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tabbycasto · 3 years

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Nail Tech Talk : Top Tips For Setting Up In An Unconventional Space

Setting up can be a little daunting when you first start out, but it doesn’t take long to start building your collection & creating a space that you're happy with. When I started to set up my treatment room, I began by creating a mood board to figure out the aesthetics & practicality of the room. I love to use Pinterest to get my visual ideas out and have mood boards for things like Storage Ideas, Pedicure Set Up and design inspo.

Once you’ve figured out the style you're after you can start to figure out how to make it come to life. Everything takes time and you’ll find sometimes it’s not until you’ve actively worked in a space that you can truly see what you need to change & adjust to make the space really work best for you. It's a work in progress that grows with you as you develop new skills. Don't feel that everything has to be done at once.

My Treatment Room aesthetic is kitsch, plant adorned & bright. I try to keep things fun, but tidy and cozy for clients. I’m not a "normal salon space", but that’s one of the reasons my clients like to come to me. I don’t try to make the room do something it can’t do, I just work with what I can.

Storage

Storage is really important, especially as it can actually save you time if you keep yourself well organized. I really love easy access storage so that I can grab things quickly and not waste time looking around for products.

Nail Polish/ Gel Polish Storage��

I originally started out with both the long and short Ikea Alex drawers. These are great if you are just starting out and don't have too much product as they provide a lot of storage space, but if you are like me and tend to have a lot of product (I do makeup as well as nails), I’d recommend going for better quality drawers with more side supports than Ikea. My Alex drawers lasted about 3 years before I had to replace them with a similar Tallboy Style Drawer which I found on sale at La Redoute. My advice would be to spend a little extra on furniture if you can so that you don't have to replace it in future.

Ikea Picture Shelves are also a great way to display polish/gel colours on your walls, but they will need dusting regularly which is why I prefer to use the tallboy style drawers. I tend to use the Picture Shelves to create a "gallery wall" where I display framed art and photos, but these would be great for displaying certifications and awards as well.

Glitter/Diamonte/Dried Flower Storage

I invested some time decanting all my glitters, diamantés and dried nail art flowers into clear acrylic lidded jars which sit in clear boxes (labelled on the bottom) so I can showcase colours more easily to clients rather than rummaging through boxes. Clear Acrylic storage is great as you can see when things are running low and need topping up. I tend to separate these into colour sections keeping like colours together. Ebay, Amazon, Hobby Craft & Muji are great for finding these kind of clear acrylic storage solutions.

Wire Storage

I keep wires under control with a wire tidy box also from Ikea to reduce tripping hazards and keep the room looking tidy. As I do a lot of filming in the room, I do have quite a few different wires for various things, anything that doesn't fit into the Ikea Wire Tidy, when not in use, gets stored in Ikea Rattan/Wicker Storage Boxes and slotted away in my Ikea Kallax. I label the different plugs with a Dymo Label Machine so I don't get things confused.

How To Display Your Nail Art Professionally

I love nail art and have a lot of nail tips left over from content creating and old Pop Up Nail Bar menus. I was looking for a way to showcase these to clients and discovered a really cool Nail Art Display Box on Ebay which looks very professional. You can change the display every season or theme each clear pull out frame to your liking. With so many ideas and options available this is a great way to break it down visually for customers. Here is a break down on how to start yours (links to where to find it are in the description box) :

https://youtu.be/F5Yzousncqg

Pedicure Set Up

I recently started offering pedicures again and needed to create a cozy pedicure space that could easily be put away when not in use. As I don’t have laminate flooring, I had a custom size floor matte made to protect my rug and carpet area from splashes and mess by https://www.floormats.co.uk . When not in use, this slots away under a sofa and easily pulls out when I need it again. It's also easy to wipe down and keep disinfected.

Instead of using a storage trolly to display Pedicure Products (as my room is carpeted which wouldn’t be practical), I keep my bottles and sprays on trays on top of a wooden stool. I have 2 different trays which I alternate with the two systems I use, Footlogix & Famous Names Releaf. * Nail techs use my discount code TABBY10 for 10% off these brands and more on the Louella Belle site.

I purchased my concrete pink/white tray to display my Footlogix products from Etsy Seller JustSoDesignbyRachel (https://etsy.me/37c1csl ) who had to adapt when first lockdown hit & set up a shop selling hand made beautiful concrete items. Where I can, I love to shop with and support smaller businesses & fellow nail artists.

To display my Famous Names Releaf I went for a more rustic looking tray from Dunelm which suits the natural ethos of the system : https://www.dunelm.com/product/wooden-tray-craftland-1000167605?defaultSkuId=30696657

For a leg rest/foot rest, I use a foldable stool from Amazon with customised vinyl material that can be disinfected. I found out about the stool from a fellow nail tech on the Footlogix Facebook Group ! The vinyl I reupholstered the stool with came from Etsy Shop HomeTexStudio (https://etsy.me/2JJlRsb). The height is just right for my set up, not for everyone I’m sure , but for the space I work with it’s perfect. Here’s a video of the DIY stool transformation :

https://www.instagram.com/tv/CHGFgx6D6EY/?utm_medium=copy_link

I use Belava Pedi Bowls with recyclable disposable liners for my pedicures as I love glitter & they really go with my room's aesthetic! I think customers also feel much better knowing each time they visit they get a fresh pedi liner. The Belava Glitter bowls do come with a disinfectable insert, but I prefer to use the disposables as I feel it reassures customers that my hygiene standards go above and beyond, especially in these times.

I use an IKEA rattan stool to sit on when doing pedicures and my clients sit on a large sofa chair which allows them to really relax and decompress. After each client, I disinfected the soft furnishing with Sursol Fabric Disinfecting Spray as removing all soft furnishings was not an option for me.

Retail Items

As my set up has less surface space than a traditional salon space, I show off the products I retail on my shorter Ikea Alex Drawers & Ikea Kallax shelves. I try to keep displays and clutter to a minimum as every surface gets wiped down and disinfected before/after each client. In keeping with the aesthetics of my room, I display my products in small wooden boxes and clear acrylic shelves.

The Work Table

My work table is the area of my room that gets the most use. I use it as a work space for not just my nail clients, but also to film and create nail tutorials and content. Unlike many techs, my work table is a little wider than usual which is not for everyone, but works well for me. I have the Ikea Nordan Gateleg Table which has 6 storage drawers down the middle and two sides which can fold down. I use the Clear Ikea Skvallra Desk Protector to keep it free of any accidents and spills. To add a little personality to the space I alternate Paperchase Wrapping Paper which I find very fun and colourful under the Desk Protector, these make great backdrops for nail art photos as well. To get the best out of my nail art photos I use the Ikea Tertial Lamp with a Day Light bulb which I find works well as a work lamp and for photography purposes.

I keep my tools tidy with a custom made Jesmonite tray which I had commissioned by a fellow nail tech ( @bylaurajayne_jesmonitedesigns). It matches my room aesthetic and keeps things nice and tidy when I'm working. I tend to sterilize my tools in my Enbio Auto Clave and then place them on my tray ready for use! If you haven't seen her trays do check them out ! They are the perfect size for nail techs as she makes both rectangle long trays and smaller square trays so there is plenty of room for everything. I think displaying nail tools on the work table like this also gives the tools a bit of respect and helps you to look after them, after all they are probably your most used items and I think it's nice to look after them well so it's just fitting to display them proudly and with a bit of care and thought!

I recently purchased a new hand rest from @gb.wrist.rests. This has been a real game changer as it definitely improves the posture for both myself and my clients when working. Previous to this I had been using an Ikea Wooden laptop holder, which worked well for a couple of years, but over time the disinfectant began to wear down the varnish and I felt it was time to invest in something better. It was also great to support another fellow nail tech who started the GB Wrist Rests business up with her partner during lockdown.

Dust Control

To control dust, I have the Zephyros Dust Collection from Tafs. I find this works really well for keeping the space tidy and protecting mine and my clients lungs. I tend to work more with soak off systems and don't currently e-file so this works well for me. I would recommend getting a more powerful Air Purifier for busier salons working more regularly with enhancements.

Sterilisation

In the corner of my room I store my Enbio S Auto Clave which is used to sterilize tools after they have been washed, then disinfected. I store this on an Ikea Alex Cupboard which doubles up as a storage space for all my cleaning products and spare nail files etc. The Auto Claves are not cheap, but one of the best investments in my Treatment Room. I think customers feel more reassured and I certainly feel better using one. Nail techs can use my code TABBY to get money off their purchases at https://www.enbio.com/uk/

My greatest advice for anyone new to the industry or just starting to set up would be take it a bit at a time. We all have to work within budgets and as you gain clients and get busier you will be able to afford to work your way up towards a space that suits you. I spent many years working as a mobile freelancer before building up a client base that comes to me. It's also worth noting that your own health and client health is so important. Consider the comfort of both of you when creating your space - make sure you are looking after skin and lungs. Protect your hands with gloves when you work to avoid over exposure and make sure you protecting your lungs from dust particles, but most of all have fun creating a space that suits you!

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cialbi · 4 years

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Summertime Happy Daze - Chapter One

Summary: Working in a small, local grocery store down by the shore has its perks; good pay, free food and seven handsome coworkers. Your first day back after two years abroad, your happy summer days have just begun.

Genre: Slice of Life, Friendship, Romance (fluff), Hurt and Comfort, (BTS AU)

Pairings: BTS ot7 x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 8651

Based on TRUE Daily Events

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The faint cry of seagulls could be heard overhead, circling the sky in hunger as you stood lucidly, staring at white twin doors that had paint peeling off with age. The familiar image was comforting in a way, like seeing an old classmate from school that you hadn’t known very well, but brought back those memories of the good old days.

And like seeing an old classmate, a part of you wanted to duck away and avoid them altogether.

You gripped the rim of your oversized sweatshirt for comfort, the brush of your tightly tied ponytail tickling the nape of your neck as it blew against the breeze. The sleek, silver name tag pinned to your clothes sailed in the sunshine. Little beads of sweat had begun to form on your forehead and the sticky summer heat thick against your skin as you drew in a breath.

You checked your watch; it was 11:00 am in the morning.

It had been awhile since you were down at the shore; the heavy scent of ocean prominent in your nose. You wrinkled it in discomfort.

The idea of spending your summer at the beach had been your parents' decision and they had leant you their beach house to use while you were working. Leaving you to your own devices, your mom and dad had chosen to take a much needed vacation to Hawaii. Instead of keeping you company they had retired you to fend for yourself.

Although you understood, you also felt bitter that they up and went without you.

“Structure. Discipline. Self reliance. Think of this as practice for the fall when you go back to school.” Your dad had said.

“We think this is what’s best for you, sweetheart.” Your mom agreed.

You narrowed your eyes at the memory of their words. Yeah, what ‘was best for you’ was to hightail it out of here and retreat to the comfort of your own bedroom. You didn’t bode well in anxious situations and your first reaction had always been to run the opposite direction.

But now that you were standing outside the back of Kim’s Market, that option didn’t seem very plausible. Today was opening day, and you knew as much help as possible was needed.

Almost every summer spent down the shore you’d worked in this little, local market. Since you’d been eighteen to be exact. The pay had been good and the owner allowed his employees to snack on food for free; not to mention the heaps of down time and 5G wifi. You’d done a lot of instagraming in those days.

The last two years were the longest you’d been without paying a visit to Kim’s. Choosing to study abroad, you’d saved money by spending the summers over there instead of returning home to your country. Though every now and then you had found yourself thinking about the little market and wondered how it was doing.

Standing in front of it now felt nostalgic, but you realized that two years was a long time and that many things could have changed while you were gone. And that’s why you found yourself so nervous.

Will they even remember me? You wondered to yourself.

You reached out your hands to touch the chipping wooden door and felt the wrinkles of maturing paint beneath your fingertips.

By they you meant your former, future, coworkers that you spent months of your time with over the past years of your life. Would they be happy to see you? Had they changed at all? Because you knew that you certainly had.

You remembered their faces as clearly as you could see in front of yourself. Their laughter and smiles were an unforgettable memory ingrained in your brain and the special moments you had spent with each of them had been precious. The long hours at work, the trips to the beach to enjoy an afternoon picnic, even the gaps of silence that had dispersed like a welcomed breeze. Every second had been cherished, and the heat of the fierce, beaming sun was always a reminder of the lovely summer days you’d spent together.

Because above having been your coworkers, they had been your friends.

Get a grip. You told yourself. How long you’d been standing there, you couldn’t tell, but by the looks of nosy passerbys it must have been for a while now.

Taking one last, nerve wrecked breath, you pushed open the tall double doors that lead inside to the back office, a blanket of air conditioned cool prickled your face.

It was dimly lit. Only the small rectangular windows that poured in the early afternoon sun provided any sort of light in the small wood paneled room. It looked as if plant life had invaded. Pots of tiny trees and baskets of wild flowers decorated almost every surface. Their gardener had a knack for floral feng-shui.

Said gardener stood behind a marble counter, back slightly bent as he trimmed stocks of parsley with a pair of gardening shears. A happy melody vibrated through his lips as he hummed to himself cheerfully. His deep brown eyes glimmered as if stars swam in them.

He wore a black, deep cut v-neck shirt and airy blue jeans stained with dirt. Glowing brightly in the afternoon glare were the words Kim’s Market plastered across his chest and a little silver tag with the name Hoseok etched into its face.

He looked peaceful, eyes lidded as if he had drifted into his own, little world.

“Hi Hobi.” You piped up, his nickname shy on your tongue.

The man snapped his head of chocolate brown hair up from his ministrations and squinted at you--or maybe he just couldn’t see well without his glasses. Nearsightedness if you recall. Even so, realization seemed to dawn on him as you were greeted with his infamous sunny smile. The perfect ‘welcome back.’

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you.” Hoseok said, then shrugged. “Well, you know, as much as I can see you.”

You shrugged back with a smile. “It’s good to be seen.”

He placed the shears onto the cutting board and approached you with outstretched arms. You thought for a moment he was going to hug you, but instead he placed both hands firmly on your shoulders and held you in place.

“Let me get a good look at you!” He said, eyeing you once over. “Beautiful.”

You blushed, looking down at the ground in hopes that he wouldn’t notice. Beautiful wasn’t the exact words you would have used, feeling a little frumpy in your baggy attire.

“Thanks.”

“So.” Hoseok cocked his head to the side, your eyes meeting. “How was Japan?”

You bit your lip a little and averted your gaze once again to the tiled floor beneath your feet. You knew well that Hoseok could always tell when you were lying. “Good. I had a great time.”

His eyes followed yours, brows furrowed as he aimed a curious look at your face. The older man opened his mouth to say something but before he could utter a word he was sorely interrupted by an outburst from the deli.

“Y/N!” A chorus of voices in assorted octaves shrieked with delight.

Shocked, but happy to be off topic, you turned your head to meet the smiling faces of Jimin and Jungkook. They peered from a little open frame in the wall that doubled as a fissure between the office and the deli.

Jimin’s eyes twinkled in excitement while Jungkook grinned at you from ear to ear, and suddenly you felt your prior worries begin to dissipate. Returning their expressions of friendliness you waved at them with an arm tucked behind your back.

“Hey gu--woah!”

A little yelp escaped your lips as you felt your legs being lifted off the ground.

Arms wrapped around your waist in a tight hug, a mess of shaggy black hair had burrowed in the crook of your neck. “You’re back.” It purred, deep, husky voice muffled by your shoulder.

Knowing exactly who it was before you even saw his face, you giggled, touched.

“Hey Tae. I’m back.”

At the call of his nickname, Taehyung lifted his head and flashed you a smile so winning that you got the idea he didn’t smile like that very often.

