#he would also know a surprisingly good number of takeaway restaurants

[wisteriagoesvroom]

oh my god this is the guy from your developer team who codes like a million miles a minute, drinks cold brew green tea out of a stanley cup, and clocks out by 5.35pm daily to go feed his cats (there are two cats and he doesn’t really know how he got the second one. the cat redistribution system just got him somehow)

[violettelueur]

— RYOMEN SUKUNA || LET ME MARK YOU THEN

↳ featuring : ryomen sukuna from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of sex, mention of hickeys and grammar issues

↳ form : imagine

↳ published : 22 january

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 3.7k

↳ synopsis : (modern!AU) after your lectures, you decided to pay your tattoo artist boyfriend a little visit only to then be persuaded to let him draw a tattoo design on you even though you never actually wanted a real one to be marked with.

↳ barista’s notes : just a little gift to you all before today’s episode and the reset the ‘coffees in progress’ list (wip) when i get enough sleep and after my disgusting online classes, i hope you enjoy the free cup of coffee everyone ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡ - also i feel like this is the longest imagine i have ever posted ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ

Having a morning full of tedious lectures was not someone’s ideal day and it was definitely not yours. Although, there was nothing you could do but pursue them through with as much enthusiasm and determination that you could possibly muster while being impatient about the hands on the clock taking forever to move a single inch.

However, at this moment in time, you were able to escape the suffocating lecture hall after many hours for today and was now walking down the busy streets of Tokyo with a white plastic takeaway bag in one hand while the other was occupied with your tote bag that was resting on your shoulder, which surprisingly kept hold of some of your textbooks as well as your laptop giving you some reassurance that the bag that your boyfriend gave you was going to last for quite some time.

Looking around the busy quarter of the capital, you began to notice a few high school students roaming about here and there with some hanging out with their friends - mostly likely going to a cafe or to the nearest karaoke lounge that they could find - while other were either rushing home as they entered the station or to their part-time jobs that they had managed to obtain for a few extra bucks to save up for their next step in life. Noticeably, there were also a few adults out and about with some working as street-food vendors selling delicious treats that you would be craving if you weren’t so full while others were dressed extremely professional with their laptops out on their cafe/restaurant table to what seemed like they were on their lunch break.

‘He should be on his lunch break right now, but if not, I’ll just put his food in the shop’s fridge’

Continue walking to your destination, you finally reached to a quieter area with the city leading you to then stand in front of a glass order with a ‘closed’ sign in front along with another extremely noticeable sign proudly stating ‘Malevolent Shine’ to which if you had said that to any tattoo fanatic within Japan, they would instantly know what you were talking about.

Opening the door, there was a sudden noise of a ring being heard leading you to immediately look up to see the silver bell that you told him to arrange since he always got annoyed about the number of potential clients popping up without his acknowledgement only to tell him that they didn’t book an appointment at all causing him to become more irritated - and as a matter of fact, you couldn’t blame him at all.

Looking around the tattoo shop that you had entered, there wasn’t a single person in sight leading you to come to the conclusion that you were right about his lunch break since his assistant would be at the front desk if they weren’t. Although there was no one to greet you, the dark atmosphere did. It gave an odd sense of comfort with its hints of red that could calm a customer down if they were worried about the tattoo they were committing to having on their body or if it was their first - especially when it came to him.

“Oya~ ain’t you a sexy customer? But I’m afraid we’re closed, but I don’t mind giving you a private session if you want, kitten” someone smoothly stated, leading your eyes to slowly shift to the person who was leaning against the desk with a confident smirk on his face. There he was, the mastermind behind the whole shop itself.

“Well, I’m not coming in for a tattoo but I am here to give a little gift, Sukuna,” you mischievously stated, as you lifted the white bag with the takeaway you had ordered for the man himself, leading him to look at you in surprised before tilting his head indicating you to come to the back with him.

Following his lead, you placed the bag on his table once you reached the backroom before placing your tote on the floor beside the table’s leg so it didn’t fall, letting any of your precious studious contents to be lost as well as avoiding any damage to your laptop.

“I’m surprised you’re using the bag, kitten,” Sukuna suddenly commented, as he sat on his chair while pulling out the white styrofoam box of Thai food that he always ordered along with a bento box that was wrapped in a black cloth.

“Well, how could I not? You did buy it for me,” you quietly mentioned as you took off your black longline coat before placing it behind your chair since there was nowhere else to put it.

“Did you make this?” Sukuna quickly questioned as he lifted the bento box causing you to nod at his question once you saw what he meant leading you to state, “I didn’t know if you were going to stay back tonight, so I prepared some food for you in case,” causing Sukuna to smirk since you were right about your assumption and it did catch him by surprise since he didn’t mention it to you today when he left your shared apartment.

“Thanks,” he quietly muttered before pulling his chair closer towards you so he could place a lingering kiss on your cheek to show his appreciation towards you. “How was class?” he then asked, as he began to unwrap the cloth of the box to your surprise since you bought his favourite item from the Thai restaurant but made no mention of it.

“Annoying, it was suffocating in there but the lecture was interesting so that’s a plus,” you answered, as you began to scan his messy desk that displayed the many drawings that he was working on. Some of the designs that Sukuna was drawing were almost complete, while others were in the same situation but for some odd reason, it was crossed out as if he was unsatisfied with the outcome that it was going to have which lead you to be perplexed since some of the drawings were incredibly detailed and beautiful. However, you didn’t have the eyes of an artist like your boyfriend did, instead, you had the eyes of someone that was able to analyse things exceedingly well hence why you decided to pursue a career as a criminal lawyer.

“How has the shop been while I was away?” you asked, as you carefully picked up one of the designs that the tattoo artist seemed to have scraped leading him to answer with an annoyed huff. “A pain, there’s been so many dumbass people coming in thinking they could just walk in and get a tattoo done immediately without even booking a meeting,” Sukuna answered before taking a bite of the soy-glazed fried chicken you made as he then continued with, “it was a good idea to get the bell since I could see if it was a customer I knew or not,”.

Looking at your boyfriend, you couldn’t help but smile at the man as he continuously munched the context in the box as if he hadn’t eaten in the past week when in reality he had been raiding the fridge back home only just this morning. Slowly, you turn your head back to the paper that you were holding as you continued to admire the work of art right in front of you. 

To be honest, it was quite simple compared to all the other ones that were lying about on his work desk but that didn’t mean it wasn’t beautiful. The light sketch depicted a short section of a branch or stem decorated with different types of beautiful flowers and next to it was the same design with the only difference of it being coloured lightly in case the client wanted to have options.

“What happened here?” you asked before tilting the paper to the side, letting Sukuna have a glance at the design he decided to discard.

“Oh, the client cancelled since I wouldn’t have sex with her,” Sukuna casually stated leading you to nod before taking another look at the design with a small smile on your face. Sadly, it was such a waste since the design was beautiful and it was disappointing to not see Sukuna put this beautiful art into life.

Some people might wonder why you were so calm about the statement he had just given you, heck even his younger twin brother Itadori Yuji thought it was weird that it didn’t bother you as much as other girls would have been. The reason was that you were so used to him having female attention as well as male attention and it wasn’t a surprise when people would book an appointment with him just for a fling or hoping for something more than just that - and even though you were calm, there was also a hint of jealousy and fear within your heart that you couldn’t help.

It was like the first time you saw him in your second year of high school.

                                               ꕥ 

Stretching your arms, you had finally finished the last sheet of the budgets for the school clubs leading you to carefully clip the pile of sheets into the folder as you then stood up from your desk before quickly heading out of your homeroom, so you could give the documents to the student council president, who was a third-year within your school.

However, as you were walking past a few classrooms with some people greeting you with a smile, you came to a sudden halt when you saw a whole crowd of female and males students in front of you leading to a blockage of the halls and a blockage of the classroom you need to go through to hand the documents to your senior.

“Did you hear, I heard he was back?!”

“I can’t believe he’s back, I missed him so much!”

“I like Yuji’s kind and goofy personality, but how could you not love a bad boy like him?”

‘Bad boy?’

Carefully, you managed to find a gap between the sea of students and forcibly made yourself fit within the gap before badly struggling to make it through the arc of the classroom door leading you to nearly trip the second you got the chance to push through the gap to ender the class. Quickly looking around, you found your senior sitting next to someone who looked like your friend and basketball club member Itadori Yuji - well more like a mature replicant of the boy you were used to. However, unbothered by the sudden appearance of the new third-year, you speedily made your way to the council president and handed him the booklet that he needed today leading you to receive his gratitude.

