#or it is but it's anything we might impulse buy as we continue our search

[sing-you-fools]

I love when I search for something and the search function is like "hey I'm not gonna tell you this but I went ahead and included a bunch of relevant terms in the search for you, too! we'd hate for you to miss anything!" like wow the internet is so good now right?

what I searched: Freddie Purrcury

what I got: a whole fucking lot of monarchy memorabilia

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

Hello, can I have some head canons for the brothers? When their s/o gains a demon form (maybe the form is similar to theirs?) due to being pacts with them

Brothers When MC Is Reborn As A Demon And Gains A Similar Form To Their Own 

Paired these two together. Hope you both like it! 

Lucifer

Your death was both expected, and unexpected at the same time. Humans were fragile like that, but it still didn’t make it any easier for him to get over it. He could tell that you were back, although not the way he wanted you to be, he could see the little orb that was you, and with that orb would come your familiar scent. Usually you’d visit him in his office, and he’d quietly talk to you, and if he focused hard enough he could almost hear you talking back to him. It didn’t last long though, and soon your orb stopped coming around, it was almost as if you had died a second time… that is until you showed up at his office. You weren’t an orb anymore, but you weren’t yourself, at least not the you he remembered. You had horns, they resembled his so clearly, and the black diamond birthmark that he wore so proudly on his forehead when in his own form, you had a matching one on your sternum. You were… beautiful, to say the least. The resemblance filled him with pride and stroked his ego more than he’d like to admit. You had always been his, but now you truly looked the part. 

“Welcome back home, Darling.” 

Mammon 

He didn’t take your death well, at all. He sat in his room crying for days after you had passed, and he refused to leave for anyone or anything. Even the promise of Goldie didn’t drag him out of his somber state. When your orb first appeared, that was the first time he left his room, screaming as he ran out the door. You were such a bright ball of light, and it hurt his eyes to stare at it for too long, but he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of it, off of you. The sense of comfort it brought when it was around, he knew that it was you. He started expecting to see it, and when your orb stopped showing up he searched the entire house, slumping back to his room when he couldn’t find his little ball of light, he couldn’t find you. When he opened the door he was shocked. There you were, sitting proudly on his couch. Your horns were exactly like his, and he slowly walked toward you, noticing the golden lines that traced along your torso, much like his own. Gold… his favorite color, his favorite thing, it was a way of showing everyone that you were his. His human… not anymore… not quite. You were his… demon. 

“Oi! Why’d it take so long for ya tah come back?!” 

Leviathan 

Broken, that’s how he felt when he lost you. He wasn’t okay, and according to him nothing would be okay again. Everyone knew he had the tendency to be just the slightest bit over dramatic about things, but your death even had them upset, not like he was though. He was sitting in his room, he had been gaming for about 16 hours straight when he first saw the orb of light, dancing in front of the screen. He thought it was just the light of the screen reflecting off his eyes, that is, until the orb moved, going around his head a few times only to stop next to the bathtub. Your name slipped from his tongue in a whisper, finally pushing himself away from his desk and following you to the bathtub. It was like a blanket of peace enveloped him when your orb was around, just like when you were alive. Then you stopped coming, your light stopped showing up in his room. Even as a spirit you got tired of him, at least, that’s what he thought. He was heading back to his room after getting a package from the front door, impulse buying to try to make himself feel slightly better about losing you a second time. At first he didn’t notice, going straight to his computer to begin unboxing, then he heard your voice, his name, his head turning around so fast he could have broken his own neck. You were sitting in his bathtub, smiling up at him as a tail… your tail… you had a tail now, flicking happily over the side of the tub. Your head was adorned with horns that looked so much like his, but instead of four points on each horn, you only had two. He loved it, you looked like him, you looked like you were his… and now you really were. 

“Y-You’re back, I missed you so much!”

Asmodeus 

Death was such a beautiful thing to him, beautiful and bittersweet. Your death was no different, seeing you layed out so peacefully, you looked as gorgeous in death as you did in life. Still, once your body had been removed, there was an emptiness, a strange loneliness that engulfed him. Not even his own reflection could make him smile, how strange that a human like you could cause such a hole in his life. He tried to fill the void with self-care days and shopping trips, but it was useless if he wasn’t doing it with you. Sitting at his vanity, he stared at his own reflection, his eyes dull, not glowing nearly as bright as they used to. That’s when the little ball of light caught his eye, darting back and forth behind his head, trying to make him look, you were trying to get his attention. He smiled softly, knowing immediately that it was you, his eyes glistening with tears as they followed your orb. You became a constant presence in his room, one that he held onto dearly. He might have lost the sparkle in his eye when he lost you, but you had come back as the physical manifestation of that sparkle. He came back to his room, calling out for you quietly, knowing that you’d be there, his favorite little ball of light, except this time you called back to him. He pushed open his door so quickly, his eyes wide and a beautiful smile gracing his features as he took you in. Your horns matched his to a T, right down to the pink tips, you had one heart shaped birthmark right over where your heart was that matched the hearts that adorned his left arm. You had one tiny set of wings, much smaller than his own, and instead of having double on each side, you only had one wing on each side. You were beautiful, and dare he say it, almost as beautiful as him. 

“I’ve been waiting so long for you! Come here, beautiful!” 

Satan 

Getting attached to you was the best thing, and the worst thing he could have done. Allowing himself to get close to you and love you, it was the greatest decision he had ever made, while simultaneously being the most awful. He had never lost someone he loved before, only hearing stories of how hard it had been on his brothers when they lost Lilith. The pain was foreign to him, so when he experienced it, it hit way harder than it would have hit anyone else. He locked himself in the library, burying himself in books and meaningless research that he had no need for, it was just something to get his mind off of you. The ball of light that began to circle him, at first, was irritating. He just wanted to read, and he thought that Mammon was messing with him, like an owner would tease their cat with a laser light. Then he felt the coldness, the calming chill that almost felt like your touch when the orb landed on his shoulder. That’s when he knew it was you, and, although he knew that you were there, it didn’t ease the pain much more than his books did, but he tried. He would read his books quietly to you, to your orb, just as he had read to you when you were alive. It became a daily occurrence, going down to the library to read to your spirit, but this time was different. He opened the doors to the library and saw your form sitting in front of the fireplace. The shape of your horns… his horns… protruding from the side of your head, a long black tail wrapped around your body, the tip flicking back and forth as you watched the flames. His body filled with pride as he walked toward you, stroking his fingers along your new horns, before kneeling down behind you. 

“It’s wonderful to see you, kitten. Shall we continue our story?” 

Beelzebub 

Losing you was the second hardest thing for him, only next to Lilith. He knew it would happen at some point, you were only human, but it didn’t make it any easier for him to handle. He only had two moods, eat away the sadness, or let the sadness eat away at him. His days were either spent in the kitchen devouring everything, or laying in his bed and not eating at all, letting his stomach burn and ache with hunger, but it still wasn’t nearly as close to the pain he felt in his chest. Your name was whispered from his lips late at night, the room empty other than him, Belphie had already moved himself up to the attic so he could actually sleep at night and not be woken by Beels crying. The bright light seemed to blind him, illuminating the dark room with brilliant white. It was as if someone was shining a flashlight straight at him, but he didn’t feel angry or irritated by it which he usually would have been. His urge to cry seemed to fade completely, his hunger seemed to disappear as well, it was a feeling only you could give him. His eyes couldn’t move from the light, and he actually reached out to touch it, his fingertips feeling cold as he moved his hand closer to the orb. A shiver ran down his spine, but even with the chill, he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. In some way you were back, and even a small orb of comfort was enough for him. He hadn’t seen your orb at all that morning, and while it was upsetting, he knew that you’d come visit the room. For now, he was hungry, and for once he felt like he could actually eat, walking quickly down to the kitchen and stopping dead in his tracks. There you were, leaning against the counter and smiling sweetly to him. The horns on your head, they were like his but pointing downwards instead of up like his were. You had birthmarks, much like his own along your lower back, a small set of wings protruding from your upper back. Everything about your form was a reverse of his own, but when together, it was like you fit together like puzzle pieces. Not only did you fit together, but you looked like you belonged together, and you did. He would never let you go, not anymore. 

“You’re home! You’re finally home!” 

Belphegor 

Of course you died, at least this time it wasn’t his fault though, it was just… time. Time, which had a sick way of giving and taking. First Lilith, and now you, death wasn’t anything new to him, that didn’t make it hurt any less though. It was time to sleep away the pain, it was all he knew how to do. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings, not with anyone, not even Beel. It was easier to deal with these things without actually facing them, he didn’t have to face the reality that you were gone while he was sleeping, because in his dreams you were still there, you were still with him. Your voice called his name, and even in his dreams it sounded so clear, like you were right next to him, and somehow it even felt like you were. His eyes shot open, looking around the room for you or for whoever would have been stupid enough to play this kind of prank on him. The light was blurry at first, sleep still clouding his vision. He quickly wiped the sleep from his eyes, finally focusing on the orb that hovered over the end of his bed. It was you, he could tell it was. Only you and Beel were allowed up in the attic, and he had locked the door so no one else could get in. It wasn’t the same, not even close. He couldn’t hold a tiny orb in his arms at night to help him fall asleep, but the presence of your orb brought about your scent, your emotions, your aura of calmness, it was all felt when you were around, he could even feel it when he was sleeping. When he woke up, the room was dark, too dark. You weren’t there and he desperately searched the room with his eyes to try to find his favorite little ball of light only for his eyes to land on the outline of something or someone on the edge of the bed. He quickly turned on his light, gasping quietly when he saw you. It was a different version of you though, a version of you that looked more fitting to stand by his side, a version that he knew he’d never have to worry about losing. Your horns curled around only once, they were smaller than his, as was your tail that flicked back and forth excitedly when you saw him. The left side of your body, from your neck and all the way down your arm was covered with cow like birth marks that matched his own. You were his match, and you always would, and always will be, just the way it should be. 

“Come to bed, it’s been too cold without you here.”

[xiaomoxu]

Lucien - Mind’s Quest: Arriving With The Crowd

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

A date from CN server which hasn’t been released on EN server yet. Might contains some spoiler.

Please beware of roller-coaster emotions from this. A sweet moment yet has a deep meaning between them, is ready to serve you~

*) I put [...] on my thought about some scene.

Translations under the cut~

Part 1

??: Lucien, MC, we met again.

On the way when Lucien and I get off from work, suddenly a familiar voice came from behind us.

We spontaneously turned around and saw our neighbor, Mr. Zhang, carrying a supermarket bag and beckoning to us with a smile.

Mr. Zhang: Recently, I saw you two commuting to and from get off from work together every day. It's a really good relationship.

MC: Mr. Zhang also helps your wife buy vegetables every day.

Mr. Zhang: My wife’s legs are not good, so I will run more errands. It’s not the same as when you are young.

Mr. Zhang: I remember MC said last time that you were going on a business trip, when would you leave?

MC: I will leave tomorrow.

Mr. Zhang: Oh my, it's no wonder! Then I won't bother you, so I'll leave you two.

Lucien: Okay, I understand, please be careful Mr. Zhang.

Mr. Zhang smiled and looked at us again, then strode away.

I received an outdoor reality show a while ago. I planned to go to the countryside of a neighboring province to shoot for three months. I heard that the signal over there is not very good and it is inconvenient to communicate.

In order to make up for the time when the two places were about to be separated, Lucien and I made an appointment to spare some time every day before departure.

Almost all the spare time was used by us when commuting to and from get off work, visiting the supermarket, and buying breakfast.

Even if it is somewhat "inseparable" in the eyes of others, I still feel that this time is far from enough.

When I was thinking about it, Lucien gently squeezed my hand, recalling my thoughts.

Lucien: How do you plan to spend the last night at home?

MC: Speaking of it, it might be a bit boring...

MC: In fact, my luggage hasn't been packed yet, so I'm always worried about what's left.

Lucien: Let me check it with you later.

Lucien: There is a distance between the shooting location and the urban area, so you still need to prepare well.

MC: Okay.

I looked up at the bright evening sky, and couldn't help but move closer to Lucien, entangled his arm.

MC: But the weather is so good today, let's go slowly.

Lucien: Alright.

As he said that, Lucien slowed down, we dragged a long shadow and walked slowly towards home.

--

Early the next morning, Lucien escorted me to the station.

After taking the luggage out of the trunk, I stood still and did not move.

Standing at the gate of the station, the dismay of parting suddenly surged up.

Lucien turned around with a sense and helped me stroke the messy hair in my ear.

Lucien: This time it's my turn to help you take care of the green plants. Don't worry, I will take care of them.

Lucien: And for you, if you need my help over there, remember to tell me.

MC: Okay.

I opened my mouth, but couldn't say anything more. Lucien sighed lightly and pulled me into his arms.

Lucien: It's ok, the words you want to say, I understand.

Lucien patted my back lightly, as if he wanted me to feel at ease.

I gradually calmed down, feeling the breath in his arms a little greedily, wanting to save a strength for myself.

None of us spoke, just let time pass quietly.

A radio alert sounded vaguely in the station, and the restraint on my waist was loosened. I also let go of my hand and raised a smile to Lucien.

MC: Phew... Recharge completed.

Lucien: It seems that the big producer is ready.

MC: Um! I will work hard, strive to go and return early.

Lucien: Okay, I'll wait for you to come back.

I waved to Lucien, pulled up the luggage and walked into the station.

After passing the security check and walking far away, I couldn't help but look back.

At the entrance of the station people were coming and going. I don't know who they are going to go to or who they have just said goodbye.

Lucien still stood on the spot, looking at me from a distance.

A train came into the station, and the crowd quickly engulfed him.

But knowing that someone is watching, has filled me with confidence.

--

Exclusive Radio

Lucien: The question just now is almost like this.

Lucien: After you go back, you can adjust your opening report based on today's discussion.

Lucien: Do you have any other questions?

Student A&B: There's none.

Lucien: Okay, that's all for today.

Student A: Huh? There is another hot search on the news.

Student A: "The villagers broke the news that the film crew was polluting the environment...This film crew seems to belong to the company "Miracle Finders", right?

Student B: Yes, I saw their propaganda a few days ago, saying that they are going to the neighboring province to shoot a reality show.

Student A: Local villagers said that they dumped sewage into the river and also posted photos.

Student B: This is too unqualified, right? Do you want to destroy people's environment in the name of local customs?

Lucien: ....

Student A: Wait a minute, Professor Lucien is the consultant of "Miracle Finders" .....

Student B: It's, Professor Lucien, we didn't have other meaning...

Lucien: It doesn't matter. It's a matter of fact. If the film crew really makes a mistake, it is normal to be criticized.

Lucien: But I want to know, did the photos on the hot search actually capture the scene where the show crew dumped sewage?

Student A: Not really, only pictures of the river.

Lucien: Then we better not draw conclusions so quickly.

Lucien: There is no objective fact of "the program group dumped sewage" in this photo, only the result of "the river water was polluted."

Lucien: People can stand from different angles and use this result to infer many different stories.

Lucien: There is only one true fact.

Lucien: How do you prove it, are the stories you heard were the facts?

Student A: I.....

Student B: Look, the program group issued a statement to refute the rumors!

Student B: They also did a picture comparison. It turns out that the picture on the hot search is a picture several years ago.

Student A: Huh? Then someone maliciously spread the rumors.

Student A: ... Sorry Professor Lucien, we were a little impulsive just now.

Lucien: There is no need to apologize to me, it is essentially the fault of the rumors.

Lucien: However, since the thesis is about to start the topic, you can use this matter to remind everyone.

Lucien: Whether you are doing research or encountering social events, don't be too impatient. Set your mind down and analyze the logic carefully.

Lucien: I will also look at your logic loopholes during the defense. So, I hope you will prepare it well.

Student A: Good professor, we must prepare carefully!

Lucien: Well, let's go back.

(Lucien left the room and close the door behind)

Lucien: Huh? No phone, no news...

Lucien: Forget it.

--

Part 2 - Main Story

I settled down at the shooting location and confirmed some shooting-related matters. It was too late when I got back to my senses.

--The whole day's hard work hits my body, but the unfamiliar environment makes me sleepless.

I unlocked the phone and saw that the conversation with Lucien was still staying in the report after arriving.

Suddenly I wanted to talk to him, so I raised my arm to find the signal direction and knocked on what I saw today.

MC: "Today, I was dealing with emergencies, the network was unstable, and the scene was very chaotic..."

MC: "But fortunately, I saw a very interesting book on the way, specially introduce words with special meaning."

MC: "For example, this one."

I posted a photo of a page in the book with the Greek word "pathos" on it.

T/N: The Greek word pathos means "suffering," "experience," or "emotion." It was borrowed into English in the 16th century, and for English speakers, the term usually refers to the emotions produced by tragedy or a depiction of tragedy. "Pathos" has quite a few kin in English. A "pathetic" sight moves us to pity.

It means the sense of yearning and longing for those who are absent.

I waited for a while, but Lucien didn't reply, he should have fallen asleep.

I confidently continued to type on the keyboard and talked out all kinds of experiences in one mind.

MC: "The villagers are very kind and hospitable and helped us a lot."

MC: "The air is also very fresh, and a faint fragrance of green grass can be smelled everywhere."

MC: "But there are so many bugs! Thanks to you reminding me to wear long pants yesterday."

I told everything from morning to night, and when I was about to say something, my phone suddenly shook.

A video call invitation appears on the screen.

I sat up, scratching my hair twice before press the answer button.

MC: You haven't slept yet...

Lucien: Well, just after finishing the report, I received your self-thinking message.

Lucien: I thought I couldn't wait for your good night today, but I didn't expect to receive a "big gift before going to bed".

MC: I don't know if you're still awake, is it bothering you?

Lucien: How come, I didn't feel disturbed.

Lucien: It should be said that I am very happy to see you share these experiences, in every detail.

Lucien: It seems that I am also experiencing these with you.

Lucien picked up the phone on the side and swiped, and smiled in a good mood.

Lucien: The book you took is also very interesting. The author has developed such a rich interpretation just around the word "pathos".

Lucien: This is the first time I know what this word means in Greek.

MC: Does this word exist in other languages?

Lucien: Well, I remember that this word is often used in English to convey the appeal of artistic works. It also means "sympathy" and "suffering".

MC: When you say this, you feel that there is a subtle connection between these two interpretations.

MC: Missing or longing for someone you care about can be considered "suffering", right?

Lucien: Maybe it is true.

Lucien: When the person you care about is not around, everything about her becomes more conspicuous, which makes people more aware of the fact that she is not around.

Lucien: Just like today.

Seeing that I was a little confused, Lucien pointed to his mobile phone.

Lucien: I saw some people on the Internet saying that the villagers at the filming location are somewhat dissatisfied with you.

Lucien: Is this the emergency you dealt with?

MC: ....I thought my actions for solving the problem were fast enough to keep you from discovering it.

Lucien: I thought you would talk to me about this sooner, so I have been waiting for your news.

I was stunned for a moment, and then quickly smiled at Lucien.

MC: Don't worry, those on the Internet are all rumors, I’ve already solved it.

MC: In fact, we get along very well, and we promised to let the guests help a family draw portraits tomorrow.

Lucien: Well, then I won't worry about it.

Lucien paused, and suddenly moved closer to the camera, seeming to want to see something clearly.

Lucien: Why you keep supporting your arm like that, is it not comfortable?

MC: No, because the signal at this spot is better...

MC: The accommodation conditions here are actually pretty good, and the rooms are clean and tidy.

MC: Except for the occasional signal, you have to looking for the angle yourself.

Lucien: I can imagine how you would look for a signal while holding your phone.

MC: You're teasing me again!

Lucien: Alright, I won't teasing you. It seems that you can sleep well tonight.

I lay down again holding my phone and patted the hard bed underneath.

MC: Newcomers may still have to get used to the bed for a few days.

Lucien: In this case, I will lie down with you.

Lucien turned off the top light and walked to the bed to lie down. I followed and turned off the ceiling lamp, leaving only the small lamp beside the bed.

The screen went dark, and Lucien's face also looked a little fuzzy.

We lie on each other's sides, looking at the screen, as if we were lying face to face.

Lucien kept looking at me. I was a little embarrassed by him, and my eyes began to drift around.

Lucien: Where are you looking at?

MC: ... I can't sleep, I want to divert my attention.

Lucien: It's better to close your eyes first, and I'll help you.

Seeing Lucien's encouraging gaze, I closed my eyes, and his low voice quickly came from my ears.

Lucien: Next, can you tell me what sound you can hear over there?

I pricked my ears and listened carefully, perhaps because my vision was blocked, my hearing became extremely sensitive.

MC: There is the barking of puppies and the roar of the machine.

MC: The alarm bell of a car rang...It was a bit noisy.

I subconsciously covered my head with a quilt, remembering that Lucien was still watching, and then secretly revealed half of my face.

Lucien: I seem to forget to remind you to bring earplugs.

Lucien: If you bear with it, the owner should wake up soon.

As soon as Lucien's voice fell, the noise outside the window stopped, and the world returned to silence.

Lucien: Is it quiet?

MC: Well, it feels quieter now than before...

We were silent in unison. Maybe the night is getting darker, and there is no other sound in my ears for a long time.

I don't know how long it took before I vaguely caught a tiny movement.

There are small ups and downs in the steady, it is Lucien's breathing.

I brought the phone closer, and subconsciously let my breathing keep up with his rhythm, as if we were in the same space.

My mind slowly calmed down, and my consciousness gradually drifted away in this sudden connection.

MC: Lucien...

Lucien: Hm?

MC: Good-

Did I say "good night"? It was too late to confirm, and my mind was gradually empty.

I do seem to be a little sleepy.

I don't know how long it took, Lucien's breathing gradually became even longer.

The girl on the screen is asleep, but she seems to have not released the phone yet.

Lucien sighed almost inaudibly, then curled the corners of his mouth again.

She was right, "The yearning and longing for those who are not around" does make people suffer.

Lucien gently stroked the sleeping face on the screen with his fingers, and spoke softly.

Lucien: Good night.