“Hi! I missed you!”

A light chuckle from Hoseok tickled your ears as the enthusiastic Taehyung hug-dragged you around into the deli so that the rest of the boys could properly welcome you. After a lingering minute the hold on you dropped, which allowed you to take a gander at your surroundings.

The deli looked pretty much the same, albeit a bit cleaner. It was small--homely--the entire area itself took up only one third of the modestly sized market. The deli case, up front and center, was lined with meats, cheeses, salads, ground hamburger chuck and fresh cut slabs of prime beef, each holding a respective, organized place amongst one another. Three scales were scattered on the top, separated by Hoseok’s potted plants and a few steps away were the rows of slicers that cut the hunks of meat and cheese into cold-cuts.

On the left of the case, pushed snuggly against the wall, was the grinder block. That was where all the chuck for hamburgers were ground into ribbons and panned on trays to be served to customers. Parallel was the butchers block and across from that, way in the back, was the sandwich block followed by the wrapping block and the walk-in fridge.

They were all placed pretty close together and you could recall many collisions from the past as everyone had rushed to deliver their orders. Your heart warmed in remembrance.

“So, whatcha think?” Jungkook’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

He was leaning against a tall metal hand-trolly piled high with boxes of what-nots and arms folded proudly across his chest. You noticed immediately that he was bigger than you remembered. He looked like an adonis from where he stood, his blue-and-white-striped shirt clung to his muscles, almost every ridge and curve visible to the naked eye. He oozed with pride.

You thought Jungkook was inquiring about his muscular metamorphosis or the very least about the deli, but when he gestured to the trolly you frowned.

“Uh. Nice… boxes?” You raised a brow. Jimin chuckled from beside you.

“Not those--well yes those. I’m stocking this year!” He boasted, face lifting in dignity.

You felt Jimin shift. “Yeah! And don’t forget you left me all alone with the registers!” He pouted.

Jungkook’s lip quirked to the side. “You know hyung, you could have joined me if you weren’t so…” He trailed, fishing for the right word. “Weak.”

You thought Jimin would pop what with the way his face puffed, flabbergasted. “I have abs! I can lift things!” He retorted, pulling up his sweater and smacking his toned stomach for emphasis. You looked away in shame.

Someone clicked their tongue from behind the sandwich block. “You’re too short.”

It was Yoongi.

You hadn’t noticed him from his seated position on the floor, but there he was, clad in a grey sweatshirt and backwards cap, knees hugged loosely to his chest as he scrolled through his phone.

“Don’t take his side hyung!” Jimin turned to you with sad, gooey sparkles in his eyes. “You see what happens when you leave? They all bully me.”

You brought to mind how they all had teased Jimin; the poor boy made it far too easy for them. One time, Yoongi had pretended that Jimin was invisible for two days, all the while Jimin had relentlessly thrown himself in front of the older and practically begged to be acknowledged.

“Where’s Jimin? I don’t see him. I hope he’s not dead.” Yoongi had taunted, shielding his eyes as if looking for someone.

Jimin had bit his lip so hard it turned purple. “Stop it hyung! You know I’m right here.”

It wasn’t until you had locked his paycheck in your locker that Yoongi could miraculously see him again.

Before you left, you had been Jimin’s safeguard. You had taken pity on him because he always looked so lost and helpless. The others could easily fend for themselves, but Jimin--with his cute pouty lip and doleful eyes--there was something that had made you highly defensive of him; like a mother protecting her young. And he felt about you like you were his knight in shining armor.

In times like this one, you would have ruffled his hair affectionately or perhaps even went after his offender and gave them a piece of your mind. It had always thrilled him to tears when you stood up for him.

But time had passed and you didn’t know if the same tactics would still apply.

You looked up at Jimin as he hissed at his coworkers like an offended kitten, a look of attack and desperate attempts to sound big. But in the end he was still nothing more than that. A kitten. Although you’d never admit it to him, you were the tiniest bit charmed.

Well, it couldn’t hurt to try?

Tenderly, you patted his glossy head, receiving a startled jump from under your touch.

“Don’t listen to them Jiminnie.” You cooed. “Your job is just as important and neither height nor arm muscles makes you any more or any less of a wonderful, capable man.”

Both Jungkook and Yoongi scoffed.

“And you two!” You swiped a delicate finger between them. “Don’t think that because I’ve been gone for some time, that I won’t hesitate to kick both your asses if I hear you tell him otherwise.”

Jimin beamed at you with crescent moon eyes, catching your hand in his. “She’s really back.” He whispered, just loud enough for only you to hear.

The five of you exchanged looks before Yoongi snorted and the rest of you fell into a gleeful bote of laughter. No. The deli, the market, the atmosphere, it really hadn’t changed much.

But the boys themselves most certainly had.

Yoongi’s hair had gotten longer; crimped seafoam-green bangs touched the tips of his eyelashes and his once sunkissed skin had faded a few shades. His shoulders slouched a little more. He’d always been a quiet man, but something about the way he held himself seemed more aloof and less interested.

Jimin was much skinnier, almost worryingly so. His once pinchable chubby cheeks were replaced with sculpted definition to his jawline and his collarbone protruded amidst his baggy baby-pink sweater. He still had his abs, yes, but when he had previously exposed himself to the group, you had noticed the little lines of ribs poking through his honey-colored skin. Although still painfully pretty, you worried he hadn’t been eating enough.

Jungkook--muscle growth aside--seemed to have grown an entire foot in height. His pointy nose was slightly sunburned and his cappuccino hair swept to the side, streaked with highlights. His former, innocent demeanor now dripped with overconfidence and tenacity; something you instantly knew would be difficult to keep a handle on.

Even Hoseok, sunny, energetic, ever-loving Hoseok had looked uncharacteristically tired. He had tried to hide it, but the lines under his eyes gave him away.

And Taehyung. His lion's mane of wavy hair, his deep chocolate-brown eyes, his obnoxiously good looks--

You eyed the raven-haired boy who had become completely distracted, busily taping a pair of plastic gloves around his wrists and using a bendy-straw to blow them up like balloons. He cooed excitedly and shoved them in your general direction. “Look Y/N! I’m like Baymax!”

He hasn’t changed a bit.

Perhaps it was the many bodies in such a tight space, or perhaps you were just overly perceptive today but it suddenly dawned on you that two other members were missing.

You frowned. “Hey, where’s Namjoon and--”

“Yah! I see goofing off!” A shout that reminded you of a squawking mother emanated from the other side of the deli case.

Ah. There he is.

In unison, you all whirled around to see the store owner, Jin, shouldering a large silver tray of fresh pastries and looking absolutely perfect. His beautiful full lips pulled back in annoyance and his ivory skin tinted pink like blooming roses. He had an evergreen apron tied around his waist and his free hand was placed fiercely on his hip.

“Hyung, look!” Taehyung wiggled his balloon-a-fied hands at Jin. “Y/N is here!”

Jin looked over to you, his expression softening. “Hey there Y/N.” He said, circling around the deli case and placing the tray on the meat-grinder block.

“Hi Jin.” You blushed. His presence had a way of making you flustered.

He patted his floury hands on his apron before extending one towards you. You took it with a hardy handshake, his touch lingered slightly before he pulled it away.

“Are you ready to work hard?” Jin asked, straightening back up.

You eyed your coworkers skeptically. “Yes sir.”

Taehyung was using his balloon-hands to squish Jimin’s face while Jungkook stood by as witness; the three of them bursted into fits of giggles when one of the gloves popped just above Jimin’s nose. Yoongi, who was completely ignoring you guys, had returned to his previous activities, engaged in his phone once again.

Ready to work hard? By the look of it, you didn’t feel like you really had a choice, because no doubt you’d be carrying a lot of the weight.

“Good.” Jin said and took a spatula from one of the magnetic holsters. “Because it seems to me that with these four slack offs--” he gestured with it at the younger men, “--you have your work cut out for you.”

Read my mind.

You hummed in response and watched as Jin began to square off the pastries with the spatula. He looked good--well he had always looked good, but with his delicately placed locks of black hair and eyelashes that casted shadows across cheekbones, the shopkeeper looked particularly angelic as he focused on his work.

“Ooh! Hyung! Is that the crumb cake?” Taehyung’s short attention span was naturally swayed by the sight of food.

He scurried over to the two of you, a look of unadulterated hunger on his face. The rest of the boys, minus Yoongi, followed shortly after him. Taehyung reached for one, the plastic from his glove still deflated around his hand. Jin smacked it away.

“Don’t you dare touch these with your grubby little hands.” The oldest scolded. “These are for the customers. You know, the ones who actually pay for my food.”

Taehyung whimpered, disappointed. “...looks so good though…”

“They most certainly are. Delicious--” His eyes narrowed. “--and for the customers. I don’t want to catch any of you snacking on these today. Anything else, fine. But stay away from the crumb cake.”

A chorus of protest had Jin stabbing the spatula with a particularly strong force.

“I mean it.”

Jimin’s lip jutted and Taehyung leaned against the grinder block back first, angling his face to fix Jin with the perfect puppy-pout. Not that it worked. Jin’s nerves were made of steel.

“Just a little?”

“No.”

“A crumb?”

“No!”

“A lick?”

“Aish! Stop bothering me!”

“Move.” A curt voice cut through the room.

Namjoon, the last missing member of the group, appeared from the inside of the walk-in fridge, holding a large plastic bin with the words ‘cuts to be trimmed’ written on the side in black sharpie.

You all turned to look at the man as he glared intensely at you; the crowd of people in his way. Namjoon’s arms were shaking under the weight of the bin like he was barely keeping it from falling out of his grip. He was flushed, with tiny beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. You gulped as everyone automatically stepped aside and created a path for him. Even Yoongi scooched over on the ground.

Why is he...

You looked at Jimin confused, but the boy just shrugged. “Namjoon is the butcher now.”

Namjoon mumbled something you couldn’t hear as he heaved the bin towards the butcher's block and slammed it down on the counter. His back was turned to you, not having noticed your presence.

The tallest man’s willowy figure had always been lean but, like Jungkook, new muscle definition ripped up his biceps and upper pectorals. On top of that, his once golden skin was now a deep shade of almond and his brown quiff had been replaced with a silver, clean-shaven undercut.

Two years ago, it had been you, Namjoon, Yoongi and Taehyung that worked in the deli, cutting cold-cuts, making sandwiches and helping out around the market whenever time allowed. Jin had been the one in charge of the beef, only temporarily lending the reins when the store got too busy for him to handle it alone. Jin liked control. He especially liked control over their best selling meat, so you wondered how Namjoon had convinced the uptight shopkeeper to let him go full-time.

He looked poised, a little cold.

You hugged your arms sheepishly. “Hi Joon.”

The butcher slipped, eyes wide and clearly not expecting to hear your voice as he caught himself on the butchers block. Giving himself a second to catch his breath, Namjoon turned to look at you with a bewildered expression.

“Y/N...” He said, taking a step towards you.

“Hey, it’s good to see yooooh my god are you ok?”

Your hands flew to your lips in shock as Namjoon’s heel snagged on a piece of plastic--no doubt left on the floor from Taehyung’s glove--and flew to the ground in a tumble of limbs and a loud ‘crash’. You bit back a laugh. There’s that klutziness.

Wincing in pain, Namjoon stood up, his face red with peevery as he steadied himself. “Taehyung!” He growled.

Silence followed.

Taehyung looked at his only remaining balloon-hand then looked back to Namjoon. “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain!?” He cheered, diving for the older with his hands outstretched.

A loud ‘pop’ echoed in his wake. The rest of you exchanged looks of surprise as Namjoon held himself, wielding a long, skinny butcher's knife that extended towards Taehyung’s defending hand. The butcher fixed his eyes on the raven-haired male--who swallowed hard as the tip of the blade barely met his palm--shooting aggressive daggers.

“No.”

More silence.

Jin clapped his hands, breaking the lull. “That’s it! Everyone back to work!”

The shopkeeper shooed you guys away with a flick of his wrist and turned back around to resume cutting the crumb cake. The few “awws” that reverberated from the younger boys' mouths were silenced by the don’t-fuck-with-me look thier boss shot at them.

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Work well underway, the day seemed to slip by pretty slowly. The store was basically empty save a browsing customer here or there.

Jimin had returned to the registers while Jungkook was busy wheeling boxes around and unloading the contents to their respective places. Yoongi remained unbothered on his phone and Taehyung was doodling away with a black deli crayon on a piece of wrapping paper. The only noises that could be heard were the murmurs of Hoseok and Jin from the office and the soft thwacks of Namjoon’s cleaver as he chopped up pieces of meat and dumped them into a vacant bucket.

You sighed to yourself. It’s so quiet...

There were no chairs back in the deli. Jin’s reasoning had been that sitting around made them look lazy, and laziness would repel customers. Nevertheless, none of the boys had any trouble finding ways to look apathetic. So you were leaning against the sandwich block, hands gripped around the wooden sides to support yourself and mind wandering off in boredom.

A little restless, you looked down at Yoongi who was sitting inches from your branched out legs.

“So, Yoongi…” You tried. “How’s business been today?”

Your shift may have started in the early afternoon, but most of, if not all the boys had been here since opening at six. You were privately grateful that you didn’t have to haul ass at bumblefuck am in the morning.

Yoongi looked up at you briefly and you noticed tiny little bags under his eyes. “Slow.”

He had never been much for small talk.

Ennui set in again and you found yourself wishing that you had brought your phone to pass the time. Maybe you’d forgotten on purpose due to your social media sabbatical or maybe you’d truly just forgotten but either way staring at a screen if not just to look at something sounded pretty good. So, to compensate, you settled on looking around the store.

The late afternoon sun had soaked the deli in warm shades of oranges and pinks, the sheets of white menus that hung from the walls glared irredecentaly against the blaring light. The metal of the slicers and the walk-in glinted like precious silver and plastic containers full of lettuce, tomato and onion on the sandwich counter reflected images of your surroundings. You could hear the rolling of pebbles from outside as cars pulled in or drove away from the market and the faint smell of raw beef wafted through your nose. You crinkled it in disagreement.

It was amazing how everything felt so… normal.

Looking at Yoongi’s hunched form, you pushed yourself away from the counter and tentatively took a seat next to him. He didn’t move. A quick peek over his shoulder, you realized he was typing something on a notes app.

“Whatcha writing?”

At that, Yoongi lifted his head and shielded his phone against his chest. You felt a little bad for eavesdropping.

Your eyes met his. The look of genuine interest spread clearly on your face had Yoongi’s lips tugged back in a gentle smirk. He raised his hand to rub the back of his neck and dropped the phone from his chest to expose its contents towards your waiting gaze.

“Lyrics.” He shrugged. “Never know when inspiration will hit you.”

Yoongi had one of those voices that oozed self-control, a voice you couldn’t imagine raised. And the way his eyes glimmered with passion for his art made your heart thrum little pitter-pats against your ribs. I forgot how handsome he is.

“I didn’t know you liked to write music.” You truly hadn’t. He had always been so reserved, even back then.

Yoongi snorted. “Well, my real goals in life are to cut meat and cheese for wealthy, uptight buttfucks. But what can I say? Gotta dream big.”

You laughed. I also forgot how colorful his language could be.

You wanted to ask him more, but a call from the front of the deli had you both snapping your heads towards the order counter.

“Excuse me!” A woman with two chins and sunglasses peered from the other side of the deli case. “Some service over here!”

“Speak of the devil.” You sighed, rolling your eyes in Yoongi’s direction. “Keep writing. I got it.”

