematinee / @fanficsrusz / @keiva1000 / @eevee-of-rivia / @keanureevesisbae / @breakthenight / @allie1804-fan / @cherry-gemz / @raspberrymama / @k3a-nu / @princesssterek / @thehumanistsdiary / @palaiasaurus64 / @turkish276  / @maciiiofficial / @re-reads / @penwieldingdreamer / @trippedmetaldetector / @babypink224221 / @sharkbait77 / @paintballkid711 / @alexxavicry / @allanawinchester

[theladyofdeath]

You’ve Got to be Knitting Me {Elriel}

I hope you all are enjoying the Christmas season! This little ditty was written alongside @snelbz​. More will come soon. Enjoy the fluff. :) 

Elain Archeron was the type of girl who easily picked up anything new that she tried. Gardening had always come naturally, but when she’d decided to give the piano a try, it had taken a bit of work. After a couple of months however, she was able to play a few songs from memory and was always trying to learn more. She’d done excellent in school and had excelled at the few sports that she’d tried, so when she’d found a pattern for a festive sweater on Etsy, she looked up a YouTube video and bought the supplies she’d needed to make one for Azriel.

He loved handmade gifts — really, he loved everything that she did — and with the familiar triangular pattern from one of his favorite video games, she knew this would be a great surprise. She just didn’t figure knitting would be so damn hard.

She had never cursed so much in her life, had never dropped so many f-bombs to herself in silence as she did when those knitting needles were in her hands.

Even worse, she let out one big curse and an earth-shaking groan when she looked, at last, at her final product.

It definitely looked like a kindergartener had done it.

There weren’t any gaping holes, nothing like that, but it surely wasn’t symmetrical. Nor did it resemble the pattern, whatsoever.

Looking at the clock over her shoulder, she wanted to smack herself for changing Azriel’s gift at the last minute. It was their first Christmas as a couple, though not the first they’d spent together, thanks to the feelings Azriel had finally admitted to the summer before, after years of friendship.

Tonight was the annual Christmas dinner their group of friends had every year, complete with Secret Santa. Everyone agreed that gifts should be handmade this year, and Elain had been lucky enough to draw her boyfriend’s name. She’d been planning to make a scented candle for whoever she drew, but she couldn’t pass up the perfect opportunity when she saw the listing for an instant download of the pattern the evening before. She’d figured it may take a couple hours to get the hang of, but nothing too crazy.

Now, she stood in her bedroom, holding the monstrosity of a sweater — if it could even be called that — and had just enough time to get dressed and leave, even though she’d be late to Cassian’s house where the party was taking place. With a groan, she shoved the garment in a festive gift bag and hurried to her car. 

After convincing herself to start it up, and to back out of her driveway, she was driving, a little too slowly, across town. 

Her phone vibrated on the seat beside her, and she glanced over quickly to see, Just got here. Can’t wait to see you. ;)

Elain sighed, fully aware that it was ridiculously dramatic, and picked up her speed, just a little bit. 

Ten minutes later, she was parking behind Feyre’s little red car, grabbing Azriel’s gift with unnecessary force, and making her way up the walkway.

When she opened the door, she was greeted with an excited round of hellos, then Azriel was smiling and going up to her, planting a kiss on her cheek.

“Since when are you the last one to arrive anywhere?” Nesta asked, in greeting, sipping from her wine glass.

Since I became the world’s worst knitter, she thought to herself. And possibly the world’s worst gift-giver. And girlfriend.

“Ran into some…complications,” she admitted, only willing to give half the truth.

Cassian was trying to subtly look into the gift bag, but the plumes of tissue paper blocked his vision. Elain snatched the bag back and he grinned. “Well, since Lainey was nice enough to finally join us, I’d say it’s time to eat,” Cassian said, rubbing his hands together.

The group made their way into the kitchen, where card tables and chairs were set up in every spare inch of space. They were, of course, covered in linens and tablecloths, courtesy of Nesta, and were set with plates and silverware, ready to feast.

The food was amazing, almost everyone bringing something to contribute to the delicious meal. There was wine and laughter and many, many embarrassing memories from the year before. And once the plates were empty and the tables were cleared, everyone gathered in the living room, ready to exchange presents. They were all lined up on the fireplace, different size boxes and bags, festively decorated and full of surprises.

Save for Elain’s, which she had hidden, tucked behind her legs.

Feyre cleared her throat, and Elain jumped. “What?”

“Your gift,” Feyre said, half a statement, half a question. 

Elain looked down at the bag behind her legs and hesitated. “I…”

Feyre was already grabbing it, though, placing it alongside the others.

Azriel plopped down next to her on the couch, a beer in his hand that had a label of a drunk Santa Claus on it, and tossed his arm around Elain’s shoulder. “You okay? You look nauseous.”

Oh, she was. “I’m good. Ate too much, I think.”

“Me too,” Azriel said, groaning quietly. “I could use a nap.”

Yes, please take a nap until gifts are done and gone. Elain just smiled up at him, pushing her thoughts aside as she leaned into his embrace.

“Alright,” Mor said, clapping her hands, electing herself as the one to hand out gifts, just like she did every single year. She reached for the gifts and Elain found herself half hopeful she’d grab her bag first so she could get the humiliation out of the way.

She didn’t, though, instead picking up a box wrapped in candy cane-covered wrapping paper and adorned with a big, white bow. “Looks like Amren gets to go first this year,” she announced, reading the name on the label and handing the package to her. Amren was grinning like a mad-woman.

She tore into the package and held up a sleek, wooden jewelry box with blood red resin inlaid in the top. Flipping it open and gazing at the velvet interior, she smirked and nodded in approval, looking over at Cassian without even looking at the accompanying card. He was the only one of them capable of crafting such a gift. “It’s perfect, you did good.”

He winked. “I know.”

Nesta rolled her eyes but Amren’s grin only widened as she continued to examine her box while Mor moved on. Feyre’s gift was next, and it was a massive, vintage book on the history of world art, which they all knew came from Nesta’s bookshop. 

“And before you say it’s not homemade,” Nesta began, crossing her arms. “Look beneath the cover.”

Intrigued, Feyre took off the dust cover and her smile grew. The cover was painted with the night sky. And although Nesta was not an artist, whatsoever, that night sky cover on that old book was a thoughtful gift. 

Feyre jumped up and Nesta and gave her sister a hug. “Thank you.”

Nesta just shrugged and took another sip of wine, even though her cheeks turned the softest shade of pink.

And just when Elain thought her gift may have been forgotten, Mor grabbed the bag, read the tag, and passed the bag to Azriel.

With a lifted brow, Azriel set down his glass bottle and took the bag before sitting back down next to Elain, who sunk lower into the couch cushions. He narrowed his eyes at the bag and smirked, glancing over at his girlfriend.

