#I think you can print out stuff that sticks on to the same effect but that requires a special printer

[melrosing]

bookbinding is so fun you should totally do it

I am v tempted, just need to look into how much kit is actually required….

[snek-panini]

It's been a few weeks since I had new books to share, but I finally got photos taken of the newest ones so today's the day. Here, have a book:

This is Across Tides and Currents, a Good Omens siren AU by Sodium_Azide and @doorwaytoparadise (hi. I hope I tagged you right). My favorite thing about this AU is that, at its heart, it's about learning to communicate with someone who is so different from you that you can't even physically speak each other's language, and yet you've still got so much common ground that you find a way. It's way lighter and more fun than that description makes it sound, though, so go read it if that's your thing.

The cover on this is Lineco book cloth, scrapbook paper printed to look like leather, and blue foil htv. The foil was actually a nightmare to do. The first time I applied it, it wouldn't stick no matter what I did, and the bits that did stick peeled off as soon as I touched them. I had to peel them up very carefully, cut a new image, and try again. Thankfully it worked the second time but I don't know that I'll be using the foil type again unless there's no other way to get the color I want. The non-foil metallic was so much easier to work with.

More book photos under the cut!

I went with a coptic bind for this one for a few reasons. The first was that I wanted to try one on a quarto-size book to see if I could. I also wanted to try the mitered corners thing I did when I bound Strange Moons, and see if I could have the same effect on the interior. (That bit didn't work out so well; the front is fine but I mismeasured the inside and the lines didn't match up, so I trimmed some pieces of cardstock to cover that up. I really like the layered look though, so that's fine. It's quirky.) The third reason is that not long before I decided to bind this one, the authors published a new chapter after two years of no updates. That's the best possible reason to have to change plans, and the glueless bind means that if they ever do that again I can just redo the stitching to add more pages. Win-win.

Getting whimsical with title pages here. This took way longer than I thought it would, probably because I don't like graphic design and I did it in Word where I do the rest of my typesetting. Usually what I do is grab an image and put text around it or on top of it and then just play with fonts and sizes, but this time I drew the lines and then made the text follow them. This is the first time I've used the word art feature since...probably 2009? I'd forgotten how. I have no doubt there are better ways to do this but if I'd had to learn a new program at that point I'd have quit. And I do think it was worth it--it's cute and fun and looks about how I imagined it.

Couple of photos of the inside. Sorry the first one's blurry, I had someone trying to get my attention when I took these. The section break image came from rawpixel, I just made it gray instead of black so it's more subtle. The fic has very nice illustrations that I specifically got the artist's permission to print and then I failed to get any photos of them when I did my little photo shoot. They look very nice, though. I swear.

The last image is something I've started including in my latest books. I'm calling them "A Note from the Bookbinder" and it's basically just me talking about why I chose that story, the experience of reading it for the first time, stuff that's going on in the fandom, stuff about the process like the new chapter coming out as I was preparing to print. It's kind of...like marginalia? Part of fanbinding is preservation and that's linked to archival work, and something I know archivists love is marginalia and diaries. I don't like writing in my books and I've never found any fun in journaling, but sometimes that kind of context is important so I'm trying to add it. Someday, decades from now, I may not remember all the details, so I'm trying to preserve them. IDK, this got philosophical on me. Go read about mermaids now. Promise it's a good time.

[rhyske]

ah! I read your Fenris stuff a while ago and it was so cute! if it isn't too much trouble could you write some domestic Fenris x reader!Hawke pretty please? take your time of course <3

This was adorable to think about, but also strangely hard? Because when I think of Hawke, I think of a chaotic gremlin who has people who clean and cook for them for a reason :'D

-----

Orana was going to have a heart attack.

She'd been watching you, quietly and out of sight, wringing her hands raw, for the past two hours. You've already come up with a thousand apologies to give her when you're done, and have already decided to help her clean the mess you've caused, but that was something for future you to deal with. Right now, well...

You're having way too much fun.

Baking always seemed so easy, in theory. Mix some things in a bowl, stick that bowl in an oven, wait a couple hours, and bam. Treats. What no one ever told you was that organization is everything. Knowing where all the ingredients are, and any help in the kitchen is, would be the difference between half a dozen eggs falling to the floor and, well, no half a dozen eggs falling to the floor.

Or a bag of flour. That your mabari immediately zeroed in on, threw their entire weight into, and zoomed away before any of you could get more than a single word out.

Your mabari is now an albino, and you and Fenris are now covered in layers of flour. Not to mention the kitchen that now looks like it was snowed in.

Bodahn was definitely going to have some choice words with you.

Shaking the baking sheet dry, you do your best to swipe clean a portion of the counter to lay it on. Reaching over and reading, for the tenth time, the instructions to make what should have been simple chocolate chip cookies, you hear familiar footsteps enter the kitchen.

"Did you find that rascal?" you ask, placing your hands on your powdery hips and looking over your shoulder to Fenris.

Setting the new flour bag on the counter, Fenris runs a hand through his hair, grimacing as flour dances to the floor around him. "I fear he's nowhere to be seen."

"Sounds about right." Grabbing the mixing bowl, you take the spoon and start portioning the dough onto the pan. "Though, shouldn't there be paw prints?"

"Leading right out the door."

Your frown smooths away as you feel Fenris' arms snake around your waist, his breath tickling your hair. Or was that the flour? "Well, at least we're not the only ones having fun," you chuckle.

"Yes. Fun."

You pause, registering that smirk in his voice, just as he blows the top layer of flour from your hair. A puff explodes in front of your face, assaulting your sinuses and throat as you gasp in surprise. You feel Fenris slip away as you double over, lungs burning as the coughing fit strikes hard.

A cup of water is quickly shoved into your hand, and you can only take one gulp before gagging. "Agh! I can taste it! Oh! Ew!" You try another mouthful of water with the same effect. "Oh Maker, what--"

The bellow that comes from Fenris almost makes you pause. Shoulders shaking, torso hunched, you watch through teary eyes as he laughs from his very soul.

You don't think you've ever heard anything quite so beautiful.

Fighting the smile and failing, you run to the sink to try to wash your mouth out. "Andraste's tits, Fenris!" You gag again, letting more curses flow from your tongue. "What would you have done if I'd died?"

"Death by flour." He chuckles. "Imagine how Varric would exaggerate that." Clearing his throat, he face smooths out, voice finding its even tone. "I would be the first at your grave. I have a poem already prepared."

"Oh Maker--"

"Co-written by Varric, of course. He took one look at my draft and improved on it. It starts with--"

"Okay, okay. I get it." Rolling your eyes, you shove the bowl of cookie dough into his chest. "Put the cookies on the pan while I think of my revenge."

His grin is full of smug triumph. "At your service."

[the-firebird69]

There's a concert coming up Billy Joel and sting and apparently the computer didn't paste it in but that would be me and peed and not DGA that's a clone and he's hungry for a fight I guess but we do a concert and I don't think we get along cuz there's a fight in dune. I also don't see why I'm not in the second one maybe I change characters and someone is fighting my father saying that I am it's very weird it's kind of set up it's very strange and doesn't have a great effect it's kind of weird you can see who's fighting I kind of over what and it's a bizarre way of doing things and tell you to try and start trouble with anybody losing themselves and they're screaming that they're going to do stuff it's kind of horrifying it's too loud it's too much and it's ridiculous if you're going to just sit there and challenge me to a fight cuz we do a concert I don't want to do the concert doesn't make any sense

Bg

It's not really what I'm up to and I guess I do a little nuts in the movie and there's no real great reason for it and everybody is hassling me and I'll tell you what if you have anything people just start bothering you but really this guy Trump has those guys doing it regardless and all over the place and endlessly they're giving orders and instructions to harass people to death for real. Trump tells them to harass him until he drops and he keeps on telling people of his about me and you BJ and saying we're super resilient can't be stopped and I like Superman I want his head on a stick for what he's doing and saying and I should have it people say the guy is a useless nutcase and he's throwing us off the same several times and there's no way in Earth that he would take these facilities he's such a jackass he took all her stuff and it's all split up no we don't have anything with he does now we're going to go take it from him and he's a moron about it it says all sorts of dumb things I've never had a worse experience in my life and no way is this kid next door to blame what does moronic assholes doing he is completely out of line with all the rules I want what I'm dead and this guy next door wants him dead. We have to do research on why he's still here. Right now there are groups going after his cashes and stashes and she's ones too foreigners are up and he's still a huge brightly lit a-hole. He says he's stupid and he is stupid but anyway it's very strange and he is an odd sense of humor and he is a sick person who likes to mess with people so I could be thinking every capturing stuff or delusional about who it is and smiling and saying it sounds like him then it starts tiring and trying to harm people so we need to all get ready together and do something about it and we're rebels and we're harsh but this guy is nuts doesn't have any reason to do what he's doing is it he should not be arrogant and mean if he doesn't have anything to the back it up and I guess a friend might be right those dashes and cashes are what is backing it up and it's like taking a piece of someone and he's got the whole thing he says and he's saying it now so we have the solution

Sting

Olympus permission to print now

Good don't mess it up Zeus

Hera

[taeyamayang]

Welcome back!!!!

I am happy to inform you that I FINALLY READ A BOOK ON MY BOOKSHELF!!! it was a book I got from my highschool fucking YEARS ago when they were reading out books. Oh my god you should’ve seen me on those days, I’d get piles of piles of PILES of books and struggle to bring them on the bus back home. My backpack was STUFFED to the brim and my teacher let me borrow a reusable plastic bag to carry the rest lol. One year the same teacher gave me some of her books from her classroom and I put them all in my locker, which you think is a safe space for them but NO. So towards the end of the year I was really struggling with my health so the school emptied out my locker when school ended and put all my stuff into a plastic bag and my mom picked it up. When I finally got the stuff from my locker tHE STAFF AT THE SCHOOL TOOK ALL MY BOOKS TO THE LIBRARY!!!!! THEY THOUGHT IT WAS THEIRS!!!! oh I was PISSED. The kicker is that HALF OF MY TEACHERS BOOKS THAT SHE GAVE ME WHERE WEEDED OUT BOOKS FROM THE LIBRARY IN THE FIRST PLACE. So I emailed people in the library to see if I could get them back, but the thing is….I didn’t remember what the titles were. It has been weeks since I got them from her and I had bigger things going on then. So I did get get my books. UNTIL! the end of the NEXT year when they were weeding them out again and when I went to the library to print something I found them amongst other weeded out books!!! I was so happy!!! I ran Into my teachers room like 🏃‍♂️💨 “I NEED A BAG!!!” She was like 🧍‍♀️???? Ok? Lmao she was used to my shenanigans by then LOLOL and o got my books back!!! Yay! A little random story time lol.

I wish I could write more. I’m so fucking busy with everything and never feel like I have time to exist smh. I have a whole ass list of things I want to do and reading and writing is at the top of it. I still have an entire Pokémon game that I’ve had for like a year now that I haven’t touched ugh. It doesn’t help that I’m always tired too. I recently went to the doctor and he told me that all the physical problems I’ve been having for years are all connected somehow because of my nerves and since it’s a “functional” disease I was diagnosed with(? Im not holding my breath at this point) there’s not much I can do besides take meds. It put me in a sort of funk and I’m trying my best to get back on my grind, but it’s not the easiest yknow?

But! I have been writing a little! And I did not forget the prompt you gave me (the one that blossomed from the stories of me getting hit with balls in gym lmao) I’m in the progress in writing a little Kuroo Drabble, but the thing is I can never finish a paragraph without rewriting it all immediately. I can’t even get my ideas down!! It’s my toxic trait smh.

I’m glad I described your relationship with religion well! I was afraid I was getting a little too close for comfort especially since religion is such a sensitive topic. Ok I’m Ngl I was afraid I offended you or something but I had to remind myself like “pea has social anxiety too! Sending responses can be scary!!! Just bc your anxiety makes you feel obligated to respond asap doesn’t mean everyone else with anxiety does!!!” lol. Also my anxiety loves to screw me with the fact that I often say the wrong thing- most of the time, I mean something else but it comes off different. This leaves me in a constant fear that I offended people, which is fun at parties, yknow? But fr, I’m glad my words reached you. I have a hard time speaking and getting my point out physically, my adhd goes brrrrrrr, and my anxiety and speech issues don’t fucking help either smh I think everything at once and none of it comes out right). but I’m glad my words can come across to you right in text form lol.

This next part sounds weird but I have a point so stick with me here. I honestly think that people don’t really think about how much words can effect others and inspire people. We use them and throw them around like they don’t have any weight but don’t always realize what they can mean. I feel like I sound like an anti bullying PSA but I gOT A POINT I PROMISE. People use words as ways to get by in the day but I live for the moments where we break past the barriers of small talk and say something that really impacts each other and makes them think and feel. When we let words have weight instead of just being things we use and dispose of later on. But since people are afraid of being vulnerable that never happens. That’s why books are so important, and thats why I wanna write. When you read books you become a part of the story and you are able to take words in without it being personal enough (like in real life) where you feel uncomfortable and vulnerable, but they are personal enough to stick with you and make you stop and go “well, shit.” In awe, of course. LOLOL I hope you get what I mean and it wasn’t TOO deep and serious. But the point of the story is that I’m glad I said something meaningful to you, I don’t always feel like my words are really always heard or interpreted right and it’s very reassuring when they are. Also, if I didn’t make it abundantly clear before LOLOL that’s why I love writing. Now if I can actually GET MYSELF TO WRITE A PARAGRAPH THAT WOULD BE NICE 😭 ( that was laughing but also crying in pain emoji btw)

Oof that was a long paragraph, but anyways Interaction day???? That’s fucking weird. Like that was the whole purpose? Just interacting with the opposite gender? And they made you give each other pillows?????? I feel like if anyone else told me this I would be like “bullshit” but maybe this is common in schools in Asia? Or was it just your school?? Isn’t this the same school that you said was all prim and proper??? I don’t know what else to say besides “?????” Because what was the purpose???? Especially if you were told to date after Uni? OMG I JUST THOUGHT HOW WEIRD IT WAS ESPECIALLY SINCE THEY GO SO FAR TO PREVENT RELATIONSHIPS, BUT WHAT IF THEY DID THAT AS LIKE A DETERRANT? LIKE TO MAKE SURE YOU DONT “TURN GAY”???? I literally can’t think of another reason they would do that. Especially with the pillows? Like what else could it be referencing besides sex? And I found that especially weird since I know America is very “laid back” when it comes to social rules and norms compared to other countries, but teen pregnancy and sex in schools has always been kinda taboo. Like some teens have sex, some don’t,-which is completely normal. I know American tv shows make teen sex sound so common but honestly who has time for that????? The thing is no matter how much sex is portrayed in media or irl, American schools don’t want ANY OF IT. Like Sex Ed in America SUCKS especially if you ain’t cishet and some schools don’t even have that. Some books even mentioning sex are banned??? Because high schoolers don’t know what sex is, yeah sure. Also for school trips and stuff the boys and girls are ALWAYS separated so there is no chance of any “hanky panky” or anything. So the whole gifting pillows thing is especially odd to me.

Ok so just to clairify, since I know I referenced middle school before and middle school, or jr high looks different around the world, when I saw middle school I mean 6-8th grade or 11-14 years old. Most elementary schools are kindergarten-5th or 5-11 years old. Some elementary schools go until the fourth grade and leaves the fifth grade to the middle school but I feel like most are just kindergarten through fifth. My first day of middle school, I made a friend who had a boyfriend. I thought it was crazy since we aren’t even teens yet but then I found out that having relationships in middle school isn’t uncommon? Hell my little sister had a girlfriend for like a MONTH in eighth grade at 14, and they hated each other at the end of it. The thing is, relationships are hard, EVEN FOR ADULTS. Like I mentioned, people don’t like to be vulnerable because they are afraid of being hurt and everyone is on different wavelengths on what they want or expect in relationships. Not everyone wants or expects the same thing and a lot of the time it gets messy. Especially when it comes to sex. Not all relationships have sex and not all relationships know how to function with sex. By that I mean sex is a very big and heavy thing. Emotionally and physically. Not everyone feels the same way about it and it can hard to talk about with your s/o responsibly. And again, this is for ADULTS. You can probably imagine how hard it is for kids to distinguish what a relationship is, especially balancing in the sex part that everyone expects to have in relationships and that they are oh so curious about. Remember when I mentioned that I read a book from my bookshelf? Well the book was called Unslut and it was literally the authors middle school diary with side notes on the side with her giving more details on each entry. She was brandished a slut in middle school when she was coerced into sexual acts and or sexually assaulted. Most of the time it was sexual assault actually, but they were so young they didn’t really know. The author and a lot of other kids hopped from “relationship” (or just like holding hands in the hallway and sending flirty messages with the occasional kiss) to relationship, breaking up by phone calls and passed notes. And all of that took place in the late 90s, so you can imagine how it is now with the internet and such.

I love how you called you friends babe and such just to confuse people, honestly? That’s iconic. I LOVE HOW YOU WERE LIKE “HELL NAW, iM THE ORIGINAL GAY HERE. ME!” Everyone was thinking she turned you gay lmaoooooo. Break those stereotypes!!!

I’m glad I didn’t go to your school bc my ADHD ass looked eVERYWHERE during tests. Like if I really try to think and remember something for a paper or any task I’m working on independently I often look around. Never at another persons test, our desks were often separated anyways. But even if I tried to (which I didn’t) I couldn’t bc I have horrible fucking eyesight 😅. I couldn’t see shit even with my glasses on. I just KNOW I’d get in trouble for “cheating”

I actually bought another pair like six months later and still have them in my closet, but the thing is, even though my shoe size hasn’t really changed since 13 or so, I still have big ass feet 😭. I’m like a size ten in womens and I didn’t buy these ones in Chinatown, I bought them online and they were smaller and my feet barely fit and my heels touch the flat of the shoe EXACTLY. They don’t really fit 😢😢😢. I do sometimes miss it there, even though it was super fucking chaotic, just because I knew everyone and everyone knew me. We were all genuine and we were able to be authentic to each other. When I started high school not long after everyone was hidden to themselves and not really genuine with each other. This isn’t really bad, especially since it’s not a school of like 100 and everyone can’t be as close knit, but it got really overwhelming sometimes. I still wish for that familiarity sometimes with making friends and being social since meeting new people and making friends is hard, but my time there really did bring me out of my shell, nonetheless. Before I left, I actually got a composition notebook, decorated it and passed it around for people to write goodbye notes in it. I still look at it from time to time when I need a pick me up and it’s full of encouraging notes. I actually did go and visit a few times and donated clothes, and it was a very strange experience. I saw it as an outsider, but still with familiarity. I actually saw Daia when I went back and I gave her long hugs. The middle school I went to after was a special needs school and two of the staff from the residential also worked there too and I took a picture with them as I graduated middle school and they shared it with my friends there and they were so proud of me 🥺. Oh! I also saw Daia and Kayla at the Walmart I go to and was SHOOK. They were shopping for clothes and they decided to go to the Walmart closer to me instead of the town over since the boys dorm was shopping there and I got to catch up with them and take a few selfies. I’m still sorta in contact with a few people, including Kayla via Instagram but others I just have to really hope they are doing well, like Daia and the one friend I called my sister. And now I want pie too lol.