Yet, before you could even take a single step away from your senior, you unexpectedly felt someone grab your wrist causing you to quickly turn around to find Itadori’s replica behind you leading to a few gasps coming from the students from the outside as well as in the homeroom.

“Is there an issue?” you firmly asked, as you looked down at his hand that had a tight grip on your wrist causing you to have a small glance at the two black bands that were tattooed around his wrist - even though it was prohibited to have any in your school, you weren’t the type to scold someone for having them since you weren’t sure on how the teacher’s thought it affected someone’s education.

“Have you ever thought about getting a tattoo?” the salmon-haired third-year curiously asked, as he began to admire your wrist by gently turning it for your veins to come into view before beginning to trace your skin with the tip of his thumb causing a light shiver to go down your spine due to the ticklish feeling as well as his deep voice which was the complete opposite to what you thought it was going to be.

‘So this is the infamous Sukuna everyone was talking about’

“Not really,” you answered as you looked at him causing his eyes to look back at you before you continued with “I don’t think it would suit me at all,”.

“I disagree,” Sukuna counteracted, as he went back to admire the blank canvas of your wrist that he wanted to draw on so badly. No not draw. Mark. “I think you’ll suit something, maybe something on your neck or collarbone at best actually,” Sukuna mentioned leading you to give him a confused expression before he then proceeded with his speech by saying, “I’ll convince you one day and mark you brat”,

‘What...did….he….just….call….me..?’

“Ah...good luck with that idiot,” you stated in an annoyed tone leading to a few of the admiring student to gasp at your wording as well as sudden confident as they were scared on what was going to happen to you now since Sukuna wasn’t the type to tolerate insults in a nice way no matter what gender you were. However, exceeding the audience’s assumptions, Sukuna began to smirk excitedly at your attitude as he suddenly found you more interesting than any other girl he has met at the back of the school.

“Be prepared, little kitten”

                                               ꕥ

‘That nickname….’

Back then Sukuna was known to be a playboy from what you could recall, every week there was news on the new girl he had managed to convince to meet at the back alley of the school while you were just being a model student with the dream of going to law school. However, during the middle of the school year, you began to realise that the common scandalous news that seemed to be popular enough for it to be on the front cover of the newspaper began to gradually fade as Sukuna slowly pushed himself into your life since you were close with his twin brother due to your friend being part of the basketball team as the assistant coach - she even mentioned that ever since Sukuna came into your life he had stopped his acts and change slightly because of you to which, of course, you denied at the time.

It was during the first term of your third-year that you agreed to give Sukuna a chance since he was constantly annoying you by popping up at the school gate after school to ‘walk you home’ ever since his graduation - when in reality it was to take you out somewhere - without fail even when you had to stay in a few hours. However, you had given him three conditions since you were still conscious of the consequences of dating someone with such a disgraceful built reputation - much to his dismay, he shockingly agreed.

If you are going to have a fling with someone behind my back, don’t think about seeing or talking to me again.

I know you are sexually active, but you have to wait until I’m ready.

Don’t tattoo me.

Let’s just say that Sukuna had managed to keep condition number one in check and you didn’t have to worry about it at all, while with condition number two he didn’t have to wait that long for you to give in to your desires which you could tell he certainly enjoyed when you finally gave him the ‘okay’.

Number three though...

“Do you want to try that design out?”

Breaking from your daze, you quickly turned your head to find your boyfriend staring at you - with the bento box practically empty at this point - while tilting his head to the paper that was still within your grasp.

“I think you giving me hickeys are enough in my opinion, babe” you jokingly mentioned leading to both you and Sukuna laughing at each other slightly.

“I mean, do you want me to draw it on you to see how it looks?” he then asked, causing you to look at the floral design one last time before giving him a hesitant nod.

‘Trying it out won’t hurt right?’

“I need a confident answer little kitten, where did that feisty attitude of yours back in high school go?” Sukuna teased, causing you to give him the side glance before giving him the verbal permission that he wanted, leading him to smirk at you since knew his mockery would get you to give him what he wanted since you were also the stubborn type - a side that he always loved to play with.

Grabbing his pen and a black pot full of his thin-tipped coloured skin markers, he wheels his chair even closer to your before pausing, leading you to look at him in confusion since you had already pulled your wrist in front of him, the same area he had grabbed back in high school.

“You’re wearing a lot of clothing today,” Sukuna muttered as he began to fiddle with the collar of your white silk dress shirt causing you to look at him with extreme confusion before mentioning, “well it is getting colder since the Autumn season is coming around,” leading him to hum in an understanding tone as he continued to play with the smooth fabric.

“I want to draw on your collarbone area, I don’t want to draw on the area where the client wanted it to be,” Sukuna stated as he lightly pushed away your wrist leading you to realise why he paused. “You can,” you quickly mentioned leading the tattoo artist to look at you to see if you were lying, only to see nothing but the light of the trust within your eyes.

Slowly, Sukuna began to reach over to the top button to then unhook it from its loop before continuously doing the same with the others until enough skin of your shoulders were exposed with the top half of your shirt resting on the side of your arms to which then he slowly moved away the right-hand side of your bra strap to fully expose the canvas that he wanted to mark so eagerly.

Admiring the skin that was in front of him, Sukuna began to trace the area with his thumb before leaning in to place a chaste kiss on the same side of your neck before cradling your face on the other side with his other hand - as if it was a way for him to say ‘thank you’ for letting him do this.

Regrettably pulling away, Sukuna quickly grabbed his black pen as he then leaned in towards your collarbone to start drawing the outline of his design on his now favourite canvas causing you to shiver somehow due to how ticklish and weird the sensation felt when the ballpoint pen continuously gently gilded upon your skin. However, what got you shaking the most was the constant feeling of your boyfriend’s breath being felt on your upper body now that your shirt was basically off - it wasn’t completely off to the same feeling when you were underneath him the first time you allowed him to make his claim on you.

“Baby, it feels ticklish,” you commented, the second you felt a different sensation upon your skin leading Sukuna to glance up to check if you were alright like you were an actual client before placing another kiss on your jawline in a way to comfort you since he had switched to his skin markers to colour in the design he had drawn on you.

“You’re being a good kitten though, you’re not moving a lot then I thought you would,” the tattoo artist whispered leading you to quiver as his deep voice was not helping so much with your beating heart - erratic to the point where you thought he could hear or even feel.

Due to Sukuna concentrating, you couldn’t help but keep silent to help him continue with his work causing you to glance around your room with your eyes before landing upon a wall where there was a multitude of messages written leading you to carefully scan the writings that were visibly presenting themselves.

As expected, there were messages of encouragement - not that the arrogant Sukuna needed it to be honest, but it was nice of the client to do so - and a few drawings from other tattoo artists that Sukuna had famously done. However, not to your surprise, there were a few numbers here and there causing you to sigh since you couldn’t help it - you couldn’t blame your boyfriend for being an extremely handsome man.

Unexpectedly, you felt another kiss being placed upon your cheek causing you to look towards your boyfriend with a smile on your face - it was as if he knew what you were looking at. “I’m finished by the way,” Sukuna announced, causing you to look at him with widened eyes since the drawing session was a little faster than you had anticipated.

Reaching over to a drawer in his desk, Sukuna suddenly pulled out a mirror before passing it to you, leading you to lift up the little instrument to see the result that was drawn on your skin.

“You changed the design,” you quietly stated, as you began to tenderly trace the design with your index finger as you began to admire the piece of art that was masterfully drawn on your collar bone. The tattoo beautifully depicted a single strand of a blooming lavender across your collarbone with each petal in different shades of purple while the buds that weren’t in bloom were in a slight pale pink shade making you smile more since Sukuna drew this straight from his head causing you to have a hint of proudness for him.

“I wasn’t going to give you that previous design, it doesn’t suit you one bit,” the salmon-haired artist mentioned as he continued with, “I’m not going to let that disgusting design touch your skin, especially since this is the first time you let me mark you somewhat,” as he then moved behind you before placing his chin on your shoulder to look at you through the mirror you were holding.

“I might let you mark me permanently then,” you suddenly announced causing your boyfriend to look at you with a surprised look on his face leading you to giggle at his reaction.

“Yeah, let’s break condition three then, you can mark me this one time,” you informed him as you turned to look at him, causing Sukuna to give you his classic smirk before possessively grabbing your chin leading him to lean closer to you.

