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happi-tree · 6 months

Text

midnight (close to you)

Taylor ❤️‍🔥 just now u up

Lincoln grimaces at the 03:27 in bold numbers across the top of his screen before swiping on the message and unlocking his phone to type out a quick reply.

Me Yeah.

Lincoln is no stranger to seeing Taylor up at weird hours, but as he glances at past messages (filled on Taylor’s part with lots of exclamation points and cutesy little emotes), he suddenly feels a bit more awake.

A chat bubble appears below, animated dots appearing and disappearing as he waits.

Taylor ❤️‍🔥 🕯️?

Me On it.

Or: Taylor has a bad night, and Lincoln tries his best to make it more bearable.

ao3

Swiftli time, lovebirds!!! Here’s my fic for day 5: demons/nightmares. Like days 1 and 3, this is part of the supernatural au @llumimoon, @kaseyskat, and I planned out together. Hope you enjoy!

(Title taken from "Sleep-walking" by Dreamcatcher).

Lincoln Li-Wilson is tossing and turning in a vain attempt at sleep when his phone buzzes.

Blearily, he wipes at his eyes as he focuses on the screen, wincing at the sudden brightness.

Taylor ❤️‍🔥 just now

u up

Lincoln grimaces at the 03:27 in bold numbers across the top of his screen before swiping on the message and unlocking his phone to type out a quick reply.

Yeah.

A chat bubble appears below, animated dots appearing and disappearing as he waits.

Taylor ❤️‍🔥

🕯️?

On it.

Lincoln pushes himself out of bed, making his way over to turn on his fairy lights (a joke gift from Normal, tiny pairs of butterfly wings casting the room in warm-tinted pinpricks of light) and opens one of his dresser drawers, pulling out the components he needs.

Next to go is the area rug, rolled up and pushed to the side to uncover the large pentagram painted into the floor, encircled by runes Lincoln had checked and double-checked, written in Taylor’s steady hand.

He places the red taper candles in the direction of each of the four winds, scatters coarse salt atop the inked circle (a formality at this point, but he can never be too careful). He fumbles with the lighter, trying a few times before remembering to shut off the ceiling fan.

Lincoln makes sure to crack the door open (the increasingly invasive questions from both of his dads had been downright embarrassing the last time they did this and he is not in the mood for a repeat experience). They won’t mind, he knows.

Besides, there are many worse things a teenage boy like Lincoln could be doing than ritually summoning a demon. Half-demon. Whatever.

At each point of the star, he places small offerings: an unopened box of strawberry crunch Pocky; a Garfield plush (which he deeply hopes Taylor will give back to him, since it’s one of his favorites); a room-temperature Ramune; a sparkly sticker; a homemade charm bracelet (no iron or silver, of course, warded for protection and serenity).

In the very center of the pentagram, Lincoln carefully places the Hatsune Miku keychain Taylor had lent him for this exact purpose.

Lincoln pricks his finger and lets a drop of blood fall to the outer edge of the circle, lets the sizzle of it drown out the soft mutterings of the incantation.

Five pinpricks of flame flare higher, brighter, and brilliant ribbons of fire spread outward to conjoin in the center of the circle. Lincoln watches warily as the ball of flame grows and grows, expanding outward and beginning to color with the reddish-magenta hue of his friend’s aura, casting the room in stark maroon shadows.

Before his eyes, the blaze grows brighter, burns hotter, practically pushing at the bounds of its ink-carved confinement, and Lincoln feels the heat lick at his face, warm against his cheeks.

As suddenly as it began, the light is extinguished, revealing the hunched pajama-clad form of Taylor amidst the embers and smoke, the faint cerise glow around him fading until he’s backlit by Lincoln’s fairy lights.

It’s an enchanting sight, normally, one that Lincoln cherishes, but not when Taylor’s glancing down at the painted floorboards with glossed-over eyes, trembling slightly.

“Hey,” Lincoln says, breaking the line of salt with a nudge of his socked foot, crawling forward until their knees touch.

A single, long strand of Taylor’s fringe is still aflame, so Lincoln leans inward and pinches it gently between his thumb and forefinger and extinguishes it with a hiss.

“Taylor,” Lincoln calls, voice hushed in the night but hopefully loud enough to get through to him. He tucks the midnight-dark strand behind the delicate, reddened point of Taylor’s ear.

When he doesn’t respond, doesn’t look up, worry settles further in his stomach, a leaden weight.

His hand cups his best friend’s face, carefully guiding upward until Taylor meets his gaze.

Glazed-over and deeply tired, Taylor stares blinkingly at him for a moment, eyes welling with tears.

“Hey,” Lincoln tries again, “what’s going o-” The air is knocked out of him in a quiet oof as Taylor lunges forward into his chest. He’s uncomfortably warm to the touch in such a way that would burn most people but only leaves Lincoln with a tingling sensation, kind of like sitting by a fireplace for a bit too long. He can feel the fabric of his sleep shirt growing wet where Taylor’s buried his face into his shoulder, and his arms come around to encircle his friend instinctively.

“You’re burning up,” Lincoln frets as he touches the back of his hand to Taylor’s forehead. It feels like stretching his hands out over a bonfire rather than a candle, like usual, and he frowns at the way the heat pushes angrily against his wardings, making his hand glow a barely-perceptible gold. He frowns even deeper when Taylor only wriggles further into his arms, making a sad, distressed sort of sound.

Lincoln notices the way Taylor presses his ear into the left side of his chest, pushing against him like he’s searching out his heartbeat, and something in him twists a little.

This floor can’t be comfortable for him, especially not when he’s shaking and breathing unevenly.

Lincoln looks behind him, opens more of the salt circle with his bare foot, knocks over a crimson candle in the process.

Whatever, he’ll clean it up in the morning.

“Gonna pick you up now, okay?” Lincoln murmurs, ducking his head so he doesn’t have to speak too loud and making sure to keep his voice slow and steady and reassuring.

Taylor nods against him, and Lincoln allows himself a shadow of a smile.

“Good,” he says, and adjusts his hold, sliding one arm under Taylor’s knees and another along his back (beneath his shoulder blades, just in case). Something thin and warm coils itself around his forearm and squeezes, and Lincoln doesn’t need to look to know that Taylor’s wrapped his tail around him for support as his clawed hands scramble for purchase on his upper back. The fabric of Lincoln’s shirt shreds a little, but as always, Taylor’s scratching doesn’t manage to break through the latent magic just atop his skin.

“Up we go!” Lincoln says, and Taylor clings to him even tighter as he holds his smaller friend aloft, carrying them both to his twin XL bed and depositing Taylor as gracefully as he can.

Which isn’t very graceful at all, since Taylor refuses to let go of him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Lincoln soothes - or at least tries to. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I just need you to let me go, ‘kay?”

Taylor shakes his head, mumbling something almost inaudible into his chest.

“What was that?” he says, even though he knows he heard the muffled no, not again the first time.

“Can’t,” Taylor says instead, leaving Lincoln leaning awkwardly over the edge of the bed, feeling oddly cold despite the feverish boy in his arms.

“Okay,” Lincoln mutters, shifting his hold a little (because while Taylor is relatively easy to pick up, soccer has, admittedly, not done much for his arm strength). “Can I move my hand so you can hold it, maybe? So I can be next to you?”

Taylor hums in the affirmative, so Lincoln slides a hand from beneath his friend’s back, and Taylor takes it the second it’s offered, clutching it with clawed fingers like a lifeline as Lincoln climbs into the narrow bed beside him.

That doesn’t last long, though, because Taylor is quick to throw an arm across Link’s shoulders and drape his leg across Lincoln’s own in a strange, full body half-hug.

Lincoln hums a little in concern, worry pulling at his brow. Taylor really must not be feeling well with the way that every point of contact between them burns the tiniest bit, despite the layers and layers of enchantments and wards and immunities that have woven themselves into Lincoln’s cells.

Taylor’s head buries just below Link’s jaw, the way Normal tends to do when he’s feeling needy or sad and wants their pack’s scent around him. His horns, still growing by the day, clip against the side of Lincoln’s face harmlessly as he shuffles into him.

Lincoln takes a minute to marvel at the close bond he has with his friends that defies human description. To go from having nobody his own age to talk to, much less be around, to having three people who care about him - despite rocky introductions - who love him enough to call him family, to be pack, to choose him, to come to him for comfort and camaraderie, to want him… it’s a lot.

Sometimes, if Lincoln thinks about it too hard, the way his friends give him affection so freely - the way Normal nearly tackles him to the ground with the force of his hug and calls him by Name when the world gets to be too much, the way Scary leans into him without hesitation, the way Taylor curls into him now without reigning in his infernal traits - he could almost cry.

Taylor’s tail wraps around Lincoln’s waist, steadfast and needy, the spaded tip of it thumping irregularly against Lincoln’s side.

They rest like that for several moments that seem simultaneously like an instant and like they stretch on into eternity, eons passing with each movement of Lincoln’s fingers through Taylor’s sleep-mussed hair.

