#there’s also a photo book on the one shelf you can’t see

[musicismylife120191]

I may possibly have a problem:

[slytherinshua]

YOU WERE ALWAYS CUTE

genre. fluff. warnings. none. pairing. seunghan x fem!reader. wc. 971. a/n. seunghan baby photos are THE MOST ADORABLE THING EVER SKDJKSK I LOVE HIM

“Look at your little hoodie! You were so small!!” You gasped, an infectious smile plastered on your face as you flipped through pages of an old photo book from the mid 2000s. Seunghan’s childhood was documented in candid photos, starting from when he was a newborn to around his 8th birthday.

You were having the time of your life adoring how precious your boyfriend was as a baby. Seunghan, however, not so much. He had been hiding his face in his hands for the last 5 minutes, begging you to stop just seconds after his mother had handed you the book. He dug his head into your shoulder, getting clingier out of embarrassment. You paid no attention to him, only having eyes for the much smaller and just-as-adorable baby version of him in the photos.

“Y/n, can’t you do this later?” He whined, clinging to your shirt as if he could possibly change how you spent the next hour.

“Nope— Oh my God! You’re so cute!” You squealed this time, eager to hold the page open for Seunghan to also see the photo. The date tells you he was around 2 at the time, playing with toy dinosaurs in an adorable fuzzy onesie pyjama set. The sight was almost too precious for you to handle. Seunghan took a glance at it before hiding his face even more into your shoulder. 

“Stop looking at them.” He pleaded in a weak mumble, his voice almost completely muffled by your shirt. You giggled, reaching your hand up to stroke his hair, gently leading his head to lay in your lap.

“Just 5 more minutes. They’re too cute not to!” You bargained with him, flipping to the next page with a grin. He sighed and closed his eyes, resting the back of his hand over his forehead, trying to relax while simultaneously staying tense each time he hears you react to another photo.

“Some things never change, huh?” You commented, attentively looking at the next photo— 4 year old Seunghan holding a packet of jellies in his hand, smiling happily at the camera. “You’re so precious.” You gushed, your hands combing through his hair, messing it up slightly and causing him to groan and swat your hand away.

“It’s been 5 minutes.” Seunghan said as soon as the second passed, quickly snatching the photobook out of your hand. You frowned. You would have rather spent another 20 minutes looking through them, as you knew his mother had several other photobooks of the same sort. But, your boyfriend was stubborn. You let up for now, mentally reminding yourself to look through the rest of the photos later after dinner.

Seunghan placed the book back on the shelf with the others, glaring at you once you made eye contact with him. You cracked a smile at him and opened your arms.

“You haven’t changed at all, you know?” You reminded him as he settled back on the couch.

“I have! I’m much better now.” He pouted. He let you wrap your arms around him, but he didn’t hug you back, still putting up an annoyed front. He wasn’t really that mad at you, just incredibly embarrassed. There were all kinds of photos saved in those books— and even though he knew you were the one, it didn’t cut back on the humiliation. 

“I was going to see them sooner or later.” You persuaded him, kissing his cheek softly to try to cheer him up. It doesn’t quite work as well as you would hope, though it does get you a reciprocated hug back.

He was pouty for the rest of the evening, sending you glances all through dinner and post-dinner board games as his mother and older brother teased him to no end. You heard endless stories about his childhood, both funny and heartwarming. It wasn’t until you were getting ready for bed that Seunghan seemed more cheerful.

“When we visit your parents… I’ll get to look at your baby photos as well, right?” He asked while you were brushing your hair for bed. You looked up to the doorway of the guest room you’d be sleeping in, seeing Seunghan leaning against the doorframe. 

You laughed, “Why? You barely let me look at yours.”

He scoffed and walked closer to you, “I let you look at it for a long time!” 

“10 minutes is not a long time.” You corrected, “But, alright. I guess you can see my baby photos too. Why do you want to, though?”

“For the same reason you do, I guess. You’re just cute.” He said simply, smiling at you.

You were the one scoffing this time, turning your attention back to your hair, studiously ignoring your boyfriend as he gets even closer to you. He planted a kiss on your forehead silently before walking out of your room, mumbling a casual ‘goodnight’ and ‘sleep well’. You shook your head with a smile, fondness for him bubbling up in your stomach

At times, Seunghan was the most attractive boy you had ever seen. He had smooth pickup lines for days, and was sweet enough to melt anyone’s heart. But it was times like these that you liked a little more— when he showed his more vulnerable side. He got embarrassed and petty like any other person would, and you liked the reminder that you had that effect on him.

You were happy that Seunghan hadn’t noticed the stack of photo books sitting on the bed. Once you were sufficiently ready for sleep, you dipped under the covers and grabbed the first one you were looking at, flipping back to the pages you left off on. And a thought came into your brain as you scanned over the last photos— it wasn’t even a fair competition; Seunghan was objectively the cutest baby ever.

↳ riize taglist: @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,, @seolboba,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @cosmicwintr

[smoothielenny]

I’ll do it

Ao’nung x Omatikaya!Fem!Avatar!reader

Summary: You left the cleaning to Ao’nung and he accidentally discovered your secret box.

Warning: heavy smut, characters are aged up(Ao’nung-27, Y/n-26), sex in human body

Note: pretend you don’t need the mask and breathe the same air.

Last warning: Heavy Smut, Don’t read if you can’t handle it.

Few years since you moved to Awa’atlu helping out the Metkayina after the battle, you found yourself being annoyed by the Chief’s son. Constantly bickering towards each other whether your out of your avatar body or in your avatar body. Since it his first time seeing a human of course he won’t miss the chance to taunt you and apparently only you. Eventually you both grew feelings towards another and it did bother the Tsahik knowing her son has a liking to a demon, but as far as she have seen, you were the opposite of what she think humans are, kind , loving, and caring . Also a doctor, though she can’t teach you (mostly your human form) about healing as a tsahik—in human form, at least you know some thing about medicine. And she then approved both of you.

Now you both are mated before Eywa and leading the clan after Tonowari’s retirement. Both of you living your lives not leaving each others side unless if necessary. Being with Ao’nung when he receives his tattoo, being with him when hunting, picking ingredients for medicine, dates, flying with tsurak, etc. Both of you love each other’s company.

Lately both of were receiving some questions about when you both will have a child. Though you both are at age of having a children, you weren’t ready to have one yet. Ao’nung seem to be confident being a father, but he never forced you to have a child and he understands that it is your body and your choice.

“Ma’nung, I’ll bring my (avatar) body back at the lab. I’ll come back with my human body for the time being.” You said. You stand up from your place and remove your jewelry off you and placed them in a wooden box.

“Is there something wrong with your body?” He walk closely to checking every part of your body.

You giggled from his touches, “No, It’s just Norm will add something to this body, like an upgrade.” He was confuse, but didn’t ask further.

“Anyway m, I need some help on the cleaning. I haven’t finished some of it so will you finish them while I’m at the lab?” You asked. He nodded and gave you a peck on a cheek.

“Alright, but don’t take too long. You know I won’t last without you near me.” He said whispering the last pat as he give a kiss on both of my hands. You smiled and nodded then left.

He looked at your boxes full of random things and sighed. He first took out some books out of the box. Recently he’s been learning english so he could also talk to the people in the lab—though some already knows how to speak Na’vi, but it doesn’t hurt learning your language.

He opened the book which is full of information about forest plants and its benefits using it for human medicine. Seeing these makes your husband proud, having a wife that is dedicated when it comes to medicine even now, it makes him smile. He continued to open more books and he opens a photo album where you were still in Earth receiving your PhD. It made him giggle seeing how different you look from before, glasses and all making you look like a nerd. He then placed the books on a new shelf that Ao’nung made which you requested.

It’s almost evening and finally done with cleaning your stuff. He plop himself on a hammock relaxing himself. He pout to himself, you still weren’t here and it made him feel lonely.

After a few seconds minutes he stand up. He plans to visit you in lab, he want to hold you now. He’s craving for your hugs and kisses. As he was about to leave he saw a small box laying beside the empty ones. He sighed to himself, he really thought he was done. He walked to it and open the box revealing a—

“Hey Ao’nung, I’m back—“ you saw him holding a vibrator on his hands.

“Oh, yawne. Welcome back. What is this—“ you quickly ran to him and grab the toy from him.

“Uh uhm, nothing. You don’t have to know about it.” You put the vibrator in the box.

“Why not? Is it that bad?” He tilted his head.

You you inhale and exhale slowly and slowly look at him, “it’s uhm a toy…for pleasure.” You whispered the last part. You look down not wanting to meet your husband’s eyes out of embarrassment. You should’ve have stowed it before Ao’nung sees it.

“Hmm…what kind of pleasure?” He asked. You could here that teasing tone from him. You bit your lips, cheeks warming up.

“S-sexual pleasure…” you look away and turn back. You heard him giggled. You could also feel him smirking at you. You felt his warm body getting close to you. He embraced you tightly and kiss your nape. His boy breath tingles your ear.

“How do you use it?” He whispered. Now your body is in full heat. Hearing his voice near your ear is enough to make you wet. He noticed that you weren’t moving at all so he placed you on a mat and pulled out another toy for you to play with.

“C’mon baby, show me.” He licks your ear making you shiver. The dildo he is holding us very tempting. Imagining him watching you while you use it somehow turns you on. You hesitantly grabbed it from him removing your clothes off. You rubbed the tip of the toy on your clit biting your lip from the small pleasure. Your mewls were ringing on Ao’nung’s ear. He couldn’t believe he is seeing his wife this lewd specially in your human form. You both rarely have sex when you’re in your human body and so seeing this was a treat to him.

After some few rubbing, you suddenly squirted from the pleasure. You dropped the toy beside you and relax your body on Ao’nung, “Damn baby, you came so fast from that?” He combed your hair with his fingers. You honestly comes easily and you just wanna end this embarrassing discovery that Ao’nung made. Well the favor wasn’t yours toningt.

“Hmm, what is this, (y/n).” He pulled out a leather leotard and a headband-bunny ears. You were really kinky. Seeing those items on Ao’nung’s hands you could die in embarrassment.

Before you came home, he saw another photo album. He wasn’t expecting his wife used to take a picture of herself naked. Even seeing pictures of you in a very kinky outfit—including the bunny outfit. Obviously he got hard seeing them and has a field day with it.

You refuse to see his face covering your whole frame with your hand. He could see how red you are right now. It was really a mistake leaving your things to him. All you could think is that you are a dumbass.

“It uhm… a bunny costume,” he was confused, “clothes.” You responded. He hummed.

“Will you wear it for me?” “Eh?”

•••

His sly smile made you blush. Seeing you in front of him wearing the lewdest thing, he could thank Eywa a million times. You haven’t worn the outfit for few years so obviously it was a bit tight and your curves are very visible. Though the zipper that uses to close couldn’t do it job from how much you got bigger.

“I think this is the only human invention I approve.” He fondles with your breast, bit your nape and licking it.

“Mmm…’Nung… too much.” You breathed heavily. His hands are big, it like he’s kneading a small dough. He starts rubbing your perky nipples biting his lips, it was tempting, he wants to suck it so bad.

“My baby bunny is adorable~” he cooed. Now that your nipples are red, he starts sucking them, licking, and biting. You covered your mouth refraining yourself to moan louder, but Ao’nung and caught them and cuffed your wrist which surprised you.

“H-how did you get—aah!.” He inserted one finger inside you and rub your g-spot. You kept moaning loudly tear and and drool are coming out because of pleasure. It’s been awhile when you received this type of pleasure from your husband because of your duties as a leader. Just with Ao’nung’s finger is enough to make you cum.

While distracted from the sensation, you felt a vibration inside you. You look down seeing Ao’nung on inserting a vibrating dildo inside you. Your voice became louder, tightening and loosening around the toy.