“Let me mark you then”

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[tuscanwalker]

September 4, 2021 - Call of the Loreley

17.5 km, 680 (~2,250 ft) CUS (Cumulative Uphill Sections)

Breakfast started at 8 this morning and I was on the road by 8:20 trying to minimize the heat exposure. There were 9 others at breakfast in hiking gear but I have no idea if they planned to go the same direction. The charming man running the hotel-restaurant where I stayed was up serving until 10 last night and then cheerfully greeted us with food in the morning. We were encouraged to pack whatever we wanted for lunch (breads, meats, cheeses, fruits) and he even provided a small bag for takeaway.

I was a bit concerned about the trail today. Same as yesterday, I climbed 250 m (another 50 story building behind me) in the first 45 minutes, which gave me a great view back to Pfalzgrafenstein Castle. Next, the walking notes warned that “those subject to vertigo will not thank us”. As most of you know, I have terrible vertigo along with a very healthy respect for heights. Ask Lu-Anne what I was like in the Atlas Mountains in Morroco and she likely to use phases such as “whimpering like a baby”. Add to that the impaired balance I have suffered since losing the hearing in one ear, and this had disaster written all over it.

When I got to the traverse, it was basically a cliff up on my right, a cliff down about 500 ft to the river on my left and a side sloped path a couple of feet wide. I told myself that I must not lose my focus or become distracted and all would be fine. As most of you know, focus is my strong suit, right up until a random air molecule floats by and I drop whatever I am doing to pursue it. Despite this, it all worked out fine and I made it the half km or so to the other side without incident. Had it been raining I would have turned around and taken the train.

The next section to yet another lovely viewpoint (#875 so far), was apparently even worse. It was “a steep, narrow path” with “cable handholds” on the cliff-face to keep you from falling to your doom. The notes also warned to watch for “iron pitons sticking up where the steps have broken” away. They also suggested it might be easier to back down the trail at this point. I will never know how bad it was, as I chose to cut across the loop and avoid the issue. I like to think I was not really scared but only concerned that the Loriley’s siren call would lure me to my doom. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Besides, I had already had seen Oberwessel from three viewpoints, and one more just seemed like too much of a good thing.

While the high was 25C, it wasn’t too bad as most of the day I was in a wildlife preserve and sheltered by trees. Interestingly, on both edges of the preserve were large numbers of rather elaborate deer stands. I understand the deer and wild boar come out into the fields at dusk to eat the crops. I am sure the farmers just yell and wave flags to scare them off….right?

At midday I walked down the side of a deep gorge, crossed a small metal bridge and went up the other side. Here, I stopped at a nice bench for my picnic and saw my first walker, who was going the opposite direction. I say walker, but it was actually a runner who (simply to piss me off I’m sure), looked fresher than I did when I left breakfast. Soon oncoming walkers were common and I encountered around a hundred over the course of the afternoon (including a group leading donkeys?) Surprisingly, I was never overtaken. Surprisingly because, as my wife will tell you, I have a tendency to stroll or even meander rather than hike. By comparison most German walkers (as confirmed by this and other past walks), tend to march rapidly with purpose.

After several more viewpoints and another lovely up and down to another lovely bridge over another lovely creek I happened upon that most precious of wilderness artifacts, a beer garden (the Rheinsteig Rast) in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Of course, I had to reward this entrepreneurial spirit by stopping in for a bottle of spring water “mit gas” and a small (OK 200 ml but it was only 3€-$4.20) glass of Riesling.

Quickly back on the trail and I walked right by the huge Loreley interpretive centre. I was tempted, but there just wasn’t much more I wanted to know about the myth of a woman scorned who kills herself and then gets her revenge by luring sailors to their death on the river shoals. More interesting to me was the summer Bobsled run that was perhaps 3-400 metres long with a 50 metre vertical drop. It really got going by the bottom. Small children (say 5+) were able to ride with their parents and I’m, betting Lucas and Logan would have loved it.

Finally, ran into a German man and his dog. He indicated the dog (a Labrador he said) had had enough and he had sent his wife to get the car. He introduced the dog as Bruce and the much to my horror he said “I wanted to name him Obama because he is so brown, but my wife wouldn’t let me” (thank heaven for wives). Immediately thought of a storyLuanne tells from her child about a woman who called her black dog a pejorative name for black people. She apparently would learn out her front door and yell his name repeatedly when she wanted him to come home. Some people just don’t get it and you usually can’t explain it to them, particularly without a common language. Nice dog though and I like Bruce.

Blew into St Goar by ferry after 6 1/2 hours on the trail and nothing looked so good as that shower. Funny, when I looked in the mirror I noticed that the sweat had made the dye in my Aussie bush hat run. I looked like I was doing a bad impression of Rudi Giuliani.

[midrashic]

[headcanon] a map of hidden places i: new york city

{ a map of hidden places }

the first time james visits new york is more accident than anything; there’s a weapons expo and it’s january, and surely new york in january can’t be any more unpalatable than scotland in january. there are restaurants and boutiques whose names were, even then, synonymous with luxury, but james spends most of his time in the hotel room with the nanny playing with the puzzle ball he’d received that christmas. enid takes him to the natural history museum to see the mammoth bones, to central park to stare at the bare, shivering tree skeletons while he mounds old snow into various blobby shapes.

he doesn’t remember any of this; by the time he’s ten, new york is just a vague smear of concrete and solitude in his imagination, a glimpse of a faded marble facade that blends into all the other glimpses of all the other cities of everywhere else his father has ever had a conference.

for years, there’s the odd holiday abroad with his aunt, a trip with a school friend whose father owns a major hotel in the city or something. then there’s the navy. he learns new york in thirty-six hour stretches of shore leave, and he learns new york through the eyes of dozens of royal navy sailors, which mainly means that he learns very fast which bars near the harbor serve something roughly as strong as paint thinner for a measly two dollars per drink, or a dozen for a twenty.

but he learns other things, too. he saves up the days of walking on solid earth for the weeks when his feet won’t touch dry land and wanders into the neighborhoods that his well-to-do parents and guardians never let him anywhere near: bushwick, the lower east side, basically all of the bronx. new york city’s just hit its peak for violent crime, though someone only attempts to mug him once and gets a broken jaw for his trouble besides. the strangest thing for a brit is the gunshots that will ring out randomly, multiple times a night, but that’s true for every american city he’s ever visited.

he experiments with the subway. the tube in the 80s and 90s was no picnic, but hell, he learns, is a suspiciously empty new york subway car.

one strange thing: over the course of one particular weekend, he runs into a girl he slept with on shore leave in kingstown in a pizzeria named something uncreative like “48th street pizza,” an old university professor in a rare book store, a boy who was in the class above him at eton in bryant park, and then the girl again at a bar that night. (there is indeed a repeat performance.) this is a statistically accurate sampling of how often he recognizes a face from his past. back then, it was the third-largest city in the world, after tokyo and osaka, but it could sometimes feel very fatalistically small.

& then he’s in new york fairly often as a junior agent, but he doesn’t really tap the veins of the city until he’s a double-oh.

the thing about new york is that, for all that you tend to run into people you haven’t seen in years fairly frequently, it’s a great place to disappear. there’s no way to cover every possible exit when planning an ambush and a thousand laundromats, bars, and, hell, magic shops to duck into when you’re being tailed. vaguely seedy fleatraps that bill themselves as “youth hostels” where you can rent a room for four months and leave without anyone having asked you your name. the city seems to boast a disproportionate number of people sitting alone in the corners of coffeeshops, bars, hotel lobbies. it’s the first thing he thinks of when the name shows up in a mission briefing or news article: the pure relief of being quietly ignored, of being anyone, of being no one. he kills a drug kingpin and sips espresso at a café patio ten feet away as the police begin to boredly take statements. he garrotes a man in a bodega bathroom and no one notices for three days because it’s always out of order anyway. new york makes it so easy, so very easy to let a face become a file become a statistic. it has a carelessness with its people that he’s used to seeing in the third world, in places where the corruption is overt, in places that don’t even pretend to have a functioning police system. new york doesn’t care about you.

it also makes it so very easy to pick people up.

in a lot of ways, new york is a lot like london. it’s not every city in the world where you can get a sandwich at four am because the son of a bitch you were surveilling spent five hours haggling over uranium shipments with his contact, which was four hours and fifty minutes longer than he needed to spend. there’s a certain level of mercenary profit-seeking required to keep a sandwich shop open all night, damn circadian rhythms.