--

Part 2 - Memory Silhouette

Half a month has passed since the shooting. On weekend mornings, I was putting on makeup while chatting with Lucien.

MC: Professor Lucien has worked hard, and accompany me to get up early on weekends.

Lucien: It's okay, I just came back from buying breakfast.

MC: Huh? You finally remember to have breakfast on time!

Lucien: I heard that the spring limited soup dumplings from the Huxin Road store will be off the market in a few days.

Lucien: Thinking you might like it, I bought it.

Lucien: However, I forgot that you were not at home and accidentally bought two portions.

Lucien fiddled with the bag on the table and sighed softly.

I touched my flat stomach and sighed.

MC: I knew I should have eaten it again before I left, now I have to wait until next year...

Lucien: Then wait until next spring, we will buy it the first day it goes on sale.

MC: Okay! Then if you want to eat more today, just eat one for me.

Seeing Lucien nodded with a smile, I just patted the sunscreen on my face and closed my makeup bag.

Lucien: How do you feel that your dressing time has become shorter today?

Lucien: It usually takes at least half an hour before you come knock on my door.

I hummed twice, leaned close to the phone and tapped on the screen.

MC: Professor Lucien may not be aware of it. Make-up takes time and it takes time to remove makeup.

MC: At days, moving bricks are precious as moving gold, and I’m sleepy at night, so I don’t want to bother to remove my makeup.

MC: And now, it’s more important to be able to concentrate on talking with you for a while.

Lucien looked at me, smiling at the corners of his eyes and eyebrows.

Lucien: It seems that I was too accustomed to this intention before, and I will cooperate more with your time in the future.

Lucien: Speaking of this, I found a lipstick at home yesterday, which should have been dropped by you.

Lucien got up and disappeared from the screen for a while, and when he returned, he had the lipstick in his hand.

He opened the lid and showed it to me. I recognized that this was the one I carried with me before. The paste had already bottomed out.

MC: Actually this one is about to run out, just throw it away for me.

Lucien: Do you like this color very much?

MC: Yes, it's very versatile.

Lucien thoughtfully twirled out the remaining lipstick. I looked at him with a curious expression and couldn't help but smile.

MC: Lucien, in your eyes, are the various lipstick look similar?

Lucien: Just looking at it, it's a bit difficult to tell.

Lucien: But after you apply it, I can see the difference.

[Not me crying over this conversation ㅠㅠ]

MC: Unexpectedly, Professor Lucien is also have a talent for such things...

Lucien: This is not my talent.

Lucien: You make these colors look clearer and more beautiful.

[UGLY SOBBING]

It sounds like a joke, but his tone is very sincere.

I was a little embarrassed to look away, and my heart was filled with sweetness because of his attention.

MC: Do you have any favorite color?

Lucien: I have. What I see now is the one I like the most.

My cheeks were slightly hot, and I was about to say something when the phone alarm rang suddenly, interrupting my thoughts.

Lucien: Is it time for assembly?

MC: Mmhm, how can time pass so fast...

MC: Then I'll go out first.

Lucien: Be careful on the road and take a break.

Lucien waved his hand as I did, and the sunlight shining in the room reflected his smile more clearly.

After finishing the call, I also subconsciously glanced out the window.

Although we can't spend this weekend together, but fortunately, we still enjoy the same sunshine.

--

Part 3 - Main Story

It has been a month since the shooting started, and the daytime sunshine gradually warmed up.

Three poles on this day, we set up the machine under the sun, but a guest did not wait.

Perhaps because of the sweltering weather, the guests were not very enthusiastic about their work, and even began to find all kinds of excuses to try "ask for leave".

Physical discomfort, temporary travel, family affairs... all sorts of things like

The reasons for yes and no are endless, which makes us very embarrassed.

I communicated privately a few times, hoping that they would cooperate with the work, but within a few days, the old drama will repeat itself.

Today was another morning without anyone. My colleagues took turns to the residence to persuade. I also made a few calls to the guests’ agents.

Fortunately, after some coordination, the guests finally came forward, and we started the machine in the afternoon.

But in this state, the shooting process becomes a bit difficult. The venue is not cool enough, there are too many retakes caused by the wear, and I don't like interactive sessions...

Little things that did not constitute a problem have become problems. I tried my best to explain from them, so that my colleagues and guests did not quarrel.

In order to ensure the quality, I temporarily decided to stop work ahead of schedule after the key parts were taken.

I took advantage of the break time and prepared to go to the nearby supermarket to buy some supplies to comfort everyone.

Along the way, the villagers who came home passed by, and the sound of conversation and the roar of tricycles filled the evening breeze.

Although they looked tired, everyone was happy on the way home.

I suddenly remembered the days when I left work with Lucien before I left. At that time, I also had the same happiness as them. It was expectation and stability.

I don't know what Lucien is doing now. Did he leave work on time? Did he eat well? I took out my cell phone, but found that there was no signal.

I turned off the screen, walked silently to the entrance of the village, and suddenly a bright light shrouded my head.

The street light was on, and the warm light spread on the road outside the village. In front of the platform not far away, a bus full of passengers was pitting in.

Looking at the scene in front of me, I seemed to be gently pushed by a force and changed the direction of advancement.

I got on that bus.

--

Clerk: Welcome!

MC: ....

Originally, I just wanted to take the bus to relax, but I didn't expect to sit at the terminal --- the railway station accidentally.

The power that clamored in my heart drove me to buy a ticket for the fastest return to Loveland City.

When I walked out of the Loveland City Railway Station, it was raining heavily outside.

I watched the pedestrians passing by in the rain, and the reason for escaping gradually returned to my brain.

I walked into a nearby 24-hour store and sat down. I was looking at the night view outside the window and combing my thoughts. My phone suddenly vibrated, and Lucien's messages popped out.

Lucien: "Are you done?"

MC: "Well, it's finished."

I thought about it and added another sentence.

MC: "it's raining outside."

Lucien: "It's a coincidence, it's raining in Loveland City."

Listening to the patter of rain, I calmed down a bit and dialed the video call.

Lucien quickly picked it up. With the light on, I saw the familiar room behind him at a glance, which seemed to be my living room.

MC: Lucien, are you at my house?

Lucien: Mmhm, the rain is a bit heavy, let me move the green plants on your balcony.

Lucien: Are you still outside?

MC: I'll go out to buy something for everyone, and I'll go back when the rain drops a bit.

Lucien: It's already a bit late, so be careful when you go back.

MC: Don't worry, I am fully equipped.

As I talked, I nodded vigorously, as if to prove something, and as if I just wanted to convince myself.

Under the bright light, Lucien's dark circles were obvious, and his face looked a little pale.

There was a bit of sourness in my heart, I subconsciously moved closer to the screen.

MC: Lucien, what have you been up to lately?

Lucien: There is a study at the end, and the things at hand are a bit trivial.

MC: Is it very hard? You look a little haggard.

Lucien: In order to avoid blemishes as much as possible, it is indeed a bit harder.

Lucien: But it will be over soon, don't worry about me.

Lucien: But you seem to be very busy lately. Have you encountered any difficulties?

MC: There is a little problem...but fortunately, it is not difficult to solve.

I hesitated for a moment, thinking that I secretly ran back to Loveland City like this, I always felt a little embarrassed, so I changed the subject.

I glanced at the room behind him, and suddenly caught a bright color near the window sill.

MC: Lucien, what's on the windowsill...?

Lucien: Recently, a new flower shop opened near the research institute. There are many type of flowers and they are very beautiful.

Lucien: So I bought some privately and put them in your house.

MC: Well, I want to see it too.

Lucien switched the camera to the rear, and I saw a row of flowers on the windowsill, almost in full bloom.

It can be seen that these flowers are taken care of by Lucien very well, but the colors are all gorgeous, and they are inevitably dazzling when they are placed together.

always feel that this is not in line with Lucien's style, so I spoke with some doubts.

MC: Lucien, did you choose this all?

Lucien: I just chose the type of flowers, and the clerk helped to match the others.

Lucien: What's the matter?

MC: Nothing... they are bloomed very well.

MC: Is it time-consuming to raise so much?

Lucien: It does take time to change the water and pruning, but once in a while, it can be regarded as a kind of rest.

Lucien: Sometimes it is a little more comfortable to do things according to your own will, right?

I vaguely think that he meant something. Did he find out what he sneaked back into? It shouldn't be so obvious....

Just as I was thinking about how to respond to him, Lucien turned back to the camera and met my gaze.

Lucien: What about you, is there anything you really want to do now?

MC: Yes, I really want to go home, and immediately sleep for three days and three nights, and then go to eat hot pot and soup dumplings.

MC: I also want to watch movies and dramas instead of the ones I made myself.

Lucien: I thought that at least one of these wishes was related to me.

MC: Of course it is related to you. These are all things I want to do with you.

MC: It’s just that sometimes I don’t dare to think too much. It would be a little sad if I remember that you are not around.

I lowered my eyes, on the opposite side, Lucien did not speak for a while. Only after a while, I heard his voice again.

Lucien: In fact, every time the flowers bloom and wither, I also get annoyed.

Lucien: It would be nice if I could see it with you. If I raise it with you, it might be able to bloom longer.

Lucien: I am used to witnessing these moments with you. When you are not around, it is really uncomfortable.

I looked at his slightly bent eyes, and the bottom of my heart loosened for a moment, like a seed coming out of the soil.

MC: Then next time there are flowers blooming, please send me a picture.

MC: Although the network on my side may be delayed, it can be considered as a witness with you.

The smile on Lucien's lips deepened, and he nodded gently.

Customers opened the door one after another, and I glanced out the window. The rain had stopped.

Worried about revealing my position, I hurriedly moved closer to my phone.

MC: Lucien, the rain stopped on my side, I'm going to catch the last bus first.

MC: Let's continue tomorrow, go to bed early. Good night!

Lucien: ... Alright, pay attention to safety. Good night.

As soon as Lucien's voice fell, I hung up the phone in a hurry, and quickly bought a ticket to the neighboring province.

The sky was still gloomy, but my mood faintly became lighter.

One-sided thoughts may be troubles, but if this trouble gets a response, it turns into some kind of power.

The feeling of wanting to escape disappears. Between parting and reunion, I will run as soon as possible.

Because I know he is waiting for me.

--

Part 4 - Main Story

The filming work has been going on for two months, and the sense of summer has gradually become clearer.

It wasn't until the evening when the heat subsided. Colleagues walked to the restaurant one after another. I took out my mobile phone and walked to a place where there was a signal, and left a message to Lucien.

MC: "I have finished work, is Professor Lucien still busy?"

The words "The other party is typing" appeared at the top of the dialog box, but soon stopped and changed to a video call invitation.

I hurriedly picked it up and Lucien's figure appeared on the screen. He was wearing a white coat and seemed to be still in the laboratory.

Lucien: Sorry, I may have to work overtime today.

Lucien: When checking the data, we found some problems, and we need to "rescue" them.

MC: Is it serious?

Lucien: Fortunately, it's just a bit time-consuming to process.

Lucien rubbed his eyebrows, and my heart tightened suddenly as I looked at his tired face.

MC: I remember that you were finishing up last month, is it almost to the deadline?

Lucien: It's less than a week.

Lucien: This time I brought a newcomer, and there are a lot of things that need to be run-in in the details.

MC: They might feel a little nervous, it's the first time they take on an important job.

MC: But with Professor Lucien, everyone will be able to find the way out smoothly.

Lucien smiled and moved a little closer to the screen.

Lucien: I find that in your eyes, "Professor Lucien" always seems to be very powerful.

MC: Not only "Professor Lucien", in my eyes, Lucien is omnipotent.

MC: As the saying goes, those who can do more work, but you can't force yourself too much.

MC: Maybe you can’t rest assured now, but I have a tip to make you feel better.

Lucien: Oh? I really need it. Please tell me your advice, teacher MC.

MC: When it's really difficult, just give yourself a wish.

MC: In this way, every day we are moving towards that final wish and we have overcome many difficulties without realizing it.

MC: For example, arrange a vacation or travel, as long as it is something you like to do!

Lucien looked at me for a while and suddenly laughed.

Lucien: Thank you, teacher MC. I understand.

Lucien: In fact, this wish has always existed, maybe I'm just too impatient.

MC: What is Professor Lucien's wish?

Lucien blinked at me and skipped the question.

Lucien: If I remember correctly, your filming is also coming to an end.

MC: Well, the part of the reality show has basically been filmed, and I will go to the neighboring city next week to make up some empty shots.

MC: It is estimated that I will be able to go home soon to appreciate the flowers and plants that Professor Lucien has taken care of!

Lucien stretched his brows, and the smile in his eyes became deeper.

Lucien: Well, they are also looking forward to seeing you.

--

The neighboring city’s framing plan is based on the theme of "going home from work", for which the on-site director summoned a group of extras.

However, it rained suddenly before the filming started, so we had to buy an umbrella temporarily and distribute it to everyone.

I looked at the monitor and thinking about the moving line. I saw the light of the traffic light blurred in the rain, like a wet oil painting.

Considering that the theme of this reality show happened to be related to painting, my heart moved and decided to change the shooting plan.

MC: Please use an artistic way to express the theme, we will do slow-motion processing.

Think of this block as the background of the painting. You can use the props to simulate the people in the painting.

The actors seemed to be very interested in this suggestion and tried them.

MC: Let's try it first.

The camera moved slowly on the slide, the light slid between the transparent umbrellas, and the crowd moved closer to the camera and dispersed.

I seemed to catch a glimpse of a somewhat familiar figure in an instant, but in a daze, the figure disappeared again.

...How could Lucien be here? I must have saw it wrong

I blinked vigorously, forcing myself to concentrate.

Some of the people in this "painting" singing, some strode across the puddle, and some pulled out a stack of papers from their bags and threw them into the sky.

The night scene oscillated in these chaotic lines, and seemed to be lit by the warm atmosphere.

A piece of A4 paper flicked in front of the camera. After a brief loss of focus, the familiar figure suddenly appeared in the line of sight.

MC: ....?

I refocused, but found that the scene in front of me was not an illusion.

A narrow gap was opened between the crowds, and I saw Lucien holding the umbrella, walking towards me.

He didn't make any movements, but just followed the crowd forward.

The light-colored coat was stained with some rain, which did not weaken his refined temperament at all.

This is the "Professor Lucien" I am most familiar with. He walks in the crowd calmly, as if he just got off work.

The splendor in front of me instantly lost its sound, and my eyes could only follow him closely.

But why is he here, why did he join the group acting team?

Doubts and surprises are intertwined in my heart at the same time, I really want to run to him immediately. However, at present, the only thing I can do is to look up from behind the camera.

It seemed that I had been waiting for a long time, and the moment I looked at him, I looked into his full of emotions-eyes.

In the next second, he took out a familiar lipstick from his pocket, twisted his fingers apart, and slowly started writing on the inside of the umbrella.

Perhaps it was because the people around him were acting in an exaggerated manner, and his movements did not appear abrupt.

I subconsciously stared at his umbrella and slowly pieced together what he had written.

P-A-T-H-O-S, is the word we talked about.

The continuous rain water glides along the umbrella surface as if soaking it.

There is a faint bitterness in my heart, it is the smell of yearning and longing.

After a brief gaze, Lucien passed the equipment and stopped beside me, as if accidentally covering the umbrella over my head.

I came back to my senses and refocused my attention on the shooting until the group actors had all gone.

MC: Cut!

MC: Xiao Fu, tell the actors, just follow the feeling they just did, and take another shot later.

My colleague walked to the side to greet the actors. Seeing the atmosphere loosen, I breathed a sigh of relief and turned to face the person behind me.

I took a straight step forward, squeezed his sleeve, and poked his cheek again. Lucien leaned down cooperatively, and let me touch him.

MC: Am I really dreaming...

Lucien: Do you need to check again?

The smiling eyes are so near. As if bewitched by the light, I opened my arms to embrace him.

The faint fragrance of green grass enveloped my breath, and I couldn't help but move closer.

MC: Lucien...

Lucien: Mmhm, It's me.

He was holding an umbrella in one hand, and he held me tightly on my shoulder with the other. I didn't care if there were other people beside me, and buried my face in his arms.

A real touch came from under my palm, and the tips of his hair flicked gently in my ears, itchy.

At this moment, without the barrier of the screen, even if I bury my head in his arms, I can clearly outline his appearance.

Lucien gently patted me on the back. I don't know how long it took before I heard his voice.

Lucien: Is it confirmed now?

MC: Hm.… It is indeed our Professor Lucien who has replaced the actors.

MC: But why are you here?

Lucien: Now I'm here, will it affect your work?

MC: No way, you just provided a super awesome picture.

I remembered the busy work he said before, and subconsciously stroked the back of his hand.

MC: Is your research over?

Lucien: It's just ended today.

MC: Why didn't you take a break first...

MC: It’s a few hours’ drive from Loveland City to here.

Lucien: Compared to the past few months, a few hours is nothing.

Lucien: Besides, someone suggested before that I should give myself a wish to face the problems.

Lucien: Now that the problems have been resolved, I will come to realize this wish.

I looked into his eyes and suddenly understood what his "wish" was that he didn't tell me that day.

MC: But we have to go back to the countryside after the filming today. Is such a short time enough?

Lucien: Not enough.

Lucien: But the moment I saw you, I still thought it was worth it.

Lucien: I just don't know.. Does this suit the "going home" theme required by the big producer?

I looked at his questioning expression, and couldn't help but gently squeezed his face again.

MC: Totally suitable.

MC: Lucien, welcome back.

--

Part 4 - Memory Silhouette

After a brief reunion, Lucien will return to Loveland City.

After the filming was over, my colleagues took the equipment back first, Lucien and I got on the bus to the station.

There were not many people on the bus at this time. We sat side by side by the window, and the neon lights circling outside the window passed by.

This short reunion still made me a little dazed. I stared at Lucien's reflection on the car window, as if I couldn't see enough.

The bus stopped for one stop, opening and closing the gap between the doors, Lucien turned around, with a helpless smile on the corners of his lips.

Lucien: Suddenly holding it so tightly, are you afraid that I will run away?

He raised our tangled hands, and I realized that I had just accidentally used some strength.

I let go hastily, and reluctantly hooked his finger again.

MC: It's a bit, after all, "sweet dreams" are always too short.

Lucien: If this is your dream, don't worry, it won't slip away easily.

Lucien gently folded his fingers and clasped my fingers.

Lucien: Speaking of it, I'm very curious, why didn't you choose the Loveland City for your shooting this time?

I paused and thought about the words before I spoke.

MC: Loveland City is a bit far away from us, and suitable shooting sites have not been approved for various reasons.

MC: But there is another reason that I don’t want to shoot in Loveland City.

Lucien: Hm?

I paused and thought about the words before I spoke.

MC: At first, everyone was back at their home. If they were in Loveland City, they might not even want to work.

MC: Especially knowing that I'm in the same city as you, I can't help but feel sorrowful.

Lucien smiled and stroked the back of my hand lightly.

MC: But how do I remember that you seem to have sneaked back once halfway through?

MC: Huh?! How did you know..

I looked up at him in surprise, but Lucien smiled and clenched my hand, pulling me closer.

Lucien: When you called me that day, it was in the store, right?

Lucien: There is an activity label on the shelf behind you, and I saw the words Loveland City.

Lucien: Moreover, the call that day was particularly smooth. Normally, your signal in the village should not be so good.

MC: ... Then why didn't you break through me?

Lucien: You look a little shaken, I have been waiting for you to tell me why.

Lucien: But you didn't, and you comforted me in turn.

Lucien: So I guess, at that time, you didn't really want to escape, you were just pissing off, or wanted to calm down, right?

The stop announcement of the bus intervened in our conversation, and after a short stop, we continued to move forward.

The night scene outside the window quickly receded, and only Lucien's smiling eyes stayed on me.

I secretly sighed in my heart. Maybe it is because he always looks at me like this that he can always guess any of my thoughts.

MC: I should have guessed it a long time ago, nothing can be hidden from you...

MC: But thanks to you chatting with me at that time, I didn't really waver.

MC: Knowing that someone was waiting for me to go home, it instantly became full of energy.

Lucien: Silly, you have worked very hard.

Lucien: Compared with the past, you already become stronger and braver.

Lucien: Instead, I need to get strength from you now.

I looked at his slightly frowning eyebrows, and there was a burst of soreness in my heart, and I leaned over to embrace his waist.

MC: Can this give you a strength?

Lucien: Hmm... But maybe you have to hug a little tighter.

MC: You are shameless.

With that said, I moved my body and moved closer to him.

A muffled chuckle came from the top of his head, and the temperature between his arms soon covered his back. I leaned on his shoulder and suddenly thought of something.

MC: By the way Lucien, who told you about the filming location?

Lucien: If I told you, would you blame that person?

MC: Of course, it's not right to disclose the itinerary privately

MC: But criticism belongs to criticism. Since it was revealed to you, I will still personally thank this person

I reluctantly rubbed his chin and buried my face in his shoulder.

I felt Lucien resting lightly on the top of my head, and a slight vibration followed his voice.

Lucien: I'll tell you when your work is all over.

Lucien: Now there are only two weeks left, and we can enter the countdown to go home.

Lucien: I hope that when you see me again, you can still be as happy as you are today.

MC: I will definitely be happier than today.

The bus kept entering and leaving the station, muting our tail sound in the slightly bumpy carriage.

I counting in my mind, there are three stops, two stops, one stop left. I'm going to say goodbye to him again.

However, the rainy season is about to pass.

I think it will be a clear sky on the day of reunion again.

--

Part 5 - Main Story

The three-month shooting is finally over.

Before the hottest day came, I quickly packed my luggage and returned to Loveland City.

As soon as I got out of the station, I immediately looked around, looking for Lucien's figure.

The moment I dragged the box in the crowd, a familiar call suddenly came from my ear.

??: MC!

I turned my head and saw Lucien standing outside the security line of the station, his eyes gazed deeply on me.

MC: Lucien!

MC: Excuse me, please let me-

I dragged my luggage around the crowd, and ran towards him. Seeing Lucien, I rushing towards him, I simply let go of the luggage and jumped into his arms.