A hint of a smile ghosted his lips as you stood up and trotted over to the customer who was tapping her fingers impatiently. You put on your best pseudo grin.

“Sorry for the wait ma’am. What can I get for you?”

She frowned at you--or maybe that was her normal expression. “Yes. Thank you.” Her painted lips sneered. “I’d like a sandwich--”

“Hoagie or Kaiser?” You interrupted. The sandwich bags varied in sizes, so you needed to know which one to write her order on.

“Hoagie.” Her chins wagged as she navigated her eyes to one of the paper menus. “With--”

You scrawled down her elongated list of toppings, checking the right boxes and circling the written words printed neatly on a chosen hoagie bag. The customer paused, opening her mouth as if she wanted to order something else, then promptly closed it.

“That’s all.”

“Alright!” You said with a nod. “That’ll be up in just a couple minutes.”

The customer grumbled something you couldn’t make out but backed away from the counter and went to wait off to the side.

That was the part of the job you hadn’t missed. The entitlement, the poor treatment, the rudeness and you, as an employee, were just supposed to smile and be polite besides yourself.

Walking back to the sandwich block, you slipped past Namjoon, careful so as not to bump him and then clipped the bag on a sleek metal rack. It was your first sandwich of the year and you could feel a twinge of nervousness as your brain tried to remember what to do and what order to do it in.

Yoongi peeked his head up again to watch you quietly, making sure you were ok or if you needed any guidance.

Turkey. Swiss. Lettuce and tomato. A little salt, some hot peppers and onions. Oh and oil. Don’t forget the oil. You recited as you grabbed what you needed from the deli case, hands quivered slightly with nerves. You didn’t want to fuck this up. A part of you wanted to show the boys that you may have been gone a couple years, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t still make a killer sandwich. The whole store knew your sandwich making skills had always been the best and you had a reputation to uphold.

You went over to the slicers and paused briefly, gathering your demeanor before you switched on the blades. Gripping the butt of the cheese you breathed deeply, quiet enough as to not draw attention to yourself.

There was this irrational fear that you had; you even experienced nightmares once or twice because of it. You had always catastrophized that one of these days you’d slice your hand into a thick flap and then have to walk around with your flesh flopping like a turkey’s throat. Shuddering at the thought, you began to slice.

Thankfully, your body memory took over and suddenly you felt yourself falling back into old motions, cutting the cold-cuts with ease and one hundred percent skin-flap free.

With a slight spring to your step, you brushed past Namjoon again, again being careful not to hit him with your butt as you went about your way. You heard an appreciative ‘thunk’ of blade hitting wood.

When all the items were laid out in a neat line, you began to assemble the sandwich, making sure to place each piece of food in the correct order. First meat, then cheese, then veggies and then oil. You never put oil on the bread because the moisture would make the entire sandwich soggy. You explained this to Taehyung and Yoongi once when a customer had come in with a complaint about an ‘inedible sandwich.’ Finishing up your order with a sprinkle of lettuce and a spray of oil you topped it off with a light dusting of sea salt. Perfect.

While you took a step back to admire your handy work, more customers began to line up in front of the deli case. With a low groan, Taehyung paused his doodling to go help them. Yoongi stood up and tucked his phone away in his hoodie.

“Ahem.” Namjoon fixed you with an instructive stare and you chuckled sheepishly.

“Right. Sorry.”

You gathered up the sandwich and brought it to the wrapping block, careful not to spill anything. Quickly and neatly you rolled the paper over it before taping it closed and stuffing it in the bag.

“Here you are.” You beamed at the customer who had ordered from you, handing over your masterpiece.

She didn’t thank you, just grabbed the sandwich and waddled away.

“You’re welcome.” You muttered bitterly, the corner of your lip twitched in contempt.

Bitch.

You were used to ungrateful customers. Most people who came to the shore were wealthy beach house owners--the top one percent--and most of them didn’t appreciate hard work let alone practiced basic manners.

Giving yourself a moment, you checked your watch. It was a little after lunch time, which explained the sudden pickup in business. Usually between 12:30 and 2:00 the market became increasingly busy, then again between 4:30 and 6:00, giving everyone about an hour to catch their breath.

“Already aching to clock out, eh?”

Taehyung came up from behind you, causing you to squeak in surprise. He chuckled deeply in your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

You whipped your head around, blood creeping up your cheeks. “No!”

“Cute. Well here.” He handed you two paper sandwich bags. “This’ll pass the time.”

Taehyung graced you with a little wink and a wave of his hand before walking back up to the front of the deli to take more orders.

Your shoulders slumped as a sigh departed your lips, already missing the freetime.

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Another hour crawled by. Not a moment to relax as the three of you maneuvered through and around the small space, slicing cold-cut after sandwich. You were beginning to lose your bearings as the line never seemed to end.

“Coming through!”

“On your left. No. Left Taehyung.”

“Behind you hyung!”

“Knife!”

Every once in a while, Namjoon paused from his ministries to help out when the three of you had your hands full. He worked like a pro and made everything seem so effortless. You’d never felt more beholden.

Once the line cleared and the four of you had a moment to yourselves, you breathed a sigh of relief. It truly felt good to be up on your feet again, but damn, dealing with so many people in such a short amount of time really weighed on your introverted personality. Running a hand through your hair, you looked at the clock on the deli phone.

Only four hours left to go.

Phew. Ok. You can do this Y/N.

A slew of giggles erupted from the deli case and you turned your head to see a dwindling customer bent over the counter and chatting animatedly with Taehyung. By the way she twirled her hair and fluttered her lashes you could immediately tell she was flirting. And honestly, you couldn’t blame her. Customers had often flirted with the boys and every time it was a reminder of how seriously handsome each of them were. You frowned.

She was beautiful. A very tall, very blonde woman with a modelesque physique. Her skin was as fair as a jasmine petal, with perfect blue eyes and a perfect snowy neck. The spaghetti straps of her sundress threatened to slip down her tiny, pointed shoulders and you noticed her arms were crossed around her chest, emphasizing her cleavage.

Laughing at something he said, she reached out to touch Taehyung’s arm, a bold move if you ever saw one. He followed with his eyes to where her hand touched him and slowly backed away. Handing over her order, he fixed her with his boxy smile.

“Bye! Come again soon!” He chirped. Ouch.

The customer obviously didn’t want to leave, but Taehyung had already turned his back towards her, clearly ending the conversation. Her pretty, glossed lips bent down in a grimace and reluctantly she sulked off. The raven haired boy caught your stare, his eyes flying up to the sky as he shrugged. You made a gagging motion with your finger and then the two of you laughed.

Yoongi shuffled over, a tired expression creased on his face as he dipped back down to the floor, back flush against the cool metal of the walk-in. His cheeks were rosy from all the exertion and eyes heavy as he sighed. Taking one last look up front as to make sure no other customers were around, he fished for the phone in his pocket and returned to typing fervidly.

“How ya holding up?” You said to him.

“Hm.”

Man, he’s a tough one to crack.

A few moments passed in silence. You enjoyed the cool breeze of the air conditioning, eyes hooded as it satiated your skin. It felt peaceful to be among friends again.

A subtle thunk grabbed you from your stupor.

“Oof. Watch it!” Yoongi jerked forward as the door of the walk-in pushed open from behind him.

Namjoon emerged from the door with a large rack of ribs cradled on his shoulder. He looked between the two of you and quickly apologized to his friend.

“The door knob is a little loose inside, so be careful not to pull it too hard.” He said, gesturing with his chin to the fridge.

You nodded your head and Yoongi hummed in admission, though if he was really listening you couldn’t tell. Doubtful.

“Hey! Which one of you dum-dums keeps forgetting to price the sandwiches!?” Jimin called, face huffy as he poked his head out from behind aisle B.

For some reason, Jin never liked the idea of using up-to-date cash registers, opting for old-fashioned antiques that probably came from the nineteen-thirties. That excluded a barcode scanner, so poor Jimin had to punch in all the item prices by hand. God forbid a customer decided not to buy something because then the boy had to zero out the register and start all over again.

“I had to make the prices up, and you know Jin hyung hates when I do that!” Jimin stomped over in a flurry of dust and dirt from unswept floors. Speaking of things Jin hated.

Your eyes widened. Horrified, you realized it had been you. You totally forgot you had to hand write the prices of the sandwiches along with the orders.

The rest of the members started to busy themselves, avoiding Jimin’s wrath. Taehyung began opening boxes of pickle jars from underneath the counters and Namjoon got to work on prepping the bonesaw for the ribs. To your surprise, even Yoongi stood up and began to clean the counter with a metal scraper. It was like they all turned their heads and whistled evadingly.

You sighed, wiping the bridge of your nose. Honesty was the best approach.

“Sorry Jimin! It was me.” You admitted to the blonde haired boy.

He craned his neck to look at you standing in the back behind Namjoon. For a split second you worried he would tell you off.

Instead, Jimin flashed you a radiant smile. “No worries Y/N. It’s only your first day back--”

“It’s all our first day back.” Yoongi muttered lowly.

“--so it must be hard to remember everything all at once.” He finished, shooting a glare at the sea-green head on the floor.

“Thanks… I’ll try to remember to write them down next time.” You said, heat rising to your cheeks. How embarrassing.

“No problem, love.”

Taehyung scoffed, folding the emptied box in his arms. “It was a problem last year when I forgot that one time to price a ham sandwich. One time.”

Jimin pursed his luscious lips. “That’s because you’re always doing something you’re not supposed to be.”

Taehyung threw up his hands in mock frustration. “Sue me!”

“Ironic that this is coming from the person who’s supposed to be behind the register.” Yoongi said, reminding his younger that in that moment, he’s the one doing something he’s not supposed to be.

Jimin ignored the remark and sauntered over to your side. He grabbed your hand between his.

“I’ve been dying to know!” He exclaimed, brown eyes sparkling. “How was Japan?”

From within the room, all ears perked up.

Your face fell a little at the question, not wanting to answer it again. “Oh you know… it was good. A great learning experience.”

He picked up on your bypassed tone. “Oh… did something happen?”

Suddenly, flashes of broken bottles, a messy room and red lights flashed through your head. You took a step away from him.

“No. Nothing at all. Like I said, it was great.” You forced a little smile. “My Japanese is pretty good now.”

As if sensing your troubled thoughts, Jimin hummed in disapproval. His face was tinged with concern as he said “If something happened, you can tell us.” Great. An interrogation session was clearly in the making.

Abruptly, Namjoon turned from the bonesaw and shot Jimin a warning look. “Min, if you have time to chit-chat, you have time to help Jin or Hoseok.”

Jimin made a face. “But I’m talking to Y/N. We have so much to catch up on.”

The butcher's shoulders squared in irritation. Running a hand through his silver locks he stopped what he was doing completely. “Go help your hyungs or go back to the register. There’s too many of us back here and hardly any room.”

“No fair! You guys get to spend all day with her, and I have to sit up front all by myself!”

“Yeah, we’re pretty lucky.” Taehyung waggled his thick brows towards you.

Namjoon pinched his nose and shut his eyes to ease the headache he was getting. “Don’t make me call Jin over here.”

“You’re no fun! I hope you cut your fingers!” Jimin stuck out his tongue. “Seriously, you always cut your fingers. It’s beyond me why Jin hyung trusted you as our butcher” He pointed at the array of band-aids that littered Namjoon’s hands.

“At least I’m helping them out! Someone has to cut the meat around here, and I don’t see you volunteering.”

Jimin turned a little green at the thought. “I’m just saying. Lose a finger and you’ll never be able to properly hold a knife again.”

“Fuck off.”

Jimin’s lip quivered. “When did you become so mean?”

You waved your hands at your two bickering coworkers in an attempt to dissipate the negative aura, wishing someone would come to your rescue. As if on cue, Hoseok’s head appeared through the little aperture between the back office and the deli, arms full of leafy greens.

“Jimin, don’t you have a register to monitor?” He raised an eyebrow.

Jimin bowed his head in defeat, knowing he didn’t stand a chance against the gardener. You felt relief wash over you. “Yes hyung…”

With a quick glance back at you, his little body scuttled away to resume his job. A twang of guilt struck you.

Following suit, you squatted down by the sandwich counter and pulled out rolls of bread from orange crates. You placed them on top of the work surface so that you, Taehyung and Yoongi would be prepared for the next rush of orders. It was a quarter past 3:00.

You thought about Jimin’s question, feeling bad for blowing him off like that. He’d always been so kind to you--warm and welcoming--and right then you felt like a raging bitch.

I wish people would stop asking me that question.

As you were pulling out the last bunches of bread, a blur of ebony and white caught your attention.

“I’m a chef!” Taehyung announced, crouching beside you. Startled, you nearly dropped a sandwich roll.

He adorned the pickle box on his head, indeed looking like he wore a chefs hat made of cardboard. He flashed you a toothy grin.

“The fuck?” Yoongi looked up and sniggered.

Taehyung danced around the deli with the box on his head, not bothering to remove it when the next slew of customers arrived at the counter. He wiggled his hips and sprung about full of energy, causing a mixed reaction from the people up front.

A part of you knew he was trying to cheer you up.

You stifled a snort of amusement. “I wonder about the way your mind works, Tae.”

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Around 3:30, Jin appeared from the office.

“Y/N, can you help me with something?”

You were on the ground with Yoongi, reading over his shoulder as he typed away lyrics passionately on his phone. The market had gone completely quiet, so you had seized the opportunity to bond with him.

Taehyung had gone back to doodling, the cardboard box completely forgotten, and Namjoon disappeared outside about five minutes ago. Probably to smoke.

“Sure.” You said. You stood up and brushed some bread crumbs off your clothes.

“Follow me.”

Jin led you outside past Hoseok’s garden and over to a small freezer-truck parked adjacent to the back of the store. The air looked wavy and greasy as it came up from the ground. The heat hung heavy in the treetops, weighing down the leaves so that the only movement was that of automobiles, pulling out from the parking lot and roaring down the streets. Boiling and humid, it was summer at its most stifling.

Jin took out his keys--no key fob, you noticed, but plenty of keys. Your own keyring had two keys and a fob shaped like a cat. You wondered if your keyring said something about you.

He opened the door. The two of you stepped inside, the plastic flaps of the entryway hitting your face as a waft of cool air pricked the hairs on your skin. There were rows of boxes filled with produce and dairy; a storage unit used for things that weren’t yet needed on the market shelves. Jin stood next to a huddle of large boxes filled to the brim with juicy red strawberries that Hoseok had picked from his garden.

The storekeeper gestured towards them. “I need you to take these strawberries and put them on the top shelf of the walk-in so they can defrost.”

You eyed them closely, wondering why he hadn’t asked Taehyung or Yoongi. They looked pretty weighty but you thought you could handle some considerable lifting.

“Sure. No problem.” You said, bending down to pick one of them up. You were right in your assumptions. They were heavy as fuck.

Jin brushed a perfect strand of ebony hair away from his face, a grateful look graced his delicate features. “Thanks. Hobi has been nagging about it all day.”

“My pleasure.” You smiled.

If you were being completely honest, you’d do practically anything for Jin. Your little crush on your boss was a bit embarrassing, but you’d come to terms with it. Shoulding the box with gusto, you turned to leave.

“Oh, and also.” He stopped you. “I meant to ask. How was Japan?”

You gritted your teeth and swallowed thickly. You hadn’t wanted to lie to Jimin, but you really didn’t want to lie to Jin.

You flashed him a weary smile. “It was awesome.” You fibbed for the third time today.

Jin nodded his head with a knuckle to his chin, less sensitive to your hesitance than Jimin and Hoseok had been. “That’s good to hear. Make any new friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Meet anyone special?”