but new york takes it to excess. in london, you can probably find 24/7 takeaway within a reasonable walking distance, but in new york, you’re guaranteed to have at least five in the immediate neighborhood and eight more if you’re willing to go a little further for a substantial uptick in quality. during a particularly frustrating bit of downtime not longer after the quantum incident, bond strolls into a midnight karate class for no other reason than he’s bored and wants to see what kind of people can only do karate in the middle of the night. it’s a surprisingly friendly bunch, two night shift workers, a sleep-deprived college student, a jumpy little tweaker, and a single mother who decides to do this with her scant two hours of free time weekly. it’s taught by a petite woman who hits with the precision of an architect and used to practice jiu-jitsu competitively until a back strain caused her to switch to a sport with more standing and less rolling around on the ground.

he does try to sleep with her, but they actually end up sharing a platter of nachos in between (fittingly) manhattans at a bar and chatting about differences in karate conditioning techniques and shitty b-movies. the bartender joins in for the latter. he walks away that morning to another endless round of negotiation with the cia feeling strangely refreshed for a man who got no sleep and no sex.

bond ends up censoring his new york reports more than any other locale, not because missions go wrong in new york more often than anywhere else, but because they tend to go wrong in utterly baffling and sometimes embarrassing ways when he’s in new york. in the reports, he changes the timely plague mask-wearing flash mob that allowed him to escape his pursuer to a traffic jam, the girl wearing a dress made of lettuce that beat a terrorist into submission with her tomato purse into a well-placed police officer, the message he got painted on his nails in gold glitter to a simple note (it worked, the fsb searched him and found nothing and apparently manicured men in brioni are common enough in the city that no one even gave him a second look). new york is many things, but it spits on the dignity of the profession.

felix hates new york, hilariously. he calls it “the big asshole.” he hates the garbage sitting out on the streets, the way you can never tell whether a puddle is rain or urine, the flimsy little metrocards, the food deserts, the traffic, my god, the traffic. (bond has to agree: it’s bad. he once walked to laguardia instead of waiting for a taxi.) the only places he hates more than new york are minnesota and south sudan, which are the foreseeable consequences of a boy from texas spending his first winter away from home in the midwest and being a sane person with a functioning sense of smell. but for some reason, international criminals turn up in new york a lot more often than they do in ann arbor or south sudan, so felix has no choice but to spend sometimes weeks or months at a time in his third-least-favorite place in the world.

(bond knows why he really hates new york: in 2003 he was chasing a jewel smuggler and ran straight into a fruit cart. he was washing fruit juice out from behind his ears for a week and he lost the target. after that, anyone would hate this place.)

when bond is in midtown west, he makes a point of stopping by the trenta tre pizzeria, which boasts pizza that isn’t oily, isn’t too chewy or crisp, and boasts a sauce with a salty-to-sweet balance of flavors that make his eyes roll back in his head. he’s had the real deal, pizza lovingly crafted by hand, topped with buffalo mozzarella, and wood-fired in a tiny neapolitan back room. he knows better than to tell an italian--or anyone who he needs to think of him as a well-traveled sophisticate--but he prefers this.

coincidentally, the pizzeria is located next to a bodega that displays its fruit on wooden stands on the sidewalk. behind the peaches lives a cat, well-fed and sleek and a shameless thief of chicken parm pizza toppings. he doesn’t know her name--the owner is from rural ethiopia and doesn’t speak english, mandarin, arabic, french, german, spanish, russian, or any of the four other languages bond speaks--but in his head he’s named her selina after that greatest of feline burglars, catwoman. selina is good company after a violent mission, and almost never sheds on him, which is more than he can say about the other cats in his life. if he lingers after the pizza to pet her a little longer, no one needs to know.

the events, the new trends, the previews, the releases, blah blah blah. the access is touted more than it actually matters. he’s sure that- if he actually lived in new york he would appreciate the convenience of dwelling in the obligatory stop of every tour and the go-to place to drum up media attention. but he doesn’t and he has enough frequent flier miles that his grandchildren will probably be getting complimentary upgrades and if he really wants to be at the premiere of a much-hyped performance of la traviata he’ll make it there somehow. he does notice that the access has given new yorkers a strange sense entitlement--when a fashionable event happens someplace other than new york, the resentment is deeper, the sense of loss sharper--as if everything important should happen in new york. still. he brings home a tea flavored with the newly discovered ruby chocolate months before it becomes widely available as a souvenir for q. there are compensations. 

when q finally punches down his fear of air travel for long enough to make it to new york, bond keeps him out of manhattan. they drift around brooklyn and queens, wandering streets balanced on the knife edge of an existence that is almost suburban--dogs everywhere and strollers between the specialty shops and markets. they sit in a soda fountain famous for its egg creams and share a sundae named after elvis. q orders three different sodas--he’s a connoisseur of exotic beverages--and pronounces the house blend the best cherry soda he’s ever tasted. bond smiles at him around his ice cream float. the place is packed, every seat filled, but here, at a little round table tucked into the corner, he and q might as well be invisible, being aggressively ignored by everyone except the soda jerks. just two people, forcefully alone together. the last two people in the world.

[crowley-fe11]

Sushi & Profiteroles

You're now chatting with a random stranger.

You both like mpreg, and ineffable husbands.

Stranger: Angel, weird question, but what's hunger feel like? -C

You: Well, it can come as your mouth watering at delicious smells. A Or you can feel your stomach nag at you if you haven't eaten in a while. A Do you mind if I ask why? A

Stranger: Not really something I tend to experience much, hunger, but right now I'm fairly sure I would damn a priest or two for sushi and profiteroles. -C

You: In that case, I know of a wonderful places for both those things! A

Stranger: Think they serve 'em together? -C

You: I don't think many places do. But we can place a takeaway order for sushi and pick up some profiteroles while we're at it, if that sounds like a plan. A

Stranger: Right. Is that weird? I feel slightly like you might have just found that weird. -C But heavens yeah to takeaway. -C

You: I mean, it's a bit unusual for you, dear. But it's still perfectly fine. A

Stranger: Honestly, I feel a bit weird lately. -C

You: Well, perhaps getting what you're hungry for might help? A How else have you been feeling that way? A

Stranger: Been nauseous a couple of times -- that was weird, let me tell you. Felt like the few times I didn't sober up quick enough to beat the hangover, except without the headache. -C And honestly, to be blunt, I've been a bit... bloated. -C

You: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, my dear... A How long has this been going on? A

Stranger: I dunno. A few months maybe? -C Three months? -C

You: Why didn't you tell me sooner? A As soon as we have takeaway together, perhaps we should check on this. A

Stranger: Maybe. Been sort of ignoring it, to be honest. -C

You: Well for now, if your physical form is telling you something, it would be best to listen. A Any particular requests for sushi? A

Stranger: Saltier the better. -C I'll trust your expertise. -C

You: Of course. A

Stranger: My physical form is currently telling me it doesn't want to work with a really nice pair of cigarette-leg jeans I've had for the best part of fifty years. -C And for some insane reason that's really upsetting. -C

Stranger: Want to come over? -C

You: Of course, anything to help you feel better. A

Stranger: Thanks, angel. -C Bring food. -C Door's open for you. I'm going back to bed. -C

You: Absolutely. I'll be there as soon as I can with everything. A

Stranger: [Would you like to go to prose?]

You: (Sure! Would you like to start, or would you like me to?)

Stranger: [I'm happy to!]

Stranger: Crowley took 'going back to bed' seriously. The whole operation involved two blankets, a heavy duck-down duvet, seven pillows, and a surprisingly comforting mug of sweet tea. The offending jeans had been blasted out of existence (probably regrettable; they were a lovely vintage piece), leaving a small scorch mark on the floor, although he kept the lights low so that probably wasn't too noticeable. Black leggings and a long, loose tee-shirt seemed a much better option. As soon as he heard the door, he perked up a touch. Having Aziraphale around always made him feel a bit better, however much they might snap and bicker; even more so since the dam finally broke on the eternal question of intimacy. Maybe a hug would do him some good, too. "In here," he called through by way of greeting, unnecessarily. "C'mon in."

You: Worry seemed to still nag at Aziraphale as he picked up the sushi and pastries that Crowley had requested. Though he knew no matter what might be going on with the demon, it was likely best to make sure he did whatever he could to ease the other's mind before delving into that. Once he'd arrived at Crowley's flat, he let himself in as his love instructed and went straight for the bedroom at his call. "Hello, dear," he greeted softly as he laid eyes on the other, who looked incredibly comfortable in bed, and he brought the bag of takeaway as well as the pastry box in, setting them down carefully on the bed before he took a seat at the edge and pressed a tender kiss to the demon's forehead. "How have you been holding up?" He asked as he carded his fingers through the auburn locks, offering him a loving smile.