Since Lincoln can’t really look at Taylor without craning his neck awkwardly, he chooses a spot on the ceiling to stare at, reveling in the feeling of Taylor cuddling up against him and taking obviously deep, slow breaths so that Taylor can match them. The heat at his side slowly abates from almost-singeing to a comforting warmth, and just as slowly, Taylor’s breath evens out from where it fans against his neck.

Lincoln lets the relative silence wash over him, waiting.

“Link?” Taylor asks, voice slightly muffled.

(Taylor’s lips brush against the side of Lincoln’s throat in a way that makes his breath catch, sends his heart fluttering in his chest, but that’s not something he wants to think too hard about right now.)

“Yeah?” he responds quietly, and thankfully his voice doesn’t sound too strangled as he whispers.

“Thanks.” Taylor doesn’t look up, doesn’t let go, but he’s relaxed more fully into Lincoln’s side rather than grasping in a desperate panic.

“Anytime, man.” It’s amazing, the way Taylor’s presence can warm him from the inside out without even trying, without even factoring in his demonic abilities.

Lincoln doesn’t press for answers.

At this point, he doesn’t really need to. It’s become something of a routine for them over the past few months - whenever Taylor is left in an empty house and craves company, whenever Lincoln is feeling a little too cold, whenever sleep eludes them, the summoning circle is there, just to the side of Lincoln’s bed, and suddenly, things are a little less lonely.

Sometimes, Taylor wants to talk. Sometimes, he keeps to himself, and Lincoln tries not to let it worry him too much.

Anxiety meds are great for that, but the haunted look in his friends’ eyes is an unknown that Lincoln can’t protect them from, can only try his best to understand, fumbling and human as he is.

“I, uh. Had a bad dream,” Taylor starts, tucking his head out of Lincoln’s neck to face him.

Ah. Tonight falls in the former category, then.

“Yeah?” Lincoln hears himself say, though he had figured as much.

“Yeah. Really, uh. Really bad.”

Taylor’s voice sounds so small in the mostly-dark quiet of the room.

Lincoln squeezes their hands, still conjoined, a tiny, wordless reassurance.

“You’re safe now,” Lincoln tells him. “My dad’s warded this entire house like crazy.”

Taylor scoffs. “Yeah, like I could forget after the first time you snuck me in.”

“I thought we agreed we would never talk about that again,” Lincoln responds, mock-shuddering.

“You begged me not to bring it up, I promised nothing. Not the same thing.”

Lincoln likes seeing Taylor’s smile again, even if it’s just the barest flash of fang glinting in the soft glow of his distant fairy lights. Even when it fades a few seconds later.

Taylor’s tail squeezes around Lincoln’s middle, and Lincoln brings a hand to rest on his shoulder.

“Hey,” He murmurs. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Taylor laughs again, but it’s a shaky, mirthless sound, this time.

“I know you wouldn’t,” He says quietly. Then, “You didn’t, in my dream. You, uh, died.”

“Oh,” Lincoln says.

“Didn’t wanna bother you with it, but you were awake, and it’s stupid, but…” Taylor’s voice trails off.

Lincoln exhales, holds his friend closer.

“I wouldn’t wanna lose you, either,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, just between his horns.

Taylor’s warmth flares in his hold, just a little bit, and the corners of Lincoln’s lips turn up a fraction. Even despite everything, his best friend is incredibly easy to fluster.

“There were… hunters,” he mumbles, looking down at Lincoln’s orange-and-black striped comforter, grasping for his hands and fidgeting with their loosely-locked fingers to distract Lincoln (and maybe himself, too) from the way his shoulders still tremble. “They were coming for us - Norm, Scary, Hermie. Me.”

Something in Lincoln’s stomach feels like it just twisted, and pressure builds behind his eyes - half-exhaustion, half-sorrow.

“Taylor - hey, Tay, look at me, please?”

Lincoln sees the way that Taylor’s downturned, red-tinged mahogany eyes brim with tears, threatening to spill over onto his cheeks.

Lincoln gently extricates a hand from Taylor’s grasp, brings it to rest under his chin, tilting it upward until they are face to face again and he can peer into his eyes.

Taylor’s eyes have a fire lit behind them, one he’s always noticed in the back of his mind before either of them were aware of his demonic heritage. It’s captivating, the way that they catch in the light, spark to match the bright burn of Taylor’s convictions. Again and again, they’ve drawn Lincoln in like a moth to a flame, crimson-brown-black and enchanting in an entirely different way than anything of the fae.

Lincoln thinks he would jump into the fire and set himself ablaze if it meant that he would never have to see the light behind his eyes shrink to the pinpricks that he sees now.

Hot tears stream down Taylor’s cheeks, silent except for the small hiss the droplets make as they hit the fabric of Lincoln’s bedspread.

Lincoln thumbs the rest away as Taylor leans into the affection, catlike, and the thing in Lincoln’s stomach writhes again.

“Taylor,” he says again, “Look at me.”

Dark eyelashes flutter open, and Taylor looks so, so tired, so haunted.

(Lincoln’s seen that look before on the face of someone else he loves, and he’d give anything to never see it on either of them again.)

“I need you to listen to me.”

Lincoln has… a hard time making eye contact, sometimes, but this is important, so he stares into his friend’s eyes, doesn’t back off or let his gaze slide away.

“You know my family wouldn’t let that happen. That - my dad - it’s his whole thing, you know?”

“Your dad wasn’t there,” Taylor says. “Just you.”

“Then I wouldn’t let that happen. You know I wouldn’t, if it came down to it.”

“I know,” Taylor replies, miserably. “That’s the problem.”

Oh.

“The jackass - in my dream, y’know - the guy that shot you, you know what he said? He said that it was a shame that he had to waste a silver bullet on a pesky human. That it was sad that we’d, like, magicked you into siding with us. Which was so fucked up and I - I couldn’t move, I was so angry. And scared, god, I was terrified, and Norm and Scary were, too, and then it all went black, and-”

“And you woke up?” Lincoln guessed.

“Yeah,” Taylor says. “Nearly melted my phone trying to text you.”

Lincoln frowns, scooches closer to him. Rests a hand on Taylor’s cheek, leans in to press their foreheads together.

Taylor’s horns poke uncomfortably against his skull, but Lincoln ignores it - besides, with all of the immunities he’s built up, the pain barely registers.

“I’m here,” Lincoln says.

“I know,” Taylor responds, and his voice is hoarse.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You - Link, you can’t just say that. I know you’ve got some weird, fucked-up magic shit protecting you, but you’re human, and I’m -”

“Half-human,” Lincoln reminds him, not unkindly. “You didn’t ask for this.”

“Well, you didn’t, either!”

“I know,” Lincoln responds. “We’re both new to this, and there’s horrible people out there that have it out for us, and we just gotta… live with that.”

“It’s not fair,” Taylor groans, resting his face in the crook of Lincoln’s neck again.

“It isn’t,” Lincoln agrees as he begins to card fingers through warm, dark hair. Taylor makes a soft, whispery sort of sound like the crackling of a campfire, resonating from his chest in the demonic equivalent of purring.

“You’re right. I’m human, even if I’m harder to mess with than most,” Lincoln says. “But I chose this, at least a little bit. I chose you, all of you. And I’m not gonna back out. We’re in this together, dude. As long as you’ll have me?”

“You say that like it’s a question. I’ll always want you. I’m a selfish bitch like that.”

“Hey, don’t talk about my best friend like that,” Lincoln teases, and presses another kiss to the top of Taylor’s head for emphasis.

He chuckles. “You keep that up, and people are gonna think we’re more than best friends.”

“Pretty allonormative of you, Taylor,” Lincoln snipes. “Plus, I don’t see anyone else here…”

“Well, then, I guess I can retaliate without an audience,” Taylor responds, and Lincoln can hear the familiar mischief in his voice.

“Retal- ah,” the air leaves Lincoln’s lungs as Taylor presses his lips against the side of his neck, purposefully lets a fang graze against the delicate skin there.

“Mm,” Taylor hums. Lincoln can feel the vibration of it against his throat, and the sound goes straight to his head, warm and sleep-fuzzed and more than a little deliriously dizzy.

“Sorry,” Taylor says, not sounding the least bit apologetic as he pulls away after a moment with a soft popping sound. “You were saying?”

Taylor’s tail sways back and forth behind him, giving him the appearance of a predator ready to pounce.

“Guh,” Lincoln responds intelligibly, trying to get his brain back online. “You’re the worst, sometimes, you know that? Like, I was going somewhere with that, and then - you -”

“I am pretty insufferable, huh,” Taylor says with a close-lipped grin, sounding far too self-satisfied.

“Guess I’ll just have to suffer you, then,” Lincoln replies with a small grin of his own, dragging Taylor down into his arms.

Taylor gives in easily, tail brushing against the side of Lincoln’s leg affectionately.

