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taizi · 1 year

Note

If you’d like another Rise prompt, maybe something about Donnie’s battleshell? If that’s too vague, maybe its origins, or maybe what Splinter thinks about it?

this is also set in the human splinter au <3

When Donatello was a baby, Yoshi didn’t worry quite as much about his soft shell. He and his brothers were all the same sort of fragile, questionable mutation and its potential effects aside, and Yoshi panicked over each of them an equal amount.

They played hard. They always wanted to climb and run and tumble. Yoshi is inclined to blame the ooze that psychotic goat-man alchemist pumped them full of, because blaming him is neat and comfortable and makes Yoshi feel warm inside.

But Yoshi has also spent a not-insignificant amount of his fortune on parenting books and magazine subscriptions, and according to the experts, children are just tiny crazy people who will run at full-speed into a wall multiple times for no reason.

Which is fine. Yoshi has been a papa for almost four years now and it’s quite possible that he’ll never want to be anything else ever again for as long as he lives. His boys have secured their place in his heart and no amount of broken windows or crayon-scribbled walls or gutted kitchen appliances (???) will change that.

The problem is that Donatello’s shell doesn’t afford him the same protection that his brothers’ do. He’s as fast and strong as the other three, and easily twice as smart, but he’s just not as hardy.

Yoshi has no idea what he would do without his credit card and his talent manager-turned-reluctant-godmother. Between the two of them, he has an answer for everything.

“I don’t want to,” Donatello announces before Yoshi has even opened his mouth.

“You don’t want to go roller-skating?” he says, affecting a tone of complete surprise. It causes Donatello’s chubby face to fold into an epic pout, which is adorable, which makes up for how frustrating he can be when he digs his little heels in about something.

“No, papa, I want to go. But I don’t want to wear that dum-dum thing.”

“Your Auntie Hala is going to cry for days and days when I tell her how much you hate the present she got you,” Yoshi tells him solemnly.

Donatello considers this. Then he says, “Don’t tell her.”

Ah, logic Yoshi can’t actually find fault with. He never would have guessed he’d spend his early thirties losing so many arguments with a turtle toddler.

“You are wise beyond your years,” he says, wondering what it will look like when Donatello is a teenager, and whether or not Yoshi will survive it.

The ‘dum-dum thing’ in question is a modified back brace, meant for children with spinal disorders. Yoshi is pretty sure this qualifies. The reason Donatello hates it so much is the modifications Yoshi made to it; namely, the memory foam cover for his leathery carapace. It’s bulky and it slows him down and he hates falling behind the other three. Lately he’s taken to sitting out of their games because he would rather tinker by himself than wear the brace.

Yoshi is a little worried about that. He hasn’t come up with a way to make everyone happy yet, and he’s losing sleep trying to figure it out.

Leonardo pokes his head through the doorway. “Papa you said we were going,” he whines. “How come we’re not?”

“Negotiations have broken down,” Yoshi says, kneading his forehead with his palm.

“Dunno what that is,” Leonardo declares and visibly puts it out of his mind as not his problem. “Don-don, come on. We’re gonna skate.”

“No,” Donatello declares. His mouth is screwed up, brow furrowed, fully ready to be a little monster about it. “I don’t want to go if I have to wear the dumb fake shell.”

Leonardo tips his head to one side, considering this. It’s no secret to his brothers that Donatello has no fondness for the brace. This usually culminates in one or three of them helping him to escape it, and then hiding it somewhere stupid for Yoshi to find like the world’s worst Easter Egg hunt.

“We’re twins,” Leonardo says with all the unyielding certainty of a schoolteacher discussing matters with an obstinate child. “So we have to share. I’ll wear it, and then Donnie will wear it, and then it’s fair.”

Somehow—Yoshi can’t believe this, but somehow the logic goes to work. Donatello’s expression shifts from mullish to thoughtful. The most stubborn little treasure in Yoshi’s entire life is giving ground.

“It’s fair,” he agrees. He and Leonardo turn their big brown eyes up to Yoshi expectantly.

Honestly, Yoshi can’t believe he’s not going to have to wrestle Donatello into the brace for once in their lives. He’s a little embarrassed his second youngest child thought of this neat little solution before him. It costs him absolutely nothing to agree, and he straps the brace onto Leonardo’s back instead. When they get to the rink, one that Yoshi has unapologetically rented out for the afternoon so his kids can play freely, they’ll switch, and Donatello will wear it while the four of them turn inline skating into a contact sport.

And nearly a decade down the road, when Donatello is building advanced technology the way other kids his age are building blanket forts out of the couch cushions and Yoshi’s best sheets (re: his siblings) and he has long-since traded the brace for an armored shell of his own design, he goes from absolutely refusing to put it on to pretty much never letting anyone see him without it, ever, or else.

Because no son of Yoshi’s would understand the idea of a happy middle ground. It’s all or nothing, go big or go home in this house.

This is when the twin thing continues to save the day.

“Oh Telloooooooo,” Leonardo sing-songs, audible throughout the entire house, “Shell Time!”

“Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Donatello replies, but it’s a token resistance at best.

And when Yoshi wanders that way to check on things a few minutes later, he’ll find the boys in the garage. Donatello is chattering a-mile-a-minute at Raphael about the computer he’s building, and his older brother is nodding along agreeably even though he clearly isn’t absorbing a single word. Leonardo is sprawled on his plastron, head pillowed on his folded arms, letting Michelangelo go to town with glittery stickers.

Donatello’s soft shell will be covered by nothing but the blanket Raphael tossed over his shoulders, and Leonardo will wear the battle shell just long enough for his twin to relax his spine and sit without pain—because fair is fair.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #lou jitsu #hamato yoshi #hamato donatello #ratdad #disaster twins #my writing #iwillkeepfighting #tmnt fic #prompt #human splinter au

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cloudiyum · 5 months

Text

1: Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed? Closed of course

2: Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from hotel? Yes I doo, I want to donate them to homeless shelters.

3: Do you sleep with your sheets tucked in or out? Tucked in, I love being tucked

4: Have you ever stolen a street sign before? No but I've stolen many a cone

5: Do you like to use post-it notes? I do at work

6: Do you cut out coupons but then never use them? I don't come across any coupons in my life right now

7: Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of a bees? BEAR. ABSOLUTELY A BEAR. I would gladly be mauled to death

8: Do you have freckles? Not freckles but "beauty spots" as my mum calls them

9: Do you always smile for pictures? Nooo I tend to avoid that cuz my lips turn into 2 dimensional objects

10: What is your biggest pet peeve? Untidyness. Leaving the babywipe lid open. Dirty fridges.

11: Do you ever count your steps when you walk? No I don't!

12: Have you ever peed in the woods? Yeeees

13: What about pooped in the woods? No I once went camping for a week and didn't need to because my body knew It'd have to be in a hole.

14: Do you ever dance even if theres no music playing? Not really, maybe if I'm eating rly tasty food

15: Do you chew your pens and pencils? Nope

16: How many people have you slept with this week? Zero the fuck

17: What size is your bed? Queen.. slay

18: What is your Song of the week? LIKE A GIRL DOES PEACH PRC

19: Is it okay for guys to wear pink? Absofuckinglutely. I'd love my Henry to dye his hair pink if he would

20: Do you still watch cartoons? Not really but family guy yes

21: Whats your least favorite movie? OMG. DUNE!! FUCK DUNE. my god. worst/boring movie I've ever seen in my entire life.

22: Where would you bury hidden treasure if you had some? Bury? In dirt.. what else can you bury treasure in?