I do wanna watch Our Father, I watched the trailer and it’s very interesting!!!! I love buzzfeed unsolved and some of my favorite ones are the true crime, unless it’s when Shane and Ryan are exploring the supernatural, then that takes the cake. Speaking of true crime, idk if I mentioned this but the other day when I was working on something on my laptop and listening to a true crime YouTuber they were like this case takes place in (MY TOWN) and then she started describing it. I was like wait a damn minute and had to rewind like three different times. The thing is, my town is pretty big and well off. It’s not exactly unknown but it’s not known well enough for people outside my state to mention it. It’s also a very affluent town with people moving her to retire and raise families and such so you don’t really hear bad things about this place. EsPECIALLY IF ITS A DOUBLE MURDER THAT ALSO TAKES PLACE IN THE SURROUNDING TOWN. LiKE WHAT THE FUCK. It wasn’t too long ago, I think it was like the early 2000s? I didn’t live here then but still. It was trippy. I’m used to hearing things that happen closer to the big city in my state or maybe in the same county or one close. But never IN MY TOWN.

And about the haunted home bit. I think I might’ve??? Slept in a haunted home, at least. Ok maybe not haunted per se, but let me explain. As a little girl, like very small, four year old kinda little, I would frolic around my house and sometimes speak to people that weren’t there. It wasn’t really a big deal since I was so small and just playing around and it was make believe or whatever. Until! My mom heard me giggling by myself and she asked who I was talking to. I said, “Papa Ray! He’s so funny!!!! I never met a Ray before but The thing is, my mom was super close to her grandfather, Raymond. Her family was super abusive, but he was one of the only people who really cared for her. Sadly he got sick and passed away when she was ten or so I never got to meet him…. At least as he was living. My mom was creeped tf out. That wasn’t the only time I “played with ghosts” but it’s the only one I can distinctly describe. They say little children and animals can see ghosts, yknow?

My aunt, my moms sister was the one who kept getting engaged and calling off the wedding. The boys she keeps getting involved with aren’t the greatest and every time she says she’s getting married I don’t hold my breath smh. I’m glad you had fun at the wedding tho!

I enjoy our messages too aND OMG IS MOMO A MODEL??? THAT POSE! THAT GRACE! THAT BEAUTY! ABSOLUTELY STUNNINGGGGG!!

Oh I took photos of my cats recently! I also entered a picture of Thor and it won third place!! I entered a lot of stuff and even one first place for a few but this photo was def the cutest!! I also entered the Loki pic but it didn’t win :(

But I took pictures of the cats recently, including cursed ones of them sniffing the camera (aka my fav ones) also I gave Thor a box that was too small for him and he was convinced he fit 🥺

hi i was busy, yet again 💀

it's good to here that you had finally touched your books!! and your crazy story about the school taking your books to the library tho,, why would they do that 😭 it was in your locker so it's yours why would they assume that it's the school's. idk why but i can imagine you bringing home bulky bags full with books and THAT'S heavy. back in the day, we didn't have lockers (actually we had but i attended a sadistic school so everyday we had homeworks that needs to be done so we have no choice but to bring a shit ton of academic books and notebooks one per subject home) and i also have packed lunches and a huge jug (i was dehydrated lol 💀) so imagine bringing a full backpack, my lunch, my snacks (v important), a jug and sometimes a yoga mat for p.e. SO I WAS TIRED AND LAZY BRINGING STUFF TO SCHOOL AND BACK also, i didn't like books back then because we were forced to read and like it. KUDOS TO YOU FOR THE EFFORT 😩👌🏼

ahhh don't push yourself too hard especially on days you feel tired. take small steps each day and it is enough :) OH I'M EXCITED FOR THE KUROO DRABBLE I'M SO HYPED OMFG LIKE LITERALLY SMILING LIKE A DAMMNED FOOL RN!! YOU SEE i know it may be hard but try to write all down without editing a single thing LIKE IT WILL BE HARD but you gotta trust the process. if you want to, i can help you with it! conceptualizing, writing, or editing IM SO SO EXCITED!! i get what you mean ith words being disposable nowadays, and that's where our love for books, writing, and reading becomes more apparent. being part of story is one thing but writing your own story, fueled by your experiences and perspective on life is something else. that's why i think on my part, writing is therapeutic. it has become my stress reliever ever since the pandemic started and shit stirred in uni. so, one day i hope to read your works too!! i'd like to know how you see the world, how words insipired you. I'M WAITING!!

oh nooo don't worry about it!! even if you accidentally said the wrong thing i still keep an open mind ya know language barrier and all that so don't worry, really. i'm like the most patient you'll ever meet lmaooo my irls know me for my patience. i take time to reply (bc of low social energy-had to deal with irls and online lol) but it doesn't mean i'm offended and i'm not the ghoster type so if ever i need to clear things up with you, i'lll say/ask it nicely SO DON'T WORRY! i'm a safe person. you can be yourself when talking to me :)

i feel like since i replied to this super duper late i feel like you may have forgotten the context (we had school interaction with the opposite sex and give each other pillows) AND YES YOU'RE RIGHT it wasnt outright said but before the school had issues with the students turning "gay" so it wasn't said outright that it was for that purposed BUT IT WAS IMPLIED. i know the gifts are weird i think i have them donated to a charity or smth LMAO. really??? im sorry but through media i always have this idea that american schools are open to sex like if you're in hs/middle school and is a virgin, you are humiliated/emphasized by your lack of experience

OKAY GOOD OMG thanks for clearing things ups regarding middle school and such becaue all this time i thought middle school is from 1st grade to idk (i had no idea honestly) here we call kindergarten as pre school, 1st grade to 6th grade as elementary school, then 7th grade to 12th grade as highschool but HS is sub divided to two: 7th to 10th grade called junior high school and the last two years are senior high school (but in our language-the students- 10th grade: sophomore, 11th grade: junior, 12th grade: senior). i think it's ironic how you started talking about relationships, your first friend in middle school having a boyfriend, and the sex talk in a relationship because...i'm actually thinking of breaking things off with an s/o FSNEVEKEBS I AGREE WITH YOU HOW YOU ILLUSTRATED THE COMPLICATIONS OF A RELATIONSHIP BECAUSE IT GETS MESSY i for one do not fancy labels cos you see when you put a label on a relationship you're somehow bound to concede with the societal norms of dating (ya see im not clingy, value my personal space, not a chatter, i dont flex on social media--literally the opposite of what i write (kidding, i express my feelings differently. im a head over heart type which i recently found is rare)) AND I JUST HATE IT YOU KNOW how you are forced to date just like how everyone else does!! even with being intimate like physically i just feel... ugh idk man it's hard to earn my trust and affection and that could be a me problem but im gsmehs (sorry i ended up ranting to you) overall relationships is a complicated route to take and i think for the youngesters they might find it cheesy the first time but when you've dated a few and been scarred i'm just- 💀 it's not simple SO I GET WHAT YOU MEAN!!

wait, before we go to the topic of your school you mentioned your shoe size and im surprised?? DO YOU KNOW WHAT MY SHOE SIZE IS IN THE US?? FREAKING 5!! it's actually embarrassing lmao but a fun fact! do you know that smaller feet means luckier in our culture? lol aside from having a short height i relatively have small feet (cos people of the same height as i have bigger feet) so the oldies in our family would always comment how i'm born lucky since my feet are small. i don't feel lucky bro lol anyway back to your school. it's nice that you have a mini memento from your old schoolmates!! you can always go back to the composite notebook and reread their encouraging notes from to time. it's good that you look back to the past with a warm heart AND YOU MET WITH DAIA AND OTHERS!! THAT'S SO COOL did you guys catch up? remained in contact after the meeting or not?

A MURDER IN YOUR TOWN?? HECKKKK that must be creepy!! was the case solved? what happened to the victim/s? OMG THAT'S INTERESTING but also terrifying 🥶 i never heard of a case that took place in my city nor in my country. i think there aren't much murderers here which is a good thing bc as much as its an interesting topic to tell it's downright frightening. i think the closest famous cases i know are from japan but even though i live approximately near it, it's still too far to harm me heh. OMG YOU COULD SEE GHOSTS!! yeah, i heard of that saying!! kids and animals could see ghosts maybe bc they have pure hearts/souls? idk honestly but speaking of haunted houses, i live at my grandma's house this has been up since AGES ago so it has an old style to it and many have died in this house. that's why we have experiences here that make us doubt if ghosts are indeed real (i think i have told you about that right? we could hear voices of a family member calling from upstairs only to find out that the said family member went out? OR HAVE I NOT? I DONT REMEMBER SORRY GSNDBENE)

YOUR CATS!! OMG I LOVE LOVE LOVE SEEING YOUR BABIES!! THE SNIFFLING YOUR CAMERA POSES AND THE LOOKING OUT THE WINDOWS ARE MY ABSOLUTE FAVES!! gosh you could probably tell that im a big cat person ugh

i feel the same way! i like hearing from you tho it takes me eons to reply but i look forward to your replies everytime i check my inbox (it takes me awhile cos sometimes it gets swamped by asks or reqs)

OH BTW!! before i wrap this up, you're one of the first persons i tell you about this but i'm planning on opening a sticker business!! i'm almost done with the artworks and i can't wait to show you them next time i write to you... or should i post one here?....hm... MAYBE I SHOULD OMG it's genshin so you might not know him but this is a chibi zhongli i made and some artifacts and primogems i made :) im new on digital arts so i'd like to know what you think!! (the copyright thingy may be annoying im sorry!! tumblr is a funny place and i dont want my art to get stolen by someone before i could release them as my products 😭)

thank you love for taking your time in waiting and talking with me. i enjoy our conversations:)

[thebashfulbotanist]

Mushroom Rules and Taboos

Mushroom season is in full swing! There are a few topics one should always avoid when talking with mushroom hunters. I’m a moderator on a mushroom identification group of about 30,000 people, and if you start talking about one of these topics, your post or comment will be deleted! Here are a few rules one should follow when talking with fellow mushroom hunters (and yes, I know these sound like a cross between Karen complaints and fae rules). 

1. Never ask for someone’s mushrooms spot. Asking for someone’s mushroom spot is tantamount to declaring you’re going to steal all of their mushrooms and leave them with nothing but severed stipes! This is very rude and hurtful. If you really need a hint as to where to find certain species, instead ask something like, “at what elevation in what mountain range did you find these?” That will allow the forager to give you a general answer, and won’t force them to give up their secrets. A kind forager will respond to, “Where is your mushroom spot?” with something like, “400m, Cascade foothills.” A less forgiving forager might stuff a wad of moss down your throat.

2. Do not argue about or even mention “cut versus pluck.” Whether you cut a mushroom from the ground with a knife or pluck it with your fingers has no significant effect whatsoever on the health of the mushroom population or how many mushrooms will come up the next year. There is a common misconception that cutting mushrooms with a knife is less damaging, but this is untrue. Cutting and plucking both don’t cause any harm! You’re just removing a fruiting body, and the real body of the mushroom is formed by mycelia underground. People feel really strongly about cut versus pluck, even if they know the different methods have no real effect on the fungi. Some people prefer to cut so others know they were there, or to keep their baskets clean, while others prefer to pluck to leave less visible debris in the forest, or to take more edible fungus. Either way: it should never be brought up. It’s a bannable offense in some groups - think, “We! Do not! Talk! About! The! Orangutan!”

3. Do not scold people for picking mushrooms they do not know the species of. This is called “pick shaming” in mushroom hunter communities. Sometimes, well-meaning folks will scold people for picking mushrooms they don’t know because they think it’s “wasteful” to pick a mushroom if they do not intend to eat it. This comes from a good place, since they’re obviously environmentally-conscious, but it also shows that they don’t know much about fungi. They are not plants! Revisit point 2: picking or cutting mushrooms has no effect whatsoever on the health of the fungus. More importantly, a lot of mushrooms need spore prints and a view of the entire specimen, from the base to the top of the pileus, to properly identify. In fact, to identify many toxic Amanita species, you must look at the volva at the base of the stipe, which requires pulling out the entire specimen. New foragers should indeed pick mushrooms to identify them - this is how they should learn. 

4. This is more of a pet peeve, but: do not ask “is this edible?”  or  “is this magic?” before you know what mushroom species you’re working with. Few things irritate me and other mushroom experts as much as seeing a picture of a toxic mushroom with the question, “Edible?” but no request for id. There are three reasons for this: First, I don’t want to be responsible for whether you eat a mushroom and get sick from it. I can tell you what I think it is, and there’s a 99.99% chance I’m correct, but if I’m either wrong or you have a particular sensitivity to that species (and many people do to common species like Laetiporus conifericola), I don’t want to get the blame for “telling you it was fine to eat.” Many mushroom hunters make a point of giving only the identification and letting the requester research edibility on their own for this reason. Second, me telling you if something is edible is not helping you learn to identify or hunt mushrooms, it’s just giving you a cheap way to repeatedly stick Agaricus foundinmyyardicus  on the forum and have someone else id it for you. Third, and more importantly, why are you putting things in your mouth if you don’t know what they are?  WHY?! What is wrong with you?! Mushroom maggots are also edible, but you would not eat them! 

5. Do not make unverified claims of mushroom medicinal use or, worse, offer medical advice unless you’re a trained and licensed professional. You can say, “There are some studies I found in this peer reviewed journal that indicate Trametes versicolor might be promising for such-and-such use,” but do not say stuff like, “Turkey tails cure cancer!” or, “Susan, I hear you had the flu. You should drink Ganoderma oregonense tea to boost your immune system!” Don’t risk poisoning someone, messing with their medication, or spreading pseudoscience by suggesting they use a mushroom for medicinal purposes unless you’re a trained medical professional. A forager who has casually read some journal articles is not a trained medical professional!  

6. Don’t mock folks for asking for confirmation of an “easy to identify” mushroom species. You’d be surprised by how many people misidentify species that are as “easy” to identify as Cantharellus formosus. I would much rather forty people post chanterelles and one accidentally post Hygrophoropsis aurantiaca while asking for confirmation than forty one people blindly eat their mushroom haul, thinking they’re chanterelles, only for one to get sick on Hygrophoropsis aurantiaca. Be responsible, and remember you were a beginner once, too. 

7. In identification groups, don’t give a definite identification unless you’re 100% sure of the mushroom someone is asking for an id of. If you’re unsure, say something like, “Looks like Laccaria bicolor,” or, “Compare to Amanita augusta.” Don’t say, “That’s Xerocomellus zelleri” with certainty unless you’re willing to bet on your mother’s life it’s Xerocomellus zelleri. This usually isn’t a big deal, but there was a bit of a kerfuffle on one of the mushroom forums a few years back when someone said, “That’s a matsutake!” about a deadly Amanita smithiana, and then proceeded to argue with David Arora, a legend among mycologists and the author of identification books like Mushrooms Demystified and All that the Rain Promises and More, upon being corrected. 

8. When identifying mushrooms, always use scientific names. Common names are colorful and easy to remember, but different species might have the same common name, or other people might be unfamiliar with the common name you’re using. Some species don’t even have common names! It’s totally okay to give both a scientific name and a common name, though, if the common name exists. 

[thunder-mountain-railroad]

My Journey To Awakening

Yeah I'm Codependent. I've been codependent for most of my life. I'm 34 years old. I'm a male who was raised by a single mother who was, and still is, an alcoholic.

Maybe someone will be able to relate to my story so far. I'm writing this here instead of on paper so maybe someone can relate. Am I rescuing strangers on the internet? Maybe. I rescue and caretake and I'm realizing it doesn't go away once you are aware of it and give it a label.

I started seeing a therapist because I was having trouble focusing at work, and cutting down on alcohol, nicotine and caffeine - All which I think I abused to get me through each day. I have been seeing the therapist for 5 months so far, and we have spoke about ADHD and just recently in the last months Codependency. He said adult children of alcoholics either become the alcoholic or a caretaker. Well, I've found I'm a caretaker and rescuer who struggles with their own alcohol abuse. Not full blown alcoholism but it does have a pull on me and a negative effect on my life. I abuse alcohol to make me feel better I think, maybe numb and maybe not care. I did 6 months sobriety last year and 6 months of drinking. A truly scientific approach. Something is telling me that I prefer sobriety and haven't drank since new years, so 8 days. One problem at a time.

Since starting therapy, I felt like I was behaving strangely. I actually describe it to my friends as my "mania". I bought a ton of new clothes, actually bought a ton of stuff that I wanted. I'm still buying things that I want, when I want. I started doing things that I want, when I want I think. I started some crafting projects. I started working out, and sticking to it for the most part. I bought a bunch of tools and actually started a small tool shop in my basement for projects and crafting. Started a bunch of projects actually. I described it as doing things that spark joy. Following what is sparking joy and not being concerned with how others or the world will see it. More on this later.

I'm reading through Codependency No More by the recommendation of my Therapist, which I think a lot of people have read and related to, as I'm doing more research on Codependency. Initially I was afraid to read more after I started. I knew this book and information would be life changing as it struck very, very close to home. Reading through it, it was like someone had summarized my life and feelings of how I see the world into print. Reading it I felt like eyes were wide and my jaw was on the floor in shock. I'm still reading through it, on Chapter 16 currently.

I had a fake breakthrough and I think a real breakthrough soon after and I'll describe them. I actually do the exercises in this book because I couldn't believe how relevant the information was. I never do the exercises in books, but I felt compelled. Chapter 11, like the bankruptcy, "Have a love affair with yourself". At the end of the chapter, it asks you to write about yourself, so I did. This is what I wrote.

Well if you told me I have low self esteem and low self worth, I wouldn't believe you before reading this book. But yes, I have low self esteem and low self worth.

It's confusing because I know I have value. I'm a good person, I do good work and am a good friend, husband, son and employee. However I do not treat myself with the same love / thoughts/ fuel that I put out into the world. I have needs thoughts and desires that I need to be nurtured and met. I'm a person and that person deserves just as much thought and attention that everyone else gets. I need to be self preserving and selfish in the most noblest way.

I thought this was a breakthrough and maybe it is because I'm recognizing I have needs and should treat myself better. I continued on reading, then I had an 'Oh shit' moment.

I think my real breakthrough came next. In the above response, where I describe how I know I'm a good person, because I'm a good friend, husband, son and employee. This is the crux.

I fundamentally describe my self worth as the value I provide in my relationships.

For me, this was fucking huge. I realized this and went back in my notes and wrote things I thought about myself. "I'm strong", "I do what I say I will", "I'm smart" etc. I described myself as I see it, and I think the way other people see me as well.

I imagine a dark room, with an overhead spot light pointing to the center of the floor. All the people I love and are close to are there in a circle, my friends, mom, wife etc. Everyone is happy and smiling. There is one person though, who is like a stranger. They are smiling too. That person is me, and who I really am in reality. That person deserves the same love, respect and care that he gives to others. That person cares a little too much about how he is perceived. That person needs to let go, and be true to who they really are. That person needs to follow their instincts, and say no when they want to. He will still be loved.