“Taking one for the team,” Lincoln says. “I’m pretty good at that.”

“Too good,” Taylor says, looking up at him from the circle of his arms. “I don’t need you throwing yourself into the, like, line of fire for me when I’m immune, yeah?”

“The dream wasn’t real, you know.”

“Could be, someday,” Taylor muses, and though the tear tracks have evaporated from his face, there’s still a twist of uncharacteristic melancholy in his expression.

Lincoln hums. “Well, in the meantime, maybe we can protect each other? And the others. That sound okay?” he asks. “Because I’m not gonna stop having your back anytime soon.”

“Same here,” Taylor says. “You’re ours, and anyone who comes at us can take you away over my dead body.”

“Possessive,” Link notes, pointedly ignoring the way his heart jolts. “And kinda morbid.” “Eh, it’s a demon thing, I think,” Taylor shrugs.

“Dork.”

“I dunno, I think it’s kinda hot.”

“Taylor, you’re part demon. Being hot is your thing.”

“Oh, so I’m attractive to you, huh? What are you gonna do, kiss me about it?” There’s a single fang poking out of Taylor’s smile, and Lincoln fails not to think about the way it felt brushing over his pulse.

“Maybe. If we both go to sleep after this.”

Taylor blinks lazily at him. “Sleep sounds nice,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Think you could keep the nightmares away?” His eyes, as tired as they are, are so deep and dark and beautiful.

“I’ve got a few charms for that,” Lincoln answers, pointing around the room at bundles of herbs and twine and rune-inscribed parchment that Marco had strung up along corners of the ceiling.

“Link, I was trying to be flirty.”

“Oh,” Lincoln says. Then, “So if I kiss you, you’ll go to sleep?”

“Mm, that can be arranged,” Taylor agrees, his tail snaking around to tap against Lincoln’s nose affectionately before wrapping around his waist.

“Good,” Lincoln breathes, and he leans in to meet Taylor halfway.

In the end, Lincoln loses count of how many lazy kisses they exchange in the faint glow of the fairy lights before they succumb to slumber, but when he wakes, Taylor is still in his arms, a faint smile on his face in his sleep.

Lincoln can feel his face mirror the expression as he wipes a bit of Taylor’s drool away with the back of his hand. He leans down and ghosts his lips over Taylor’s temple, tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear, filled with an uncomfortable-yet-comforting warmth wherever their bodies overlap.

Lincoln basks in it as he closes his eyes again, resting against the pillows, and knows that whatever dangers lurk ahead, they’ll face them together.

#ah. swiftli my beloveds <333 feels good to post them again!!!#ideally. i would've posted day 2/4's fic yesterday for More Context purposes but alas 😔 the eepy got me and we have a schedule to keep #i don't think it's toooooooo hard to read between the lines for this one? v light to nonexistent detective work here methinks #but i'll let y'all be the judge of that!#anyway. the li-wilsons have made me particularly unwell in this au and i will be abnormal about them FOREVER #anyway uh. boys cuddling and kissing perhaps queerplatonically. what then 😳😳😳#tbh you can read this anyway you like! just know that neither of them are completely allo in my head (happy belated ace week)#and also. there's a couple little nods to link having autism here and there <3 bc i am an autistic link truther #and an autistic taylor truther too btw it's just not as obvious here #okokok now for actual tags #dndads #fic #swiftli #dndads halloween week 2023 #happi scribbles #bat and wolf #happi rambles

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polaroidbills · 1 year

Text

08. no bitches?

pairing! - non-idol!jungwon x fem!reader

synopsis! - inspired by reckless by madison beer - jungwon promised y/n to never break her already damaged heart, but can he really keep it?

word count! - 743

october 14, 2021 @ 6:55 p.m

(y/n's pov)

the sound of the welcoming door bell rings through our ears.

the door opens, revealing heeseung.

"hey guys! come in!" he allows us to walk in.

immediately i see jay cooking, sunoo chilling on the couch, riki looking for ice cream, and sunghoon and jake playing video games.

"jay's just cooking dinner. i think it's tteokbokki," heeseung shuts the door.

"where's jungwon?" i question.

"oh he said he'll be a bit late," he shrugs.

"oh okay," i mumble as chaeyeon pulls me away, ending the conversation.

20 minutes later, it's now 7:15.

jungwon's still not here.

"yah! jake what the hell!" sunghoon shouts.

we're all playing mario kart and jake hit sunghoon with a shell. everyone laughs.

the door bell rings. "jake go get that," heeseung orders, immersed in the game. "fine."

"yes! i won!" sunghoon celebrates.

"jungwon hey!" everyone turns to the door. jungwon walks in with a smile and we all greet him.

running up to him i hug him, "i was waiting for you, what took you so long man?"

"heh, sorry my mom needed help with the laundry, took longer than i expected," he laughs hugging me back.

"okayyy! break it up or get a room!" jake shoves his hands in between us to separate us. we laugh awkwardly.

at dinner, jay places his tteokbokki on the table.

"hmm it's delicious," i say surprised.

"right! jays cooking is for real the best!" riki agrees and everyone starts digs in.

"so what should we do tonight?" sunoo starts a conversation.

"hm.. i was thinking we play party games. you know like truth or dare and whatever," heeseung suggests.

"yeah! and then we can watch like a movie or two!" riki adds and everyone agrees, finishing our food.

after placing our dirty dishes in the dishwasher, we all gather in the living room. as i was about to sit down next to jungwon when chaeyeon squeezes in between us and sits down.

"so who wants to start?" jake says making everyone confused. "huh?"

"truth or dare? hello? okay fine. whatever. heeseung, truth or dare?" everyone comes to realization.

"ohh~ hmm, truth."

"is it truth that no ones asked you to the spook-a-thon yet?"

we laugh and "ouuu"s are heard.

"yes," heeseung salts.

"it's giving megamind, no bitches?" everyone laughs.

"okay okay i get it, but to be fair jake, the only bitch you get is your dog, layla," he smirks and everyone bursts into laughter. jake rolls his eyes in defeat.

"anyway, hmm chaeyeon, truth or dare?"

"uhh you know what? dare."

"ouu shes getting bold," everyone jokes.

"okay... i dare you to sit beside the hottest guy here," heeseung dares.

"easy," chaeyeon gets up and sits right in between jake and jungwon.

"ouuu," everyone shocked, as well as me.

"so is it jake or jungwon?" heeseung asks

"i didn't pick truth~," chaeyeon mocks.

"okay okay, hmm let's see... oh y/n truth or dare?"

"dare."

"i dare you play the pocky game with sunghoon," chaeyeon smirks.

"oh shit~,"

"damnn," everyones baffled.

i grab a pocky stick and walk over to sunghoon nervously. i sit down and place the stick in my mouth. facing sunghoon, he places his mouth on the stick, not making eye contact with me. i thank him for that. as we inch closer i get even more nervous.

almost an inch away, i can't take it anymore. i was about to break it, when sunghoon went for the last nibble. his lips brush against mine and we quickly break the stick.

my eyes wide open and not being able to chew the pocky. claps and laughs were heard from the others.

"woww!" chaeyeon hollers.

"okay moving on," i change the subject. still sitting beside riki and sunghoon, i don't make eye contact with them.

"my turn. hmm riki, truth or dare?" i turn to him.

"uh truth," he hesitates.

"is it true that yooha has a big crush on you, so she joined the dance team to be with you? and you have feelings for her too?"

"yes.. i mean i think it is? i can't ask her straight up, you know? but i so like her..." riki scratches his head feeling awkward.

"okay my turn!" riki claps happily.

"jungwon, truth or dare?" we all turn to him and he looks a little uncomfortable.

"dare."

"i dare you to do the pocky stick game with y/n."

previous masterlist next

author's note! - pocky game ayee! no bitches?

taglist 🏷️ @boowoowho @fadedluvv @hursheys @enhacolor

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sleepynegress · 3 years

Video

youtube

For the culture...What was playing during that montage.

#tfatws #the neville brothers #the meters #hey pocky way #seeing taylor swift on sam wilson music mixes has been making me squint a bit #sam wilson

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 8: The Light]

Hi y’all! Thank you so much for reading and supporting my writing. Each and every message/reblog/comment/etc makes me smile, and it’s a dream come true to get to share my work with you! 💜

Chapter summary: John shares a secret; Y/N excels at Scrabble; Brian makes peace; Roger suffers a misstep.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, medical stuff, pregnancy (not who you think!).

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @bookandband @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence @simonedk

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

Medicine teaches you to be fiercely skeptical of things that seem too good to be true. Bodies fail—completely and inevitably, though the timing may differ—and patients lie. Medical records don’t, fingerprints don’t, track marks up the underside of an arm don’t, blood and paternity tests don’t, oftentimes the eyes don’t; but given half a chance, people will lie themselves right into the grave.

Those bruises, doc? Got ‘em from a nasty fall down the stairs. I’m lucky I didn’t break my neck!