23: If you’re a girl, bra size? If you’re a guy, pants size? 10D I think, last time I got sized was when I was 14

24: What do you dip a chicken nugget in? Mustard or Sweet and Sour sauce. Mostly nothing though

25: What is your favorite food? Salmon Sashimi <3 <3 <3

26: What movies could you watch over and over and still love? TWILIGHT <3 <3 <3

27: Last person you kissed/kissed you? My Henry on the 7th November 2023

28: Were you ever a boy/girl scout? I did scouts when I was like 8 or 9 and met this cute girl named Chloe and we were such good friends at camp. I think she gave me one of her lip glosses or something. I wish I could find her again

29: Would you ever strip or pose nude in a magazine? Only if my nips n bits were covered with an emoji or something

30: When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper? I don't remember but it definitely would've been to henry. Or today to pippa for work

31: Can you change the oil on a car? Nope but I can fill my tires with air :)

32: Ever gotten a speeding ticket? Only once I think

33: Ever ran out of gas? Never I would die

34: Favorite kind of sandwich? Banana & Honey or Cucumber & Salt <3 <3

35: Best thing to eat for breakfast? Bacon, egg & bbq sauce toasted sandwich or poached eggs on toast

36: What is your usual bedtime? I aim for 10:30 but sometimes its midnight

37: Are you lazy? No, I value my well deserved resting time

38: When you were a kid, what did you dress up as for Halloween? :( I wasn't allowed

39: What is your Chinese astrological sign? Ox I think

40: Are you horny? No I am not, that is very rare

41: Do you have any magazine subscriptions? Nope

42: Which are better legos or lincoln logs? the fuck are lincoln logs

43: Are you stubborn? Noo my mind can be changed very easily

44: Who is better…Leno or Letterman? Crystal meth santa claus <3

45: Ever watch soap operas? I like the big bang theory sue me

46: Are you afraid of heights? I would say not

47: Do you sing in the car? YEA I DO VERRRRY LOUDLY

48: Do you sing in the shower? On occasion

49: Do you dance in the car? I wiggle

50: Ever used a gun? Nooo

51: Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer? When I was 9 years old

52: Do you think musicals are cheesy? Some of them.

53: Is Christmas stressful? Not really

54: Ever eat a pierogi? Yess with Henry & Greg in San Francisco <3

55: Favorite type of fruit pie? Cherry or blueberry

56: Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid? A cleaner only cuz mum once said they get paid a lot HAHA

57: Do you believe in ghosts? Yea friendly ones only

58: Ever have a Deja-vu feeling? I have a specific scenario I see every time I get it. I'm swinging back on the blue classroom chair in my year 7 classroom. The big windows are to the left and I'm at the front left of my class. I think Mrs Ralph or the other one was teaching. Every time.

59: Take a vitamin daily? No but I would if the gummies weren't so expensive and had enough nutrition in them

60: Wear slippers? no

61: Wear a bath robe? nono makes me look like an idiot

62: What do you wear to bed? The only thing I want to wear to bed for the rest of my life is the avocado toast oodie sleeping shirt that henry got me. It's so fucking ridiculously comfortable you have no idea

63: First concert? Die Antwoord in 2015 but if that doesn't count then apparently mum took me to see Hi-5 when I was little, I don't remember it tho

64: Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart? Walmart if I'm in America, but in Australia I like Kmart for everything and Target for clothes and socks

65: Nike or Adidas? I don't really give a fuck to be honest but Nike aesthetic is more pleasing to me

66: Cheetos Or Fritos? I've never had fritos but I enjoy flamin hot cheetos

67: Peanuts or Sunflower seeds? Neither, those textures are off putting to me. Too gritty

68: Ever hear of the group Tres Bien? No is that French?

69: Ever take dance lessons? Yeees I did, at Denise Hollins Dance Company. I started when I was 3 or 4 and did Teddy Bears Picnic. I stopped and didn't start again til I was 8 turning 9. 2006 Jazz (I want Candy & Footloose) (Must've skipped 2007) 2008 - Tap (Here It Goes Again & Jump n Jive) Jazz (Moving thru Time & Get Up and Dance) Acrobats (Jump Shout Boogie) Finale (Move Shake Drop) 2009 - Jazz (Backstreets Back & Hocus Pocus) Intermediate Acrobats (Batman) Finale (Zombie) 2010 - (my last year forever) Advanced Acrobats - Gold :)

70: Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing? I picture Henry as a professional DJ <3

71: Can you curl your tongue? YA

72: Ever won a spelling bee? We don't have those here

73: Have you ever cried because you were so happy? Nooop

74: Own any record albums? A thank u next single and peach prc

75: Own a record player? nope

76: Regularly burn incense? Occasionally

77: Ever been in love? yessss henry

78: Who would you like to see in concert? ARIANA GRANDE

79: What was the last concert you saw? Peach PRC <3

80: Hot tea or cold tea? Cold!

81: Tea or coffee? I like the taste of tea better but I like the effects of coffee

82: Sugar or snickerdoodles? Don't know what that is

83: Can you swim well? Very well, I won champion girl at my primary school once

84: Can you hold your breath without holding your nose? Of course.. I don't think anyone can't do this

85: Are you patient? I try to be yes

86: DJ or band, at a wedding? hmmmmmmm dj

87: Ever won a contest? Not a contest but a wax kit and some free goodies from norris for guessing the correct number hehe

88: Ever have plastic surgery? Nope only lip fillers 4 times. Dissolves way too quick for me tho

89: Which are better black or green olives? omg fuck I love both so much. my fave is marinated green olives

90: Can you knit or crochet? I do not

91: Best room for a fireplace? Living room I guess

92: Do you want to get married? I am :) already. married. hehe

93: If married, how long have you been married? um one month and four days

94: Who was your HS crush? Luke Ramljak <3

95: Do you cry and throw a fit until you get your own way? No that doesn't work

96: Do you have kids? I do not

97: Do you want kids? I think so. I'm very undecided still. Blairs so cute and I don't think my baby will be that cute hahaha

98: Whats your favorite color? Pppppink duh

99: Do you miss anyone right now? henry henry and henry even tho its only been 11 days

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freezethebeez · 2 years

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I feel like catalyst ranboo would go into bakeries and delis and street food stalls that are open at night just for the good smells. I feel like they have a subscription to a cookery magazine and would surf pinterest tags of recipes and artisanal cookery if they had a phone. I feel like they buy cupcakes in order to support local businesses and end up tossing them out after they get stale and moldy from sitting in the fridge for so long.

Its like making a sim of yourself.

on a happier note, I think clingyduo learn the fact that blood can be an egg substitute and make ranboo ice creams and fudges but with blood.

awww i love the idea of ranboo going out to delis and bakeries and just taking in all the smells. oh, and forget buying the cupcakes, he just drops a stack of cash in the tip jar and goes on with his day, leaving no explanation besides "i really like the way your cupcakes smell☺️"

and clingyduo making him ice cream and fudge i will SOB that's so sweet. adding that to my collection of things that i may or may not reference/write in future chapters

#people asking me things #catalyst

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nxrthmizu · 3 years

Text

| stay the night | Matsukawa Issei

»»——⍟——««

song | Toothbrush - DNCE

pairing | Matsukawa Issei x Reader

warning(s) | Implied sexual intercourse

words | 1.6k

author’s note | Hello its late but ayeeee also not beta/proof-read so it probably sucks but umm yes I’ll come back to edit this later its late and I’m tired

»»——⍟——««

You were like quicksand.

The more he struggled, the faster he sunk. But who said he didn’t want to succumb to you?

“Going somewhere?” His drowsy drawl filled the air between the two of you, your movements freezing as if someone had pressed the pause button on you. You were in the middle of collecting your discarded clothes, tugging on your crumpled T-shirt that had seen better days.