For me this was when I think I realized what self worth and self esteem actually is. I had a broad concept of it but it really hit me then. I have lost a sense of self honestly. I have been second guessing my instincts and repressing my feelings for so long that I don't really know who I am. I have been people pleasing, perceiving needs and wants for so long, I don't know what I actually want. The problem is I know I am fundamentally fucked up and I want to be normal so I don't trust my gut and instincts. I do what I think I should do as opposed to what I feel like doing. Again with the "shoulds". "Shoulds" have run my life.

I've been fortunate and have a good life, good relationships with a lot of friends and I think a good relationship with my wife. I'm so fucking hard on myself that I'm actually pretty successful in my career. There have been some fights with my wife since I've started therapy, because I have been putting my needs before hers and others for the first time in our relationship, which has been like 17 years or something, married almost 9. I'm still struggling with expressing myself and my needs. One problem at a time.

I know I'm going to change, and I think I know who I really am. I've seen glimpses of that person, and I like what I see. I think my wife will also love the person I really am. I hope I'll still love her too.

If you read this and can relate and it helps you in some way, then I've written this for a reason. But thats wrong. The reason I've written this is for myself. This helps me, to write things out. To talk about my story. My codependency is telling me I'm writing this to help other people, but I need to do it for me. Maybe I should write privately so I know I'm not rescuing. Yeah I think I need to do that.

I wish you well in your recovery.

[afoolnottoloveu]

maybe i’m imagining things ♡

Summary: You don’t really feel like you belong at the BAU just yet (WC: 2.1k) {Masterlist <3}

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gender neutral!Reader

TW: smoking, mentions of death, swearing, mentions of alcohol

A/N: i dont smoke so theres highkey gonna b smth wrong with the description,,, but it just felt right okay, also it was a song reference as well >:(( also, this is for lucy’s fic contest! congrats on 3000 sweetheart <3

Song Pairing: Why Am I Like This? - Orla Gartland

--

You could remember the feeling, how it started that night at the bar. Despite the conversations of your new team swirling around you, you felt like a stranger. You didn’t think much of it at first, you just thought you were imagining things. You’ll grow into it, you told yourself. 

After exactly a year at the BAU, you still couldn’t decisively say you were part of the family. As cases came and went, you felt the same. An outsider. A guest living with a family. You couldn’t blame them, really. As you should, right? They weren’t like this with any of the other newbies; it was you who intruded.

The last case felt no different. It was a family annihilator, and all you could think about were the victims. Unbeknownst to the team, except Aaron, you knew almost exactly what the family of the victims were going through. Your feelings were taking a toll on you, and everything from the jet ride to heading back to the office was a complete daze. Your mind was somewhere far off in the distance, only snapped back by the soft touch of JJ placing her hand on your shoulder before you could walk through the glass doors.

“Are you coming tonight?” She asked as if you already knew of what was happening tonight.

“Uh, w-what’s tonight?”

“We’re going to-”

“O’keefe’s!” Penelope squealed, running out of her batcave with the clicks of heels following.

“Oh, um-” you hesitated, but you remembered how badly you wanted to be a part of their family, and a drink didn’t sound too bad at the moment, “yeah! Yeah, I’ll just meet you guys there alright? M’gonna just grab some stuff.”

“We’ll see you down there!” Penelope bubbled, before sweeping everyone else into the elevator. You gave a small smile and wave, catching Spencer’s gaze  just as the doors shut. Maybe you had learned to hide it well after all these years, but for profilers, they really had no idea what was going on inside your head.

You couldn’t help but glance up at Aaron’s office through the glass doors. Everyday you debated if the BAU was really for you, every day for a year, now. Not knowing if this was a mistake or not, you slipped through the bullpen and made a beeline for his office. Relatively quickly, you found the papers you were looking for after a quick search through his cabinets. You didn’t want to have the conversation with Aaron, but he was the only person on this floor with them. You shoved them in your purse, just in case. In case of what? You didn’t know either.

- 

You tried to enjoy yourself, you really did, but your head was just filled to the brim with thoughts you couldn’t bear. The fuzzy, stuffy feeling of the bar would usually help you blend right in, but right now it made you sick. You excused yourself from the table, not like you were part of any of the conversations that were happening anyways, and stepped out.

Through your work blouse and slacks, the October wind nipped at your skin. You opened your purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Your habit started young, smoking being one of the only things that could effectively calm you. Your dad was a smoker, but he really tried his best to stop. He wouldn’t be proud of you for following in his footsteps, but so be it.

Placing the cigarette between your lips and lifting your lighter to the end, you failed to notice someone approaching from behind you.

“6 minutes.” 

Startled, you fumbled and dropped your cigarette from your lips and it hit the concrete, causing you to loudly mutter a curse. You whipped around to cuss out whoever made you drop it, but you’re met with the same eyes you saw before the elevator closed.

“Jesus Christ, Spencer. I just lit that!” His expression doesn’t change, so you rummage through your purse pulling out the box of cigarettes once again. “And I know what that means, 6 minutes off my life for every cigarette I light.” Faced towards the street, you tried to light it, but failed. As the wind kept blowing out the tiny flame, you kept trying. “To be frank, 6 minutes isn’t a whole lot of time in the grand scheme of things. It’s like, one less shower. I could live with that I think.”

Still not hearing a reaction from him, you turn his way, naturally. He seems to be finding your purse very interesting, and for a moment you think, is pretty boy gonna rob me?, but you finally realize he can see the bold print title and FBI logo on the papers that you grabbed sticking out from your purse.

“Why?” is all he asked, his voice dripping in devastation. You look up to meet his eyes and there’s a gloss over them that you know too well. “Why would you wanna transfer? The BAU is-”

“-the crown jewel of the FBI. I’ve heard it.” You take the cigarette out of your mouth to reply. Unable to meet his eyes anymore,  you fixed your eyes on the street once again, but you minded your voice, careful to not let it crack nor reveal too much, “I can’t explain it, Spencer.”

“I think you can, but you don’t want to.” The hurt in his voice was still evident and you had to wonder, why was it there in the first place? He doesn’t really care, his family’s inside the bar.

You brought the joint back to your lips and tried to light it one last time, and you successfully did so, inhaling the smoke and letting it encase your lungs like a blanket. “It’s just-” A long pause lingers in the air before you come to your senses, removing the cigarette from your lips. Blowing out a cloud, the wind carried the gray smoke down the sidewalk, with your eyes trailing. “You know what? No, nevermind. It’s nothing, Spence. I might not even transfer.”

“You wouldn’t grab the papers unless you were seriously considering it, Y/N,” he huffed, intent on finding out the real reason, “Come on, you were gonna have to tell us at some point. Why not start small? Why are you leaving us?” You were getting frustrated from the simple fact that he was right, and suddenly you were very sick of the cigarette you were holding. 

“Fine Spencer, if you wanna know so goddamn bad then I’ll just tell you! I just- the BAU isn’t for me! And it’s not the job, it’s- it’s you! It’s all of you! I can’t be in the same room with all of you for anything other than a debriefing without feeling like I don’t fucking belong! You guys are a family, and I still feel like it’s my day one. If you guys can do this job so well without me, then why shouldn’t- why should I even be here?” You didn’t know when the tear slipped, but they just kept coming, and you were over this cigarette, throwing it to the ground and stomping on it a little too hard.

There was a silence. A cold, heavy silence, filled with nothing more than the gentle breeze, a couple cars passing in the distance and leaves falling. You suppressed your sobs as much as you could and wiped your face repeatedly. 

Oh god, you thought, did I really just say that? Fuck, fuck, shit, why am I like this-

“If I asked you to stay,” His voice was soft- you knew your response wasn’t the one he was expecting. All you could do was glance at him, not knowing where he was going with this. “Would you?”

“What’re you talking about?” The words were a whisper, you wouldn’t be surprised if he thought it was just the wind. You genuinely didn’t understand what he meant, but in your head, you had already answered his question.

“Y/N, I--I just wanna talk, okay? Can you listen? Is that alright?” His voice was comforting, and with the way you were feeling, it was music to your ears. It reminded you of the way he spoke to children, but you were just too damn exhausted to call him out on it; so you nodded, but you kept your eyes on the street in front of you, watching a taxi pass by.

“You know, when I first asked you ‘why?’ a few minutes ago, when I was saying that the BAU was the crown jewel of the FBI? Well, that wasn’t what I was going to say at all. I was gonna say that the BAU is where you belong, Y/N. We don’t only want you to stay, we need you to stay. You were the one who talked down that unsub today. You can defend yourself better than almost any of us. You treat us like family, with the coffee every Wednesday and checking on all of us regularly. We notice these things, Y/N. Do you? Because it’s almost like it’s second nature to you.”

You had to take several deep breaths before you could gather yourself enough to respond; you closed your eyes as you spoke. “Do you know why I so badly want to be so close to all of you? My- my parents were both killed by- by a sociopath. I was 15. I started smoking then. My aunt took me in and I lived with my cousins. They were closer to each other than to me, though. I- I don’t know, I had a family, I guess. I mean, my aunt and her two daughters were my family, but- I don’t know, I’m not making sense.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know that at all, I thought they were your sisters. I get it. Well, I don’t, but I know what you’re trying to say. You didn’t have one as a teenager, but you have one now. Everyone inside of that bar thinks of you as their family. I know you don’t see it, but I can assure you that they do.”

You forgot your eyes were closed. They opened to the touch of Spencer’s hand on your arm, and there he was, standing in front of you. You wanted to cry more, but the sight of Spencer in front of you made you smile and your heart swell. You knew every word that left his mouth was genuine, full of love and understanding. You rushed forward and hugged him, burying your face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and cradled your head. It was almost funny, you were sure this was the most you had touched the germaphobe like, ever.

Into his sweater you sniffled and mumbled, “What about you Spencer?”

He pulled away from the hug, both of you still clinging to the other, but enough to have to look in each other’s eyes. He tilted his head as if he were asking what you meant.

“Do you- are we family?”

His only response was an airy chuckle and a swift, soft peck to your forehead. Huh, that’s new. You weren’t saying you didn’t like it though, no, not at all. He pulled you back into the hug and said into your hair “We don’t have to talk about that right now. But honestly? I think of you as something else, Y/N/N.”

And that was okay. The warmth of his breath on your hair and his sweater wrapping you neatly like a gift, it was more than okay.

-

Spencer led you back into the bar after you had fixed your makeup. Luckily, the wind actually helped to dry your tears pretty quickly. The team was gathered around the table, blocking something from your sight. As the two of you approached, you heard Penelope say “Oh, oh oh! They’re here! Y/N’s here!”

The rest of the team turns to you and in front of you, JJ is holding out a red velvet cupcake with a candle in it. “Happy one year!” The team cheered as a chorus. Your eyes widened and your face lit up. Your shock rendered you almost speechless.

“How’d you remember? Oh my gosh, you guys!” you smiled. With everyone egging you on, you blew the candle out, causing an array of cheers and claps.

“Honestly, some of us didn’t. But you know who did remember?” Morgan commented with a wink. You turned to see Spencer scratching his neck, smiling down at you, the look making your heart swell just a lil’ bit more. 

You grabbed his arm and pulled him over with you to the table, the team clearing a spot for the two of you. Conveniently, shots for everyone had already been poured out, readily awaiting your consumption. You grabbed the shot glass and raised it towards the middle of the table.

“To family,” you beamed. Maybe I was just imagining things.

--

Taglist (send an ask to be added): @prettyboy-reid @eusuntgroot @veraiconcos​ (congrats on 3k again!)

[sanstropfremir]

I'm curious for your take on a fashion trend that always has been hanging out in the wings, but seems to have really taken off in K-Pop in particular the last few years.

It seems like every way I look these days, we're getting hit with luxury "looks" that are legit just the luxury brand printed all over a bland or non-innovative item. This definitely isn't new (it makes me think of the prevalence of those stupid - and stupidly expensive - Abercrombie & Fitch t-shirts in the US back in the 2000s), but I feel like it's now seeping into K-Pop album concept photos and stage outfits in addition to just their every day fashion/sponsored photo shoots. In some cases it doesn't bother me as much because its a small addition (like Sunmi's triangle Prada barrettes in some of her latest comeback photos - I don't like the barrettes, but they work because the wider concept is great) or its used unconventionally (like TxT's latest concept photos, where you can see some of the usual brands but thrown together with unconventional pieces so they feel fresh).

But in other cases, it feels like they're just phoning it in by picking luxury clothing so they can say "look, we're expensive" and calling it a day. I'd submit the examples of The Boyz in some of their latest teasers, the latest Stray Kids concept photos, and quite a few of Blackpink's albums/promotions since they all have their own brand sponsors that they stick to these days. A lot of American celebrities are guilty of this as well so its not just K-Pop, but I honestly just don't expect more from Hollywood like I do from K-Pop.

It's clear that you can have effective styling without defaulting to the luxury branding (A.C.E comes to mind immediately), and there are plenty of luxury pieces that don't have their branding all over it that often allow the same luxury feel without shoving the brand in your face. So this branded merchandise trend really ends up rubbing me the wrong way.

What are your thoughts? I think my stance is clear, but I'd love a different perspective from someone that has a lot more background in fashion, particularly stage fashion, than myself.

anon ilu i have many thoughts on this topic but i don't think i've ever mentioned it before so thank you thank you for somehow reading my single braincell and asking about it!

basically for anyone who doesn't want to read me going off about luxury branding the tldr is yes i agree, i personally don't like branding in general and luxury branding especially. i don't own a single item of clothing or accessory with an obvious/recognizable brand logo and i haven't for probably over a decade now. now let's get into some nitty gritty.

in the current fashion climate i think most of the time it's tacky to display wealth so openly and obviously and it is one of the main factors in driving the machine of fashion consumerist culture. i also think it's a weak styling choice because it only has one association: money. 99% of the time it does not contribute anything meaningful to the artistic vision of the work and it's just to brag. sm stylists pull off luxury branding better than most other groups because they tend to integrate it well into the overall aesthetics of the specific mvs, and it's usually pretty sparing. with sm they use it more as a confirmation of the quality of the sm brand than just boasting about money in general. notable examples where i think visible branding works are kun's supreme jacket in kick back, and taemin's balenciaga 2017 in day and night, because both well integrated into the aesthetics of the videos and they're also offset by other looks. i also like the styling in bambam's ribbon, because although the whole mv is designer looks, he only uses one actually logo-ed one (louis vuitton escale summer 2020), which gives a visual indication of expense to anyone who isn't familiar with fashion. the only time i can think of an idol using a brand ironically is taemin's supreme instagram bad bitch outfit in advice, because he's parodying a specific look.

most of the clothing from designer houses is absent of logos, with the exception of a few (lv, gucci are the main offenders). but, there is the caveat that it does tend to be the ready to wear collections that have that kind of design. (ready to wear is the stuff that is available for off the rack purchase). here's a few examples:

taemin and key in balenciaga menswear ss2018 for story of light, taemin and ten in louis vuitton menswear ss2021 for advice and paint me naked.

in my opinion there's only one house that can get away with the irony of its own branding and that's balenciaga, because they consistently do the weirdest shit you could possibly think of. they have a collaboration with crocs. no i am not joking. the shoes for their fall 2021 collection are platemail stilettos. yes like the medieval armour. they launched that collection as a video game. they recently cleared their entire instagram but prior to that they were just letting models post cryptid blurry shots with no captions. there are designers that are doing interesting things, but very rarely is it with the physical branding itself. it's difficult because like i said before, it locks the audience into an extremely specific connotation and honestly most kpop stylists are not deft enough to work around that in a truly meaningful way.

the important things to hit in any styling are colour, harmony, and silhouette. thank you for bringing up a.c.e because i would have done it anyways, because their stylist is probably the best in the business right now. i talk about the basics here (of styling and of a.c.e in particular), but anon you are correct, a.c.e uses very very little branded styling and they look great. good styling is not about looking expensive, it's about looking the best as befitting of the concept.

but here's where we come to an important point. like with most things about kpop and western pop culture as a whole, luxury branding and streetwear as a trend has been appropriated from black hiphop artists and black streetwear fashion in the 90s and 00s. it started in the hood as a reclamation of items that were meant to be 'outside their station' (luxury) and an elevation of plainclothes that were available to them. sportswear by and large was always cheaper and mass produced, in comparision to day to day wear, which used more expensive materials and had more complicated construction. and was activities based only. it wasn't until around the 1860s that sportwear even existed at all, and even then it was not what you would think of as sportwear by modern standards. there was, up until the 1980s, a pretty strict unspoken dress code that if you wanted to be taken seriously in polite (white) society, you had to dress according to the class standards at the time. (this still exists by the way, it hasn't gone away at all, especially in relation to workplaces and black/natural hair). streetwear at the time was a form of celebration of black excellence and a subversion of white society. but like all innovations by black people, it got jacked by white america and now it's lost the meaning behind its context. on black bodies and paired with black achievements, branding is an important and relevant styling choice. on kpop boys? they're already lifting second hand at this point. do better.

[sserpente]

Pastel Blue (Chapter 5)

Synopsis: After his lucky escape, the Tesseract takes Loki on new adventures–but unfortunately, his journeys through space do not go unnoticed and he soon ends up on TVA’s radar. Working for them, albeit reluctantly, he keeps finding himself in the company of a young woman, Jess, who works in the linguistics department and who has a truly strange effect on him. Smitten by her confidence and smugness, he seeks her presence like a bee hunting for honey and lets her wreak havoc in his heart without really knowing why. But he is determined to find out. He means to escape this godforsaken place anyway.  

Find all chapters on my masterlist! (Unfortunately, Tumblr will not display my recent posts if I add a link.)

It almost felt like no time at all. Had one whole week really passed already since Loki had accommodated himself in her unit? In the books, the characters who had to share a room usually fell in love by the end of the story or, even better, they had some mind-blowing sex and then ended up together, and yet all she had done was play with her vibrator like it would be taken away from her the next morning for good.

But unlike any of the mischief and the chaos she had expected, Loki was a rather pleasant roommate. He was respectful, calm, tidy… and she doubted he had ever entered her room without her permission. Unless, of course, he had done so in her absence.

Jess gnashed her teeth, her eyes fixed on her brown hair in the mirror. Ariana had found this lovely youth magazine in the nineties yesterday, one that had already been thrown in the bin. The only reason she had taken it was because the cover showed a blue phone booth with Paul McGann as the Eighth Doctor on the cover. Jess had spent all morning skimming through it, reading the headline article as well as chuckling about the gossip and the ads—even though some of them were rather sexist.

At some point, she found a double page on fancy hairstyles for women and now struggled to copy one of the elegant braids to spice up her own hair. Thus far, she had been failing miserably, flinching with a grunt when Loki opened the bathroom door. He tilted his head upon seeing her sitting on the edge of her bathtub with her tongue sticking out a little and her fingers entangled in her brown hair.

“Yes?”

“I meant to get washed but clearly, you are occupied in here.”