“I saw this bag at your apartment last week, didn't I,” he asked, eyes softening.

To keep from answering, Elain took a drink of her wine and smiled. She could feel her cheeks darkening by the second, and he hadn’t even taken the horrendous gift out of the bag yet.

He pulled the mountains of tissue paper out of the bag, grabbing hold of the contents. He lifted it out of the bag and-.

“What in the name of the seven hells is that?” Cassian asked, staring at the sweater in the Azriel’s hands. They all thought it was a sweater, at least, since it seemed to be made of wool and was distinctly hand made.

It just wasn’t made well.

Azriel slowly looked over to his girlfriend. “You made me a sweater?”

Elain hesitated. “I- Yes- No, no actually, I- I’m just going to take it back now-.”

“Take it back?” Azriel asked, his brows furrowed, clutching the mess of a sweater to his chest. “Why would you take it back?”

Elain was fairly certain her cheeks had never been so red. “It’s not… The best-.”

“Are you kidding me?” Azriel asked, quietly, with the softest of smiles. “Elain, I… I love it.”

“No, you don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “And it’s okay-.”

“I love it,” he repeated, adamantly. 

Without another word, he pulled the loose mess of fabric over his head, which just highlighted the imperfections more, as it stretched out over his broad chest.

After pulling the hem down past the waistline of his jeans - just barely past the waistline of his jeans, which was as far as it would go - he stood up proudly with his hands on his hips. “See? Perfect fit.”

Elain groaned with her face in her hands. “You made your point, Az, you can take it off now.”

“Take it off?” he asked, plopping back down next to her, his arm going around her shoulder as he pulled her in tight to him. “I’m never taking it off.”

“I think it’s cute,” Mor followed.

Elain only groaned, yet again, but then Azriel’s own hands were taking her hands away from her face. Her weary eyes met his, soft and full of complete adoration. 

“I love it,” he whispered. “And I love you for making it for me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she murmured, face blazing. She wasn’t proud of the work she’d done, but she sure as hell was proud of the smile it put on his face. And seeing that was gift enough.

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Just for fun, I decided to add a table of contents now that I have everything fully copied over, and. Dude. My ToC alone is 7 pages

I’ll post it below the cut to give you guys a lil sneak peak about what’s to come ;)

January 2019

Strings of Fate 9

Crimson Peak AU 21

Southern Gothic AU 21

ABO Angst (First Fic) 32

Genie/Demon Slave AU 40

Maker AU 40

Construction AU 41

A/B/O & Teen Parents 42

Nude Modeling/College AU 44

Vampire Academy AU 45

Gym AU W/Emily 47

Mitch/Peter Canon Meta 57

Panther AU 59

Stiles/Mitch/Peter Void AU 69

Drifter/Amnesia AU 70

Point Break AU 71

A/B/O Spy AU 72

Single Dad AU W/Amelia 74

Siren Highschool AU 77

Werewolf AU (Mitch Goes Missing) 79

Mob/Panther AU (Peter/Mitch) 81

Criminal Minds AU 83

February 2019 83

Reincarnation AU (Stiles/Peter/Mitch) 83

Exorcism AU 85

Dorian Gray AU 87

Mini AUs (Mitch/Derek) 91

Priest AU (Steter) 93

Siren/Selkie AU 95

Angsty Band AU 96

Babysitter AU 97

Stiles Gets Sick 98

Runaway AU 99

Teen Angst 102

Undead Mitch (Mitch/Peter) 132

Southern Transfer Student AU 133

Professor/Stripper AU 134

Eichen House AU 136

Psychic Mitch AU (Mitch/Peter) 137

ABO Escort AU 138

Faerie Ring AU 140

(Lame) Bartender AU 140

Prohibition AU 141

Time Travel AU 141

Umbrella Academy AU 142

Stripper/Hitman/Runaway AU (Katrina/Mitch/Stiles) 142

Online Relationship AU 145

Mitch/Nogitsune/Stiles AU 145

John Wick AU 148

March 2019 148

Pornstar AU 148

Drifter AU 149

Drifter/Hooker AU (Sterek) 149

Hometown AU 150

Void Stiles AU (Steter) 151

Post-Nogitsune Body Horror AU 152

Country AU 153

Diego/Klaus Meta?? 156

Mitch/Chris Casual Sex AU (Ft. Interdimensional Travel) 158

Equilibrium 158

Survivor’s Guilt 159

Summer Roadtrip AU (Stetopher, Mitch/Katrina) 169

Massage AU 170

Conspiracy Theory AU 173

That Time They (Almost) Fucked* 176 *note for readers, it’s part of the Conspiracy AU