Nope, never done drugs, not even a joint, I swear on my mother’s life.

I’ll give it up, I’ll go to rehab. Never again. I promise. I don’t want to die.

Doc, I don’t care if the timing doesn’t seem quite right. My husband IS the father. There’s been no one else!

That doting fiancé is flirting with the nurses. Those grown-up children who fluff pillows and dab away tears are asking about the will. That wife is never going to testify against her abusive husband. That addict is going to relapse again...and again...and again. Are there exceptions? Of course. But if you get in the habit of trusting people—of believing all those tantalizingly attractive, hopeful lies—it’ll break your heart six ways to Sunday. There is no perfection in medicine, and there are very rarely miracles.

And so during those first few weeks with Roger—as you watch him from the reeling crowd, from the other side of the tour bus, from across the restaurant table, from the tiny viewfinder of the Canon F-1—you can’t stop searching for the cracks, the shadows, the lies, the dark malignancies breeding beneath the surface. Because everything about Roger Taylor is too good to be true. He’s bright and he’s loud and he’s brilliant and he’s always smiling, always warm. He careens backstage after every show—you keep bracing yourself not to be disappointed when the novelty wears away, when it ends, but it doesn’t—pushing aside roadies and reporters, shouting “Where’s the love of my life? Where’s my Boston babe?” with the most absurd grin you’ve ever seen until he finds you, collides with you, scoops you up and spins you in ungainly circles as your toes skim the floor. Then he cradles your face in his scarred hands and kisses you, breathes you in, tells you everything about the show (even though you were there to see it) in a rush of pure, manic adrenaline. And you stumble into some dressing room together—or a hotel room, or a taxi, or a limousine, or an elevator—and finally it’s your bare thighs his palms are gliding over, your tongue tasting the Heineken and craving on his lips, and it feels impossible for that to ever change. Roger is too good to be true, that’s undeniable; but when you watch him with those doubtful, cautious eyes, you can’t find anything but light.

He wakes up at 6 a.m. to join you on a bayou tour in New Orleans, taps his cigarette over the moss-covered sides of the boat, points out the alligators with leathered skin and ancient yellow irises lurking in the depths. He walks Fremont Street with you in Las Vegas and makes you choose his numbers for the Roulette wheel, for his fate. He snaps photos of you on a sun-drenched balcony in Miami, roaring cobalt waves crashing in the background. He takes you to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, the Art Institute of Chicago, the National Aquarium in Baltimore, the Philadelphia Zoo, Myrtle Beach and the Saint Louis Arch and the Santa Monica Pier. Because he was telling the truth when he said he could show you the world all those months ago when Queen was at Top of the Pops; he was telling you the truth about the list that’s etched into the rushing scarlet chambers of his heart.

When the American leg of the tour ends and the band gets a brief reprieve in London, you move into Roger’s paltry, disorganized flat and scrub away all the remnants of his past life: dust and empty cigarette boxes and women’s socks, ashes and copies of Vogue, a tube of lipstick that isn’t yours. You don’t complain, don’t even frown; you’re under no delusions that something eternal can be founded on resentment, on lies. And so you clear out the clutter and open the windows so sunshine and crisp spring air can breathe through the apartment, so you can both start fresh along with the bellflowers and delphiniums and roses and the tawny newborn ducklings scampering behind their mothers. You hang photos from the tour and John’s sketches on the refrigerator, place your Canon F-1 and pink conch shell from Ostia on the nightstand, litter the drawers with your own socks and makeup. You teach Roger how to sew (although he’s not much good at it) and how to treat blisters (although you’ll always be there to do it for him); and in return Roger teaches you how to trust, how to believe, how to stop searching desperately for faults in the light.

On the second day of April, Queen boards their flight to Tokyo. Brian settles into a plushy, billowing blanket and loses himself in an astronomy magazine; he’s an engaged man now, an honest man in the eyes of society at large...and, far more importantly, his parents. Freddie pens lyrics in his notebook, humming disjointedly, napping like a cat when the mood strikes him. Roger snacks constantly and tries to get John chatting, but John is particularly subdued today, preoccupied, prone to gazing unfocusedly at the clouds that drift by outside and wringing his hands.

And you think, as you peer down into the glistening sapphire waters of the East China Sea: Brian’s a willow tree, Freddie’s a lightning storm, Roger is wildfire...but what is John?

Something deep, something beautiful and strong and constant and hidden.

The ocean, you decide as Queen’s private plane soars over the quicksilver waves that conceal the abyss. John is the ocean.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You didn’t have to stay, you know.”

John is lying on his back under a small grove of cherry blossom trees outside the hotel, sketching grey outlines of petals and arcing branches in a new notebook. He hasn’t given any sign that he heard you coming, doesn’t turn his head to see you. You freeze, startled.

“How’d you know it was me?!”

“You have very distinct footsteps. Dainty, yet purposeful.” He sets aside his notebook and sits up, crossing his long legs. “Why didn’t you go to lunch?”

“Because you didn’t. You turned down ramen, and you never turn down ramen. I was worried. Plus someone has to make sure a roving posse of screaming Japanese girls doesn’t carry you off.”

That makes him laugh. The Japanese fans are inexplicably obsessed with John; or maybe it’s not so inexplicable, maybe they just have a better eye for quiet, unassuming wonders. “Always so thoughtful.”

You sit down beside him, open a pack of chocolate-flavored Pocky and offer John a piece, frown when he lights a cigarette instead. “That’s really bad for you. Seriously. You should quit.”

“At last. One thing you and Brian agree on.” He exhales a gale of smoke and peers up at the cherry blossoms.

“John?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t break up with Veronica, did you?” Chrissie and Mary didn’t mention anything about her tearful devastation, and you suspect they would have had John gone through with it.

He sighs. “I did not.”

“And...are we feeling...okay about that...?”

He twirls the cigarette nervously between his fingers. After a silence, he surrenders. “Look, I haven’t told anybody yet, but I’d tell you first anyway. So here it goes.” He glances over at you guiltily, gloomily, wishing he could disappear. “I didn’t break up with Veronica because she’s pregnant.”

Your jaw falls open. A half-eaten stick of Pocky rolls out of your mouth and onto the grass. She’s what? She’s WHAT?

“Please don’t be disappointed,” John pleads. “I’m disappointed in myself enough for both of us, believe me.”

“I...I...I’m not disappointed, John, I’m just...” You blink at him. “Oh my god.”

He nods, acquiescent. “I’m in complete agreement.”

You shake your head, gaping at him, stunned; and suddenly you don’t like what you’re feeling at all. Because it isn’t just shock and horror, it isn’t just apprehension. You hate the thought of him touching her, of her delicate white hands on him, of innocence stripped away and memories impressed into muscle, into soul.

Because you know she’s not right for him. Because you know he doesn’t love her the way he should. Because you want the best for him and always have.

Oh, there’s a comforting rationale; but is it true?

And then: You fucking hypocrite. Since when do you get an opinion on who anyone sleeps with?

“It must have happened in January,” John says miserably. “Right before we left for the States. She didn’t want to tell me over the phone...I guess maybe she thought if she did I’d never come back. So she told me as soon as I landed in London. And here we all are.”

You stare down at your shoes, trying to compose yourself. “What are you going to do?”

“There’s only one option.”

“Actually, there are quite a few. But I know you’d never consider them.” John’s father died when he was ten, and he never talks about it; which is precisely how you know it’s a wound that can’t ever heal, a gash that goes straight down to the bone. He would never leave his child, never banish them to some dusty, repressed corner of his consciousness while he moves on with a blissfully unencumbered life. You whisper: “I’m so fucking sorry, John.”

That snaps something in him, something he was choking back. He buries his face in his hands. “What the fuck am I doing?” he moans. “I’m twenty-three years old, I’m broke, I turned down loads of jobs, good jobs, as an electrical engineer, I’ve somehow become the bassist in an increasingly famous rock band...I mean, how the hell did this happen? How did any of this happen?”

“It’ll be okay,” you insist with newfound resolve. I have to save him. I have to protect him.

John rolls those soft greyish eyes, hopeless, distraught. “Sure.”

“It will be, I promise you. The tour is going great. I had my doubts about the band when I first met you, I’ll admit it, I didn’t know if there was a future for Queen. But you’ve made me a believer. You’ve made millions of people all over the world believers. The money will keep rolling in, Queen will finally start seeing some of it, you won’t be broke forever. You’ll have two more months on the road and then we’ll be back in London, and it’ll be on to recording the next album, more shows, more money...the hard times are almost over, John. You can do this. And I’ll help you.”

His brow furrows. “You will?”

“Of course. If it’s easier for Veronica, it’ll be easier for you. So I’ll be extra friendly, take her to appointments when you’re busy, help organize the wedding, babysit the littlest Deacon whenever she needs me to. We’ll get through this. I’ll be there to help every step of the way.”