Jess huffed, flinging the hair tie into the sink. “I’ve been trying to braid my hair. Like this, look!” She pointed at the magazine. The woman in the picture looked like it had taken her five minutes to create this look, and they’d had the audacity to rate this style ‘quick and easy’.

Loki chuckled. “You look like a scarecrow.”

“Why, thank you.” She rolled her eyes. “You can take your shower, I give up on this.” She said.

His sigh surprised her. “Allow me.”

“What?” Jess’ reply was all but a chirp but Loki had already approached her and fetched the hair tie from the sink. The braid was indeed a simple one, and as he stood behind her to part her hair for her, he had to refrain from letting her know just how soft it felt.

He had often braided his mother’s hair as a child. It was an activity that had calmed him down whenever Thor and his friends had made fun of how fond he was of books and preferred to use his mind and tricks rather than raw strength in play fights. The hand movements he was so familiar with that he had no need to look. Instead, he met Jess’ eyes in the mirror. She swallowed, and for a brief moment, he found himself remembering the whimpers coming from her bedroom at night.

Quickly, he averted his gaze again, parting her hair to reveal the earrings dangling down her earlobes. They shimmered in the artificial light of the bathroom. He had never seen her without them, come to think of it.

“They are moonstones.” She said when she noticed his glance. His finger brushed against her left earring once more, making it swing a little. “M got them for me on my birthday. The stone is said to soothe emotional instability and stress, and to stabilise emotions.” After all, her own parents were unlikely to buy her birthday presents anymore. “He asked me to always wear them… that they would protect me from evil.”

Loki hummed. He was familiar with the healing properties of moonstones. They were rather common on Asgard too. Only it made him wonder why Mobius would be so keen on her keeping them on at all times.

“Do you truly believe that?”

She shrugged. “I choose to.”

His fingertips brushed against the soft skin of her neck and he sucked in a deep breath. Jess’ lips parted. She was indeed a beautiful woman, was she not? Loki pondered if she was aware of just how alluring she was. How delectable she sounded when she came undone, believing so naïvely that he was unable to hear the fun she had with herself.

Lust flared up in his blue eyes, his fingers caressing her neck once more, and him braiding her hair all of a sudden turning into a subtle excuse to touch her over and over, to explore what their physical connection meant to him. Then it hit him. The inexplicable tension between them was indeed sexual too.

It was perfect, was it not? If Jess desired him, in whatever way she imagined to… then perhaps he could make use of her attraction, especially as this meant that he too would get to blatantly act on those carnal needs simmering right beneath the surface of his very core. He could not possibly trust her beyond that.

“There.” He announced, finishing up the braid by tying the loose ends together with her hair tie. She looked exactly like the model in the magazine now—only Loki had done an even better job. Jess swallowed once more, wishing, subconsciously, that he would touch her one last time. When he stepped away from her instead, she came to suppress a disappointed whimper.

“M is, um… you’ll be sent to a different unit next week.” She said, breaking the oddly peaceful but palpable silence between them.

“Am I?”

“Yeah. Reese recovered well, I mean, that’s what M told me. He will take over after the party.”

“What party?”

Jess stood, clutching the sink behind her for support—Loki did not fail to notice how flustered she was now, almost as if him braiding her hair had intensified whatever it was she felt for him. It had been a long time since he had last had to think this way upon meeting someone of the opposite sex, let alone a mortal woman.

“Dave is celebrating his anniversary this weekend. It’s a big deal here at the TVA, much more important than birthdays. M didn’t tell you about it, then.” She concluded.

Loki shook his head slowly and decided to give her a smirk. Her reaction, blood biting at her cheeks, pleased him. “I’d dare say I am not invited to your silly festivities.”

“M is thinking about it. About inviting you, I mean. And I guess you could… use a break from all… this. Besides, apart from security, everyone will be drunk by midnight. Lots of snacking and dancing…”

Loki rolled his eyes. He had already hated these kinds of parties back on Asgard. Fandral would shamelessly flirt with three women at once, Volstagg would stuff himself into a coma and Thor would brag with his hammer on the dance floor, making the women believe they could lift it as they danced with him.

If anything, however, this absurd anniversary was the perfect opportunity for him to let his charm play and gain her trust. Jess sighed, prompting him to look up and meet her eyes. She stood, approaching him with the hint of a smile both scornful and compassionate at the same time… and then wrapped her arms around him.

Loki tensed up, his arms hanging by his side motionlessly. Physical affection was the last thing he had expected in a place like this, even from Jess. Perhaps, gaining her trust would be easier than he thought it would be, and still, part of him was unable to deny how much he enjoyed knowing that someone at least pretended to care, as peculiar as she was. Her touch felt like someone had set his entire body ablaze.

“Listen, I know you’ve been through shit and I know you hate everyone right now, including me. M may or may not have red on his ledger but you’re a part of the team now. You’re one of us. If we don’t stand up for each other, then who will?”

“I never agreed on becoming a part of the team.” Loki responded darkly.

Jess moved away from him a little, her smile faltering. “Me neither.”

~*~

“You’ll have to explain that to me one more time. When your father, I mean, Odin, fell into the Odinsleep—whatever the hell that means—your mother gave you the throne?”

Loki hummed. That was the part of the story Thor had left out upon telling S.H.I.E.L.D. and all the other silly secret organisations run by mortals how dangerous and menacing his adoptive brother was.

Jess was flicking through one of the thickest books he had ever seen. It was a collection of astronomical anomalies written down in a language not even Loki could decipher and it was so big she had to stand upright rather than sit at her desk to read the top of the pages. She gazed at him from the corner of her eyes.

“Thor was no longer on Asgard and Mother refused to leave Odin’s side. I was the only one left fit to rule—only Thor’s idiotic friends did not accept me as their king.”

“Let me guess… they pretended you were the villain so you became the villain?” Nibbling on her candy necklace, she bit off a pearl with a loud crack. Loki flinched a little. It was short of a miracle she had not chipped any of her teeth yet.

“I saw my chance,” he said. “So I took it. I never saw myself as the villain. And I never lied. I was the rightful king of Asgard.”

Jess bent over to read the small print. She was still wearing the plait Loki had braided into her hair. It swayed from side to side a bit as it fell over her shoulder, revealing her neck. Her scent was almost unnerving—unnerving in a most ferocious and desirable way. Intoxicating. He had sensed it when she had hugged him already and now, part of him was greedy to press her close to him once more and feel her body against his. He suppressed a growl. He should be enjoying his quest to tiptoe nearer and nearer to getting this ridiculous collar off his neck and make this mortal woman swoon over him—not the other way around. He was the one in control. He had to be.

So he stepped closer, his tread so quiet Jess never heard him approach her.

“So you came to like it. The power of the throne?” She said without looking up. Loki nodded, oblivious to the fact she could not see him. She cursed under her breath when his arm brushed against hers, eliciting a barely noticeable smirk from him. It was amusing how quickly he could read her reactions to him now.

The Trickster swallowed. “I meant to prove myself to the man who never saw me as a potential heir in the first place.”

“How did Thanos find you?” Jess choked out when he moved in closer, demanding all of her attention to himself. It almost scared him how fast she forgot about the massive book on her desk, her eyes fixed on his face as if it bore the answer to all of her questions. Loki’s expression hardened nonetheless, regardless of how much the urge to taste her lips rose within him.

“How much do you know?”

“I know what M told me… that you were his ally and he helped you take over Earth in exchange for the Tesseract.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at her. “Then you know nothing.” Her glance found his lips now too. He was standing close enough for his warm breath to ghost over her mouth, her heart beating more rapidly with every passing second.

Fuck. Her office was being monitored. Sucking in a deep breath, she moved away from him and closed the thick book on her desk shut. “It’s late. We should head to the party.” She cleared her throat. “You can, um… wait for me here so I can get changed. Give me five.”

Loki nodded, taken by surprise until he noticed her glancing at the chunky surveillance camera in the corner of the room. Ah… there it was. The fear or shame or both to be caught being involved with him. Loki gnashed his teeth when she rushed past him, fleeing from the scene. That, at least, was something he was familiar with.

He remained in the office, almost as if glued to the spot, for a while longer before he made his way towards the cafeteria where the festivities would take place. Jess would catch up—besides, so he had to admit, he was indeed looking forward to seeing their faces when he joined the ridiculous little party and what it might give him to work with.

“Really, that’s all? That’s almost a little disappointing.” He heard Dave say in the distance, presumably a few yards away from him, his voice ricocheting through the dark hallway.

Loki stopped dead in his tracks. As silent as a mouse, he leaned against the wall, melted into it almost, and slowed down his breathing.

“Yes…” Another voice that Loki identified as Mobius’, replied. “We did take a risk with them but I must admit, I too almost expected a little… more. I thought one of them might… feel something, you know—a connection or recognition, maybe.” Loki could hear his suit ruffle as he shrugged. “Well, timelines can be unpredictable. We do know that better than anyone else.”

Connection. Recognition? For some peculiar reason, he was certain the pair were speaking about him. Him and… Jess? Who else could they possibly mean? His gut feeling, however, told him that he should, seidr or not, get rid of the security footage in Jess’ office as soon as possible. Whatever it was Mobius wanted to see unfolding between them, he was not going to grant him the satisfaction of presenting it to him on a silver platter.

Fortunately enough, they were too far away to hear him, he realised that once more when Jess’ footsteps echoed through the hallway. He knew it was her without even looking behind himself and yet, found his heart skipping a beat when she touched his arm.

“Ready? You know they might give you suspicious looks as soon as you… what are you doing?”

Loki gave her a disarming smile. “Nothing. Shall we?”

~*~

A/N: Put your swords up, put ‘em up; it’s going down.

[the-last-teabender]

FANFIC: Oxventure - Duel Destinies

RATING: G

WORDS: Just under 7k

SUMMARY: Corazón gets hit on the head.

A/N: This isn’t my first time writing fanfic, but it’s my first time in literal decades writing something that a) isn’t going into a charity anthology and b) isn’t single-sentence goofs in my Gchat window with @randomthunk. So I actually am a little nervous to just yeet my work out into the world without an editor/publisher frontline protecting me from looking foolish. I do have plans to fic more tho.

I approached this as though I was writing an official tie-in because that’s my comfort zone (and occasionally my job). Which was a little challenging because there’s a lot that’s not part of the story but is part of the viewing experience. I have not mastered it in one story but the attempt was fun. Also I haven’t smashed alt-codes this obsessively while writing since I wrote about Señor 105.

Thanks aforementioned Ginger for being my beta reader and basically sitting on me to post this instead of hide it in my writing folder.

Anyway, if you like what I’m throwing out here, I have actually a lot of stuff in print and even more coming.

----------

“Right,” Dob said, pacing the length of the deck, “before we go, let’s review. Prudence, what happened yesterday?”

“We found a bad man killing off local slimes to make slime booze.”

“Good. Corazón, what happened yesterday?”

“I began my awesome new career as a detective and threw someone out a window.”

“All right. Merilwen?”

“Mow.”

“Excellent. Egbert?”

“I set a tavern on fire and got my seal very drunk on slime gin.”

“All right, that’s us caught up.”

That wasn’t the entire catch-up, but all of them knew the events of the day before well enough. The forest outside the town of Esterwell was in turmoil, according to the wizard Binbag after he tumbled unexpectedly out of a pantry. It was suddenly bereft of slimes — the cute little blobby creatures generally used for target practice by up-and-coming adventurers. As it happened, slimes had other uses. Serving as the base for a delightful high-end alcoholic brew, for one. Serving as the base of the entire local food chain, for another. If the slime population continued to plummet, eventually the other animal populations would follow suit.

An investigation of the local slime hunters (led by DCI Jeff Crimestopper, a pseudonym Corazón was becoming increasingly attached to) turned up that they were all in the employ of the same man: one Alonzo Horgan, owner of the Horgan Distillery. One especially talkative young hunter revealed that Horgan intended to “wring all the slimes out of Esterwell Forest” before upping sticks to his next hunting ground.

The goal was, in short, to stop Horgan’s machinations before he destabilized the entire local ecosystem and went on to do the same to others. Somewhere along the way, Dob had got it into his head that the goal was to start a brewery of their own and hold a cider-making contest in the Esterwell town square… an idea the group at large now referred to as “Plan C.”

Plan A, currently underway, was to continue the detective lark and either talk sense into Horgan or (more likely) run him out of town. Plan B was burning down the distillery.

“I’m still very much in favor of bumping Plan B up to Plan A,” said Prudence, wiggling her fingers as the group made their way back into Esterwell.

“Mrow,” Merilwen the cat grumbled from Dob’s shoulder, which translated to something like, “But that doesn’t actually solve the problem of making him stop.”

“Oh, fine,” Prudence huffed. “Detectives it is.”

Corazón pumped a fist low and (he thought) out of sight. “DCI Jeff Crimestopper back on the case, bay-bee.”

They arrived at the home of Alonzo Horgan — a palatial manor in a town that really wasn’t the sort to have palatial manors. At least half a dozen residences would have to have been knocked down to make way for the place, which stood half again as high as the buildings around it that had survived.

Merilwen hopped lightly from Dob’s shoulder, turning back into an elf again, as the half-orc tapped politely on the door.

“No, no.” Egbert shoved past him, balling up one scaly fist. “You’ve gotta really punch it.” He slammed his fist against the door several times, making it bow slightly under the pressure.

“Open up!” Corazón shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “We have a warrant!”

“Don’t just say we have a warrant!” Merilwen hissed.

The door was opened mere moments later by a tall, rail-thin man with an upturned nose and a downturned moustache. “Mmcan I help you?”

Corazón pushed past the man. “Yeah, you can take us to Alonzo Horgan. We’re taking him down to the station for questioning.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Horgan is not—” But the man was cut off as the rest of the group piled past and into the house.

“Where is he, then? Upstairs?” Corazón pointed up the stairwell, one foot on the steps.

The man at the door, to his credit, did his best to maintain his decorum. “Mr. Horgan is not taking visitors.”

“We’re not visitors,” Dob said gruffly, looming over the man, “we’re detectives.”

“Is that so? Well, I do hope you meant what you said about having a warrant. Otherwise I may have to take you to the authorities.” 

Alonzo Horgan’s voice silenced the group, but had it not, his presence would have. Fully six-foot-four, a stocky mix of fat and muscle generally only seen on back alley brawlers, stuffed into a fancy suit. His glare was imperious; his moustache was excellent.

Corazón swiveled and approached the master of the house. “Alonzo Horgan?”

“Yes, I’m… not sure who else I would be.” Horgan seemed put out for a moment, but recovered himself. “May I ask what business you have here?”

“DCI Jeff Crimestopper.” Corazón pulled a piece of paper from his coat, flashed it briefly, and put it away again. “This is my DI, Dob Tyler.”

Dob grinned toothily; had it not been Dob, it might have looked threatening. “Here to make sure my loose cannon superior does things by the book.”

Corazón gestured to the rest of the party. “DS Prudence, DC Merilwen. And, er, PC Egbert, he mostly makes the tea.”

“It’s really good tea,” Egbert piped up.

“No offense, sir…” Horgan gestured to Corazón. “But you look more like a pirate than a detective.”

“Deep cover, obviously. I wouldn’t expect a civilian to understand.”

Horgan waved a hand dismissively. “Even if I were to entertain the idea that you’re who you claim to be, I feel I’ve done nothing to warrant an investigation.”

Merilwen narrowed her eyes. “Nothing, Mr. Horgan?” Her voice was tense, hitting that slightly higher octave that her friends knew meant violence was quickly becoming an option. “Killing off an entire species for your own benefit is ‘nothing’? Allowing the local wildlife to starve is ‘nothing’?”

“Oh, it’s about the distillery, is it? I promise you, my dear, I’ve heard it all before.”

Dob gritted his teeth, giving Horgan a highly dramatic, highly knowing look. “I’d be careful if I was you, sir. DC Merilwen has a license to… er. Bear.”

Still, none of this seemed to faze Horgan. “If you think complaining about my methods is going to have any effect… let me assure you, it hasn’t yet. Now, unless you have any actual business with me…”

Prudence stepped up. “All right, look. Fine. We’re not actually detectives.”

“You don’t say,” Horgan deadpanned.

“That said… the whole slime issue is a real thing, and we really do need you to stop hunting them out completely. Or at least cut back.” Prudence looked back at Merilwen. “Cut back? Would that be good enough?”

“I prefer the idea of him stopping completely,” Merilwen seethed.

Prudence gestured to Merilwen. “Yeah, what she said. But I mean, it affects you, too. Do you like, uh… wild boar? I guess? Rabbit? Pheasant? I don’t know.” She spread her hands in an exaggerated shrug. “Screw up the food chain and you don’t get any of those.”

Horgan looked them all over, one by one. “You come into my home. You pretend to be something you’re not. And then you make demands of me that would effectively shut down my business. Give me one reason why I should even listen to what you have to say.”

Egbert had mostly detached from the scene in front of him, his eyes scanning his surroundings in search of something entertaining. They lighted on a pair of crossed swords on the wall, with a bronze plaque underneath: Esterwell Annual Fencing Championship, Second Place. Without thinking, he blurted out, “A duel.”

“I beg your pardon?” Horgan asked. The rest of the party fixed Egbert with confused looks.

“A duel,” the dragonborn repeated, with a little more confidence this time — confidence filled in a lot of blanks, in his experience. “If one of us bests you in a duel, you have to at least give us a proper audience.”

Much to the group’s surprise — including Egbert’s, truth be told — Horgan seemed to consider it. “Hmm. Well. I suppose it makes more sense than… whatever we’ve been doing.” He gestured at the room in general, then turned to Corazón. “On the condition that I fight this one.”

Corazón grinned. “Hell yeah. I’ll fight you. Prepare to have your whole scene wrecked by Corazón de Ballena.”

“I thought you said your name was Jeff Crimestopper.”

“I told you. Deep cover.”

Horgan sighed wearily and turned to his doorman. “See them out. Tomorrow at sunrise on the lawn. Come alone, whatever your name is. And pray you do not lose. I have no patience for time-wasters.”

The five were ushered out without another word.

“Not sure it’s wise to challenge a prizewinning fighter to a duel,” Merilwen noted when they were outside town again. “That sort of seems like the main thing he’ll be ready for.”

Egbert waved a hand. “Pff, it’s fine. The plaque on his wall said he was only second place. That means there’s at least one person better than him in town.”

“Still… What’s going to happen if Corazón if he loses?”

Corazón laughed. “Pff. Hah. Nothing. Because Corazón won’t lose.” He unsheathed his rapier and stopped to take a few jabs at a nearby tree. A heavy branch, near to breaking, creaked overhead. “You know what my crew used to call me?”

“Yes,” said Prudence, “you’ve complained about it several times.”

“I mean in battle. You know, when we captured ships. My swordsmanship is second to none. They used to call me Corazón the—”

There was a crash, and silence.

Egbert stopped walking, waiting for the punchline. “Corazón the what?”

“Er.” Merilwen pointed back toward the tree hesitantly. “Corazón the unconscious, apparently.”

Prudence turned and lifted away the branch, wincing at the sight of the pirate splayed out on the ground. “Oh, dear…” Then she looked up at the group. “So does this mean I’m captain now?”