“No.”

Jin’s expression changed. Was that a look of relief on his face? You blinked, suspicious that your eyes had played a trick on you. You never thought Jin to be the bashful type, but in that moment he looked particularly shy.

Not pressing any further, Jin put a hand on your elbow and stretched his pretty red lips into a soft smile, eyes glittering. “We really missed you.”

Your heart fluttered at his confession, a peaceful feeling returned to your body.

“I really missed you too.” Fucking freudian slip.

The shopkeeper’s face turned pink. Suddenly wanting to look away, you turned your attention back to the boxes and stared. The box already on your shoulder began to falter since you’d been holding its weight for so long.

Jin followed your eyes and sighed. “Thank you so much. I’d have Jungkook do it, but I already have him making runs to the delivery trucks and bringing those boxes around front.” Ah. It’s delivery day. That explained why you hadn’t seen much of the youngest boy.

“It’s not a problem. I’m happy to help.”

Although it’s only filled with strawberries, the pressing weight they provided made you breathe hard as you hauled it through the double doors and back into the market. Hoseok looked up from his office chair, a spread of bundled herbs layed out in front of him.

He waved at you with a bunch of rosemary and chuckled brightly. “Need a hand?”

Not wanting to bother him, you shook your head. “Nope! I got it.”

“You sure? That looks heavy.”

“Don’t worry Hobi! I’m stronger than I look!” You tucked the box in the crook of your neck and flexed your bicep.

He eyed you skeptically but nodded nonetheless, resuming his work.

You heaved yourself back into the deli. Sweat threatened to drip down your face as you walked in on Taehyung holding a circular plastic container filled with a curious, salmon-pink substance. What was that boy up to now?

“So… what, exactly, did you put in it?” Yoongi asked. He was bending over the sandwich block watching Taehyung with sick intrigue.

“Potato salad, egg salad, tuna salad, seafood salad, chicken salad, macaroni salad… all the salads!” Taehyung cheered, then paused. “Except for coleslaw.” He shivered in disgust.

Yoongi sighed nonchalantly. “It’s just gonna taste like mayonnaise.”

The boy simply shrugged, spooning a good amount of the mixture into his mouth and looked on in consideration. You and Yoongi gagged simultaneously.

Both boys' eyes snapped to you as they finally took notice of your struggling form. Yoongi’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. Taehyung put the container down and smiled at you.

“Hey Y/N, need some help?”

You placed the strawberries on the butcher’s block to catch your breath. “Nah. Seriously, I got this. Just gimme a second.”

“I can do it if you want.” Yoongi said, folding his arms over his chest.

Determined to finish the job by yourself, you raised a hand and waved off the offer. “I can do this.”

“Alright, well, I’ll get the door.” He pushed himself off the counter and turned to open the walk-in.

You hummed in appreciation. Lifting the box again, you hauled both it and yourself through the waiting door. A cold breeze coursed beneath your flesh.

Yoongi held it open, watching you with slitted eyes as you stood on your tippy-toes and tried to place the box on the top shelf. It began to wobble in your hands. You grunted, your arms begging to give and you realized too late that you were too short. The box doubled back and suddenly, you felt yourself go with it. Your heart began to hammer in your chest, dread washed over you as you anticipated your fall.

There was a click of the door shutting closed as two hands shot out from behind you and steadied the box, which consecutively steadied you.

“Careful.” Yoongi warned.

Your eyes widened.

He was really close. His hard pectorals pressed up against you and it was then you realized how strong his body was. You could feel his quickened heart thumping, which only aided in the increase of your own pulse. He smelled like mint.

Your ears burned red despite the cold.

Yoongi helped you push the box onto the top shelf, hands enveloping yours. His fingers were long and elegant, a couple silver rings sheathed around them. You noticed lengthy veins that protruded through his skin and you gulped. Even though the box had already been shelved, he didn’t move away.

“Uh. T-thanks.” You stuttered.

“Yup.”

Finally he backed up and removed his hands. You turned around slowly and met his eyes. Yoongi’s face was equally flushed. After a moment of awkward silence, you found your voice again.

“W-we should… uh… head back out. Jin has more boxes that need to be moved.”

He rubbed his neck and averted his gaze, but nodded slowly.

Together, the two of you soundlessly turned to exit the fridge, anxious to get out of the cold. You willed your heart to slow, feeling embarrassed that you let the moment get to you.

You reached out and grabbed the handle.

Whether it was from your spaztic sensitivity or the way your hands shook, Namjoon’s previous warning had escaped you as you pulled it way too hard.

The handle snapped off and fell to the floor with a rambunctious ‘clang.’ For a long moment you just stared at each other.

“Fuck.”

You and Yoongi were undoubtedly trapped inside.

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Next⤏

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rosarenn · 3 years

Text

The Details

What enchants me?

The question feels too big to approach straight on. The answer, I'm sure, is too broad to approach in a single writing session. I'm sure an endless number of things enchant me, and that I will discover and rediscover the details throughout my lifetime.

So the question then is what is one thing that enchants me? What feel approachable to me right now?

Let's imagine an enchanting bedroom. It doesn't need to be mine, and it doesn't need to exist. What are the details that would make a bedroom enchanting to me?

The bed must be in the center of one wall, granting free access from three sides. There must be at least five feet of free space on all three sides, to create a feeling of spaciousness. The mattress must be soft yet firm, lush and comfortable yet still support my body. It must not be so plush that getting in and out is like fighting against quick sand, and it must not be so firm as to leave my hips aching. At least six full sized pillows of varying firmness and thickness must be provided, in addition to as many throw pillows as will reasonably fit on the bed. These must be in a variety of shapes and sizes, and must not be purely decorative, meaning they must be nice to the touch and soft. Cotton or linen sheets must be provided, as well as a feather down comforter. This should be thick and plush, and provide a satisfying weight, yet be lightweight enough to be used even in the middle of summer. It must be a comforter and not a duvet with a separate cover. Pillows and comforter can be white, though colours and prints are also acceptable, but sheets must be a dark, solid colour, such as black or navy. The mattress should be elevated, not so high that it's a struggle for me to get in, but high enough to feel luxurious. It must be either directly against a wall, or if there is a headboard it must be solid - no bars or other shapes that are uncomfortable to sit propped up against. A weighted blanket should also be available. The lighting should be warm and comfortable, and should be dimmable. A directional reading light is a must. A side table must be within easy reach at all times. This must contain a water glass that never empties and always remains at just the right temperature, not too cold and not too hot. The light controls should also be within easy reach from a single place on the bedside table. A Leuchtturm1917 notebook, which never fills up, and a Pentel EnerGel Tradio Pearl 5 mm black pen, which never runs out of ink and is impossible to lose, should always be available. The pen lid either always replaces itself or does not exist, never existed and is unnecessary. A stack of interesting books are also within reach, and I read with the ease, focus, and passion that I did in my childhood. When I snap my fingers the books should read themselves aloud to me so that I can sew or crochet or accomplish some other task while listening. Failing that, someone must be available and happy to read to me.

In the bedroom there is huge bay window with a window seat, padded, as comfortable as the bed and with just as many pillows. Extra blankets are always within reach, as are the contents of the bedside table. Perhaps the bedside table is on wheels. A small tray of snacks appears, with warm croissants (the good kind), salted butter, strawberry rhubarb jelly like my nana used to make (but one of the batches that set properly!), fresh raspberries, green grapes, a few squares of dark dark chocolate. A small bowl of warm water for dipping my fingers, and a cloth napkin, the good kind, the 100% linen kind that really leaves your fingers feeling clean and dry.

There is no TV in this room. My phone does not exist and neither does social media, or at least they are left far behind before entering this room. Cars and planes and trucks and leafblowers and lawnmowers and powertools and anything else I choose are banished from a 1 km radius. The room is maintained at the correct temperature but does not use a noisy central air system. The floor is warmed, perhaps by in-slab heating, so that I don't need to wear socks and my feet don't get cold. When I want some air flow there are windows for a gentle cross breeze. The weather is dry and not humid, the sky is blue and clear with big fluffy white clouds, the kind you can sit and watch for hours as they transform. The day is bright and warm but not too warm (about 26 degrees Celsius is grand) and the nights are cool and crisp but not cold (about 12 degrees is a good low). Somehow I can see both the sunrise and the sunset from the magical picture window.

There is a fireplace, a real wood burning fireplace but with a switch to turn it on and off like a gas fireplace. Failing that little magic trick, someone should tend the fire, and anticipate my needs in the regard. There is also a big bathtub. I want to be able to see both the picture window and the fireplace from the tub, so the tub cannot be confined to the bathroom. It must be deep and wide, with moulded "seats" for comfort. I must be able to lean against the back while the water comes up to my neck. I don't have to fight the buoyancy of the water to remain comfortably in place. There are jets, and they aren't on a timer, they run until I say so. There are bath salts and bath bombs and a thick layer of bubbles that never dissipates before I want it to, and the water always remains the right temperature. There are candles surrounding the tub, and flowers in vases too - red roses, and orchids, and liliacs, and bunches of lily of the valley. I'm surrounded by greenery, vines, ivy. My books are also within reach and waterproof. I can sip sangria and never feel drunk or like I've had too much sugar. The towels are plentiful, plush, and enveloping. They must be the biggest size possible. There is a linen robe waiting for me, white, plush, 3/4 sleeves and the skirt reaching to my lower calves. The robe has a generous overlap, stays in place and does not need adjusting after being tied, and the sash never falls off or gets twisted.

Outside the picture window is a small private courtyard. The double glass doors swings outwards and are framed by sheer curtains, which float in the breeze when the doors are open. The courtyard is surrounded by greenery, likely a hedge, and there is a big old ancient tree and a garden. There's a hammock, and a firepit, and a small creek with a little round bridge over top. There's a little gate in the hedge that leads into the old-growth forest. Wasps do not exist, and neither do biting or swarming flies. Bees don't sting people or fly into their faces. Ants and spiders and flies and moths and mice and squirrels, etc. don't enter homes unless invited, like vampires. The view of the stars at night is incredible; you can see the milky way.

The house has no clocks, no watches, no way to mark the time. Time does not exist here, except as told by the sun and the moon. There is nowhere to be, anyways. We abolished the systems of oppression, exploitation and waged labour long ago, and now everyone has everything they need and we live easeful, joyful lives. Friends and neighbours come to visit, though they never come too early or too late, they never come too often, and they never overstay. I dabble, I create, I write, I forage, I garden, I rest, I play, I dance, I dream.

#bewitched #real life enchantment #practical magic

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foruneyti · 4 years

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A Curse of Frost and Fear (x) Loki x Reader

“I am afraid to admit that there is no one here but us, yet you have nothing to fear from me. I have no ill intentions in mind. Please, don’t be alarmed – I am aware that the vastness of the empty castle can feel more like a prison than any brick cell, and that being away from home, alone and confused, can feel like torture. It is all that I can offer.” Pairing: LokixReader (reader is unnamed, she/her) Rating: Explicit Tags: Beauty and the Beast AU, slow burn, castle life Warnings: Blood, more tags will be added

Chapter 2: Awoken

The dreamless sleep faded, and a headache took its place together with confusion. Was she… was she still alive? Was this what was Beyond? Then the ache began to spread, down her face and neck, to her arms and chest and down her legs to the very tips of her toes - but the worst came when she tried to move: searing hot pain shot through her abdomen and her thigh, where the sword had sliced through her flesh, and she cried out in agony. Everything hurt, but it felt… better, somehow. Not as bad as it had been. And she no longer felt deeply exhausted either – tired, still, but not exhausted. She tried to open her eyes. They were swollen, and her sight was a little blurry at first, with tears gathering in the corners and slipping down her cheeks; yet slowly her vision sharpened and her confusion only grew. Rich green fabric. To the side an ornately carved post, connected to the headboard that was made from the same dark wood. A… canopy bed? Her body then began to make sense of the sensations above and below: thick, warm sheets, a big pillow, and a mattress that was neither too soft nor too rigid. Biting through the pain she slowly pushed herself up on her elbows. Where the fuck was she? And who had brought her here? Why had they saved her, if this wasn’t what Death entailed? It was almost absurd how abundant the room was in every sense. There were pelts at the foot-end of the bed, visibly of fine quality. The night stands had dizzying details carved into the wood, the knobs of the drawers were made of some kind of ivory or bone, and she couldn’t even start to describe the fine craftsmanship in the wooden panelling that covered the bottom part of the walls; leaving the top part for beautiful wallpaper that was occasionally hidden behind masterful paintings and gorgeous tapestries depicting all kinds of sceneries. A rug covered part of the wooden floor, and flames danced in the stone fireplace on which all kinds of expensive-looking trinkets were displayed. She moved with a groan and positioned herself in such a way that her back could lean against the headboard, granting her a better view of the room. Curtains were drawn in front of the windows, but she could tell they must be massive. There was a big writing desk placed against the wall, between two bookcases that stood far taller than she would ever be able to reach, and there were three doors – all closed – of which the double one in the centre of the wall across the bed must be the main entrance to the room. She guessed one of the other two would lead to an ensuite bathroom. She would need to relieve herself soon, if she managed to get herself out of the bed, and she would need to find something to eat, too; her stomach was growling like she hadn’t eaten in days. As she let her eyes wander more she noticed a tray on the low table that stood close to the fireplace, and her eyes widened. It was as if her needs had shaped reality. Fruit – all sorts of them – and bread with seeds and two elegant glass pitchers, one with water and the other with some kind of juice, and next to them a ceramic pot with a lid on it. Would it be soup? Or stew? She didn’t care what it was, as long as it was edible. There were more small containers but her mouth was watering and she could no longer wait. As careful as she could be she pushed her legs off the bed, threw the blanket aside, turned to sit on the edge, and tested the ground beneath her feet. It was then that she noticed she was wearing a nightgown, and her wounds had been bandaged. There was no red staining the quality linen. Surely she had still been bleeding? Then the linen must have been changed... How long had she been unconscious? And who had done all of this? It was a relief to notice that she was still wearing her own underthings; whomever had taken care of her had not invaded her privacy more than necessary. Gods, it must have been quite the work… Well, whomever it was, she would probably meet them soon, and she would thank them for their generosity – but first she would eat, relieve herself, and then clean herself up if she could find water somewhere. Maybe she should save the water from the pitcher. With one hand on the headboard for support and the other on the edge of the mattress she pulled and pushed herself up onto her feet, and though the pain that shot through her body made her see stars, she was determined to get to either the comfortable looking armchair left of the table, or the divan in front of it. Or maybe just the floor, that would be fine too, as long as she could reach the tray. Careful. One step, then another, hand moving to the nightstand, then letting go and standing without support. With her arms slightly spread for balance she made her way over to the low table and sat herself down as slowly as she could so as not to affect the wounds. It wasn’t comfortable, but the food was distraction enough. It almost made her laugh in giddy disbelief when she found out the little tub she had seen contained a beautiful whitish-yellow butter, and the other some kind of fruity preserve. This luxury was beyond anything she had ever seen in her entire life! She barely thought about whether the food might be poisoned or drugged and dug in without restraint. It wouldn’t make sense anyway. Why would they save her only to mess her up again? Unless it was some kind of weird game; you never knew what kind of people were out in the woods. The woods. The people who had been waiting for her. Were they still there? Had they been found, taken captive, killed? Had they continued travelling without her when she hadn’t shown up? Had they been granted the same luxury as her? Were they here, too, but in different rooms? She forced herself to push those questions away. First things first. So once most of the food had been devoured she stood up again and gave the tray one last look. She had left a few things for later. Should she hide it, or take it with her in some kind of makeshift bag? What if someone took it away when she was in the bathroom? She wasn’t willing to risk these priceless gifts vanishing the moment she looked away, like it was magic instead of truly there, and she knew she would probably be hungry again soon. Her body would need a lot to fully heal. After a few more seconds of running through her options she decided to leave the leftovers where they were. Surely her saviours would provide her with more? It was a baseless assumption – for all she knew they could send her on her way the moment she stepped out of this room and consider their hospitality overstayed. She didn’t know how long they had been taking care of her already, after all. Then it was time to decide which door she should go for. The doors were both on the same side of the room, in the wall opposite from the fireplace. They weren’t far apart, with only a dark wooden console table with above it mirror parting them, so opening the wrong one wouldn’t be much of a detour; but it would suck nonetheless. She had drank almost half of the pitcher filled with juice, and her bladder was begging her to be quick. The right one, then. And she was lucky: as she opened the door, white marble flooring greeted her. In the centre of the room stood a bath bigger than she had ever seen one. It was made from the same material, which made it look as if the floor and the bath had been cut from the same piece; and the countertops of the wooden cabinets matched. The bath was full, too, and the water was still warm! When she walked over she found out – rather clumsily – that the thin, three tiered table standing beside the marble tub actually stood on little wheels and could be moved, and if she had put too much pressure on it the colourful glass vials on top would have toppled over at the sudden movement and shattered on the floor. There were bars of soap as well, and a glass jar with some kind of crystals in it. Was she allowed to use all of this? She continued to her destination on the other side of the room first, not bothering to close the curtains to the ceiling-high window on her way there, and sighed in relief when she reached it. The window didn’t offer much of a view anyway because of the weather. She doubted anyone would be able to see her. She stared outside as she answered nature’s call, but the white, thick fog and the icy patterns on the framed glass only told her what she already knew: outside it was yet another cold winter’s day. After cleaning herself carefully yet thoroughly beside the bath – trying to get in had proven to be far too painful - and even taking the liberty of spraying on some perfume it was time to find something proper to wear. Had her caretakers thought of that too? She made her way out of the bathroom and glanced around, but found no sign of any garments having been prepared. Leaving in just her nightgown wasn’t really an option, though… Yet exhaustion then washed over her, and the ache returned. Perhaps it was best if she rested some more before she went exploring in the hopes of finding her saviours. Yeah… resting sounded good. The canopy bed looked beyond alluring and the moment she crawled under its sheets she felt how gravity pulled on her, how the crackling of the fire sung like a lullaby, and how the soft pillows shushed her to sleep.