Stardust AU 178

Mitch/John AU 179

1500s(?) AU 181

Mitch Raised Little Brother Stiles (Platonic) 182

Snowed In AU 182

Camboy AU 183

Opposite Time Travel AU 183

Family Fight (Mitch/Peter) 185

Mitch/Void AU 188

Fantasy AU w/Dragons 194

House AU (S. 6 Ep. 4) 195

House AU 2.0 Single Dad w/Sick Daughter 197

Chronicles of Nick AU 198

Game Designer/YouTuber AU 202

April 2019 202

Peter’s Anchor AU 202

Hunter Mitch AU (Mitch/Peter) 203

Eichen AU (Mitch/Peter) 209

Teen Angst But WORSE 210

MMA/UFC AU 214

Restaurant AU 215

House AU 3.0 Stiles Gets Sick 216

Neighbors AU 217

Supernatural AU 219

Magic Mike AU 220

Hunter AU (Mitch/Peter) 221

Misc. AUs 222

- Elemental AU 225

- Angel/Demon AU 225

- Doppelganger AU 225

- Sordid Catholic Happenings AU 226

- Stoner AU 226

- Yogi/Body Builder(?) AU 226

- “I don’t love you” AU 227

- Avian AU 227

- Supernatural Detectives AU 227

- Mini Cyberpunk AU 228

- Domesticated Crptid 229

- Katrina Tops AU 229

- Mitch Being Abused (& Adopted by Hurley) 229

Death AU 230

ReplicantCloud Atlas AU 231

Serial Killer/Psychologist AU 233

DID/Nogitsune AU 234

Chambers AU 236

May 2019 246

Parole AU 246

Talia Takes Peter’s Memories (Meta) 247

Forced to Mate AU 247

What You Sow (ABO) 248

Service Dog AU (Peter/Mitch) 249

Victorian ABO AU 251

Beyond Reasonable Doubt 253

Accidental Puppy Acquisition 254

Mitch/John AU 257

Night Angel AU 257

Trafficking AU 258

Demon/Witch AU (Mitch/Katrina & Stitch) 259

Post-Apoc (Original) 259

Speech Counselor AU (Mitch/Peter) 261

Medieval Cult ABO 262

HS/College AU (Spin the Bottle) 265

Single Dad w/Bailey 266

June 2019 

Roadtrip AU 272

Werewolf War AU (Mitch/Laura, Stiles/Derek) 273

Lake Siren/Monster AU (Original) 275

Neighbors AU (Mitch/Stiles, Allison/Scott) 275

Stardust AU 276

Cyberpunk Post-Apoc AU 277

Highschool ABO 278

Priest/Sinner AU 279

Crossdressing/Historical Convention AU 282

Love Sacrificed AU (Mitch/Stiles/Peter) 284

Fake Dating AU 285

Devil AU 285

YouTuber AU 286

Vintage Porn AU 289

Prohibition Porn AU 289

WW1 Prostitute AU 290

Artillery 290

Stiles Kills Someone 297

Morning After AU 298

Captured By Hunters AU (Mitch/Peter) 299

July 2019 299

Necromancer AU (Stiles/Peter) 299

Rape Recovery (Mitch/Peter) 301

Vampire AU 303

Altar Boy/Sinner AU 304

Emissary Mitch AU 306

Agent Provocateur (Original) 308

Post-Nogitsune Wandering 308

Hippie/Punk AU 309

Mom’s Roadtrip Horror Stories 311

Renaissance AU (Stiles/Peter) 312

Harem AU (Mitch/Peter/Stiles) 312

The Hobbit AU 315

Buzzfeed Unsolved AU 318

Ice Skating AU 319

Non-Serious BDSM 320

August 2019 321

Dad Fic/Child Abuse* (Mitch/Peter) 321 *note for readers, Mitch and Peter aren’t the ones doing the abuse, they adopt the kid being abused and kill their dad. 

Unstable (Stiles/Derek, Mitch/Peter) 328

Christmas AU 334

Hunted 338

GoT Inspired/Birthday Fic 340

AHS: Coven AU 342

Stiles Kills Donovan 346

Stranger Things AU 349

Allison Angst (Wings of a Butterfly) 352

God/Mortal AU (w/Reincarnation) 353

Crimson Kiss 355

Mitch Saves Peter (Unrequited Love, Peter/Stiles) 356

Jigsaw AU 358

Kid Fic (Inspired by that one PtV Song??) 359

Blood Drive 360

Summer Camp AU 361

Succubus/Cupid AU 364

Human/Sex Demon AU 365

Rescue Me (Mitch Saves Stiles from Rogue Werewolves) 366

September 2019 367

AHS: Murder House AU (Mitch Sees Dead People) 367

Disney Cast Members AU 368

Winter Soldier AU 368

Definitely Not Haunted 369

Elemental AU (inspired by a Steter fic) 369

Fever Dream 370

Halloween Pumpkin Carving (Mitch/Peter) 373

Mitch Raises Cora 373

Naughty Bits 386

Dad Mitch (Not sure which au??) 396

Kill Shot/Strip Club AU 396

Sims AU 397

Mercy 404

Ghosts Katrina & Mitch 410

Musician/Long Distance AU 413

AA Girls/Lydia 416

Marionette Meta (GoT) 417

Cold War AU 419

Unicorn AU 419

Mitch Sleeps With An Informant (Jack Ryan-esque) 420

Vampire AU (Museum Edition) 422

Snowed In AU 423

Medieval Tourney AU (Peter/Chris) 423

October 2019 429

Crown Prince AU (Mitch/Peter) 429

Peter Has A Kink For Being Picked Up 431

Creepy Boarding School AU 431

Damaged Bois 435

Dracula AU (Mitch/Katrina/Stiles) 436

The Last Time 437

Worst Fears AU (Stiles/Peter, inspired by Jae/Allistair) 440

November 2019 444

Eichen House (Political Prisoner Mitch) 444

Dragon AU 444

Transfer Student Mitch Usurps Jackson 446

Locker Room Slut Stiles 447

Petopher AU 447

Rebound 448

Princess and the Pauper AU 467

Rival College Sports Teams AU 481

Teen Dad/Lawyer AU (Mitch/Peter) 482

Childhood Best Friends AU 487

Culinary AU 489

Rival/Married Teachers AU 490

Angel/Demon AU 491

December 2019 492

Christmas Fake Dating/Wedding AU 492

Vikings AU 495

Artist/Muse AU 498

CIA Escort Agency 498

Mitch Can’t Die 499

Hooker Mitch/Act of Treason (?) 500

Long Live the King 500

Mitch Gets Wrecked (Triathlon Aftermath) 504

The Mirror’s Curse (Original) 504

Angel/Reaper AU 505

January 2020 508

Bystander Effect 508

Melting Point 509

Vampire AU "I'll bet you're hungry." 512

Vampire AU - Katrina Turns Mitch 514

Witch/Incubus Bookshop & Sanctuary AU 517

Cottagecore Wish Fulfillment (Fae Stiles) 518

Ace Mitch 520

Monster Menagerie 521

Vampire Venom Black Market 523

Florist/Tattoo Artist 524

Gentle Angst AUs 524

Counselor/Praise Kink 526

Hanahaki AU 527

There is something bitterly funny about the last idea I told my ex about, being a Hanahaki AU, only for her to break up with me a month later bc I’m aromantic...

When I realized that last night while looking at this, it really made me see hanahaki AUs in a different light lmao. Maybe there’s a reason they’ve always been one of my favorite.

If there’s an AU that sparked your interest, feel free to ask me about it! I love talking about my fics : 3

[lady-divine-writes]

Trading Favors

Summary: It starts with a chocolate eclair and ends with angel and demon trading favors back and forth while Crowley tries to figure out what he could offer that would be worth his angel making love to him. (2110 words)

Notes: Written to include @drawlight's '31 Days of Ineffables' prompt 'caroling', along with a few others. No sexual content - just a lot of warm fuzzies and some dancing at the end :)

Read on AO3.

“Goodness gracious I would give my left arm for a chocolate éclair!” Aziraphale sighs, his cheek meeting his palm when he props his elbow on his desk, the rest of his body sinking so completely into the gesture he looks nearly boneless.

“Isn’t that vivid? You could always miracle yourself one,” Crowley suggests, less than helpfully since he knows how Aziraphale feels about miracled food.

“Yes, but it’s never quite the same.”

“So you keep saying,” Crowley mutters into his partially drunk glass of merlot. He’s only had the one, poured more out of lack of anything better to do than actual want for inebriation.

Crowley’s in a bit of a pickle.

He wants to hang out with Aziraphale. More than anything. That’s why he came over. Doing nothing here in Aziraphale’s bookshop is preferable to doing nothing alone in his dark, empty flat.

But he’s bored.

So bored that the thought of getting up off the sofa he’s planted on and getting his angel an éclair sounds close to a grand adventure. But he can’t make it seem like Aziraphale is the one doing him a favor. He wants something out of it for himself, and an éclair doesn’t appeal to him right now.