“Waah! Ma’nung, make it stop—mngh.” Your clit is already swollen from the toy’s vibration.

“But you look cute right now, I can’t miss this chance.” He licks your lips and kisses you. You melt from the kiss.

He finally took the toy off you. You sigh in relief, but then felt Ao’nung’s tongue licking your juices off you. He then unties his loincloth revealing a very hard dick pointing at your pussy. He teases your clit by rubbing his tip with it. You squirm around wanting his dick inside you, but nonetheless your husband didn’t give you want you wanted.

“Be patient, baby.” He put his shaft between your legs and starts thrusting slowly. You could see his dick going up and down from your thighs.

“Ahh~ Ma’nung, fuck me already!” You complained. His grin get wider seeing you so frustrated, oh how he loves to tease you.

“Alright alright baby girl.” He line up his tip to your entrance and slowly put it in. Since your in your human body, you could feel how large he is. With his big dick, he could easily reach your special spot.

You grip hard on his arms feeling euphoric from his movements. Your head is almost emptied only left with how much you feel good at this moment. Saying gibberish words, as your body feels warms from his dick. You kept moaning his name and telling him to be faster and rougher and he did as you said.

“Ao’nung! I’m close!” You yelled. He then went faster with his thrust sucking your nipples. Finally both of you released together. He pulled out his dick releasing the cum inside you.

“W-we should clean up.” You sat up, but you were stopped by Ao’nung pinning you down.

“Who said we’re done?” He gave you a playful smirk. You gulped from his words, it gonna be a long night.

[popopretty]

[Translation] Bungou Stray Dogs Projection Mapping (in collaboration with Kadokawa Culture Museum)

This is a projection mapping displayed on a huge bookshelf inside the Kadokawa Culture Museum. The projection lasts for about 5 minutes, with a short conversation between Dazai and Atsushi, of which the script was written by Asagiri Kafka specially for this collaboration. Videos and recordings are not allowed inside so I can only share some photos and the translation of the scripts here. Please note that it is based on what I heard and remembered so there might be some mistakes. Also the collaboration started from August 2022 so it might or might not relate to the recent events in the manga, it’s all up to your interpretation.

TRANSLATION AND IMAGES UNDER THE CUT

The projection starts with Atsushi climbing up the bookshelf and falling off it.

Atsushi: Oh no. I have to put them back!

Dazai: Huh? Are you sure it is here? The book that has an impact on Atsushi-kun?

Atsushi: Dazai-san? Yeah, I’m sure it’s a book from this shelf but… I can’t find it now.

Dazai: Without that book, we might not have won that battle against the enemies, right?

Atsushi: Yeah…

“In days gone by I never repented of my acts. I was sorry only for what I didn’t do.” Had it not been for the words from that book, I might have not been able to make the right decision. What is it called again…? I can only remember the title was like, something written by someone…

Dazai: Pft… In other words, you don’t remember anything.

Atsushi: Sorry… You came all the way here with me yet…

Dazai: Nah, if you cannot remember, maybe now’s not the right time to remember it. Books sometimes behave as if they are testing us, that’s why.

Atsushi: Testing us?

Dazai: Have you never experienced that? You happened to come accross a book you didn’t know nor have any interest in. Then you picked it up and what’s written in it stayed unforgotten in your heart till years later. That kind of experience.

Atsushi: Dazai-san, do you read too?

Dazai: Huh? You thought I didn’t? Without reading, there is no intellect. It’s the daily consumption of foods that makes our bodies. But it is the letters and words that builds our souls. When you stand here, you will understand what it means. Look around you.

Atsushi: You’re right. There is something very…

Dazai: Yes, remember this well. Books, at times, behave like intelligent life forms, beyond a mass of paper and ink… If Atsushi-kun hadn’t read that book, we would not have won that battle. We must not take books lightly. Because there are some switches that can only be pressed through reading a book, quietly hidden in the darkness we think we are in.

Atsushi: Ah, I see. That book I read… it would be exaggerating to call it a fated encounter, but I feel like there is an important meaning to it.

Dazai: That’s what I thought. Atsushi-kun, maybe there is a reason you have a special role in there as well.

Atsushi: What kind of reason?

Dazai: It will reveal itself sooner or later... Well, now that I have achieved my goal of showing off as a senior in front of my junior, guess I’ll go back and sleep (yawning)

Atsushi: You didn’t come here to help me search for the book at all, did you…

The projection ends with Trash Candy playing on the background and a very cool presentation of the characters' skills. It is such a shame that I can't share a full videos with everyone, but live photo is a lifesaver this time.

One last thing, even though the BSD collaboration will officially end today, the museum also does regular projection mapping on the same bookshelf and it is just equally cool so if you ever have chance to visit this museum, please give it a try. You will find a lot of BSD goods and related stuff around this area too <3

Thanks for reading till the end :3

[leclerced]

max and Oscar seem like the type of guys to have like an artist girlfriend. and if she painted or drew them?? They’d absolutely melt. they’d put it in their office or up in their bedroom or over the fireplace. wherever they put it, it’s definitely something they want others to see so they can show off how talented their girlfriend is!!

-

🩰

i could cry !!

girlfriend lives in a studio apartment and it’s just art supplies everywhere. she has a bed and a large desk, the bed is the only surface not covered in art supplies, the desk has stacks of sketch books, pallets, brushes and jars of linseed oil and water. she has three barstools at the kitchen island and a tv mounted on the wall because she didn’t have space for a tv stand or a dining table and chairs. there’s a few easels with half finished paintings on them, and dozens of canvases in varying sizes around the apartment. she’s almost embarrassed the first time she invites them over, apologizing for the mess and lack of seating. she’d warned them ahead of time, that she lived in and worked out of her studio apartment so it would be wise not to wear anything expensive, lest they get paint on it. they think it’s endearing, how she tries to straighten up, organizing stacks of sketch books and jars of murky liquid before she gives up and says, “okay. this is it i guess. um, you can look at whatever just… be careful.”

she cooks them dinner to distract herself while they browse the canvases littering her apartment, they’re quiet at first, murmuring to themselves and each other about what they’re seeing. it makes her nervous that she can’t make out their words, she can hear the soft murmurs and if she turns around she can see their lips moving. there are a few pieces each of them point out and compliment, and it eases her worries a bit. once they look through a good portion, they retreat to the kitchenette to tell her how amazed they are with her. they don’t intend on spending so much time talking about it, but she finishes dinner while they go back and forth chattering about all the paintings they looked at and which were their favorites and why. she’s just a blushing mess trying to cook dinner in peace while they praise her.

she draws them all the time. when she’s alone she’ll lay in bed and sketch them over and over from memory or using her favorite photos as a reference. she’ll wake up before either of them and draw them with just the slivers of sunlight sneaking through the curtains as her guide. she has a few canvases that she started in the middle of the night after waking from a dream, surreal portraits of her boyfriends or their cars in action.

one day max asks to buy one of her paintings and she’s kind of surprised because why does he want to buy one?? she tells him he can just have one, to pick out whichever she wants, but he insists that he wants to pay for it. oscar asks if he can buy one too, and they have the same little argument. they’d both already have something picked out, likely from the first time they looked through them, and had been thinking about it for months. asking to buy one feels intimate so they waited until they felt it was appropriate to ask if she was selling them. it’s not like they’re displayed in a gallery, they’re works in her home that no one has really seen before. she’s surprised they want to display her art at all, considering neither of them have any other art hung in their homes, but they just wanna show off their incredible gfs talent !!

they’d have any of her art displayed proudly in their homes, but their favs might be the ones of their cars !! it’s not her usual subject, and neither are portraits, but she can’t help but recreate the things she loves in her art. they’d have canvases professionally framed, they’d buy frames for sketches and little things like that. if she makes sculptures or does pottery, they’d buy or have a custom made shelf to display her creations!! also she’d probably have sticky notes and stuff like that that she doodles on without even thinking and the boys always save them when they find them. they have a shoe box or something that’s full of little sketches on stray paper.

[thelarriefics]

STRANGERS TO LOVERS FIC REC, Part II: Below you will find more fics that have Harry and Louis barely knowing one another before intimacy. (Part I)

📖 Let Your Heart Be Light by @cyantific (77k)

Louis Tomlinson, a self-proclaimed holiday-hater, loses his job two weeks before Christmas. Broke and desperate to see his family back home in England, he takes the only job left at the mall as one of Santa’s helpers. Harry is an unconventional mall Santa, the youngest one they’ve had in years, but with as much holiday spirit as any other seasoned Saint Nick. He’s determined to un-Grinch the new guy in Santa’s Village if it takes until Christmas, then he finds out the devastating reason Louis has lost his Christmas cheer. Will Harry be just the thing Louis needs to help him get his sparkle back?

Featuring Liam as the manager at Santa's Village, Niall as an easy-going Irish elf and Harry's best friend, grumpy Grinch Louis and his best friend Zayn and one matchmaking Mrs. Claus.

📖 where the tide takes you, i will follow by @pinkcords (53k)

There’s no way around his departure, their inevitable fate. Harry will leave and he will return to London and when he sits in his new flat, wherever it might be, he will think of this summer and the warmth the sun brought him and the way it felt to be loved. He will compare all his future relationships to Louis and when they fall short, he will be disappointed. Harry knows this.

Or, Louis lives in Gloucester and Harry tries to find a way to stay.

📖 You're The Christmas Wonder, That Makes Me A Believer by @lousluv91 (44k)

There were two things that every person in Louis Tomlinson's life knew for sure.

First, he was a perfectionist. A hard-working person, a caretaker who took his responsibilities seriously and often appeared to be kind of intimidating. Though those he trusted also knew his very soft and loving side.

The other thing they all knew was that Louis hated Christmas.

or the one where Louis is a grinch and Harry teaches him to love Christmas. Maybe Louis falls in love with more than just the holidays.

📖 Purring In My Lap (The Kitty Fic) by @yoursolosong (40k)

Louis and Harry are two strangers who find an abandoned kitten at the same time and argue over who's going to keep it. Begrudgingly, they decide to co- parent because they're both stubborn and don't trust the other to take proper care of the kitty.

📖 now you're in my life (I can't get you off my mind) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (32k)

In reality, it’s a little different. Because as much as Harry loves the concept of dating, the reality sucks.

📖 Ding-Dong! Daybreak by @thinlinez (28k)

All it took was a flat bike tire, confusing usernames, pumpkin flavored biscuits, a chaotically supportive dog and food deliveries at daybreak for Omega Louis to fall hard.

📖 Sweet as Honey by @teamlouis2023 (21k)

Louis has always been shit at cooking. When he discovers Sweet as Honey on Instagram, owned by chef Harry Styles, he intends to mock him by recreating his recipes with his awful skills, posting photos on his own Instagram account, Nailed It. It's all fun until Harry asks to meet him.

📖 I Just Want To Start a Flame in your Heart by @peachbootylouis (21k)

Harry’s impending album release meant promo season was in full swing. While at an industry party with his manager, a harp player catches his eye and Harry is instantly bewitched.

📖 Checking Them Out?: How To Use Your Library Science Degree To Get an Alpha by @insightfulinsomniac (20k)

When a flirty, attractive alpha patron checks out an entire shelf of literature on omega behavior and omega rights, Harry can’t help but wonder why the man is so interested — is he a really attentive partner, or is he just a creep?

It doesn’t help that this alpha visits weekly to exchange his books… and that he smells absolutely divine.

Whether he likes it or not, Harry has a crush.

📖 lucky me, lucky you by @sun-lt (17k)

He wants to let Louis have that—have him, on his knees, easy and good and willing—badly.

📖 Be Mine? by @softfonds (11k)

Getting dumped the week before Valentine's Day wasn't in Harry's plans, and neither was being dragged to a concert to forget about it. But a sign Zayn brings manages to turn his night around in more ways than he hoped for.