Your words caught in your throat, like water in a river when it crashed face-into-face with a concrete dam. “I...”

The night was dark outside, which wasn’t a surprise seeing as it read 2am on his bedside clock. Even in the darkness, you could make out the sharp lines of his toned body, a result of his years of volleyball and continuos exercise. And even in the darkness, you could see the adorable sleepy smile he was wearing. (God, why did he have to be so good-looking???)

“You know, baby you don’t have to rush.” He said smoothly, as if he didn’t just catch you hurrying away from a one-night stand. Well, it wasn’t exactly a one-night stand, the two of you had gotten... Intimate before. “You could leave a toothbrush at my place.”

How could he resist from admiring you? The full moon outside highlighted the etherealness of your skin, painting you as a goddess whose beauty was unrivalled in all four corners of the world. The white sheet you clung around yourself only accented his image of you as a divine being, one that he had been blessed to meet.

“I... Don’t think that’d be a good idea.” Your nervous laugh made him frown. Why were you so nervous anyway? Weren’t you so pliant and submissive to his touch only a couple hours ago?

“There’s someone else, isn’t there?” He interrupted, his sharp eyes catching on your numerous giveaways. Your hands were shaking, you avoided eye contact, and you stuttered. Yes, maybe he hadn’t really gotten to know you outside his bedroom, but he knew how to recognise the signs of someone concealing the whole truth from him.

A sigh slid out from your lips. “Okay, look. My parents... Engaged me to someone, alright?” A breath of air escaped your mouth in a huff. “I don’t want to get married to him, but... My parents don’t want to die without seeing me in a wedding dress. Which is stupid, but they’re not getting any younger.”

“What, are you sharing a bed with him, too?” He snorted, trying his best to hold back the splash of jealousy that sparked across his tone.

You surveyed him carefully, your eyes trailing over his toned muscles. “... No, but it just... Feels wrong if I spend the night with someone else.” Reluctantly, you admitted why you’d never stay, confessing the guilt that plunged into your stomach like a heavy rock.

“Hold on, let’s rewind this a little...” Shaking his head, he held his hand up to stop you from talking. “This... Guy that you’re marrying... Do you like him at all?”

The lip bite was enough of an answer for him.

“You don’t.” He concluded simply, watching you struggle for a response.

“Well-! He’s... Nice, but a little of a pushover, and... Very reliant on his mother...” You noted with a wince. “Actually, screw that, I don’t see how its’ going to work out. His mom literally treats him like a five-year-old and he acts like he’s five-years-old.”

A scoff rang in Issei’s bedroom, rumbling from the depths of his throat to the vibrations in your ear drum. “You deserve someone better than that.”

“Are you volunteering?”

“If I am, will you stay the night?”

»»——⍟——««

Issei had never understood when Hanamaki explained that waking up next to someone you loved was the best feeling in the world. At least, he never understood until the morning sun trickled in through the slits of the curtains and he got a glimpse of your (hair colour) hair, swung over the pearl-coloured pillows.

Oh, and you were a blanket hogger.

Not that he minded. The nights were always too hot for him and he normally ended up kicking them off anyway. You, on the other hand, were wrapped up like a dumpling.

He froze when you stirred, moving in your sleep until you cuddled up next to him, tucking your chin into his chest with a satisfied hum. He didn’t dare move. Everything in him stopped momentarily. What if his heart beat too loud and he woke you up? (If he could’ve stopped his heartbeat he would).

It was in this way he gradually fell back asleep, your head tucked in his chest and his breathing eventually lining up with your steady ones. His phone rang once when his coworker texted to ask if he was okay, he responded with a quick ‘I’m sick’ and typed the shortest leave-requesting-email he had ever written in his entire life, trying to get the letters right without waking you up.

By the time he woke up, it was past 9am, and the sun was mercilessly beating down on him at that point. A yawn coursed through his body before he realised something wrong.

You were missing.

To your credit, you had stayed the night. Surely he couldn’t have expected you to stay in the morning, too?

“You’re awake.”

If he got a heart attack at that moment, Issei could die a happy man. As far as he could tell, you were dressed in only one of his t-shirts, the garment overflowing from your smaller shoulder width to your mid-thighs. He was also pretty sure his jaw dropped and he gaped at you for a decent amount of time, which would be embarrassing but really, could you blame him?

“I could get used to seeing you like this every morning.” He commented once he had recovered from his state of partial shock.

Your hair cascaded over your neck, and it was in that moment that Issei found out you were one of those people that could roll out of bed with your hair looking messy but in a perfect way. He would never change the position of a single strand, even if he was held at gunpoint. Why would anyone change perfection, anyway?

“I took the liberty of using your kitchen.” You replied with a smile. “Wash up and come out to eat. I took the day off.”

When Issei said he had never washed up that quickly in his entire life before, he truly meant it. He didn’t even run that fast when he missed his alarm and remembered there was a practice match that morning.

“About what I said last night.” He begin speaking while washing up the dishes, the soap bubbles eavesdropping on your conversation rather blatantly. You were leaning against the wall, your eyes judgemental as you eyed the (lack of) content in his fridge. “About volunteering.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’ll probably just divorce him after a year or something.”

“No, it’s not fine. If you marry him I swear I will attend the wedding and I will raise my hand when the priest says ‘Speak now or forever hold your peace’.” He threatened, waving around the plate you put the fried eggs on. “I’ll marry you.”

“I’m sorry?”

Issei shot you a weird look. “Why are you sorry?”

“I’m sor- Did you say you’ll marry me?” Bewilderment painted your tone and your flummoxed expression, eyes as wide as the saucers Issei just finished washing.

“Uh... Yeah? You don’t want to marry him, I don’t want you to marry him, so you can marry me instead.” He explained, as if it was as simple as 1 + 1. “Your parents get to see you in a wedding dress.”

You blinked a couple times just to make sure you weren’t delusional. “How on Earth did you manage to come to that conclusion?”

“I don’t want you to marry anyone but me!” He defended, putting down the plate before he broke something and got the two of you injured by the sharp edges that would no doubt result from a broken plate. “Consider this with me for a moment. I would never pressure you into doing anything, you’re free to go anywhere you want as long as you’re safe and I know where you are, and uh...” He fumbled around for the last reason. “And you can use the coupons for free massages that I get from my volleyball magazine subscription.”

“Is that how you try and convince someone to marry you?”

“Wait, I have more reasons!”

“Such as?”

“I... Can make really nice coffee?” He suggested hopefully. “Oh, uh, I like kids. And... I’ll definitely put a lot of effort into planning dates. Plus I’m not a pushover, and I’m not mama’s boy.” He paused for a moment before adding: “That’s not to say I’m not nice to my mom. I transfer checks to her every month, I call her every Monday night, and I visit her on every second week of the month.”

You stared at him quietly. “... Then what do you suggest we do? I can’t just call my parents and go: ‘Hey, I was sleeping with this guy while you engaged me with this boy I didn’t even want to marry, can I marry the person I was sleeping with instead?’”

“Or, I could call your parents.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“Do you have any better ideas?”

“Seeing as I just agreed to marry you, I don’t think any ideas I have at the moment would be rational.”

“I’m the one who just asked you to marry me, aren’t my ideas even more irrational?”

»»——⍟——««

when Issei asks you to stay the night and you end up agreeing to marry him instead,,, on a separate note please don’t agree to marry a guy impulsively okay, look at what happened to Anna from Frozen

taglist. @mrs-kuroojinguji @procrastination-lady @drippinginhoneyandgold @shoyosun @aka-a-shii @shibayamasbae @churochuu @seijohlogy @dearsukuna @whootwhoot

send an ask to be either @owlywrites or @cadenceh2o to be added to Cadowly’s Songfic December taglist!