Decisions, decisions, decisions …

He takes a sip to deliberate over - a kiss of alcohol against his lips to warm his mouth. It doesn’t quite do the trick since it’s barely a mouthful and he swallows too quickly. He licks his lips at the same time Aziraphale licks his, and smiles when he thinks of something that could warm him better.

“If I went down to the bakery and got one for you, can I have kiss?”

Aziraphale perks up, turning towards his husband and raising intrigued eyebrows. “What kind of kiss?”

Crowley shrugs – a jumble of uncoordinated joints moving independently of their owner. “Just a kiss.”

“Where?”

“Oh … well … I was thinking … on the lips?”

Aziraphale chews on Crowley’s offer while he nibbles his lower lip. He’s not about to say no, of course. A chocolate éclair for the price of a kiss? That’s two treats in one! Only an idiot would turn that down!

But he can’t let it seem like Crowley is doing him that big a favor.

He fakes a yawn while he pretends to think, bouncing his eyebrows nonchalantly.

“All right,” he says. “If it’s not too much trouble, that is.”

“No, no. No trouble at all.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

***

“You know what I could go for right now?”

“Mmm,” Aziraphale hums around a generous bite of light pastry and thick cream, but with the smooth finish of merlot-flavored kisses clinging to his tongue, “what?”

“A glass of Midwinter Nights Dram.”

“Oh my!” Aziraphale chuckles after a swallow. “I haven’t had a glass of that in ages!”

“Yeah. Warmed up on many a cold night with that stuff …” Crowley gazes dreamily up at the vaulted ceilings of the bookshop as though his last memories of throwing back a bottle of Christmas whiskey is floating there amongst the beams. If he had a bottle, he could more than likely persuade Aziraphale to share it with him. Then maybe, just maybe, he could beg another kiss off his husband.

Alcohol on his husband’s breath, he has happily discovered, tastes much better than from the mouth of a bottle.  

Aziraphale chews the end of his éclair, thoughtfully watching his husband go silent, eyelids closed, a peculiar smile bunching his cheeks. “If I happen to have a bottle,” Aziraphale says, “could I bother you to help me with a chore?”

One of Crowley’s eyelids pops open, fast enough to compete with the speed of light. “What chore?”

“Move a few things upstairs?”

Crowley looks disappointed, but not enough to turn Aziraphale down. “How many things?”

“A dozen. Maybe less. But they can’t be miracled upstairs. They’re magic sensitive. They have to be carried.”

Crowley wonders if one of those items could include his angel but decides not to ask. “Sure, all right. If you have it.”

Aziraphale reaches underneath his desk. His hand goes straight for a cabinet by his knee, opens it, and pulls out the exact bottle Crowley was thinking of. Without even shifting his gaze to check, Aziraphale holds the bottle up for Crowley to see, and gives it a teasing shake. “Is this what you were hoping for?”

Crowley grins. He had no doubt Aziraphale had it. If he didn’t, Aziraphale would have miracled it up.

Which puts Crowley in line for another kiss, one that tastes of plum pudding, mulling spices, dried fruit, and vanilla.

But also Principality.

Crowley rises eagerly from the sofa, reaching for the bottle, but Aziraphale pulls it out of reach.

“Work first,” he says, setting the bottle back in its cabinet, impish grin twisting the corner of his mouth. “Drink afterward.”

Crowley, left reaching, his hand still hovering in the air, saunters sideways, eyeballing his flirt of a husband. He flexes his fingers and smacks his lips - his mouth dry, craving a hundred Christmas-flavored kisses. And they wouldn’t need to be on his angel’s lips. Midwinter Nights Dram would go great anywhere – Aziraphale’s shoulders, his spine, the bend of his elbow, the soft skin behind his knee … “I’d better get started.”

***

“Oh blast!” Aziraphale erupts, snapping Crowley out of his mellow dwam supplied by his second glass of whiskey.

“Wot?”

“I was supposed to have this book wrapped up and ready to ship before two!” Aziraphale says, glaring at a leather-bound book resting beneath his right hand as if it’s a rodent he’d killed days before that has somehow returned from the grave.

“And …?”

“It’s 3:15! How in the Hell did I miss the post man?” Aziraphale twists in his chair, looking out the window in search of him, to check if, by any luck, he might still be around. “I’m going to have to run it down to the post office myself!”

“Whatever for?”

“I really need it to go out today!”

Crowley is going to take it for him. He knows he will. It’s the husbandly thing to do.

Still …

He looks at his glass of whiskey and frowns.

He’d gotten the drink he wanted but he’s yet to get another kiss. He thought he might be on the road to getting one. Aziraphale had asked for a glass of whiskey. Things were looking bright.

There it is, on his desk, untouched.

Crowley assumes he’d been reaching for it, which is how he stumbled across the book.

It’s sitting directly in the path his hand was traveling to reach his glass.

Damn!

Crowley doesn’t want to outright ask for another kiss, especially not now. He might end up with a peck on the cheek and no more talk about it. He wants to work up to it, tempt it out of his husband … and possibly a little more.

“If I take care of it, can I get a shoulder rub?” Crowley asks, rolling his right shoulder. “Humpin’ all that stuff upstairs (nngh!) really put a strain on the old muscles.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes but agrees, “Absolutely.”

“A shirtless shoulder rub?”

Aziraphale manages to look unamused and amused at the same time. “You shirtless? Or me shirtless?”

“I’d prefer both of us shirtless, but just me is fine.”

And despite being in front of the eight ball, Aziraphale’s eyes sparkle at the thought. “Then I’d say, in this case, we both get a reward. Chip-chop! Hurry up!”

***

God rest ye merry, gentlemen Let nothing you dismay Remember, Christ, our Saviour Was born on Christmas day To save us all from Satan's power When we were gone astray

“Ugh!” Aziraphale’s head drops to his desk, his forehead making a soft thump when it connects with the wood.

“What?” Crowley asks, lounging on Aziraphale’s sofa with his feet up and his head lolling off the cushions, his manhandled muscles melting into the sumptuous, velvety fabric. His shirt made it back on but barely, the buttons undone down the front, his skin tingling in the winter chill.

“We have carolers!”

“I know!” Crowley groans sympathetically. “And they’re singing the worst Christmas song ever! I wouldn’t say Christ saved the humans from Satan. It was more of a draw.”

“I am not in the mood right now!” Aziraphale snaps into his paperwork.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Not you. Them!”

“Oh.” Immediately seeing an opportunity, Crowley shimmies up on the sofa. “What will you give me if I take care of them for you?”

“What do you want?” Aziraphale moans pathetically.

Crowley leans forward, relaying his request in a husky tone he prays might put him back on track towards seducing his husband. “Dance with me, angel?”