---

The general consensus had been to let Corazón be once he’d been carried back to the Joyful Damnation and bundled into bed. He would likely be full of opinions and complaints as soon as he woke up. That, and he’d need his rest before dueling Horgan the next morning. 

There was no bleeding as far as they could tell. Just a big bruise that would get bruisier over the next few days. Egbert dropped a quick bit of healing on Corazón which, while it would likely be helpful in the long run, did nothing to wake him. Eventually, Dob took up a seat by the enormous bed in the captain’s quarters, keeping an eye on the patient and picking out a few chords to pass the time. Just as he was getting a good riff worked out... 

“Ow.”

“Ow?” Dob leaned over the bed. “Did you say ow?”

“Yes, I said ow. Because I’m in pain.”

Dob jumped up from his seat and threw the door open. “Guys! Guys! He’s awake!”

Prudence was the first to run in. “Is he okay?”

“Sounds like it.”

Egbert followed, with Merilwen bringing up the rear. They crowded around Corazón’s bed, realized at the same time that that would probably look weird from his vantage point, and backed off a bit.

“Corazón?” Dob leaned in slightly. “How’s your head?”

He squinted up at Dob. “What did you call me?”

“Oh, right.” Dob laughed. “Silly me. How’s your head, DCI Crimestopper?”

This just seemed to confuse him more. “Who… what are you talking about?” Then he pulled himself up to sitting, perhaps a little more quickly than he ought, and pressed a hand to the top of his head, looking around. “I feel like I’ve been beaned with an entire tree. Where the hell am I?”

“Your room,” Prudence offered. “We figured you’d want a nap after the bludgeoning.”

He shook his head, still sounding a bit dazed. “No… this isn’t my room. My room is bigger. And it doesn’t rock and creak. Are we… are we on a ship?” He looked up at the others again, as though seeing them for the first time.

“... who the hell are all of you?”

There was an awkward silence.

“He’s messing about, right?” Egbert grinned nervously at the others. 

“It’s Corazón,” Prudence said quickly, “of course he’s messing about. Just humor him, he’ll be on to something new when he’s tired of it.”

Dob was already on board at humor him. He pressed a hand to his forehead. “Oh, no! Corazón! All our precious memories, lost forever! Please say it isn’t so, old friend!”

If Corazón was acting, he was really leaning into the deadpan delivery. “Is this some sort of prank? It’s not a very good one, if…” His gaze wandered down to his hands resting on the bed sheet, his sleeves wrinkled back somewhat. His eyes went wide, and he made a sort of choking, stammering sound.

Then, again far more quickly than he probably should have, he threw himself out of bed, shoving past Egbert on the way to the largest of his mirrors. Carefully, he pulled his collar aside. And gasped.

“Oh, my God, I’ve been tattooed in my sleep!”

“Gosh,” Egbert said with an admiring smile, “he’s really devoting himself to the bit, isn’t he?”

Merilwen shook her head slightly. “I… don’t… know if it’s a bit.”

“Which one of you did this to me?!” Corazón pointed at the tentacle tattoo emerging from under his collar. “Why would you do that? Why… what happened to my hair!? How long have I been asleep!?” He grabbed the nearest person — Egbert — by the collar. “Are you trying to change my identity!? Am I going to be sold off to the highest bidder!? What’s your plan!? You have to tell me!”

Dob grabbed for his lute, a nervous grin plastered on his face. “Ooooh! Oh, dear! Looks like someone could use a nice lullaby.”

Merilwen held out a warning hand to Dob. “No? No. One second.” She waved a hand to Corazón, the way one might a skittish fox. “Hey, over here.”

“What!? What do you want now!?”

“Just. Okay. Calm down for a second. Calm…” Merilwen inhaled and exhaled slowly, guiding the breathing with her hands. Corazón, surprisingly did the same. That in itself was a sign that something was off.

“Okay, just keep your eyes on me, all right?”

“Sure.” Corazón’s voice was strained.

Merilwen rooted around in the pocket of one of Corazón’s jackets, folded neatly over a nearby chair. She found what she was looking for — a little leather pouch of gold coins — and poured the contents out into her hand. She showed them to Corazón, as though setting up a magic trick. He watched and nodded tensely, his jaw set.

“Dob,” she said with a sweet smile, opening the cabin window. “Would you do the honors?”

“Would I?” Without hesitation, he took the little handful of coins from Merilwen, slid over to the window, and chucked them out into the sea, one by one.

All eyes turned toward Corazón.

“Yes, and?” The nervousness was tinged with irritation. “What?”

Another awkward silence, this one longer. And awkwarder. As they all, in their own time, came to terms with the fact that Corazón was not, in fact, acting.

Prudence tapped him experimentally on the shoulder. He flinched away, balling his hands into fists and holding them in front of his face.

“Hey, hey, whoa! No, no, we’re your friends! It’s us!” Prudence smiled, gesturing around the room. “You know. The Oxventurers! Can’t you recognize us?”

Corazón lowered his fists. “If you mean could I pick you out of a lineup, then yes, I certainly could.”

“Corazón…”

“Hff… and stop calling me that! It’s weird!” He brushed off his sleeve where Prudence had tapped him. “If you’re my kidnappers, then I would hope you already know who I am.”

“Y-Yeah.... Sorry.” Prudence frowned, then smiled. “Percy?”

“Thank you. That’s more like it.” And Corazón made a break for the deck. 

---

“All I’m saying,” said the half-orc with the large hammer and the very nice hair, “is that we could be having a cider-making contest in the town square right now.”

“Or burning things,” said the tiefling, as a pair of ancient tomes played around her heels like rowdy puppies. “We could also be burning things right now.”

If this was a kidnapping, it was a very civilized one. Percy hadn’t had any practical experience with being kidnapped, to be fair. His father had suggested that it might happen once or twice in his youth, because that was just how life was for the children of rich and influential people. But after making it to adulthood without ever waking up in a dingy cellar surrounded by leering mercenaries, he’d just put it to the side.

He’d also been a bit disappointed, as escaping from said mercenaries could have been fun. But in retrospect, he might not have done as well at that as he liked to pretend.

He wasn’t tied up, or locked up. At worst, he had been prevented from leaping off the ship by all four of his kidnappers (and a seal, he was still contending with that information) piling themselves on top of him. They’d bundled him back into the captain’s quarters while they consulted with each other. Percy took the time to shave — the itch from his stubble was frazzling his already-frazzled brain — and change into a shirt that still had functional buttons.

The change had gotten a slight stare of disbelief from his captors, as though he’d gone and swapped heads, but no actual comments were made. And now, the dragonborn was sitting by him on the deck and handing him a cup of tea, and it smelled suspiciously like what he drank at home, and yes, this was absolutely one of his teacups.

“So!” the dragonborn said with a toothy grin. “Cora-... er, Percival. Percy? Mr. Milquetoast? Sorry, not sure what to call you now.” He had a cup of his own, but rather than sipping from it, he opened his long snout and splashed the contents inside. Judging by the reaction that followed, the tea was still very hot.

“Just, er… whichever? I guess?” Why was he sitting on a ship drinking tea with his kidnappers while they asked what to call him? Why had his father not been mentioned yet? Was that still incoming? His teacup rattled against the saucer.

“Mmmm… Percy. I’ve always thought you looked like a Percy.”

“Always?” Percy put his teacup down shakily on its saucer. “Then you’ve been spying on me? For how long?”

“No!” The dragonborn waved a hand frantically in front of himself. “No, no, I mean… we’re not…” He looked behind him, where the other three were peering at the scene thoughtfully. “Um, guys, I’m not doing great. Someone else try.”

The elf stepped in and tapped him on the shoulder, as though relieving him from duty. Good. As far as Percy could tell, she was the most logical of the group. She wasn’t panicking… not that he could see, at least.

“So you’re Good Cop, then?” Percy eyed her warily.

“No…” The elf sighed, a sort of long-suffering sigh that made him feel like this was not the first long-suffering sigh she’d issued him. “We’re your friends, really. And we’re just trying to figure out how to help you.”

Percy narrowed his eyes. “My friends.”

“Yes.”

“Not magical kidnappers looking for a piece of the Milquetoast fortune.”

“No. Not magical kidnappers looking for a piece of the family fortune. I promise.” 

“I mean, I have friends at home. I can just go home to my actual friends, and not whatever you guys are pretending to be.”

The elf’s face settled into an expression that somehow managed to be both neutral and confrontational, her lips pressed into a line. “Name four friends you have at home.”

Damn. “Uh, th-there’s, uh… there’s Steve… F-Friendsman.”

“Yeah.”

“There’s, a-um, Roger… M’buddy.”

The elf pressed a hand to her face. “Please, at least let us try to help you.”

She seemed absolutely genuine. It was making his head hurt. This was not how criminals acted. As far as he knew. “Fine, help me, or whatever it is you want to do.”

“All right, so…” The elf clasped her hands together. “It’s probably just a matter of jogging your memory. You got a little bop on the head, it shook things up, but we can help you connect things up again. Right?”

“Sure,” Percy said hesitantly, now with the added wrinkle of wondering when and how he’d been hit over the head. He considered asking, but he could already hear the answer. No, we didn’t hit you over the head intentionally. It was a love tap. Something like that.

The elf smiled. It didn’t seem like a kidnapper’s smile. But again, he had nothing to go on. Maybe kidnappers had really nice smiles. “Okay, good. So let’s just rattle out a few of the high points, and see what your brain latches onto.”

Percy nodded, taking a sip from the teacup he still held in a death grip.

“Okay. Spicy rat?” She paused, and he wasn’t sure what for. After a short silence, she picked up again. “No? Okay, that was a while ago, admittedly. Uh… baby-making watch?”

“Babies don’t come from watches,” Percy scoffed. “They come from under cabbage leaves.”

The elf ground to a halt in her questioning, but picked up again with a shake of the head. “What about the party? The one where you went dressed as a sexy nurse and made a teenage girl cry.”

Percy scowled. “I would never do that!”

The half-orc chuckled. “Oh, you very much did.”

“I will not allow you to paint me with the same brush as you, you… s-scoundrels!” Percy felt a chill down the back of his neck. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? You’re trying to convince me I’m one of you and whisk me away to do unspeakable crimes, is that it?”

“Hasn’t taken much trying so far, mate,” Merilwen grumbled.

“Waaaait wait wait wait.” The tiefling squeezed up next to the elf. “We’re coming at this from the wrong angle. He’s clearly forgotten stuff from before we met him, too, right? What we need to do is remind him of why he became a pirate.”

Percy looked around the ship. Then down at the clothes he’d woken up in. And the tattoo on his wrist. “I’m a pirate?”

“Yep, you are a pirate.”

“So… this really is my ship?”

“Er, our ship, yes.” The tiefling seemed to take a lot of pride in saying that. Well, being co-owner of a ship was something to be proud of… if it was true, he’d probably let himself feel a bit proud, too. “So, maybe if you can summon up the feelings that made you want to run away from home and be a pirate, the rest will follow. So, tell us about your dad.”

“He’s… dumb?” Percy shrugged. “He’s annoying? I don’t know, it’s a lot of effort to run away from him for being dumb and annoying. I’ve got nothing.” 

The tiefling leaned in conspiratorially. “Nothing about what a bad dad he is? How he has ridiculous expectations of you? Doesn’t want you to have fun and live your own life?” She paused. “How he’s got a stupid wig and he’s all stuffy and bossy?”

Percy leaned away from her. “You seem to have plenty against him already.”

“Oh, no, no. I don’t hate him. You do.”

“No, it really does sound like it’s you.”

The tiefling laughed, waving a hand. “Oh, no, that’s just because he bothers you. It’s a support thing. I’d totally love to live in his big ol’ house.”

“So you’re telling me you don’t like my father, but you do like his money, and that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

The tiefling’s face twisted into a confused frown. “Oh, man. Yeah, we do kinda sound like we kidnapped you for ransom, don’t we?”

Percy flinched away, nearly dropping his teacup. Oddly, the tiefling was once again trying to reassure him. “Which we didn’t?? Which we didn’t. I’m just saying.” She sighed. “I guess he forgot whatever happened that made him want to run away, too. How about you, Egbert? Got any paladin magic for him?”

“I’ve got something better!”

All eyes, Percy’s included, turned to the dragonborn — who was now swinging a mace from one clawed hand.

“So, you know how in all the stories, right? Someone gets knocked on the head and gets amnesia, but then they get hit in the same spot and all their memories come back. Let’s just do that!”

The dragonborn strode over to Percy, winding up the mace. Percy stumbled backwards, his teacup falling and shattering on the deck. “Don’t you dare!”

“Egbert, not that mace!” the elf shouted.

“Oh, it’s fiiiine. I had to hit whatsisname loads of times before he actually turned into a seal.”

Percy looked at the seal. The seal looked back.

“Eg.”

The dragonborn raised his mace over his head. Percy stumbled backwards towards the door to the captain’s quarters, eyes locked on the cursed weapon. He reached behind him for the doorknob and twisted frantically. The door wouldn’t give way.

The elf flung herself at the dragonborn, turning into an octopus in midair. The two hit the deck, the mace rolling harmlessly across the deck as the octopus held the would-be attacker in place. Percy finally managed to yank the door open, racing into the captain’s quarters and slamming the door behind him.

“I meant a spell!” Percy heard the tiefling yell from the other side of the door. “You’ve got more healing spells, don’t you?”

“Oh, riiiight…”

There was a gentle tap at the door. Percy eyed it nervously.

“Heeey, buddy. You okay?” It was the half-orc. “Can I come in?”

“No, you absolutely cannot come in. You’re all insane and there’s a seal man out there saying egg.”

“That’s cool, that’s cool. I’ll just sit out here, how’s that?”

Percy heard a gentle thump against the other side of the door. “So… you really don’t remember anything, do you? About us, or your pirate crew, or any of that?”

“Last thing I remember is going to bed at Milquetoast Manor and thinking tomorrow night’s party was going to be very boring. Then I woke up in bed on a strange boat, with all of you standing over me looking ready to dissect me or something.” Percy sat down, leaning on the other side of the door. His head still felt foggy. “So? Which one of you blackjacked me?”

“You blackjacked yourself with a tree.”

Percy frowned. “Is that the sort of thing I’m likely to do?”

“Oh, yes,” the half-orc said cheerfully. “Merilwen had a stack of tree puns ready to go, but under the circumstances it seemed, uh… bit tasteless.”

“Merilwen?”

“The elf. Don’t worry, you can hear them later. You know, when your head’s right again.” A pause. “Oh! Haha. Of course. I’m Dob, by the way. The tiefling is Prudence, and the big dragon man is Egbert. And we’re all your friends, and we all do super cool things together.”

Percy nodded, still not completely convinced. Then he realized Dob wouldn’t be able to see him on the other side of the door. “If you say so.”

“Gosh. Introducing myself to you. That brings back memories.” Dob stopped himself, fumbling, as if he’d just said something extremely offensive. “I mean… you know…”

Against his better judgment, Percy got up and opened the door. Dob, leaning heavily on it, tumbled backwards… but turned the tumble into a backwards somersault and landed lightly on his feet. He gave a little bow, and Percy felt he ought to clap. Just considering the effort.

“You ready to come out and talk to the others?”

Percy leaned to one side and looked out onto the deck. Egbert was on his feet again, with Merilwen (now an elf) still clinging to his back, as though uncertain whether the dragonborn could be trusted on his own yet. Prudence wore a friendly smile that seemed to say “I’m not going to sacrifice you to my eldritch god, but I’m also not not going to sacrifice you to my eldritch god.” His trusted friends. Apparently.

Before Percy could answer, Dob slapped him on the back and walked him out onto the deck. “All right. We’ve all had a little breather, a little think, and I think… and this is just me… we should back-burner the memory loss issue and focus on the bigger problem.”

“There’s a bigger problem?” Percy looked at Dob incredulously.

The group at large winced. “Yeah…” Dob continued to speak for the group, and no one seemed to mind being relieved of that duty for the moment. “See, Percy. Percival. Friend. Our good friend of so long…”

“Just tell me what’s going to happen to me.”

“You have to duel someone tomorrow morning.”

Percy extracted himself from Dob’s friendly side-arm. “What? Why? Why would I do that?”

“Again,” said Dob, “if it makes you feel better, it is extremely on brand.”

“Hsfd… it doesn’t make me feel better! I have to fight someone tomorrow and I’m not me! I mean, I am me, but I’m not this other me who went and did a thing I didn’t do!”

Amongst them, Percy’s friends(?) laid out the entire situation. All he managed to retain were slimes, collapse of the natural world, very large man, and imminent swordfight. The rest was a sort of blur, and one he was in no mood to attempt to figure out.

“I can’t do this.” It was a statement of fact. “Maybe this Corazón guy can do this, but I can’t. Horgan’s going to be expecting some jerk pirate who can swordfight.”

“We can try another refresher,” suggested Merilwen.

Egbert reached for his mace. “I could try—-”

“No,” said everyone, possibly even the seal.

“Look,” Dob said gently, “we’ll have puh-lenty of time to work on the memory thing, right? All we have to do is get through tomorrow, and if it hasn’t cleared up by then, we’ll find someone to help you, no problem.”

“How can you be so sure?” Percy asked, the fretting feeling coming back even stronger than before.

Egbert shrugged. “It’ll happen. That’s how it tends to go. A problem comes up, and then a couple days later someone comes along with a quest that’ll fix it. It’s really handy.”

“Okay, that’s great for after tomorrow morning. But what about me, tomorrow morning, with swords? What’s my guarantee I get past that alive? Because I’ve never actually stabbed a man.”

“Yes you have,” Prudence pointed out.

“Like a lot,” Merilwen added.

“Apparently you kicked a man to death once,” said Egbert. “I mean, I found out later, but I believe it.”

“But I don’t remember that!” Percy flailed an arm helplessly. “It’s… hds… that’s some future guy and I’m not the future guy, I’m the me guy. How is the me guy going to survive?”

The group fell silent.

“... did I actually kick a man to death?”

They all nodded.

“Oh…”

“And see? That’s why we believe in you, Cor… er, Percy.” Dob threw an arm around Percy’s shoulders again. “We know what you’re capable of. We know it’s in here.” He jabbed at Percy’s chest with one finger. “And in here.” At his head.

“Ow!”

“The head, Dob,” Merilwen hissed, “watch the head.”

“Right, right. Look. We’ve got tonight to train you up into a believable Corazón de Ballena. You’ve already got the look, you’ve already got the voice. That’s more than most people start with.”

Percy let out a weak groan.

“Hey! No, this is good! We can do this! And maybe, somewhere along the way, something will trigger the ol’ bean and the memories will just come flooding back. Right, guys?”

The rest of the team seemed to believe it about as much as Percy did. Which wasn’t much.

“Are you sure we can’t just…” Percy motioned to the anchor rope. “Leave?”

“No,” Merilwen said firmly. But her expression was still hesitant. “No, we have to stop Horgan. More than anything else, that has to happen.”

She was insistent. This was important to her. Percy groaned again.