“You’re happy, aren’t you?” he asks suddenly. “You and Roger. You aren’t going anywhere.” He’s reading you closely, sifting through your words and forced smile for something deeper.

“I’m happy,” you assure him. “You don’t need to be concerned about that. I’m staying with the band, I’m staying in London. Whenever Queen is home, that is.”

He nods, but perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he was looking for. He finally accepts a piece of Pocky from you and takes a bite. “Then I guess we’ll plan for a summer wedding.”

“You could do a double one with Brian and Chrissie.”

He laughs so hard he almost inhales the Pocky, then doubles over coughing. “I think Bri would rather slit his own throat, but a charming thought. Thank you for that. Bravo.”

You smile at John, genuinely this time. “You’re going to be an amazing father. I hope you aren’t worried about that part of it, at least.”

“Will you be their godparent?”

“What? Me?!”

“Yeah. Because, you know...” John averts his gaze. “You’d be the person I would want to raise them if something happened to me and Veronica. You’re the most dedicated, stubborn, capable, nurturing, remarkable person I’ve ever met. You’re my best friend. And maybe Roger’s your best friend and you’re his, and that’s all fine, that’s alright, but you’re still mine.”

“Roger is a lot of incredible things, but he’s not my best friend.” You lie flat on the grass and lace your hands behind your head, tracking the weightless snowy clouds as they float by above. When did we become adults? When did all of these rules catch up to us? “I would be honored to be your child’s godparent.”

John plops down beside you. “Don’t tell the others yet, okay? I want to wait until the tour’s over. I don’t want them to panic and think I’m leaving and try to replace me or anything.”

“They wouldn’t try to replace you, John.”

“No?” he asks doubtfully.

“No. Roger knows it, Fred knows it, I think even Bri knows it.” You reach out and weave a lock of his hair through your fingers as cherry blossom petals tumble in the breeze. “You’re irreplaceable.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Sod,” Freddie mocks. “That’s the best you could do? Really? Sod?”

Roger flings up his hands in frustration. “Freddie, I’ve got like a million Cs!”

“You could have done cod,” Brian notes, sipping a cup of hot tea. “Cods, actually.”

Roger glowers down at his Scrabble tiles. “Fuck.”

“And I’m so delighted he didn’t!” You place your tiles, expanding on sod to make rhapsody. John high-fives you and records the points in his notebook. Freddie and Brian groan in defeat.

“What the hell is a rhapsody?!” Roger snatches the Official Scrabble Dictionary off the table and flips through it.

“It’s a, like a...” Freddie waves his cigarette, scattering smoke through the air. “It’s like an epic poem. Or an opera. With lots of bizarre, different parts all pieced together.”

“That sounds made up.”

Freddie cackles. “Darling, it’s a real thing, I swear!”

Roger locates the pertinent page in the Scrabble Dictionary and his shoulders slump. “Goddammit. Fucking...too smart...nerdy...college-educated...girlfriend.” He drags you into his lap and kisses your temple. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I don’t usually tolerate being conquered like this.”

Bri smirks from behind his teacup. “I rather think you conquered her, Rog.”

“Oh, a rare good one from Bri!” Freddie trills as everyone laughs, although John soon busies himself with clearing empty bottles and cigarette butts off the table.

“Yes,” Roger agrees. “Against her superior judgment, I finally won her over. Only took eight months. Which is approximately...wait, let me count...seven and a half months longer than it has ever taken me before.”

You trace your fingertips across his stubbled cheeks, his soft lips, his little dark blond tufts of sideburns. “No one knows how to say no to you, do they?”

“It’s impossible. I’m too charming. Blindingly heroic. Perseus in the flesh.” He kisses your forehead and steadies you, his hands on your waist, as the brakes squeal and the tour bus lurches to a halt.

Freddie leaps to his feet and claps. “Alright, darlings! Off to the new digs we go. Deaky, hand me my shoes, they’re under the table...yes, right there...and toss over Brian’s hideous clogs as well.”

You help the roadies and the band drag luggage into the hotel (no small feat, as the elevator is out of order), unpack your toothbrush and hairbrush and a floral-patterned dress for dinner, giggle as you listen to Roger’s feral, raspy singing in the shower. It’s something about loving a car, how perfectly on-brand for him. Then Roger goes to fetch Freddie and John for dinner while you find Brian. Bri is collapsed on his bed in a striped t-shirt and jeans, freshly-washed and dewy, gazing up at the ceiling in a daze.

You tap gently on the doorframe. “Bri? You want to join us for dinner? There’s a sushi place a few blocks away that’s a local legend, apparently. Lots of veggie options too.”

He looks over at you. You haven’t spoken about the argument since you had it two months ago. Brian sometimes grimaces or smirks or rolls his willowy viridescent eyes, but he never says anything; not to you, and not to Roger as far as you’re aware. “I’m sorry,” he says simply. “I may have been out of line before. Incorrect, even.”

“No need to apologize, Bri. I’ve forgotten all about it.” You haven’t, but there’s no reason for Brian to know that.

“I just want what’s best for you. For you to be happy.”

“I know, Brian.” You cross the room and take his long, moon-white, artful hands in your own. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ll be in the wedding party, won’t you? I know Chris will ask.”

“Of course. And I’ll proudly wear whatever dreadfully tacky and uncomfortable bridesmaid dresses she picks out.”

“Even if they’re a frightful shimmery green?”

“Oh god.” You swallow noisily. “I’ll still do it. And then burn the photos.”

Brian chuckles as he climbs out of bed. “In a stroke of luck, I suspect she’ll ask you to take the pictures. So you can avoid being in them as much as you’d like. And conveniently lose the unflattering ones.”

You study him thoughtfully. “Are you happy, Brian?”

“I am. Chrissie’s excited, my parents are thrilled, they’ll be sitting in the front row with the proudest smiles you’ve ever seen. Next comes a proper house, and children, and all the rest of it.” But something in those mellow olivey eyes is resigned, melancholy. His words from two months ago echo in your skull: It’s necessary. It’s self-preservation. Because sometimes the people who set us on fire would burn us alive.

“Do you still think about New Orleans?” you ask softly. About the woman he’d fallen in love with there before you ever met Queen, about the utopian passion he never quite stops searching for. Everyone has demons, secrets, shadowy trenches like cracks in porcelain; you’ve learned all about Brian’s. What about Roger’s? What about mine?

He shrugs, staring out the window at the dusky skyline of Yokohama. “Maybe I’ll always think about New Orleans. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have to grow up and start taking responsibility.”

“Responsibility,” you reply cynically, before you can stop yourself. “Is that all love is about anymore?”

“Not for you. Not for Roger. You both want your freedom, your adventure, your true and uncomplicated love. And you’ll get to keep it.”

For now. But you don’t say that. Instead, you smile appeasingly and gesture for Brian to follow you out into the hallway.

The others are waiting by the door to the stairwell: John in a smart grey suit, Freddie in his black-and-yellow jacket, Roger in sunglasses and a ridiculous leopard-print vest he’d dug out of a trashcan somewhere and precariously tall boots.

“At last, Nurse Nightingale and my darling Brian!” Freddie chirps. “Come on, I’m positively famished, and also I’ve bet five pounds that I can consume more sake shots than Roger and I could really use the dough.”

Roger pushes through the door, leading the way. “Prepare to lose!”

“Roger, please,” you implore. “New livers don’t grow on trees, and I can’t give you half of mine. I’m the wrong blood type.”

Roger laughs as he bounds down the steps, then whirls to grin up at you as he walks backwards. “Relax, Deaks will share! You’re type A, aren’t you John—?”

Roger’s heel slips and he plummets down the flight of stairs. He tumbles as the four of you shriek in horror and bolt after him, slams into the wall of the landing, ricochets off of it and plunges down the next flight as well. There’s blood, you think frenziedly as you descend, screaming Roger’s name. There’s blood all over the steps.

Roger, crumpled on the maroon-streaked landing, slowly unravels and groans. He glances down, appraises himself, then hammers his left fist against the concrete wall of the stairwell, roaring in raw agony and rage. “No no no no no no!”

“Roger—!”

And then you see it.

Roger’s right arm hangs uselessly, unnaturally, his snapped radius bloody and splitting through the skin.

#but you can never leave fic #but you can never leave series #but you can never leave #roger taylor fic #roger taylor x reader #queen fic #queen fanfic #queen fanfiction

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kjngmis · 4 years

Note

# para lía heh

ENVÍA “#” Y CONOCE SOBRE EL TELÉFONO DE MI PERSONAJE:

Cuál es el nombre de tu personaje en el teléfono del mío.

baby lia🍼💖

Cuál es la foto de contacto de tu personaje en el teléfono del mío.

Cuál es el ringtone que mi personaje le ha puesto al tuyo

never grow up - taylor swift

Cuáles fueron los últimos tres mensajes que le envió mi personaje al tuyo.