📖 i need something, so tell me something new by @alwaysxlarrie (10k)

Louis goes on vacation to New York City to enjoy the good weather and good food - he even has a list of restaurants he wants to eat at. Much to his delight, his first restaurant stop includes a gorgeous curly boy and his nosy but supportive best friend. Maybe he'll get more than what he came here for.

📖 Wait by the Light of the Moon by @jaerie (5k)

Being a single parent of a newborn was not in Harry's plan. He can barely keep himself together doing everything on his own. He can't explain why he finds comfort in his neighbour next door, but apparently it's mutual.

📖 Get Nesting & Soft Knots by @pocketsunshineharry (5k)

AU where Omega Louis who runs a nesting materials Youtube channel meets Alpha Harry who knits his own blankets

📖 Perfect, For Now by @parmahamlarrie (4k)

Moving to a new city is always hard, being away from home, finding your new community - none of it is easy. Dealing with all of this while being touch deprived is even more difficult.

That is where omega Harry Styles finds himself a few months into his move to Brighton.

Then a mysterious alpha's scent enters his life, and he finds that he can't stay away.

📖 Unplant by @hellolovers13 (4k)

Louis should've looked where he was going, then he wouldn't have to desperately try to save a little flower now.

📖 She is Beauty, We are World Class by @exquisitelycloseted (3k)

A 70's London AU where Louis loses himself, and Harry finds him before he gets lost.

📖 Netflix Original by @allwaswell16 (1k)

Harry's hot neighbor overhears that he doesn't have Netflix.

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 3/58

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Dana reluctantly steps out of the passenger seat and follows her mother to the front door. Cal keeps his hands in his pockets, bobbing his head at her with a pained smile. They all stand there awkwardly for a beat until Maggie pushes the front door open and steps past the threshold, looking over her shoulder at Dana expectantly.

Dana steps into the foyer and looks around. There’s a staircase immediately in front of her with a hallway running adjacent. To her left is a living room, to her right a dining room. The floors are all hardwood, the walls bordered with crown molding and chair rails. It’s a nice house, one she might have dreamed about living in one day when she was a young woman just setting out in her career. She spots a stuffed elephant at the foot of the stairs and she picks it up, a flush of fear washing through her as she recalls the children.

“The kids are at the neighbors’,” Cal says suddenly, and she turns to see him standing near the front door. “I thought maybe it would be easier for you if they weren’t here right when you got home.” His expression is empathetic but also wounded, and his jaw twitches jerkily to one side like it did at the hospital this morning. One of his shoulders lifts spasmodically and his head tilts toward it, and she looks away.

“Why don’t you give her a tour, Cal?” Maggie suggests, and she can feel them exchanging meaningful looks behind her.

“Good idea, Maggie,” Cal acquiesces, and walks slowly into the room to their left. “This is the formal sitting room,” he says, gesturing around. There’s a small sofa across from an armchair, and a shelf loaded with books. “We don’t really spend much time in here.” He looks at her, clearly expecting some kind of response or recognition, but she feels nothing. He leads her through a set of French doors at the back of the room into another living room. “This is the family room. This is where we usually watch TV or whatever after the kids are in bed.”

She realizes that the we in his statement means the two of them: Dana and Cal. The married couple, working parents of two young children. She looks at the sectional couch and the TV mounted to the wall above the fireplace and tries to imagine them there, curled up with glasses of wine and network TV. She just can’t see it. On the wall beside the fireplace there’s a large family photo mounted in an ornate frame. She glances at it, but she can feel Cal watching her so she looks away.

The back wall of the house is covered in windows, and she can see a generous deck and well maintained yard. At the other end of the great room is a well-appointed kitchen with granite countertops and an island. She walks across the room and runs her palm over the cool stone, wondering how many times she’s prepared dinner here, or baked birthday cakes.

“That hallway leads back to the front door,” Cal says, pointing to a hall between the living and kitchen areas. “And this one over here leads to the dining room. The garage is just through here,” he says with a thumb hitched toward a door near the pantry. She meets his eye briefly and his melancholy tugs at her heart. She feels as though she’s stolen something from him, but she doesn’t know how to give it back. His jaw jerks and his shoulder jumps, and her doctor’s mind begins to wonder. He must see it on her face, because he looks down and sighs heavily. “I have Tourette’s,” he supplies, his tone defeated. “My tics get worse when I’m stressed.”

“Oh,” she answers, stopping short of adding a platitude. She realizes that this is information she should already have, that this is a disclosure he’s made to her already, years ago. She realizes that he went to bed a few days ago with a wife who loved and accepted him exactly as he is, and now has a stranger in his wife’s body standing in his kitchen gawking at his tics. “You have a beautiful home,” she says, trying to break the tension, and Cal lifts his head and looks at her like she slapped him in the face.

“Let’s look upstairs, Dana,” Maggie says, and Dana turns to see her hovering near the hallway that Cal indicated leads to the front door. Dana steals a glance at him but his head is down, so she follows her mother back to the stairwell. “You fell in love with this house the moment you saw it,” Maggie explains as Dana trails behind her to the second floor. “Cal felt like it was too big of an investment, but you insisted.”

The stairs turn and then end at a large landing, and to the right there is an open space that runs along the front of the house. The floor is littered with toys and a dollhouse is pushed against the far wall, and she infers that this area serves as a play space for the children. Maggie stands at the top of the stairs and watches her as she picks up a naked Barbie and smooths its hair down, then sets it in the driver’s seat of a plastic sports car. Dana wanders past her mother to the hallway that runs along the other side of the stairwell. She starts at the furthest room to the left, which hosts a queen bed and neutral decor. A guest room, she assumes, not one occupied by anyone on a regular basis.

The next door opens to a child’s room with green walls and a lofted bed. The floor is a carpet of Hot Wheels, LEGO, and action figures, and wooden letters mounted between the two windows read “Peter.” There’s a poster near the closet of a brown-haired man beside a blue cartoon dog boasting “We just figured out Blue’s Clues because we’re really smart.” She quietly closes the door and moves to the next, which is a bathroom that looks to be shared by the children. The next door is a girl’s room, much neater than Peter’s. The four-poster bed is hung with a white lace canopy, and a fleet of neatly arranged stuffed animals sits atop the carefully made blankets. On a desk near the window there are several sheets of paper with a child’s messy scrawl attempting the same message over and over.

Deer Mommy, I mess you.

Deer Mommy, kum home soon.

Deer Mommy, do not forgit about Jessis birtday.

Dana’s chest feels tight and she walks away from the desk, back into the hallway where Maggie looks at her with a concerned wrinkle of her eyebrows. Dana pauses, taking several steadying breaths, and looks from the final door at the end of the hall back to her mother.

“That’s the master bedroom,” Maggie supplies, and Dana nods.

She steps through cautiously, feeling like an intruder. There’s a king size bed on a maple sleigh frame in the middle of the furthest wall, and a matching dresser opposite. She approaches the bed, picking up a framed photograph on one of the side tables and inspecting it with clinical detachment. In it, she and Cal stand on a beach, sun on their faces and wind pushing her hair around haphazardly. Cal’s arm is extended and the photo is close cropped, indicating they took it themselves. He is smiling broadly and her lips are pressed to his cheek, her eyes closed. She stares at the photo, begging her mind to call forth a memory, a feeling, a sense of recognition. She feels nothing.

She returns the picture and looks over the rest of the items on the table: an alarm clock, a Dean Koontz novel, a set of foam earplugs. She crosses to the other side table and finds a dog-eared copy of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, a bottle of lotion, chapstick, and a pair of reading glasses. While the items are not familiar, it seems clear that this is her side of the bed. She carefully pulls the drawer on the side table open, and almost slams it back closed before she realizes that these are her belongings. A half-used box of condoms, a bottle of KY jelly, and a small egg-shaped device attached to a remote that she has to assume is a vibrator, though it looks nothing like her most recent recollection of such a tool.

She wanders into the master bathroom and feels her first glimpse of a positive emotion when she sees a large soaking tub. There is also a stall shower, and a large walk in closet. She runs her hands over the fabric of her clothes, gathering it up and bringing it to her nose. She does the same with Cal’s clothes, hoping for some kind of spark. It’s all just stuff, neither offensive nor familiar. Just things in a room in a house in a town. Things that could belong to anyone, but somehow belong to her.

She makes her way back to where Maggie is still standing at the top of the stairs. Dana flashes her eyes only briefly at her mother, long enough to watch the hopeful look fall from her face.

“It’s okay, Dana,” Maggie says reassuringly, though Dana can hear the tightness in her throat. She feels like a disappointment, like a letdown. She wishes she knew when she might feel something other than lost.

They find Cal in the kitchen, hunkered down at the island scribbling on a legal pad. He stands when they enter the room, and Dana averts her eyes so she doesn’t have to watch Maggie confirm that no memories were called forth while they were upstairs. She still doesn’t remember. She still doesn’t know who she is.

“I wrote some things down for you,” Cal says hopefully, sliding the legal pad toward her. “Just some basics about me and the kids. Michelle said it might help you remember, or at least feel less confused.”

Dana pushes her mouth into a smile and glances at the paper. At the top it says:

Calvin Michael Rose DOB 05/29/62

Abigail Margaret Rose DOB 12/12/93

Peter Calvin Rose DOB 03/29/96

Beneath the three names, squeezed in as a clear afterthought:

Dana Katherine Rose DOB 2/23/64

“I do remember my own birthday,” she says softly, then looks at Cal and attempts a genuine smile. “So at least I’ve got that going for me.”

Cal hesitates, trying to read her, and then a relieved smile stretches across his face.

“Damn, I was hoping maybe I could get away with forgetting it next year,” he quips half-heartedly, and something that feels a little bit like hope stirs in her chest.

There’s a screech from outside and Dana’s eyes widen.

“That’s the kids,” Maggie says with thinly veiled panic as she hurries to the front door.

Dana stays put, her heart leaping into her throat. Cal gives her a long look and then follows Maggie down the hallway, and Dana listens as they greet the children.

“Grammie!”

“Abby girl, did you grow again since I saw you last? I specifically told you to stop that!”

“I can’t stop growing, Grammie, that’s unpossible.”

“Grammie, I growed a million feet last night!”

“Oh my goodness, you’re right, Pete! How will you fit in your bed?”

A long pause.

“Grammie’s joking, bud, you’ll still fit in your bed.”

“Is Mommy home?”

Another long pause.

“Yes, she is, would you like to say hi?”

“Does she remember me?”

“You know what, kiddo, her brain is still working really hard to remember everything.”

“Mommy doesn’t know us?”

“Of course she knows you, Abby. Her heart knows you, okay? Her brain is just still a little confused from getting bumped on the head.”

The quick tramp of feet skitter down the hall, and Dana braces herself.

“Whoa, Pete, hold on—”

“Mommy, I finded a rock what looks like a dinosaur egg!”

A small boy comes flying into the room, looking around and then making a determined beeline toward her with an outstretched hand. He has dark features and big, protruding ears. She immediately notes how much he looks like Cal, though she’s unsettled by the familiar set of his mouth—one she’s seen in the mirror on many occasions. He steps right up close and holds out a smooth white rock that is speckled with black spots.

“It’s a egg from a T-Rex, Mommy! I finded it in Eric’s yard!” he says proudly, grabbing onto her arm for leverage as he pushes up on his tiptoes to get the rock as close to her face as possible.

“Wow,” she stammers, accepting the proffered rock and examining it. “This is really cool, Pete.”

She looks up and sees Cal and a young girl standing in the doorway of the kitchen. The girl is half-hidden behind Cal’s body, her cheek pressed against his hip. She has long, reddish-brown hair and a fair complexion, and her mouth is twisted into a suspicious scowl.