Kageyama’s fic is supposed to come out tomorrow :’) I haven’t even started writing it

#matsukawa issei #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa fluff #matsukawa issei x y/n #mattsun #aoba johsai x reader #seijoh x reader #aoba johsai #seijoh #aoba johsai third years #cady writesss «#cadowly's songfic december

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 4 years

Text

Seduction Wasn’t in the Contract: Two

Bucky stared at the amber liquid in his glass. It was the prefect blend of flavors. A hint of smoke. And it tasted like something he could have only dreamed of once upon a time.

Back when you were his.

When you were sitting on his knee in the office of a shitty little night club he bought, sipping from a bottle of cheap tequila and doodling designs for a wedding gown. Your dream dress. One he was going to pay for you to make one day. With all the crystals and bead work your little heart desired.

But you weren’t his now.

And you weren’t on his lap. Squirming and giggling. You were. Probably. Putting your son to bed.

A son.

He was a cute kid. He’d grow up handsome, probably. The kind of guy that someone wouldn’t need to struggle to get a date. And, with you as his ma, he was probably charming. And sarcastic. And funny. And that made him smile.

Even as something hurt in his chest.

That kid could have been his. His baby. Him in that delivery room with you. Him trying to balance the books after the two of you had had a day out shopping. Shaking his head over the pile of receipts. And still, feeling happy hearing the two of you chatter as you put clothes away and plan coordinating outfits to wear to dinner. He looked at the picture he kept.

The one he saved in his wallet. Even after all this time and he sighed. He had to talk to you. He knew he did. Because if Nat had kept this secret for you, Nat was going to tell you he knew. She was gonna protect you. And Nicco. From everyone. Even from him.

_________

Your phone rang and you looked up from your sketch book, putting your reading glasses up on top of your head. “What’s up Nat?”

“Is Nicco in bed?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “I just tucked him in about 45 minutes ago... So. Unless he’d reading my fashion magazines under the covers again he should be asleep.”

“Y/N,-” she said slowly, “I need you to sit down.”

“Nat-”

“Bucky knows,” she blurted out, “He’s in Paris and he knows.”

“How-”

“Just listen,” she said softly, “He came out there tryna get a wedding date. Becca’s getting married next month. And he never told his mom you guys split. I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was coming. I- I- I-” She trailed off and took a shaky breath.

“Tasha,” you tell her softly, “It’s okay. I’ll- I’ll handle it... I don’t know how but. It’s been nine years. I- Maybe Nicco can dress him better.”

That makes Natasha laugh softly and she sighs, “That would be a sight. That Asshole still dresses like he’s broke. And buys ugly ties. Nicco would have a field day.”

______

“Mom?”

You half turn, cup of coffee in hand and smile, “Hey, Nicco, you hungry?”

“Where’s Irina?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

Your nanny/house keeper who worked through the week helping you look after Nicco. To keep the house tidy and give you less to worry about. “Running late, baby,” you assure him, “But she’s coming back today.”

He nods and grabs himself a banana out of the basket, “Should I start taking collagen?” he mused, “I think I saw a wrinkle.”

“Nicco,” you sigh, “Baby. You’re 8.”

“Good skin care starts on the inside, Mom.” He gives your coffee cup a meaningful look and sighs.

“Keep it up, mister,” you scold playfully, “And I’ll cancel your magazine subscriptions.”

He scowls at you but accepts the plate of eggs and toast. “Are you going to the studio today?”

You half shrug, “Maybe. I haven’t decided if I really need to be there today or not.”

He nods and turns his attention to breakfast, giving you some time to breathe. For all his pretensions at being a creature of beauty, Nicco, bless him, was obnoxiously perceptive and you’d been hoping he wouldn’t notice that you hadn’t slept. You really didn’t want to talk about it.

Because you weren’t sure how to explain Bucky.

Bucky wasn’t his dad. Not remotely. His dad, Nicco knew, was better for him out of his life. His dad was a self destructive asshole. Sure, he was sexy. Sure, it was a fun weekend. But you never wanted to do that much coke ever again. That entire weekend was a haze of sweat and sex and white powder. You weren’t even sure you’d eaten... Not that Nicco knew that part. Eight year olds didn’t need to know the whole truth. Even if they were old enough to ask.

But Bucky... for now, keeping the separate was probably for the best. You didn’t want Nicco getting confused. Or getting his hopes up. He wanted a family. One that looked like his friends’ families. He was old enough to want that. To notice that there weren’t a whole lot of men around. And at 8, maybe that wasn’t such a big deal. But soon? Very soon. He wasn’t going to want to tell you about everything anymore.

“Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever get lonely?”

You curse yourself internally and smile a little, “Nah,” you tell him, ruffling his hair, “I got you... And that’s all I need for now, dearest.”

You pass by him and kiss his head lovingly as you go, “I’m gonna go get ready,” you tell him, “Make sure you’re ready for school when Irina gets here. You can’t be late again.”

“Are you going to wear your new dress?” he called.

“I was thinking the linen pants and a taktop.”

“Ew, mom. No. Not again.”

“What, they’re comfortable,” you protest.

“I’m going to burn them,” he threatened.

“Nicco Raphael, don’t you dare!”

He grinned at you and you stuck your tongue out at him as you headed up the stairs to go through your closet. Still. You couldn’t be sure he was wrong. The Linen Pants were always cool. And comfortable. But if Bucky was going to barge back into your life, you needed armor. You needed to make the bastard squirm.

And that meant sex.

Because to men? Sex was power. And you had to make him believe that you had. All. Of. it. And leave no room for argument.

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wherearemyglassesbro · 4 years

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fruk but england moves into a new house thats haunted by super fucking annoying ghost france, who will possess England and make him do little things (changing the channel, forces him to flip the eggs so they dont burn, etc) and everytime england asks him how he died, france has an entirely new story ("heartattack" "mauled by bears" "suffocated on a grape") but secretly was just always a ghost but he wants to keep the mystery alive

This is Francis’s house and hhs house alone!! He’s spooked every mortal out of his house within the last century. His house is from the 1800s. He didn’t die there or anything he just likes the hoshse so he was like “aight it’s mine now”

Arthur got a really good deal on the house since it was so old and no one would even check it out. He bought it after one visit! He isn’t afraid of ghosts so all of the folk stories he was told didnt scare him, he just found it funny

Francis was in physical pain as Arthur moved his stuff in. His floral couch is hideous. His closet is full of dull greens and khaki colored clothes with no flair. And he had the audacity to paint the kitchen yellow! Yellow! Francis couldn’t even float around there without gagging. His precious house was being ruined and of course he had to do something about it!

Arthur blacked out for an hour and when he came to he found himself painting the kitchen white. It had blue wallpaper before he painted it yellow- he thought the yellow was neat- why was he painting..? He didn’t rememeber painting. He wasn’t in paint clothes, there were no tarps on the ground...Arthur was somewhat shocked but just excused it as being tired. Turns out the kitchen looked better white so he finished the project and went along with his day

Arthur watches a lot of detective shows on channel 25. Francis knows that cooking shows are on 37. He’ll possess him long enough to change the channel and then sit down beside him to watch. “What the...stupid Telly” Art changes the channel back only to be possessed once again to put the cooking shows back on. He finally shuts the TV off and leaves Francis to stew on the ugly couch

Finally he can’t take this anymore!! He’s going mad!! Nkt Arthur, Francis is! He can’t take it! The ugly couches, the bad taste in entertainment, the hideous clothes, the Beatles!!! Francis finally shows himself and makes a big show out of it “Arthur Kirkland! This house belongs to me! Get your stuff and leave before I make you!” “Make me? You can’t make me-“ one minute Arthurs talking and the next he finds himself halfway through packing a suitcase “EXCUSE YOU!??? Ghost?!!?! What the fuck??”