“Yes, all right,” Aziraphale agrees without a single thought, no objection whatsoever, aided by an offensively sour soprano note that might have come about with a hint of demonic assistance. “Just … get rid of them!”

“Will do!” Crowley launches out of his seat and hurries towards the door, but halfway there, he stops. “Promise not to question my methods?”

“Yes, of course. Just … please …”

“On it.”

Aziraphale sighs with relief, lifting his head and straightening the papers on his desk. That’s when he realizes – he sent a demon to get rid of Christmas carolers … and he gave him carte blanche on how to do it! “Wait a minute!” He pushes away from his desk and hops to his feet, following Crowley to the front door. “Hold up! Crowley? What do you intend to …?”

But the familiar growl and shrill screams coming from outside his shop tell him he asked a second too late.

***

At last My love has come along My lonely days are over And life is like a song …

The vintage vinyl spins smoothly under the needle of Aziraphale’s gramophone as he sways slowly with his husband, in the circle of his arms. He inhales deep, his demon smelling bitter and sweet: of cloves and spice, whiskey and wine, cranberry and chestnut, of crisp winter air and the new falling snow from when he stepped out the door and, for a split second, transformed into a monstrous, fire-breathing serpent to clear away the carolers.

Aziraphale didn’t entirely approve of this technique, but he can’t help himself giggling at how a dozen men, women, and children dressed in matching red tartan shirts and wearing wool pompom hats leapt five feet and scattered like mice in a dark room with the lights flicked on. But Aziraphale made sure to bless them as they ran, made certain that little Ryan Weathers would find that bike he wants under his tree, that Molly Stevens would get the game system she asked for (seeing as she was nearly trampled by, of all people, her mum), that Pastor Dorney (the leader of the gang) would find an uptick in attendance at his small church on Christmas morning, along with donations, and on and on. Maybe Aziraphale wasn’t in the mood for carolers at the time, but he can’t blame them for their service. They were only trying to spread Christmas cheer, after all.

Considering the cynical times they live in, it’s truly a noble cause.

Aziraphale hugs his husband tight and Crowley reciprocates. But they’ve been dancing for half an hour and Crowley hasn’t said a word. Aziraphale doesn’t think he feels guilty about what he’s done, but he is curious.

“You sure have gone quiet,” Aziraphale points out, peeking up at his husband, a hair’s breath from his lips. “Still mulling over the frightened faces of those poor carolers you scared down the street?”

“No,” Crowley replies, but a tiny smile slips onto his face. “Well, yes, but … I guess I’m just wondering …”

“Hmm? What?”

“What I have to do to get you to make love to me.”

Aziraphale smiles. “My dear boy. You don’t need to do anything. Just ask.”

“Really?”

“Really. Making love isn’t something you need to trade favors for. It’s something I enjoy. I hope you know that.”

“I do.”

“Good.”

Aziraphale presses a kiss to Crowley’s cheek and rests his head on his husband’s shoulder. They continue to sway, caught in the spell of Etta James’s rich contralto voice, till it hits Crowley that he may not need to do anything, but there still may be something he can do for his enamored angel.

Because he loves him.

“And another éclair?” he asks.

Aziraphale rolls adoring eyes up at his demon. “One for after would be lovely.”

Crowley kisses Aziraphale on the forehead. “I’ve got you covered.”

[cainov]

nonbinary — ever hear people say CAIN ROMANOV looks a lot like BILL SKARSGARD? I think HE/THEY is about 24, so it doesn’t really work. The ANTIQUE BOOKSHOP OWNER has lived in Livingstone for TWENTY-FOUR YEARS. They can be RIGHTEOUS, but they can also be EVASIVE. I think CAIN might be A SHEEP. ( snot goblin. 20. EST. she/they. ) 

hi hello ... decided 2 bring in my son ... my soft boy ... my light ... some of u may know him from watershed but ! here he is again ! forced upon u all. please love him as i’m very fragile. ** i’ve changed parts of his bio so !! if u think u knew all the deetz ,,, but please be warned that it’s PRETTY HEAVY STUFF !!

pleathe LIKE this to PLOT and i promise i will not abandon u all like the other times usfdg

TW: CULT LIFE, HEROIN USAGE / ADDICTION, DRUG ADDICTION / USE / ABUSE, EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, ABUSE, MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES ( PTSD, ANXIETY ). if i forgot anything PLEASE tell me !!

a e s t h e t i c s

dangling limbs from tree branches, yellowed book pages, opened bottles of vintage wine, oversized sweaters and deep under eyes, bleached denim, worn leather gloves, cat hair against black cloth, fields of wheat, broken windows, descending staircases, tight-lipped smiles during public appearances, golden skies, light spilling from windows, stumbling over one’s own words, wire-framed beds, linens, wool scarves, making the wrong decisions; running, from others and yourself.

general information !!

full name: cain alexei romanov

nickname(s): cock and ball torture, N/A

b.o.d. - feb 19th, fuckin pisces

label(s): the fallen, the phoenix, the crestfallen, etc. etc.

height: 6′4″ jfc

hometown: livingstone, VT babey !!

sexuality: bi…? bi. yes. bi.

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biography !!

the eldest to vermont senator vaughn romanov and philanthropist adelaide romanov - they were born into a life of privilege in a very prominent family. they’re the eldest of five. 

with this background in mind - cain was taught to be the perfect citizen, the golden child, the all american ( willfully ignoring the fact that his father came from russian immigrants ) son. they were obedient, always staying within line.

several expectations for them included joining clubs at school such as model UN, debate, DECA, etc., sports (soccer, track, basketball, lacrosse - all throughout the years), student government (class president for at least one year), and maintaining a GPA status valedictorian-worthy.

was made to volunteer on the weekends at homeless shelters and food banks - to show the community how much of a gem he was, a darling - a perfect member of society.

his eagerness to impress pleased his parents and thus, he never had a problem with them. life was good for them. they attended church on sundays, sometimes wednesdays, did everything as a family. dinners and christmas photoshoots and new years eve parties, easter egg hunts and family reunions.

lived northside, not on the beach but close enough to it - a big fancy, seven bedroom, eight bath, two fireplaces and an expansive dining room - no pool, but a sturdy treehouse made by scratch.

his ~model citizen~ persona was just that - a persona, a charade. in the community and his family, cain was a hardworking citizen who upheld standards to follow. to classmates - from elementary school all the way to college - cain was the worst.

they were arrogant, harrowing, an outright bully who tore down others when he felt like it, often unprovoked - they were the senator’s son, and  a rich one at that - rules never applied to him because of his father and their family’s presence in the community. tattlers faced more consequences than cain ever did.