Stranger: Better for seeing you, Crowley thought, and mentally gave himself a little shake for being so sappy about it. "Been worse," he said out loud, which at that exact moment in time was at least the truth. No nausea; nagging hunger, if that's what it was, but nothing insurmountable; and now Aziraphale was here -- no doubt poised to fuss, but /here/, which was a rather nice thing. He shifted back and shuffled over, flicking a wave to rearrange the pillows for both of them. "Come on up here. Bring the sushi. And the pastry."

You: Aziraphale gladly took the invitation to join the other, bringing the food he'd picked up for the other as he smiled at Crowley. "Let's see if any of this makes for improvement," he added with an optimistic smile as he pulled out a box with one of the sushi rolls. "I thought the Dragon roll might be good for you, but then again, I did get a few different ones as well, if you'd prefer something else. Or if you're more hungry, even. I also got a number of profiteroles as well for that same reason," he told the demon softly as he settled in alongside him.

Stranger: Crowley was already into the sushi before he'd got the pastry up too, although happily went in at the profiteroles too. Okay, maybe sushi-and-cream-profiteroles /was/ weird, but damn it, something about the combination hit the spot. "Feel free to share," he said sidelong, almost as an afterthought, settling in - noticeably more content - by Aziraphale's side with both the sushi and the pastry within easy reach of both of them.

You: It was surprising to see how much Crowley immediately dug in. The other seldom ever expressed hunger with Aziraphale before, and if anything, the meals they shared were more for quality time on his part, even if he did have something to nibble on. Though this was anything but nibbling now. "Of course, love. I just want to make sure you have everything you want, too," the angel answered softly as he started on some of the sushi, figuring a profiterole or two would be nice afterward, if any were left over.

Stranger: It didn't take an awfully long time - actually, arguably an embarrassingly short amount of time - until most of the sushi and all but half a dozen of the profiteroles were gone. Crowley nudged the boxes over deliberately, contented, and no longer feeling so tetchy and (not that this was the word he'd have thought of) craving, and tucked himself in right by Aziraphale's side. "M'kay, well. Better. You have those, go on." He paused and rested a hand over the slight little curve at his middle, mostly hidden under the loose t-shirt. "That's not going to help with the bloated bit, but feels better, weirdly..."

You: "Well. I'm glad this hit the spot," Aziraphale answered with a smile, finishing his sushi before enjoying some of the remaining profiteroles. It was certainly unusual for the other to eat so much, and especially for any amount of it to show on his slender frame, which the angel noticed how the demon's hand rested there. Though he knew that was a touchy topic for the other at the moment, and upsetting him further by making any comment was the last thing he wanted to do. "Have you noticed anything else odd lately?" he asked curiously, still trying to wrap his head around what might be going on.

Stranger: "Not really," Crowley said thoughtfully, rubbing a bit over his middle without thinking before catching himself and shifting his hand, rather self-consciously, around to rest on top of the covers. "Told you about the nausea. Been tired, but I know that one, I'm good with tired. And hungry now." He glanced sideways. "Apparently for weird combinations. Not that you can talk," he added with a teasing grin. He'd spent more than one evening of quality time in restaurants which were no doubt the very best in the business, but struck Crowley as downright weird.

You: Aziraphale couldn't help a small chuckle at Crowley's playful accusation, and he wrapped his arm around the other's shoulders. "Of course, dear. But other than the nausea, and perhaps the tiredness, you haven't felt like anything was /wrong/, have you?" He asked softly. That was the main aspect troubling him, after all. He'd do anything in his power to help and support the demon if that were the case, though he didn't want to jump to conclusions just yet.

Stranger: Fussy, Crowley thought, but he'd known what he was inviting in when he'd asked him over -- not just takeaway, but, well, fussing. And it was sort of endearing, anyway. He let Aziraphale wrap him up in a hug and cuddled in alongside. "Nope. Apart from feeling sick a couple of times a few weeks ago -- that's gone now, best I can tell -- and... that." He sighed and tapped his midriff. "Which is-- fuck. I don't know. It's irritating me. Can't miracle it gone. Not 'cos I've been eating. And aesthetically, I mean, why's it even getting to me? 'Cos you're bigger than I am and you're bloody gorgeous."

You: "Hey, that doesn't mean you're not bloody gorgeous right now," Aziraphale answered softly. "You're lovely, beautiful, and absolutely irresistible, quite frankly. It could be a number of things, but if you'd like to, I can gently probe to at least see what's the matter?" He offered as he held Crowley close. "I can do that just as easily as I can heal someone, after all. But it's up to you."

Stranger: Crowley hesitated for just a second, then sighed and slightly reluctantly tugged the t-shirt up. There was a definite little curve there, firm, sort of... full. Certainly not flab. "Go on then." He shifted a bit to lie down, glancing back up at him almost curiously. "I s'pose, to be fair, I'd rather know, y'know?"

You: "I definitely agree with you on that," Aziraphale answered with a small nod, letting a hand move down to Crowley's abdomen, which was definitely bloated in some way, and he closed his eyes as he concentrated on the area. Though his eyes snapped open and he gasped at what he felt. The life he felt within the other. "Oh, Crowley..." He breathed, looking up at the other in awe.

Stranger: "What?" Crowley shifted up a bit, answering the awe with wide-eyed concern. "What is it? Angel--" It /probably/ wasn't terrible, but Aziraphale got excited about /misprinted bibles/, after all. Probably best to be really clear here.

You: "R-right, yes! Good lord, how do I put this?" Aziraphale stammered as he looked back at Crowley, who had worry in his gaze. He really hoped this news might give him reassurance, though it really was a lot to take in. "It feels like you're with child..."

Stranger: "I'm...?" Crowley blinked. Slowly, he raised a hand to rub lightly across the swell. "Oh... fuck... are you sure?" (Brb, sorry!!)

You: "I mean, I could sense the heartbeat, and some of their tiny movements," Aziraphale answered. "Even that they have a part of each of us..."

Stranger has disconnected.

[secretly-a-plant]

PRB 2019 15-1

Here is my contribution to the @phandomreversebang 2019! I had a lot of fun writing this fic and I would like to thank @loyal-phan and @sublimehowlter for being an amazing artist and beta! 

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19930063

The first thing that I register after hitting the damp pavement is that someone is frantically apologizing to me. When I open my eyes I see a tall dark-haired, blue-eyed man offering me a hand. I take it. His hands are smooth and warm, and I realize that I might have been holding on a second longer than acceptable.

“Oh god, I am so sorry!” I’m startled out of my embarrassment by another wave of hurried apologies.

“I was just walking Simon,” at that, I look down to a very adorable corgi sitting obediently at the man's feet “and I wasn’t paying attention and next thing I know-” “Can I pet your dog?” 

“Can you-? Um, yeah. Sure” 

I bend down and start scratching the dog, evidently named Simon, behind his ears.

“What a good boy you are! What a sweet boy.” I hear the man laughing and quickly stand up my cheeks bright red.

“Sorry,” I mumble

“No, it’s alright! I act the same way whenever I see a dog. I should be the one apologizing, your clothes are all wet now.”

“It’s alright, I was on my way home from work anyway.”

“Are you sure? I feel terrible about it.”

‘No really it’s fine, uh,” I break off not sure what his name is.

“Phil.” He supplies with a smile.

“It’s alright Phil.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. It was nice running into you, Phil.”

“Yeah, nice seeing you.”

---

By the time I get home my legs are starting to chafe from the wet denim. It’s alright though, the cute dog more than made up for it. It’s a good thing it happened on my way home from work, however. It would have been hell waiting tables all day with wet jeans. And as kind as my boss is, she never goes easy on us. Especially on Sundays, which just so happens to be our busiest day. 

After a delicious yet slightly pathetic dinner of cold pizza, thoughts of Phil and his dog invade my brain. Out of curiosity I pull out my phone and type Phil into the Instagram search bar. Of course, millions of results pop up. I didn’t have high hopes, but there was a small part of me holding on to the hope that I might be able to find his account using only his first name.

After my fruitless Instagram search, I find myself drifting towards my bed, despite it only being around 9:45. Oh well, long day I guess.  Surprisingly, since it normally takes me ages to fall asleep, I find my eyes drifting shut the minute I hit the mattress.

---

I wake up early, for once, which means I actually have time to enjoy my morning rather than throwing on yesterday’s clothes and quite literally running out the door. I take my time getting out of bed, stopping to look at my phone and take time to wake up. When I finally reach my small kitchen (which didn’t take very long considering how small my flat is) I realize that I have no coffee. I let out a disgruntled sigh as I come to terms with the fact that if I want caffeine, which I do, that I’ll have to head to work early putting my lazy morning to a halt. I grab my keys and head out.