Lucien: .... Be careful.

Lucien warned me like this, but his arm had already hugged me tightly.

Rarely, he didn't lean over to hug me and carried almost all of my weight in his arms. I had to stand on tiptoe so I could barely touch the ground.

There was a slight suffocation in the chest, and none of us willing to let go.

MC: Lucien... I miss you so much.

Lucien: I miss you too.

A low breathing sound came from my ear, Lucien let go of me a little bit, his fingertips slid from the top of my head to my shoulders, followed by his eyes inch by inch.

Lucien: Our big producer seems to be tanned, tired and thin.

MC: Really?

I also raised my hand and stroked Lucien's cheek, rubbing it with affection.

MC: Our Professor Lucien has also lost a lot.

MC: It seems that I have to eat more delicious supplements these days!

Lucien smiled and nodded, and pulled the two luggage behind me.

Lucien: Then let's go home.

MC: Well, this time I really "go home"!

--

After returning to my home after a long absence, looking at the familiar furnishings, I finally let go of the tension that had been in the past few days.

Tired from the long journey, I quickly changed my clothes, walked into the room and opened the curtains, and at a glance I saw the flowers that Lucien kept on the windowsill.

It is a new variety that has never been seen before, and it is still in full bloom.

Lucien walked up to me and was slightly taken aback at the scene on the balcony.

Lucien: ... It seems to be brighter than I imagine.

MC: Imagine?

[DO YOU WANT ME TO CUT 1 KILOGRAM OF ONIONS??!]

Lucien's eyes flickered. I thought maybe he didn't know much about flower arrangements, so I volunteered to pick up an empty vase.

MC: It’s okay, just a little adjustment.

I picked a few flowers of similar color from a few bunches of flowers, trimmed them briefly, and put them in the empty vase again.

MC: Look, is this better?

Lucien: It looks a lot better.

Lucien: Before, I just followed the maintenance instructions to raise it, but it turned out that it needed to be adjusted like this.

MC: The most important thing is to keep the flowers well, I just add a little ornamental.

Lucien: In order to make flowers and people happy, it is best for us to raise them together.

Lucien: If you raise it next time, can you please help me arrange the flowers?

MC: Of course, it's on me!

I raised my head confidently, Lucien rubbed my hair with a smile.

Lucien: In return, I have a small gift for you.

Lucien turned around, picked up a small box from the coffee table and handed it to me, opened the box and there was a lipstick inside. The authentic rose red reminds me of the handwriting printed on the transparent umbrella on that rainy night.

Lucien: Choosing lipstick for the first time, I don't know if you like it.

MC: It looks so beautiful...Why would you think of buying lipstick?

Lucien: I just think this one should suit you well.

Lucien: Want to try it?

MC: Yes!

I picked up the mirror on the table and was about to turn the mouth red, and suddenly met Lucien's gaze from the mirror.

MC: You, why are you looking at me all the time.

Lucien: Can't I watch it?

MC: Not really, just a little embarrassed...

I turned around while I was talking, only to find that he was still looking at me in good time.

MC: .... Lucien!

He was amused by the way I was bulging. He seemed to think a little bit, and came over to take the mirror from my hand.

Lucien: Sorry, it's been a long time since I looked at you like this, I really don't want to miss any of your expressions.

Lucien: But if you are not used to it, I have a compromise.

Lucien: I'll help you put it on, how about it?

This fresh proposal made my eyes bright, and I quickly turned to face him.

MC: Okay, I won’t miss any of Professor Lucien’s special offer!

MC: But did you even know this...

Lucien: I'm not that good, and I may need you to be a "guinea pig."

Lucien: But I will try to be careful.

MC: It doesn't matter, Professor Lucien's "fault tolerance" here is very high.

Lucien: It seems that this is a special treatment for me.

Lucien: Come, sit by my side.

Lucien took me to sit on the sofa, tucked the hair beside my face behind my ears, and then focused on the lipstick.

He opened the lid skillfully, and squeezed it unnaturally

His gaze rested on my lips for a while, and I opened my mouth slightly in cooperation before he made the first stroke.

The moisturizing paste pushed against the lower lip, Lucien lifted my chin unconsciously, extending the color stroke by stroke.

His movements were very light, I was a little itchy, and was blocked by him, so I couldn't move, so I kept blinking and looking around.

Lucien seemed to have not noticed my struggle, so he put on lipstick slowly and didn't forget to look around, as if admiring his own work.

Lucien: This color really suits you, and looks better than I imagine.

MC: Is it "imagination" again?

Lucien: ,After all, it is a gift for you. Since I bought it, I have been imagining the way you put it on.

Lucien: Now, I can finally see it with my own eyes.

Lucien's fingertips gently rubbed along the edge of my lower lip, as if tracing its shape.

I caught a glimpse of the flowers behind him, and my heart trembled slightly.

I don't know how Lucien faced his longing, maybe it was a short daze interspersed with his busy work, maybe it was a "wish" in my heart...

I didn't deliberately think about it, but I felt that it was like a shadow.

I gently held his face and looked at him seriously.

MC: Lucien, now I am back.

MC: Whatever you think of or what you want me to do, you can tell me directly.

MC: After all, during this time, I have also accumulated a lot of wishes about you...

MC: Just as we "compensate" each other!

Lucien looked at me in silence for a while, and finally raised the corners of his mouth.

Lucien: Since I got my wish just now, now it's your turn.

Lucien: What do you want me to "compensate" for you?

I spread out Lucien's hands, seeing that there was still the lipstick that he had just rubbed off on his fingers.

I suddenly realized that it is precisely because there is no barrier at the moment that we can directly leave marks on each other.

And the long separation that I experienced made me want to be more greedy at this moment, leaving more proof of existence around each other.

I followed my heart to stood up and kissed his lips.

Lucien: ...

The newly applied lipstick rubbed against the corners of his lips, like a small blooming flower, dotted on his fair skin.

This color is really beautiful.

MC: If I want this kind of compensation... is that okay?

Lucien met my gaze, raised his hand and rubbed the corner of his lips, and suddenly laughed.

Lucien: Of course you can.

He hugged me up and let me sit on his lap.

Sunlight spreads on us through the gauze curtain, adding warmth to the narrow distance.

Lucien: I thought before that you might need to adjust to your original life for a while... Lucien: Now it seems that I am the one who has been worrying too much.

I took the lipstick from his hand and made a few letters out of thin air.

MC: Remember the "pathos" we talked about before?

Lucien: Yes, I remember.

MC: Later, I read the book carefully and found that there are actually two kinds of misses described by this word.

Not only do I miss the other person when we are separated, but even if the other person is right in front of me, I still long for him.

MC: So, although we are not in the same place in the past few months...

MC: But to me, I never felt separated from you.

Lucien raised his head slightly and looked at me, his eyes seemed to be filled with shards of light.

Lucien: So, even if I am a little greedy now, is it okay?

MC: It’s okay.

Lucien: I not only want to see unique colors, but I also want to leave colors related to me in it.

Lucien: Is it okay?

He took my shoulders and seemed to draw something on my shoulders with his fingertips.

I lowered my head and looked over. The little red he rubbed with his fingertips just now was drawing another "flower" on my shoulder.

MC: Of course, after all... this color suits me very well.

Lucien stared at me deeply, his gaze slowly sliding from my eyes to my lips.

In the drenched sunlight, he held my face and dropped a feather-like kiss on my lips. The soft touch feels like a kind of gentle comfort, which makes me fall into it bit by bit.

I closed my eyes and felt him pull my chin slightly. I opened my mouth slightly, and his breath quickly swept through my perception.

The jaw was clamped by him, and a slight pain melted into the hot breath, which made the kiss look a little eager.

I put my arms around the back of his neck and responded carefully, the pain quickly dissipated, and he asked for it even more with burning sensation.

The faint scent of rouge faints between the lips, I don't know if it comes from the lipstick on his lips or mine.

The shoulders were gradually clasped by him, and the cold air from the air conditioner came in through his fingers and was warmed by his palm.

Every skin that touches him is conveying pleasant sensations. I keep my eyes closed, but my eyes are full of brilliance.

The wet and rainy season that I have just spent alone is all illuminated by the snuggle at this time.

I don't know how long it took, the temperature on my lips slowly faded, I opened my eyes and saw a mess of rose red on Lucien's lips.

MC: Lucien, the lipstick--

Lucien: It's all spent.

We reached out to each other at the same time, trying to wipe off the fainted lipstick. But no matter how you rub it, it will leave a shallow trace.

We looked at each other in embarrassment and couldn't help laughing together.

MC: What to do.. am I ugly now?

Lucien: No, it's cute.

The eyes of the person in front of me are like water, and the sunlight seems to have washed away the complexities in these eyes, showing a bit of pure satisfaction.

Lucien embraced me again and stroked my hot cheek patiently.

Lucien: Any other wishes?

MC: There are a lot more, I feel I can't finish it for several days.

Lucien: It doesn't matter, I will be with you for many days.

Lucien: Those missing seasons, let us make up for it together

--

Notes from me: I can’t helped but giggling and crying over this date. The writer really gave us how Lucien’s feelings towards MC. They will loved each other for sure, with any circumstances ahead them. My wish just, please give them a happy moment like flying kite maybe? Anyway, thanks for visiting my blog and always reading Lucien’s date, and give him love~ xoxo

[mizunetzu]

Mr Mizunetzu’s secret Santa! Kita x reader - cold, cold observations (he loves me so it’s okay)

( @luv-hqs hi HAHA!! I was ur secret Santa >:) Funny story, I accidentally deleted the ask you gave me that had your preferences, but I vaguely remember there being a “Kita” and “angst” LMAO SO I ROLLED WITH THAT TELL ME IF I GOT IT WRONG BUT HEY YALL GET UR FIRST INARIZAKI FIC FROM ME )

⚠️warnings - ANGST? Unintentionally cold Kita baby doesn’t mean it I swear, sad ending

Pronouns - male, he/him

you can find part two here!

——————

“I like you, Kita-kun! Please, please go out with me!”

(Y/n) thrusted himself into a sharp, 90 degree bow, squeezing his eyes shut and balling his hands up into fists, planted firmly against his sides. Kita looked down at him.

“Sure.”

“Wh-“ (Y/n’s) head tossed up, his (h/c)-colored hair whipping back as he did so. “Really?”

Kita nodded. “I like you too, so I don’t see why you’re so surprised. People date people who they like, right?”

A wide smile stretched across (Y/n’s) face, illuminating it just enough to catch the pretty cherry blossom petals fluttering around him. His face shone like the sun, even daring to put the big ball of light to shame. He stood back up, his smile still noticeably big and happy.

“Please take care of me then, Kita-kun.” (Y/n) stepped forward and sheepishly brushed his fingers against Kita’s shoulder.

‘He loves me...’

——

Please take care of me.

It was a simple request. A simple phrase. “Please take care of me,” not in a babied, maternal way, but in the way that (Y/n) hoped him and Kita would be as a lovey-dovey couple you see in romance manga. The kind you see and can’t help but coo at.

“You need to stop flailing your arms around. You’re weakening your spike, (L/n)-kun.”

Kita called out so suddenly, (Y/n) mid-spike, making him sputter and land awkwardly. The ball hit the net with a thud, before landing on the same side of the court it came from. Kita looked at (Y/n) skeptically. It was his normal, straight-laced face, but everyone in the gym could sense the intimidating aura Kita was projecting.

No one wanted to be on the receiving end of that aura, to be cornered by Kita’s judgementful gaze. Yet here (Y/n) was. How unlucky.

“I’m...I’ll do it better next time, Shicchan.”

“Shicchan?”

“W-well...you don’t mind it when I call you that in private, Sh-“

“This isn’t private, (L/n)-kun. We’re in practice.” Kita bore holes into (Y/n’s) skull, who was desperately trying to look anywhere but Kita. Aran scratched the back of his neck.

“Uh-it’s just a nickname dude, plus, you guys are dating, right? So it’s natural that (L/n)-san would call you that.”

“That doesn’t distract from the fact you need to get your spikes over the net, (L/n)-kun. Not on it.” Kita paid Aran no mind, and continued staring down (Y/n) with a heavy, emotionless gaze.

“S-sorry...” (Y/n) shrank back into himself. Everyone who was staring immediately scrambled to look away once Kita looked back. Kita wordlessly walked away.

“Damn, I’m sorry man.” Aran’s eyebrows contorted into a look of pity, while (Y/n) awkwardly chuckled.

“S’fine. He was...probably just having a bad day s’all.” (Y/n) brushed off Kita’s cold judgment faster than Aran expected. He smiled.

“He loves me, so it’s okay.”

——

Today is a good day. (Y/n) hummed as he strolled down the path to practice. In fact, today is a great day. (Y/n) didn’t know why, but it was a great day.

(Y/n) strut into the gym, carrying bag of steamed pork buns he’d bought at the convenience store a few minutes ago. The gyms inhabitants stopped one by one, their focuses shifting from their individual practice to (Y/n) and his bag of food.

Hungry players, especially Atsumu and Osamu, flocked towards (Y/n) with hungry stomachs or a sense of curiousness. Kita caught the ball he was tossing in the air and looked at (Y/n) with blank eyes.

“You’re disrupting practice.” Kita said, not moving an inch from where he was standing. (Y/n’s) smile faltered a bit.

“W-well I just felt like buying the team some food-I feel like we’ve been working hard and we deserve it-“

“You came to practice late to buy food that you could’ve bought after practice?” Kita’s question felt more like a jab at (Y/n’s) chest. Everyone crowding around (Y/n) froze up, a sudden icy-cold shooting down their spines. Kita’s unwanted, scary aura was back.

“I...”

“Why would you do that?” Kita cocked his head to the side. “You’re late to practice-you don’t even have your gym clothes on-and since you have food it’s either we eat it now and can’t practice-because we might get stomachaches-or we eat it after and it gets cold and you waste your money.”

The once bright smile caused by (Y/n’s) ‘good day’ finally cracked. He looked at Kita with embarrassment, trying to play it off with a less cheery, forced smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but his throat closed up and no words came out.

Kita sighed. “Well I don’t want you to waste your money. I guess we’re eating (L/n)-sans steamed buns now.” He turned to the coach. “Is it ok if we take a break from practice? (L/n)-kun brought steamed buns. If we’re lucky we can practice at the end of our practice time once we digest.”

Coach nodded awkwardly. Kita walked up to (Y/n), whose bag of food was being shared and distributed amongst Inarizaki. (Y/n) pressed his lips into a fine line.

“I’m...I’m sorry Shinsuke-kun.” (Y/n’s) happy day was weathered down and left with empty sadness in seconds. He felt so proud and courteous for buying his team a treat purely out of impulse, but now he just felt guilty for disturbing practice.

“It’s alright, I guess.” Kita’s words held no value, as he pecked (Y/n) on the cheek lovelessly. (Y/n) shot him a weak smile, cupping the cheek whom he had kissed gently.

‘He...loves me...so it’s okay.’

‘So it’s okay...’

——

It was such a small gesture. The small act of Kita drawing his hand away when (Y/n) reached out to hold it, him bringing his hand up to lock away in his pocket as they walked through the schools hallways. It was such a small, infinitesimal detail that (Y/n) should’ve brushed off with ease. Y’know, maybe his hand was just cold.

But he couldn’t.

He hesitantly slowed to a stop. “Shin...Kita-kun.”

Kita looked back, a blank look laced with the tiniest amount of confusion weaved inside. “Did something happen?”

“Do you love me?”

Kita dropped his voice down to a whisper. “Of course I do.” It came out his mouth no more than an automated machine would, as he dragged (Y/n) gently to the side of the hallway. “Be careful next time. We’re lucky not much people were around. Someone could’ve heard you.”

‘Heard you?’ (Y/n) furrowed his eyebrows. He wasn’t angry. No, no he wasn’t angry. He just felt like someone hollowed out his insides.

“Is it so bad if people heard me? That I love you and wanna know if you love me too?”

“Yes.”

Kita had no filter. He announced it like saying ‘The sky is blue’, stating it like a fact he expected (Y/n) to know. And he wasn’t even adorning a stern or intentionally harsh face while he said it. Though, it was the way Kita said it so bluntly and emotionlessly that made it hurt the most.

But now that (Y/n) thought about it, when was the last time Kita smiled because of him?

Has he ever even seen him smile?

Has he ever seen, touched, or heard any sort of proof of his love?

Of Kita Shinsuke’s love?

(Y/n) downcast his face. “I just wanted to hold your hand.”

“You know how people feel about gay relationships. Not even my baa-san knows yet. So what if one of our classmates see-“

“-but the whole team knows-!”

“-and I trust the team. They won’t say a word until we’re sure and ready to tell everyone.”

(Y/n) stayed silent after that. Then, he opened his mouth.

“...Then do you trust me?”

It came out like a cracked, hoarse whisper. Kita, for once, look stunned. His eyebrows raised slightly and his eyes widened, even if it were just a little bit.

“Of course I do.”

Another automated response.

(Y/n) nodded, letting Kita lead them back to the middle of the hallway to walk to practice. (Y/n) gave up on trying to hold Kita’s cold, cold hands, and instead thought solemnly to himself.

‘He...he loves...’

He paused. He looked over at Kita, who was looking straight ahead. He looked back down to his walking feet.

‘Does he love me?’

——

Kita looked around the gym. He saw Atsumu and Osamu yelling at each other about something he couldn’t quite make out, Suna fishing out his phone from his pocket, and Ginjima chatting and peppering a volleyball back and forth with Aran.

But no (Y/n).

Kita tapped Suna on the shoulder, who was zooming in and taking pictures of Osamu’s disgusted face. He hummed in acknowledgement, now trying to zoom in on Atsumu on the ground.

“Have you seen (L/n)-kun today?”

“In class, yeah. At practice, no.” Suna murmured. Kita nodded and thanked him for the info. That meant he was at school today, at least.

Excusing himself from practice, Kita stepped out of the gym. I mean, why wouldn’t he be worried about the whereabouts of his boyfriend? Especially with how odd he’s been acting, Kita couldn’t help but worry just a smidge.

After what seemed like hours of pointless searching, he eventually found a mop of (h/c)-hair sitting on a stone bench under the same cherry tree (Y/n) had confessed to him to. Kita had checked the place on impulse, not actually expecting to see someone there, but it was better than nothing. Kita walked up to the boy sitting with his back faced to him, and without even saying anything, (Y/n) gave a small hum.

“Mm.” Was all he said. His back was slouched, and he was still in his school uniform. His school bag laid pathetically strewn on the grass next to him, and if Kita could see his expression, it was probably unreadable.

“Practice is going on.”

“Mhm.”

“You should be at practice.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why aren’t you going to practice?”

“Is everything about practice with you?” (Y/n) lifted his head. His voice was still calm, but it raised in volume ever so slightly. “Practice, practice, practice. What about how I feel?”

Kita opened his mouth to say something, but for the first time, nothing came out. He didn’t know what to do. Was he mad at him? Did he do something wrong?

“I...” (Y/n) choked back his words, letting out a sigh and slumping down on the stone bench once more. He flicked a fallen cherry blossom petal off his shoulder. “Never mind. I don’t feel like going to practice, tell coach th-“

“Is there something wrong?”

Kita question had come out of nowhere. (Y/n) bunched his hands into fists. “...now you notice?” He turned around, red in the face and tears falling freely in unison with the bittersweet cherry blossoms falling mockingly around them. “Tell me, Kita,”

“Do you love me?”

Kita furrowed his eyebrows. “...of course I-“

“”of course I do.” That’s what you always say..! Say something else, dammit! Say you love me!”

(Y/n) abruptly rose from his seat, stepping over the bench and grabbing Kita by the collar. He pulled him closer to his face, shaking him by the shirt with knuckles that almost turned white.

“M-Make me believe that you love me!” (Y/n’s) tears cascaded down his face, flinging in the air as he whipped his head down so suddenly. Small, choked sobs ripped through (Y/n), yet all Kita could do was stare. Stare with his blank, emotionless face. (Y/n) took his silence as his answer. The silence was so loud.

“...I think we should break up.” Kita’s eyes widened.

“Why?”

(Y/n’s) iron clad grip on Kita’s shirt loosened, he stepped back, face feeling raw after crying. “I don’t want to be with someone who can’t tell me they love me. Once you can tell me you love me, and mean it, I’m all ears.”

“(L/n)-kun-“

(Y/n) reached over the bench and pulled his school bag up, dusting off the stupid pink petals that littered around his bag. He slung it over his shoulder numbly, and shot a curt “See you tomorrow.” At Kita.

All Kita could do was stare. With the emotionless face he now wished held more vibrancy.

“...I love you, (Y/n).”

It came out foreign on his lips. It was the first time he’d said those words, hadn’t it? I love you. A cracked whisper, and even then it sounded like it held no value. Kita took one last linger at the now-empty schoolyard, and walked back to practice.

——

When Kita came back to the gym, everyone was sitting in a semi-circle surrounding a whiteboard. Various lineups and positions were drawn hastily on the board, and everyone looked towards the gym door which Kita had come in through. He silently dragged his feet over to the circle of players, and took a seat behind Aran.

“Where were you?” Aran whispered. Kita ignored him, the lump in his throat stinging and bloating his vocal cords up to the point he couldn’t talk.

Every moment, every interaction, every cold, cold observation Kita ever had with (Y/n) flashed before his eyes. The coach’s voice and the squeak of the whiteboard marker melded together as memories of how kind (Y/n) had been played like a dvd in his mind. He’s been so warm. So, so fucking warm. Every piece of warmth (Y/n) shared with him, he took for granted when he told himself he wouldn’t. He wasn’t normally like that. But he’s been so, so cold.

Silent, hot tears blurred Kita’s vision. They fell slowly, and dripped onto the hardwood floor with no meaning whatsoever. He was so cold. He clasped his hands together, shaking, and trying to hush his ragged breathing and sniffles. He felt so cold. Eventually, the coach stopped talking, and one by one players started turning around, asking if Kita was ok.