was the sort of person who’d genuinely look down at somebody if they had less than him. a narcissistic dickhead who cared about two or three people, tops, outside of his family. he was never physically violent, nor did he raise his voice - but that was what’s made it worse. cain spewed his classist bullshit with ease.

his best friends since childhood have been brooks hunter and michael green - a very troublesome trio based on their mutual love for power highs.

only redeeming quality back then was probably their protectiveness over his siblings - wasn’t the best person, but family was family.

went into political science + business to please their father, mainly - everything they’d been taught growing up was essentially to build them into a perfect little presidential candidate.

probably joined a frat though didn’t participate in parties too often - known for keeping his composition even when others resorted to violence, because he never liked to leave a bad press image. this attitude was the same when it came to parties and other ... taboo subjects,

sometime during college, two important things happened.

the first one was that he became a middleman / broker / whatever you’d like to call it. wasn’t producing product, but wasn’t dealing it. was the middleman, the connection between producers and dealers. it was for fun - never for profit. very hush-hush.

the second is that he met earl and may meyers. they were fellow volunteers at a thanksgiving food drive, and the older couple were immediately drawn to cain  - and him to them, essentially. to this day he can’t tell you what about them had been so appealing. just, the air around them was something else entirely. some would probably call it unhinged, some would call it comforting. they were kind folks, very down to earth, very religious and warmhearted. they liked his name being cain a whole lot; told him that he reminded him of their late son.

it was the beginning of his senior year in college for cain - a few years after he’d gotten started in the drug business - the couple volunteered more and more at the same places that cain would, the same times, almost as if they were learning his schedule. in retrospect, it was odd, but cain had never thought to suspect the elderly of anything ... deceiving. kept talking to them and it became a genuine friendship.

a few months into it, the couple started talking about the sin of wealth - god choosing only a select few when he cleanses the earth - only the worthiest souls - eventually they’d gotten into the rhythm of claiming cain was special. they could see he would be selected - see it in his aura, in their dreams - god personally speaking to to them, etc. etc.

it was ... oddly appealing to cain - like, maybe i am being constrained by capitalism and disappointing god - even though it had felt nearly ridiculous - it seeped into his mind.

this was essentially the result of emotional manipulation over a period of time - cain unsuspecting, unwilling to believe that he could be manipulated - always so sure in himself.

earl and may told him that they were going to leave livingstone - that there were so many more who had the same ideals as them, that it was time to join them - that it was time to prepare. cain held off from it, at first - having just graduated.

he had so much in livingstone - loyal companions and a close-knit family, a blooming side-business and a long-term girlfriend and an engagement ring burning in his pocket. he was still the same boy - cruel without cause. but he’d found himself surrounded by others, anyway.

within a month of newfound freedom - cain had a change of heart. the third most important event in his life had happened.

it was an average day - june, hot enough that sweat stuck to your skin, but not hot enough that you weren’t glad for it. a family bbq the entire day - relatives from all around - cain had been cleaning up with his mother when, out of nowhere, she had broken down in sobs.

essentially - after a long ... discussion, cain learned that they were not his father’s son.

in a fit of petty anger towards the beginning of their marriage, adelaide had cheated on vaughn. the result was cain.

it was the sort of news that breaks a person. his entire life - he idolized his parents, done everything they’d ever expect of him - let them mold him into whatever they pleased. to find out that his mother - a woman who, he had previously believed, could never tell a lie in her life - was a liar, and that his father - the man he looked up to most as a child - didn’t share the same blood as him.

cain unraveled. that week. several altercations, both sober and drunk - landing in county jail overnight - only to disappear without notice on june 21st, 2018.

it was treated as a missing persons’ case, the first week or so - until it had been determined that cain left on his own accord, then it was dropped much to the dismay of his family.

BEGINNING OF CULT / DRUG / MOST OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS

only earl and may knew where cain went - because they had left together, cain’s last minute decision. cain’s mistake. the fourth most important thing to happen to him.

only hours away from livingstone - on the border between new york and vermont and not nearly far away as cain would had liked - was the cult’s location. they wore white linens and cotton - never mixed, and technology had been abandoned. prayers and daily chores.

it felt ... natural, at first - for the first three months - it was grand, in the beginning, peaceful, mind-clearing. they treated him differently - as if he were something special, as if his birth was a gift - a sign from the heavens above. cain come to undo his past’s damage. a leader, perhaps. the longer he stayed - the more apparent it became that he wasn’t who they had long waited for.

once they began slipping up - the members became displeased with him and punishments occurred - sometimes once a week, sometimes multiple. the memories are suppressed, for the most part - but they can’t forget the hands. pulling, and tugging, and gripping, and begging - asking him to repent, please, repent - head held underwater, counting seconds until his vision goes out - pulled out gasping and sobbing. it repeats in their mind - each day blurring into one another.

once he started reacting violently - they found ways to subdue him.

heroin intake - little by little, everyday - enough to leave him in a high he wouldn’t remember - enough to burn a hole through his memory.

with memories becoming dimmer each day - cain managed to sneak paper and pencil into his ~living arrangement~ and he wrote everyday - wrote as much as he could remember about livingstone, about his family, about his life before. sometimes he couldn’t remember what he’d written previously.

when these were found - it had been the final straw. they had dragged him, kicking and screaming and mind-numbingly high into place - a twisted reenactment / retelling of the mark of cain and a brand of the mark burnt permanently into his skin right above his heart - forehead not an option due to difficulties fully subduing cain (he bit them).

left to die in the middle of woods afterwards, with nothing but his writing and the clothes on his back - cain shouldn’t had had the strength to go on - but they did. they didn’t know what day it was - really, what year it was - but cain got up and cain ran. and cain, obviously, survived.

it was pure luck that cain had run into a truck driver who wasn’t doubling as a murderer - one who took him to the hospital - who essentially, gave cain another chance to live. cain was found on june 21st, 2019.