🌹: lia pase lo que pase NO abras el clóset, te caerá toda mi ropa encima… prometo arreglarlo cuando llegue🌹: unnie va a la tienda, ¿quieres algo? 🌹: te llevaré pocky

#cuando se trata de las bebés de phoenix las protege más que nadie #además se siente nostálgica cuando las ve creciendo #de ahí la canción TT #jachvun

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objectivesubjectivity · 7 years

Photo

I was biking home from work, down a congested section of Jay street, when it occurred to me that I may have outgrown New Found Glory.

Lyrics like, “Some girls are crazy/Just listen to what I have to say about it,” don’t do much for me anymore. I’m in my 30s. I’m getting married. I care about health care and retirement accounts and CSAs and lowering my “bad” cholesterol. “Remember that time we realized ‘Thriller’ was our favorite song?” seems to be an iffy use of mental energy at best.

Maybe it was finally time to put a lid on my teenage obsession with emo music and its sub-genres and fully embrace my descent into James Taylor land.

But emo grows up as well.

This past week, I heard albums by Braid, Thursday, and Reggie & The Full Effect that have no reason to be as good as they are.

Braid’s “No Coast,” finds the technically savvy four piece crafting their most accessible and memorable material to date without ever sounding forced or too old for what they’re trying to accomplish. In fact, it rings with youthful energy and passion and provides a helpful heaping of hope that, as we age, we’ll never lose the wonder and awe of our childhood years.

Thursday’s, “No Devolución,” doesn’t emanate nostalgia the way that “No Coast,” does. However, on their sixth, and possibly final, album, Thursday shows some signs of age. Screams are replaced by melodies, distortion petals give way to delay, what was once aggression now feels like loss. This is not to say that those previous elements are not present, they are, just not as focal. They’re no longer “pulling this canvas from the wall,” they’re instead asking, “am I really there?” It’s only fitting that the final cry of the album is “Stay True.” This is a departure from what once was.

And then there’s Reggie. While Braid rekindled and Thursday questioned, James Dewees went into a full blown second childhood with “No Country for Old Musicians.” Songs about an Aztec warrior in space, Korean revenge films, breakfast, wizards, and the DMV litter this obnoxious masterpiece. But, as the title suggests, even James can’t escape the inevitable march of time. He sings about his “crazy fucking neighbors,” in North Hollywood and how if he “was in better shape, [he’d] run so far away.” His “hip-pop” persona “Floppy Disk-0,” a name so perfect that it literally sounds like what a dad might call himself if he was trying to be cool, yells, “we all can go to hell!” on the track “Who Needs Another Drank?” The line “this car is making me so sick/the kind of sick that only trains provide,” has no business being in a song by anyone under the age of 30. But for all this cynicism, there is something quite lovely about the track “37,” a song about how, on his 37th birthday, monsters invade his room and kidnap him to join their band in the monster universe. He might be approaching 40, but he’s still young enough to sing about monsters.

I cannot ignore the fact that all these albums start with the word, “No.” Thereis an inherent defiance, an unwillingness to settle, a battle against giving up. I listened to emo in high school and college because it spoke to the grand existential questions at that time in my life. It should then come as no surprise then, that for the bands that chose to march forward, that same impulse would compel me to listen today. And while the questions have changed, the reasons to listen have not.

Perhaps it was fitting that the final album I listened to last week was New Found Glory’s “Not Without A Fight.” I guess they’re growing up too.

What I listened to this week:

Top 100 contenders in bold.

Sex Pistols - Never Mind the Bollocks Here’s the Sex Pistols

The New Amsterdams - Never You Mind

Nirvana - Nevermind

R.E.M. - New Adventures in Hi-Fi

Tracy Chapman - New Beginning

Mos Def - The New Danger

New Found Glory - New Found Glory (PPP #46)

Gin Blossoms - New Miserable Experience

Dolour - New Old Friends

The Sheila Divine - New Parade

Gomez - A New Tide

Hot Water Music - The New What’s Next

Green Day - Nimrod

Braid - No Coast

Pearl Jam - No Code

Reggie & The Full Effect - No Country for Old Musicians

Uncle Tupelo - No Depression

Thursday - No Devolución

Hot Water Music - No Division

River City Rebels - No Good, No Time, No Pride

Q And Not U - No Kill No Beep Beep

The Cranberries - No Need to Argue

Superchunk - No Pocky For Kitty

The Spill Canvas - No Really, I’m Fine

Park - No Signal

The Stereo - No Traffic

Lucero - Nobody’s Darlings

Something Corporate - North

New Found Glory - Not Without A Fight

Albums listened to in total: 1,116

#New Found Glory #pop-punk #Pop punk #emo #age #aging #braid #Thursday #reggie & the full effect #reggie and the full effect #collections #obsessions #lists #top 100 #coabba

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3dnygma · 7 years

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I went to the German Comic Con in Frankfurt yesterday and got to meet Robin Lord Taylor, Sean Pertwee, Drew Powell and Erin Richards! I also got an autograph from Robin, got to talk to all four of them (gave them tiny presents!) and visited a Q&A panel with them. The amazing @robinllordtaylor was there too - and we spent almost the whole day together!! (with an irl friend of mine joining us)

As I have a lot to tell about this wonderful experience, you can read more under the cut! But to summarise: I had a great time and the Gotham cast is precious, as always.

The first event to take place was the picture with Robin. Julia (robinllordtaylor) and I met about half an hour before that. The photoshoot turned out to happen earlier than expected (because they changed the schedule) but we managed to get there in time! I asked Robin if I could “arrest” him on the picture and if he could make a shocked expression....well, this is how it turned out to be! Really happy with the result.

Next came the picture with Erin. I made the same pose with her but sadly blinked on the first picture. The photograph allowed me to take a second one (in which I didn’t blink!) but the person that was responsible for the digital version of the pictures put the wrong one on my USB stick. Still salty about that but, well, mistakes happen.

Then, we took our pictures with Sean. I made that certain pose with him because Alfred is a good character (so there’s no need to arrest him, haha)! The photoshoots were pretty rushed by the way, so I didn’t really get the chance to talk to them.

However, that all changed when we decided to get an autograph by Robin in-between Sean’s and Drew’s photoshoot! The line was pretty long and Robin was on lunch break while we joined the line - but the wait was worth it. I’m from Austria and prepared Mozartkugeln (a famous sweet over here) for all four of them. But I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to give them to the actors without buying an autograph, so I decided to gave all four of them to Robin.

Well, I got my autograph (you can see it here), told him how much I love Gotham and explained that I came to Germany from Austria. But, as I wanted to give him the sweets, he made a shocked expression and said “Why don’t you give it to them by yourself??” He then pointed at Drew (who was sitting right next to him) and went “Drew is so nice, he won’t harm you! You don’t have to be scared!! And Erin loves chocolate - go give it to them now!!” I swear, it was sooo funny and sweet of him to say that!

(My friend, who has seen the first episode of Gotham a few days ago, also got an autograph from him - and Julia did, too! Her interaction with him was absolutely beautiful, I really hope that she’s going to talk about that one on her own blog soon. It was so great to see her, and Robin’s, reaction! He also said “Tschüss!” (”bye” in german) after the autographs!)

After he was done with writing the autograph, I quickly followed his advice and went right to Drew, as there was currently no one getting an autograph from him. I explained that I had a tiny present for him, from my country, and he confessed that he really wants to go to Austria someday. “Do you live in Salzburg?” - “No, but I only live one hour away from it!” He was really happy about the sweets.

Erin’s line was a bit longer. She loved the sweets and already knew them - and she told me that she has already been in Salzburg! I asked her whether she visited Mozart’s birthplace to which she said yes! I also talked about Gotham with her and told her how awesome her white fur coat in the new promo looks. I was pretty shocked when she told me that the show had originally rented that coat, as it was worth “20 grand”. Sadly, Erin accidentally burned some of it - and they had to pay for the whole coat! I feel pretty sorry for her, despite it being a very interesting story.

I also gave Sean some Mozartkugeln. He knew them already and told me that he loves them! He also mentioned that his aunt and cousin live in Germany and that he visits them sometimes. It was wonderful getting the chance to talk to all of them and I’m very thankful for the staff for letting me do so without buying an autograph (the autographs are pretty expensive). One staff member even said “aww that’s so cute!

After the autographs session, we got our pictures with Drew. He was in another photo booth, that’s why the background of his picture is a bit different! His expression on that picture was amazing. Afterwards, I got the USB stick with the digital versions of the photos.

The last event was the Q&A panel. We arrived about 20 minutes earlier and got pretty normal seats (they were pretty narrow, though!). The panel was about half an hour long and they answered questions by the fans. I was the second one to ask a question! “What did you enjoy most about working with Ben McKenzie as a director?”, as I read that he directed one of the upcoming episodes and figured that it was a question that they would enjoy answering. A professional was filming the panel, so I really hope that it will be uploaded to YouTube soon, which is why I won’t state all of their answers here. The short version: They loved it because Ben, playing the main character on Gotham, knows that show better than anyone else and because he got the fellow actors well and gave them a lot of freedom for that episode! He will probably direct more episodes in the future.