But he wasn’t. He was so cold.

——————

Kokoro is brokoro in Mr Mizunetzu’s Christmas event

[albino-whumpee]

The Master´s party

A little teaser for you. 

A grin quirked the man´s lips up when he held his chin in a bruising grip. Sann let out a pathetic yelp as the man pulled his face closer to his. 

“You´re an awful liar”

(This one´s long, just heads up for that and just so you know what Albus is taking about at the end, read Of secrets and memories )

This is a series, here´s the Masterlist

Taglist:  @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @giggly-evil-puppy @cowboysrappin @haro-whumps @burtlederp @neuro-whump @comfortforthepain @whumps-the-word @whole-and-apart-and-between @broken-horn @ashintheairlikesnow @rosesareviolentlyread @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump  @whumpasaurus101 @grizzlie70 @twistedcaretaker

TW// Dehumanization, slavery, all the box boy jazz, past abuse, shock collars, defiant whumpee, torture, past abuse, conditioning, anxiety, desrealization, humilliation and dissoci@tion. 

The invitation came in a golden envelope.

Albus silently waited for Zarai to read it. He didn´t expect her face to turn from taciturn to horror in the split of a second.

“Absolutely not” she shouted, taking her phone and furiously typing a number as she walked to the studio. Albus glanced at Momo who meowed to be fed.

He was petting the cat while it ate, when he saw Zarai steaming from rage and straightened up in instinct, bracing for a hit that never came.

Zarai let out a loud groan before putting her phone back on the table with a slam that made Albus jump. Slowly his muscles relaxed as he watched the woman rub her temples. He waited a second, just to be sure.

“I can’t believe it. They’re nuts!” She shot her hands up suddenly “Uniform etiquette? That’s- I don’t even know where to start on how wrong that is!” She continued before exhaling a loud, long sigh.

Albus extended her coffee and gulped when he saw her drink it in one go. “I-Is there something wrong with mistress Heleba’s party, ma’am?” He ventured, catching her attention and glad it didn´t come off as misbehaving. She had simply let her chin rest on her hand as she stared at the envelope.

“They want pets to attend the party with uniforms”

Albus frowned. Wasn´t that normal? 

“Would ma´am prefer me to stay then?” he tried, picking up the cup to clean it. He knew she wasn´t exactly a fan of pets in the first place, but her discomfort was aimed more at their owners, so a party with too many of them around? He could smell her complaints from miles.

Albus was surprised to hear her sigh instead. 

“No, I need you there. I wanted you to meet other potential clients and the agencies we will form partnership bonds with in the future. Especially Dune´s executives, but…” she tapped the envelope with bottled anger. His eyes drifted down to the letter.

“Pets are required to use shock collars as uniform etiquette and security measures to our dear guests”

The man at the party´s reception told Zarai as Albus lifted his chin. The man´s partner putting the leather white collar on Zarai´s hand, as the other checked the electrodes against his neck.

Ah, what a familiar sensation, he thought to himself.

“Is it really necessary? He´s not dangerous…” She asked putting the leather collar on her purse with a deep frown on her face.

“Orders from above ma’am” the security guard limited himself to answer.

Zarai whipped her head back at the boy when she heard the buckles click. His hands twitched but he clasped them tightly over his lap, directing a small smile at his owner.

“It´s fine ma´am. Is just a security measure” he said, but a lump formed on his throat when he saw the remote. Squeezing his wrists tight, he held back the impulse to take the collar off himself.

“This button allows you control the intensity and this one is to make it shoot the electricity. Like this” It was already on the lowest voltage so when the man pressed the button, the collar’s box little LED lights turned red for a second as a short wheeze was forced out of Albus.

You forced me to do this 778900. You keep trying to run off somewhere… Don’t be so impatient. Someone will buy you, eventually. This is for your own good.

Zarai yanked the remote from the man “Enough!” He stared at her in confusion as Albus caught his breath. “There was no need for a demonstration” she shot a glare at the man who offered an apologetic smile before she walked away, dragging the boy with her by the arm. “C’mon, Claude will be waiting inside” she whispered, not expecting to not hear a reply. She stopped a few steps away, noticing Albus trembling figure. She looked around the sea of people and dragged both to a small spot besides the pet’s bathroom.

“Can…can you lift your neck Albus?” The boy complied without fighting. Almost robotically. He blinked surprised, however, when he felt her fingers searching for something on his neck. “There” she said with a triumphant click. “They never said anything about it being on” she said, putting the remote into his own hands “I don´t have a use for this. Keep it hidden for me, would you?” she smiled.

Albus eyes softened as he clenched his hand on the remote. “Thank you ma’am”.

Zarai recomposed after giving him a short squeeze on the shoulder “Let´s go. I don´t want to be here more than necessary. Oh, Claude!” she said, calling the doctor talking with some businesswoman and waving at him as Albus hid the remote on his coat´s pocket.

—-

“Mister Serra! I-I didn´t know” some of the guests told him upon seeing the collar on his neck. He was glad none of the people he considered close was there to see him sport the tag he had tried so very hard to keep hidden.

“I apologize for the confusion” he would say in a bow.

“A pet that can read and work, quite unheard of” a man with a funny mustache said reflexively. Albus recognized him from the archives Zarai had made him memorize about the party´s guests. The vice-president of the adjacent company of the many, Rupert Glass owned. “Pretty interesting tactic from Miss Montenegro to keep your status hidden. Never understood her very well… I might try buy one like you. Normal pets are mostly just for show and I want one that can be useful” he said brushing Albus from head to toe. The boy knew better than to keep his eyes at the same level and shyly let down his gaze.

He wished they could go back home soon.

Even if Zarai treated him well, for most of the attendants he was at the same level of importance as the fine glass on their hands.

A luxury they could afford to break.

They only didn´t because it wasn´t theirs. He, wasn´t theirs. It would be rude if they injured or broke someone else´s property. But they didn´t shy from dragging around by a leash their half-naked, bruised pets. 

Some of their eyes nailed on him with anger, but quickly lifted up at their owners pull on their necks. 

Albus could still feel the glares the other pets shot at him and tilted his head only to catch a glimpse of light brown hair. Sann was wearing a tuxedo with a white rose on his chest. But as soon as he spotted him, Sann disappeared into the sea of people taking Albus´ breath with him. “I…It has been a pleasure to meet you Mister Darcy, but I must attend some…matters. Miss Zarai gives you her greeting and wishes you good health” he said, offering his hand to stretch. The older man only gave it a look before wrinkling his nose.

“I don´t handshake pets” he said. Albus backed his hand slowly.

“Excuse me. Thank you for your time, sir” he bowed as he had learnt back on the facility before he dismissed him with a flick of his hand.

He quickly walked away to scan the crowd, not finding the freckled boy among them. He tried searching by the special drink fountain for pets in the back, next to the bathrooms. It only served water and tasteless crackers. A clear contrast with the tables overflowing with delicious looking pastries and varied choices of drinks for their masters. But he wasn´t there or at tables, laying his head on Robert´s knees either.

The man sat with another man, carding his fingers through a shivering girl´s hair sitting by his knees with a charming smile on. Albus backed away slowly when the girl convulsed forward and the man next to Robert laughed along him.

He thought maybe he had imagined him, when he felt a tug on his neck.

“Hey, this one´s collar´s turned off” a man with a security uniform told his partner. The man tightened his grip around Albus´ wrist

“What? Did it turn it off?” the man harshly made Albus whip his head to a side. A whimper escaped his lungs. “Ugh, delicate pet alert” He slapped him repeatedly “Did you turn off your collar? Thought you could get away with it? Do you want us to tell your owner what you did? Hm?”

“N-No, no sir” Albus heaved as both men laughed like jackals “Please, let me explain-Ah!” The man holding him twisted his arms to his back.

“Stay, boy, stay. Don´t make us hurt you more than necessary” He yanked his head up so his partner had free way to the collar. He heard it click on again “What a good boy” he cooed, wrapping a zip tie around his wrists “We can´t let this slip, though. We got to tell your owner” he said, holding his head down by the neck and forcing him to walk.

The man roughly shoved him to his knees besides the guard station, a few steps away from the entrance. His breathing got shallow as his eyes darted through the crowd trying to find the familiar black long hair and the blue suit of her partner.

He saw the man talking to the microphone to announce him as if he was a lost child on a supermarket. No. It was more similar to the announcement of a lost wallet.

People stared at him with indignation. Pets stared with apologetic looks before they clung to their master´s arms.

He pulled his knees closer to his chest. 

It was like he was back at the facility. Being disciplined in front of other trainees because his handlers were getting bored of him. Getting pushed to the front at the smallest inconvenience to make an example out of him to encourage the others to follow every order their handlers gave them through his own tearing screams.

He felt hands on his shoulders and jerked back so hard he banged his head against the wall.

“It´s me Albus, I´m sorry for scaring you” Zarai said, helping him up as a few spots invaded his sight “Didn´t expect this to happen…I´m sorry” she whispered as he felt the release of the zip tie on his wrists. He rubbed his bruising wrists, which infuriated the woman. “What´s the meaning of this?” She yelled at the guards.

One of them sighed “Ma´am, this is just standard procedure. It shouldn´t leave marks. Maybe albinos bruise too easily”

Albus heard those words and his brain turned off.  

Everything was below a thick curtain of fog, the sounds were slurred and his limbs moved involuntarily. It was like living a dream. Was he actually awake? He didn´t know.

He felt his legs walk, his mouth speak and his hand write as Zarai talked. But he wasn´t sure if it was real. He wasn´t sure if the people around him were really there.

Their voices sounded as if they were underwater. Unclear and foggy. A fog, thick as a veil covered the world around him as he walked. After a while, he suddenly found himself leaning against a wall. Just hearing the noise of conversations on the distance, when he allowed himself to wrap his arms around his knees on the floor of a balcony.

He tried to pull air into his suddenly too tight chest.

He hated it.

He hated not knowing why exactly those words put him off like that. Having the feeling he hated to hear it in a certain specific voice. He hated the laughter inside his head that filled his senses. He buried his head in his arms.

“Fuck off” he hissed, not expecting to feel a hand on his back.

He jumped up when he saw Sann on his tuxedo, letting out a lame squeak that made the other grin.

The boy stood up “Sorry…” Sann signed with a frown, his hands twitching in front of his chest as if wanting to say something else but not knowing how, he only stared at him.

Albus waited, just in case, before he looked away and set his eyes on the city “Don´t be, you just surprised me” He opened his mouth and then closed it with a sigh “I´m sorry… Just...give me a second” he said, biting his lip when Sann held his hand.

He brushed his thumbs against his pale hand as if saying “It´s ok, just breathe”

Albus made his lips a fine line before letting it out.

“I might always say hello with food, but you always try to hold my hand” he said in a half giggle, squeezing on Sann´s hand slightly tighter. A smile came to his face and somehow, couldn´t shake it away. 

“…Can we stay like this for a bit?” he asked, feeling the fog on his head dissipate slowly.

“Yes” Sann signed before curling his fingers around Albus´ hand.

Albus looked above at the night sky feeling the warmth of the boy´s hand leak into his before he took a deep breath. Despite the sound of the party inside where most likely Zarai was searching for him, it melted with the usual sounds of the city and the rumble of the sea in the distance. He let out his breath slowly, calm settling on his chest.

He wondered since when he had started to feel that way around the other boy. The other pet looked at the cars below with a little smile hanging on his lips. His hair was mussed up, pulled back in a way that framed his face and made his features pop. The sleek attire with the rose delicately set on his chest, was a look that couldn´t be ruined even by the shock collar on his neck intermittently lighting up.

“You look stunning” the words rolled out of his mouth and didn´t notice he had said it out loud until Sann turned to him with wide eyes. He pulled his free hand to his chin to sign a thank you with an even wider smile.

“You. Too” Sann signed as the albino felt his cheeks burn and tried to hide it by fixing his glasses. He squinted when he noticed something about his hand.

“What´s this?” he asked, fishing Sann´s hand and inspecting the new pink circles around his knuckles. Cigarette burns, he identified bitterly. “What happened? A punishment?” His tone urgent as he lifted his eyes and found Sann´s smile had ran away from his face.

He shook his head.

“No? Then why…” Albus asked as Sann pulled his hand away to lean on the balcony, watching the traffic below with a lost gaze and hiding the injured hand. Albus joined him a second later “…just because?”  Sann nodded with a shrug that pulled a string on his heart. Albus wondered if that was normal treatment for Sann and felt a sting of guilt.

It was a possibility to end up with an owner like that, the handlers had told them as much enough times, but Sann deserved someone better as owner. He deserved to be able to smile without fear of not looking pretty and eager enough to avoid being hurt.

The thoughts raced through his head before being interrupted when Sann looked up at the fireworks popping in the distance, putting that beautiful smile on his face yet again. He turned to him and finding his worried frown, his gray eyes softened.

He moved his hands up to sign, but then had second thoughts and simply smiled with slightly worried eyebrows.

“I´ll be fine” Albus could almost hear him say as he pointed his head at the fireworks.

As Albus watched the show of colors a dread began to grown in his heart. He was to act as a person, but that didn´t change he was a Pet. Just like Sann and the many others inside. They looked at him with envy and resentment, but Sann...Sann didn´t. Despite the scars on his neck and the rest of his body; the sadness behind his eyes, he still would let him hold his hand and smile at fireworks. The pleasant memories of his time with Zarai began to pop into his mind like the blue and yellow and red lights shining in the night sky.

How could he even change that for him if he couldn´t be free from it himself?

Albus felt Sann tap on his shoulder and he turned, only to find him smiling at him holding the rose of his chest and gently put it on him. He blinked perplexed at the rose, now on his chest, before his eyes found him shrugging playfully.

“Gift. For you” Sann signed as he watched Albus take out his small notebook and pen and extend it for him. It took him a second, but Sann pulled it up so Albus could read it.

“My Master can be very explosive, but he´s a man of his word. He promised me he would give me a bouquet of roses if I could stand the burns…“ Albus eyes widened in horror before Sann smiled again and tapped on the note, urging him to continue “I only got one flower, but do you like it?”

Albus was speechless for a long moment that made Sann tense up and shrink into his shoulders. Albus hand gently guided him to look at him again.

“I love it” he said as Sann´s face lit up “But, the best gift you can give me is your smile” at that, Sann´s cheeks flared up. “S-So, please, don´t do something like that for me ever again. Please...” Sann was stunned by his words and only could looked down as Albus let down his hand and Sann noticed the wild blush expanding on the albino´s cheeks, right before he felt a shock on his neck.

Sann wheezed, bent over the balcony, before he felt yet another shock. As he gasped for air, Sann worried if his Master was hidden in the shadows. The terror of it being true made him step forward, a primal fear screaming at him to rush to his side. 

“Wait!” Albus caught his wrist before he could run off. Sann stared at him for a second, heart drumming loudly in fear, agitated, so much more than the composure the albino put as front to his worry as he looked up at him could calm him. Ruby eyes full of determination nailed on him through long, white eyelashes. “Before you go, can I give you a kiss?”

Sann was thrown off the loop and glared back inside, darting his eyes through the crowd in fear of another shock, but when he felt Albus hand on his, his heart eased.

He asked.

He asked a toy like him who couldn´t say no.

Sann returned the squeeze and took one step closer. His hands were small and thin, a bit rough around the edges but so soft. Sann looked at his lips and waited for them to seal with his, but to his surprise, Albus pulled his hand and pressed his lips into his knuckles. 

It was a light kiss. Soft and soothing, Sann´s heart melted when he didn´t step closer to kiss him somewhere else and instead only saw Albus pull away.

“See you later” 

Sann stared at him for a moment, longing for more, but as Albus let go whispering, “Take care” he knew he couldn´t be greedy. He had to hang on to it until there was a chance they could meet again.

His Master glared at him when he came running to kneel besides him and then tugged on his collar, lifting his chin up as he checked his chest pocket and found it empty.  He gripped on either side of his cheeks and pressed just enough on his throat with a severe look on his eyes that made Sann recoil before he clipped his leash to his collar and took him outside. 

Sann slowed down when they passed through the security line to return the shock collar, but when the man only tugged on it for him to keep walking, he knew the collar would stay on that night. 

When the man opened the trunk for him to crawl and sit on, he saw something grim shine on his eyes. 

“Where did your rose go?” the man asked, stroking Sann´s cheek. “Did he like it?” 

For the split of a second Sann stopped knowing how to breathe, but the next he was leaning into the man´s hand, shaking his head and then tilting it as if he didn´t understand the question. 

A grin quirked the man´s lips 

[parvulous-writings]

A Ship’s Crew

Victor Farley x Mainland!Reader

Genre:  Adventure

Warnings: Mentions of death, and bones.

Summary: The reader has chosen to join Captain Victor Farley, and the crew of the Omen. An introduction to the main members of The Omen. 

Words: 2.6K

Notes: Wow! Recently reached 200 followers! I am beyond amazed! Thank you all so, so much for showing interest in my work! It means so much to me! :D  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

Thank you to the amazing @rey-is-not-a-skywalker​ for allowing me to use their wonderful characters, Stubbs and Destiny! Truly, it would not be a story without that pair.  This is for you, bor. 

Not my gif 

“Well, now you know just a little bit more about the world around you, and what we as a crew stand for.” Victor spoke again. “You of course have a day or so to think on it, but… Would you care to join us?” He extends a hand to you.

Do you take it?

You consider the Captain’s offer for a moment, running your current and available options through your mind, before extending your hand to meet his, shaking it with a firm grip. He gave you a charming and hearty grin, starting to laugh happily. “Oh, splendid, splendid!” He exclaimed, moving his other hand so that they both clasped yours. “We’ll make you feel right at home here, I assure you... We’ll get you your own equipment when we get to Galleon’s Grave- for now, though, let’s get you introduced properly to the crew, shall we?” He grinned, walking around the table, and putting an arm over your shoulder. “Ah, wait, hold on.” He chuckled, slipping away from you again and grabbing his heavy coat from where he had left it over the back of the chair. He slipped his arms through the green and grey sleeves, doing up the middle two buttons. Victor looked to you, gesturing with his head towards the cabin door. “Well, let’s get moving then, whilst there’s still some daylight to be utilised.” He held the heavy door for you, and you step out on to the deck again.  The crew were still rushing this way and that- though they seemed to have calmed down considerably since you last saw them. They were moving much slower now, more of a meander than anything. Victor payed them no or little mind, beckoning for you to follow him up some steps, towards the helm. You take the steps carefully as the keel of the ship rode and broke through a particularly rough wave. Farley cleared his throat to capture your attention, and you turn to look towards him, rather than the expansive open waves that covered the horizon. “This man here,” He placed his gloved hands on the shoulders of the man stood at the helm- his bright red and yellow coat a stark contrast to the dull and dark colours of the ship’s deck. “Is Stubbs. He’s my first mate; and the finest merchant I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting on these seas.” The man he was essentially showering with compliments gave a quiet chuckle.  “Thank you, Captain.” Stubbs replied, a wide smile on his face.  “Of course, my good man. You know I only speak the truth.” Farley gave him a fond smile as he spoke. “We’ve known each other since the day I arrived on these seas,many years ago,  and hopefully we’ll know each other for many more to come.” Stubbs nodded happily in agreement with this. It was quite clear from the way they were acting around each other that they were close. They were so relaxed, and so obviously happy, it brought a smile to your own face. 

“So, sir,” You start, and Victor turned his gaze onto you. “How long have you been here?” You asked him, and his brows furrowed slightly as he started to think. He ran one hand over his mustache and down his beard. “I’m not quite sure... I had just turned nineteen when I decided to stay here on the Sea of Thieves...” He looked to Stubbs, “How many years have we known each other, Stubbs?” He asked, quietly, as if he didn’t want you to hear him. Stubbs shook his head with a gentle laugh, “Too many, and not enough, sir.” Was the first mate’s happy reply. Victor playfully rolled his eyes at this answer, laughing softly at his friend.  “Good enough, thank you,” He started to move away from the helm, beckoning for you to follow behind him.  “Before you go, sir- we’ve about an hour till we arrive at Galleon’s Grave.” Stubbs pointed to the horizon as he spoke- and you could see a rather pointed island off in the distance, and you presumed it to be the outpost that Victor had spoken about prior.  “Ah, brilliant. Keep her steady for me for the time being. I’ll bring her in to port shortly.” He assured Stubbs, which seemed to relief the merchant a little bit. Truth be told, it was risky business letting anyone besides Captain Farley sail The Omen into port, either at an outpost or an island, for the ship did not seem to respond as well to anyone else. 

You get guided down the steps back onto the main deck. Victor leads you towards the central mast, on which leant a young woman- topless bar a few deep blue bandages around her chest, shorts with a belt that seemed to only serve the purpose of holding a cutlass every now and then. Her chest was smothered in tattoos, similar to how Victor’s arms had been. These were very different in hue though; where Victor’s had been a rather faded black ink, this woman’s was a stark and rather vibrant red. They looked almost... Sore.  “This is Destiny.” Victor’s voice roused you from your thoughts, as your eyes locked with the cerulean haired woman, who gave you a little bit of a smirk. “Our resident Reaper representative.”  “Try saying that three times fast, eh, sir?” Destiny chuckled, as she pushed herself away from the mast. Victor rolled his eyes at her joke, folding his arms over his chest and using one hand to prompt her to introduce herself through her own words. Destiny turned her gaze back to you, “As Captain Farley said- I’m the Reaper’s Bones representative here on The Omen. I do what I have to to get a job done, you follow?” She paused, and you gave her a little bit of a vague look. “Okay, okay; I do risky things some people think are stupid.” She simplified her explanation quickly.  “They are stupid.” Victor mumbled as he looked over to the right, and Destiny sighed in exasperation.  “No, they’re not. Name one thing I’ve done recently that was stupid, Captain.” She challenged.  “Would you like the alphabetical list, or the chronological one? I’m fairly certain that Stubbs has both in his possession.” Farley replied, deadpan. Destiny didn’t look impressed, to say the least.  “Off the top of your head, sir.” She clarified.  “Alright.” Victor adjusted his stance slightly, prepping himself for his example. “Last Monday- we were doing our usual route around Crescent Isle and Sailor’s Bounty, and you launched yourself off of the ship, and straight into a gunpowder skelly, merely because you claimed to see what we were searching for.” You didn’t understand much of what Victor was saying, but from the mention of gunpowder you gathered it was none too pleasant.  “I did see it! I saw the loot, I swear!” She exclaimed. “The skeleton just... Got in the way!  It wasn’t there when I fired myself out of the canon!” Victor ran his hand over his face as Destiny kept on talking.  “You may be one of my most trusted friends, my girl, but.. Sometimes I do wish you’d think things like that through, rather than being so... Recklessly impulsive.” He turned on the heel of his boot to walk away, but it seemed that Destiny had one last thing to add.  “I got us the gold, though, didn’t I?” You didn’t need to look at Destiny to know she had a rather smug smirk on her face- you could hear it in her tone. Victor looked over his shoulder, and gave a simple nod.  “Yes, Destiny, you got us the gold.” He replied, simply, before facing ahead again and heading up towards the held once more. Destiny gave you a two fingered salute as she took up her normal space leaning against the central mast- where you had found here earlier.  “Catch you later, rookie.” She grinned at you, before turning her attention back to the crew who were now rushing around about her. 