END OF CULT / DRUG / MOST OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. STILL MENTIONS OF TRAUMA / MENTAL HEALTH / RECOVERY / ADDICTION BEYOND THIS POINT.

immediately reunited by his family - everything went very fast. he couldn’t recognize his youngest sibling, but couldn’t remember why he’d left in the first place. couldn’t remember the name of his girlfriend, but the color of her hair and the way she smelled.

put into therapy and recovery for their addiction - vaughn romanov makes his announcement that he’s running for the 2020 election the day after cain is found and brought home. they’re not expected to be alright within a few weeks of therapy - but cain feels restrained, in a way - confined to the role he’d always had to play. expected to up, and continue with life as if he hadn’t endured an extremely traumatizing year.

is essentially forced to stay in livingstone for the time being - but cain has taken a few things into his own hands. they’ll go to therapy, work on their recovery - but, having no further interest in what he’d gotten a degree in - has decidedly bought himself an antique bookshop off of the owner looking to retire, and has taken shelter in the apartment above it.

with their four cats, of course. his parents agreed - purely to give him the space to recover whilst keeping him close to them. if only he hadn’t found recovery to be most helpful in the form of pills - his old business now turned into a way for him to get what he believes will make him better.

personality !!

to clarify - cain is no longer the douchebag they once were. kind of .. learned to be a better person with his entire experience - mostly a lot of self-blaming that boils down to karma and deserving what happened to him.

he’d always been a pretty ... quiet, person - even with the massive ego - but now, cain’s ... quieter. kinder, if not a little sarcastic. distant and not much for parties - that never changed - but it’s more of a ... restrictive, distance, than one of comfort.

smokes weed but rarely drinks - as if it’d make a difference with the pills addiction he’s using to battle his heroin one. 

like mentioned - they’ve got four cats. that’s their personality. had two of ‘em before he’d disappeared, and just got the other two probably ... yesterday, tbh. they’re named frank (big chungus when yelled - white and gray), brock (orange. fluffy. stoic. devours food.), shoelace (black-furred and missing an eye), and crunchwrap supreme (crunch for short, calico with bent ears).

probably has photos of their cats in his wallet.

parents help pay for the cost of owning the bookshop - though cain’s expected to fully take on the financial responsibility when he’s ‘well again’.

their memory is fucked. forgets a lot of things - short term, long term, it’s a struggle. managed to keep the notes they used to take back at the cult - so it helps, but not always. forgets dates, faces, names, events. he wakes up sometimes and doesn’t know where they are. 

they don’t sleep a lot, regardless - night terrors came with his trauma, and in an attempt to avoid ‘em, they don’t really ... sleep. only a few hours each night because it gets so bad.

cain suffers from severe touch aversion. skin-to-skin contact of any sort is enough to send them into an intense panic attack. they wear leather gloves more often than not, in an attempt to combat it without hindering them too much. not the biggest fan of body contact in general, even with clothes - but it won’t send him into a panic like bare skin will. makes it obvious from the get-go that he doesn’t like physical contact if somebody gets too close.

also dealing with ptsd and attends therapy every week - therapist recommended he kept writing after looking at his notes - so he does, keeps an entire journal where they write and like ... sketch a little, because it helps them cope. means more to them than it would seem.

they’re pretty blunt. won’t go out of their way to announce that they joined a cult, hence the disappearance - but won’t lie about their disappearance if the topic comes to it. cain doesn’t like delusions, doesn’t like secrets - doesn’t like unnecessary attention, either. 

being said uh ... cain sort of hates the new division ? anything that resembles a cult, he instantly hates. hates the watershed app too.

being in town keeps cain anxious, because they’re aware they’ve wronged a good amount of people - but it’s hard to remember who, and what, and when, and why - and it’s just. an entire ordeal of figuring out how to ... redeem himself to multiple people.

screwed over a lot of people when they left ! from their plugs / customers to their ex-girlfriend who they are, undeniably, still in love with - you can’t forget that feeling - to his friends.

isn’t ... aware that michael is in prison. isn’t aware that kieran is dead. hasn’t been told yet.

is high often ! says it’s just weed but ... it’s not !

hates cars and swimming and crowds - hates feeling trapped and will avoid it when possible. doesn’t want to be seen as unsociable, but it’s difficult.

climbs trees when overwhelmed and needs a space to think - has a tall tree right outside of the window of his apartment, on the side opposite of the street if that makes sense ?? can be found there often. like - won’t leave a conversation to go climbin’ but. y’know.

feels the need to redeem themself to ... everybody, really. wants to avoid conflict and wants to be a better person - they’re trying really hard but not everybody believes them.

really .. wouldn’t be surprised if people from livingstone were suspicious of cain, for whatever reason - they don’t have the best track record anymore !

 they’ve got a stutter that developed as a result of the trauma - their voice is damaged from screaming a lot. working on being less self-conscious about it, thinks there’s more important things to worry about. in general cain looks ... gaunt, too thin, generally unhealthy.

they can still definitely hold a conversation, and like i said they’re pretty…lowkey. soft, sort of. generally a quiet person and while they’re not the most social, they won’t be a direct asshole or anything. likes people! just…has low energy.

goes by he/they, doesn’t really care which one as he alternates pretty frequently.

very happy with being the owner of a bookshop - especially antique. feels more genuine than political science or whatever.

got really into the investigation of the cult he was part of - they got uncovered and arrested due to cain’s escape but there’s still branches out there - you could call him obsessed. willing to stick his nose where he shouldn’t, even though he really ... really shouldn’t.

wanted connections !!

so first and foremost - people who he’s grown up with his entire life. people he’s just. wronged. people who idolized him - people who envied him, who despised him, etc. etc.

would love ! a good amount of antagonistic connections because it fits the bill.

exes he’s dumped, old hookups, ex-friends, people he got into an argument with / fought before he disappeared last year.

ex-gf would be gr8 ! thanks ! will be holding american-idol-esque auditions.

any prominent families in livingstone that his family would know. family friends - family rivals. his siblings.

people he’s trying to redeem himself to - trying to prove his worth, that he’s better now. y’know.

old clients that he left in the dust !

people from his frat - people he used to go to the occasional party with.

people angry at cain, still. just. so mad. pissed completely.

some good ol’ reconnecting / reconciliation plots ! i’m a slut for slowburn friendships. enemies to friends.

people he used 2 bully.

wholesome shit, angst shit. i said slowburns but i love them. friends to enemies. enemies to bigger enemies. anything.

no. hookups. please. only previous encounters. nothing in the present. for obvious reasons.

except MAYBE sexual tension but the kind that hurts. maybe a fun, casual sexting thing. they’ve got needs too.

people who just hate his dad b/c politicians suck !

i imagine a lot of conversations between him n other people start out ... aggressive, because they’re mad at him. :/

people who are soft for them ?? people who are hard on him ?? make his life difficult but also uwu him.

i’ll rly take anything !! just like this so i can slither in !!

[lisel]

czech mischiefs: a lived-in itinirary of three friends traveling through the czech republic.

Once upon a time, around the Christmas season, my two flatmates and I traveled to the Czech Republic. What follows is a chronological retelling of our wanders around Prague and the small town of Cesky Krumlov.

Protagonists: Lise L; Friend L; Friend C; Friend K; Friend A; Friend DK.

day one - night: Departure from Glasgow at around 9pm, arrival in Prague at 11pm. Walk through the city streets to the hostel. Friend L essentially decides she wants to move to Prague. Check in: 12:30am Bedtime: 1-1:30am

day two - day & night: Breakfast at the hostel, Friend C adopts lonely planet guide. Walk around the old town, bit of history on astronomical clock. We take in street architecture. Jewish quarter discovery and emotional synagogue visits.