Of course these two argue for over an hour about this. Arthur states that he will not leave and then Francis makes him do something stupid. First he made him pack the suitcase, then he made him pluck one eyebrow, then he made him put on a suit to look ‘presentable’ and finally he covered him in flour. Arthur kept punching the air like an idiot. Stupid englishman you can’t punch a ghost! He is thoroughly embarassed because he’s been bested by a dead man

Their rivalry runs deep. Arthur keeps making changes to the house that he knows Francis won’t like. He takes the carpet out of the livingroom and replaces it with hardwood floors. He gets rid of the rose wallpaper in the guest room, he sells the gaudy chandeliers and replaces them with practical fixtures, he gets a new oven which apparently upset Francis for the sole reason that ‘you’ll ruin that thing! You wasted $500! You’ll burn it and my house to the ground you fool!’

He kinda enjoys having him around cause Arthur is just the worst at making friends. Fran’s just interesting to listen to “So how’d you die again?” “Guillotine” “What? I thought you died in the 1700s?” “Mh, maybe” “What do you mean maybe??” “I dunno. I also died by poison, I chugged it and it was a great way to go out” “What is wrong with you?” “You know another fun way to go? Death by roller coaster” “You’re full of shit, Bonnefoy” “What about the time I swam with dolphins and drowned” “You’re too conceited to get your hair wet”

^^ “Wanna know how I really died?” “I suppose. Youve never told the truth before-“ “Got choked too hard” “...I really hate talking to you”

Francis snoops in Arthurs junk mail and hides it. So when Arthurs being more of an ass than usual he possesses him and forces him to sign up for magazine subscriptions. He gets six swimsuit model magazines every month now and Francis howls with laughter every time “Look at that one! She kinda looks like me” “Shut up, pervert, I know you got these for yourself!” “I signed you up for them because you’ve been awfully lonely lately I think you could use a girlfr-“ “Oh my god shut up!!!”

Francis possesses Arthur when he cooks which really annoys him “So?? I was making a grilled cheese?? Care to explain why I now have a whole rotisserie chicken in the oven???” “‘Grilled cheese’ is not dinner! And chicken sounded good” “You can’t eat??!!!” “I can smell it!!!”

Just a lotta arguing and old people shenanigans, it is what it is 👻👻

#aph #hetalia #headcanons #aph france #aph england #fruk #hetalia headcanons #ask away #ask away!#always up for hc requests

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katkonstant · 4 years

Text

Harrow the Ninth: Act 1 Analysis - Local Bone Lady Newly Single and Ready for Mental Breakdown

I am so scared! so confused! and so turned on by the sepulchered mystery of Harrow the Ninth’s Act 1! And because it’s quarantine time, it’s organizational mapping and near-obsessive theorizing time baby.

I’ll warn you: this got LONG.

Spoilers galore.

This post is to try and organize my own thoughts as well as preserve in time that I don’t know shit when HTN finally hits. All to answer the big question: What in the necro-hell is going on? Here’s what we know as fact:

Gideon the Ninth was about Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Reverend Daughter and Badass Emo Princess, and her not hugged enough but grinning through the pain sword lesbian cavalier, Gideon Nav. A catalogue of their romp of death in Canaan House.

Harrow the Ninth is currently cataloguing two things: (1) Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Reverend Daughter and Mentally Unstable Concussion, and her cavalier, Ortus Nigenad and their guided tour of Canaan House. AND (2) Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Baby Lyctor, aboard His Imperial and Unending Magic School Bus.

Similar to @Siadea‘s wonderful post (x), I am all aboard the Timeline Fuckery Theory (TFT). Operating under the TFT, I will refer to our cast of characters accordingly. To summarize the TFT, the major point is thus:

In the prologue of Harrow, I think the Harrowhark of Gideon the Ninth (hereby Harrow1) settled in, swan dove into the River, somehow backstroked in time to when she woke up on the Emperor’s ship, and then she resurfaced (with Ianthe’s help), stripped of all memory&detection involving Keyword:Gideon.

Gideon [ORTUS]

It appears Harrow1 has programmed Harrow2 with a find+replace formula for ‘Gideon’ and replacing it with ‘Ortus’ on a pure, sensory input level. I have NO idea how she (or something else) did this. Prologue Ianthe Tridentarius telling Harrow, “I know what you’ve done, and I know how to reverse it” makes me think Harrow did this to herself.

It scrubs the past as well as the present. Proof - (1) When Harrow2 gets the Emperor’s invitation to Canaan House, we gather from context that Ortus asks her if she’s considered someone else. Only we read it as Ortus saying, “have you considered ORTUS NIGENAD?” AND THEN THE SCENE STARTS OVER, but rewound to moments before. Like a glitch in the Matrix; (2) The Emperor’s lips distort when he says “Ortus Nigenad did not die for nothing” and is confused when Harrow2 says it back to him; (3) When the Emperor later says the name of the third Lyctor ‘Ortus’, Harrow2 starts bleeding from the ears and passes out.....We’ll get to him in a sec.

The three syllables Prologue Harrow dies on: Could be ‘Gideon’ and the mark of her successful mindflaying from recognizing the word. Could also be ‘Alecto’. Hell, could even be ‘Nigenad’. Inconclusive.

The Chilly Weirdo Harrow Has the Hots For (alternatively, who tf are you?)

The Lady of the Locked Tomb is appearing and disappearing in Harrow2′s mind, both at her recall of Canaan House and in her (current?) stay with the Emperor.

She has Griddle’s Eyes. As we’re familiar with the lyctors, we know that when their cavs are “eaten”, necromancers’ eyes change to their cavalier’s colors. OR the Lady has simply taken on Griddle’s eyes to put Harrow2 at ease.

She has the voice of who Harrow2 needs to hear. We’ve heard the Lady sound like Pelleamena (Harrow’s mommy dearest), Crux, and Aiglamene (Captain of the Ninth guard). Both of these are people who loved Harrow1.

These characteristics ^ lead me to believe that the Lady can see Harrow1′s obsession with her and is either Manipulating Harrow2 by manufacturing her voice and eyes, or is genuinely trying to love Harrow2 in return. (She may have been present for Harrow’s entire life. See my Ch.3**)

What does she want from Harrow2? --> I think, without support or proof, that the Lady wants to Rise Again (as villains entombed are wont to do). As she doesn’t have a corporeal form, she’ll likely need Harrow’s help. Underlying idea being: the Emperor dies when his Unholy Other Half returns. It would be a little contrived to have the “beautiful lady revealed to be the big bad” device be the GTN and the HTN twist but we’ll see.

Interesting point: The Lady doesn’t like His Holy Frumpyness & Co. “Lie. Lie now.” She’s either protecting herself further down the line, or the Lady thinks that Mercy would have harmed Harrow2 because of this info. It’s possible this is the same interest if she needs Harrow’s help to free her.

Now Let’s Talk about Swords

AKA the sexiest part of this dissertation.