You jog to catch up with Victor, nearly slipping on the sea-soaked wood beneath your feet. The Captain grabbed your forearm, laughing softly. “Careful there.” He pulled you back up so you could steady yourself again. “Don’t worry, you’ll be getting used to things like that...” He told you as he started up the steps towards Stubbs and the helm. “You know what? I’ll buy you a good pair of boots- you’ll be needing them I think.” He glanced down at your shoes as he spoke. You smile appreciatively at his offer, and nod heartily in agreement. “You never know,” The Captain continued, “You night be able to get a coat like mine.” He mused.  Stubbs was within earshot of the pair of you now, and merely laughed at Victor’s comment. “Who on all these seas would want a coat as heavy or as dull as yours, Sir?” The merchant joked with a wide grin, to which Victor replied with a playful slap. At this, instead of retaliating, Stubbs relinquished the wheel- and it was here you managed to catch a glimpse of what the wheel was fashioned out of. Instead of wood, as one may have expected, the spokes were made out of... Bones. Human bones. You give a quiet, almost horrified gasp as you take an instinctive step back, and Stubbs quickly moves to catch you should you fall. “I know how bad it may seem to you,” The Aussie blurted, “But truthfully it’s not as bad as it may seem- they’re skeleton bones!” He exclaimed, before realising what might be wrong with that explanation. “That is to say, they were essentially dead when we got to them...” He explained, and you calmed down ever so slightly.  “You remember what I said about the Order of Souls?” Victor asked you, calling over his shoulder as he navigated the sea vessel around a rock protruding from the ocean waves, “Well, this is one of the rewards they may try to give you when you bash enough skeletons back into the sand. The capstan, and canons are the same- see?” He pointed briefly forward, down to the deck. At a glance, you didn’t see anything as unusual as the wheel had been. Then you saw them- first the skull, seated in the middle of the capstan, surrounded by femurs; and then the canons, adorned with the ribcages of long dead skeletons. Truly, if you were an enemy of the Order of Souls, The Omen would be one hell of an adversary to get through. 

“Raise middle and back sails!” Victor bellowed, making sure his voice reached all the crew on deck. The crew immediately set about following the orders they had been given, shouting to one another to communicate which way to pull the ropes, all working together as one to do as they had been told. Victor was quickly turning the wheel, and now you could in part understand why his arms had been so toned when he rolled up his sleeves back in the captain’s cabin. “Raise the front sail!” His voice boomed again, as the ship drew closer to the wooden dock.  “Should we anchor, sir?” Stubbs asked, and Victor shook his head in reply.  “When do we ever anchor, Stubbs?” He retorted with a faint chuckle. “It makes us sitting ducks- we’ve been through this before.”  “I know, Captain,” Stubbs sighed, sounding a little exasperated. He shook his head as Victor patted his shoulder with a laugh.  “Now, now, don’t go sulking off. I know that look.” Victor grinned at the man he was speaking with. “I was hoping you could help Ver and Jade deliver some of our cargo to the merchants whilst I take our new crew member down to the tavern and the other facilities available.” Stubbs looked over his shoulder with a smile.  “Alright... I can never refuse something like that from my Captain.” The merchant mused, before heading down the stairs onto the main deck, talking with two other crew members dressed in similar clothes to him- they must have been Jade and Ver.  “Right, now this way,” Victor caught your attention, leading you to the side of the ship on deck, where a gang plank had been lowered onto the dock. The sound of Victor’s boots on the surface of the wood sounded almost like a horse, and you followed swiftly after, glancing up and down the dock. 

You had disembarked near a small market stall-like structure built into the dock- covered in crates, cages and other goods to be transported across the seas. Stubbs, Ver and Jade moved towards the small area, arms full of crates of silks and tea. They were very clearly the merchants, and welcomed the three pirates graciously.  You walk further, and the wooden planks of the dock transition into soft sand. You walk up a little slope, catching up with Victor and walking beside him as he reaches the door of the local tavern. There was a woman leaning against a support beam, and eating a mango.  “Ah, Captain Farely. It’s good to see you again, how long has it been?” She asked him with a smile.  “A long time, Larina.” Victor replied with a chuckle, “But I can’t stop now- new crewmate to become acquainted with,” He nodded to you as he held the heavy tavern door open, gesturing for you to enter the dimly lit establishment first. “I’ll be seeing you.” He nodded to Larina, ducking inside  as she waved her goodbye with a low chuckle. 

The tavern was rather small- it would just barely be able to fit the crew of the Omen in there, and not all of them would be able to sit down. “You go and find a seat, I’ll get us some drinks.” He told you, and you nodded in reply. He approached the bar, smiling in greeting at the barmaid. You see them exchange a few words as you take a seat at a round, rough table. The wood threatened to stab a splinter into you hand or finger, so you try to keep your skin away from the surface. Victor soon returned to you, placing a large, metallic tankard in front of you; to which you give him a quizzical look. “Is this..?”  “All yours, yes.” Victor chuckled. “It’s alright, I was just as concerned when my captain put my first tankard in front of me.” He told you, taking a slow sip of the frothy grog in his own tankard. “Take it slowly- it’s strong stuff. You’ll get used to it eventually, but for now just take it one mouthful at a time,” He suggested with a warm and friendly smile. He then raised his tankard ever so slightly, extending it to you. “Well- to the newest member of the family on The Omen!” He proclaimed. “May your seas be blue and calm, you gold and glory bountiful in equal measure!” He chuckled, as you gently knocked your tankard against his with a small, almost invisible sheepish smile. You take a cautious sip of the alcohol, and almost choke on the liquid.  “Oh my god,” You sputtered. “That’s revolting!” You slam the tankard down onto the table, causing it to shake, and Victor chuckles lightly.  “Yes...” He agreed quietly, looking down into the barrel of his drink. “It is less than savoury... But honestly, after a while, you don’t really notice it.” He leant a little bit closer to you so he could whisper. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to finish it all.” He assured you, before leaning back and getting comfortable again. “Anyway. After this, we’ll get you some proper gear- you can pick out whatever you like, I’ll splash out on you this once. But you lose or damage any of it- you’re on your own for that.” He grinned playfully.  “Alright, thank you, Victor.”  “My pleasure,” Farley nodded, raising his tankard again before taking another sip. 

[nekoabiwrites]

How Not to Help Your Nerd Boyfriend Find a Swimsuit

Long title... but it’s all I got lmao.

It’s @maeofclubsandart​‘s birthday and she deserves good stuff - I hope this falls under that :P This is like a few hours early for her, but I couldn’t wait to post!!

AU: Human Pairing: Intruloceit Words: 3002 Warnings: Nothing. Let me know if there is anything you want me to add!

Summary: Logan realises he doesn’t have a swimsuit. His boyfriends want to help. They are no help.

--

Logan was quiet as he sat on the couch, face pensive. One of his boyfriends had suggested a ‘date day beach trip’, and the other had tentatively agreed as long as a list of stipulations were agreed to. Now the two of them were playfully bantering back and forth, a pad of paper being scrawled on to get each stipulation in writing. Logan was not listening to anything they were saying, however. He was too busy thinking about how to bring up the topic that he didn’t own attire appropriate for the beach.

It wasn’t for lack of trying that Logan didn’t own a swimsuit. It was more to do with the fact that he had not required one since he was a child and thus had had no reason to go searching for one in his adulthood. He’d barely even given the summer displays in stores a second thought when he had passed by them in recent years. A hand gently resting on his thigh had Logan suddenly jolting back to reality.

“Logan? Are you alright?”

“You haven’t added anything to our list yet. I thought you’d already have a contract to hand me, checked by a lawyer and everything!”

Logan cleared his throat awkwardly, “Apologies. I was simply… lost in thought for a moment.”

“What about? What about?” The more excitable of the two leaped over the coffee table and cuddled up against Logan’s side, looking up at him with a grin.

“Remus. We’ve mentioned time and time again. No pressuring anyone into talking about things they don’t want to talk about.”

Remus pouted, “But Jannyyyyy, I wasn’t tryyyyingggggg toooooo.”

“Stop. Both of those things. Immediately.” Janus sighed, grimacing exaggeratedly at the nickname.

Logan felt himself relax a little as the tension of the situation dissipated. He cut through the continuing argument, “It is alright. I just realised that I do not own a bathing suit.”

A beat of silence passed before a wide grin spread across Remus’ face and his eyes twinkled with mischief. He grabbed a tight hold of Logan’s wrist and began to drag the bespectacled man across the room towards the front door. “Let’s go remedy this immediately!” As his hand touched the door handle, a shout stopped him in his tracks.

“REMUS!” Janus stood back at the couch, hands on his hips and a disappointed downturn on his lips, “Are you really going now?”

“Of course! What better time than the present, right, Lo-Lo?” Remus wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist, fluttering his eyelashes in a way that was supposed to be innocent before placing an uncomfortably wet kiss to Logan’s cheek.

“Oh, yes, right. And you’ll be getting so far without these…” He held the car keys up between two fingers. Remus gasped and practically threw himself over to his partner in order to snatch them out of the other’s hand, but Janus moved the keys out of Remus’ reach only moments before he could get them in his grasp. “You might also want to consider changing out of your…” Janus gave Remus a once over, “current outfit… and put on some shoes… and take your wallet… y’know, just a suggestion.” He dramatically checked his nailbeds, pointedly ignoring Remus’ continued attempts to grab the car keys.

Remus soon gave up and huffed as he walked away to change his outfit into something deemed appropriate for the outside world. Once the bedroom door had shut behind him, Janus sighed and turned to Logan with a gentle smile, as the taller man wandered back towards the couch. The car keys were handed over, their touch lingering for longer than necessary, “I managed to buy you some time to prepare. You can thank me later. Do try not to die out there, the increase in rent would be far too taxing on me.”

An amused snort fell from Logan’s lips as he slipped his shoes on and retrieved both his and Remus’ wallets from the table in the entryway. He was just slipping his into his back pocket when the bedroom door swung open once again.

“Is this better?” Remus asked, twirling and posing excessively for his partners. Neither could deny that the outfit was indeed far better, though it still had that… Remus flair that would likely cause passing parents to gape and tug their children away faster.

“It will have to do if we want to get this done today.” Logan said in an already defeated tone. He turned and headed to the door, making sure to obviously jostle the keys in his hand to get Remus to follow him, instead of annoying Janus for them.

Only once they got into the store did Logan realise what he’d gotten himself into.

Remus had him stand before the display of bathing suits. The eccentric man circled Logan, poking and prodding him in ways that seemed completely unnecessary. It was only once Remus poked Logan’s ass with a high-pitched “Boop!” did Logan snap and finally move from the spot he’d been placed in.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“Oh, I was just trying to figure out your size is all! And what would look good on you.” Remus practically purred as he approached Logan once more, his arms coming to rest around the other’s waist.

“What did all of the… touching have to do with that? Enlighten me.” Logan deadpanned, practically able to hear the response Remus was about to give him.

With yet another fluttering of his eyelashes, Remus grinned cheekily and responded, “I just wanted to touch my boyfriend. Is that a crime?”

“It depends, obviously.”

“Ooh? I do love a bit of crime…”

“Remus.” Logan’s voice held a note of warning, letting his boyfriend know that he was getting close to pushing his luck.

“Fine, fine. Back to swimsuits. We can figure out crime later!” Remus let go and turned back to the wall beside them. As his partner was taking a moment to breathe and compose himself, Remus was busy grabbing a variety of pieces off of the wall. He grabbed the last one and then grabbed a hold of Logan’s arm once more to pull him over to the changing rooms. “Here! Try these!” He dumped the pile onto the bench in the small space behind the curtain.

“Alright… but you are staying out there.” Logan said hesitantly, lightly pressing against Remus’ shoulder to get him out of the changing room. He moved without much of a fight, though the disappointment was clear on his face.

Logan couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as he pulled the curtain across in front of his boyfriend’s face. Though he could be impulsive, reckless, overly sexual and a number of other descriptors, Logan could not say that any of it changed his feelings about Remus. Somehow, all the strange things he did brought Logan deeper into his affection. The playful nature of it all just helped Logan relax, even when things did start to border on illegal activity.

Speaking of illegal, it was the only work Logan could conjure up in his mind to describe the swimsuits Remus had left him with. Every single one was too revealing, either due to a complete lack of fabric or the fabric used happened to be extremely translucent. He took his time looking through them all before even considering disrobing to try some on.

“Um, Remus?” Logan asked, staring in disbelief at the choices laid out before him.

“Yeah, Logan?” Remus parroted back in the same tone, teasing him.

“Are you quite sure about these, uh, choices of yours?”

“Of course I am! They’d all look just so good on you. Trust me, I have an eye for this stuff.” Remus had approached the curtain so he could lower his voice, in an attempt to both be seductive and save Logan from the embarrassment of public flirting.

“…Okay…” Logan muttered under his breath as he slowly began to strip down in order to try at least one of the swimsuits – specifically the one that offered the most coverage. After far too long, Logan stood in front of the mirror looking at himself. He had to give Remus one thing; it did suit him quite well, though he couldn’t say it would work for outside of this changing room… or other, more private, areas. “Uh, Remus…? Would you… would you mind, joining me? I don’t think I can come out…”

Remus clapped loudly before his footsteps approached the curtain, “I thought you’d never ask!” The curtain swung open as the moustachioed man entered the changing room. As the curtain fell from Remus’ hand, his eyes swept Logan’s body and an almost lecherous smile spread across his face. He reached out and gently held his boyfriend’s hips, coaxing him to turn so Remus could see everything. “It’s even better than I thought.”

“Remus. This is not suitable as a swimsuit.” Logan hissed, a dark blush coating his cheeks as he was observed from every conceivable angle.

“I dunno. It seems good to me.”

“Remus.”

Finally, Remus looked up at Logan’s face and his grin faltered. The clear unease and worry behind the thick framed glasses that rested on Logan’s blushing cheeks, the hunch of his back and the twitching of his arms as he fought to not wrap them around himself, the tension in his entire body. It cut Remus to his core. “Okay. None of these.”

The voice that responded was no more than a whisper, “Thank you.”

“Gimme that one and I’ll go put these all back while you get dressed, yeah?” Logan nodded as Remus filled his arms back up with the rest of the swimsuits. Logan dropped the one he’d tried on atop the pile and Remus slipped out of the changing room. Internally, he mourned the fact that he was unsuccessful in getting Logan to agree to one of his ideas. He did look so good, and he was sure that Janus would have agreed with him too. But Logan’s comfort came first and so all of them were put on the return rack.

The couple left the store once Logan had emerged – fully dressed - from behind the curtain. Remus was gentler for the rest of their trip out, not dragging Logan from place to place – instead just guiding him. They stopped off at a small café nearby for a quick snack before heading home.

To say that Janus was unsurprised when they returned empty handed was an understatement. “Are you truly surprised that your suggestions were received so poorly?” Janus asked, shutting the cover of his book and resting it in his lap.

Remus rolled his eyes and cocked his hip, “Duh, of course. Logan looked so good and he would have looked even better in some of the others I picked out!”

“I’m sure he did…” Janus’ eyes flicked to Logan, raking his body for a moment before returning to Remus’ gaze, “Even so, we all know your taste in fashion is… different, to ours.” He gestured between himself and Logan for emphasis.

“Just because you two are adorable little squares when it comes to your outfits, doesn’t mean you can’t step out of that every once and a while!” Remus flopped into the space on the couch nearest Janus’ armchair, reaching to grab a hold of his hands, “I mean, it’s not like you two have any issues when its just us…” He grinned, pulling the hand closer to his lips.

Janus slipped his hand from Remus’ grip before he could even place the ghost of a kiss onto his fingertips – though it was highly unlikely to just be something that insufferably sweet – and turned his attention to Logan, “We’ll go and sort out this little issue ourselves tomorrow. Just us two.” He directed his statement at Remus, who slumped over the arm of the couch, defeated.

---

He knew he’d be bored without his boyfriends around, but Remus couldn’t have imagined just how restless he’d be knowing that they were out looking at swimsuits without him. He did eventually manage to lay on the couch and distract himself with some cheesy horror movies, but the moment the front door lock clicked, Remus was up on his feet. “How did it-” Remus cut himself off as Logan’s voice preceded him even entering the home.

“I truly did not think that the two of you would be at such extreme ends of this spectrum!” Logan said, as he stormed through the door. Janus shut it behind him, leaning against it. He said nothing, only gesturing to himself. Logan quickly back-peddled, “I didn’t mean- I’m sorry. I just…”

“No, no. It’s alright.” Janus held up a hand to quiet his now nervously stuttering nerd, “I have specific needs when it comes to such things.” He approached Logan and placed a chaste kiss to Logan’s cheek, a display of love that assured Logan he was fine. Logan couldn’t help placing his own kiss to Janus’ lips to replace the gentle smiles they were sharing, a kiss that slowly turned into something… more as it continued for longer than expected.

As he was left out of the affection, Remus couldn’t help himself and made a noise of frustration. The two separated and Janus rolled his eyes playfully then headed over to give their sulking boyfriend his own kiss. Immediately, Remus perked up, “It didn’t go well then?”

“No, it went fabulously. We just didn’t bring anything back because it went so well.” Janus drawled, sarcasm dripping through his voice.

“No need to be so salty about it, Janny.”

“What did I say about that?”

The two began bickering, but Logan tuned it out. He was deep in thought about his current experiences. While Remus was more than comfortable showing his entire body to the world, Janus was a completely different story. Due to his heavy scarring, it made sense that Janus would be more concerned about covering up as he needed to take extra precautions for his safety. Though, it couldn’t be said that he didn’t like to show off.

Janus had revealed that he preferred wetsuit-like outfits. What Logan hadn’t realised was how tightly some would cling to the body. He was extremely uncomfortable with the amount that was showing when he tried one on, even after his boyfriend complimented him so thoroughly.

Eventually, Logan stood, “I’m going to spend some time in the study.” His eyes were not focusing on either of his partners, as he was still deep in thought. Without waiting for a response, Logan wandered off.

Remus and Janus sat in silence, watching as the study door shut behind their boyfriend. They shared a worried glance before delving into a conversation on how to fix what they had both messed up on.

Days passed and the topic slipped from Logan’s mind. His work started getting extremely busy which provided an excellent distraction. It wasn’t until he came home one day weeks later and was greeted with the sight of his boyfriends wearing their own swimsuits that he thought about it again. He dropped his bag in its usual spot by the door with a heavy sigh, “If you are about to try and convince me to go out and look at swimsuits again, please do not.”

“We’re not.”

Logan paused in the middle of pulling off his jacket, “You’re… not?”

“Nope!”

“So… what are you… doing?”

“We don’t need to take you to look at swimsuits-” Janus started.

“-Because we have one for you right here!” Remus chimed in, holding a box out in front of him.

Logan cautiously eyed the gift as he walked towards them. As he took the box into his hands, Logan found that he was being guided to sit on the couch between his boyfriends – both of whom were eagerly watching him. The lid was lifted slowly, as if Logan assumed something venomous was going to jump out and bite him. Logan’s expression shifted to one of surprise when he saw the swimsuit inside.

The dark blue swim trunks were long and loose, something that Logan was almost ashamed to say he internally sighed in relief at. They also had a few silver coloured stripes wrapping around in an asymmetric design and – upon closer inspection – had the Ravenclaw house crest in the upper left-hand corner at the front.

“Sooooooo?” Remus asked, the silence clearly getting to him as he impatiently bounced up and down.

“I… I don’t know what to say… I uh… they’re perfect.” Logan said, a genuine smile pulling at his lips. After coaxing Logan into putting his new swimsuit on, the three of them relaxed in a makeshift ‘beach’ that had been set up in the back garden. It was made up of a small, blow-up kiddie pool and a tarp covered in sand – which had clearly been hastily placed on the ground. Remus lamented over the fact that Janus had stopped him from going and getting actual sea water and seaweed to bring the “smell of the beach to us”, instead having to settle for scented candles. Despite the odd set up and the unnecessary nature of it all, Logan couldn’t stop the deep fondness he was feeling for their beach. Though there was one question he needed answering.

“Why did you do all of this?” Logan asked suddenly. Remus stopped forming his phallic shaped sand sculpture to turn his attention to Logan, while Janus simply lifted his sunglasses. “I had never said anything about the beach setting being a difficult place to be, so I was just wondering why you set this all up…”

Janus’ wry smile crossed his lips and placed his sunglasses back down onto his nose as Remus responded casually, “It was just so you could get used to how good we look like this. Couldn’t have you getting all worked up over us in public now…” Remus playfully winked and stuck his tongue out, causing Logan to blush heavily at the implication.

---

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[benkouji726]

So I wrote my 5+1 Forlex fic, as I was saying earlier. I really lack impulse control when it comes to rnm, sigh.