“Come on, buddy.” Dob lifted his arm from Percy’s shoulders, grabbing him by both arms and staring him in the eyes. “Look me in the eye.”

“Yeah. Looking.”

“Now. Are you a Thieves Cant, or a Thieves Can?”

Merilwen, at least, seemed to appreciate what Dob was going for.

---

Plan B no longer stood for Burning. Plan B, as indicated by a wild-shaped Merilwen taking up a spot behind the topiaries on Horgan’s lawn, now stood for Bear. And possibly Bomb, and Blast, and Bard Casts Thunder Wave, depending on who got trigger-happy first.

No amount of swordfighting or storytelling brought Corazón’s memory back. Nor did any amount of actually insisting on calling him Corazón. Their last ditch hope — that he’d wake up the next morning acting like nothing had happened — didn’t pan out, either. Dob gave pep talk after pep talk as Corazón fretted uncharacteristically, the latter eventually wrapping the uneaten bacon sandwich he’d made for himself in a piece of paper and stowing it in a jacket pocket. Finally, though, they’d all had to take up their positions and leave the rest to luck.

Corazón was left to make the walk up the lawn alone, but the other four had formed a perimeter: Merilwen in the topiary, Dob in a nearby tree, Prudence behind a fence, and Egbert peering over a hedge. Dob promised to shoot Corazón an occasional prompt if things got hairy; but, by and large, it was all him.

As the sun began to rise, Corazón walked up the paved path to the appointed spot. He’d not quite gotten his own swagger down, instead walking slow, measured steps with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

Try to look like you’re too cool for the room! Dob thought; Corazón looked up and around, surprised, then seemed to remember what Dob had said about sending mental messages. He stopped where he was, pulled his hands out of his pockets, squared his shoulders, and walked even more awkwardly up the path.

Fine. It’d have to do.

Just as the light of sunrise hit its best and most aesthetic hue, Alonzo Horgan and his servant walked out. The former wore a rapier at his belt.

“Corazón de Ballena,” Horgan said broadly, his voice dripping with fake friendliness. “Or are we going by something new today?”

“No, er, that’s me.”

Dob thought another swift message.

“I mean… that’s right! That’s me, Corazón. The mighty pirate. Here to run you through like a tasty kebab and grill… grill you on the fires of justice? What the hell does that mean?”

Just go with it, Dob thought irritably, but the moment had passed. Shame. He was rather proud of that one.

Horgan eyed Corazón with amusement. “I can wait if you need a moment.”

“No, no. Erm. Yes, that’s me.” Corazón’s hand hovered over the hilt of his rapier. He was tense. He was ready. He might have been about to faint. It was hard to tell.

Horgan’s retainer’s voice was soft. None of them could hear it from their respective points along the perimeter. Corazón didn’t look especially surprised by any of it, which hopefully meant there was nothing odd about the rules of the duel.

From their spots, separated though each of them was, they all had the same thought at the same time: what would it take? What hadn’t they done? Would they need a spell? Some sort of quest? A skilled healer? Would another bop on the head really have done it?

A shrill whistle blew. Each of them was shaken out of their thoughts to see that the duel had begun, and Corazón was already flagging quickly. It was less of a duel and more of a chase, the enormous Horgan lumbering across the lawn after his smaller opponent. Corazón, for his part, was holding his ground… though “his ground” was constantly moving backwards across the lawn in zigzags.

His heel came dangerously close to a stray root, nearly hidden by the grass.

“Look out!” Egbert shouted. Merilwen, Dob, and Prudence shushed him. Horgan looked up and around for the source of the voice. Corazón, on the other hand, missed the warning entirely. His heel caught on the root, and he windmilled backwards, landing flat on his back.

Merilwen hesitated behind the topiary, one huge, clawed paw creeping around the side of the greenery. Was it go time? The others were in the same state of indecision, poised to attack but waiting to see what happened.

Corazón lifted his head slightly. The massive form of Horgan hovering over him, blade raised threatening, blocked out the faint light of sunrise. The sword hung there for a moment… then was flung across the lawn, accompanied by a disgusted sigh from Horgan.

“How very disappointing.”

The group shot each other quick glances. The message was clear. Well, clear-ish. “Stop Horgan before he can leave” was clear enough, but what would be done with him once apprehended was likely still up in the air. Corazón, unaware of any of this, propped himself up on his elbows.

“Where are you going?” he asked weakly. “We’re not done here.”

“I rather think we are.” Horgan shook his head in… amusement? Disappointment? It was hard to tell. “What a shame. You were so full of piss and vinegar yesterday, and today you’ve got no real fight in you.”

“I’ve got fight… I’ve got plenty of… hhhh.” Corazón put a hand to his head.

“Serves me right, thinking I’d get a good fight out of some puffed-up fake pirate.”

“... what did you say?” Corazón’s voice was suddenly oddly sharp and cold.

Horgan chuckled. “You heard me. You’re less convincing than the chap I hired for my niece’s seventh birthday party.” He waved a hand to his servant. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve not had breakfast yet and I’m peckish. Think I might go to the kitchen and have a bit of a graze.”

On his next step, Horgan’s booted foot slid forward, sending him falling backwards into a puddle of grease that had absolutely not been there moments ago. Now it was his turn to look up at a looming silhouette: Corazón de Ballena, sword pointing down threateningly in one hand, bacon sandwich in the other.

“How appropriate. You fight like a cow.”

Horgan spluttered, eyes bulging. “You… what nonsense is this!?”

“It’s called the power of grease, that’s what nonsense this is. Now get up and fight me so we can have our little talk. Or would you rather we just go ahead and burn your whole scene down?”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Yeah, you’re right, I wouldn’t. I think Prudence might, though.” Corazón shouted toward the fence. “Prudence! Plan B for burn?”

Prudence threw her hands in the air. “Plan B for buuuurn!”

Horgan had managed to pull himself up to one knee, the grease still dangerously slick beneath him. “I said to come alone!”

“Yeah, well, pirate. Don’t know what you expected.” Corazón stepped back, taking a bite of his sandwich. “So, I’m calling this a win for Team Oxventure. Which means it’s time for some negotiations concerning your, er, current business model.”

“But…” Horgan looked in the direction of his servant. He was long gone. Whether he’d run off, or whether the large bear standing where he’d stood had disposed of him, Horgan couldn’t tell.

“Oh, yes. That’s our sustainability advisor, Merilwen. She’ll be taking over from here.”

Merilwen growled.

---

“So what you’re saying,” said Egbert, “is that my plan was the best and would have worked.”

“Hff… no! Absolutely not.” Corazón was rubbing a hand over his chin, displeased with the lack of facial hair. “A one-in-six chance of being turned into an animal is not a best plan. Why did you let me shave? I hate it.”

“It’ll grow back.” Prudence poured out a mug of slime beer… the last remaining barrel, which they’d taken with them as a gratuity after aggressively convincing Horgan to discontinue his fermented slime line. She offered the mug to Merilwen, who waved a hand in front of herself emphatically.

“No, I don’t want to drink the poor baby slimes…” The rest became too high-pitched and tearful to translate.

“I’ll drink the poor baby slimes.” Dob grabbed the mug and necked half of it, much to Merilwen’s chagrin. “Anyway, what snapped you out of it? Was it hitting your head again?”

Corazón wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Don’t know. I know I got really mad when whatsisname called me a fake pirate, and I wasn’t having that.”

Prudence’s eyes lit up. “Ohh, spite! Literally the one thing we didn’t think to try!”

“Well,” said Dob, passing Corazón his mended teacup topped off with beer, “I think we’ve all had a chance to learn something about friendship and patience and being true to ourselves.”

Egbert poured himself a pint. “I haven’t learned anything.”

“I have.”

Everyone looked at Corazón. “Have you?” Dob asked.

“Yep.” Corazón took a sip of beer from the teacup. “We are absolutely terrifying.”

Merilwen nodded sagely. 

“Yeah,” Prudence said dreamily. “It’s good.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to my room, and I’m not coming out again until my good facial hair is back.” The door to the captain’s quarters slammed behind Corazón.

And that is the story of how the Oxventurers brought down a corrupt businessman with a breakfast sandwich.

[dhwty-writes]

A Health Hazard

This took a lot longer to write than it had any right to. The first 1.5k words were written in under 2 hours, the rest in thrice that time. I'm done with today and this prompt. Written for day 3: Reading by the fire/cuddling by the fire of @witcher-and-his-bard‘s winter prompts Have fun!

Summary: Geralt of Rivia is bored. This hasn't happened in forever. Literally. He learns to understand Jaskier's whining a lot better. 

Warnings: none, besides the fact that this is unedited

Read on AO3

All things considered, it had taken a surprisingly short time for the impossible to happen. Apparently, all that it took was three weeks. Three weeks cooped up in Jaskier's generously-sized lodgings in Oxenfurt with nothing to do and lo and behold, Geralt of Rivia was bored. Bored! Could you imagine that?

It hadn't been so bad in the beginning. After five days he finally hadn't felt the need to rise with the sun and had let Jaskier kiss him goodbye, running late for a lecture, while he turned over and slept in. He couldn't remember when he had last done that. Truth be told, he couldn't remember if he'd ever done that.

Certainly not since he'd gotten to Kaer Morhen; there was no slacking in the witchers' keep. He briefly wondered if passing out after a fight and waking up days later could count as sleeping in. Probably not.

No, sleeping in was something for the safe and comfortable, and for the first time since he could think Geralt could count himself among them. All thanks to Jaskier, of course, who did his best to spoil his lover rotten. All on the cost of the Oxenfurt Academy, naturally.

The Academy spared no cost or effort to ensure the comfort of their lecturers—and Jaskier wasn't just any lecturer, he was probably the most popular bard on the continent. Geralt had first realised that Jaskier was rich when he had seen his personal study, stocked with books right up to the ceiling. Most of them were beautiful leather-bound tomes, written by hand with detailed pictures. He had felt a bit faint when discovering that some of them were in the second row.

No matter what Jaskier said about gifts from colleagues and magical innovations called a printing spell, books were immeasurable luxuries. And the bard owned close to a hundred of them. Personally.

Still, Geralt had been hesitant, at first, to make use of the private bath that came with the four-room apartment, or to call upon a servant to fetch him things. That was until Jaskier had told him outright how much they paid him for a single lecture, let alone several of them each day for months. If they were willing to pour that much money down the drain, he couldn't really feel bad about it.

So, the following days and weeks Geralt allowed Jaskier to teach him how to enjoy himself. He learned how to sleep in, indulged in almost daily baths, spent his days reading novels and poems out of Jaskier's personal collection. He didn't protest when the bard ordered too much food. Didn't comment on the overabundance of sweets—he even admitted he liked it. And when Jaskier asked for too exotic spices he only raised his eyebrows.

Once he had even ventured into the extensive Academy library—Geralt had never seen so many books in one place in his entire life—to find a collection of chivalrous legends Jaskier had told him about. He had been welcomed by an overly polite librarian, who had gone ahead to recommend him a dozen other books with the same topic, complete with annotations noting upon all the different possible interpretations. And if that hadn't been enough, he had been offered to take them with him. All of them. At once. As long as he liked. With no credentials but the name "Pankratz". He couldn't fathom how the library hadn't been robbed empty yet. When he had told Jaskier so, he had only laughed and kissed him gently, calling him a silly witcher.

It all had culminated when later that day, after Jaskier had ordered their dinner to be brought up to their rooms, it had been Geralt to stop the servant by the arm and ask for a bottle of wine.

"Right away, sir," the servant had answered. "Do you have any preferences?"

"Umm-" After a quick glance back to Jaskier, who had smiled encouragingly, he had added: "Est Est?"

He had half expected to be reprimanded, but the servant had only looked at him as if that had been obvious. "The year, sir. Do you have any preferences for the year?"

"I hear 1260 was especially good," Jaskier had piped up and that had been the end of that. They had had a very nice evening and an even nicer night, albeit neither of them had gotten a lot of sleep.

The problem was that since then over a week had passed. Geralt had read through all the books he had borrowed and leafed through a number of volumes of Jaskier's personal collection. He wasn't feeling like reading anymore. He had visited several taverns to play Gwent, but that too was interesting only for so long.

He had taken Jaskier up on his offer and accompanied him to a few lectures, but that had grown boring, too. Of course, he could talk about his adventure and the content of the poems, but that wasn't what Jaskier and his students were talking about. Instead, they lead very heated discussions about rhymes and metaphors and what Jaskier called a meter ("It's like a rhythm, Geralt."). But in the end, he didn't care if the rhyme was a pair or not, or if the rhythm was an asbestos or a dromedary or something.

He flopped down on the couch with an uncharacteristically dramatic sigh. Jaskier had returned from his last lecture an hour ago and was now holed up in his study doing... something. As if him being away all day wasn't bad enough, he had to continue working afterwards!

Geralt sat up with a start. Shit, was that how Jaskier felt all year round on the Path? It was a horrifying thought; no wonder the bard was so whiny all the time. Well, Geralt was different. He certainly wouldn't stoop so low. No, he definitely wouldn't whine.

 ~*~

 "Jaskier," Geralt whined from his place on the extra armchair they had acquired the previous day. "Are you done yet?"

The poet mouthed some words along while he frantically scribbled them down on yet another snippet of parchment. "Almost, darling, give me a minute," he muttered absentmindedly just like he had half an hour ago.

Geralt threw his head back and groaned loudly. He was going mad; he was sure of it. It was not normal for people to go such a long time without someone charging at them with swords or claws or dirty underwear. It could not be healthy. "D'you think I should talk to Shani?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jaskier mumbled under his breath, flipping through the hundreds of pages of notes he was keeping.

"Hmm." So Jaskier agreed that boredom was a serious health hazard. He drummed his fingers on the armrest. Maybe he should go do it right away?

He got to his feet and was almost at the door when he halted. No, it was late already, sundown a few hours past. He walked back to the armchair. But maybe-

"Geralt," Jaskier said with a heavy sight and put down his pen. "Love. You're pacing." 

"Really?" The witcher grit out. "Wouldn't have noticed."

"Can you just-" He rubbed at his temples. He looked incredibly tired. "I'm sorry, five more minutes, alright? Then we can do whatever you want, what d'you think of that."

"Hm." Geralt thought that was bullshit and that Jaskier should take a break.

But the poet was too engrossed in his own mind to even hear it.

'Alright then,' he thought and sat back down, arms crossed. 'Five more minutes.' He could manage five minutes of meditation. Easily.

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, waiting for the calm to settle over him. What followed were probably the longest five fucking minutes of Geralt's life.

No sooner were they over that his eyes snapped open and he rushed over to his bard, holding him close from behind and nuzzling against his neck.

Jaskier chuckled softly. "Hello there. Five minutes over already?"

"Yes," Geralt said resolutely. "What're you writing anyways?" he asked, trying to peer over his bard's shoulder.

Still scribbling, Jaskier answered: "A novel, dear."

"A novel?" he replied and pulled back a little. "Since when?" Jaskier never wrote novels. Songs and poems, yes, and on one memorable occasion a play, too, but they had both agreed that it was horrid and that he should stick to shorter stuff.

He shrugged and slammed the piece of paper onto one of the piles. Apparently, there was an order to the chaos. "The day before yesterday, I think? Didn't really pay attention."

Geralt snorted. That went without saying. "Please tell me you didn't write all that in-"

Jaskier gasped softly and pulled up another sheet of paper. "Shh, give me a minute, love, else I'll forget this sentence. Oh fuck, this is so good-"

He bared his teeth. "You said-"

"Please, Geralt," Jaskier begged. 'Fuck.' The cursed bardlet knew damn well that he couldn't resist him; not with the pure desperation in his voice.

So, Geralt contented himself with grumbling displeased and pressing his nose against Jaskier's neck, while he waited for the scratching of the quill on paper to finally subside.

Thankfully, it didn't take too long for Jaskier to slam the quill down and forcefully push the paper away. "Done," he declared, exhaustion plain in his voice. "I'm done for today."

He raised his eyebrows. "You sure?"

"Y-yeah. I'm sure." The tiny pause was enough for Geralt to know that, no, Jaskier wasn't done in the slightest. If not for him the poet would probably stay up until the early hours of morning, crafting one masterful line after the other. Until he'd inevitably collapse from the exhaustion, smudging the ink of his uppermost sheet of paper all over his face.

He couldn't fathom how much self-control it cost Jaskier to turn around and ask: "So, what is bothering you so terribly, my beloved witcher?"

Geralt glared at him defiantly. It took him all of three seconds to cave. "I'm bored," he complained and frowned.

The effect was instantaneous and his expression grew soft. "Oh, my dear, I'm terribly sorry."

There was something about Jaskier's voice, something about his touch, about the way he brought Geralt close for a gentle kiss. Something that made him go from wanting to believe his words so badly to actually believing them.

The smile on his bard's face was nothing short of adorable when he asked: "Anything I can do about it?"

"Hm." Well, he could think of quite a few things to bide their time.

Before he could voice any of them, though, Jaskier continued: "Yeah, that's what I thought." He stood up and took his hand. "Come on, Geralt, I'm dead on my feet. Let's get somewhere more comfortable, then we can figure that out."

He gladly let himself be led. As long as it meant spending time with Jaskier, he was hardly about to object. The poet flitted around their apartment, collecting pillows and blankets, while he sent Geralt off to heat the kettle and get them some tea, all the while humming with excess energy.

Not fifteen minutes later Geralt found himself on the floor in front of the fireplace with a lapful of bard who was cursing quietly whenever he sipped his too-hot tea and inevitably burnt his tongue. Geralt couldn't help but smile as he cradled his Jaskier closer to his chest.

"What's your novel about?" he whispered into his ear.

"Oh, it's a romance!" he replied cheerfully.

Geralt pulled back, a horrible thought dawning on him. "Jaskier...," he growled. "Please tell me you're not writing a romance novel about us."

"Well," the poet drawled and Geralt groaned. So that was a yes. "I am not writing about Geralt of Rivia, the witcher, and Jaskier the bard."

"But?"

"But it might be that the two protagonists are a chivalrous monsterslayer and his loyal painter companion."

"Jaskier...," he pleaded even though he knew it was useless.

"What? In my defence, it was you who dragged in the knightly ballads!"

"Hm." That was a shit defence and they both knew it. Unwilling to start an argument, though, he just pulled Jaskier closer against his chest and leaned his forehead against his shoulder. "Tell me more."

And tell him more he did. Thank the gods it was so easy to get Jaskier rambling. He told him about the two protagonists, Eric and Dandelion, who had met shortly after the artist had abandoned the court; he had been living at, to find real inspiration out in the world. He was, apparently, entirely insufferable and a notorious womanizer-

"What?" Geralt interrupted him with a quiet chuckle. "Next you tell me he set out into the world to draw nude portraits of all his lovers."

"Oh no!" He felt Jaskier tense up before even the lament had left his mouth. "Oh, fuck, Geralt, that's brilliant, I-" His mouth snapped shut. His eyes flitted around nervously as he was obviously contemplating what the worse fate was: abandoning his lover or risking the loss of an idea.