Read this fic on AO3 and please leave a comment if you liked it! (x)

#a curse of frost and fear #lokixreader #loki/reader #beauty and the beast au #loki fanfiction #chapter 2

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badboysdoitbetter · 5 years

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— typical | sc

pairing: saw paing yoroizuka x reader

fandom: kengan ashura

genre: fluff, crack(ish); lovers!AU

tags/warnings: saw paing being a dumbass, you’re trying your best, like one suggestive comment

word count: 1.0k

synopsis: you love your boyfriend, you do, but sometimes he’s so wreckless you begin to wonder how long you can put up with him...

Saw Paing, while the love of your life, was the most exhausting person in all of Myanmar.

You came to watch a match? “YEAH, BABY!”

You decided to try a new position in bed? “I’M ALL FIRED UP!”

Hell, you put on a dress he thought looked hot on you. “OH MY GOD, WOOHOO!”

The two of you had been together for years, and while you were the perpetually calm, stable one in the relationship, Saw Paing was undoubtedly the fire. Life with him was never boring, and when you got the news that he was participating in the Kengan matches, it got even more interesting.

“Is this seat taken?” Your question was directed at a tan-skinned man, whose eyes were half-lidded. He opened his mouth to reply, but paused as he noticed the clothes your wearing; a traditional Burmese eingyi and htamein.

“No, please go ahead.”

Quietly, you sat down, not taking your eyes off of the match in front of you. In the arena, your boyfriend was screaming, drowning out the sound of the announcer’s voice.

Typical Saw Paing, you smiled to yourself, your eyes filled with pride. “Are you the owner of a company?” Huh?

The brown-eyed man had spoken to you again.

“Oh, no.” Your timidity shined as you stuttered through your answer. In all honesty, you were a little surprised he’d start a conversation with you at all. “Are you a fighter, sir?”

“Yes, under the orders of my leader.” You took in his words while he waited for a reply.

Turning to watch the match that had already started, you whispered to him, not wanting to withdraw your gaze from the fight.

“That’s kind of you.”

“Hm?”

“You’d put your life on the line for your country. It’s a very admirable thing to do—” Glancing at him, your voice went up at the end of your statement, subtly asking him to introduce himself.

“Gaolang Wongsawat, and you?”

“(Y/N) (L/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you.” While you turned your eyes back to the match, Gaolang studied your face.

You were pretty, that much was obvious, with voluminous hair and an award-winning smile, but what he noticed were your eyes.

They were, for lack of a better term, sparkling. Filled with pride, they beamed as you focused solely on the match in front of you. In a sense, he thought, they looked loving. The only thing he couldn’t figure out, despite his above-average ability to observe, was who the love was directed towards.

“You idiot!” Your shouts resonated through the halls, “You’re hurt, Saw Paing! You’re reckless, constantly endangering yourself, with no regard for what the hell it does to other people. You need to go to the hospital.”

“Come on, (Y/N)! It’s no big deal, see—” Wincing, Saw Paing attempted for stand up to prove that he was alright, but as he rose from the floor, all you could hear was the deafening sound of bones cracking, “It’s no big deal.”

“Di-Did all that voluntarily head trauma do something to your brain? No big deal, huh? Well then, I guess it’s ‘no big deal’ that you’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight!”

“But (Y/N)…” Dejection sounded through the quiet hall, “Please?” Sighing, you held your ground.

“Until you go see a doctor, I hope you enjoy sleeping without me.”

Wandering the halls, you aimlessly searched for a place to go, not wanting to go back into yours and Saw Paing’s shared room until you’d cooled off a bit. Looking around, you saw an open set of double doors from the corner of your eye, with the scent of food to follow.

finally, a place to eat! I wonder if they’ll have nangyi thoke or mohinga… Wow, I didn’t even realize how much I missed home—

“Oof,” You involuntarily let out a breath of air as you hit a hard surface in front of you… Albeit, you were pretty confident that walls didn’t have arms to catch you when you fall.

Looking up, brown eyes that had grown familiar stared back at you.

“Gaolang?” He quickly set you back onto your feet.

“Why’re you in such a rush?”

“I-I don’t wanna trouble you…” His brown eyes bore into your own. “Ok, it’s just,” You sighed, composing yourself, “It’s my boyfriend. He keeps hurting himself, and when I try to talk to him about it, he doesn’t even listen! I care about him so much, Gaolang, and I don’t understand how he can’t see it—”

“(Y/N)!” Heaving, you heard someone fall and as you turned around, Saw Paing was getting up off the floor and sprinting towards you as fast as he could manage.

The minute he saw your frame near one of the corner tables in the cafeteria, he was knocking over food trays, tables, and even people.

“Gaolang? What are you—never mind, not important right now. (Y/N), I went to the doctor like you asked… Turns out I have a fractured spine, three broken ribs, a bruised femur, and ADHD, but I went! Will you sleep with me now?”

Mouth gaping, you turned to see Gaolang’s reaction. A look of shock was (rightfully) etched into his face.

Could you have phrased that any worse?

“He’s the boyfriend?” In all the time you’d known him, the way he spoke at that moment was the first time you’d seen Gaolang display any real emotion.

“Hey! What do you mean by that, Gaolang?” Saw Paing pulled you to his side, wrapping his muscular arm around your waist, squeezing it lightly.

“Nothing! It’s just, the two of you are so… different.”

“Hey! You got a problem with that or something?”

“No, Saw Paing, I—”

“(Y/N), let’s get out of here… I’m sleepy.” Not waiting for an answer, he pulled you away, but not before you sent an appreciative smile towards Gaolang, silently thanking him for listening to your rambles.

Typical Saw Paing.

#kengan ashura #kengan omega #kengan ashura imagine #saw paing x reader #saw paing yoroizuka x reader #tumblr #kengan omega imagine #ohma tokita #follow me #anime #manga #xreader #gaolang wongsawat #raian kure #niko tokita

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sinister-bob · 5 years

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Truthfully, each time there is some sort of outbreak (namely from foreign countries because the racism really jumps out), I get irritated. If there’s nothing you can do, have hope, keep clean, and monitor yourself/surroundings. That’s it. That’s all you can do.

I have a chronic illness, and with that comes a compromised immune system, which means that even flu shots are out for me. But for the most part I live like this, since a common cold can lay me low for a month or longer. So it’s more so a drudge, and seeing people panicking like this feels like an overreaction, though if I care to be empathetic enough, I know why. You’re not used to the thought of all this, or the great finality of it all.

It’s going to get better, guys. Just like it always has before. Yes, there are risks, but that’s for the people with the compromised immune systems, IE., people like me, pregnant folk and the elderly. You are going to survive. Remember that.

But, people are scared. Just like they always are. Which makes sense, so okay, you want to be healthy along with your friends, family, and other people. But, in doing so, people are buying out stores, using not really necessary things that are bad for the environment, and buying hand sanitizer, which was found years ago to be BAD on a whole other level because it makes super-bugs that can’t be killed by antibiotics.

There are things, though, that you can get, that you can make, that will work in place of them. All it takes is a little effort, so in the long run, these things will probably be cheaper too.

Wet wipes 2

Disinfectant 2 3

Thieves oil 2 mix it with oil based hand lotion, or a carrier oil, like coconut oil, which is antibacterial in itself.*

Four thieves vinegar 2 3 4 (white vinegar is fine, don’t believe their lies. You can also eat this, unlike the thieves oil.)

Then there are the things you can buy, which are a little off the beaten path, but are still good.

Carbolic soap: It’s antibacterial, kills acne, and is good for open sores.

Coconut oil: As stated above, it has antibacterial properties, and as well is good for open sore. Don’t over do it, though, because it can clog pores. (It’s also good for healing tattoos.)

Honey: it’s antibacterial and antifungal. I once made a mix of this and coconut oil of equal measures, and it’s wonderful for cuts and the like. Honey is also good for getting rid of acne.

Edible plants 2 3 4: Because, oh shit, there’s a lot of them! The ones linked are actually lists that give their properties, but they are all either antibacterial/antiviral. Check to make sure you aren’t actually allergic to anything. You can’t be healthy if you’re dead.

Capsicum: Eat spicy foods. The spice helps your immune system, and helps keep you healthier longer. At least one meal every day. Even if you don’t like spice, start small. Start with paper-thin garlic, and work your way up the peppers, starting at something like an anaheim. It looks like a giant jalapeno, but it is pretty much a green pepper.

*Essential oils: This one is tricky. You have to make sure that you are getting the right ones, and you will have to do some research. They can be harmful to pets, especially small ones like rodent, birds, lizards, ETC. But you have to make sure the ones you’re getting are the antibacterial, antifungal, antiviral ones, like tea tree, eucalyptus, rosemary, cinnamon . . .

Lemon concentrate: Lemon helps boost your immune system, and if you catch anything, it can help you get better quicker. It also helps loosen phlegm stuck to the walls of your lungs. So, if you have asthma or bronchitis besides, this would be a good thing to keep in your fridge.

Ginger: Ginger is like lemon only a 100 times better. It does so much more, like help with blood flow and is an anti inflammatory. Tastes great with lemon and pretty much everything else. Fresh or dried, it doesn’t matter for the most part, but fresh always tastes best.

Turmeric: It’s again anti everything, including anti-inflammatory. Good for both the inside and outside of you.

Then there’s prep.

Soap

Take the carbolic soap, melt it in a double boiler with some water. Once it’s dissolved, you have a choice: either you can make liquid soap, or you can make some small hard ones so you can take it wherever you’re going. If you are making it liquid, you add some more water, and once that is done, you add it to the bottle. If you’re making hard ones, use an ice cube tray or the like. I don’t suggest using a plastic one, because it can melt it as well as the soap scent will linger.

Either way, you can add things to it to either make it pull double duty or to make it stronger. Things you can add?

Baking soda: About a teaspoon per bar. Warning: It foams a lot when you introduce it, so make sure the walls of your pot are high enough to keep it contained. Mine went about twice the volume. It makes it a better cleaner.

coconut oil: About a tablespoon. It retains it’s antibacterial properties.

Honey: About a tablespoon and a half. It makes it lather well. It keeps it’s properties as well.

Essential oil: For the most part, I don’t suggest adding more than 30 drops (a tablespoon). You can do more, I just think you’d be wasting it at that point. This would be a good use for the thieves oil, too.

*Note* Always vent, especially if you have pets or small children.

Antibacterial ETC ETC ETC Hand Lotion

All you need is coconut oil, wax, and your choice of essential oil.

Depending on how hard you want the lotion, I would say about 1/3 wax to 2/3 oil. Use a sliding scale to see where you want it, but remember, you cannot tell when it is in a liquid state. If you are unsure, you have to let it completely cool before checking. To add your essential oil, add it by the drop and stir. You have to experiment, rather than just dumping stuff in. Always add your scent last, otherwise you’ll kill it while smoking yourself out.

As for wax, believe it or not, you can use most anything. I recently made hand lotion with the wax that comes off baby bells. Certain candles work too. You can even use crayons. You dilute them so much, that they don’t really leave a colour on you, but that said, you might want to stick to colours that are complimentary to your skin tone.

You can steep a couple teaspoons of turmeric in the oil while keeping it over a low heat, and you’ll get the added benefit of it. Steep it for about 4-5 minutes. You can later throw the bundle in your bath for your health. *Turmeric can dye things including you, so be careful. I would more so suggest this step for people who have naturally occurring yellow or gold tones in their skin, unless you don’t mind looking like a Simpson.

Honey Lemon Ginger Drink

1/4 c. lemon concentrate

2/3 tsp. powdered ginger

2 tsp. honey

3/4 c. water

Optional: 1/4 c. gin (Decrease water to 1/2 cup)

Add all of the ingredients (except gin) to the pot. Bring to under a boil. Pour into cup and drink when cool enough to handle. Tastes great cold, so you can make it a few days ahead. Strain if you don’t want to contend with the sludge in the bottom.

Sage and Thyme Tea

1/2 tsp. powdered sage

1/8 tsp. powdered thyme

1/8 tsp. cinnamon

1 c. water

prep like regular tea. Let steep for 6-8 minutes. Strain before drinking to get rid of the sludge. Sweeten to taste.

Fermented Milk

Yes, it sounds weird and gross, but it is good for you and boosts your immune system. It doesn’t taste bad. Kind of creamy and nutty.

1 c. warm milk

1/4 tsp. bakers’ yeast

1 tsp. honey or sugar

Combine all ingredients in a jar, shaking until the honey is dissolved. Put the lid on loosely, not even barely closed, so that if you were to tip the jar, the contents would spill out.

Let sit for four hours, checking on it occasionally. Sometimes you need to agitate it a little. Once the time is up, you can drink it. Leave it any longer, and it will turn to alcohol. Don’t drink the dregs.

Wash your hands. It’s a little terrifying that that has to be a reminder, since I got that drilled into my head as a child first from my mother and then by countless kid shows and ASPs. Didn’t that happen with you guys?

20 seconds right?

Have a soliloquy:

Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw.

Have a poem:

Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry?In what distant deeps or skies. Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare seize the fire?And what shoulder, & what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? & what dread feet?

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Make Big Bird proud.