“Hi, Abby,” she says gently, her heart aching with the knowledge that a known and loved mother has been swapped with a changeling, that being herself. Whatever her own struggle to find her place in this life, she cannot allow these children to lose their parent.

Abby moves further behind Cal, only one of her eyes peeking out around his body. Cal reaches behind his back and tries to encourage her out, pivoting to make himself less useful as a barrier.

“Come on, honey, it’s okay,” he gently coaxes her.

“It’s okay, Cal, don’t force her,” Dana insists, and Cal drops his arms in resignation as Abby presses her face into his lower back and wraps her arms around his hips.

“Mommy, do you know me?” Pete asks, his face screwed up into a comically emphatic expression of doubt.

Dana crouches down so that she is eye level with the child and searches his face. He’s a cute kid: long, dark eyelashes, little chiclet teeth, a button of a nose. She has the distinct impression that she has never before seen him until this moment.

“Of course, you’re Pete!” she says brightly, and the child’s mouth springs into a wide, gummy smile.

“I knowed it!” he declares triumphantly, turning to address his sister. “Mommy knows us, Abby!” he tells her, but the elder child only tightens her grip on her father.

Dana stands and meets Cal’s eye, and he blinks at her somberly as he understands that she is just placating the children.

“Who wants pizza?” he asks with energy in his voice that does not translate to his body.

“Me! I do!” the children squeal, Abby emerging from behind her father to jump up and down with one arm raised.

“Sounds great,” Dana says, though she doubts that she has any room for pizza beside the rock that currently sits heavy in her gut.

-

“I’m only forty minutes away, Dana,” Maggie says as she lowers herself into the driver’s seat of her car.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” Dana asks hopefully, glancing over her shoulder to the house—her house.

“I’ll end up stuck in rush hour traffic if I wait much longer,” Maggie explains.

“Oh…okay,” Dana says, taking one step back so Maggie has room to close the door.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” Maggie reassures her, and a sudden onslaught of tears thickens Dana’s throat. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

Dana looks at the ground and nods, feeling like a fearful child.

She watches from the driveway until her mother’s car disappears around the corner and out of sight, and then slowly makes her way back into the house. She hears chatter from the kitchen as soon as she steps through the door, and she pauses to listen for a moment.

“Look how long my cheese can stretch,” Abby says with a full mouth.

“Very impressive,” Cal replies.

“What’s that, Daddy?” Pete asks.

“It’s a mushroom, bud.”

“Blech! That’s a-scusting!” Pete shouts dramatically.

“That just means more for me,” Cal retorts, following it with a series of yummy noises as Pete laughs heartily.

Dana makes her way down the hall, standing uncomfortably at one end of the island and surveying the scene. One box of cheese pizza lies open, and another with an assortment of meats and vegetables that doesn’t look especially appetizing. Cal is seated between the two children, and there is an open seat beside Abby that is presumably meant to be hers.

“Sit down,” Cal suggests with a nod toward the open chair. “I got half with no sausage for you.”

Dana takes a plate and selects a slice of pizza sans sausage, then moves carefully toward the seat beside Abby. Abby glances at Cal and he nods softly in reassurance. Dana takes a small bite, pushing it around in her mouth.

“How was your day today, Abby?” she asks, and Abby looks at her like she has three heads.

“Abby had soccer today, right?” Cal prompts her, and Abby stares at her plate.

“I can throw a ball really, really far!” Pete interjects.

“I’d love to see that,” Dana tells him, and the four-year-old beams.

“You’ve already seen him do it a hundred million times,” Abby grumbles.

“Abigail,” Cal warns her sternly.

“It’s okay,” Dana says quietly, giving him a pleading look over Abby’s head.

They finish their meal amiably, with Pete happily taking the spotlight and filling any gaps in conversation. Dana offers to clean the kitchen while Cal takes the children upstairs to get ready for bed, then spends the better part of fifteen minutes trying to find the recycling before she concludes that they must not recycle. Finally, she pads up the stairs and follows the sounds of voices to the half-open door of Abby’s room.

“It’s okay, honey, Mommy just needs some time for her brain to feel better,” Cal says gently, and there is a wet sniff.

“She doesn’t even know who I am, Daddy,” the little girl whines, and Dana’s heart clutches. “She keeps calling me Abby.”

“That’s your name!” Pete points out, and Cal shushes him.

“I know it is, bud, but Mommy always calls Abby her special name, remember?”

“She calls me Peter Peter Punkin Eater,” Pete says sadly.

“Only sometimes, Pete.”

“What if she never, ever remembers us?” Abby asks pleadingly, and there is a long pause.

“I think she will, honey. I don’t know how long it will take, but I know Mommy loves you so much, she could never forget you.”

Another wet sniff and a shuddering inhale.

“Can you read Animal Daddies and My Daddy?” Abby asks.

Dana waits in the formal sitting room until she hears a heavy sigh and Cal’s footsteps on the stairs. She stands abruptly and he startles, then rubs one hand over his face.

“They’re asleep,” he says, and she recognizes the domestic familiarity of the exchange.

“Cal, I’m sorry—” she starts, and he holds up his hand.

“Don’t do that, Dana. It’s not your fault. They’ll be okay, kids are resilient. And I can see—I know you’re trying.” She nods in agreement, and he gives her a long look. “I’m exhausted, I’m just going to grab a few things from our room and I’ll take the guest bed.”

Our room.

“No, please, I hate to kick you out of your own bedroom,” she says, though she is immediately relieved that he hadn’t been expecting to share a bed with her tonight.

Cal stares at her, and she senses that he is debating whether to say what he’s thinking.

“It’s your room too, Dana,” he points out with pain in his voice.

Dana closes her eyes briefly, wondering if she will stop stepping on landmines anytime soon.

“I know, sorry. I’d just feel more comfortable if I take the guest room, if that’s okay,” she tries.

“Sure,” he aquiesces with a sigh. “Why don’t you go up and grab whatever you need? You can use the kid’s bathroom if you want. Whatever feels…best.”

She slips past him up the stairs and rifles through her own belongings in search of what she needs. Thirty minutes later, she pulls back the covers on the guest bed and tries to get comfortable. She feels wrung out and overtired, but her brain keeps buzzing and buzzing, searching for something to hold on to. Something real.

_

Her hands move through hot, soapy water that nearly reaches her elbows. She feels around for something to wash, green countertops bordering her visual field. She’s comfortable, safe, a little bit excited. She feels like this is a place she’s supposed to be. Music pipes in from somewhere nearby and her hips sway along. Suddenly, someone is right behind her, touching her. Hands slide down her arms and beneath the water, fingers intertwining with hers. She steps back, and begins to turn to face the figure—

“Mommy, I finded the clue!”

Dana sits up with a gasp, her heart pounding in her throat. She scans the room, disoriented. Where is she?

“Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper didn’t find the clue before me!”

She looks to her right and sees Pete, clad in Superman jammies, clutching a stuffed blue dog to his side.

“Hey, Pete,” she croaks, her heart slowing as she places herself. “You found a clue?”

Pete scrambles up onto the bed and climbs under the blankets beside her.

“Yep, I finded the paw print what Blue left and they didn’t even see it. I figured out Blue’s clue cause I’m really really smart,” Pete explains proudly.

Dana looks down at him, tucked comfortably against her side. While she doesn’t remember him per se, she does feel a maternal tug towards his impish disposition and how readily he’s accepted her. She wraps one arm around his shoulder and gives him a half-hug.

“That’s really cool, Pete. Great job,” she says fondly.

“I’m gonna go see the rest,” Pete says, and just as quickly as he arrived, he disappears from the room.

Dana flops back onto the bed and stares at the ceiling. Her dream is already slipping away, and she tries to cling to the details. She was washing dishes, maybe. Someone else was there. It feels like a memory, but she can’t access the rest of it.

He. He was there. Him. She doesn’t know it by any factual measure, but she knows it in her heart. Where is he? Who is he? She wants to find out so badly it hurts.

Tagging @today-in-fic

[demxters]

— 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞!𝐛𝐨𝐛 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

warning(s): none!

a/n: i cannot get this man off my mind. was missing my fav bookstore boy, so enjoy!! and catch up with bookstore!bob and y/n here <3

(gif credit @lewispullmaned )

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

your first date with bob was a hit

on his free day he built up the courage (with a little push from natasha) to call your number

it was the most awkward phone call of his life, but you were so sweet that he was able to bring himself to ask you out

a year later, you and bob are lying on the beach celebrating your anniversary with books and a picnic

except bob isn’t really reading, he’s too busy admiring you with his head in your lap

and you notice

“bobby, read your book”

“i can’t concentrate with your beautiful face looking down at me like that”

despite his shy nature, bob’s the sweet talker of the relationship

what he has a hard time showing with his actions, he shows with his words

like when he finished ‘the notebook’ he wrote down all his thoughts on an old napkin he found in his flight suit

you now have that napkin stashed safely in the photo album under your bed

or he’ll give you a bouquet of flowers with a quote from the books he has read that reminds him of you

you learn early on in your relationship that bob is big on communication (it comes naturally with being a WSO)

so the first time you guys get into a fight you can imagine how hurt he is when you give him the silent treatment

when bob finished with training early he has dinner with the squad before coming by your shop

he keeps you company till closing because he worries about you working alone at night

on the days he can’t stop by he makes you promise you’ll text him when you leave work and when you get home

bob has his own little shelf of book recommendations in your store

he didn’t notice that you had started setting up his books on display until you ask him to switch out the books

bob swears he tears up a little at that

he’s also a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to relationships

not in an obnoxious way but in the way that if things don’t go right he’s afraid you’ll leave him kind of way

poor baby gets so insecure the first time he sees you with the squad

you get along so well with everyone, that he worried you’ll realize one of the other pilots are better for you

after that night you make it your mission to make sure bob knows he’s loved and appreciated by you

i’m gonna say it bob is a tits man

he loves resting his head on your chest and using your boobs as a pillow

he loves lying on your chest as he holds up a book for you to read out loud

overall, bob is just the sweetest and most considerate guy you’ve ever dated

sometimes your relationship with him feels so unreal that you think you’ve dreamt him up and brought him to life somehow

but bob’s always there to assure you that he is very, very real

ok i’m gonna stop now bc i’m close to crying

i want a bob

[szallejhscorner]

La Maison du Chocolat

No matter how different books are, they always cause the very same feeling. Their smell, the sound of rustling pages, the weight in your hands – it is familiar and welcoming, inviting you to escape this noisy, confusing world outside. You can allow someone else to take you on an adventure with them, be it something exciting or dangerous or romantic. All you have to do is stick to the protagonist and watch how things unfold, with no need to make any moves or decisions yourself.

And most importantly: those protagonists don’t scold you for placing the book down mid-sentence, during a huge fight, not finishing an important business. They won’t be mad at you if you pick up another book instead, forgetting about the first one for weeks until you find it again in the pile of promising stories on your nightstand.

Book stores are a wonderful place as well, because it is completely valid here to skip pages and read a couple of sentences until you move on to another book that looks as if it contains a good story, or to simply watch the covers and admire the art on them. It is usually quite silent since people are minding their own business and if they talk, it’s mostly a low murmur, with no loud shouts or music distracting you.

This time, only the sound of your phone brings you back to reality, causing you to close the book you’re currently holding and drop it onto the table next to you.

The image on the screen shows a certain blonde, and just like always, you try not to get lost in the dark eyes of his. You would have stared at them for hours, completely ignoring the jingle, if it wasn’t for an elderly lady throwing dark glances at you because your phone keeps interrupting the silence.

“Oh, hi?” you eventually whisper, taking the call.

Chishiya sighs on the other side of the line. “Care to tell me what happened to the living room?”

“The living-?” It’s typical for Chishiya to skip any kind of formalities and go straight for the important part, but it also confuses you for a moment because you take a while to understand. And once you do, you swallow down the urge to hit your face against the book shelf closest to you.