I also met great cosplayers at that convention - Arkham!Ed and Arkham!Oswald were my faves - and bought some merch and comics. Here’s a list of what I bought:

Batgirl Vol. 1: The Batgirl of Burnside (for my cousin, she loves Batgirl but hasn’t read any comics so far)

LEGO figures of the Joker and Superman (for my other cousin, he’s four years old and obsessed with LEGO Batman)

Gotham City Sirens Vol. 9 and Vol. 10 (because they seem to have the Riddler in it - also: Harley, Selina and Ivy!!!)

a black t-shirt with the Riddler on it

Batman-themed badges (Batman, Catwoman, the Riddler and a question mark)

japanese pocky sticks (always wanted to try this snack)

a plush Ryuk and L keychain (they were in a Death Note happy bag)

Overall, I am so thankful for this experience! This was the first comic con that I ever went to and I’m so glad that it turned out to be a wonderful day. Julia was so nice and sweet irl, it was so cool having someone to talk about Gotham and the cast with irl! She is also going to meet the cast again in May (at the Heroes and Villains convention in Londn!) - including Cory, my favourite cast member. Weeks before the con, she offered me to give him a letter from me, so I wrote that one a few days ago and gave it to her yesterday!! She’ll deliver it to Cory and I’m so thankful for that!

The only criticism that I have with the convention is Frankfurt’s convention area itself. It was very hard to find the entrance to the con because everything there is so big and confusing (worse than any airport I’ve ever been to). Otherwise, I really enjoyed it! (sorry for writing so much about this!!)

#robin lord taylor #sean pertwee #drew po #erin richards #german comic con #robinllordtaylor #personal #gotham cast #gotham #frankfurt #german comic con frankfurt

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helloharani · 6 years

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In this post, I’ll be writing mainly about what happened after the robbery incident, and how I’m still confused about my path after Foundation.

Losing my phone has made me realise a lot of things. Mainly: Even though there are bad people in this world, there are good ones too.

The following Monday, I walked out of Public Speaking class and was greeted by Joe Hui, Cheng Mun and Amelia. They were holding a Sephora bag, and when I opened it, there was a Fenty lipgloss inside. I suppose they heard me complaining to Miki about how they took my makeup on the bus, but I was shocked because I really didn’t expect them to do this, especially because I practically ruined their trip. A few of them from their gang chipped in money to get that for me, I was really shaken.

To repay them, I bought every one who helped me a box of Pocky. I hope they appreciated it.

Besides that, Mia and Amreez bought me mascara and a really pretty rose lipstick.

I’m grateful for the presents, but I’m more grateful for the fact that they thought about me. I’m grateful for every single person who showed that they cared. Even Miki, who has always stuck to his “badass” image, called himself ugly and hugged me to make me feel better.

The first chat was a chat between Myra and I, where she was telling me about what she learnt after losing her phone. She takes it as a sign to move on, and I guess I can kinda see where she’s coming from. She lost her phone with all her high school memories, but that being said, it makes her not miss high school so much. I grieve the loss of my phone because it practically holds all of my college memories. Plus, my dad just bought me the phone back in June, and since we’re not wealthy, I feel bad for wasting his hard earned money. However, I blame myself fully, and I guess I just have to learn from this. And about the memories, I guess I have to learn how to let go, and reminisce with everything I have inside my daft head.

The second chat was between Yan and I. It’s study break right now, and instead of studying, I’ve been spending my time researching on where to study next year, or more particularly what to study. I’ve definitely decided that I want to pursue a career in art and design, but architecture is definitely out of the question because I’m terrible at physics (and Kak Shi told me not to). Whenever I watch my favourite Youtubers, it makes me sad because I can never study at the amazing places that they go to. I don’t have the money, nor do I have the talent. But yeah, that’s what I’ve been doing for the past few days. Watching videos about art portfolios that I wish I could spend time creating, dreaming of going to places like RISD, and being sad about not having the money or talent. There’s this girl on Instagram who is my age and is submitting her portfolio to go there, but she has the talent, money, and social media base that I could never conjure.

I think I’ve set my mind on the fact that I want to do graphic design, but a degree. However, based on my research I can hardly find any places that offer that, and places like Taylor’s and Inti only offer 3+0 programmes. I’m looking for a twin programme so that I still have the opportunity to go overseas and not break my parents’ bank accounts. But yeah. Do we even have the money to get good equipment for graphic design? I don’t think I could even buy a new laptop. Haih. Thinking about monetary problems really gives me a lot of sad migraines. The fact that I lost my phone makes it even worse, my dad just gave me 1200 bucks so I could buy Adrian’s iPhone 6. I guess if I were an only child, it wouldn’t be so bad. But I still have 5 other siblings, and all the money we have can’t be spent on my education. That would be selfish. I just hope we’ll all be okay.

Anyway, when I met up with Ru and Myra, they were talking about internships and all that jazz, you know, the stuff that I know nothing about. Talking about these things make me nervous, because it reminds me about how clueless I am about these kind of things. I’m planning to visit the career adviser at HELP, maybe I can get help there. After talking to Yan and Gyenice about this, I felt a little better. It’s funner when the things in life come unexpectedly. My life is already an adventure as it is, wouldn’t want it to end here huh? Hahah.

After finals, I’m planning to maybe get a part time job somewhere? Maybe as a waitress or something, just for some extra experience and cash. Eloise told me that there are good places in Bangsar, I might go and check them out. Other than that, during the holidays I’ll be practicing on my art, maybe I can get some good stuff out of me. I don’t really want to continue studying in January. I kinda wanna take some time off to spend time with the people I care about. As of now, a lot of my motivation is gone. I can’t study, and the motivation for me to keep playing piano and learn new songs has gone down the drain.

I hope everything will turn out okay.

I hope I’ll turn out okay.

6th December 2017

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instantdeerlover · 4 years

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28 NYC Restaurants Selling Groceries And Meal Kits added to Google Docs

28 NYC Restaurants Selling Groceries And Meal Kits

Even if you weren’t trying to avoid grocery stores right now, you’d be hard-pressed to find any that carry DIY nasi lemak sets, Korean barbecue kits, or high-quality pizza dough with fresh mozzarella. That’s part of what makes the spots on this guide so special. Restaurants all over the city have started offering kitchen essentials for delivery or pick-up to help stock your fridge, from coffee and frozen cannolis to wine and meal kits. Not only will you get delicious food, but you’ll also be helping to support local restaurants when they need you most.

For more ways to support the restaurant industry right now, you can find some ideas and resources here.

And for a full list of restaurants offering takeout and delivery, check out our constantly-updated directories, broken down by borough, like this one for Manhattan.

the spots Cote $ $ $ $ Korean in Flatiron $$$$ 16 W 22nd St 8.2 /10

If you have access to a grill or a trusty cast iron skillet (or even if you don’t), get a steak care package from Cote. You can email [email protected] to place your steak order, or you can check out their menu on Caviar for delivery or takeout that’s already cooked. Also, 3% of all their Caviar sales go to City Harvest.

Best Pizza $ $ $ $ Pizza in Williamsburg $$$$ 33 Havemeyer St 8.0 /10

People say great pizza is all about great ingredients. While it’s a convenient excuse when you pull something out of the oven that tastes like cardboard covered in marinara sauce, it’s also true. See for yourself by ordering a pizza pack from Best Pizza in Williamsburg, which includes uncooked dough, a pint of pizza sauce, and a pint of their housemade mozzarella.

Russ & Daughters At The Jewish Museum $$$$ 1109 5th Ave

No kitchen is ever complete without a dozen bagels, lox, and schmear - and Russ & Daughters can ship you supplies so you can make that pantry dream come true. Both LES and Navy Yard locations of Russ & Daughters are open for carryout, and their Jewish Museum store is on Caviar as well. They also ship nationwide, in case your cousin in Colorado currently has a void that can only be filled with a good bagel.

Hearth $ $ $ $ Italian in East Village $$$$ 403 E. 12th St. 7.9 /10

Hearth currently has a wine window at Brodo (their soup place in the neighborhood) where you can pick up bottles for 50% their usual prices. It’s a truly extensive collection with everything from Champagne to reds from the Canary Islands, as a bunch of whiskey and cognac. And, since you can’t survive off Champagne and whiskey alone, they’re also taking orders for broth to-go.

Nom Wah Nolita $ $ $ $ Chinese , Dim Sum in Nolita $$$$ 10 Kenmare St Not

Rated

Yet

In addition to their menu of dim sum available for pick-up and delivery, Nom Wah Nolita is also selling 1.5 pounds of frozen dumplings of all kinds. And, since they’re frozen, you should probably just stock up and consider buying yourself another freezer.