I take my time walking to work, choosing to take the scenic route. Rather than the normal path I take, which has a superb view of trash cans and shady alleyways, today's route is lined with shops and restaurants and a Starbucks. The prospect of going and getting a latte of some sort seems much more appealing than getting a black coffee in a chipped mug. The minute I walk in I’m hit with a wave of warm air. A pleasant contrast to the icy weather outside. I start to head up to the counter, but I stop in my tracks when I come face to face with a pair of familiar blue eyes. 

“Dan!” Phil says with a smile on his face. “What a coincidence!”

I find a smile growing on my face, what can I say? Something about his unwavering happiness is infectious.

“Oh, hi Phil!”

“Can I get you a coffee? I mean obviously, I’m assuming that's why you're here.”

“Uh-” I don’t come here very often, and the combination of my awkwardness in social situations and my lack of familiarity with the menu has me tripping over my words. “Surprise me? Just something with caffeine please.”

“You got it,” Phil responds with a chuckle. I start to pull out my wallet but he cuts me off. “Don’t worry about it, this one’s on the house.”

“It’s fine Phil, really.”

“No seriously, it’s the least I can do after running you over yesterday.”

“Well if you insist. I’ve never been one to turn down free coffee.” I say with a small laugh. 

Phil smiles, before motioning over at the station. “Well if that’s all, I’m just going to go make your coffee.” He awkwardly gestures before walking away. I pull out my phone, scrolling through my Instagram feed while I wait for my coffee. After a few minutes, I see Phil walking back over with a cup in his hand. He hands it to me and looks up expectantly, waiting for me to take a sip. 

“Jesus Phil, this is incredible! What is this?” He laughs

“Caramel Macchiato. My personal favorite.”

“Well if your choice in drinks is always this good you're going to have to surprise me again next time.” My phone buzzes with an alarm reminding me that I have obligations. 

“Oh shit, I have to go, hopefully, I’ll run into you again soon.”

“Yeah, see you soon.”

It’s not until I’m almost at work that I notice a phone number messily scrawled onto the side of my cup.

---

I spend the majority of my break writing and deleting texts to Phil. He’s cute, there's no denying that, and he gave me his number, but it was probably just a friendly gesture. He seems like the type of person who makes friends with everyone. After many texts that I decide are either cringy, boring, or a combination of the two I settled on a simple but reliable ‘Hi its dan :)” and force myself to press send. I spend the last few minutes of my break opening and closing my phone and jumping every time my phone dings. In order to keep the anxiety at bay, I keep reminding myself that he’s at work;  it makes sense if he doesn’t respond. Just because I’m on my break doesn’t mean he’s on his. Eventually, I have to go back to work, leaving my phone and a supposedly unread text in the pocket of my jacket. 

 All throughout the rest of my shift, my walk home, and while making and eating dinner, I try and fail, to forget about my text to Phil. Finally, after I’ve eaten and sunk into my bed for some quality binge-watching time, my phone buzzes. As I reach over, it buzzes again. And then a third time. I laugh to myself as I open my messages to see three texts from Phil.

Hi!!! soz I took so long to reply ^-^ 

have a dog to make up for it

what a good boy!

Is that simon???? 

yes! Im surprised you remembered his name lol

hes the reason i knocked you down yesterday 

well if hes the reason i really cant complain

in fact i feel blessed to have been knocked down by that angel

maybe youd want to meet him again? maybe this time without ending up on the ground lol

I hesitate what to say to that, it feels risky meeting up with Phil. Even if he seems friendly, I did only meet him yesterday. But I also don’t want to pass up the opportunity to get to know him better. 

um yes?

Yay! do you want to meet up tomorrow? Im off of work

yee

starbucks?

sure, me and simon cant wait :)

We end up texting for a while after that. Originally we were just arranging a time to meet, but it slowly turned into Phil asking me about my job, which led to many other things. The more I talked to Phil the more I liked him. We had very similar interests. We had the same taste in video games, music, and even takeaway places. Not to mention talking to Phil felt easy. Social interaction isn't exactly my forte, but with Phil, the conversation flowed smoothly. It would be nice to have a friend outside of work. I love my coworkers and my boss, but it’s not really the same. Besides, the diner is more a family to me than anything. Finally, the conversation winds down, both of us beginning to fall asleep. Even though I’m no longer texting him, I can’t stop thinking about Phil as I fall asleep. 

---

The next day is sunny. A welcome change from the perpetual moistness that has haunted London for the last few days. I spend most of the morning laying in bed scrolling through social media. Not the healthiest past time I’ll admit, but once I get started on the Instagram explore page it’s hard to tear myself away. Eventually, I look at the time and realize that I only have about an hour before I’m supposed to meet Phil. After five more minutes, I drag myself out of bed and towards the shower. 

Several outfit changes later, Starbucks is finally within my line of vision. I check the time to see that I still have a few minutes before Phil is due to get here so I take a seat on a bench and resume my scrolling. Not long after I sit down, however, I am attacked by a bundle of saliva and tan fur, accompanied by frantic calls of “Simon down!”. 

“Hello there!” I say bringing my hands up to try and protect myself from the onslaught of dog. 

“I’m so sorry about him, normally he’s so well behaved, I don’t know why he always jumps on you.”

“It’s really not a problem, Phil,” I say laughing. 

“Well if you insist I guess. Do you want a coffee or anything while we're here?”

“I’m fine, I don’t want to keep you and Simon waiting.”

“Oh, well if you don’t mind I thought you could stay out here with Simon and I could go in and order.”

“I mean I’m always up for hanging out with dogs, but I really can’t have you buying me another coffee.”

“Seriously Dan, it’s fine. Think of it as a gift from Simon. Besides, I have an employee discount.”

I shrug, smiling. I take Simon’s leash from Phil and sit back down.

“Oh, Dan, what do you want?” I find myself breaking into a giant grin, enough to make my dimples pop. 

“Surprise me.”

---

Two sugary coffees later and more walking then I do on a normal day, Phil and I are tossing tennis balls at a dog park. 

“This is one of my favourite places to go with him,” Phil says, gesturing at Simon. “It’s a nice change of pace to be outside rather than stuck on a pavement block all day.”

“Mm. What else do you like to do in your spare time?”

“Uh, well, to be honest, I don’t really go outside that much. I pretty much spend the rest of my time staying inside on the internet.” 

“Me neither to be honest, I spend most of my free time participating in online Mario Kart tournaments, as sad as that seems.”

“You play Mario Kart? We should race sometime.” “Only if you want to lose, Philip.”

“Oh really? Pretty confident for never having seen me play.”

“While I guess we’ll have to change that.”

“It’s a date. Well I mean, not a date date, unless you wanted to. But I mean, I don’t want to presume-”

“Phil, Phil, don’t worry, a date sounds nice. Although, to be honest, I’ve never been asked on a Mario Kart date before. But it does sound much more my style than a fancy dinner. “

“Me too, I’m not much of an extrovert. Oh shit, it’s getting dark. I should probably head home, but I’ll text you yeah?” 

“Yeah sounds great. And Phil?”

“Yeah?” “I definitely prefer your company to video games.”

---

It takes a couple of weeks to find a date that works for both of us, first because of work, and then Phil got sick, and then I got sick. But, on the bright side, we spend almost all of that time texting and face timing, and occasionally I run into him at Starbucks when I’m grabbing a coffee. Unfortunately, my minimum wage and tips don’t cover daily overpriced coffee, even if it means I get to see a very nice, attractive, person. 

On the bright side, we did eventually find a time. That time happens to be tonight, and to say I’m nervous would be an understatement. I end up spending about 45 minutes sorting through every article of clothing that I own before finally settling on jeans and a jumper, an outfit that is safe but far from extraordinary. After getting dressed I spend longer than necessary trying to get my hair to cooperate. Eventually, I just give up and call a cab. One extremely awkward cab ride later and I’m standing outside Phil’s door.  I take a deep breath and raise my hand but before I get a chance to knock the door swings open.

“Dan! Hi! Come in, I’m sorry about the mess, I tried to clean but it's still pretty untidy.” I look down at my feet to see Simon wagging his tail excitedly. “It’s alright, my apartment is probably twice as bad.” As I walk into Phil’s flat and take my shoes off I notice that every surface is covered in something. The bookshelves are covered in plushies and figurines, the windowsills are adorned with plants in a questionable state of health, and the couch has a colourful blue and green quilt draped over the back. All in all, it just looks very Phil. 

“If you want you can have a seat on the couch and I can order a pizza. What type do you like?” I’m startled out of my thoughts by Phil’s voice. I smile, feeling more content with my life then I have in a long time. 