Jealous Guerin may have some appearances in this fic too, but it’s eventually Forlex. 

This is the first part of it. I will try to update it daily, before I lose my nerves.

Five times Alex surprised Forrest and one time he didn’t

1.

It was supposed to be some harmless fun, at first.

Forrest was intuitive, to put it mildly. You didn’t grow up in a Long household and become this well-liked and popular family member by being dense, especially when you were gay. Besides, his gut feeling had saved him more times than he could count in battles, it was one of the reasons his buddies trusted him with their lives.

He was very good at reading people and situations around or between them. He didn’t always care what people thought of him, of others or of themselves, but he noticed all the same and would efficiently use that information to his advantage. Call it his people skills, but it was how he managed to live through his rebellious youth period, his military years, and now his adult life in a backwards town like Roswell, while never stopped being his colorful-haired, emo-poetry-writing, 20 pounds of personality in a 5 pound pocket-sized body self.

So he had known there was something between Alex and Alien Guy even when they first met at the Long farm. As they talked, it was like there were only them in the whole world. The air seemed thicker and more tangible, the atmosphere charged. Then at the diner, Forrest noticed the meaningful glance Alien Guy shot his way. When Alex sang that song, Guerin walked in and they seemed to have some soul searching conversations through their eyes only, well, it was really not that hard a guess who the song was for. And frankly, Alex needed to work on his poker face a LOT if he was ever gonna sell that obvious “it was a long time ago” lie.

But at the time, it hadn’t really mattered. Whatever it was between them, it seemed neither of them was going to make a move. And Alex was so hot sometimes he wondered how the hell he remained single in the first place, but he WAS single, and a smart guy like Forrest was never gonna miss out a perfectly good opportunity to make out with a hot guy and have some fun time with him.

It was supposed to be just like that, some fun, some company, some glorious make out sessions. Nothing heavy or potential heartbreak or anything.

Which was probably why he didn’t even realize he was falling for Alex until it was a bit of too late.

They were dating for two months at that point. Forrest had met almost all of Alex’s friends and family members (the ones who counted as friends and family in Alex’s book anyway), minus Michael Guerin. And Forrest had won them over one by one. He once overheard Liz call him “charming, funny, honest and loyal to a fault”, to a reluctant Isobel Evans, who had been giving him stink eyes ever since he and Alex had gone out, but in their last get-together thingy (Forrest honestly didn’t know how to call these, because they were irregular as fuck, both in schedule and in attending member counts), Isobel joined him at the bar when he was getting them the last round, considered him for a second, patted him on his shoulder without looking at him and said in a small but genuine voice: “You are not half bad”. So Forrest would call it a win.

In hindsight, it should have been his first warning sign that he cared so much of what Alex’s friends think of him. But in his defense, Alex was most at ease when he was with his friends, which meant he would always be sweet, adorable, sometimes sassy, sometimes soft, and had the unique sense of humor in a deadpan way, and Forrest was too busy being charmed to notice it.

So when his platoon buddies, Tony and Chris, came into town to visit him and he brought Alex to have a beer together, he was so caught off guard when Alex went to bathroom and Tony said:

“Man, you’re so gone on him, aren’t you.”

It wasn’t even a question.

Forrest spluttered, red faced, and said, eloquently: “uh, what?”

Tony and Chris changed a look, both amused. “You’ve been staring at him all night, Long. You look at him as if he hung the moon. You can’t seem to keep your hands to yourself, not to be PDA or something, but little touches, I think you didn’t even notice. He made a joke earlier, granted, it WAS hilarious, but the way you laughed, like you think he is the most funny guy in the whole world, which, no offense, is really not the case.”

Tony drank some water after his long ass bullshit, and Chris went in for a final blow. “So in conclusion, you’ve had it bad, dude, like, we’ve-never-seen-you-like-this level bad.”

Forrest was dumbstruck at that. He must’ve seemed like a dumbass too, because they decided to take pity on him, and changed the subject.

“Anyway, you know we’ve been relocated to the nearby base, Tobias and Leo are near enough too. The others all cashed in some long-overdue vacation days so we can have a little get together for our platoon in Santa Fe next month. You should come too.”

OK, that was exciting news. He missed his buddies and would be very happy to spend some time with them.

But Tony hesitated a little before continued: “There is a catch though. We thought it would be nice that we all bring our significant others, or even our children. So it would be a more family style setting. It may not be your thing.”

The thing was, it would totally be Forrest’s thing. He just didn’t know how to say it. With his platoon buddies, he always seemed like the free spirited lone wolf, easygoing, open and honest, but never the one to talk about family issues or kids problems with. But he would enjoy being surrounded by family love and loud but innocent kids, so he opened his mouth to just say that when he was interrupted by a light laugh.

“What are you guys talking about, family and kids and platoon buddies all under the same roof? It’s totally his thing.”

Forrest was startled, both by Alex’s sudden reappearance and his seemingly psychic ability to read his mind. When he remained silent a second too long, Alex apologized.

“Sorry, did I overstep? You actually don’t want to go or...?”

“No! I mean, yes, I wanna go. I just, something they said earlier, it was a lot to unpack. But you are right, I would love to go.” Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie.

Alex didn’t seem to buy it, but he was kind enough to drop it at the time.

On their drive home though, Alex picked it up again, as Alex would do, because he was a stubborn son of bitch like that.

“You wanna talk about what happened earlier?”

Forrest sighed. Best to just cut to the chase.

“Why did you say it was totally my thing? We didn’t often talk about family and kids, if any.”

Alex frowned, “No, we didn’t normally talk about that stuff. But it’s obvious you like family energy and friendly gatherings, isn’t it? Am I not supposed to know that?”

“But how? I served with my buddies for a long time, we trust each other with our lives. But almost none of them know it.”

“Forrest”, Alex smiled, “you like almost all of your family members, stay friends with a lot of them, despite some of them are real assholes. You even like hanging out with my friends and family too, not just because we are dating, but because you love being around people who give you warm family-like feelings. You organize every open mic night at the pony, and are genuinely interested in the acts and the people behind them, you like to talk to them about their lives and their relationships. You volunteer at the youth shelter. You are, simply put, a people person. You like people, you see good in them, you want to be around them and be a positive influence for them. You don’t necessarily tolerate stupid bigots, and you would be the first to call out their cowardice, but if they are willing to change and be better, you would want to believe in them too.”

He exhaled, oblivious of Forrest’s stunned expression, and continued.

“For a man who has that big a heart, I’d imagine spending some time with his buddies and their families would totally be his thing, don’t you agree?”

“Yeah, but...”

“And there’s also your poetry.”

Forrest was getting whiplash tonight, he could hardly keep up.

“My poetry?”

“Yeah, you gave me your emo poetry journal the other day and asked for my opinion?”

“I remember that. In fact, I remember it was a week ago and I still haven’t got any feedback yet.” If he was being honest, he would say he had been a little hurt by that too.

Alex’s face turned a shade pink. “I know I was being a little slow. But I just want to do them justice, you know? I’ve been reading each of them multiple times, so I can get the gist right.”

OK, hurt instantly healed. He really should be concerned how Alex’s words could so easily affect his mood.

“Anyway, the poems you wrote, they are all very pro-humanity, at least in my opinion. Like, the themes vary, some about personal journeys, some about lost love, some about struggling life, some about anger and pain. But the words have something like warmth attached to them, like despite all, there’s hope, and there’s good, in people, in humanity, in the whole world.”

He looked down at his hands then, voice quiet.

“And that’s the thing I like most about you.”

Shit.

“Shit”, It was definitely too soon, but Forrest just can’t not say it. “I think I might be falling for you.”

Alex looked at him right then, hesitated then determined: “I don’t think I’m there yet. But I think I could see myself heading down that road someday.”

He added in a more unsure voice: “Is that OK?”

Forrest reached out, squeezed his hand, and reassured him: “It’s OK”.

And it really was.

[treason-and-plot]

MORE REPLIES

@shhhushhh

The struggle is real, right? Her independency can buy her only that, when she can have it all given from another if she swallows what happened (I still think it's a hard bite  - as we say here "A spoken word, a thrown stone"). I still hope she'll resist.

Saoirse’s struggle is, and will continue to be, very hard. 70s furniture and Nicotine stains and all, she loved the fact that she’d paid for that hotel room, and that it was a room of her very own. But she loves Roy, too, and is really wanting to forgive him without sacrificing too much of her integrity. I envisage a lot of soul-searching and intense conversations in their future!

@dreamsongsims

I don't know that I see this as a prank so much as them letting him experience the consequences of his thoughtless actions and words. This might have been intended as a short hiatus, but if Roy continues his self-centered behavior it could easily become long-term separation. What Soirse has to decide is if she can take Roy as he is, because at his age real change is not likely.

Exactly! They want him to learn something from it. As to whether Roy is able to change...well, he will probably make a lot of promises ;=) 

@pixelcurious

I mean, I wouldn't want to stay long in a motel room like that, either. Nicotine stains and no curtains :P

Saoirse might have liked the fact there were no curtains, though... ;=) 

@ktarsims replied to your post 

Hmmmmmm. So, I’d have to agree on certain points. First, I don’t think drinking actually changes our morality or changes our minds about what we would like to do. It merely makes us care less about the negative consequences that might result from such actions, which is why we’d refrain if not drinking. I came to this conclusion mostly based on experience. I apparently don’t have many things I want to do that I normally don’t because I’m afraid of consequences. (It makes me a very boring but somewhat loquacious drunk. Heh. Sooo many people have been disappointed by that, because they assume I’m just repressing my wilder tendencies.) However, I also feel I should point out that pressuring someone to do something while they’re drunk and therefore less caring about the negative consequences that may result is also a big ‘no-no’. It’s why you can’t assume someone is actually freely consenting to sex if they’re drunk. They may not be considering or currently caring about the consequences. That said... Anita clearly got drunk on purpose, so... That said, Saffron deliberately planned this out in advance, and it was not merely an impulse decision while drunk, so...My conclusion is basically... Saffron holds more responsibility here, because she definitely deliberately manipulated everyone involved, and planned it in advance while completely sober. Anita was careless, and is paying the price for that, but she would never have expected something like this to come up from this source, and I doubt she’d have consented to it, even while drunk, had anyone ELSE asked her.

Very interesting. Yes, Saffron’s actions were premeditated. She planned the whole evening, and wanted Anita to have a white llama. And yes, I also agree that it was a unique set of circumstances that led to Anita swallowing one of the pills, and I feel very sorry for her. 

I agree too with your argument that Saffron should hold the most responsibility, but I think too she can be absolved because her intentions were good. She just wanted to bond with Anita, and for both of them to have an awesome birthday celebration. I feel sorry for her, too!  

@ktarsims

Meanwhile... Roy... *sigh* is Roy. Personally he’s the type of person I’d either oust from my life completely, or keep away from as much as possible. Selfish, thoughtless, and if he hadn’t got caught and had major consequences to face himself, wouldn’t care much about the fallout for everyone else. Or at least, would spout nonsense about how none of it had anything to do with him until even he believed it.

Heh that’s Roy in a nutshell! I still love him though. And he does have some good qualities...when he’s in your corner, he’ll fight for you tooth and nail, and he’s also generous to a fault. He has a very good head for business, and he’s tenacious, bold, resilient, and frequently hilarious...or at least he reckons he is! 

[littleladymab]

tiny cracks of light - chapter thirteen

(master post)

Prelude- Elias' voice cuts through the haze of his office. "I thought I would come and check on how you are settling in," he says when Jon looks up with a start. "Are you finding everything to your satisfaction?" 

Jon looks around the cramped and crowded office, as if the space is answer enough. "I am wondering," he begins slowly, measuring his words in front of the Watcher, "just what sort of structure my predecessor maintained." 

Elias looks as well, amusement obvious in his gaze. "None, I would imagine." 

"Right…" 

He steps into the office, and Jon can feel the atmosphere shift and bend in his presence. It is like the attention of the world moves in to focus on him. "You will be able to get this straightened out in short order." 

Jon gives the stacks of papers and files, organized with no knowable rhyme or reason, a despondent glance. "Perhaps in a year, I will be able to make a dent—" 

"Jonathan," the man says, and Jon can't help but turn to look. "I didn't hire you because I valued your organizational skills." 

"No, Watcher, I don't imagine that you did." Though to be perfectly honest, he wasn't entirely too sure why it had been him. 

Elias doesn't clarify, and merely smiles in answer to Jon's mounting confusion. "There will be many things in this line of work, Archivist," he says suddenly, and his tone shifts — filling the room with a gentle hum like the buzz of insects on a summer's day. "Powerful things, dangerous things, all who wish to do harm to you and the Archives. You must not let them." 

Jon opens his mouth to answer, but the atmosphere of the room presses in on his throat and makes it impossible to force the words out. So he nods, though Elias doesn't seem to notice. 

He is focused on a crossed out drawing of an eye in the corner of one of Gertrude's notes. Elias pulls the piece of paper free and considers it. "Understand that your first duty is to the Eye. That is something that I believe your predecessor forgot during her service here." 

Eventually, he looks up and smiles at Jon, and the tension of the room wavers — then shatters like glass. "I look forward to working with you, Archivist." 

"And you, sir," Jon manages, breathless, but Elias is already heading back for the door. 

Elias stops in the threshold, then glances over his shoulder. "Oh, one more thing." 

"Yes?" 

"Keep an eye on your assistants. I should hate for anything to befall them." With another benign smile, Elias closes the door to the office behind him. 

Jon wonders if that was just a simple word of advice, or a warning for the future. 

Melanie laughs. 

Lukas doesn't seem to expect this reaction, and he stares at both of them in shock. 

Sasha can't manage words around the chaos of sound in her head, but above it all, the gut-wrenching realization of this is what he did to Martin. 

Finally, Melanie is able to pull herself back under enough control to manage a cheerful if not vehement, "Fuck off." 

He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut again. 

"Listen, full offence, but we're not buying whatever you're selling. And I can tell you without any shred of a doubt…" Melanie leans in, around Sasha's shoulder, knife-sharp grin over her face. "Neither of us believe your bullshit." 

And then she loops her arm through Sasha's and tugs her into the maze of the stacks. 

Sasha starts to turn around, just to see if they're being followed, or what sort of reaction he might have, but Melanie squeezes her arm and pulls her in closer. 

"Don't look back. If there's one thing you need to know about this place, it's don't look back." 

Sasha wants to argue with her, to say that she knows this place better than most, but in the end it was that thinking that got her into trouble in the beginning. So instead she takes the lead and directs them out of one of the side doors of the Archives and they stumble out into the late afternoon sun. 

She releases Melanie as soon as they are free and she doubles over — hands on knees and struggling to force the air into her lungs. Her brain continues to run the noise on loop, over and over, the Eye and the Stranger and her own fears chasing themselves in circles. 

Melanie stands by, unimpressed. "It wasn't that bad," she says, as if she has any right to comment on what is bad by Sasha's standards. 

But she shakes her head, hand clenched to her chest and the other gripping her knee. It's not mine, she wants to say. It's not my fear. 

It's everyone's. It's Jon's, Tim's, Daisy's, those whose marks she bears. 

And it's a reminder that she is only temporary. 

That's how Daisy and Tim find her, though she can't make out anything that they're saying. 

Tim's hand lands between her shoulder blades, and he eases her down onto the grass so she's no longer trying to stand on shaky legs. 

Slowly, eventually, everything settles into the gentle crackle of fire beneath his touch. She can hear him speaking to her in a low voice, repeating soothing words until she leans into his shoulder. 

Daisy crouches down in front of her. "What happened?" 

"I don't know," she whispers. She coughs to clear her throat and tries again. "A lot all at once." 

"Peter Lukas happened," Melanie spits. 

Daisy's head swivels up in her direction, and Tim's arm tightens around Sasha's shoulders. "Is he still in the Archives?" she asks with a tone that implies I would like to rip his throat out with my teeth.

The mark of the Hunt across her throat from Daisy's nails hums in agreement, and it's an effort to swallow it down. "No," Sasha says to that impulse. "I need…" She breathes in, and out. "I need you to get the others. We have to leave." 

"Where are we going?" Tim asks, helping her back to her feet as she tries to stand. 

"To the lake. I don't think we can be seen there." 

Melanie gets an expression like she wants to make a joke, but she does the monumental task of resisting the urge. "I'll find Georgie," she says, and heads off around the far side of the Archives. 

"Tim, can you get Basira?" Sasha asks before Daisy can offer. 

He looks offended at the suggestion. "I'd rather stay with you." 

"I'll meet you in ten minutes. Twenty, tops." She gives in to the urge to leave a kiss on his lips, simply because she can. "Daisy will be with me." 

She can feel the argument burning away inside him, but then he nods and steps away. He gives Daisy a brief, meaningful look before following Melanie. 

Daisy waits until he rounds the edge of the building before turning to Sasha. "I was serious, you know." 

"I know," Sasha says, rubbing her hand against her throat. 

Daisy watches, but doesn't react. 

Sasha struggles to try and figure out how to phrase what she wants to say — piecing between what she knows is likely, and what might just be fear talking. Slowly, hesitating, she says, "We are running out of time." 

There is the slightest twitch of Daisy' brow, but no other reaction. 

"I might have to be more reckless going forward. Whatever happens, your first task will always be protecting the others. Regardless of what that means for me." 

Daisy's head bows. "As I have been tasked by Jon." 

"No, this is me asking you as a favor." Again, her hand strays to her throat. She can feel the claws digging into her skin, and the razor wire of the Hunt around her arms. "I would not ask this of you if I didn't think it was the only way." 

With a snort, Daisy glances back where Tim had gone. "There are others who could do it." 

"Then if they react first against me, let them. Protect the others, that's all I ask." 

Daisy sighs and nods. "I understand." 

"Good." Sasha brushes past her to head back to the door into the Archives, but Daisy catches her before she can get close enough. 

"What do you think you're doing?" 

She tries to tug herself free, but Daisy's grip is stronger. "I need to write a letter." 

Daisy snorts. 

"To Martin." 

Her eyes narrow. "What good do you think that will do?" 

Sasha still hasn't told anyone how he pulled her into his own pocket dimension, or what he had said to her. "He's wrapped up in whatever Lukas is doing. And I don't believe that he's given up on Jon, so he needs to pick a side." When she gives her arm another tug, Daisy releases her and lets her go. 

Thankfully, the reading table she had occupied is empty. There is still the shape that Lukas had folded, which Sasha thinks might be a boat. 

Another sheet is folded in a strange diamond shape, tilted away. She bumps into it as she reaches for a clean page and a pen, and it blinks in her direction — a single, carefully folded eye. 

Her hand lashes out and knocks it away before she can even think about it. 

As quickly as she can manage, she writes a veiled note to Martin. She doesn't know if Lukas will find it or not, or if Elias will be able to read it if he tried. 

Our solution might no longer be viable.  We'll be back soon. - S 

After a moment's hesitation, she draws a symbol onto the top half of the page. She doesn't have a piece of Martin to tie to the note, but she can at least do her best to ensure that he is the only one to read it. "In this house of eyes, may only his see," she whispers to the page, and finishes the spell with a breath. 

As quickly as she can, she slips back through the Archives to Martin's office. It's been ages since she's been up here. It used to belong to Michael, when he was still an assistant. Then it stood empty for over a year before it was claimed by Martin. 

When Sasha stretches out her connection to the Eye, trying to find any sort of evidence that anyone is behind the door, her search comes up blank. But based on the chills she had received from both Martin and Peter Lukas during her interactions with them, she's not certain that means the office is empty. 

She slips the letter beneath the door, and presses her hand to the wood. "I hope you're okay," she says softly. 

Then she turns away and leaves to meet with the others.

[irandrura]

More detailed, spoiler-full thoughts on Xenoblade Chronicles 2:

One of the things that always fascinates me, when I compare JRPGs and WRPGs, is the sorts of conflicts they’re interested in, or the sorts of questions they ask. XC2 is yet another example of a JRPG that asks a question that simply never seems to arise in Western games. That question is: is there an ethical basis for the world’s existence? Is there a justification for the world continuing to be? Is existence, being, even a good thing at all?

XC2 is fascinated by this question, and even by the more narrow questions of “is it a good thing for humans to exist?” or “is it a good thing for people in general to exist?” It takes these questions very seriously, to the extent that characters who firmly conclude “no” are treated as sympathetic antagonists, rather than madmen.

Western games only rarely raise similar questions. Every now and then you get a madman in Fallout who thinks humanity is a scourge and should be replaced by some other race, or the likes of Archaon in Warhammer, who seeks to destroy the world because the gods demand it – but these characters are generally not treated sympathetically, and very little time is spent refuting them. Of course you stop the guy who wants to destroy the human race. What, you need a reason? Here’s one: you’re human, so are people you care about, end of story. There’s not much to engage with there. In the likes of Skyrim, when Arngeir suggests that maybe the right thing to do is to allow the world to be destroyed, the player’s response is incredibly perfunctory. “I like the world. All my stuff is here.” What more could you possibly need?

But justifying existence seems like a more central question to JRPGs. Not only XC2, but if I think back to, say, Final Fantasy X, or Final Fantasy VII, or Final Fantasy VI, or, well, half the games in that entire series, a frankly bizarre amount of time is spent arguing with nihilists who believe that the world and/or the human race should be destroyed, because... um, suffering exists, or the world is meaningless, or people are awful, take your pick.

My usual approach is to just attribute these differences to religion. The West is deeply influenced by the Abrahamic tradition, in which God creates the world and pronounces it good. There can be no real question of whether existence is good or not. To even ask the question is blasphemy. This instinct now seems so deeply-rooted that even atheists, who outwardly reject all religion, just take it as read that existence is a good thing. By contrast, Japan still has a historical Buddhist influence, and Buddhism is much more skeptical of the value of being. If you could destroy samsara... would you? Is the goal of the spiritual life to escape, to obtain release from the shackles of the world? The Buddhist tradition contains significantly greater ambivalence towards the world.