Harrow the Concussed is carrying Griddle’s Two hander. Not just any two hander. It is in fact and distinctly, Griddle’s sword. This is supported by (1) Harrow2 was given the sword by the Emperor “as a gesture” implying he knows Griddle and the sword’s significance to Harrow1. And (2) The severe physical reactions Harrow2 has to the sword’s loathing. In GTN Harrow1 mentioned to Griddle, “I have always felt like that sword hates me”. (this in and of itself is mystifying but I’ve got bigger occult fish to fry)

Either Griddle’s Sword or Cytherea is alive. The fade to black of Harrow rekilling Cytherea is a mystery within a Christmas light tangle of other mysteries and I’m not fucking with it. BUT. There are Five lifeforms aboard the ship that traversed the River: Mercymorn, the Emperor, Ianthe, and Harrow. Harrow2 tells us that the Body/the Lady isn’t in sight. That leaves inanimate objects: Cytherea’s body, or the two hander that hates Harrow.

Harrow2, the Concussed, is not carrying a rapier. Only in the Prologue does Harrow have a rapier on her hip. Ortus the Alternate cav carries a rapier. See the next theory for why this is significant.

The Events of Canaan House Two are Not Real.

These are my weakest theories. They’re all weak, but these ones are chief weaklings. The Time Fuckery Theory’s biggest snag is ‘Canaan House: What’s Real?’, and I think only the events with Harrow2 on the ship with Ianthe are actually occurring.

I think someone is soul/spirit guiding Harrow2 on this Canaan House Round II to show her something. Proof: (1) The repeated “Is this how it happened?”/”This isn’t how it happened.” Clearly indicate that this IS a repeated experience for Harrow, and not the original. (2) Ortus glitches a bit, looks at Harrow2 and says “You never did have much of an imagination.” Someone who knows Harrow1 made him say this. I think. (3) If we count who possibly could spirit-guide Harrow2 on this quest, we have to find the denominator candidates: the only people who knew Harrow1 at Canaan House and at Drearburh are Gideon, and Harrow1 herself. And - if the Lady really has been following her around, the Lady of the Locked Tomb. (4) This theory cannot account for the strobing red egg hallucinations on paper Harrow2 is being delivered.

Second explanation: it’s all happening in Harrow’s head, and Harrow1 is the spirit guide. In support: There is a surprising amount of explanation and character depth from Ortus. I believe Harrow1 knows Ortus enough from childhood to be able to project him onto Harrow2 this way.

Third explanation: Because the people Harrow2 is interacting with are all dead, it’s microscopically possible Harrow2 is tripping some soul-shrooms in the River and having the souls of Canaan House teach her something via flashback. In support: Prologue Harrow says five pairs of eyes close to submerge into the River, but hers would not open again. Incredibly vague, but could mean she was going to be spending a significant amount of time in the River. This theory is unlikely, as Harrow is a bone adept. Souls are squishy and freaky to her. Unlikely also from what we saw of the River. Ie; the River is an inhospitable predator which ripped Cassiopea apart and scares the hell out of Mercy and the Emperor. Not an ideal destination spirit-walk vacation spot. Plus, the only clear reasoning we get from Harrow about why she’s descending into the River is because she knows she’s going to die (although she tells Ianthe she has no plans to die)

Things to Note: (1) Teacher immediately spills the Sleeper beans, lets the laboratory cat out of the bag, and unmasks the key mystery. I think who/whatever is guiding Harrow2 around makes this happen legitimately just to save time. (2) Harrow2 is learning things from Ortus, Teacher, Abigail Pent, etc that Harrow1 and Gideon didn’t know.

If the Events of Canaan House Round Two ARE Real.

If the Great Value Canaan House timeline is actually happening and are physically influential, the implications are fucking vast, because now we’re considering the multiverse of how time works. I am not about to get into that shit because I do (contrary to this post’s existence’s suggestion) have a life, and I don’t feel like rededicating it to the theory of relativity and time dilation.

The biggest question though would then become: How would events have unfolded if Ortus had gone to Canaan House and not Griddle? The only conclusion to that is: everyone would be dead and Cytherea would be alive. Which does not jive with the happenings of Emperor Frizzle’s Magic NecroBus and Harrow2 (many are alive, and Cytherea is dead). It could be that Cytherea is, in fact, alive and needs re-killing via the Act 1 end of Harrow2 stabbing her. I can’t say.

What does freak me out about Canaan2 is Harrow herself.

Not her insanity, mind you, but the fact that Harrow2 is hilarious. She’s always been acidic and funny, but Harrow2 is crude and funny. This is very, very bad. She makes a remark about the term ‘bone frenzy’ that Ortus says only someone who’d prefer ‘prurient magazines’ would think of. Can anyone guess who might be more incline than Harrow to prefer prurient magazines? Say a messy sword necrolesbian with a subscription to Frontline Titties of the Fifth?

Harrow2 is also not chasing Palamedes Sextus around the grounds of Canaan House in a near-suicidal race to Lyctorhood.

Not only is she not working herself to death, but Harrow is doing the opposite: she is socializing. With the Fourth and Fifth! She’s caustic and rude while she does it, but she’s still spending time around them for whatever reason.

All these behaviors are Griddle behaviors and they make. me. nervous.

Is Harrow2 Actually a Lyctor?

Harrow’s Dramatis Personae section lists ‘Harrowhark the First’ with a huge and glaring and delightful redacted section below her name. If someone truly had the time, I’m sure they could sleuth out the layers of the censorship and find out what it says. However, it’s plain that the underlying text does NOT say ‘Gideon Nav, her cavalier’. So we’re left with more questions - who or what died to give Harrow her power? .....As a point of interest, it looks like the original writing has been overlaid with even more text.

Ortus’ eyes were black - the same shade as Harrow’s. Harrow2 wouldn’t be able to confirm or deny that she had successfully eaten her Canaan Redux cavalier.

In the prologue, Harrow1 calls herself “half a lychtor” implying that either 1) she’s simply not trained, or 2) something went wrong in her lyctorhood creation

And then we have this weird Chapter 3** internal narration of Harrow2′s childhood without Griddle. And she’s.. absolutely bananas. She grows up a ghoulish, lonely, nut job. But she still says she had committed the indelible sin halfway. That she hadn’t been able to choke him (Ortus) down.

Her manifestations of power don’t add up. First, Ianthe (undisputedly a lyctor) shoves Babs’ knife through her hand and has no problem with it, or healing right up. Harrow2... isn’t so lucky. Prologue Harrow is also in the process of dying. Conversely, while in the River, Mercymorn dismisses the idea that Harrow2 could possibly be using theorems and freaks out when she discovers Harrow can. Conclusion being: Either Harrow2 is incredible weak, or incredibly powerful but untrained, or she is Something Else Entirely*.

Harrow2 isn’t experiencing lyctoral indigestion. Cytherea tells Ianthe right after she eats Babs, “I can see him fighting you. Mine [meaning her cav, Loveday] came willingly, and it still hurt for a century.” We know Babs still fights Ianthe in HTN, as her eyes are usually swapping shades. It’s not something Harrow1 or 2 mentions as a problem.

* My working theory is that Harrow2 is kind of lyctor-ish and being protected by the Lady, the Sword, or Griddle (who might be incarnate in either).

Side note: It might be too far into the weeds to wonder about but I want to know what pregnancy would do to a lyctor. If we follow the Die Young but Beautiful and Powerful practices of the Seventh House, Dulcinea’s family uses their crappy genes as internal combustion engines: cells dying within them allow a perpetual source of thanergy. On the opposite end of that same theory, a necromancer constantly producing thalergy (life and cell growth) should therefore be significantly weaker, right?

This^ is only relevant when considering the other theory:

Papa Gideon [ORTUS] knocked up a fellow Lyctor.

While it would explain the creepy “egg” texts Harrow2 is hallucinating, as well as why Cytherea spared Griddle multiple times at Canaan house, I doubt this theory for a few reasons:

Of the available lyctors able to carry children, there is Cassiopeia, Anastasia, Mercymorn, and Cytherea. We only know Mercy and Cytherea.