“Surprise me.”

~10 years later~

“The last ten years haven’t been easy. There’s been ups and downs, fortunately mostly ups. But you have been by my side for all of it. People and places have changed but you have remained a constant. I don’t know what life will bring, but I know I want you to be with me. I want to fall asleep next to you every night and wake up next to you every morning. So, Phil Lester, will you marry me?”

[flairmagazineblog]

Seven Fortunes; Coffee Beyond Tradition

Having recently launched their newest branch in Waterway, New Cairo, Seven Fortunes is arguably among the finest coffee brands you will come across in Egypt right now. We talked to Egyptian founder, Karim Hassan, who never offers a coffee to someone without drinking it with him. With that pace, he ends up drinking about ten cups a day, which is something we wouldn’t recommend but you get the picture of the passion and heart behind this exceptional brand.

“What amazes me everyday is how coffee brings people together. It’s always a sensory experience that you can share with family and friends.”

How did your coffee brand come about at the beginning?

Surprisingly it was a big mistake. To give you a quick backstory, I grew up in the Middle East and then went to university in Toronto. At the time, I had no clue about coffee and neither did I drink it, but I was working at Second Cup for a short period inside the school library. I realized all my friends were drinking their coffee at Tim Hortons, which was just around the corner. For some reason, I got bothered that they were drinking coffee elsewhere and I just had this sense of responsibility to start thinking about ways to increase traffic at the cafe. My takeaway was that we didn’t provide their coffee of preference, and I decided to sneakily use Tim Hortons’ beans in Second Cup machines. When I secretly told them, they started coming to the cafe and enjoying the coffee. This is how I began to develop a sensory experience in knowing the different tastes provided by different types of coffee from a commercial standpoint. As I traveled around the world, I actually began drinking coffee regularly and developed a habit for it. After that, I worked at a company in Toronto called Fidelity and I was constantly complaining about how bad the coffee was at the office. One day, the facilities manager came up to me and said, “You’re the guy who’s always complaining about the coffee in his emails to upper management?” He said there’s a company that’s coming to do a tasting, so come, try their coffee and tell us which type is best suited for the building. From that moment on, I was inspired to create something of my own but I kept that idea parked.

Fast forward a few years, I returned to Dubai and continued my career in finance with another major asset management firm. For some reason, I didn’t have access to any good coffee around me, so I took the risk of starting a project on the side of my fulltime job. I fitted a small roastery in Dubai’s industrial area. I sourced a few bags of the finest green coffee beans. Slowly, I started supplying a few cafes in the neighbourhood. Business started picking up from one cafe to the next, and eventually, I decided to quit my job because it was becoming very overwhelming for me to balance both. A couple of years later, Seven Fortunes is currently supplying to hotel chains, like the Renaissance, the W, the JW Marriott and the Ritz Carlton. I found myself up against competition like Illy and Lavazza, which are huge multinational chains; we had carved a reason for boutique hotels to work with smaller companies with a strong passion to deliver quality products.

When did you decide to bring your business to Egypt?

 My parents were consistently encouraging me to expand into Egypt. At first glance, I wasn’t convinced but before jumping into any judgments, I had to study the market better. After a few months of research I must say, my love for Egyptians and its culture drove my passion to influence and educate. 

100 million people are drinking average to poor coffee! Change must happen, and this instantly became my personal mission. I decided in late 2018 that I was going to enter the coffee industry in Egypt. I’m originally Egyptian and I simply loved the idea of sharing my coffee passion here.

From where do you source your beans?

I get my beans mainly from coffee-growing regions around the world. I’ve developed very close relationships with farmers that grow the crop in agricultural countries like Brazil, Colombia, Guatemala and Costa Rica. I buy beans specifically grown for Seven Fortunes. At the beginning, you start buying the coffee from traders but once you start building relationships with individual farmers, you get the advantage of sourcing the cream of the crop.

While anyone on the street can buy good coffee, a very limited quantity of people actually get their hands on the highest quality coffee. And there’s a reason for this – no matter how many acres a farmer has, he usually puts aside the cream of the crop for roasters like Seven Fortunes, whom he knows will treat the product well and transfer his name onto the market. We like to be transparent in how we do business, for instance you will find the source of each coffee on my coffee bags, and every farmer gets his name printed on our bags. This is the kind of relationship we like to build with them, and of course, it took time – around four to five years to build.

Why call it Seven Fortunes?

 Interesting that you ask! It took me nine months to develop the name and the branding. I arrived at the name three different ways. First, I chose the number seven for being associated with a lucky connotation in our Arabian culture. It’s relatable because, for example, in Egypt we have one of the seven wonders of the world which is the Pyramids. The brand was also founded in Dubai, which is one of the seven emirates of the UAE. It’s meaningful to me, so wherever I am in the world, I can relate to the number and I feel like it’s a point of engagement with consumers. As for the word fortunes, as far back as I can remember, my aunties would tell each other their fortunes using coffee cups. The term Seven Fortunes also relates back to a mystical story in the history of coffee – the story of the Seven Seeds.

We love that you made your brand accessible for both expert coffee connoisseurs and absolute beginners. How do you balance both audiences?

Honestly, I encourage people to drink coffee the way they like to drink it. Do it your way. If you’re a person who enjoys a classic Cappuccino, then go for it and Seven Fortunes will make sure you have the best quality coffee in your Cappuccino. If you like Espresso or American-style coffee, we’ll make that for you. There’s no need for us to over-complicate it. As long as you have a great quality coffee, you can make it anyway you want and it will taste exceptional. Coffee is so rooted in our culture that we’ve been drinking it for years and Arabs kind of already know what they like. There are so many flavor profiles you can experience. Once you engage any of my team members with coffee-related questions, be prepared to take notes.

A simple sensory example we like to share is the different flavor profiles of coffee. Brazil is completely different from coffee from Ethiopia. Generally, Central American coffee tends to be nutty or chocolaty and African coffees tend to be fruity or floral. If I can educate you about the options, which is our purpose, I can guide you to find out your preference.

Our brand image is sophisticated but we’re also inviting to anyone who is interested to learn about coffee. I believe in always meeting the consumers where they’re at. I take it step-by-step – first, I provide the coffee that they know they like. Then, I introduce them to a few more flavor profiles. That’s when the experience begins.

Tell us about the barista training you offer for those who would like to venture.

I am part of an internationally-recognized group of trainers, which is quite commonly known as Specialty Coffee Association (SCA). There are actually many pillars you can study in the coffee world. There’s a diploma system that you can earn within a year. You travel to the United States, the UK or Dubai to get the training, given by people like myself. This is what I wanted to bring to Egypt. Most people who tell you they are certified are probably certified in one or two courses but rarely will you find people who earned a full diploma.

There are five categories you can dig into. One of them is just learning about all the flavor profiles in the coffee world and being able to differentiate when a coffee is nutty, fruity or what taste it resembles – whether you can detect caramels, vanilla or fruits. Another category is all about brewing and preparing coffee manually. Then, there’s the barista category where you prepare coffee using espresso machines, and there’s green coffee, which is a whole different avenue about understanding and evaluating coffee directly from the farms. The last one is roasting.

You’re definitely way more than just a roastery. Do you have any plans to expand your services even further in the future?

When I came to Egypt, I set up the business to supply cafes, restaurants and hotels – a field which brought me a lot of success in the Middle East. However, I failed very quickly. Most of the hotels and business owners expressed no interest in providing higher quality coffee at their venues. They wanted to continue using commercial quality coffee and satisfy the already existing demand instead of taking a leap of faith in educating consumers about better options; although there is a very small price difference between commercial and specialty coffee. In the past year, I shifted my strategy in order to achieve success in my wholesale coffee business.  I’ve decided to open coffee shops to encourage other businesses to see the quality that really works. I’m creating this proof of concept to encourage a shift to specialty coffee over commercial coffee in the Egyptian market. I’m here to make an influence. My vision is to create supply rather than cater to a demand. We also want to empower more consumers to make the coffee they love at home, and in general, drink better coffee.

Seven Fortunes; Coffee Beyond Tradition was originally published on FLAIR MAGAZINE

[fadingfartconnoisseur]

Bucharest is Fabulous and Fun

There are a number of countries where it’s recommended to arrive in the capital city and then get out as soon as possible.

The Philippines? Yeah, I’d get on board with that. I find Manila vile, but the rest of the country is lovely.

Nicaragua? Agreed. Managua has nothing to offer — you’re best off skipping town and heading to nearby Granada.