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pakingduck · 5 months

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a-solitary-marshmallow · 4 years

Text

Probably Should Have Seen That Coming

Some cryptic-centric Side shenanigans, featuring Youtuber Roman!

Roman paused in his trekking to fish a pebble from his boot. As stylish as his footwear was, tall and gleaming with shiny buckles, they probably weren’t the best choice for venturing into the forest. But his viewers expected style, as he presented in all his videos, so he happily put up with the occasional annoyance. He recommenced his walk through the trees and lifted his camera up to his shoulder to get a good view of the golden autumn-hued forest around him.

“Goooood morning my lovely viewers! As you can probably tell, today is no makeup tutorial! We’re leaving the mascara at home, because I recently got wind of an exciting new place to explore. That’s right – I’m going on another adventure!” He swung the camera around to wink at the audience. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Roman stepped over a low-lying log and centered the camera on his face before continuing brightly, “As you all know, I’m currently holidaying in this quaint little town, and a few days ago a couple local children told me about a spooky mansion through the forest. Apparently no one goes there, and there’s plenty of ghost stories to go around! I wonder if I’ll find any princely souvenirs.” Roman scanned the horizon ahead, but the regularity of trees and bushes continued on as far as he could see. “So I thought I’d take you all for a little look! I’m heading north-west as we speak, and I should be coming across something… now!”

Nothing ahead. Well, he could edit it. Roman hummed to himself as he traversed piles of orange leaf litter and damp, crumbling logs. The air out here smelled like damp wood and earth after the rain, and Roman inhaled great breaths of it. Maybe it was his romantic side talking, but the air always smelled sweeter out in the countryside. He should holiday more often. It would make for exciting content, too – his viewers deserved only the best.

The ground turned harder under his feet, and Roman paused. He scraped away bits of leaf litter with his boot and found instead of loose earth, the packed dirt of a once-travelled path. His breathing quickened with excitement as he followed the path, occasionally trailing off it and having to find it again, searching through decades old covering of vegetation. His eyes were fixed on the ground, so he didn’t notice the structure looming until he was close enough to see its broken windows, shards of glass hanging from swollen frames like teeth in a broken maw. Roman let out a squeal of excitement and lifted his camera to give a good view of the ancient, sagging mansion.

“There it is! The kids I spoke to called it the Sanders estate. Gosh, it really does look like a ghost house.”

The building sprawled in what had once been a large clearing, now overtaken by trees and bushes and vines that crawled up the walls of the massive mansion. Only a few of the stained-glass windows were still intact – most of the others had cracked or shattered. The huge double doors groaned slightly agape, but there was a heavy chain and lock preventing them from opening fully.

Roman stepped forward, admiring the majesty of what had once been a fabulous structure. Through the vegetation clinging to the low wall around it, he could see hints of patterns in the stone. The windows that remained were stained in all colours in kaleidoscopic patterns that must have painted an inside floor like a rainbow, when the sun was at the right angle. Now it lay empty and alone, silent as the grave and half-swallowed by the forest it resided in.

“Wow.” Roman breathed. “I was half expecting it to be a joke! Come on, let’s go check it out.”

Roman rushed up the path and through the rusted remains of wrought-iron gate that now sagged on their hinges. In this little area that could have been a garden, flowers sprouted from every nook and cranny and littered the area, some almost choked by the approaching forest. Roman spun in a slow circle to take it all in, before inspecting the heavy chains on the door.

“Locked, huh? This is positively ancient. I wonder…” Balancing his camera in one hand, Roman pulled out his Swiss army knife and scraped at the rotted wood around it. It was old and water-logged, and it crumbled apart to reveal – ugh, termites. He brushed away their squirming white bodies and kept patiently working at the door. No wonder it was frail.

After some time, the chains were loose enough for Roman to pull them out of the doors and let them groan open. Light flooded in around his silhouette to pool across a dusty wooden floor, an ancient but expensive-looking antique coat stand and a dim entryway further inside. Roman let out another happy squeal.

“Okay! We stand at the threshold of the unknown. Let’s go make it known!”

He stepped forward onto groaning floors. A glimmer of light caught his eye, and Roman glanced up to where a positively marvelous chandelier dangled overhead – it was dusty and unlit and absolutely covered in spider webs, but even so its delicate metal curves and cut crystals gleamed.

Even more exciting sights waited for Roman the further he explored, using his phone screen for light. He was lucky this camera had a night-vision setting or his viewers would be seeing dark blurs with Roman’s commentary. He passed through a drawing room, a sitting room with rotted couches and silver serving trays bearing dusty glasses – and excitingly, a grand piano resting on a slight stage. Who had played this instrument, decades ago? It was covered in a thick layer of dust now. Roman brushed off the seat before sitting and holding his hands over the keys. Was it still in tune?

He pressed down on a key, and heard nothing. Roman frowned and tried another one. This one made sound, the note reverberating through the old house like birdsong. This place had acoustics, all right. Lifting the top of the piano revealed that the inner workings were all in place, but were half gummed-up with spider web and rot.

“Do you guys wanna hear a song?” Roman questioned his camera. “The ambiance is one-of-a-kind. Hang of a sec, I just have to find something to clean out these cobwebs with. I’m certainly not risking my manicure.”

Hmm, the kitchen aught to contain some tools he could use. From his copious study (binging Downton Abbey) the kitchen was most likely to be downstairs. Roman passed a grand staircase on his little adventure – but there was plenty of time to explore that later. From somewhere behind him there was a jarring bang – the top of the old piano must have fallen down. He hoped nothing was broken. That would really spoil the mood.

Roman finally located the kitchen and began fishing around for a large stick maybe, something lean he could use to get rid of webs.

He found what he was looking for in the form of a mostly-preserved soup ladle hanging up on the wall, and had just grabbed it when he heard a creak from above.

Roman froze.

“Did you guys hear that?” Wait, his viewers couldn’t respond, they hadn’t even seen the video yet. Roman held his breath and listened hard, but the sound didn’t come again, and he let out a sight. “Old houses and their creaks. Okay, back to the piano.”

As Roman crossed the threshold out of the kitchen, a faint tickle touched the top of his head. He reached up and found dust sifting from above him. That was weird. He shrugged it off and hurried back to the sitting room with his prize in hand.

“Okay! Now, let’s make some music.” Roman bounced up to the stage – and that was odd, he could have sworn he’d heard the lid slam shut, but it was still up where he’d left it. Maybe the wind had knocked something else over. Roman placed his camera down on the seat and leaned over to start extracting cobwebs from around the delicate workings of the instrument. A few tiny black spiders scurried away as he worked. He would have thought that they’d scatter, but they crawled over each other in their haste to disappear over the lid of the piano, like a mass of ants with one mission. Roman hummed curiously. He didn’t know that spiders were herd-animals. More dust trickle down and he waved it away from his face as he finished clearing away webs.

“Finally!” Roman sat back on the seat and turned to grin at the camera. “This is a little original piece I’ve been working on.”

He brought his hands down on the keys with a blast of sound, and behind him there was a strangled screech and a thump.

Roman jolted out of his chair. On the opposite side of the room there was a mass, and as he watched it twisted and scrabbled back into the darkness.

“Who’s there?” Roman’s voice crackled with panic. He grabbed his phone and turned its light on the shape, which let out a hiss. There were legs, too many legs, and as Roman stared those legs dug into the wall and the creature blurred up with the clicking of armoured limbs on wood. Roman tried to follow it with his light but it was so fast, scampering across the roof like a demented insect. Roman grabbed his camera and bolted.

He shot from the sitting room and collided with a figure – one that was large and solid and furry, and let out a yowl as Roman slammed into it. He screamed and jolted away, only to trip and hit the floor, camera and phone skittering across the ground. The shape loomed above him – Roman could see glints of teeth, black claws, flattened ears and piercing blue eyes through the darkness. It leaned down towards him and Roman screeched and kicked out wildly, catching something soft. There was a pained yelp. Roman scrambled to his feet and bolted the other way. There was another exit from the sitting room, right? To the kitchen area. Roman gasped for breath as he tore a hallway, rebounding off the wall in his haste to turn a corner. Hissing sounded behind him.

Run. Run. Where was his camera? It didn’t matter, just run. Roman skidded into another room. In the dark, the furniture was too indistinct to identify. Where was the exit?

He recognised this area. Roman ran down a hallway – nope, wrong way – the other one, bolted through a sticky cloud of spider webs and finally, finally, there was the entrance way with its gleaming crystal chandelier and light spilling in through the door. Roman ran for it.

His feet hit dirt and he stumbled out into the blinding Autumn sunlight, wheezing for breath. The mansion behind him was eerily silent. But whatever it was that lived there was right there. Roman bit down on a sob and hurried down the path, back towards town. Where was the town anyway? South-east? His phone had acted as his compass.

Just as Roman was frantically trying to remember his navigational skills, there was a booming from above him. He lurched back with a shriek as a thing dropped down in front of him with a thud and the sweep of wings – big black wings, like fucking MOTHMAN. Roman didn’t see any more, because the world spun around him and, like the Disney princesses he idolized, he fainted dead away.

“-do with him?”

“We certainly can’t allow him to leave. He has seen us.”

“Come on, Lo. Maybe he’ll think it was a dream?”

“The recorded proof would beg to differ.”

“Oh, right. Did you see where it went? Maybe we can delete the footage.”

“I have it.” A third, gravelly voice mumbled. “Ugh, why did he have to come here? Or play that damn thing so loud?”

“You were startled, Virge. It’s not your fault he saw you.” The higher voice soothed. “Does anyone know how to work one of these recording devices?”

There was a long silence.

“I might try it.” The stiff voice said. There was some clicking and shuffling, a flap of sails or wings. The voice hummed in thought. “They have certainly developed these things. The last time I saw one, it was much larger. I wonder how they have compacted the design like this. I would like to keep this specimen for examination.”

“He’ll be looking for it.” The gravelly voice groaned. “We have to give it back – after we delete the footage, anyway.”

Roman yawned.

There was a startled skittering around him, which made him frown. His bed was cold, and dusty – why was he lying on top of the sheets, anyway? He felt around for his pillow and found a very large, ornate, and unfamiliar bedhead. This wasn’t his room. Which meant the voices weren’t his podcast.

Roman bolted upright. There was a hiss, a clatter and a crunch underfoot. He looked around frantically in the dim light – he was in what looked like an old bedroom, flopped on a four-poster bed with three indistinct shapes gathered around him, twitching and flinching back now that he was awake. His heart hammered in his chest.

“Well, that’s one way to do it.” The higher voice said. And now that Roman’s eyes were open, he could see the person it belonged to. A – not quite a person, wearing overalls with gleaming fangs and canine ears pricked in curiosity, eyes gleaming an inhuman blue. He lifted clawed hands in a placating gesture. “Okay, so-”

Roman screamed.

The other two figures – one tall and pale with huge black eyes and massive wings folded against his back, the other hunched over with way too many limbs twitching around him – jumped at the shriek. For the wolf-man’s credit, he didn’t appear startled. His ears lowered non-threateningly.

“Are you finished?”

Roman wanted to petulantly say ‘no’. But that probably wouldn’t get him anywhere, so he nodded quickly instead. The fanged monster beamed.

“Great! Sorry to startle you, kiddo. You can call me Patton.”

“What are you doing?” The spidery-creature hissed. “Don’t introduce yourself!”

“Well he looks scared!” Patton protested.

“Good!”

They continued to bicker, as Roman looked between them like a rather terrified tennis observer. The third creature cleared its throat with a flutter of wings – less like moth wings, he could see now, but thickly feathered, like those of a bird. An owl? His eyes were very large and very black as they observed Roman. He cleared his throat.

“Greetings. Since we are doing introductions, you may call me Logan.”

Roman let out a little frightened whine. The third creature – smaller than the other two, with dripping mandibles and a cluster of gleaming eyes and far too many spider-like legs, groaned.

“Ugh, whatever. I’m Virgil.”

“And you are?” Patton prompted. Roman curled up with his knees to his chest, dimly wondering if he was tripping. There were mushrooms in the forest, right? Could you get high without eating them? Maybe by breathing in enough spores? This place was mildewy enough for him to have breathed in lots of spores.

“Err – Roman.”

Patton grinned at him with very sharp teeth. “It’s nice to meet you, Roman.”

“I… wish I could say the same, but I must admit I’m… very confused.” Roman managed. Patton nodded sympathetically.

“You must be. I bet it’s strange waking up in a new place surrounded by strangers.”

“It is.” Roman agreed. The spider – Virgil – grumbled.

“Strange? It’s our house.”

At Roman’s stare, Logan elaborated, “We live in this mansion. You unknowingly trespassed in our home.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Roman said faintly. “I’ll just be on my way then. Did any of you gentlemen happened to see where I dropped my things?”

Logan glanced down at his feet, where a camera sat crumpled with a foot-shaped dent in the middle. Roman’s mouth dropped open.

“You startled me.” Logan defended, before turning. “Virgil, you found the recorder. Did you see the light source as well?”

“Um, I think so.” Virgil muttered. He backed away from the bed before turning to scurry away. Roman squeaked as all those limbs disappeared around the doorway.

“So, about that leaving.” Patton winced, and Roman began to have a very bad feeling. Patton’s eyes flung open wide. “Oh, it’s okay, no need for that face! You can go. I just need you to make a promise, first.”

“A promise?” Roman echoed. Patton nodded while Logan watched passively.

“Yeah. I need you to promise to not tell anyone about us. You can kind of see why we’re a big secret, right?”

Roman nodded frantically. “Yes, I won’t tell anyone. Not a soul. My lips are sealed.” To demonstrate, he pretended to zip up his lips and Patton’s ears lowered in confusion. Okay, maybe cool it with the gestures around a wolfman. “Your secret is safe with me.”

With a series of clicks, Virgil slunk back into the room, something clasped in his hands. Roman swung his legs over the side of the bed, and just managed to catch his phone as Virgil tossed it at him.

“Light’s off. I think it’s broken.” The monster mumbled. It didn’t look broken – at least, the screen wasn’t cracked. Roman frowned and clicked the on button, and the screen lit up. All three creatures jumped. That in turn made him jump.

“Er, no, not broken.” Roman said warily.

“How does it work?” Logan leaned in with a fascinated stare.

“I press the button?” Roman demonstrated, turning the screen off and on again. Logan looked mesmerized. “It’s my phone.”

“I thought phones were bigger.” Patton lifted his hands to demonstrate. “They’re connected to wires, and you can talk to people through them.”

“Well, yeah, old ones.” Roman felt like he was in a dream. “With the new ones you can still talk to people. And play games and stuff. Listen to music…”

“All of that from one tiny box?” Logan breathed. “If you have time, I would love to learn more about it. It has been… some time, since I ventured into the outside world.”

Well, this might as well happen. Roman unlocked his phone and scrolled between pages, showing Logan the clusters of apps. “So these are all the applications. They do different things.”

“Oh!” Patton jumped up with an excited yelp that made Roman jump. “I’ll get our guest something to eat. Oh this is so exciting.” He darted off as Roman began explaining touchscreens, and then Wi-Fi. After a few more questions, Roman found himself stumped.

“Uh – okay. How about I come back tomorrow with a PowerPoint?”

“I do not know what this ‘power point’ is, but I am intrigued.” Logan admitted. “Please do. It is wonderful to learn more of the outside world. Before you go, will you please show me what these ‘applications’ do? What is this colourful one?”

“Oh, it’s Candy Crush.”