Geralt quickly made the decision for him as he opened his arms. "Go on, bard," he said with a soft smile. "Write it down before it's gone again." He had lived with Jaskier long enough to become well acquainted with all of his sorrows.

The smile he got in return was almost worth it. "You're the best, I love you, I'm so sorry," he blabbered, scrambling to his feet. He pecked him on the mouth with a quick: "Be right back."

'No, you won't,' Geralt thought adoringly as he watched him bolt to his desk. "Just bring something to write with when you do!" he called after him and leaned back against the couch. He couldn't quite bring himself to wipe the lopsided grin off his face.

It was going to be a long winter. But he wouldn't have it any other way.

[ectonurites]

a very very genuine question: so its bad to repost art but no one says anything when people repost things from the source material/creator's sketches.....why?like sure everyone who likes it may recognize the style but there are plenty of fan artists i recognize immediately, new or old art, with or without. to me it just feels the same, like either dont repost art or people should be able to repost stuff, i dont see how they can work at the same time. and this isnt me saying people should be allowed to repost and all that bc i do understand the theory of why reposting hurts artists, just that the logic doesnt seem to fit once it extends to famous artists/creators. just bc its official and easily recognizable makes it okay? how does that work? again, there are plenty of fanartists who are easily recognizable and lose no money when people repost their work (bc they posted it for free) and from my own observation, it seems it just, somehow, makes them want to do art less (from what i have read from artists themselves). why do we not consider that when it comes to official creators? wouldnt they also feasibly be less motivated seeing their hard work plastered across the internet for free when thats the sole way they make their income? and its not a system where its solely sticking it to the man bc it hurts the artists income, as well. but if it makes them happy to see people enjoying and sharing their work with others, drawing interest, why isnt it the same with fan artists? people often repost art, not out of malice or intent to claim credit, but bc they enjoy it + want to share it, esp on social media where sharing isnt a feature (instagram, for example) again im not trying to justify reposting, just confused about the contradiction

First of all instagram does have a form of sharing posts- stories. Which yes they are temporary by default, but you can use the highlight feature to collect your favorite things you’ve shared from people right there on your own profile AND it links back to the original post and can permanently be on your profile as long as you keep it there. You can even label them and everything! But then moving on to answering more of your actual questions

To start: this is a very complicated thing. And I feel everyone trying to answer it might have slightly varied opinions. 

I personally see a pretty clear distinction between ‘Officially published/released’ works (like comic book [as like you’ve probably seen I frequently post comic panels] or other materials that may have been released in creator guides, official video game art, promotional art for things, etc etc) as opposed to like, personal work and fanart. Because with official works:

There’s usually a source to buy it and you should if you’re referencing it a ton (while I don’t own every comic I’ve ever read I do have a lot and if I did read something first through illegal means [because some comics are just straight up hard to find due to age/being out of print] and enjoyed it I try to seek out a physical copy after if possible)

There is a level of far wider recognition (I know you personally might find fanartists’ styles recognizable but like, things that are in mainstream media.. have just such a higher profile. it’s not really comparable) 

If you’re not supporting the official release you’re harming the big company that published it far more than the individual artist (like, the individual artist probably also wouldn’t appreciate it, because it can effect them for sure as well, but they’re not gonna be taking the brunt of the damage unless it was entirely self-published work, which I’d definitely categorize differently from what I’m mainly talking about here.)  

Often fanartists/professional artists who aren’t that well known, in addition to wanting to just create work for the sake of it, also want to build their own platform, to have an audience that they interact with. Or like, if they’re offering commissions, a bigger platform puts you in a position where people will actually see the art and want to commission you. When you say reposts of smaller artists’ fanart doesn’t ‘loose them money’ because they didn’t charge to post it, you’re missing the fact that it makes them loose out on proper linked-back-to-them exposure. Especially like, when a repost account on insta or something says ‘ah yes credit to [username] on tumblr’ the vast majority of people who see it aren’t going to then open up a whole different website and look for the artist. Some people might! but if there’s anything i’ve learned from working professionally in arts marketing it’s that people want things that are convenient and directly in front of them. Someone who wants to see more works because they liked one is significantly more likely to click on the username of someone who posted it rather than opening up a browser or a different app and searching a separate name put in the caption. 

Then honestly, I do feel weird about reposts of professional artists’ more personal works unless the artist has stated they’re fine with people reposting with credit. It should be about the comfort level of the artist. I think a lot of professional artists who aren’t in a position where they’re as worried about building a platform, because they already have one and might have professional connections/opportunities already lined up, might not really care about reposts especially on a website they don’t use. (Like tumblr. I’m coming at this mostly from a comics artist perspective here, but most professional artists I see are waaaay more active on twitter and instagram than tumblr) If it’s a website they don’t use, it’s not taking away from the platform they had been building there for themselves. And also, some artists really just don’t give a shit, which is their choice they can make with their work! But that’s not a universal thing. One artist being fine with their personal art being reposted =/= all artists being fine with it. 

In my own experience as a fanartist, when I see my art reposted without credit, especially when it’s art I’ve also already posted on the same platform... it’s definitely disheartening. Even worse is when the repost gets even more attention than my original post. (something that has happened to me multiple times!) Like, it can get so upsetting!  Because it lets me know that someone else was using my art to build their platform and I got exactly zero benefit out of it. Then when it’s reposted with credit it’s a little less annoying, but I still don’t... get much out of it. Especially if it’s an instagram repost and they credit my tumblr not my account on there, since insta captions don’t actually do links unless it’s to other insta accounts. Also with insta for example, I have a 'business’ account set up so I can look at and track popularity of my posts and see how they’re doing as something to keep in mind when considering posting times, etc etc. When other people repost my art there I have no control over it. That sucks a lot! Also, when I quite literally ask people not to repost my art (it is IN! MY! DESCRIPTION!) and they still do, it’s just straight up disrespectful. I asked for a boundary to be respected with my work and people have just completely ignored it. That doesn’t feel good at all.

But, conversely, I’m gonna talk about my more professional irl work for a sec. I’m a graphic designer, so I do things like posters, logos, etc, When I design a poster for a client that is meant to be advertising something, even if it’s got my own original illustration or something as part of it, I know my name isn’t necessarily going to be attached to it the same way as it is with my personal work. I get a credit line somewhere, but that’s in a fine print probably not even on the poster itself at all, but that’s like, part of what I signed up for. I already get paid separately, I am giving permission for my work to be out of my own hands in that way. Professional work for a client is often setup in some way similar to this. I don’t get mad when I walk down the street and see a poster I made up somewhere without it directly ‘linking’/referencing back to me (aside from maybe my signature if it had an illustration), in fact I go ‘OMG ITS THERE ugh wait i see one pixel is off oh noooooo” and then move on with my day. It’s just an entirely different situation because that kind of work has a different arrangement from the start, where you know it’s going to be put in a different type of circulation.

So yeah, my word isn’t god here, but I definitely see official releases as having a different set of permissions based on the fact that they are published in an entirely different situation. And I think reposts of personal art aren’t cool if the artist isn’t okay with them, no matter how big a platform they have. Other people probably approach this with a slightly different perspective, but that’s mine!

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression Ep 17 - Sharp selling masks on thier own website.

K: Hi, this is Dir en grey's Kaoru starting this week's episode of The Freedom of Expression. Joe san! (*looks intentionally at J*)

J:Yep

K:Tasai san! (*looks intentionally at T*)

T: *nods*

J: Get it right this time, haha.

K: *laughs* Its started to go funny when I say it carelessly.

J: Well, you kinda zone out a bit, don't you, when you're wearing a mask.

T: Yeah.

K: Its slightly difficult to concentrate.

J: It is difficult.

K: ...with your awareness.

J: If we go on like this into the rainy season, it will feel pretty tough to keep wearing a mask.

T: Yeah.

K: Yeah, but there are those things that you can wrap round your face and neck. I've heard those feel a bit cooler.

J: Yeah, I do think wearing a mask in the rainy season will be tough. At the moment, what I am not sure about is whether or not, and to what extent masks are effective. There are different opinions everywhere you look. In the end, you don't know who to believe. Im at the point of thinking I should wear one to avoid any risk just in case, even if its a small risk.

K: Yeah, and what about your eyes?

J: Yeh, your eyes.

Kami: Yes, yes, yes, yes. 

K: Like, Trump wasn't wearing a mask, but he was covering his eyes, right?

J: Yeah, yeah. Oh! Kami? Are you coming in at this point?

Kami: Yes, yes.

J: Okay, go ahead.

Kami: Um, as for masks, when they were tested on mice, apparently they were effective. They had one side infected with corona next to one side that wasn't, and when they added a mask barrier inbewteen the cages, the infection rate reduced a lot.

T: Ehh?

J: Yeah, I've read about that too.

K: It seems like its better to just wear one.

T: Well, this is the news from Tokyo Sports today, but the home appliance company Sharp are making masks, and selling them at 2980yen for 50, with a delivery fee of 660yen. They are limited to one box per person, and you have to register as a member. So with even Sharp making masks, its like..won't Japan end up with a mask surpluss?

K: You see them a lot don't you? Well, you don't know where they come from though.

J: Well, Sharp is a home appliance maker that has been operating for many decades, but this year has apparently been their best year for sales and profits. They've made the leap over to masks as thier big money maker, instead the of home appliances, which they've sold up to now. Thats how much everyone has ???*1

T: Going from making home appliances to making masks is pretty impressive, right?

J: Yeah.Thats the great thing about Japanese technology. I think people are very reassured to see 'Made in Japan', they prefer Japanese made ones over foreign made ones, especially in terms of hygiene. But it must have been tough for them with their web server going down.

T: Yeah

J: I tried to have a look at thier site, but in the end I couldn't connect to it once ...

T: Were you thinking of buying some?

J: Yeh, I was! But while Im doing this, you can still see masks on sale all over town recently.

T: There are real estate agencies selling masks..

J: Yes, thats it! Even a tapioca drink stand was selling masks.

K: Yeah, but a friend of mine has been selling them too ...they come via a route, you can purchase them directly from the factory in China or somewhere, and then disperse them to people here, so you don't really know where they've been.*2

J: Right? They really are being sold by all sorts of people in all sorts of places. Its incredible.

T: Its a mask bubble.

J: Also, a lot of people are wearing hand made masks, or brand name masks...

K: Washable ones?

J: Yeah, washable ones.

K: Well, its not like they don't work.

J: Yeah.

T: Masks can be fashionable. Do you remember that chain, Dom Dom Burger?

J, K: Oh, nostalgic!

T: Dom Dom Burger have been selling masks with 'Dom Dom' on the side.

K: Thats cute.

T: They've also been really popular. They are cute.

K: That elephant logo?

J, T: Yeah, yeah.

K: I kinda want one of those.

J: Yeah, I want one!

T: So in this way, masks are no longer staying the usually white, but are turning into fashionable items.

J: Well, I usually like Yohji (Yamamoto), and Yohji is also putting out masks, black or white leather.

T: Yohji is doing a white mask?

J: A white one and a black one. Some people are saying this type of thing is cool, or this is want they want.. I want to buy one of his masks, but I can't. Leather is expensive.

K: There are a lot of overseas artists making them too, aren't there?

J: Is there a particular one you like?

K: Well, no, I just thought theres loads of places doing like a design or print on masks at the moment.

J: Will you make a mask with your characters (Krim and Zon)?

T: Ah, that would be good.

K: I wonder if they would sell?

J: Yeah, I think they would.

K: *laughs*

T: Should we (Tokyo Sports) make them?

K: *laughs*

J: Could Tokyo Sports make them?

T:???*3

K: We could have a little Tokyo Sports logo on the side.

J: It would look so fake!

K: *laughs a lot*

J: Like a counterfeit.

T:???*4

J: But that does happen, in this case.

K: I think it would be good. There is that monthly magazine 'Mu' isn't there? You see their logo on tshirts a lot. Tokyo Sports could do that type of thing.

T: Oh, right, yeah. But we did actually make a parker once.

K: Ehh, I want it!

T: And a kind of Idol person really wore it to lives and stuff, and it became a desirable item. Everyone was like, 'Eh?! A Tokyo Sports parker?!'

K: Its good, right?

J: It is good. If you wear something with 'Tokyo Sports' on it, it shows a kind of intelligence.

T: Really?! Im so happy *laughs*

J: It shows you've read around a bit. Its good. Although its a bit strange to say it. Its a bit different from something with an 'Asahi Shimbun' or 'Yomiuri Shinbun' logo. Its 'Tokyo Sports'!

T: Should we put our name on Dir's goods next time?*5 *everyone laughs*

J: Yes, start there.

K: It would be recognized, right?

J: Yeh, everyone would be like, 'Ah, its Tasai san!'. They might buy it. But, conversely, if Kaoru was to make masks, would Tokyo Sports be interested?

T: Of course.

K: But would those characters mean anything to the readers of Tokyo Sports?

T: We could put UFO on the side.

J: Ahh, UFO right?

K: ???*6

J: Well, it sounds strange, but just like how people send out a message with the print on their tshirt, you could do that with masks. For example, how you are feeling today or something...if you have a picture of beer on your mask, people might think, 'ah, that person wants to drink beer'.

T: Thats a good idea.

J: You could show if you are feeling good or bad, like include a message. You could send a message with your mask, send a message without talking.

T: Well, that type of think is developing, isn't it? That kind of fashion style.

K: Yeah, despite not being disposable, you can change your look everyday. Like, you could wear this one on Monday, or pair one with your glasses, or whatever you have that you want to wear.

J: Match it with your feelings, right?

K: ..with everything. 

J: But up to now you see them in white, black and kind of bluey colours, and maybe pink..with womens' masks. But what about more different..

K: More colourful ones?

J: Yeah, deep purple or such..

T: Deep purple?

J: The colours, or the design, like the shape can be..

K: Like this pattern? *gestures to his shirts*

J: Yes, like check or patterned...if they come like this, it will be more exciting to wear a mask. Aren't you looking forward to that a bit?

T: Well, yeah. I think white looks kinda bleak.

J: It does, yeah. You could also put stickers on your mask. It might be a bit difficult to stick them on if it gets fluffy though

K: You could put studs in it.

T: Ah, cool!

J: Should we put studs in?

K: Wasn't Yohji selling one like that?

J: Yeh, that was kind of printed on to it, but it looked like studs.

T: Its good putting different things on masks, right?

J: Well, if masks really are effective, we have to wear them.

K: Right.

J: I'd like some which are more creative. If there is scientific progress, you could have ones that open up when you try to eat.

T: Ah, that would be cool!

K: I think I've seen that kind of video! He looks like he's wearing a mask, but then it opens up when he eats.

J: How does it?

K: It just opens when he opened his mouth.

J: Really?

T: I see.

J: Ehh, there are lots of ways...Well, I don't know if I would wear it, but what about a mask you can kiss with..?

K: A mask you can kiss with? ...What are you talking about? *laughs*

J: Im sorry, at 52 years old, I've gone funny...

K: But, actually, it a good feeling to see normal life returning a little, some stores opening up again, isnt it? Starbucks, for example.

J: Yes, yes.

K: If it spreads more, we'll be in trouble though..

T: But there was that Spanish flu wasn' there?

J: Yeah, 100 years ago.

T: While it was spreading, they didn't know why, but they eventually realised it was spreading where people were gathered together, so maybe corona might be the same, and it might just return to normal after two or three years, I wonder?

K: It will.

J: Yes, we won't be social distancing forever.

Kami: I have something to say. Um, Didn't Dir en grey sell masks before?

K: We made them before, yeh.

Kami: So you sold them, and you also have a song called, 'Mask', right?

K: You know a lot, don't you?

Kami: Have you thought of using that?

T: I see.

Kami: I thought, since everyone needs masks, and you have a song called 'Mask', you could do something.

T: Kami has come in straight talking.

Kami: Thats right.

J: What do you think, Leader?

Kami: Yeh, if you did that..

K: I havn't really thought about it.

J: Hahaha.

K: I havn't thought about it at all.

T: Haha.

Kami: Its a laymans idea. You have a song called 'Mask', so do a mask campaign. But I wasn't sure whether it would fit with Dir en grey's image. But that was a shocking answer.

T: Hahaha.

J: Yeah, I saw Kaoru's expression and he really did answer honestly. But conversely, how about Kami's idea? You might want to try if you think about it a bit more?

K: Ahh, it didn't really resonate with me..

*Everyone laughs*.

K: Well, anyway, see you next week. Thank you very much.

J: Thank you

K: Please subscribe.

*1, 3, 4, 6 Couldn't make it out.

*2, 5 I think this is what he meant.

[eschergirls]

Originally posted at: https://eschergirls.com/photo/2020/04/22/guaranteed-get-female-your-bag

Another gem from Jess Morrissette on Twitter:

"What if we simply played to our strengths? What if we're so good at gaming, it somehow triggers an 'I want the alpha male' response in females?" A Game Geek's Guide to Getting Girls (PC Accelerator, February 2000).

I know PC Accelerator was trying to be a Maxim for gamers thing but holy crumbs.  Even as comedy this comes up short.  I almost would say you could make a drinking game out of reading this article but you'd probably die taking shots whenever "a female" showed up.  Also extra points for the advice to hide your gaming interest from a woman until you "bag" her because not letting your partner know about an important hobby in your life is a great way to make sure she's interested in it. >_>

Transcription for screenreaders (thanks again to Bella (@MoviePosters00) for the transcription):

A GAME GEEK’S GUIDE TO GETTING GIRLS

Okay palm-shavers, listen up! Reaction time is a factor. Say the first word that comes into your mind when we say "flying fat baby with a bow and arrow." No — not Messiah! Dammit, your answer is the reason we're writing this article. When you see that pint-sized chubby cherub whizzing around plinking people, it means Valentine's Day is breathing down your neck ... and baby, with this much love magic in the air, even you might be able to get a date.

As a service to you, our reader and — dare we say it — our friend, PCXL has sought an answer to the mystery that plagues so many gamers, "how do I get a girl?" We've searched high and low, discussed this conundrum over beer, subjected ourselves to countless seconds of daytime talk shows, drank more beer, picked up (and hastily put down) many women are from Venus-type books, slurped down more brew ... and, amazingly, reached an answer.

COMMUNICATION

To get chicks, a guy needs to communicate — often by talking. Realizing this Herculean task would prove impossible for almost any gamer worth his gaming spurs, and tougher for those even more worthless, we beat our heads against this barrier for days (and sucked down more beer) until a glimmer of hope laser-burned its way through the hangover.

What if we simply played to our strengths? What if we're so good at gaming, it somehow triggers an "I want the alpha male" response in females? Heavy stuff. Before we could commit our theory to print, we knew it needed rigorous testing, experimentation, quantifiable results. Unfortunately, we have no scientific credibility whatsoever. But we've never let a lack of credibility stop us before.

TERMINOLOGY

Here's a quick primer of terminology used in our experiments ...

Chick = Girl = Babe = Woman = Lady = Female = The ones with the bumps who constantly perplex us

Game Guy = You = Horny = Geek-like = Perplexed = Everyone needs a little help sometimes

Game =Game

Theory = An unproven idea that's more than likely wrong

Hypothesis = An unproven idea that's more than likely wrong. Also, the side of a right-angled triangle opposite the right angle.