In XC2’s case, I think it’s a little more complicated, because XC2, like XC1, is heavily influenced by Gnosticism. I am far from the first person to suggest a similarity between Christian Gnosticism and Buddhism, of course, but here I think the Christian imagery comes to the fore. Klaus is a demiourgos, the Architect of this world, standing in the place of God despite not being truly divine himself. This flawed creator goes on to let loose his own trinity – Ontos, Logos, and Pneuma; Being, Word, and Spirit – but nonetheless is full of regret, unsure as to the value of the world he has tried to build. God himself is not visible; only this broken man trying to fill in for God. Even he is not convinced of the world’s goodness!

(And while we’re on the topic of Christian imagery, yes, I know, Pyra and Mythra’s core crystal is cross-shaped, and Pyra is symbolically crucified like four times in the plot, it’s not subtle.)

But to step away from religion for a moment and look back at specific characters...

  What drives most of the central characters of XC2 is, initially at least, the desire to cease. Amalthus believes that the world is nothing but a vale of tears, and regards the world with little but hate and disgust. Malos is corrupted by Amalthus’ hate and believes that justice requires the world be destroyed. Jin is driven mad by the cruelty of the world, comes to hate the Architect and seek to destroy him. Even Pyra, our ostensible heroine, wants to reach Elysium in order to beg the Architect for permission to commit suicide and cease to be.

As such, the heart of the story of XC2 is responding to all this with, “No! Life is worth living!”

It seems like such a banal message. If anything, it’s doubly so because the game’s protagonist, Rex, is the most relentlessly optimistic and upbeat person in the world. Rex is the sort of person who’ll respond to all the above with an innocent, “Well, that’s how life is, you know? You’ve gotta take the good with the bad.” He has no darkness in him at all. Even Shulk, who was a total sweetie-pie, was willing to go on a quest to flat-out kill someone for revenge. Rex is truly a beautiful cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure. Heck, one of his lines in battle is a completely unironic “We’ll beat them with the power of friendship!”

That’s one of the odd things, for me. Rex himself does not struggle with inner darkness, or with anything I’d recognise as suicidal tendencies or depression. He searches for an answer to justify the world to Malos, but ultimately doesn’t come up with anything more coherent than, “There are wonderful, valuable things in this world, and I believe people can change, and I know that you once believed that too!” This isn’t a story where Rex finds a substantive answer to the question, or one that would satisfy a philosopher. Rather, he ‘solves’ the puzzle through sheer force of will. He ends up convincing the Architect that the world has merit not through anything he says, but through what he does – through his selfless optimism and belief in other people.

Just as Amalthus and Jin concluded the world needs to die not because of philosophy, but because of traumatic personal experience, Rex concludes the world needs to live because of positive, uplifting personal experience. The answer to the dark impulse that would destroy the world is to point to positive relationships within it, even in the lives of the people trying to destroy it: Mikhail and Patroka, or even Jin and Malos, have genuine friendships. (The moment where Malos stops to hug Jin, even as he heads off to destroy the world, is surprisingly touching.)

On one level this really works. It fits surprisingly well with the overall Christian themes: the answer to “why should the world exist?” is “loving relationships”. Pyra’s answer, in fact, is “I love this world because you’re in it.”

On another level, it feels a touch disappointing, if only because it means the climax of the game is just a reiteration of what the player’s been hearing for the past fifty hours: yes, love and friendship and bonds are good things!

Where Xenoblade 2 works, I think for me, is where the specifics of the relationships feel powerful enough to make those clichés feel fresh. The game’s world sets up a number of reasons to despair (the world is slowly dying, the titans are dying, people are warring over the declining and limited resources, etc.) and then sets up a lot of obstacles to relationship (the Blades, immortal, but having their memories wiped every time their closest friends die, feel quite tragic), and then shows love and friendship perpetually overcoming them. The game’s strongest moments are those where, at a point of despair, somehow love saves the day again. Chapter seven stands out here: both the moment where Nia reveals her true identity, and where Rex practically raises Pyra from the dead by standing over her body and talking about how much he believes in her. Naturally, then, the game ends on the emotional high of the entire playable cast flying off into the sunset, looking fond of each other, Pyra and Mythra’s miraculous return, and the closing line: And thus, boy met girl. Like any good love story, it works only if you buy into the characters’ emotions.

 Xenoblade Chronicles 2, summarised: “Should you commit suicide? No, because love.”

Now that said, two other random observations:

In the first Xenoblade, I really disliked the Klaus twist at the end. It felt like it came out of nowhere, required a large exposition dump, and didn’t add much to the plot. For me, the first Xenoblade felt pretty much entirely downhill after the defeat of Metal Face. Xenoblade 2 still has more-or-less the same backstory with Klaus, but here I thought it was contextualised much better and was more effective. The revelation that the Architect is the torn remains of an ancient scientist, trying to rebuild the world from scraps but now half-given up on the whole project as a waste, feels like it fits much better with the world that we explored.

Xenoblade 2’s world always felt somewhat artificial, and from the very start of the game it was evident that there was a previous world before this one. There’s something beneath the Cloud Sea, and whatever it might be, it was evidently once technologically advanced. Making Rex a salvager was a good move to emphasise that, and the way that so much of the world’s economy depends on salvaging the ruins beneath the sea reinforces the sense of the world as being in decay. The Architect is mentioned at the start of the game, so you know that the world was made or at least modified by someone for an unclear purpose, and the World Tree is mysterious enough. So when later in the game you do go below the Cloud Sea and discover the remains of ancient cities, and then find that within the World Tree is an advanced scientific installation, it doesn’t feel like it came out of nowhere. Indeed, the final revelation – that ages ago a scientist accidentally destroyed the world in an experiment, and this is his imperfect attempt to fix it – feels both like a genuine discovery, but also something that, well, makes sense. Of course it was that. Of course! That explains so much about why Alrest is the way it is.

  The second observation is... okay, so, XC1 and XC2 are in continuity, that’s all good. How does XCX fit in, if it does at all? I was a bit disappointed when Klaus’ flashback mentioned ‘Saviorites’ attacking the experimental station. Who are they? I wanted to assume that Klaus’ experiment was some sort of cutting-edge secret research immediately before the Ganglion attacked at the start of XCX. That way the aliens attack and start to destroy the Earth, in a panic Klaus tries to accelerate his experiment, hoping he can use the power of the Conduit to save the world, he screws up and ends up splitting the Earth off into two parallel dimensions, creating the worlds of XC1 and XC2, and meanwhile the survivors of Earth in the home dimension escape on their Ark Ships and go and do XCX. That would fit all three games together pretty elegantly, and Conduit-related weirdness might also help explain what the heck is up with Mira in XCX.

But there doesn’t seem to have been any room left for that, so I guess XCX is a completely different continuity? That just... also contains Nopon, who for some reason have heard of Shulk and the Monado? Who knows?

[sweetsmellosuccess]

TIFF 2020: Days 5 & 6

Films: 5

Best Film of the Day(s): New Order

Good Joe Bell: Or, The Education of a Straight White Father. What Reinaldo Marcus Green’s film lacks in depth, it tries hard to make up for with earnestness. Mark Wahlberg plays the real-life father, who was in the process of walking across America in honor of his gay son, who committed suicide after being badly bullied in his smalltown Oregon high school, before he was accidentally hit on the road and killed in Colorado, six months into his planned two-year sojourn. The story is cut up between the present, with Joe on the road, doing terse speaking engagements (as Wahlberg plays him, the taciturn Bell isn’t much for public speaking), at local high schools and churches, and flashbacks to the past, as his son, Jadin (Reid Miller), attempts to get through his high school experience while being the subject of bullying, both in-person and via the Internet, until he reaches his breaking point. The message is certainly resonant, and Miller plays Jadin with the right amount of heartbreaking pathos, but Green’s film feels unnecessarily mechanized in order to put Joe front and center of the story (using a hallucination of Jadin at the beginning, which allows Joe to interact with him feels more than a little manipulative). Bell, with his quick temper, and impatience for anything that’s not directly to do with him, is a reasonable stand-in for exactly the type of straight white male who should be watching the film (but more than likely won’t). Wahlberg is gifted at playing this sort of character, who wants to have the full attention of everyone any point in time he chooses (“Did you hear what I said?” he asks incredulously after making an announcement and not receiving the proper praise for it). He’s a complicated dude, which the film alludes to without entirely capturing: He’s ready to fight at a moment’s notice, but shies away from directly confronting any of Jadin’s tormentors; has the good intention to take action to draw attention to the problem, but doesn't seem the least bit prepared to give a speech that really makes an impact (one detail the film does make work: His manner of saying “I love you” to his wife or sons, but only as a way of getting them to say it back to him). Connie Britton plays Lola, Jadin’s mother, a largely thankless role as the nurturer of the family, loving both her sons (Jadin’s brother Joseph is played by Maxwell Jenkins), and staying supportive no matter their father’s attitude. Near the end of his journey, as Joe begins to see the true folly of his ways, he meets a Sheriff (Gary Sinise), whose oldest son is also gay, which allows the two men to sit on the front porch of the sheriff’s house and contemplate the ways in which their lives didn’t go as expected. It’s clearly meant for the kick-ass Wahlberg audience (as Jadin says earlier in the film, they’re the actual problem), but I very much doubt they will be heading in droves to see it.

New Order: Meet the new boss, only in Michel Franco’s damning portrait of a society locked forever in cycles of oppression, revolution, and new oppression, it makes no difference who you are, what your belief system is, or whether or not you subscribe to a moral set of ethics. After an ominous opening montage of imagery largely taken from the film to come, we shortly begin at a resplendent wedding held at the city manse of a wealthy businessman for his daughter, Marianne (Naian Gonzalez Norvind), and her betrothed, Alan (Dario Yazbek Bernal). As Marianne’s mother, Pilar (Patricia Bernal) happily secrets away the envelopes carrying the new couples’ gift money in her safe, and rich and powerful families co-mingle, the distant danger of a furious revolution, lead by violent rioters raising up against the economic disparities of the city, seems at first to be light-years away. Until it isn’t. As rioters infiltrate the house, with the help of an insider, chaos reigns and bullets fly. The next morning, many people have been shot, the house has been utterly pillaged, and Marianne has been taken hostage by a rogue group of military, who snatch up wealthy-seeming refugees and hold them for ransom at an undisclosed outpost. By film’s end, Franco, working from his own screenplay, leaves no man, woman, or child unmarked. The wealthy are callous and vain, the rioters bloodthirsty and cruel, the hostage takers unbelievably greedy and horrible, and the righteous vanquished by further corruption at even higher levels of power. It’s a bit like the ending of a Coen brothers picture (Burn After Reading comes to mind), in which all loose ends are closed, and few, if any, people are any the wiser for it; only, there’s nothing the least bit arch in Franco’s thrown gauntlet: We aren’t spared the worst of it by indelible Coens’ proxies. We are all to blame, it would seem, and it has nothing to do with original sin: Our conniving, violent nature will undo any and all attempts to curb it. Insatiable avarice is our continual undoing, washing over us like the green paint the rioters hurl at passing cars and pedestrians, marking them as the enemy. In Franco’s thunderous film, nobody emerges unscathed; we’re all set on fire.

Wildfire: It’s a hoary Hollywood staple to substitute individuals as emotional stand-ins to capture the direness of historic catastrophic events, scaling everything down so we care more about the couple in star-crossed love than the war going on all around them. In Cathy Brady’s Irish drama, however, a pair of sisters are reunited after a year’s absence in the North Ireland bordertown in which they grew up, products of the uneasy peace, post-Troubles, in which everyone is meant to get along as one country, though hard feelings still abound. Kelly (Nika McGuigan) returns to the staid home of her sister, Lauren (Nora-Jane Noone), after taking off on her own the year before, and, by all appearances, living as a vagabond. Initially thrilled to have her sister back, Lauren is also still angry with her for taking off suddenly and not making any contact since. When the girls were little, their father was killed in a political bombing, and their mother might have committed suicide as a result (the car accident that killed her was, apparently, suspicious). Left to their own devices, then, they developed a fierce protective shell against any outsiders, including, it turns out Lauren’s increasingly concerned husband (Martin McCann), and longtime family friend Veronica (Joanne Crawford). The film changes gears when Lauren finally accepts Kelly again, and the two reform their partnership as intense as it was before. As the film points out, in a real sense, they are all each other truly have in the aftermath of their tragic childhood. The film clicks better into focus as well in its final act, when the sisters are reunited against all comers, and the world around them is better revealed for what it is: They represent the schism still very much a part of their community that no one else wants to see. Instead, people hang about in bars, or at work, nursing the bitternesses and hurts of the Troubles in private, and putting their public energy to getting along. Kelly, with her wildnesses and significant impulse control issues (trying to teach a young boy how to hold his breath underwater is, perhaps, not best accomplished by holding him down until he begins to panic), is at least honest with her feelings, open to her various wounds, and refusing to put the past behind them. Their mother gets referred to as “crazy” in the town’s estimation, but it’s more likely she, like her two daughters, represents the clear-eyed view of someone who refuses to live in denial.

Concrete Cowboy: Philadelphia as an open prairie has a nice vibe, and Ricky Staub’s film about a troubled teen who mother takes him from Detroit to where his father, an urban cowboy, lives in North Philly in hopes to setting the kid straight, is made with genuine care and gets solid performances from its mixture of professional and amateur actors. If this sounds like faintly damning praise, it’s only because despite its strengths, it still feels like a great set-up in search of a suitable story. Based on the real-life Fletcher Street stables (and the novel from Greg Neri), in which locals on the rough streets of the city shelter and take care of a group of horses for the sheer love of riding, the story follows the difficult maturation of Cole (Caleb McLaughlin), a decent enough kid, but searching for his place in the world, and the tough-love tactics of his dad, Harp (Idris Elba), a longtime cowboy, who hasn’t been in his son’s life in more than a decade. Cole starts out hating everything about his new situation, from Harp’s barebones lifestyle (not only are the cupboards empty, and the fridge filled with nothing but Coke and Bud Light, Harp keeps one of his horses in the living room, sharing it with his son), to being forced to muck the stalls out at the stables to earn his chance to ride, takes up with an old friend, Smush (Jharrel Jerome), a charismatic kid caught up in the drug life. Naturally, Cole’s choice comes down to which sort of life he wants to have, his father’s hardscrabble but honest approach (made more attractive when Cole develops a bond with his own horse, Boo), or Smush’s push for increased market share and more money to buy his own piece of land out West. Shot on location in North Philly, and around the city  —  one shot, in which Cole sits astride boo in full silhouette against a mottled purple sky, the lampposts standing in for saguaros, hits just the right note -- Staub’s film has a properly gritty texture, and the use of some of the real Fletcher cowboys adds further verisimilitude, but the story moves predictably enough, beat-by-beat, that it doesn’t hit with the potency it might have been capable of with a less predictable narrative arc.  

In a year of bizarre happenings, and altered realities, TIFF has shifted its gears to a significantly paired down virtual festival. Thus, U.S. film critics are regulated to watching the international offerings from our own living room couches.

[insfiringyou]

BTS - RM makes up with his girlfriend following an argument

Contains: Angst. Arguments. Tender moments. Mentions of past relationships. Several other ‘regular’ original characters are mentioned briefly here - Jeong-sun, Angel, Seo-yon (burgundy haired girl) and Ji-young (oranged haired girl).

This is part of our headcanon universe and involves Namjoon and his girlfriend Ji-eun. This is set two weeks following the events of “Boat Party” where his gf gets drunk and embarrasses him in front of their friends to the point of them breaking up. The events of this fic are also briefly mentioned by Jimin in “The Play” which is set a few weeks after this fic. 

Find out more about our headcanon universe and original characters here 

& To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook & Our full masterlist can be found here

Content below the cut

Ji-eun tugged the hemline of her uncharacteristically demure sweater and shifted from foot to foot by the door until it opened a moment later. Jimin stood silhouetted in the hallway, surrounded by soft artificial light. The evening had started to darken outside; the sky a pattern of soft blues blending into pinks.

She recalled spending the day after the boat party sleeping off a hangover, drifting in and out of consciousness and remembering snippets of events from the evening before. The yacht was mostly a blur but the hours which followed, in her one bedroom apartment, were a little more clear. The two girls who had accompanied her home in the back seats of an orange Kia, both with colourfully dyed hair, had raided her kitchen cupboards in search of spirits, eventually finding, at her own instructions, a half-empty bottle of vodka. The driver of the Kia, a dark haired girl who had donned a pair of rectangular spectacles in the vehicle, sat awkwardly beside her on the sofa, waiting for her friends to be finished so she could drive the remainder of the way home. A fourth girl, with bottle blonde hair, had asked if she could use the bathroom as Ji-eun attempted to down the shot. Her head thumped unpleasantly and, seconds after her visitors left, had found herself on her knees once more by the toilet, pushing up the white lid frantically as her body protested. 

“Is he in?” She asked Jimin steadily, wrapping her arms a little awkwardly across her covered chest. He hesitated for a moment before nodding silently. She wondered whether he was going to stop her from coming in when she stepped closer but the moment passed and she slipped past him into the long hallway. She walked to the end of the hall and knocked on Namjoon’s door, waiting for a reply. 

His expression was tense when he opened up and recognised the visitor. His eyes flashed coldly as they met hers and, for a moment, she thought he was going to slam the door in her face. His gaze slid from hers to the figure in the hallway behind her, watching as Jimin attached the safety lock to the front door and slipped off to his room awkwardly, his expression a little cautious, as though anticipating an outburst from the leader. Without a word, Namjoon allowed her to sidestep him into the bedroom and he closed the door behind them as she walked into the centre of the room, standing by the double bed. She glanced at him a little timidly, worlds away from the cool confidence she had shown on the doorstep in front of Jimin. 

“I went to your apartment.” She explained fumblingly. “I didn’t know if you were ignoring the doorbell.” A pause. “You didn’t reply to my texts.”

His jaw was tense and he remained silent for a moment. She wondered if he was ever going to reply when he finally spoke. “I didn’t have anything to say to you.” 

She flinched impulsively before he continued. The steeliness in his voice was unexpected; different to how she had ever seen him. 

“You humiliated me on the yacht.” 

She couldn’t meet his gaze and found herself dropping her head. “I know…” She said weakly. “I don’t know what got into me.”

“You mean besides half the country’s annual import of gin?” He sniped drily.

“I know I shouldn’t have drunk so much…I don’t usually behave like that.”

There was a long pause as Namjoon seemed to think this through. “I know you don’t…I don’t know what was bothering you so much. It couldn’t have just been the drink. You wouldn’t have said those things if there wasn’t anything else on your mind.”

She sighed slowly. “It was just a long day. And you know how things have been at work…how I’d applied to another company.”

Namjoon shook his head. “You know I would support you with the change in management if that’s what you want…I don’t know why you seem to think I wouldn’t.”

She paused for a moment. “You didn’t seem happy about it when I mentioned it to you…”

“I was just concerned. You’ve worked so hard…I wouldn’t want you to lose the chance of a promotion.” He explained calmly. 

“I know what I’m doing.” She raised her voice a little, already forgetting she was trying to apologise until a second later when the softness in Namjoon’s tone took her aback. 

“I know you do.” 

There was a long pause between them before they finally met each other’s gaze across the space. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been getting so defensive…” Ji-eun said softly. “My ex husband didn’t want me to go to Law school…I guess I still feel like I have something to prove to everyone.” She shifted uncomfortably. 

Namjoon shook his head. “I just wish you’d talk to me.” 

“I know.” She licked her lips slowly, running her tongue through the dry, cracked grooves before swallowing, moistening her throat. “I love you Namjoon.”

He remained quiet at this statement and she felt her pulse start to race uneasily. “I’m so sorry about what happened. I’d do anything to make it up to you.” Her words came out rapid, jumbled.

Namjoon shook his head slowly. “I just wonder if this is how its going to be. If every time we go out and have a drink, we end up arguing and hurting each other all over again.”

An awkward shuffling noise came from outside the bedroom door, socks against carpet, followed by the low whine of a door closing on squeaky hinges. It didn’t surprise him that one or more of the others had been listening from outside. He suspected Jimin or Taehyung but didn’t care…when he turned back to Ji-eun he saw she was crying and his chest ached with a strange mixture of pity and anger. He had never seen her like this before, her shoulders heaving with shudders as she clutched her palm to her face. He had done this to her but also, her actions two weeks before had caused him more pain than he could express.

“I’m sorry…” She repeated, wiping her face. Mascara streamed down her cheeks in long, black lines. “I can’t explain how much…I’ve never felt like this with anyone else before.” She sniffed loudly. “Please don’t leave me. I’ll do anything to make this work.” 

Despite himself, Namjoon felt his throat grow tight as he swallowed what felt like a knot. He didn’t cry, but thought he might start if the woman opposite him didn’t get herself under control soon. Her pleading tone was so unlike the confident, sassy woman he had grown to love during their months together and he realised, a little belatedly, that she had not expected him to behave so callously. She was used to being in control of the situations around her and his headstrong demeanour this evening had taken her aback. 

“Ji-eun…” He murmured, taking a step closer. “I don’t want to leave you.”

She looked up with wide, wet eyes. “You don’t?” She asked softly.

He shook his head. “I love you too.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t want to fight with you.“ He placed his hand gently on her shoulder and she trembled in reply. 

“You too…”

He cut in. “But I don’t think I can just forget everything right here and now.”

He felt her shoulders slump beneath his hand but he held her steady, reassuringly. “Can you give me some time…if we are going to make this work I don’t want to have any anger left in me.”

Ji-eun nodded. “I’ll go now…I really need this to work Namjoon…”

“I know. Me too.” He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze as he walked to the bedroom door and opened it for her. Unsurprisingly, he saw Jimin’s bedroom door, across the hall, twitch as he led her out. 

“Do you need a lift home?” He asked, opening the front door. and observing it was now dark outside. 

She shook her head. “I parked across the road but thanks.”

He nodded. “I’ll text you soon.”

She paused, wondering whether he was going to kiss her goodbye. The moment passed as she walked down the front steps of the ground floor apartment and into the street. "Thank you. I’ll see you.” She waved a little awkwardly as she headed towards her car. 