“Ohhh…” you answer, trying to explain, “I-… You see, I wanted to clean the living room. See if I could tidy out some things. And when I got to the big cabinet, I found all the old photo albums that we never fully organized.”

You can imagine Chishiya standing there, between dozens of opened albums and at least a hundred photos flying around loosely because they have never been stuck in correctly.

The blonde snorts, not at all convinced by your story. “Well, if you intended to organize them, you failed.”

“I… I wasn’t finished yet! You see, the piles do have a meaning. Childhood photos from you, childhood photos from me, vacations, everything’s sorted. But neither did we have enough albums to put them in correctly, nor was there any tape left.”

“So you went for some tape shopping.”

You look around the store, shrugging sheepishly although Chishiya can’t see it. “Yeah… no. I wanted to go to Marunouchi, but there was this little book store on the way to the Metro station...” The shopping mall isn’t exactly close to your home, and all these books almost shouted at you to stop here, looking much more inviting than something several blocks away. “Did you know they already have the newest release of that one manga you used to read?”

It must sound weird to Chishiya. You messed up the entire flat because you completely got lost in skimming through old memories, and now you’re admiring book covers and beautiful protagonist names, having entirely forgotten about the albums. But the truth is that the photos were interesting as long as you sat there, surrounded by them, and now that they’re out of sight, they have been replaced by fantasy novels and mangas and whatnot.

Through the phone, you can hear the rustling of paper, as if Chishiya is tidying up the piles so he can at least halfway move through the living room. “I’m not reading much lately”, he mutters, “but are you still going to get that tape? Or can I put this mess back into the shelf where it belongs?”

What a shame it’d be if all the work you already put into organizing the photos was for nothing. It took at least two hours to inspect all the photos and find a good way to sort them, and if Chishiya put them back now, you would have to start all over again.

On the other side, the shop is still quite the distance to walk, and it’s getting late… You don’t know if you could still find the motivation to finish this today. “Maybe I can do it tomorrow”, you propose, knowing full well that it might take months to find the needed motivation for this again.

Chishiya knows that, you can hear it in his sigh. “Marunouchi, you say? Might be worth going there now and stopping at La Maison du Chocolat. As far as I know, they’re closed tomorrow.”

You inhale sharply. That’s the chocolatiere selling the best macarons and pralines all throughout Tokyo, and they also have a splendid choice of pastries. A bit more expensive than what you can buy in any normal grocery, but the taste is so worth it! They close early in the evening, but if you hurry, you can still make it in time.

“Bring some crispy pralines”, Chishiya requests. “Oh, and- “ he’s calling your name just as you want to hang up the phone, “- don’t forget your albums and tapes.”

With the image of mouth-watering confectioneries in your mind, you quickly put away the books you had been looking at, still being glared at by the old lady who obviously doesn’t approve of phone calls. As if you had been in a library!

You leave the book store and head to Marunouchi district. Yuurakuchou station is only a few stops from the closest subway entrance, and the train isn’t as crowded as you feared it would be. Sure, there’s no seat left during rush hour, but at least you’re not pressed against some sweaty, smoke-covered stranger this time. Public transport is a blessing until you meet the most disheveled residents of Tokyo, although none of them seem to be in your train now. Instead you notice a woman having a conversation with a friend, and while you don’t get most of what they’re talking about, her voice is so calm and soothing that you could have listened to it for hours. You wonder if she knows about that, if she works as something that requires usage of her voice or if she isn’t aware at all. It’s so mesmerizing that you would have almost missed your stop, and you rush out of the train just before the doors close again.

From Yuurakuchou, it is just a few minutes walk until you reach the chocolatiere. A chocolate-colored front greets you, and the smell inside is so sweet that it feels as if you’ve already eaten a ton of sweets only by breathing in. Wonderful.

An entire wonderland of macarons, éclairs, mousse cakes, pralines, truffles and so much more greets you. Heart-shaped gift boxes filled with the most soul-warming treats, and dark chocolate as well as nut mixes or ones containing alcohol. They even have fruit bars for those who don’t want the rich chocolate taste, but today, you’re here for the full experience.

The nearing closing time is a reminder for you not to get lost in between all the stuff, and you make sure to grab Chishiya’s crispy pralines and the pastries you love so much before anyone can throw you out the store. You can’t leave without buying a handful of other things though, because they look so promising that you have to try them. It will be a blast to eat them together with Chishiya on the sofa tonight.

Hands full of sweets and one bonbon already in your mouth, you make your way back to the subway station when your phone beeps, indicating a message has come from your blonde.

You switch all bags to one hand so the other can take out the phone, and you laugh out loud when you read the words on the screen.

‘Albums and tape. Don’t forget.’

Chishiya knows you so well, it’s almost scary. The pastries have been your motivation to actually go to Marunouchi, and now you would have almost left without the things you intended to buy in the first place.

Still laughing, you turn on your heels and search for the shopping mall that sells the photo tape and the albums. How embarrassing it’d be to get home without them and being mocked by Chishiya. But he’s already fully aware; otherwise he wouldn’t have sent you a reminder with perfect timing.

Oh, how good it is to have a boyfriend like Chishiya Shuntarou.

[moose-a-licious]

Mount Shasta- April 2022

“DJ(JD?) was hung today. He was a good boy.”

The first time I read that line was on the first trip I brought Erin up to spend time alone with my grandparents. On the bottom shelf of the bedside table in the room we slept in, that’s where the book was.

That’s my grandma’s aunt’s journal she kept on their homestead. Both my grandma and grandpa grew up there. I can’t remember if his name was DJ or JD -I should have written it down- he was my grandma’s cousin. Johnson was his last name, that is my grandmother’s maiden name too.

It was the books we bought on this trip together that I think helped me solve who he was.

It was another fire that brought us to where we live today. A literal fire. The 2021 Greenwood fire. The lake we live on now is a seaport, the lodge needed people to help feed the firefighters they were housing. They were still open and operating as well. I served in the restaurant, we saved up enough to take our first vacation alone together.

I wanted to see the ocean. I’ve never seen it before. We were going on a road trip to California. First stop would be Omaha to see family, and Jimmy/his girlfriend. We rented a car and drove the first 13 hours.

This squirrel didn’t want Erin’s trash in the can.

In Iowa we drove next to a tornado. The winds at the rest stop were so strong they tore the flag.

We spent the night at Jimmy’s and his now fiancé’s place our first night. Jimmy constantly brings up how embarrassed he is of their dog, Lemon, and how she treated me when we finally met in person for the first time. Just stared at me and made grumbling chirps. Single barked, and left uninterested. Sour. She warmed up, you just have to be patient.

The four of us shared food, went to the zoo, then parted ways. Erin and I went to my parent’s house. My brother and his wife came too. We all looked together at some pictures my dad put on a flash drive for me to take with.

One of those was of the golden orb weaver that would visit us at our garden year after year, I was thrilled. Vibrating. I didn’t even ask him to do this, and it was one of the few “photos of a photo” that he put on that flash drive.

My dad taught me about leaving bread crumbs.

He loves symbolism. He also has to process and communicate differently than when I was a child, has for almost two decades now. There’s nothing wrong with that.

My dad taught me to catch grasshoppers, and give them to the orb weavers. The grasshoppers were eating our vegetables. It was such a rush pouncing on them, and fascinating to watch the orb weavers spin around and around.

Spiders spin their webs with intent. They are traps for fuel. Some people are scared of spiders, but they are good omens. Blood drinking insects, vegetation eating insects, things that steal from humans… all can fall into an orb weaver’s trap.

What was my dad telling me. Was he wanting me to become the orb weaver? Evolve and spin my dreams and webs to help people? Trap the bugs myself?

It doesn’t feel right.

Did he want me to find an orb weaver? Offer them grasshoppers that would in some weird way, help humanity? Protect the gardens.

My mom’s voice is warning me. The first nightmare I ever had was when I was around four or five. In real life, she caught me in the garden feeding the orb weavers. Panic and scolding.

“What are you doing?! Spiders are venomous, if you get bit you will die.”

She didn’t give me time to explain. Dad taught me how to identify an orb weaver versus a black widow by their bodies, legs, and webs. I knew what not to feed.

We went inside and washed my hands. That night I had my first nightmare, a giant tarantula the size of a t-rex was crushing all the trailers in the park. I was so afraid, when I woke up I felt silly though. Tarantulas can’t get that big, can they?

I have to find the right type of spider. I don’t know how to find my orb weavers, my dad’s mind changed before we could graduate from identifying spiders to people.

Pt. 1/6

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 1/17/23

this was written under some duress bc my cat refused the sacrificial animal cracker and wanted The Whole Box. no, these are mine, go eat your camel on the coffee table. i have always hated the "pet parent" stuff but mother DOES want a cocktail and some benzos, run along now

listening

peel me a grape, anita o'day's version. this popped up on a premade jazz standards spotify playlist

this is going to pop up on my spotify wrapped bc i am trying to memorize the lyrics, which include

Send out for scotch, boil me a crab Cut me a rose, make my tea with the petals Just hang around to pick up the tab Never out think me, just mink me Polar bear rug me, don't bug me New Thunderbird me, you heard me I'm getting hungry, peel me a grape

MWAH. love it. ideal.

-

reading

Dreamships by Melissa Scott. i don't like ragging on an alive, queer author, but this one did not grab me. let's talk about why!

the premise:

now, i'm not in the publishing industry. but maybe consider. if the jacket copy tells you "and this is the issue upon which the novel turns!" and then tells you the next two twists. maybe don't include that in the jacket copy. i have a bad habit of only reading the first half of jacket copy and didn't see this until i took these photos but i am retroactively annoyed on scott's behalf.

character work: i bought this bc i was very excited for a grouchy misanthropic lady pilot. reverdy jian isn't that. i still don’t know much about her from reading a third of the book. she is remarkably incurious and while this is an excellent trait if you are a freelancer or doing any sort of client work, it would have been nice to care about the protagonist of the book or feel like she has emotional or monetary stakes in taking/not taking this job.

pacing/structure: this book is like looking out over top of a layer of fog and i’m making it sound more exciting or appealing than it is. it’s very even in both pacing and emotion. the first hundred pages take places over about thirty six hours, bc there’s a rush pilot job, but it’s very laid back and relaxed. there’s no real sense of urgency or mystery, despite the author trying her hardest to set up a mystery about the almost complete lack of information about this ship. when the characters can’t find any info they just kind of shrug and move on. it’s also just a little obtuse, despite being very polished in all its tenses and word choices. i wonder if it maybe needed one more clarity pass. i had a lot of trouble figuring out who a whole extra character was bc there were too many men in one room.

where the pacing/structure/character work collide: this book reads like a travelogue, and i do not mean that as a compliment. again, we don't get much of reverdy's perspective--things simply happen to her or she sees things and just kind of absorbs them without much commentary. things happen one by one like beads on a string without really tying into a bigger picture of the city or her goals. the main premise (huge mostly underground city on a planet being stripmined) was not presented interestingly enough to make up for the lack of character work. for me. in my opinion. i'm not a writer (or at least not a serious/professional/one who puts a great deal of thought and planning into her writing)

i have a limited amount of time on this earth, i gave it a solid hundred pages, this does not earn a place on my shelf. back to the thrift store it goes. sorry ms scott i hope you're having a good day anyway

-

watching

still rewatching adventure time. s3 is full of solid bangers, i think this is the season i remember best bc it was one of the first Appointment Television things with my siblings the year we got cable. this is when they start drip-feeding you more of the stuff about the great mushroom war

i really really love when a post-post apoc setting thinks about the impact of a nuclear war on playground culture, like this hide and seek variant you see in s3e21:Marceline's Closet.