Postulate = Something you assume from the outset to be true, unproven and wrong pretty much by definition

PCXL = Horny = Geek-like = Perplexed = Everyone needs a little help — and we're here to give it

EXPERIMENT ONE: THE "INTERACTIVE ROMANCE"

SUMMARY

In an ongoing effort to bring males and females together via the arena of computer gaming, a number of new companies are creating "gender-friendly'" titles. DreamCatcher Interactive (http://www.dream-catchergames.com) has developed an interactive romantic adventure based on a true story. The Legend of Lotus Spring (set to release February 2000) has players of most major sexes participating in the story of a young emperor and the woman that he is forbidden to love. Described as a "whimsical, non-violent game," TLLS takes you to the Far East over 100 years ago, touching on cultural, as well as romantic and adventure elements. As a date-locating technique, the TLLS experiment was an abject failure, as evidenced by this Session Excerpt from a co-ed focus group:

SUBJECT ONE (female)

They should've gotten Fabio to be in this thing!

SUBJECT TWO (female)

I'd like to help with the "motion capture" for that!

SUBJECT ONE (female)

It's so whimsical and non-violent!

SUBJECT THREE (female)

Awwwww, look at that! There's a "virtual serenade."

SUBJECT FOUR (male)

Sweet Jesus, please let me die.

PLUSES

Subjects 1-3 enjoyed whimsical, non-violent gameplay; Subject 4 also experienced Culture and Sensitivity-Broadening elements, as per his previous plea bargain with the City and County of San Francisco, California. (His original offense involved animal shelter felines and "Black Cat" brand firecrackers, but we shan't elaborate on that story.)

MINUSES

Despite a sincere effort on Subject Four's part to share the cultural and romantic elements of the game, considerable friction erupted. Subjects 1-3 suggested a "Fore-Player HunkMatch" mode while Subject Four insisted the experience remain a "Single-Player Shooter." Alas, Subject Four did not survive the triple-strength Silent Treatment that ensued.

OVERALL SUCCESS RATING (OUT OF FIVE)

Minus One. Not only did the male subject fail to score, but he was repeatedly and needlessly reminded of his utter lack of resemblance to Fabio.

EXPERIMENT TWO: PLAYING HOUSE

THE SIMS

Frankly, everyone believes that The Sims, from software-as-living-toy masters Maxis, is going to be an absolutely cool game. If you didn't read last month's exposé (crawl out from under your rock), it's the "game of life" made real.

You develop characters, Sims as they're called, and guide, coddle, force, etc. them through various phases in life, searching for financial and marital success. You can end up a lazy, jobless, criminal (much like the PCXL editorial staff) or you can develop a thriving career, gain the respect of your peers and co-workers, and generally lead the sort of enviable life we'll never quite achieve.

Lightbulb flashin' over your noggin yet? That's right — this should be perfect for connecting with chicks! We had the same thought ... not surprisingly, we once again demonstrated our total lack of experience and knowledge of the female thought process.

We were deep into the experiment when we realized that playing The Sims with a cute lass is like eating the broccoli and skipping dessert. How so? The Sims is just so real when you play it with a chick. They actually try to do well with their characters and they want you to succeed too. By the time you're done, you're married, employed, saddled with children ... and you haven't even gotten a kiss off the girl (in real life).

PLUSES

If you're really hard up, The Sims is sort of like practice for relating to real flesh and blood females.

MINUSES

The Sims presents all the work with none of the perks. Perhaps the most telling test-result was this ... babes don't get weak-kneed around men who play house!

OVERALL SUCCESS RATING (OUT OF FIVE)

2.5 dollies — While the game initially got the attention of the female subjects and painted the male subject in a sensitive light, it eventually rendered the male subject more hard up than ever in "real life."

EXPERIMENT THREE: GIRLS THINK THEY CAN DRIVE

NASCAR LEGENDS & TEST DRIVE 6

Why did man invent the wheel? So he could invent cars. Why did he invent cars? So he could impress chicks, of course. The attempt to translate the theory that "chicks are impressed by car-savvy guys" into "chicks are impressed by car-GAME-savvy guys" began with Test Drive 6 from Infogrames —and an utter failure to "get her motor running." The following audio was recorded during a race through Rome:

GUY

Hey! Watch the curve coming up!

CHICK

Is there a map? I don't think this is the best route, we should stop and ask for directions. Isn't Father of the Bride on Channel 4 tonight?

CAR

[CRASHES]

The session was immediately scrubbed and re-started the next day using Nascar Legends. In addition to bitchin' graphics, the incredibly realistic races in Nascar Legends are on tracks — eliminating the whole map thing. Our male test subject was able to expound on the muscular virtues of a 1970 Plymouth and get veeeery groovy in his lingo.

GUY

This is so groovy.

CHICK

Did you just say the word "groovy"?

As the race intensified, Nascar Legends and the general grooviness seemed to be having the desired effect.

CHICK

Mmmmm, wish I could drive this with a joystick ...

Unfortunately, this test case proved inconclusive, because the friggin' puss — ahem — guy, made the fatal mistake of paying too much attention to the game and ignoring the girl. He allowed a full 37 seconds to elapse before responding to the joystick statement, sending several possible messages to the test chick:

A) He was not interested in any way whatsoever in helping her get her hands on a joystick.

B) He cared more about the game than he did about her.

C) He is a total lame-ass and is wasting oxygen that a real man could use to deliver a clever joy-stick retort.

Despite the excellence of Nascar Legends, this experiment resulted in the death-knell response:

CHICK

Isn't Father of the Bride on Channel 4 tonight?

OVERALL SUCCESS RATING (OUT OF FIVE)

Five joysticks for the game, three joysticks for the experience of actually playing this with a female, and an obvious and complete lack of a joystick on the part of the male test subject.

EXPERIMENT FOUR: CHANGING TACK

NOCTURNE

When G.O.D. opened the Spook-House doors and unleashed their deliciously ghastly Nocturne, little did they imagine the power they were placing in the hands of the would-be non-virginal male. A combination of "X-Files" chic and classic survival horror action, Nocturne will give you the tools to awaken your "little zombie" from the dead, but you can't expect G.O.D. to do all the work. Take a cue from the game's incredible atmosphere and transform your grotty little hovel into an environment suitable for jitters-induced romance. Lower the lighting ... candles would be a nice touch. Make sure your friend/room-mate/mom (oh, you sad little boy) won't pop in and burst your love-bubble at the climactic moment. Steal some grave stones and casually lay them about:

GIRL

Are those real grave stones?

YOU

Oh, these? They sure are.

GIRL

You're so cool, after we play a little bit of Nocturne, let's do some ... rubbings.

Don't talk during the game play if you can help it. Let the silence and tension build so that when a shambling horror suddenly lunges at her onscreen persona, she'll shriek. The effect is totally ruined, however, if you're the one who lets loose an effeminate shriek.

PLUSES

With proper set-up and execution, a "Nocturne Date" will deliver more sizzle than a dozen oysters. Even if you don't score, a night of blasting werewolves and zombies is a night well spent.

MINUSES

There's a definite gross out factor at work here. When ghouls overwhelm your date and feast on her twitching on-screen corpse, she may be more inclined to vomit than make out with you. On the other hand, you can turn this negative to your advantage by slapping a hand over the offending image and intoning in your best movie hero voice, "This isn't something you want to see."

OVERALL SUCCESS RATING (OUT OF FIVE)

Four Severed Zombie arms. Good for you!

EXPERIMENT FIVE: SAVE ME HERO!

THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT

Admittedly an unlikely candidate for Date Movie of the Year, The Blair Witch Project — the overhyped no-budget, shake-cam, low-grade-video epitaph for three missing-and-presumed-screwed filmmakers — yielded the highest results in terms of female subjects exposed versus female subjects, ah, exposed. Throughout the course of the film, the three actors lose their bearings. hurl profanities at each other, and eventually meet an enigmatic but doubtless unpleasant end.

Of course, the game version of this, utilizing the Nocturne engine, is in the works and will be published by G.O.D. A clingy female, the DVD, followed by the game… what kind of loser would you have to be screw up this opportunity for a terror induced tryst? Now where the f —k is the map?

PLUSES

The overwhelming majority of female subjects tested responded positively. often sporadically clinging to the males next to them during, and in most cases after, the film. At least two left the theater with the stated intention of staying with the males that evening. Of course, at least a quarter of the male subjects also clutched the males next to them at least once during the film. There are, ah, other magazines that will deal with those test results.

MINUSES

A very. very slim but noteworthy percentage (about 8%) of otherwise-sensitive female subjects found the film's terror element utterly ineffective —thereby degrading the relative status of the participating males (who thought the film was scary) to that of instant, shriveled Weenie. “This is so not cool, Josh!”

OVERALL SUCCESS RATING (OUT OF FIVE)

Five wood-stick-figure-thingies. Heh, heh, heh — we said "wood."

WHAT WE LEARNED

Of course, much of our experimentation assumed the herculean task of getting the girl into your "love nest” in the first place. If you can manage that, then it's best to keep your passion for gaming a secret (until you've bagged her).

Going the route of using horror to terrify a “victim”' to your arms is more fraught with problems (not to mention issues of legality). So get them in to your life in whatever way you can, then you can use the tips and game styles we've investigated to ensure that you can still spend time at your PC and keep the girlfriend happy (a tough mix — trust us).

What could possibly be better than a lovely co-operative Diablo adventure, a Worms: Armageddon face-off, or living out your virtual lives together in Everquest or Asheron's Call?

Remember though, that the real fun and frolics needs to be done in the real world, not online. There are probably laws against that kind of thing.

EXPERIMENT SIX: LET’S GET LITERARY

SALEM'S LOT

This technique was developed outside our offices but captured on videotape. It's so diabolical, so shameless, that we hesitate to even report it. But we will anyway.

The Diabolical Test Subject (DTS for short) had candles lit, Courvoisier at the ready, and was seated with a girl (GIRL for short) on a couch. Further still, he was, brace yourselves, talking to her. In the midst of our shock we realized that he was reading.

It took us two minutes to determine what tome of romantic lore he was reciting ... it was Salem's Lot, by Stephen King.

You may be saying "So what? I'm a gamer, not a librarian.” Or perhaps you've seen the 1970s made-for-TV movie “Salem's Lot" starring Starsky (or was it Hutch?) Well, pay attention Love Master ... by borrowing someone else's words you'll seem smart. By displaying no fear (even during the graveyard scene with little Danny Glick) you'll seem more manly. But above all else, by reading, you will appear to be communicating.

At press time we hadn't managed to work out whether Blue Byte's new Stephen King-based release F13 will induce the same terror effect as Salem's Lot. It does feature a new story from the currently rehabilitating horror-meister and desktop themes and screensavers, etc. for fan boys. Fan-girls are fewer, but never turn to their touchy-feely drivel as a substitute.

TIFFANYSDOMAIN.COM

Do you know why we love Tiffany so much? (If you've seen her pictures here and you don't know, you've got bigger problems than we thought). We love her because she's on Playboy's new video "Wildwebgirls.com"

And we love her because she's on the Playboy Channel's "Night Calls." She also has her very own website that we've been spending an inordinate amount of time “researching” for this feature ... tiffanysdomain.com.

If, after reading this little bit of prose, you still remain chickless, you can see a whole lot more of Tiffany (and a wagon-load of other babes who have problems staying dressed) on "Wildwebgirls.com”... or checkout www.playboy.com for all the steamy details.

Thanks Tiffany!

[maatryoshkaa]

baby, it’s cold outside | b.c.

summary: you’ve never really given your cute next-door neighbour a second thought—that is, until you’re shovelling your driveway alone in a snowstorm during the holidays, and a certain someone decides to lend a helping hand. 

pairing: next door neighbour!chan x reader

word count: 1.5k

ryu says: this was!! supposed to be!! a harmless drabble but guess who got carried away again TT—anyhow this is an ambiguous holiday drabble and a teensy gift for you guys in case you need a little breather!

[☃️6:48 P.M.]

“This is the worst holiday ever.” You plunge your shovel into the snow with a frustrated groan, the heap next to your driveway growing precariously high. As far as you’re concerned, all your friends are on the other side of the world — soaking up the sun on a warm, white-sand beach or tropical cruise — and here you are, shovelling your driveway in the middle of what might as well be the worst snowstorm you’ve ever seen, just so you can back your car out and find a decent place to eat dinner. You’ve been snowed in (and feeling sorry for yourself) for the first couple of days of the holidays, sufficiently depleted your fridge, and now you’re starving. 

You scoop up another shovelful of snow, snivelling—you’re not quite sure if your nose is runny because you’re bitter over not thinking ahead and booking your own vacation while you had the chance, or if it’s simply because you’re so damn cold.

You’d pulled on a windbreaker before heading out, convincing yourself that the shovelling wouldn’t take that long—and now it’s soaked through, your bare hands (why hadn’t you thought to put on mittens?) stinging every time you grip the shovel. You can barely feel your face, your expression frozen into a scowl that’d make the Grinch whimper. After an hour of fruitless labour, you’ve barely managed to make a dent in your driveway: every time you finish a section, the falling snow is already forming a new layer. In fact, you’re pretty sure that it’s snowing even harder than when you first started—fat, fluffy clumps of the stuff, coating everything within your line of sight with a thick blanket of white. 

It really would be beautiful, you think numbly, if you weren’t so miserable. Starving, wet, cold, sore, and absolutely miserable.

“C’mon, y/n, you can do this,” you mutter to yourself, flexing your frostbitten fingers as best you can and mustering what little motivation you have left. “Just one clear lane, and then you can—”

A strong gust of wind sends you flying backwards, Christmas-cartoon-style, and you land hard on a patch of ice. Feeling the unpleasant, stinging cold seep into your pants, you watch in horror as the wind sweeps the entire snow pile you had been working on back onto your driveway. With an exasperated cry, you throw your shovel down and it sinks into the snow pile before disappearing, tears beginning to prick at your eyes. 

Just as you begin to contemplate cooping yourself up in your house and starving for the evening, you feel a sudden, warm weight on your shoulders and your hands reach up instinctively to feel a puffy winter parka draped over your shivering frame. You look up, bewildered, and your cheeks begin to burn from something other than the cold.

Next door neighbour!Chan is standing over you, eyebrows raised over drooping eyes—the kind of eyes that always makes him look soft and sleepy—and he smiles, shaking stray locks of curly blond hair from his face. There’s concern in his expression, but you swear you catch a note of amusement as he holds out a hand to help pull you to your feet. He’s holding a steaming mug of hot cocoa in his other hand, and he holds it out to you with a lopsided smile that makes you knees want to give way again. 

“You were shivering pretty bad out there—it’s the least I could do.” Words fail you, your tongue having tied itself into knots, and Chan chuckles, pushing the cup into your hands and patting them lightly. “Warm up for a bit, yeah?”

You manage to stammer out a thank you, and Chan disappears back into his house for several moments before coming back out with a shovel. As he begins scooping the snow back into the pile, you blurt out, “Were you—were you watching me this whole time?” Your mouth goes dry as you flash back to yourself muttering like an angry old man, your hair plastered to your face from the wind and sleet.

Chan stops and looks back, and you’re not sure if he’s winking or just smiling. “My living room window faces your driveway,” he replies simply, eyes sparkling as if they contain a secret joke, “and...you’re pretty hard to miss.”

He turns back and you sputter, the parka—his parka—slipping from your shoulders. Wrapping it tightly around yourself, you take a sip of the hot cocoa, sighing at the warmth that spreads across your chest and fingertips. Your eyes stray to Chan’s silhouette, outlined in the light of the streetlamps. Under his black parka, he’s wearing fuzzy reindeer-print pajama bottoms, and you can’t help but smile.

The few interactions you’ve had with your next-door neighbour were not your proudest moments. Sure, you’ll admit, you’re not the smoothest when it comes to social skills—you have to rehearse your order ten times before the waiter comes, et cetera—but for some reason you can’t quite explain, it gets particularly bad around Bang Chan. 

For instance, one time you were taking out the trash when Chan happened to step out of his house. When you raised your hand to wave at him, you knocked over the lid of the bin and spilled its entire contents onto your entire driveway.

Another time, you were mowing your lawn when he pulled into his driveway. This time, Chan waved first before pulling into his garage, and you stared after him, effectively forgetting about the lawn mower in your hands. 

There’s a permanent patch of dirt on your lawn now, serving as a painful reminder of your own social shortcomings.

It’s not your fault he’s so damn cute! Snapping out of your reverie, you bury your head in your hands. That’s it. You’re cursed with a cute next-door-neighbor, and now you’ve probably wrecked his cozy night in. You glance at his reindeer pajama bottoms again—snowflakes are beginning to stick at the hem—and feel like slapping yourself. After all, who in their right mind would leave their warm home in the middle of a snowstorm to help their crazy neighbour shovel their driveway? You are the worst next-door-neighbour in the history of next-door-neighbours.

Cheeks burning in embarrassment, you carefully set down the mug of hot cocoa before digging your shovel out from underneath the snow pile. Chan’s shovelled a good amount of snow already, and with the two of you working together, your driveway is clear in no time. Chucking the last shovelful of snow onto the pile, Chan raises his shovel in triumph, turning back to face you with a smile you swear is warm enough to melt away all the snow in the world.

Another blast of wind makes you shiver involuntarily, and Chan's expression turns worried. “Are you still cold?” He reaches into his pockets as if fishing for something and pulls out two packets, ripping off the plastic and handing them to you. “Here—these are hot packs. You know how to use ‘em?”

You nod, thanking him, but your fingers are so stiff from the cold you fumble and nearly drop them. After several moments of trying to rub the sachets to activate them, Chan’s warm hands envelopes yours, gingerly helping your wrap your fingers around the hot packs. Your gaze flickers up and you’re startled when your eyes meet his, your breath catching momentarily in your throat.

The sun’s gone down while you were shovelling, the sky darkening behind a veil of grey winter clouds. The snow has stopped, too, leaving your street sparkling and white beneath the pleasantly warm glow of the streetlamps. You’ve never been this close to Chan—you can see snowflakes melting on his lashes, and a cute flush of red (getting darker by the second) on the tip of his nose. He smells like peppermint and coffee, an odd combination that, for some reason, makes you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

It takes you a second to realise that Chan’s been holding your hands for a good couple of minutes now, and you clear your throat, voice coming out surprisingly steady for the first time tonight. “Thanks so much for—for helping me.” You gnaw at your bottom lip, tearing your gaze away. “You should probably head back in before your food gets cold.”

Chan chuckles, removing his hands from yours. “I didn’t make dinner—my fridge is empty.” He glances at your driveway. “Were you going somewhere? Holiday party?”

You laugh. “Not even close. No plans at all—I was going to find a place to eat dinner.” The hot packs are burning in your palms now, and the next words that roll from your tongue surprise even you. “Want to grab a bite together?”

Chan tilts his head, slipping his hands into his pockets with the same lopsided smile that’s always given you butterflies. “I’d like that.”

Maybe this isn’t such a bad holiday, after all.