Cremini’s $ $ $ $ Italian in Brooklyn , Carroll Gardens $$$$ 521 Court St Not

Rated

Yet

Along with its regular menu of fried Italian snacks and filling entrees, Cremini’s is currently offering a bunch of different food and drink combinations that’ll cover you for multiple meals. They range from cheese and charcuterie plates, to huge spreads of fully prepared dishes, like fettuccine with bechamel, bacon cheeseburgers with fries, and Italian donuts filled with custard. Many of the specials include bottles of wine, so make sure to add a side of fried Ascolana olives filled with minced meats, which are some of our favorite drinking snacks around.

Ends Meat $ $ $ $ American , BBQ in Brooklyn , Sunset Park $$$$ 254 36th St Not

Rated

Yet

There has never been a better time to build beautiful sandwiches. If you live in Manhattan or Brooklyn and want great deli meat, bread, and olives, you can order from either Ends Meat location (call 929-306-6014 for Manhattan, and 718-801-8895 for Brooklyn). They’re available every day, just make sure to place your order before 4pm.

Sauce Pizzeria $$$$ 84 Rivington St

All three Sauce Pizzeria locations - LES, East Village, Herald Square - are offering frozen pies for delivery. You can get five cheese or vodka pies for $65, which will greatly enhance your options the next time you’re craving a couple slices first thing in the morning. When you order through Sauce’s website, you’ll have the option of adding on a plain pie that’ll be delivered to doctors and nurses at local hospitals, and if you choose to do so, Sauce will match it and donate another pie as well.

Gertie $ $ $ $ American in Williamsburg $$$$ 58 Marcy Ave 7.4 /10

With any order from Gertie in Williamsburg, you can opt to add a $30 care package that includes granola, a box of coffee, rolls of toilet paper, marbled rye bread, and of course, wine. Whether or not you spring for those basics, you should keep this place in mind for BECs, salad and sandwich combos, or a whole rotisserie chicken. They offer pickup and delivery on weekends from 4-8pm, and they have a takeout window every day except Monday where you can grab coffee and pastries from 10-3pm.

Wonder Bagels $ $ $ $ Bagels in Jersey City , New Jersey $$$$ 517 Jersey Ave Not

Rated

Yet

There are a bunch of locations of Wonder Bagels around Jersey City, all of which deliver until 3pm every day. Not only is it a good option if you want a pumpernickel bagel with Taylor Ham, egg, and cheese, but also if you want to stock up on the basics. You can order fresh bagels by the baker’s dozen, various types of cream cheese in bulk, and fresh-sliced lox by the pound.

Rezdôra $$$$ 27 E 20th St

Rezdora has pasta dinner kits available for pick-up, like a $40 package that includes dry pasta for two with your choice of pomodoro, duck ragu, and vegetarian mushroom ragu. They also have tiramisu, gelato, and their entire list of Northern Italian wines at retail value. To get yours, fill out the form on their website, then strategize the best walking route to Flatiron.

The Goods Mart $$$$ 189 Lafayette Street

You’re on your very last coffee filter, and you’re getting nervous. Know that The Goods Mart has their full inventory on Grubhub right now, meaning you can stock up on grocery and convenience items, as well as sandwiches from Alidoro. Their current hours are 9am-5pm on weekdays and 11am-4pm on Saturdays.

Lovely Day $ $ $ $ Thai in Nolita $$$$ 196 Elizabeth St 7.4 /10

In addition to their Thai food and entrees like steak and seared salmon, Lovely Day in Nolita is also selling a variety of groceries that you can order over your usual delivery platforms. They have a small selection of stuff ranging from baked beans to toilet paper, in addition to essentials such as Pocky and oat milk.

Gino's Pastry Shop $$$$ 580 E 187th St

When you’re tired of calling two bowls of Cap’n Crunch dessert, call Gino’s and place an order for pickup or delivery. This classic Italian bakery in Belmont is offering frozen desserts, like cheesecakes, pastries, and DIY cannolis with cream and shells.

Da Toscano $ $ $ $ Italian in Greenwich Village $$$$ 24 Minetta Ln Not

Rated

Yet

An entire quart of bolognese ragu probably sounds pretty good right now. You can get one from West Village Italian spot Da Toscano, in addition to their a la carte menu and a spaghetti kit that’ll feed four people. Call 212-606-4054 for pickup or go online.

Kossar's Bialys $$$$ 367 Grand St

If you want to freshen your sad-looking pantry (or your freezer) - know that you can order bagels for pick-up or delivery from Kossars on the LES. Get a bagel sandwich, and throw in a few dozen bialys while you’re at it.

Atoboy $ $ $ $ Korean in Flatiron $$$$ 43 E 28th St 7.6 /10

Not exactly groceries, but Atoboy is currently selling meal kits (in addition to individual meals) that feed anywhere from two to six people. They come with things like rice, seaweed soup, gochujang chicken, Spanish mackerel, and you can order online.

Dig Inn $$$$ 2884 Broadway

With locations all around the city and a large variety of customizable bowls with stuff like salmon and charred broccoli, Dig Inn sure is endearingly convenient. Right now, they also have large format meals, eggs, milk, and farmers boxes with a bunch of vegetables. Order from their website, and try to place your order before the farmers boxes sell out for the day.

Sticky's Finger Joint $$$$ 21 Maiden Ln

Sticky’s has a bunch of locations in lower Manhattan (and one in Brooklyn), and they specialize in chicken fingers. If you just pictured a basket of chicken fingers in front of you, congratulations, you passed the test. Order online, and get the four-person family meal if you’d like a fridge full of chicken.

Junzi Kitchen $$$$ 2896 Broadway

Junzi Kitchen (with three locations in Greenwich Village, Midtown, and Morningside Heights) is also offering family-style meals that come with your choice of things like shallot rice, tofu, lion’s head meatballs, and pickled red cabbage. They come with anywhere from 3-10 servings, and you can also get some chili oil and Chinese chips to supplement. Order directly from their website.

Órale! Mexican Kitchen $$$$ 341 Grove St

In addition to its regular menu of tacos and burritos, Orale is offering family-size portions of guacamole and DIY margarita kits, which include a handle of tequila, a bunch of citrus mix, and agave. Their Jersey City and Hoboken locations are open for pickup or delivery from 3-8:30pm every day except Monday.

Harry's Italian Pizza Bar $$$$ 225 Murray St

Down in Battery Park, Harry’s Italian has wine, jars of pasta sauce, and family-style meals for pickup and delivery. To fill your fridge with penne vodka and chicken parm, visit their website.

Foxface $ $ $ $ Sandwiches in East Village $$$$ 80 Saint Marks Pl Not

Rated

Yet

On Fridays and Saturdays, Foxface in the East Village is currently selling DIY pasta kits (carbonara, for example) that feed 4-5 people. Check their Instagram to see what’s available or go to their website.

La Ñapa $$$$ 656 Nostrand Ave

La Napa is typically a tapas restaurant in Crown Heights - but now they’re pretty much a full-on grocery store. They’re selling everything from kale, garlic, and celery to eggs, manchego, and jamon serrano, and you browse the selection (pickup only) at lanapamarket.com.

Samwon Garden $ $ $ $ Korean in Midtown $$$$ 37 W 32nd St Not

Rated

Yet

Samwon Garden, in Koreatown, is offering something called a “Care Package” for delivery. It consists of prime short rib, pork belly, several stews, and a bunch of sides, it costs $178.95, and it will most likely make your week. But if you don’t want to spend that much, this Korean barbecue spot also has a huge a la carte menu (and plenty of soju).

Miss Korea $ $ $ $ Korean in Koreatown $$$$ 10 W 32nd St Fl 3 #1 Not

Rated

Yet

Another spot in Koreatown currently open, Miss Korea has a few different large-format dinner sets (with dishes like bulgogi, squid, and kimchi pancakes) in addition to a bunch of a la carte stuff and plenty of Korean barbecue. Now’s your chance to fill your fridge with meat.

Colonia Verde $ $ $ $ Latin in Brooklyn , Fort Greene $$$$ 219 Dekalb Ave. 6.0 /10

Over in Fort Greene, Colonia Verde has transformed its operation into something called Colonia Go. They’re doing deliveries of stuff like tortillas, frozen arepas, several kinds of steak, and plenty of vegetables and sides, with a $50 minimum. Check out their website to see the selection.

Clinton Hall $ $ $ $ Financial District $$$$ 90 Washington St

While they’re not the kind of groceries you can eat, board games are very useful to have on-hand right now. Clinton Hall understands that, which is why their FiDi and Herald Square locations are offering Jenga, Sorry, Operation, and a bunch of other games for delivery, along with growlers of beer, bottles of liquor, and very good bar food.

via The Infatuation Feed https://www.theinfatuation.com/new-york/guides/nyc-restaurants-selling-groceries-and-meal-kits Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://trello.com/userhuongsen

Created April 3, 2020 at 03:31AM /huong sen View Google Doc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xa6sRugRZk4MDSyctcqusGYBv1lXYkrF

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