It’s strongly implied that Cytherea and her cav, Loveday, were in a relationship. Since Loveday is technically still inside of Cytherea, I doubt she wanted to date around.

The Emperor strives to present the Lyctors as siblings. This a) props himself up as the holy and imperial papa bear to guide and govern them, b) perpetuates the eternal and indestructible bond of siblings, and c) kills any idea of inter-lyctoral hooking up. Can you even imagine the destruction a Jersey Shore: Unholy Power bar fight would wreak?

I’m not fully convinced Lyctor Gideon [ORTUS] is Griddle’s father. While it would make sense in terms of stature (Lyctor G/O is a single rippling muscle and Griddle’s biceps are... noteworthy), Silas Octakiseron told Gideon that her mother had hair just the same shade as her (source: Sister Glaurica’s toiling soul). Could be that Griddle’s Mom’s soul screaming “Gideon!” was her calling for the Lyctor, her brother/other relation.

However, I DO believe Griddle is... more than. She wasn’t killed by the nerve gas, and Harrow2′s eyes are not Griddle Gold.

As a second side note, Lyctor Gideon [ORTUS]’s cav was named Pyrrha Dve. This is exciting to me because of my slutty fandom tendencies and because a name like ‘Pyrrha’ begs for Tragic Backstory, and I’m here for it. Also, I want more interaction with Augustine as he’s who Ianthe says “won’t come save” Harrow. Eye emoji.

Alecto

As far as I’m aware, there are no solid leads on who or what Alecto the Ninth is. Casting about in wildly unwarranted guesswork, I can throw a few baseless theories out;

Alecto is Griddle’s truer name (possibly birth name or even what she’s called if when she is brought back);

Alecto is the Lady of the Locked Tomb;

Alecto is the Emperor’s Cav. In Harrow’s ‘Dramatis Personae’, The Emperor is listed as well as his lyctors and their cavaliers. Except, the Emperor does not have a deceased cav. He has “A.L.”, his guardian. A.L. =Alecto, mayhaps?;

Alecto, a combination of (2) and (3). The Lady is supposedly the Emperor’s death and who he could not kill twice. If she were his ‘guardian’ she would be a) more powerful than him, and b) someone he was emotionally attached to which he couldn’t bring himself to kill again.

Things I Cannot and Refuse to Account For:

Ianthe Tridetarius became a sewn tongue as a favor for Harrow1. Wtf.

Ortus Nigenad’s self-insert cavalier epic of Matthias Nonius. Wtf.

**The entirety of Chapter 3 is either true or it’s not. Wtf was that shit.

The psychotic “You lied”/”Egg” texts Harrow2 is hallucinating. Wtf.

This is.... all probably incorrect, and I applaud you if you made it this far. I could keep going, the material of Act 1 is that dense. But in answer to The Great Big WTF that is Harrow Act 1 - my theory is simple.

TLDR; I think Harrowhark Nonagesimus is tearing down the laws of the universe to bring back Gideon the Ninth.

#honestly this is incredibly confusing and i don't super blame the dnf folks on goodreads #but im not a bitch so i guess i'm in it for the long haul #obviously #but i get that this much questioning goes past mystery and into bad plot for some #you really just have to trust tamsyn muir to make it all worth it and hope she ties it all together in a coherent way #which i trust her to do #a mistake really if we're going by what she did to us all at the end of GTN but hey #it doesnt count as bury your gays bc we never found a body right?#the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #harrow act one #Tumblr ATE my formatting so sorry for the blocks of text!#SPOILERS

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brajeshupadhyay · 4 years

Quote

Two days before learning that she would lose her job, Lissa Gilliam spent hundreds of dollars online on baby products. A 37-year-old expectant mother, Ms. Gilliam had planned to ask local parents in Seattle for used strollers and secondhand onesies in a bid to reduce waste. But as the coronavirus pandemic ravaged the area, new items delivered in boxes seemed a safer bet. She figured she could afford the splurge, earning $50 an hour as a full-time contractor designing educational curriculums for a nonprofit. But then, on April 2, her employer slashed her hours and told her that her contract would end in early May — a few weeks before she is to give birth. Suddenly, like many others, Ms. Gilliam became hyperaware of her expenses. She and her husband, a high school physics teacher, now take a painful daily tally of their financial priorities: Is that $5 monthly web magazine subscription really necessary? How much does watering the garden cost? When will they need to tap their paltry savings? “We’re OK for now,” she said. “But the bottom may fall out from under us.” As millions of Americans lose jobs, take pay cuts, close businesses and absorb family members into their homes, they are being forced to rethink where their money goes. Even before the scramble for new jobs can begin, people are cajoling creditors, looking for gig work or simply cutting back to get through the first few disorienting weeks. “An economic shock like this could have a long-term impact on people who have traditionally felt like they were being cautious, that they weren’t profligate with their money, but didn’t have to worry about paying for rent or affording food,” said Stephanie Aaronson, the director of economic studies at the Brookings Institution. “They might have more debt, which will make it harder to spend in the future, or they might just feel less secure, which could boost savings and potentially dampen the recovery.” Ms. Gilliam and her husband are waiting for Washington State to make jobless benefits available to contractors through a federal assistance program, and hope to take advantage of a state program for maternity aid once their daughter is born. A $15,000 construction project planned for the rear of their house is on hold. They canceled their gym membership, their Hulu streaming service, multiple newspapers and even the Adobe Acrobat software that Ms. Gilliam uses for design work. On the whole, Ms. Aaronson said, household finances “were in relatively good condition as of six weeks ago — they were actually pretty healthy.” Now, she said, “a much broader swath of households are experiencing a complete loss of income compared to what we typically see in a recession.” Before the pandemic, Carol Cruz’s private health insurance plan cost her $840 a month — up from less than $500 four years ago. The bill ate up most of her $1,200 monthly paycheck, exceeding even the $600 monthly payment on the house she shares with her husband and their 17-year-old granddaughter in Tulare, Calif. On March 29, she was furloughed from her part-time job as a mental health therapist until at least the end of May. Other than the state unemployment benefits she hopes to receive soon, Ms. Cruz, 62, no longer has an income. So she got on the phone for at least three hours a day, asking for leniency from the health insurance provider, her mortgage lender and the credit union that holds the loan for her husband’s Chevrolet truck. All offered her more flexible terms, including 90-day grace periods and pay-what-you-can options. (Some creditors, she said, were less willing to negotiate.) The adjustments help keep the bills manageable, Ms. Cruz said. But her grocery costs have doubled, now that the price of eggs has soared and her granddaughter is no longer having free lunches at school. “I don’t know about my future,” Ms. Cruz said. “I’m not letting myself think about tomorrow, just about whether we have food today and money in the bank.” But some people, many of whom have never seriously budgeted, are now mapping out strict spending schedules for the next few months. After being furloughed in mid-March from her bartending and serving job at a Minneapolis concert hall, Krissy Calbert, 26, went from earning $300 in tips some nights to having no income as she waited for government aid. “It was two weeks of just panic — I was just going off the groceries I already had, trying to ration until money came in,” she said. “You get really creative. You eat little half meals, and you experiment with your seasonings and condiments to try to forget that you’re eating the same thing over and over.” Earlier this month, Ms. Calbert began receiving a weekly infusion of $1,100 from the state. She is now trying to reschedule when monthly bills are due so she can space out the payments: $600 for rent, $75 for her phone, up to $120 for utilities, $60 for streaming services, $200 for credit cards, plus other expenses. “I’m trying to get all of my credit card payments into the same week, so I can have a credit card week, a rent week, a phone week,” Ms. Calbert said. She has switched her grocery shopping from Target to Aldi, where, she said, she can afford to splurge on fresh produce and protein. Without health insurance, she is willing spend an extra $30 or $40 on fruits and vegetables in hopes of keeping her immune system strong, she said. “I can’t take the risk,” Ms. Calbert said. “A hospital bill right now would ruin me.” More than half of lower-income adults in the United States say they will struggle to pay bills this month, compared to a quarter of their middle-income counterparts and 11 percent of those in the upper-income tier, according to a survey of nearly 5,000 adults by Pew Research Center. Researchers defined a three-person household earning $37,500 to $112,600 annually as middle-income. Over all, more than half of those who expect a federal stimulus infusion will use most of the money to cover essential expenses, while one in five say they plan to save the funds. To create a financial buffer, many people are hunting for freelance or part-time work. Searches for work-from-home jobs rose 126 percent in March on FlexJobs, while traffic to the site has boomed 58 percent from a year ago. On Upwork, companies are looking for people to provide tech support for their homebound employees and to draft corporate messages about the coronavirus. Lonn Dugan, a digital marketing specialist in Sylvania, Ohio, has seen many clients scaling back their promotional efforts, such as one nonprofit that cut its budget by 90 percent after a major annual event was canceled. But another client, an agricultural supply company, commissioned a major website update, while a local mental health group wanted to ramp up its virtual support groups. The pressure on Mr. Dugan, 60, is intense. His workday is three hours longer than it used to be, between his existing clients and his attempts to drum up new business. He and his wife lost a third of their incomes; neither is eligible for government aid. “We’re completely overwhelmed by the shortfall. We can afford groceries and maybe the house and car payments, and that’s it,” he said. “But we’re not alone, and we’re focusing on acceptance as opposed to hand-wringing. We’re taking care of necessities, and that’s enough for right now.” Still, Mr. Dugan admits being stretched thin emotionally. He misses his wife, even though they are in the same house and she no longer needs to make a two-hour round-trip commute to her health care job. But the couple are so busy trying to stay afloat that they have stopped cooking fresh meals and turn instead to frozen dinners and fast food. “We just don’t have time,” he said. “We’re exhausted at the end of the day.” The post Finances – The New York Times appeared first on Sansaar Times.