Over the mountain, the ominous cloud Coming to cover the land in a shroud Hide in a bushel, a basement, a cave But when cloud comes a-huntin No one's a save… no, safe!

how i found this: this show ran from 2010-2018, and was absolutely impossible to escape as a cultural juggernaut, especially during the peak le epic bacon style times when i was in high school. it also had a limited series in 2020-2021 and a spinoff is supposed to happen next year, which i am cautiously optimistic about.

-

playing

there will be light spoilers for the first two acts of wolfenstein the new order, a game that came out in 2014. i do not feel the need to rot13 early spoilers for an nine year old game.

despite enjoying the soundtrack for many years, i have never previously made into the castle in the first level of wolfenstein: the new order bc i always got bored and wandered off irl. i do want to get to a part (again not sure which one) where it will let me dual wield shotguns. why can't i find a second shotgun. i'm out of the asylum, they made me give the chainsaw back, and im about to murk some 1960s fascists at this checkpoint. one of these fuckers better have another shotgun.

blazkowicz is an enormous slab of unseasoned american beef. this man is SO large holy shit. i wish i cared about this big man. something about a dead female love interest? this nurse i kidnapped is going catch a bad case of the plot and be dead at the end of this level i think.

as previously mentioned this game was released in 2014 and boy does it look it, right down to the stupid macho gamer difficulty and exit screens. it's a pretty competent shooter. do wish ppl would stop shooting at me for five seconds so i can wander around and read all the propaganda and signage. why put it all up if you don't want me to look at it????

this was recently free on the epic store and the soundtrack came up on my walk today, which made me go "let me try this again". stay tuned.

-

making

made some quiche and fucked it up in a different way from last jan's quiche fuckup. still looking for hearty vegetarian soups, made some soup, which is very good but very texture. aash-e jow, a persian rice/bean/lentil/barley soup, is a soup you gotta chew. "kay isn't that a stew-" no. come to my house and eat this soup and i will show you.

other notable notes: doesn't really taste like much which could be continuing post-covid weirdness, and i think i should at minimum triple the amount of spices. fuck of a lot of prep. lot of chopping. hands hurty. called for a bunch of things i do not normally keep as pantry staples. i think it would be far easier to buy a block of frozen chopped spinach and refloof it in a saucepan like i did for the quiche, but i had some arugula/spinach mix that was about to go.

the caramelized onions really make this soup imo but i do not always have the fortitude to caramelize onions. i don't think this soup will stay an acceptable texture when frozen, so next weekend i have to make another giant batch of the red lentil soup to freeze for lunches.

you're correct i really don't want to do dishes

[flushedmusings]

————————— ୨•୧—————————

i realize now, in the years i’ve known you, i’ve never seen you cry.

not a tear past your eyes.

is it horrible to say i hope one day i will?

i just want to see the rest of your seasons. i love your sun, i praise it, but there’s more to life than that.

plants need water, just as people need to cry.

i worry about you. bottling it up, keeping the pressure inside.

one day when that explodes and there’s prices of me and you spread across the floor from impact, what happens?

will you let me help clean up?

i’ll be there, when you lock me out and leave me waiting. or when we’re in your car laughing and there’s nothing else in the world but us, and the lights reflecting across your windshield.

i’ll be there, when you leave, and it’s just me and your memory, lying in my bed, just a lump of wax with a bittersweet memory of our brief time together.

i know i’ll see you in class tomorrow, but i still feel this melancholy for a time in which your attention was on me. a time that’s never really existed.

everyone else you see, you seem to regard in this, blaring color, with this energy and excitement. and i’m just a black and white picture in the old photo album, in a box somewhere on the top shelf of your closet, pushed past your figurines and books.

and maybe i’m selfish, but when our friends are giggling and giddy about their lovers i can’t help but ache for that. a hollow feeling consumes me, this realization it will never be us. it will never be you saying “i love her more than anything”. and it will never be me on your family vacations.

i know, it’s not like that, i know you may not love anyone. but i can’t help the vomit that crawls up from my stomach. the little flame of jealous rage that eventually just fizzles out, leaving me a pile of smoke.

i know it’s not fair and i know it’s selfish, but what am i to do? there’s no spell that can just make me fall out of love with you, and time hasn’t been working, i’ve spent over a year yearning.

i hate to picture you ranting to a mutual friend of ours about how you know, and how uncomfortable it is for you. if i could stop the way i feel for you a would. i’m sorry.

i’m sorry for always reacting with some sort of quip. but i need to protect myself somehow.

i realize now how cruel i’ve been to you.

if i’ve ever gone too far, please know it’s the times when i find it especially hard to hide the red in my cheeks and steady the beat of my heart.

how can i lie with a straight face but not think about without a grin or tears?

how can i stand to fight these feelings?

when you protect them so gingerly, just holding my heart in the breast pocket of your flannel. keeping it there away from the truth.

i realize now now kind you are to me.

i realize now how often you’ve seen me cry.

and you, you calmed me down, that day you found out. something no one else has ever done. the tip of your thumb just fluttering across my hand, like a butterfly wing.

i’m sorry i can’t do that for you.

is it horrible to wish i could?

————————— ୨•୧—————————

ok, this made no coherent sense in terms of start to finish 😭😭 i may edit this later, or post a different version. idk!!! i just! cannot end poems!

anywhosies, thank you for tuning into this episode of girlfailure poetry™️

also if you know me irl and you know what i’m referring to in this poem, pls just, ignore that and enjoy ! 😁! let’s! move on ok? :3

-🍒

[fandomficsnstuff]

Witches and Wizards - 1

(Warnings: The twins being chaotic and angst)

Note: I once read parts of a fic where the reader has magic and goes back in time, meeting Merlin. I sadly can’t find it anymore. Also Fred didn’t die in this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know, you two should start paying me more, I’ve come up with half of your ideas already” she called out from the storage as she waved her wand, the box floating up and on top of a shelf as she walked back out. “What? We’re paying you!” George stated confused and Ophelia scoffed “yeah, 15 Galleons every hour for storage and cleaning after closing time, I’ve come up with loads of ideas for free” she pointed out, walking over to her bag and putting it on over her shoulder, looking through it to make sure she had everything, getting ready to leave for the day. Fred and George shared a quick look before Fred ran off to find something, coming back with a leather bound book, one of those rectangular picture ones and the second she opened it, a picture of her, Hermione, Harry, Ron and the twins, right outside the shop when it first opened, waving and smiling at the camera. “You made this??” she asked in shock, looking through it, each side having at least two pictures of different people, most of them were of Ophelia doing something ordinary or mundane, or even old pictures from school they had somehow managed to dig up. “You know, we’re quite capable on our own” Fred stated jokingly, Ophelia just rolling her eyes, noticing one she had thought was long gone. It was her, Harry and Sirius, the Christmas where Arthur Weasley was back from St. Mungo’s hospital. A single tear ran down from Ophelia’s blue eye, Fred and George both sharing a quick grin before looking back at her. “How did you get this?” she asked softly, George shrugging lightly “Harry managed to get it while they were in Grimmauld Place” George stated softly, watching Ophelia as she closed the book and held it tightly to her chest before putting the photo album in her bottomless bag, the twins grinning at her. “You two are both the most amazing and most insufferable idiots I’ve ever had the pleasure of working for” she stated with a chuckle before hugging them, the twins both smirking at her before Fred ran off somewhere. It wasn’t long before Fred arrived once more with something behind his back, pulling it out to show Ophelia a small, dark blue box, the outside almost shimmering like glitter but it was smooth, like silk. “What’s this?” Ophelia asked with intrigue, examining the box as Fred handed it to her with care. “Remember that time you said time travel would be a lot easier if you didn’t have to spin a tiny thing countless times?” George asked and she narrowed her eyes, searching her memories, shaking her head when she came up blank. “Figures, you’d been drinking Fire Whiskey again-”

“Please tell me you didn’t actually create a-”

“A box that takes you back in time to the exact spot you want!” George and Fred said at the same time, excitement clear on their faces as Ophelia felt nothing but dread. “Don’t you want to know how it works?” Fred asked like an eager little child, it almost made her laugh. Almost. “No, not really” she admitted with a shrug “wait, just try, alright?” Fred tried and Ophelia tried to give the box back to him “no, no I’m not your guinea pig! Not since the barfing sweets you gave me at Hogwarts” she reminded them with a frown, George scoffing as he waved his hand in the air as though that’d remove the memory of throwing up for hours and hours on end with no break while Moaning Myrtle kept babbling on about how handsome Harry was, relating him to all sorts of depressing things, and toilets. “You won’t be! We’ve already tried it” Fred announced eagerly and Ophelia groaned lightly as they both stood by her side, opening the box to reveal… nothing. It was empty, the inside so dark that she doubted she’d be able to see it if it was dark. “It’s empty-”

“Shh, just-... think of some place you really want to be, back in time, alright? We’ve already tried it ourselves” George announced once more and Ophelia cringed a little “did it work?” she asked, almost glancing up at them when George directed her head back to look into the empty, dark box. “Not important, try” he urged and she rolled her eyes, if it didn’t work on them, it wouldn’t work on her. She stared into the void of the box, thinking, just for the fun of it, that she’d love to meet Merlin, the great wizard, the most powerful one of all time. Going back to his time and meeting him would practically be a dream come true. She couldn’t wait to rub it in their faces later, the thought making her smirk. Her amusement was cut short as she felt herself falling, her eyes snapping open just as her back landed on a harsh surface, the wind knocked out of her lungs as the hard surface broke, leaving her to feel another harsh landing, her eyes shut tightly as she processed the pain as she rolled over, opening her eyes to see a table completely broken, which must have been what initially gave out under her before it collapsed on the floor. Ophelia slowly lifted her head to look around, the back of it throbbing as she moved to pull herself up and adjusted her bag so it wasn’t too much in the way, wincing at the soreness of her body but her attention shifted to the elderly man standing there in shock, two vials in his hands as he just stood there, mouth half open. Ophelia’s eyes went wide and she rushed to get up, looking around as panic flooded her “how on earth did you do that?! With magic?”

“NO! Not magic! No magic here! Nope! Magic isn’t real! M-Magic is just a fairy tale for children! Y-You’re hallucinating!” Ophelia babbled as she panicked, her eyes wide with fear as the elderly man slowly put his vials down on the nearby table, slowly approaching, Ophelia backing up with fear “you’re just dreaming!”

“I’m not dreaming-”

“Yes you are-”

“I think I’d be the one to determine that-”

“That is exactly what you’d say to yourself in a dream” Ophelia babbled, the elderly man narrowing his eyes at her even more “you appeared out of nowhere-”

“No, no I didn’t! I-... I’m sorry about this... Obliviate” she lowered her wand as she hurried down the hallway, looking over her shoulder, her neck turned when she collided with something solid, her eyes opening and she saw a handsome boy her own age, raven black hair and beautiful blue eyes. Ophelia took a large step back, looking down, missing the giant grin the guy gave her “I should have watched where I was going, I’m sorry. Have a nice day” she muttered as she hurried past him, unaware of his lingering gaze and smile “you too…” he murmured before hearing Arthur’s voice booming in the hallway, his grin gone as he rolled his eyes and walked down the hallway at a quick pace. The second Ophelia was out of the palace and onto the streets she walked and continued to walk, moving from cobblestone to dirt and mud, her eyes all over the place. In her attempt to get her bearings by looking around, she bumped into someone “I’m so sorry, I really should watch whe-”

“It’s alright” the boy muttered as he stared at her, Ophelia giving him a brief nod and smile, clutching the strap of her bag nervously and sighed “you uh… you wouldn’t happen to know the way out of this-... place, would you?”

“Just arrived myself, for the tournament, never seen Camelot myself-”

“Camelot?”