***

Thanks for reading. The next chapter in this storyline is “The Play” set around a week later. Read all of RM’s headcanon fanfictions to date in order here & our full masterlist of all works can be found here. 

You can support us by buying admins a coffee here (if you wish). :)

[scrumptiousalpacadeer]

Post Covid joyfulness; vole death; and why I love my Frida Cagnolino

Good morning dear reader(s),!.. indifferent universe, loving universe...

I hope you are very well this Tuesday. Things have been rather eventful since my opening post; yesterday I staked my row of snapdragons; planting sticks like crutches for them to lean on so they could bloom to their full potential, on Sunday I went to my FIRST OPEN AIR CAFE FOR THREE MONTHS!!! (that's a whole other story)  

This morning my daughter very nearly saved a vole’s life; she shook our murderous cat Laura down by the swing until she released the vole from its jaws before yelling at me through the kitchen door that she needed a Tupperware container IMMEDIATELY. We both kind of knew the vole wasn’t gonna make it; it was in full shock, quivering in the corner of the container, in that way that humans do after a car crash or some terrible news... the last energies go into the death shake - the ‘crossing over’ between life and death. However, vole didn’t give up without a final adventure - it escaped the container and dashed to the bathroom for one last foray in this world. Minutes later my daughter said; ‘I was wrong mama. He died. One minute I looked up and he was alive. And the next minute I looked up and he was dead.’ I resisted the temptation to say, ‘well, that's just life, kid!’ and instead told her she’d given him the best death a vole could ever ask for; passing away in a girls den along side her collection of Jacqueline Wilson books; if it hadn’t been for her interception he would have been de-bowelled; torn limb from limb, departing this earth is a chaos of blood and terror. ‘Can I bury him?’ she said. 

Vole is buried along with two of his brethren and a few mice down by the Camelia tree.   

However, the strangest thing that has happened since last waxing is that according to my daughter I said the words ‘Spicy Man’ in my sleep last night.....! Now that's funny. ‘Spicy Man’....!??????? Sometimes words fail. This is one of those times.                                                                                That's the gap where words fail. 

OK, so I promised you the story behind my background picture. Here it is in all its glory; it’s called ‘Frida Cagnolino’ - oil on Gesso - and was created by a lady called Kate Milson in 2015. 

I purchased it at the Battersea Affordable Arts Fair in April 2017. As with any creation there is the story of its creation and the story of its procurement; how it passes from the creator out into the world and lands, lovingly, into the hands of its receiver. And the story of how I came to buy a collage of the Virgin Mary with an owl on her head is quite something. 

First off, this original piece of art cost £1500. I want to be less of a twat about money Post Covid - there’s too much weirdness and shame attached to coins and notes - so there it is. I paid £1500 for this work - much more than I pay in a month’s rent now; far more than I could ever afford to pay for anything right now - but back then, in this other life, I was RICH BEYOND MY WILDEST DREAMS... I had come into a very large amount of money, having been furnished with half the assets of the sale of my father’s house following his death. In short; it was ‘sad money’; ‘dad’s money’ - and the story of ‘how I sp**ked my father’s inheritance up the wall on facials in exactly the same way he sp**ked his life away on a bullshit suburban life that he never believed in for one second’ is a whole other BLog post entirely. 

So anyway, at the Battersea Art Fair 2017 I have money to spend and I’m giddy on the freedom of it. That day I spend £2500 on three pieces of art. What’s interesting and highly significant is that I was also in a wheelchair that day; my beloved *David are *Boo are wheeling me around the various collections at Battersea Evolution Venue,  because, at that time, I was pretty much immobile due to having contracted six blood infections courtesy of some rank and highly illegal black mould in our basement Richmond flat. I was helpless; powerless; hopeless; but I had money to spend and it felt so damn good. I knew deep down that that I’d been corrupted entirely by my father’s fat wad; that I should be shelving it responsibly for my daughter’s college fund or some such; but screw that - I was gonna blow it on art.  And I could pretend I was an arts aficionado. I might not be able to walk 100m straight but I could converse with artists’ agents and immerse myself in astonishing beauty.   

And then it happened. I’m wheeling past a collection, about to turn down the next aisle, and all of a sudden Mother Mary catches my eye. I am drawn like electricity to this burst of read crazy colour, and a blue cloaked magnetic woman just looking at me... I instruct *David to put the brakes on and move towards this glorious work, basking in it for a while. I think I knew I was going to buy this thing from the very first second I laid eyes on it. I felt like Mona Lisa was looking into my soul but at the same time reminding me that life was a gas. 

Its largely a mystery as to why we’re drawn to particular objects. Why do I love this piece of art so? Let me count the ways. Well, it manages at once to be subversive, heretical, beautiful, chaotic, surprising, highly weird, spontaneous, and deeply joyful all at the same time. I love the singularity of ‘her’ - this figure; and I realise now that she represents this beautific mother figure - with infinite love, understanding and kindness - that I’ve been searching for my whole life. Even now as I look at the picture, hanging on the wall to the left of my bed, it’s her blue blue eyes I must meet first. I love her wild and free relationship to animals;  she has an owl on her head but manages to not only retain her dignity, but somehow embrace and be in partnership with this wild gesture. She’s composed, wholly and entirely a woman, but entirely humble and at one with nature and her environment. Somehow, even though she has inherent grace and a natural regality, she doesn’t stand on ceremony. This woman is all knowing; entirely free; a true punk. And I get to hang out with her every day.  

I love the unspoken bond between her and her beloved dog (a Bichon Frise?). ‘Cagnolino’ means ‘lapdog’ in Italian. They both challenge the viewer, inviting us to the party. I like to think the Post-Covid world we’re being asked to form is something akin to this; we have a chance now to choose punk joy and reverence to wild nature over stifling rules and dank conformity.

I love the fact that its a collage - bit and pieces from here and there brought together in one woman’s determined imagination.

 I love the way the brightest yellow surfinia bursts out of  pure blue sky of the most gentle hue, and how this sky in turn bursts out of the blood red streets of Venice; I love the way butterflies flitter all over the place. Perhaps most of all, I adore the purple crown sitting atop the dogs head - and how he wears it so well. 

I love the violent effrontery growingness of it. I love its revolutionary impulse. I love how it reminds me to be free and brave and enjoy the moment; and that when things get really hairy and scary, as they are prone to do from time to time, that there will always and forever be butterflies and surfinias throbbing into life, and if you’re really lucky, you might just get an owl landing on your head, bestowing upon you a scratchy blessing with its razor claws.  And I love the fact that I am the only person in the whole world who has this treasure.   

The artist Kate Milson wrote to me most generously days after I’d settled her art in my house. This piece, she told me,  was largely a collation of images from a bundle of old art magazines bought from a second hand book shop in Venice some years previous. The name Frida is a nod to Frida Kahlo - a woman who created art from a state of paralysis - having survived a near fatal bus accident in her youth. I like this nod to a woman who despite physical confinements, drenched herself in colour and beauty. 

She wrote that she recalled surfinia plants  in her garden when she was a child; how they ‘seemed tough, but once picked die almost immediately’ - and how there seemed to be ‘this combination of strength and fragility to everything in the natural world’. 

I like being reminded of this each morning; that being strong can come directly out of fragility - that they’re intertwined. 

So...there we have it. That’s how Frida came into my life, and actually, even though she felt very ‘costly’ at the time, and I was kind of basking in a wealth I knew couldn’t last, it is of great comfort that this piece will last through my lifetime and maybe beyond. And actually, considering all the hours that went into her making, considering that I may have, in my small way, contributed to an independent artist continuing her craft; and considering all the hours I’ve spent with Frida Cagnolino’s loving gaze  on me, well......she was worth every penny and much much more. 

[momtemplative]

Watching My Diet.

Of Words and Images, That Is.

As for a spoiled life, no life is spoiled but one whose growth is arrested.—Oscar Wilde, from The Picture of Dorian Gray.

1.

When I was pregnant, I was astounded by the amount of shit-advice people felt entitled to force upon me, thanks to the visual whistle-blower of my growing belly.

I kept the book, Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth, by Ina May Gaskin next to my bed like a sacred text. The second half of the book contains a collection of empowered women sharing inspiring stories of their natural birth experiences. I read at least one story every night to off-set the deflating stories that were pushed at me. (One, still clear as day in my mind over a decade later, came from a woman who had never had kids! She said, in low tones and with concern in her eyes, “It’s the most painful thing you will ever experience. You WILL NEED DRUGS.”) 

I would often fall asleep with Ina May’s book on my chest, thinking maybe the positive messages would cause seep into my being, like a topical treatment.

Now, during the era of COVID19, the news is an IV drip of mounting catastrophe into all of our collective veins. And the way we receive news during these current times is 24-7, on screens, visual, relentless and without limits. (PS: as said in Time, “media images can be so intense that they can cause symptoms of acute stress or even PTSD.”) 

Like many, I find myself falling into the habit of using my few-far-between windows of space to either read updates from the Post and the Times, or to check social media. While informative at best, these word-venues are, nutrient-wise, anemic crumbs not suitable for a bottom-feeder.

So why the impulse to keep going back?

According to Time Magazine, “The human brain is wired to pay attention to information that scares or unsettles us—a concept known as “negativity bias“. Meaning, our brains are predisposed to go negative, and the news we consume reflects this.”

On a personal level, my intake of news is rising by the day—sometimes seemingly out of my control. I’ll just be grabbing my phone to check the weather and suddenly I’m well into an article on the pandemic, as if in a trance. 

Without clear boundaries and a bit of mindfulness, the news and media we are ingesting can be far more toxic than beneficial. The effects of constant negative-news consumption are real and complex. 

And I feel the wear-and-tear in my mental state, to be sure. I’ve been taking in the news every night, just before bed, via my tiny phone screen as if that makes it less potent and more manageable. Not the case. I can easily slip into helplessness, along with tasting the vinegar of potent rage in the back of my throat, even as I’m trying to settle in for sleep. 

Anxiety and stress create cortisol, which can wreak havoc throughout the physical body and beyond. My neck and shoulders feel like they are clutching with white-knuckles for some unseen disaster, pretty much all the time. Yoga and breathing provides a world of help while doing it, but the muscle memory is so deep, that the bad patterns often return within moments of back-to-life.

This is not to say the solution is to bypass the news entirely. But if we are in this for the long haul, deliberate choices need to be made, for the stability of everyone.

2.

Last week, my dear friend, Steph, mailed a box of crafting goodies to my girls. An eclectic mix of junk-drawer extractions and art things—things that have the potential to clutter up a house. But, when assembled in a package with intention and love, feel like vintage treasures from another world. Girl scout patches, circa the early 1990’s, ribbon in original packaging from the Carter administration, an untethered bouquet of white plastic glitter flowers. And in the midst of this treasure chest: a hardcover copy of the Oscar Wilde book, The Picture of Dorian Gray.

It was a fancy, old-timey edition that I had read through and written-in during college, using the same red ink from the same red pen the whole way through. My handwriting is young—an un-mastered version of my current script. But my brain is searching and inquisitive. I’m not sure why Steph wound up with the book, but there was a time when I passed out Oscar Wilde books like a communist would pass out propaganda and I likely forced it upon her.

Back then—over twenty years ago, more than half my current age—Oscar Wilde spoke to me in a way I was not accustomed to being spoken to, and brought about feelings that literature rarely provided. I indulged in Him, collected photos, quotes, and bought multiple used copies of his books. He became an unwitting spiritual guide of sorts. I carried the story of his tragic incarceration and subsequent death with me the way a god-fearing man would hold the image of Jesus’ crucifixion close to his heart. If they sold Oscar Wilde on a necklace, I’d have bought one, for sure.

Placing my hands on the cover of that book—while my girls squealed and unpacked the rest of the boxed treasures—was not far from the feeling of placing my hands on a body to massage. Flesh—living, breathing flesh. Cracking open the book brought with it not only the slight sigh that takes place in the inner ear during a good stretch, but also a swell of emotions. I flipped through the pages, feeling saved.

The article, What You Read Matters More Than You Might Think, in Psychology Today discusses the difference between “deep and light reading.” Deep reading is defined as reading that is slow, immersive, rich in sensory detail and emotional and moral complexity. It is distinctive from light reading, which is little more than the decoding of words. The author continues by saying deep reading is great exercise for the brain and has been shown to increase empathy, as well as inspiring reflection, analysis, and personal subtext to what is being read. 

A passage from The Picture of Dorian Gray—”Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there is in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as viol or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?”

Another passage (how can I resist?): “In this country, it is enough for a man to have distinction and brains for every common tongue too wag against him. And what sort of lives do these people, who pose as being moral, lead themselves? My dear fellow, you forget that we are in the native land of the hypocrite.”

How I missed that man. And what a time for him to pay a visit.

3. 

Last weekend, I was feeling particularly ill-at-ease. My speech had edges like so many sharp river rocks. Tears and sadness rotated through in unpredictable gusts. 

On the particular day I refer to, a book called Ordinary Magic, Everyday Life As Spiritual Path all but did a swan dive from my bookshelf and landed at my feet. The cover-image was dated and sun-bleached. The font and spacing came directly from the early 90’s, which is when it was published. I have a vague memory of buying this book at Half-Priced Books in Columbus, just before I made my move out west, in 2002, eighteen years ago. It’s a collection of Buddhist essays that focus on sectioned-out, topics—creativity and community, for example. It did not take long to realize that the editor, John Welwood, steals the whole dang show. His intros to each chapter sparkle with the quiet wisdom of one who is not the headliner, but knows his own worthiness.

(As with Oscar Wilde, I could include countless quotable phrases, but a taste is all you need.) In his introduction to the creativity essays, Welwood said, “By being still and receptive, instead of busily trying to find solutions, we give our intelligence the time and space it needs to find an appropriate way to proceed.” I read that line and gently set the book on my lap to take pause and think to myself, Thank god.

Another account of being liberated by the right words.

The Unknowing. Yes, that is the landscape we all inhabit now. How do we work with such potent feelings of lack-of-control? A classic solution would be to distract the hell out of ourselves so the low hum of anxiety doesn’t seem as loud. Or, we could try to re-frame our reaction, teach the brain that there could be another approach. 

Our lives are, in many ways, on hold as we await a vaccine to protect our collective physical health. But our mental health is not on hold. Our intellect is under non-stop media siege and our sanity begs to be nourished and protected now more than ever. An essential piece of that puzzle (the puzzle of avoiding going clinical insane, that is)—more so than what’s contained in a bottle or that can be purchased online with a credit card—may very well already live on our bookshelf.

John Welwood also said, “What is fresh and alive comes only from the unknown.” I’m pretty sure I’m going to have that phrase tattooed on my forearm  in old-english script after this whole thing is over. 

May 17, 2020

[deusauream]

House Moving Tips Every Homeowner Should Know

Relocating to a brand-new house can be amazing. Despite giving you a fresh start, it offers you with an opportunity to have a new place you can call your own, and check out new opportunities. The fact that moving is fantastic doesn't mean it is a bed of roses. It comes with its reasonable share of difficulties. Primarily, moving is doubtlessly among the most demanding ordeals that property owners deal with. It includes lots of processes, which require one to invest a great deal of time, energy, and resources. The good news is, there is a way to avoid the unpleasantness that comes with moving. Below are a few of the leading tips that will make your next move easy and smooth. 1. Select a removals firm as soon as possible Look-- there are countless movers in the contemporary market. Therefore, finding the very best mover can not be challenging. Well, if this is what you are thinking, then you need to relax and think again. The availability of many removalists in the market makes it harder for homeowners to find perfect movers for their needs. With a flooding market, it becomes hard for local authorities to regulate this trade effectively. This makes it incredibly simple for masquerades to thrive. What is even more bewildering is the fact that all movers use different forms of marketing, therefore persuading their potential clients that they all offer outstanding services that can not be found anywhere else in the market. This makes it easy for homeowners to choose movers who fail to deliver their needs. To ensure your move is trouble-free, do not wait on the last week so that you can find a great mover. Do that as soon as now. You can find the very best mover using a selection of approaches that include; • Get referrals from friends, relatives, or associates There are high possibilities that at least one of your friends, colleagues, or family members have engaged a moving specialist at some time. Therefore, seek to get as many referrals as you can. Ask all the questions that you feel will assist you recognize the very best mover. When you collect all the details you get, analyse it, and recognize the suitable expert for your needs. • Get referrals from other professionals such as roofing professionals, builders, and electricians Do you have contacts with home builders, roofing professionals, or electrical experts? Well, these professionals continuously work with movers, and they might recommend a company that will give you a seamless transition. Therefore, seek their advice, take your time, and research about the referrals you get and make a perfect choice. • Go online With an internet connection, you do not need to get out of your home to find the very best moving expert, all you need to do is visit several review sites, evaluate different experts, see what previous clients and experts are saying about them, and select the one you feel can fulfill your desires. Search for the mover who delights in the most positive comments, and one who has the highest rankings. • Check out local shops This is an overwhelming, yet the most effective approach of finding a terrific removalist. Check out multiple movers yourself and do your due diligence. The movers you shortlist should have licenses and insurances, must be certified, and should display the greatest levels of professionalism. Also, they need to show you a portfolio of works performed in the past to show their experience and offer you a totally free no-obligation quote. Considering that you might get many movers who surpass your expectations, pick the best that you can afford. Likewise, do not forget to trust your impulses! In addition, hire a mover who can provide you with specialised services such as packaging, animal moving, car removals, and piano moving.

Reliable Removals

Our pledge at Reliable Sydney Removalists is a professional first class service. We treat everything we move as if we owned it and we take pride in being the movers you can rely on in Sydney.

2. Make a list The second and the most crucial thing you need to do when preparing to move your house is to make a list. Write everything that you need to do and include a timeline. Of course, you are months away from the move, and you don't have to do everything now. Nevertheless, you will experience a lot of stress if you choose to do everything during the last few days. Create a checklist and mark every item as soon as you achieve it. Doing this will ensure that you don't experience the trouble that comes with moving. 3. Get rid of anything you don't need ahead of time Look-- movers will charge you for the house move based on the weight of your load. This simply means that the more items you have, the more the amount of cash you will pay for your move. Considering that you will not need everything you have in your brand-new home, consider decluttering now. Doing this will save you a great deal of money and time in the long-run.

Remember, you do not need to throw away items you believe you will not need. There are a host of other alternatives available, including recycling and donating. These are doubtlessly, the best choices to consider! 4. Create a packaging plan-- and pack now! Packing things can save you a great deal of money. If you think you have the time and you have the ability to pack things yourself, do not wait until the last week so that you can start undertaking the task. Packing takes a lot of time. Therefore, start doing it now. First, buy packing boxes, or hire them from your mover when possible. Then, dedicate a few hours every day to pack a certain section or room. Once you are done packaging, note that you will have great deals of difficulties trying to put everything in its place when you get to your brand-new home. Therefore, do not forget to label your boxes. Labelling the boxes could be as easy as writing "bed room stuff" on the top of package. Nevertheless, you may have several boxes containing bedroom things. For that reason, you will find it much easier when unpacking if you could add more info in your description, such as "clothes for the master bedroom." When packing yourself, avoid overpacking boxes. Heavy boxes are tough to move and can break down and injure the person carrying them. If you have the budget, consider hiring professional packers, so that you do not need to go through the tiredness and other challenges that ride along with this ordeal. Besides, why do all the dirty work while there is somebody ready to do it for you at a small cost? 5. Know what you can't move There are many things that movers are not permitted to move. They include plants with soil, tins containing chemicals and paints, aerosol sprays, explosives, guns, and a host of other harmful products. You can donate some of these things such as cans of paints and aerosol paints to your neighbours or to charity. Nevertheless, you will need to get rid of anything dangerous before you move. You might also need to contact your local authorities so that you can determine how some items, such as guns, can be moved. If you do not want to leave the plants, you have looked after for many years, remove all the soil from the roots, place them in pots covered with plastics, and move them yourself. However, there are movers who provide plant relocation as a special service. Eliminating items that can not be moved assurances your safety and that of the moving team. 6. Know what to move yourself and pack it There are some things that you can not leave in the hands of your mover, even if he holds the highest degree of professionalism. They include sensitive business files, home deeds, academic certificates, insurance documents, and wills. Others are super-expensive jewellery and paintings. If you are moving these items yourself, make sure you load them early. Since these items will not be covered by your mover's insurance, take care of them throughout the move. For documents, scan them and save copies in a flash drive or in your mobile phone.

7. Make sure your brand-new home is prepared for occupation You do not wish to prepare your brand-new home the minute you get in. You desire your movers to find it all set so that they can put everything in its place, and you can settle in a day. Therefore, have your house cleaned up and ensure it has all the basic utilities required. If you have the time, you can clean the house yourself, if you don't, consider hiring professional cleaners, or better still, work with a mover who offers cleaning services. 8. Load a moving day survival kit Now that you have everything is all set for the move, how will you and your loved ones make it through the moving day? Make sure you have a moving day survival kit packed with the essentials. It should have all the items that will take you through the day, such as phone chargers, treats, hot beverages, and toiletries. It is vital to have easy access to things that will keep you well-fed and hydrated during the chaotic D-day. With everything ready, you will be able to fall directly into bed as soon as the move is over and you are settled in your new abode. 9. Do not exhaust your mind! Obviously, moving house is a big deal. You have lots of expectations, and there are thousands of things you need to be achieved. Nevertheless, do not exhaust your mind. Don't have impractical expectations on what should be done. Look-- it is highly unlikely that you will have everything unpacked and settle on the first day. It will take some time to ensure your brand-new home portrays your personality. Therefore, do not establish the impression that everything needs to come together quickly. As soon as you get to your brand-new home, take some time to unwind. Enjoy the night in a local entertainment joint, or go out with friends (if you have some currently in the new place). You can even use your survival kit for a few days before getting things in order. Moving is not a walk in the park. Nonetheless, with the tips pointed out above, your relocation will be streamlined, and it might become among the best experiences in your life.