Roman spent more time in that mansion than he would care to admit. After some scares with suddenly-blaring music that made Virgil cling to the ceiling, and almost an hour of playing with the voice-recorder app and Patton making all kinds of sounds Roman didn’t know he could make, he found he was almost… having fun. Like, yeah, everything was weird and kinda fucked-up, but if Roman was anything, he was adaptable. And brave. Handsome, too, and dashing, princely…

He was almost reluctant to go home. As he hesitated at the door Patton grinned at him, and Virgil sighed.

“Look, we’ll still be here tomorrow, flesh-mortal. Scram.”

“Come back soon!” Patton added brightly.

So Roman left.

He spent most of his evening doing research and putting together a power point – and then decided that if he was going to do this, he should do it right, and bought a huge bag of snack foods that those poor unfortunate souls hadn’t had the chance of tasting before. He dutifully kept his promise to keep the secret, but when he tried writing down the day’s events in his diary – his hand wouldn’t move. He tried to remember the names but they hovered just out of his grasp. Only when he gave up trying to write it did everything come back to him.

So, no talking or writing about it. That was probably for the best, to keep his strange new friends safe. Roman was already planning to extend his holiday. He wondered if Logan would be open to setting up an email account. Roman was just dying to introduce them to instagram.

#fic #writing #my writing #sanders sides #cryptids

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whitecrossgirl · 5 years

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Why Don’t You Do Right?

AN: So here is the Who Framed Roger Rabbit AU that no one asked for but I wrote it anyway, mainly because of the mental image of Gwendoline Christie as Jessica Rabbit. I messaged @sassbewitchedmyass about this idea and with her kickass encouragement, I decided to write it. I hope you enjoy it.

Tyrion had been surprised when Daenerys Targaryen had contacted him. He had made it clear that despite the lull in people hiring a private detective, he would not work for anyone in show business. Not after Bronn was murdered by someone in the business, someone who had taken every step to hide their tracks and it seemed all of showbiz had helped them to do so. Bronn had been more than a best friend, he had been like a brother to him and things just hadn’t been the same. He barely focused on his work, numbing his pain with wine and scotch, just punching time until the inevitable. Then Daenerys Targaryen, CEO and owner of Three Dragons Studios had contacted him, requesting his services to confirm whether the spouse of one of her best actors was having an affair. Initially he had dismissed her; he was a private detective, not a gossip magazine. Actors having extra-marital affairs was of no concern to him.

“Why would I do that?” Tyrion had asked and Daenerys raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe because the employee in question is your brother Jaime?” Daenerys challenged, causing Tyrion to almost choke on his drink.

He had not seen or heard from Jaime for years. Tyrion had walked out on his family at the age of eighteen; fed up with the toxic environment, the taunts, insults and belittlement. He had refused to keep in contact with any member of his family; didn’t bother to look up any further developments in their lives. Indeed, the only reason he knew Jaime was in the same city was because of Jaime’s fame. Like Tyrion, Jaime had turned his back on the family, however it seemed that had been the best thing for him. Jaime was a talented actor and with his talent, good looks and charm, he had quickly become the most sought after actor in the business. Surprisingly, it was actually his voice acting which had made him an icon. He voiced the character Roger Rabbit; a carefree cartoon rabbit who constantly got into foolish shenanigans. Jaime had turned the character into one of the most beloved in recent years and definitely the most popular thing to come out of the Three Dragons Studio. Yet that was all he knew about Jaime’s life. He didn’t read any of the interviews Jaime gave or watched any of the movies or TV shows he starred in. He didn’t even know Jaime was married.

“I didn’t know Jaime was married.” Tyrion said and Daenerys gave a wry smile.

“He’s devoted to her and she’s playing him like a fool. Rumour has it, she’s got this thing with Tormund Giantsbane, one of the main players at Jon Snow’s White Wall studios. If that’s true, it explains the mole in our business, feeding Jon Snow all our ideas and secrets.” Daenerys explained. She and Jon Snow were in charge of two of the biggest studios in the business and spies were everywhere between the two companies. It made sense to her that they would get someone both connected to the studios but not employed to source their information.

“So what do you want me to do?” Tyrion asked. “I don’t work showbiz. It’s a nest of vipers.”

“I want you to get proof of this affair. Get that proof, Jaime knows the truth and we can all get back to business.” Daenerys explained. She wasn’t that overly concerned about Jaime’s marriage but he was the most valued actor in her company. If anything happened to him; if he quit or his wife made him leave for White Wall; it would ruin Three Dragons. It would be better for him if he knew the truth of his wife.

“I don’t know who this woman is, how am I meant to find her and prove that she’s having an affair?” Tyrion challenged. “Also, how much are you offering?”

“Thousand, you get five hundred upfront. The rest when the photos are delivered.” Daenerys offered.

“Deal,” Tyrion nodded as Daenerys handed him the money in a bundle of notes. Tyrion took a moment to double check before pocketing the money. “So where do I find her.”

“She sings at Riverrun Club on Sparrow Street. Performs under the name Sapphire Starr. From what I know, she’s performing there tonight. Giantsbane never misses a single performance.” Daenerys explained. “I want the photos as soon as you have them.”

“Deal,” Tyrion repeated as Daenerys left his office. For a moment, he considered the implications of his actions. He hadn’t seen or spoken to his brother in years. Now he was expected to break his brother’s heart by finding evidence of his wife’s infidelity. It was a dirty job but someone had to do it. Besides, it was probably better in the long run for Jaime.

And a thousand dragons was a thousand dragons.

Later that evening, Tyrion found himself inside the tastefully decorated Riverrun club. It was owned by the Tully family and their colours of red and blue were tastefully scattered around. With the name Riverrun, there was a decorative theme to give the illusion of being underwater. However Tyrion doubted it was the décor that attracted so many customers tonight. The majority of the customers were men but there were more than a few women in the club as well; all of them drinking, laughing and enjoying the current performance of a pianist. Tyrion managed to find a table close to where Giantsbane was sat. Tyrion knew him by sight and it wasn’t hard to miss the large red headed man in a vivid blue suit. Tyrion took his seat and within seconds a waitress appeared by his side.

“Tyrion? Is that you?”

Tyrion looked up to see Sansa Stark beside him, an empty tray balanced in her hand. He had helped the Stark family find evidence that the Lannister’s, his own father had been plotting with the Frey’s to destroy the Stark’s family business. He had taken great pleasure in foiling his father’s schemes but he hadn’t seen any of the Starks in a few years.

“Sansa, I didn’t know you worked here.” Tyrion said as Sansa gave a small smile.

“Uncle Edmure gave me a job, it helps fund living expenses for university. Are you here to see Brienne?” Sansa asked and Tyrion shook his head.

“Who’s Brienne?” Tyrion asked and a flicker of awkwardness crossed Sansa’s face before she smiled. “I’ve heard of Sapphire Starr, I came to see her perform.”

“Oh that is her name, Sapphire Starr is her stage name, Brienne is her real name. We always have the busiest and best nights when she performs. She’ll be on in a minute.” Sansa said, looking to the stage. Tyrion followed her gaze as the pianist finished and the curtains began to draw. She seemed to be correct; as the curtains drew, more of the patrons moved towards the stage, grabbing tables, chairs or even standing; just so they were close enough to the walkway of the stage that seemed to reach all the way to Giantsbane’s table. Whoever this Sapphire was, clearly she was popular and able to lure a crowd. However, Tyrion’s thoughts returned to the job at hand as slow, jazzy music began to play and a sultry voice began to sing.

“You had plenty money, 1922,” As she sang, a long, pale leg emerged from the curtains before they drew back to cheers and a piercingly loud wolf whistle from Giantsbane. Despite the loudness of the cheers, Tyrion could hear her singing. She was like a siren, her voice and looks luring the men towards her; hypnotising them with her voice and appearance.

“You let other women make a fool of you Why don’t you do right? Like some other man do?”

As she sang, Tyrion was transfixed by her appearance. He could see why so many men and women flocked to the bar and to the stage. She was the tallest woman he had ever seen and the heels she wore maximised her height and made her endless legs seem longer. Her risqué dress was strapless, baring her pale shoulders but held up by her bust; on one side the skirt was cut daringly high, ending just at the top of her thigh, meaning each step she took as she strutted down the stage, showed off more and more of her legs, enticing and alluding to any temptation beyond that point. The dress was a deep shade of dark blue but had enough sequins that glinted off of the stage lights to give the illusion of stars. Tyrion could understand now why she chose the stage name Sapphire Starr; more precious than any jewel, more enchanting than any star.

Her blonde hair was short and carefully styled and curled so that it fell carefully around her face. Her face was also carefully made up; scarlet lipstick and eyes that gave the impression of heavily lidded bedroom eyes. Although her face wasn’t the most beautiful; it was her confidence, her height and her sensuality, her sexual confidence in herself that seemed to impress the crowd. She had learnt how to accept, embrace and use her sexuality and sex appeal along with her singing talent and it had worked perfectly for her. He had never seen a woman like her. She was like a being from a legend; a warrior goddess or a siren, luring men to their death.

“She’s married to Jaime?” Tyrion whispered to Sansa who watched as Sapphire/Brienne sang towards a young man, who seemed utterly transfixed by her and astounded he had won her attentions for a moment. Even as she pushed him away, the young man stared after her, his hand ghosting over where she had touched him; as though blessed by the Seven themselves.

“Yeah, she’s a lucky woman,” Sansa said wistfully. She dreamed of finding true love like Brienne and Jaime did; of having a man who adored her and was as devoted to her as Jaime was to Brienne. Maybe someday, Sansa thought as she went to collect more drinks orders, leaving Tyrion to watch the show.

Tyrion turned his attention back to Brienne who was now stepping off the stage and onto Giantsbane’s table. He reached out his hand and Brienne took it, stepping off of the table and slipping an arm around his neck, aiming the next words at him seductively as she playfully stroked his beard.

“Get out of here, make me some money too,”

Before Tyrion could get his camera, Brienne had moved away from Giantsbane and seemed to put her focus onto him, singing the next words almost too him as she sat on the far end of the table and leaned across it. She was close enough that if he chose to, he could have looked down her dress, however he was fixated on her eyes. They were sapphire blue too. Brienne took him by the tie and pulled him towards her until they were almost face to face.

“Why don’t; you do right? Like some other man…”

Tyrion wondered if she had guessed who he was. As if teasing him with that answer, Brienne actually leaned in and teasingly pretended to kiss the edge of his nose before finishing her song.

“Do?”

With that, she let go of his tie, leaving him half standing in a daze as she walked back to the stage and behind the curtain to thunderous applause and cheers from the other patrons in the club. Tyrion felt almost dumbstruck by what he had seen and heard. How could that beautiful, enchanting, bewitching woman be married to his brother? Tyrion shook his head, like a dog trying to shake off water as he noticed Giantsbane getting up from his seat and heading backstage. Tyrion felt for the camera in his pocket before following him.

Jaime. He was doing this for Jamie.

#game of thrones #fic #braime #briennexjaime #brienne of tarth #Jaime Lannister #Tyrion Lannister #daenerys targaryen #tormund giantsbane #who framed roger rabbit au

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apprentice-melphina · 5 years

Note

Asra's magic went wrong, and now, the ot3 are children!! The main 3 (Asra, Julian and Nadia) Have to take care of them until Asra figures out how to change them back! (fic prompt?)

You didn’t mention Portia, but I’m throwing her in there forgood fun.

Under a cut because it’s long.

“Thank you both for joining me today. It’s a shame that Asradid not reply to my invitation.”

Portia set the tea tray on the table before sitting downnext to Julian. “Any time, milday.”

Nadia gave Portia a leveled stare, eliciting a shy blushfrom the younger woman.

“Any time… Nadia. Thank you for the invite.”

“Yes, it’s nice to get away from the clinic when I can sparethe time. Thank you, Countess.”

“You’re very welcome, Julian. Portia talks highly of you andhow much you work. We both thought you might need the time off.”

Portia nudged her brother gently with her elbow and shot hima wink as he looked away with a blush. She passed him a tea cup and then Nadia.She started to prepare her own when there was a commotion at the door that had caughtthe attention of all three attendees.

Asra burst through the high doors with a frazzled look onhis face. One arm held some sort of package against his chest.

“Thank the gods you’re all here. I need everyone’s help.”

Nadia raised an eyebrow in question. “Asra, whatever is thematter? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

Asra began to move the wrappings from around the package inhis arms. The pudgy face of a baby emerged. Portia and Julian both gasped.Nadia’s eye widened.

Julian was the first to speak. “So, uh, who’s this then? Didan… ex-lover leave this child on your door step or something?”

Asra shot Julian a glare then pulled the blanket furtherdown to reveal a tangle of black hair. “Look closer. Who does this look like?”

There was silence as they contemplated.

“Melphina!” Nadia announced in shock.

Asra nodded, handing her off to Portia. “Yes, and she needsto be held, or she’ll start crying. Trust me. Do. Not. Put. Her. Down.”

“That won’t be a problem!” Portia sing songed as shecompletely removed Melphina from the blanket and then cuddled her closely.“You’re so precious! Look at those cheeks!”

“Muriel and Grey won’t be happy about this,” Juliancommented with a shake of his head.

“Well, about that…” Asra turned his back. A baby Grey washooked to a sling on his back, smiling mischievously. Julian stepped forwardand removed him. Asra then reached into a bag at his side, producing Muriel,just as much a baby as the other two. He was sleeping peacefully.

“Asra, how on earth did this happen?” Nadia asked as Asrapassed Muriel to her. He simply shook his head.

“I’m not quite sure. I had them helping me with a spell andwhen it was over—Julian! Don’t put them down!”

But it was too late. As soon as Grey’s feet hit the floor,they were off, trying to climb the curtains. When Julian rushed to scoop themup, they ran away with a laugh to hide under a table.

“You can’t let Grey out of your sight. They’ll get intoanything and everything if you’re not watching.” Asra sighed and plopped downonto a chaise lounge. He rubbed at his temples with a weary sigh.

“Do you know how you’re going to fix this?” Nadia asked. Shewas holding Muriel in her arms, looking down at him with a soft smile. “What awell-tempered child.”

“I’d expect nothing else from him,” Asra commented beforeshaking his head again. “No. I’ve brought my spell book with me to try and workout how to fix this mess, but I need everyone’s help to watch over them while Iwork do. I’m sorry, Nadi, for interrupting your day off, but if you three couldplease help me…”

“Of course, dear Asra. We will keep them occupied while youfigure out how to get our friends back.”

“Of course, we don’t mind watching over such a preciousbaby!” Portia cooed. She scrunched up her face, touching noses to a gigglingMelphina as she bounced her on her leg.

“Portia, I’m serious. You cannot put Melphina down. If youneed to rest, pass her to someone else.”

Portia waved him off as she stood up, Melphina propped onher hip. “I get it, Asra. Put her down and she’ll cry. I’ve had to handle needykids before in Nevinon. I’ve got this.

“Now, come on, precious. Let’s go find you a snacky.” Portialeft the room.

“Get down from there!”

Asra and Nadia looked up. Grey had climbed on top of a tableand was reaching for a golden framed painting. His fingertips brushed thecorner, sending the painting tumbling onto Julian as he reached out to pickthem up. Guffawing, Grey jumped from the table and out of the door that Portiahad left open. Julian followed behind them, rubbing his head.

“I need to work quickly.” Asra jumped to his feet. “I’ll bein the library if you need me, Nadia. Hopefully I can figure this out quickly.”The magician too disappeared through the door.

Portia hummed as she walked into the kitchen. The area wasmostly empty, save a worker or two taking a late lunch at the long table in themiddle of the room. Portia bounced the baby Melphina on her hip as she wentinto the pantry.