“Yeah- I mean ‘yes’, M’Lady’” he stated briefly, Ophelia unable to prevent the smile on her lips from growing, the boy continuing to almost admire her, Ophelia’s cheeks turning even darker “what’s your name?”

“Gilli” he stated briefly, Ophelia nodding with a small smile “Gilli. I’m Ophelia” she introduced, sticking her hand out to shake Gilli’s but he awkwardly gently took it to lean down and kiss it, Ophelia awkwardly retracting her hand, giving him a nervous smile “I uh… the whole ‘kissing hands’ thing is not really me” she admitted awkwardly, Gilli nodding nervously. “S-So are you here for the tournament?” he asked shyly, Ophelia shaking her head “uh, actually, I got lost” she admitted, Gilli giving her a soft smile “I can show you to the tournament” he offered, Ophelia giving an awkward smile “I uh, that’s sweet of you, but-”

“I’m participating so you could even stand in the training grounds and get a full view! I’d reckon there won’t be a lot of seats left open with good views!” Gilli said with excitement, Ophelia sighing but forcing a smile “sure” she murmured, nearly groaning when Gilli turned his back to her and walked ahead, Ophelia quickly catching up with a soft smile. “So, where’s your destination after the tournament?” Gilli asked casually after having checked into an inn, leaving his things there and walking back towards the castle Ophelia was trying to avoid, Ophelia reluctantly following. “Home. What about you?” she answered, Gilli looking briefly at her “same. Where do you live?”

“Uh-... you wouldn’t have heard of it” Ophelia stated with feigned shyness to mask how uncomfortable she was Gilli nodding, about to enter the castle when Ophelia stopped, clearing her throat “I uh, where’s the training grounds? I’ll just look a little and then head for the inn, and thank you again for getting me a room as well.”

“Are you sure?... With all the participants it might not be safe for a lady to go alone…” Ophelia smirked at his response, nodding “thank you, but I can defend myself” she stated with a wink before leaving, moving over to a guard, asking him for directions and accepting his offer to lead her there.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ophelia were biting her thumbnail as she watched Gilli stand and watch the current fights, a frown on her brows as she worried at least a small bit about the young boy, he didn’t look like any of the oafs that were also competing, he didn’t look like much of a fighter, but then again, neither did Harry at first, and he turned out to be braver than anyone else she had ever met. Her eyes moved back to the fighting pit just in time to see someone dressed as a knight simply punch a man who was trying his best to look as skilled as possible, a brief laugh escaping Ophelia, her hand covering her mouth with amusement at the simple act, the man laying on the ground instead of swinging his swords around like a child. She, however, flinched and winced as a knight’s head was cut off by some brute, her eyes shut and head turned away, her bottom lips in between her teeth and it took a few seconds before she looked up again, glancing at the decapitated body and cringing. “That better not be you” she murmured before glancing at Gilli and walking off, running a hand over her face as she moved away from the pit, sitting down on a bench with a huff. “Not a fan of fighting?” she stood up, nearly flinching, as she heard a voice, her eyes wide as she looked at the boy from before, the handsome guy with the cute ears and agonisingly beautiful blue eyes. “I-... uh, no. No, I’m not” Ophelia admitted with a frown, glancing in the direction of the tournament before clearing her throat awkwardly “I uh, I should go check on my-... friend... though. I-I don’t know when he’ll fight so-”

“Right yeah, of course. I’m going there myself right now” he stated with a smile that Ophelia nearly swooned at when she saw it, a shy smile on her lips as she nodded “alright” she murmured, walking towards the fighting ring with the handsome guy “so, what’s your name?”

“Ophelia… you?”

“Oh, I’m Merlin” he stated casually, Ophelia halting in her steps, eyes wide as she stared at him, his brows knitting together as he studied her “what? What’s wrong?-”

“You’re-... Merlin??”

“Yes. Why?”

“Nothing! I just-” Ophelia gulped subtly before forcing a smile “c-could you tell the boy named Gilli that I’m not feeling well? I-I’ll just take a-a walk and-... walk” Ophelia asked with stuttering words, tripping over her tongue and leaving before he could reply, hurrying away from the training grounds and the tournament, ending up in a secluded area by the walls, her eyes scanning the grounds before leaning against the wall, her eyes closing. Ophelia let out a heavy sigh, running a hand over her face in frustration before leaning her head back against the cold stone wall. “‘go ahead and try, Ophelia’, ‘it didn’t work on us, Ophelia’, ‘trust us, Ophelia, you’ll get to meet the great Merlin if it works’” Ophelia mocked with annoyance, hitting the wall in frustration and then wincing, biting her lower lip hard as she held her bruised hand, pacing back and forth. Groaning at the sight of her hand, knuckles scraped and red, wrist already swollen, she got out her wand, pointing it at her bruised hand and swollen wrist, “Ferula” bandages wrapped around her hand and wrist, Ophelia sighing as she put her wand away again to hide it and jogged back towards the training grounds, just in time to see Gilli walk out of the ring with a smirk. “I won” he announced, Ophelia nodding “knew you would!... I mean, I was like, pretty sure” Ophelia admitted, Gilli giving her a shy smile as he began to walk, Ophelia walking with him when suddenly, the elderly man she had cast Obliviate on walked up, with Merlin. “That was a fine victory” he announced, his eyes glancing at Ophelia with suspicion and her knuckles turned white from how hard she was clutching the shoulder strap of her bag. “Thank you.”

“That’ll need treating” the man stated, gesturing at Gilli’s arm and Ophelia frowned but stayed quiet. “That’s alright” Gilli stated with a nod, about to continue walking when Merlin jumped in. “Gaius is the court physician” he announced, Gilli placing a hand over his cut “it’s just a nick, I’m fine” he stated confidently, looking at Ophelia who nodded and began to walk away.

------------------------------------------------------------

Ophelia was walking through the castle, departing for the inn when someone caught her elbow and made her stop in the middle of the hallway, her eyes wide as she saw that it was him, blue eyes staring down at her with a frown on his brows. “Why’d you run away before?”

“I didn’t run! I told you, I felt like taking a walk so I took a bloody walk-”

“You ran after I told you my name-”

“I didn’t run!” Ophelia hissed before glancing around, sighing heavily “it’s-... you have the same name as someone I’ve heard about, alright? Now-”

“Who? I’m the only one I have ever met with the name ‘Merlin’!”

“Let me GO!” Ophelia ripped her elbow out of his grip at her last spoken word, staring up at Merlin with fear in her eyes. Not fear for him, but fear about something else, that’d he figure something out, which only made Merlin more determined. “Who was it then??” he asked but Ophelia was silent as she stared up at him, her hand slowly moving to her back pocket where her wand was hidden, her hand grasping the handle “please, it was just a misunderstanding” she whispered, hesitating before moving away, hurrying down the corridor, her hand no longer on her wand. She hurried to the inn and it wasn’t long before Gilli burst into the room and leaned against the door, frowning when he saw Ophelia in a frantic state. “Ophelia-”

“I’m sorry but I’m leaving. I came here to tell you that out of courtesy, now move away from the door” Ophelia hissed, about to walk towards him and the door when the bells began to ring, Ophelia frowning, moving over to the window and glancing outside “what in the name of Merl-... what’s going on outside?” Ophelia asked, turning to Gilli with a frown and she shook her head, moving past him and out the door. Ophelia met Merlin on the way out of the inn, nearly bumping into him again and to her surprise, he was smiling at her “this seems like the only way I can get to see you” he teased, Ophelia sighing “you’re not going to grab my elbow again, are you?”

“No, no I-.. I’m sorry about that I just-”

“It’s okay” Ophelia stated with a smile, trying to worm her way past him when she felt him grab her wrist instead of her elbow, Ophelia retracting her hand with a hiss, holding her bandaged wrist. “I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“It’s alright. It was nice to meet yo-”

“Can you at least tell me what is going on before you leave?” Merlin’s pleading made Ophelia’s entire demeanour soften, a sigh leaving her as she gave a soft nod, Merlin giving a brief smile “wait here, I’ll be back” he stated eagerly, Ophelia rolling her eyes and leaned against a wall as she waited. It didn’t take long for Merlin to return, a defeated look on his face and Ophelia frowned a little as he stood in front of her. “So…” he began, Ophelia nodding, beginning to walk outside, Merlin following her closely. “So…” Ophelia repeated, moving to a dark spot, standing in front of Merlin. “Alright, do you have magic?”

“What?”

“Do you have magic? And I’m not talking about silly muggle tricks, I’m talking about real, actual magic” Ophelia stated harshly yet with a hint of worry, Merlin studying her before nodding, Ophelia giving a sharp nod in return “show me, prove it” she demanded, Merlin looking around before lifting his hand and closing it, his eyes briefly glowing yellow and when he opened his hand a small flame burned in his palm, Ophelia’s eyes reflecting it’s light as she stared at it, unaware of the way Merlin looked at her, soft eyes as he took the opportunity to study her now that her features were lit up by the flame. He took in how skin glowed with the flame, her unique eyes, one blue and one green, reflecting the small flame, her almost white hair hanging by her shoulders in a loose sort of braid that hung off to the side, strands of hair having pulled themselves loose, the locks wavy and elegant. “You don’t even need a wand” she murmured quietly, her eyes moving up towards his and he quickly pretended to have been looking at the flame instead of her, one of his eyebrows raised in feigned innocence “what’s a wand?”

“‘What’s a’- Merlin’s beard” Ophelia whispered with almost awe, Merlin frowning with a small smile despite his confusion “my what?”

“I-I’m sorry, but-... you’re actually him…”

“Who?”

“Merlin! THE Merlin!!” Ophelia whispered with a grin, Merlin’s heart flipping when he saw the glee in her eyes, his palm closing and the flame vanished. “Oh my god you’re Merlin” she muttered as though something horrible had happened. “That man… Gaius. I erased his memory of me” Ophelia blurted out, expecting some form of punishment but Merlin just frowned “you can do that?”

“I-... yes, it’s a spell… you don’t-...?” Ophelia cut herself off, her eyes widening “bastards sent me further back than I thought” she murmured, looking off to the side before sighing “I’m so sorry, about how I’ve acted and treated you, sir. I-I didn’t know it was really-... you. You’re the greatest wizard to ever live but it seems I’ve gone back further than I thought, to-... before you were… famous” Ophelia muttered before straightening her back and looking Merlin directly in the eye “I’m sorry, sir” she stated firmly, Merlin smiling “you can call me Merlin, and I’m sure you had your reasons.”

“I did. And I’m sorry” Ophelia admitted sincerely, Merlin nodding “it’s alright, you can explain it to him, if you want” he offered, Ophelia nodding with a large grin “thank you” she stated softly as Merlin led her back to the castle.