Coffee in café close to Kafka's house. Lunch at restaurant (pasta, salad, beer);  turned grumpy Czech man into a smiling fellow, all the staff loved us. Castle visit - the Halsburg's have ugly faces, thanks incest. Walk around the park and surrounding area. We feel grateful for our resistance to the rainy weather. Stop at the Concert Hall on our way back to old town, we get student tickets for a quartet. Walk home, we buy bread at the breadshop for that night and the day after. Chaotic grocery shopping, in a tired state + dinner at the hostel. Drink out with local Friend K in cool bar. Walk home at night, feeling peckish we bought a trdelnik - it was not a good one. Bedtime: 1:00-1:30am.

day three - day & night: Breakfast upgrade at the hostel - We Made Our Own And We Are Great At Breakfast Making. Walk around our neighbourhood in search of a café for L, who needs to do work. Visit to a bookshop where I find a children’s book on the city of Prague. L finds plug adaptor in cannabis themed tourist shop. C and I go on our own adventure around the city.

Spotted: old camera shop. Head down to Nové Město, to the Dancing House, through a park. Walk around the river Vltava, we get coffee in little place. Antique & second-hand bookshop visit where we find some great vintage prints and posters. Walk along the other side of the river for a bit, then we cross what we assumed was Charles Bridge but really wasn't. We stumble upon local market by the riverside, we get hot plum juice and buy a good portion of oyster mushrooms in hope of making omelette or open sandwiches that evening.

C and I head further down Nové Město, to the Botanic Gardens of the faculty. We have our pre-packed snacks and lunch on a gardens bench. Lots and lots of laughing, followed by a random but well inspired tram journey back to old town.

Stop at the National Theatre where we meet with L and K. Walk around dyzajn (read: design) market and then to the Christmas market. We take a break at Café Louvre with mulled wine - we taste meat broth. Back to hostel for nap until 7:30pm. Meeting up with Friend A, who drives us to New Town, we have beers. He leaves and we go to another pub. L goes home early, while C and I go on a mini pub crawl. We go to a random queer bar + u sudu. Sunny plays outside a kebab shop on the street, we rejoice. A long talk about everything and anything. Walk home, where L is actually still awake. Bedtime: 2am

day four, day & night: Breakfast at hostel + we pack our things (including mushrooms we still haven't cooked). Book bus tickets to Cesky Krumlov, we head out. Bus at 11am, very comfy, we get free coffee included. L says she feels this trip is helping her take another step past her break up. C looks up our options for hostel and food places. We get to Cesky Krumlov at 1-2pm, hungry. We take in the sights on our way in.

The Best Food Ever at local tavern: traut, fried cauliflower, fried cheese, potato pancakes, potatoes, veggies + kraut, beers, desert. Tavern staff loves us (again, we charm the local czech folks). Muddy walk to hostel, L meets cat and is overwhelmed. Check in at Skippy's hostel (10/10, would recommend). Tea on the terrace by the river.

Down to Cesky Krumlov's centre, for Christmas market and town concert where Skippy plays. We get a proper Trdelnik and mulled wine, we are satisfied. We follow the little theatre procession walking around town, along with children and chinese people. We explore the castle site at night, get nights view on town. Small dinner at a warm vegetarian restaurant. Spanish people have dinner next to us and wonder where the meaty menu went. In the restaurant, C's alarm goes off endlessly and we only realise it's hers after 15 min. We go back to the hostel, knackered, and fall asleep extra early.

day five - day & night: We wake up hungry but rested. We drink a great coffee by co-hostess Walk to town centre, L says bye to the cat. We have breakfast at the Egon Shiele Cafe - it looks retro and cool. The museum is closed, C is a bit disappointed. Walk around castle area from another part as the night before. L falls in stairs of old street. It hurts.

I buy wooden train for my niece in little boutique around the castle. We get back to the hostel to pick up our things and take a rushed walk to the bus station, which ends under a light snow. We get to the bus and leave 2 min after. Get back to Prague at around 5:30pm.

We take an illegally free tram to a new hostel in Holešovice. We get there later than we had hoped, but the place looks stunning. We change and put away our things, then head straight out. We have twenty minutes to eat and then head to concert hall for the quartet. We find best place for tartines. So cheap and so good (ed. unfortunately this particular establishment is not listed online, but from memory it is situated at this street corner) Then, we take yet another illegal tram to the Concert Hall. For full disclosure, I do not endorse this kind of behaviour and do not recommend as the public transport police is scary in Prague. We make a run for the theatre and again get there a minute before the show starts, K is there already. The venue is gorgeous, we make a Czech woman smile. Walk from concert hall to bar; K takes us on a spontaneous Places Where She Peed in Prague tour (highlight - the actual Charles Bridge); also a notable place - the park where all her boyfriends dump her (ed: K now dates girls and no longer gets dumped).

At tavern - Friend DK joins us for beers! Old Czech politician is present, he turned 82 a couple days before. He looks it. We have wine, and beer, and absinth. DK leaves before absinth, it's a good thing. Drunk walk home. Takes us an hour. Bedtime: 2am. We still haven't cooked the oyster mushrooms.

day six - day & night: Breakfast at 9:30 in café not far from hostel (a hungover meal of sorts. Ish.) We hit a couple of second-hand shops, then we head to the Contemporary Art Museum in Holešovice. L goes to meet some friends, C and I go for coffee, for what we will now start naming L and C's café crawl. We stay in the neighbourhood with the vague goal to find a present for L's secret santa at last and go out in search of a market.

We go charity shopping - I get a dress and a top, C gets a jumper and acne skinny jeans in her size that L will later die of jealousy for. We walk around just a little bit more, I buy film for my camera, we then stop at a cool art and design bookshop. We get free posters. We get a cheap lunch in hip café. Soup + tortilla. C books a chaotic Blablacar for that very night. Then, we make another stop in a bakery for desert and coffee. C has the pastry of a life time. I am over the moon about coffee.

We finally head to the market, walking. The market is dead. We start feeling the urgency of the ‘present’ situation (see what I did there). C and I comb the area around our hostel for present ideas. We walk through the most classically 2019, multipurpose, uberhip space to exist. To no one’s surprise, we find nothing there of our liking. Finally, we find a bookshop/café/wine place in the middle of a square, our heaven. We get cookbook for L + a pin of the Dancing House back at the hostel.

At the hostel, we meet L, buy stuff at the express supermarket and make dinner with the oyster mushrooms, at last. We exchange secret santa gifts, C heads to her blablacar. L and I have a quiet night in, me packing for the next day, her sorting out her accommodation and plan for next few days as she is staying in Prague after us. Bedtime: too early to matter.

day seven - day: Wake up at 6:30am, departure from hostel at 7am, embarking on quite the transport trail. Get to the airport at 8:15am. Flight to Paris at 9:55am.