But what about Romania? Well, lots of travelers treat Bucharest, Romania’s capital, the same way, only passing through briefly before heading to the towns of Transylvania. But they really shouldn’t do that.

And this is where I raise my hand and admit that I’m guilty, too. Back in 2013, I found cheap flights from Istanbul to Skopje and, two weeks later, from Bucharest to Dubai, so I planned a big Macedonia-Kosovo-Bulgaria trip and only planned to arrive in Bucharest the night before my flight.

So what did I do on that first trip to Bucharest? I arrived off the train ride from hell, took a shower, got some pizza, slept in a dorm, and shared a taxi to the airport the next day. Not exactly hardcore tourism.

For years, I hated the fact that I counted Romania as a visited country but hadn’t done anything of value in Bucharest. But then I got a perfect opportunity to make up for that.

#ExperienceBucharest: A New Kind of Travel Influencer Campaign

Earlier this spring, my friend Monica told me about a new campaign taking place in May: #ExperienceBucharest. Several bloggers would be invited to a conference and event to show off the city.

Now, this was different than other blog trips. Most of the time, a PR agency rakes in the big bucks while the bloggers, the people who create the actual content, are undercompensated. In this circumstance, however, #ExperienceBucharest was put together by a team of volunteers who work in the travel industry in Bucharest.

This major campaign was put together by volunteers. They worked their asses off and made no money doing it — they just wanted to share Bucharest with the world and get more people to travel here.

They did it for love of their city.

When I heard that, I knew I wanted to be part of this campaign. And not only because it would give me a chance to visit some new Eastern European countries. I really enjoy trying to find the nicer places in less-appreciated cities like Colombo and Johannesburg.

So did this trip pay off? Did it ever.

Bucharest is an awesome city.

Bucharest is like Berlin. Alternative and gritty with epic nightlife.

Bucharest is like Paris. Grand and elegant and pulsating with style.

Bucharest is like Budapest. Weathered and proud and cultured.

And on top of that, Bucharest is a very affordable European city, it’s well-connected in terms of flights, the food is delicious, and the people are absolutely lovely.

I found the defining aspect of Bucharest to be its look — so many beautiful and elegant buildings, only they were interspersed with ugly communist architecture and covered in graffiti. At one point, I turned to my friend and said, “Bucharest feels like Paris if they neglected themselves.”

I don’t mean that as an insult — just an observation. I saw pictures of Bucharest from the late 19th century and it looked just like Paris. Maybe they didn’t prioritize their beauty; maybe it was simply bad luck and having to prioritize safety over beauty in times of upheaval.

But that look isn’t everything.

Bucharest has alleys that turn into elegant arcades.

Bucharest has traditional restaurants with stained glass.

Bucharest knows how to peekaboo.

Bucharest has murals all over the place.

Bucharest hides cheese in its tomato soup.

Bucharest is very gray.

But Bucharest can be gold, too.

Cafe Culture

Like elsewhere in Central Europe, Bucharest is all about the cafes. You go in the morning or afternoon for coffee, and by nightfall, people have switched to beer and wine.

One that I loved in particular is a little place called Artichoke Coffee Shop. It’s got plants perched on spiral staircases, water served in gin bottles, chunky chocolate chip cookies, and smooth flat whites that transport you straight to Australia. In other words, it’s Instagrammable as hell but with the delicious goods to back it up.

Greenery Everywhere

Bucharest is covered with parks — something that I didn’t expect in an Eastern European city. But Bucharest is actually one of the greenest cities in Europe.

I went to see Mogosoaia Palace on the outskirts of the city. It’s actually a pretty small palace, so don’t devote a whole day to it, but it’s a really nice place to stroll around and experience the greenery of the city.

May happened to be an excellent time to visit — I’ve never seen so many irises in bloom in my life!

Rooftop Bars

If you feel like drinking on a rooftop in Bucharest, you’re in luck: Pura Vida Sky Bar has excellent views in the heart of the Old Town. The cocktails are fabulous, too.

Yeah, you’ll have to walk up five flights of stairs, but trust me, it’s worth it.

The nightlife in Bucharest is pretty insane — Romanians like to party hard. Do yourself a favor and stay away from the bars catering to British stag dos and instead head up to Pura Vida for an Aperol spritz or some blue wine.

Want something crazier? Head to the Player Club to dance all night long with Romanians dressed to the nines.

Seeing Bucharest Through the Eyes of the Homeless

One activity in Bucharest that interested me the most was the Outcast Bucharest Tour from Urban Adventures, which is led by a guide who was once homeless in Bucharest.

Our guide Sergiu, dark and thin and in his late twenties, lived on the streets of Bucharest for years. He was an addict. He lost many loved ones to drugs. He did everything he could to survive. And eventually an NGO helped him climb out of homelessness and build a life for himself. Today he lives in an apartment and has a job.

A lot of poverty-focused tours, like slum tours and visits to impoverished villages, can venture into exploitative territory, but this one does everything the right way. It treats the homeless with dignity and respect, it’s not remotely voyeuristic, it creates jobs for the formerly homeless, and all net proceeds go to the Parada Foundation, a local NGO that gets children off the streets.

Sergiu’s story moved me deeply, and I’m so grateful that he’s getting his life together.

If you want to have an unforgettable experience in Bucharest, please go on this tour. You’ll never forget it.

The World’s Largest Collection of Irons

I love a few quirks in a city, and the best one I found in Bucharest was at the Museum of Romanian Records. They are home to the world’s largest collection of irons.

Yes. Irons.

I love crazy things like this — the weirder, the better. There are more irons there than you have ever seen in your life (well, I guess by being the world’s largest collection, that’s kind of obvious) — just when you think you’ve seen them all, they keep on going!

   Get your mind out of the gutter. Those torpedo-shaped irons are for shaping collars and hats.

The Loveliest Chill-Out Spot in Town

On my final night in Bucharest, we had a going-away party at Podstel/Ceainaria 5, a combination hostel, tea house, and community meeting space. I had the most wonderful time here, and if you’re visiting Bucharest, you need to drop by.

I spent my time getting to know the owners and not only are they awesome people, but they were so smart in creating a hostel that ticks all the boxes. Not only did they optimize the (beautiful and modern) hostel itself, it was also important to them to have community.

So they have donation-based group dinners once a week. They have board game nights. Local musicians perform. There are yoga classes and all kinds of workshops. If you’re looking to meet people while traveling in Bucharest, I can’t imagine a better place to come than here.

In an age where hostels have gone from social gathering spots to places where people sit with their faces in their phones, it’s nice that Podstel is trying to bring back the community part of backpacking.

I think Podstel was my favorite place I discovered in Bucharest. So if you want to stay at a hostel, I encourage you to stay there. If you’re not into hostels, at least drop by for some tea (they have dozens of varieties) and a chance to hang out in that comfy outdoor room. Tell the guys that I say hi!

The Takeaway

I had such a nice time in Bucharest — an even better time than I was expecting.

I also feel like I didn’t see a fraction of what the city had to offer. Several of my friends arrived earlier and stayed later and got to take in a lot more — racecar driving, architecture photo hunts, communism tours, dance parties, dinners where a whole lamb was roasted on a spit.

A lot of people skip Bucharest in favor of other Romanian destinations, but now that I’ve experienced it, I hope that more people get the chance to explore Bucharest. If the rumblings are true, perhaps some of us will be back for an #ExperienceRomania trip next!

Essential Info: In Bucharest I stayed at the Radisson Blu. I absolutely loved this hotel, its design its luxurious touches, and the business areas. It’s also in a central location near the Old Town. If you’re looking for something on the luxury end but still surprisingly affordable, this is a great choice. Rates from 89 EUR ($100 USD). Just know that they put a hold of 89 EUR per night on your card until you check out — that’s the most I’ve ever had held by a hotel and it gave me a brief heart attack when I saw nearly $500 withdrawn on my bank statement!

You can find more hotels in Bucharest here.

Rates at Podstel start at 12 EUR ($14) per night. Thanks to Podstel for letting me use their photos of their property in this post.

The Outcast Bucharest Tour from Urban Adventures costs $47.38 per person.

Don’t visit Bucharest without travel insurance. Whether you get appendicitis and need to be hospitalized, or your phone gets stolen, or an injury means you need to cancel all or part of your trip, travel insurance will help you out. I use and recommend World Nomads as travel insurance for trips to Romania.

Many thanks to the #ExperienceBucharest team for hosting me in Bucharest. They covered my flights to Bucharest, accommodation, tours, and most meals and drinks. All opinions, as always, are my own.

Have you been to Bucharest? What did you think?

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