[howgalling]

wb p3

NOW im going to get into the types of modifications in cyberpunk. im going to cheat with this though and use photo text of the lore book i have.

before that: this here is a list of the cyberware you as the player can access in game. you can see why i have so much fun giving the humanformers this shit. particularly stuff like gorilla arms, mantis blades, monowire and projectile launch systems. alright so to the copy paste: (I LOVE READING THIS TYPE OF STUFF I HOPE U DO TOO)

MOST COMPANIES OFFER A WIDE selection of off-the-shelf implants, pejoratively known as "shelfware.' Though often scorned by professionals who prefer to tune and modify their own stuff, those implants are reliable, widely available, and generally affordable. They function in modern culture like tattoos and cellphones did at the beginning of the twenty-first century: as a method of expression, a trendy addition to one's image, and a useful gadget-usually all in one. Basic cyberware is easy to obtain nowadays. Shops and cosmetic clinics install "lite" implants on the spot. You walk in off the street, make an appointment, sit through a quick procedure and some calibrations, and voilà: now you've got your very own cyberaudio implant. Other add-ons can be bought at the store and installed at home. More complicated cyberware needs to be installed in specialist clinics, but the whole procedure isn't more complicated than a visit to the dentist's office. Yes, they have to check that your medical condition won't cause any complications during the procedure, but they know that you can always install the same implant at a ripperdoc's place for about 60 percent of the price, so they usually aren't too strict. The most complex cybernetic and biological enhancements-like full-body conversions or organ and limb replacements-are only performed by specialists in branded clinics. Most people pick something from the Docs R Us catalog, but you can also choose one of the black clinics, depending on your preference, the state of your wallet, and your risk assessment. If you're feeling lucky and you want to have some ripperdoc from Kyrgyzstan remove your heart and replace it with cheap second- hand junk, go for it. Also, having your arm cut off to get yourself a cyber replacement isn't something that most people do on a daily basis. You have to be pretty fucked up or have a serious reason-like a loan to pay-to come to that decision. Things are different when you're rich though. Rich people do much weirder stuff just to show off. Removing or replacing an implant is almost always an option, but there are no refunds. Think twice before you make the decision to mod, especially with complex cyberware. If you can't afford to buy a new model, or you haven't kept your old lungs in the fridge, you may have serious problems-you know, with breathing and stuff. COMPATIBILITY: Modern implants all have similar technological foundations, because they need to be compatible with each user's nervous system. The interfaces are all industry standards, so there is no problem with compatibility between competing platforms from different manufacturers. You have an Arasaka-made learning processor but a chipware socket from Biodyne? No problem. Cyberware was created as an evolution of medical prostheses. At the beginning of the twenty-first century, implants were mainly used to replace missing or damaged limbs and organs. Artificial heart valves, extremities, vertebrae-they were all designed to save human lives or to allow the patient to function more normally after severe body trauma. The development of cyberware sped up after the First Central American War, when thousands of veterans came home injured. Technological progress and miniaturization allowed for "medical" cyberware to become more sophisti- cated and widespread, but it was still quite expensive and not very intuitive to use. The first prosthetic arm was a heavy mechanical contraption with a crude gripper instead of a hand and fingers. Today we refer to such cyber- ware as "Generation Zero." It is completely obsolete compared to modern technology. CYBERWARE REVOLUTION AND GENERATION ONE Postwar medical cyberware prosthesis development helped to speed up the miniaturization process. The first nonmedical implants to be designed and successfully tested were reinforced spines and joints for heavy labor workers and air filters grafted in upper respiratory tracts for those working in polluted environments. Still, the high rate of implant rejection remained the main obstacle for the further cybernetic enhancement of society. Cyberware found its way to the battlefields in the second decade of the twenty-first century. The Second Central American War and the Second and Third Corporate Wars were the crucibles that forged the first combat implants. Militech was first to seize the opportunity. Their enhanced cybersoldiers-with increased carrying capacity and direct connections to personal motion trackers and range finders-proved to be superior to their opponents in almost every way. Each sideEnterYou sentof those conflicts soon started to design and employ combat cyberware. Those wars started an arms race between the private armies of the megacorporations that continues to this day. That early combat and industrial cyberware is now referred to as "Generation One" or "Gen 1." Made of metal and plastic, they exceed the Generation Zero, but are inferior even to the old-fashioned Generation Two. Nowadays Gen 1 can only be seen on the black market, sold cheap to the poorest of people who can't afford better cyberware. GENERATION TWO AND THE ANTIREJECTION SOLUTION-IMPLANTS HIT THE STREETS As has often been the case in human history. war would play a pivotal role in the develop- ment of a new technology. The battlefield dust had not yet settled before the cybermedical market started booming. The same corpora- tons that participated in the Corporate Wars now saw an opportunity for profit, and expanded their lines to produce medical implants for veterans. Right after that they introduced cheap models for the industrial market, and the first models for the masses were designed simultaneously. The first cyber weapons appeared too, thanks to their still federally unregulated status. These events all coincided with the invention of antirejection treatment, the development of the new cultural style called "kitsch," and the boom of braindance technology. Society, weary from recent wars, wanted to party again, and to look like the heroes in the newest braindance productions. The age of cyberware had begun. Generation Two cyberimplants are the most common type of augmentation you will encounter on the street. They are functional and relatively cheap. Gen 1 pistons and hydraulics were replaced by artificial cybermuscles that allowed for greater actuation and strength. Then RealSkinn technology entered the market and immediately became a high-end status symbol The rise of the megacorporations also played a role in cyberware's continued technological development. The invention of Gen 3 cyberware was instigated by the corporate "cold wars” arms race. Every corporation wanted to have better equipped soldiers and enforcers to keep their competitors at bay and their own business secure. Lighter and more durable carbon fiber and ceramic poly- mers replaced heavy metal. Concealed subdermal armor and retractable weapons were designed for black ops and assassins Bullet, blade, and fireproof armored variants of RealSkinn were developed and are widely used today among corporate forces. This period also saw the invention of bioware-technology that uses biologicalEnterYou sentenhancements instead of cybernetics Skinweave armor, nanosurgeons, toxic binders, and synaptic upgrades became ever more popular. Though biomodified muscles and organs are not as powerful as their cyberware counterparts, they are immune to EMP attacks, are not detectable by regular scanners, and are less likely to cause cyberpsychosis. Individuals combining cyberware and bioware became some of the most dangerous corporate agents and special operatives. I wouldn't recommend buying any bioware from an unchecked source-unless you want an infection from some crazy, convict-tested nanobots that eventually attack your nervous system In the last thirty years, cyberware has become widely used in every aspect of life across all social strata-from the military, medicine, and manufacturing to family life, sex, and entertainment. Its development created legal and illegal business, from braindance and cyberfashion to the black market of Cyberlimbs and bioengineered organs. Humanity has been forever changed

[dream-meister-translations]

WOLF GAME

THE WOLF GAME - PART 7

━

Moving on from the book of the sheep and the wolf, the investigation uncovers a big clock in the same room. Matching masks hang free in a picture frame.

ME : They’re so creepy…

ME : Oh, what’s this?

He stumbles upon what seems to be scraps from a newspaper that piques his curiosity…

ME : There are a lot of notes here… Someone was meticulous in gathering this information.. Let's see the first page.

"Unraveling the Truth of a Notorious String of Disappearances in Criminal History”

Several decades ago, a series of disappearances went unresolved, men and women alike disappearing without a trace.

The number of victims is estimated to be in the dozens.

Several bodies were found at the alleged crime scenes.

However, the main suspect was never found and remains missing to this day.

This article aims to uncover the truth behind this mysterious case…

ME : Why would an article like this even be here?

ME : Is it related to this game...?

ME : There's so much I still don't understand...

ME : Seems there's more to read, too… I'll have to come back later…

He moves on, sweeping the room and finding manga on one of the shelves.

ME : “Do Your Best, Haru-chan”...?

ME : That sounds so heartwarming and cute… So what’s it doing here in such a grim place…?

ME : I don’t have time to read it right now... I'll come back later…

He also happens upon various books on medicine and law…

ME : So many books…

He takes note of another book, one with stars on the cover, to read later.

ME : A gas mask?

ME : To think they’d even have something like this here...

There’s also a shelf filled with a number of bottled chemicals, but something else catches his eye…

ME : A… Survival knife…?

ME : I was the one guarding the armory yesterday...

ME : So, then this knife couldn’t be the murder weapon, right…?

━

Chie Komiya, 27 years old.

An introverted woman with a love for the occult. She's wearing a school uniform, but is actually 27 years old… Having been a shut-in for years, it seems she lacks the courage and freedom to buy new clothes. She practices rituals daily and is a skilled fortune-teller.

━

CHIE KOMIYA : S-someone was really murdered...

CHIE KOMIYA : A wolf game, they called it! Is the organizer insane or something!?"

CHIE KOMIYA : "It's hopeless... there’s no way any of us can survive in a situation like this..."

ME : Are you okay...?

CHIE KOMIYA : D-don't come near me!

ME : Apologies…

ME : (Best not antagonize her right now…)

Giving Chie her space, he searches the room, finding another book, only to be hit with the realization that…

ME : Th-this is my elementary school’s class album!?

ME : W-Why is something like this here...!?

ME : This can’t be real, can it?

ME : How on Earth did they get their hands on something like this? And why…?

ME : What could they possibly want with it?

Summoning up the courage, he opens the album, flicking through the photos until…

ME : Th-this is...

One single kid had been crossed out…

ME : Does this mean…? B-But, but why…?

ME : Who is behind this wolf game!?

ME : There’s still so much we don’t know… I don't understand any of this..."

He places down the photo album as he tries to make sense of it.

ME : (There's no way someone broke into my house and stole it, right...?)

ME : (Just thinking about it sends shivers down my spine…)

[skyerocketing-anxiety]

Formal Analysis:

This is a photo taken from the wings of a Broadway stage that is putting on a production of a show called Waitress. Waitress is a musical and a stage adaptation of a 2007 movie of the same name written and directed by Adrienne Shelley. With the book written by Jessie Nelson and the music and lyrics by Sara Bareilles, it is also the first show ever on Broadway to have a creative team comprised entirely of women (writer, composer, director and choreographer). Waitress is about a woman named Jenna who's in an abusive marriage but tries to make a better life for herself after she finds out she's pregnant. She decides to enter a pie making contest with a cash prize of $25,000 that if she wins, she will use to move away and start a brand new life with her baby.

While the person who took this photo is unknown, it was most likely taken by either a cast or crew member of the show. Because the band playing the instrumentals is so small (6 people), they play all the music from a moving platform that always stays on stage during the show. This platform can be seen in the background of this photo, and judging by the fact that you can’t see anyone on it, this was probably not during a public performance, but a dress rehearsal. According to my research (that I did to the best of my ability), this photo was likely taken in 2017 during the time actress Betsy Wolfe played the starring role. Although I can't tell what specific scene is being rehearsed because there are multiple scenes that take place in this same setting, the setting itself is the kitchen of the diner Jenna works at. This is the place where some of the most heartfelt moments in the show happen, and where we get to know so much about her life through her passion for baking.

In this picture, the movement of the eye goes directly to the right side of the photo where Jenna stands. The contrast between the majority of the stage being mostly shrouded in darkness and the spotlight being within Jenna’s workshop and emphasizing the actress makes it this way. The eye is typically drawn to the places with the most light, so the next thing your eye goes to is the neon diner sign above the stage, and then you make your way through the rest of the photo. Another way the photo draws emphasis to Jenna is with the convenient framing of the set. The ingredient shelf, one of the stage's walls, and the diner counter create a line down the photo that splits the photo in 2. Having one person on either side of this “line” creates the illusion of symmetry or balance. There's not much to say about the colors; there are more cool tones than warm, and the lighting on the right side of the photo makes all the colors seem like pastel shades. The colors are pleasing to look at, though. The set itself, as well as all the things going on in the photo, like the actor waiting behind the ingredient shelf for his cue, or the stand of instruments in the back can make it seem cluttered. But, to me, that gives it a sense of unity and makes the photo what it is. It makes the photo feel busy and alive and lived in. (Also, I'm not sure if this counts for anything, but whenever I look at this image, the first thing to come to mind is sparkles. It just keeps happening, so I felt like it was worth mentioning. Do with this information what you will.)

Waitress is a gut-wrenching but beautiful story with emotionally charged songs that never fail to tug at your heartstrings, while also somehow managing to be funny at the same time. It switches between tones with such ease despite the subject matter that the serious parts of the story depict. There isn't really any sort of message this photo is trying to convey, it was simply taken out of love. It's a candid photo taken by someone who was a part of this show, loves it dearly, and wanted to encapsulate this memory forever. Even though this person was in that theater and on that stage every day for months or even years on end, they were still able to find beauty in something that was mundane and routine to them. This photo inspires me to take photos like these myself, on top of the already built in dream I've had for years of wanting to be in this production one day.