“So, what sort of things can you? I know adult you likesfish but…”

She reached a hand up to Melphina’s mouth and teased it openwith a finger. Several small teeth were set into the soft gums. Portiashrugged.

“You can probably eat some mushed-up food but nothing toohard, so bones are definitely off the menu.”

Melphina answered her with some baby talk before resting herhead against Portia’s shoulder. Portia felt her heart stutter.

She settled on two bundles of peas and carrots, grabbed apot and spoon, and went back to the kitchen area. She set the vegetables andspoon on the counter, and the pot on the stove. A pitcher of whatever stood nearby,and she poured some into the pot. After starting the fire, she turned to the vegetables,grabbing a wooden cutting board and knife.

Portia paused. Sure, Asra had warned her several times aboutputting Melphina down, but cutting up the vegetables wouldn’t take thatlong, she reasoned. She only needed a minute to cut them up and dump them intothe steadily rolling water. She put the knife down on the cutting board as shelooked around for somewhere safe to place Melphina. She grabbed several emptypotato sacks and stuffed them into an empty apple basket. It would have to do.

She shifted Melphina from her hip to hold her up in bothhands. “All right, Mel. I’m going to put you down for just a second so I canmake your lunch, ok? No crying, all right?”

Portia bumped noses with the baby again and cooed at hergently. Melphina giggled in reply. Deciding she would be just fine, Portia settledher into the basket and turned away to the cutting board.

She picked up the knife and put a bright orange carrot onthe cutting board. As she brought the knife down, a blood curdling scream rangout just behind her. She whipped around, both carrot and knife still in handand looked around. The other servants were looking over at her with faces ofpure horror. No, their gaze was slightly lowered to the basket near her feet.

Melphina’s face was contorted into a cry, mouth open wide,fists balled around her face. She was wriggling in the basket, kicking her legs out in a horrible tantrum. Shecontinued to cry and the other servants slipped away with furtive glances.

“Melphina!” Portia set her tools back onto the cutting boardto scoop up the child. Immediately, her cries stopped, and Melphina curled upappreciatively in the Devorak’s arms. Portia sighed, bouncing her up and down,patting her lightly on the back.

“Now, listen here, Mel. I know you’re a baby, but normally,you’re a calm and collected woman!” Portia held Melphina out at arm’s length.Mel looked back at her with large, grey eyes, but did not indicate that sheunderstood anything Portia was telling her. “So, I know you can go for two orthree minutes without me needing to hold you. I can tell your hungry because youkept eating at my hair. So, just… hold it together for a moment and you’ll bemuch happier, got it?”

Melphina stuck her tongue out, blowing soft bubbles. Portiasighed. She set Melphina back in the basket and turned quickly to the counterto finish her work.

Another scream sounded behind her.

“Grey! Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

Julian lifted the curtain of window in the hallway, scowlingat his reflection. He was sure the little bugger had gone this way, if thetrail of petals was any indication. He had passed an upturn vase just momentsbefore.

He heard a giggle up ahead. Julian dashed forward andthrough the next archway.

“Aha!”

Grey was at peaking over the edge of a table, reaching for awhite pot perched in the middle. At Julian’s outburst, they turned away and ambleddown the steps towards the courtyard. Julian’s legs were long, so he didn’tunderstand how Grey was four steps ahead of him. By the time Julian reached themiddle of the stairs, they were ducking behind the first hedge of the maze.

“No, no. Come back here, you little—” Julian’s voice loweredinto an indistinguishable grumble. He jumped the last few steps and leapttoward the maze. But Grey was gone, the echoes of their laughter the only signto Julian that he was still in their vicinity.

Julian heaved; wiping sweat from his brow. He wasn’t sureexactly how long he had been running around the tall green walls. He had almostcaught Grey once when they had made a wrong turn to dead end and doubled backaround. But they had slipped seemingly easily beneath Julian’s legs, leavinghim standing around like a fool with his arms outstretched, assuming that Greyhad given up and was running toward him to be taken away. It wasn’t going to bethat easy.

Suddenly, the area cleared, and the sound of flowing waterdrowned out Grey’s incessant laughter. Julian looked up at the fountain with ahalf deer, half fish creature set in the middle. Hearing the water, his tonguefelt thick in his mouth and he walked forward, eyes half lidded, to take a quickreprieve.

He was bringing up the second gulp of whatever to his mouthwhen he realized that he wasn’t alone. He looked up at the statue in the middleof the fountain. Grey looked down at him, smirking from their perch on thecreature’s back. Julian simply looked at them, blinked.

“Grey… Are you ready to go back now?”

Julian was sure Grey’s childish laugh would haunt his dreamsfor the next week. They laughed again before launching themselves off thestatue and straight at Julian’s head.

Asra burst through the drawing room doors again, a triumphantsmile on his face. “Nadi! I’ve figured it out!”

The Countess lowered the book she had been reading. Besideher, situated between pillows so that he couldn’t roll away, Muriel sat upright with a loaf of bread in his mouth. He looked up curiously at Asra, browwrinkled as though he were annoyed that his story time had been interrupted.

“Well, as fun as our time has been together, I suppose it istime to return things to right.”

Asra approached them, an eyebrow raised. “How was it lookingafter him?”

She smiled at the magician. “Quite easy. He doesn’t fuss,listens attentively, and is not picky about his food. He is quite the perfectchild.”

Asra nodded. “I expected as much. But what about Melphinaand Grey?”

Nadia shrugged. “Neither have returned since you left.Hopefully, Portia has had an easy time as well. I don’t have the same hopes forJulian, however…”

At that moment, the door opened again. Portia entered, hair tousledand eyes heavy, Melphina on her hip. Julian was right behind her, looking considerablyworse. His outfit was wet, knees of his pants ripped, coat dirtied. Grey wasslung over his shoulders, running their hands through his hair, maybe trying tobraid it, maybe knotting it on purpose. It was difficult to tell.

Portia stiffly walked up to Nadia. “Please, take her.” Nadiareached out took Melphina into her own arms. Portia walked over to her ownchair, but her arms were still held stiffly out at her sides. Nadia gasped.

“Portia, what is the matter with your arms?”

“I’ve been holding her like this for so long, I’m not sure Ican put my arms down right now.”

Julian sat down beside her, saying nothing.

“Well,” Asra started, “let’s fix this quickly then.”

He bustled around them, quickly setting up the magic circleand reading over his notes for the spell. When everything was ready, hemotioned them over. They set the younger versions of their friends in the circleand then backed away. Melphina’s whining voice started to belt out as Asra beganthe spell and then cut out completely.

There was a blinding light and smoke filled the room. Coughing,Portia ran to the nearest window and threw it open. Smoke billowed out onto thegrounds. The four friends looked eagerly back to the circle.

Three hunched figures stood in front of them. Melphinatapped a wrinkled hand to her pursed lips, squinting as she looked around the room.

“Where are we?” she creaked out in a thin voice.

Grey, bent permanently at the waist, put a hand to theirear. “What! Speak up! I can’t hear you!”

Muriel simply looked down at his friends, eyelids shut, longlocks of grey hair falling about his face.

“Oh, no…” Asra whispered.

#ask #tea0-0stache #ot3 for life #writing #writingoneshot:melphina #writingoneshot:ot3forlife #sorry for any typos i have not read it over

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tngrayson · 7 years

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Broken - Ch.9 - Intruders

A/N: Though this story is AU it loosely follows the events of Crisis Core…at least for a little while. I do not own Final Fantasy, Crisis Core, Advent Children or any of the respective characters. I only own this story’s plot.

I had A BUNCH of issues writing this chapter. This is actually my third rewrite (my computer kept crashing and corrupting my document beyond repair) Anyway, I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I worked hard on it...three times. ha! Don't forget to review and let me know what you're thinking. Suggestions, questions, criticisms, tips...all that jazz! Enjoy!!

Reader x Sephiroth (married)

Warnings (this story): Abuse, Adult Situations, Extreme Violence, Non!con

Warnings (this chapter): Abuse, child abuse/harm to children, extreme violence, home invasion, graphic violence THIS IS A GRITTY CHAPTER, SO IF THESE WARNINGS AREN’T YOUR THING, PLEASE DON’T READ THIS. I have tagged trigger warnings as well

Word Count: 1800

Summary: When Sephiroth is pulled away on a secret deployment his family is attacked. Will love and hope be enough to keep them alive?

Get caught up here

I walk up to the front door and I stand there for a moment. I have brought four men with me, and they are waiting for me to give an order. I don't even know their names, Isn't that funny? They are just four sick men that I grabbed off of the street; willing to do anything for a high enough price. In this case, I have promised them lots of money and a taste of Y/N. The promises are empty and I suspect that none of them will make it out alive tonight. After all of these months, it's finally time to meet Y/N and I haven't even planned this out. How will I enter? I could knock on the door and surprise her when she opens it. I could break the door down and rush her in the kitchen where I am sure she is standing. That may prove risky, however, with those three little brats in the house. She is much more likely to put up a fight to protect them. Maybe stealth is the best way to go here. Stepping off of the front stoop and into the grass of the front yard, the four men and I make our way to the side of the house. I approach the patio door and look into the kitchen and there she is. She is so fascinating. Temporarily distracted from the task at hand, I stand there and watch her just as I have watched her many nights before; preparing food for those boys, relaxing in the living room. I have even watched that red-headed idiot of a Turk sleep on her couch, protecting—I have to stop and laugh to myself a little for that one. Some protector he is, where is he tonight when she is surely going to need him?—And now I can barely contain myself as I watch her drinking peppermint tea out of her favorite black mug with her back to me in the kitchen. I step away from the patio door and out of view of the kitchen. The four men all have their eyes on me. Still waiting for the signal. They're getting anxious. “We're going in soon,” I tell them. As for the plan, I will have the alarm system disarmed first. Then I will have the first man enter through the patio door and surprise Y/N from behind. I'll tell him to bring her upstairs, but he won't make it that far, as I am certain she will take him out. This man is easily the weakest of this group and Y/N is the wife of Sephiroth after all. It would be foolish of anyone to believe that they can overpower her as easily as any other woman. I just want to get her blood pumping.

In the meantime, the three remaining men and I will scale the house and enter from the balcony to her bedroom. From there, I will send one man to kill the children in their room. Y/N will come running upstairs to check on them after the initial attack in the kitchen and when she sees what this man has done to her 'precious babies' she will no doubt kill him too. I will remain in the bedroom with the last two men. Y/N is bound to travel in there after all of the commotion. I will tell the men to rape her. They will try and she will fight back, but she won't be able to win. I'll kill the two men before they get too far and I will be her savior. She'll be indebted to me. Everyone will be out of the way and Y/N and I can finally be together. The thought of having her to myself gives me chills and I can feel the hairs rising on the back of my neck as I look at the smallest man and tell him to begin on the alarms and surprise her in the kitchen. The rest of the men and I begin our trek up to the bedroom balcony. It's an easy trip. I step onto the balcony and open the double doors. The only light in Y/N’s bedroom is a soft glow coming from the bathroom. Immediately to my left is a bedside table with a lamp and a picture of Y/N and that bastard, Sephiroth. I turn the picture face down, as I cannot stand to look at it. The large bed is half-made and on the other side of it is another bedside table with a lamp. The picture on this one is of Sephiroth with the three little boys. 'These pictures will have to go,' I think to myself. On the same wall is a long dresser with even more pictures and a small stack of papers.

On the next wall, is the door to the bathroom and to the right of that is a tall dresser in the corner. On the wall facing the bed is a table full with jewelry on trays and colognes and perfumes. Above the table are a collage of framed family photos, certificates of achievement, and a few medals that have been awarded to Sephiroth from the ShinRa company. Directly in front of me is the door to the hallway that leads straight into the kid's room. Next to that, on the wall directly to my right is a large closet. On my way into the bathroom for further inspection, I instruct two of the men to make themselves comfortable, and the other to make his way down the hall to take care of the children.

You are so caught up in your thoughts of taking the boys out tomorrow that you don't hear the low 'click' of the lock on the patio door. You don't hear the soft sound of the door sliding open and then closed. You do not hear the near silent footfalls of the stranger creeping up behind you. Just as you are about to turn and place your cup of tea on the counter, a gloved hand shoots up and covers your mouth and a leather-clad arm comes up and wraps around your neck. Instinctively, you drop the mug and try to pry the hand and arm off of you. The man presses his body closer to your back to get a tighter grip on you. He leans his head down right next to your ear and begins to whisper something to you, but whatever it is goes unnoticed. You hear Loz give out a blood-curdling scream from upstairs, a loud 'thunk', and right after, you hear Yazoo shouting, “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” It's almost as if your heart stops for a moment only to start up again in a fury. You're starting to panic. You have to get to your children. The man no doubt begins to feel how uneasy you've become, and his firm hold on you quickly turns into a violent choke. You begin to struggle harder, and you can feel the air leaving your chest and your lungs fighting to get just the slightest amount of it back. Suddenly, your muscles are growing heavier with every second. You can not pass out right now. Leaving your children helpless in a house with this dangerous stranger is not an option. Your vision is blurry as your eyes frantically scan the area looking for a weapon—anything—to defend yourself with. The first thing you spot is the tea kettle. You reach out for it, only to have your body pulled back a little. “Oh no you don't,” the man grunts. You stick your foot out between his legs and behind you to push off of the base of the island to get closer. Reaching out once more, you snatch up the still hot kettle in your hand and with all your might, you swing it up and behind you. The lid falls open and splashes hot water over the two of you. You scream from the pain and the man loosens his grip significantly.

You break free and turn to swing at him with the hot kettle again, it meets full force with the side of his face this time and he falls to the ground, hitting his head on the corner of the island on the way down. If he isn’t dead, he’ll definitely be knocked out for a while. Hopefully for long enough for you to get your children out of the house. You run out of the kitchen and through the living room into the entrance hall. You pause for only the slightest of seconds to push the panic button on the alarm panel before making a mad dash up the stairs. The button would send out an emergency call to Reno and the local police. Hopefully, they'll get here soon.

Kadaj had had a hard time sleeping since you had put him to bed tonight. His brief moments of sleep weren't very pleasant at all. He would have dreams of strange faces and noises and dreams where he would never see his father again. A tall shadow of a man is creeping through the bedroom door. He has a gun in his hand. The man is coming closer and closer and Kadaj, in his sleep begins to sense that something is very wrong. He begins to feel afraid. Sleepily, he calls out for his daddy. The man, now standing next to Kadaj's bed, mumbles something unclear about Sephiroth and swings his arm down to strike Kadaj in his face. Everything goes black for just a moment and then Kadaj finds himself dreaming again. This time the same man from a minute ago is standing before his brothers in the corner. He sees the man kick Yazoo in the stomach and the little boy goes down immediately. Loz begins to scream at the top of his lungs, but for only a moment, as the man grabs Loz by the arm and tosses him across the room. He lands awkwardly on the toy chest at the foot of Kadaj's bed and tumbles to the floor. The next thing he hears is Yazoo crying out, “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” Kadaj, despite what's happening right in front of him, becomes distracted for an instant. He has never heard his brothers scream like this before. Not even when they had hurt each other or made each other cry during little fights. This time was different. Kadaj, no longer able to handle this nightmare, forces himself to wake up. There is a sharp pain over his left eye. He grabs his head as he sits up in the bed only to see exactly what he had dreamed; Loz sprawled out on the floor near his bed unmoving, and Yazoo sat against the wall cradling his midsection and wheezing for air. The strange man from his dream is standing over Yazoo with the gun raised to his face. Kadaj sees another shadow enter the room and he can’t get out of the bed fast enough to help. He stretches his arm out to his brother, screaming, “Yazoo!”

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