http://sansaartimes.blogspot.com/2020/05/finances-new-york-times.html

#SEO #Local SEO training #daily news paper #daily news india #daily news newspaper #technology news a

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inexpensiveprogress · 5 years

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Eric Ravilious for The Cornhill

The Cornhill Magazine was founded by George Murray Smith in 1859, the first issue in January 1860. It continued until 1975. It was a literary journal with a selection of articles on diverse subjects and serialisations of new novels. From the days when news was slower to make the press and a book was a luxury commodity, these magazines were more of a social service than a magazine is today. Smith hoped to gain some of the same readership enjoyed by All the Year Round, a similar magazine owned by Charles Dickens, and he employed as editor William Thackeray, Dickens' great literary rival at the time.

The stories were often illustrated and it contained works from some of the foremost artists of the time including: George du Maurier, Edwin Landseer, Frederic Leighton, and John Everett Millais. Some of its subsequent editors included G. H. Lewes, Leslie Stephen, Ronald Gorell Barnes, James Payn, Peter Quennell and Leonard Huxley.

Eric Ravilious - Cornhill Title Block, 1932

When Ravilious first worked for the Cornhill Magazine it was 1932 with the wood engraving above, but in fact the first appearance of the block was in 1954 for the 1,000th issue of the magazine. Why it was not used isn’t clear but the magazine have used it a few times since for anniversaries and sometimes on the title pages.

Centenary Edition of the Cornhill magazine, 1954

Eric Ravilious - Wheatsheaf for The Cornhill, 1936

The wheat sheaf design was commissioned by a young publisher called John Arnaud Robin Grey ('Jock') Murray who was on the staff of the Cornhill Magazine at the time, before going on to publish the likes of John Betjeman, Dervla Murphy and Patrick Leigh Fermor.

The design was to be used as a New Year’s Card, likely for the staff. Details from a letter from Eric to Jock:

I am sending you a print and the block of your wheatsheaf. It is rather more like an Autumn List than a New Year’s card - but perhaps you won’t mind that, and anyway I enjoyed doing the job. I’ll see you tomorrow at the party. †

Eric Ravilious - An Athlete, 1933

The moon and sun design features in this work from 1933 for Fifty-Four Conceits a book by Martin Armstrong.

Eric Ravilious - Wheatsheaf for The Cornhill, 1936

In 1936 the block appears again but with the background washed out. Ravilious had painted printers white (for correcting errors in artworks) to edit out the background of the block. The printers then made the block into an electrotype metal block to print with for mass production with those areas cut out of the metal.

Eric Ravilious - Wheatsheaf that he sent to Jock Murray, painted out, 1936

Eric Ravilious - Title-page (Harvest Festival), Wood-engraving for the Cornhill Magazine, 1936

Ravilious was working on the Country Life Cookery Book at the same time as this commission for The Cornhill Magazine in the later part of 1936 and the project overlapped. So when one of the wood engravings was rejected by Jock Murray he used it on the cookery book. I thought this engraving was a bit surreal and over the top until I discovered a drawing of it below.

Eric Ravilious - Harvest Festival and Loaves, 1936

I’ve been drawing the bread table in the church - dead and fancy loaves, barley and corn, apples and eggs - and I thought it too beautiful not to place on record. ♠

Having been rejected for one job Ravilious cut away the framed backdrop of the table and submitted the wood-engraving below for the Cookery Book project instead.

Eric Ravilious - Title-page (Harvest Festival), Wood-engraving for the Country Life Cookery Book, 1937

Below is another woodblock based on the same image made for The Writings of Gilbert White of Selborne in 1938. It’s a new version and not an edited restrike. Likely cut in 1937 as the job was commissioned in May of that year and the book published in 1938.

Eric Ravilious - (Harvest Festival), Wood-engraving for The Writings of Gilbert White of Selborne in 1938

One of the commissions for The Cornhill Ravilious got was a Spring and Autumn woodblock. Below is the Spring wood-engraving looking like an explosion of nature with a Cuckoo in the centre.

Eric Ravilious - Cuckoo

The same Cuckoo can be seen in the Gilbert White book again on the woodcut in Volume II on p243. To the bottom left corner.

Eric Ravilious - Requirements of an Ornithologist, 1938

Eric Ravilious - Requirements of an Ornithologist, 1938 (detail)

Below is a woodcut for the four seasons. Holly for winter, bulb-flowers for spring, under a rose for summer and a selection of leaves for autumn.

Eric Ravilious - Four Seasons, 1932

In a letter from Ravilious to Jock Murray, 7 January 1932:

I am so glad you like the design for your Quarterly List here is the block with a few amendments. I have made the border lighter as you suggested, and I think that was a good idea. †

The wood engravings were used in black for subscription notices inside the magazine and in colour in Greetings Cards when one subscribed to the magazine as noted in the advert above and pictured below. The rose was presumably uppermost in the summer with warm red and the holly in the winter in a cool blue.

Cornhill Magazine Greetings Cards

Eric Ravilious - Complement Slip for the Cornhill Magazine using ‘Autumn Fruits’, 1936

Eric Ravilious - Autumn Fruits, 1936

The wood-engraving above, Autumn Fruits, would have been copied from the painting below, and in the printing process it appears reversed. Ravilious as we know was a great recycler of his work.

Eric Ravilious - Trugs with Fruit, 1936

The same trug appears in the wood engraving for the Country Life Cookery Book’s vignette ‘April’. The job came at the same time as the Cornhill Magazine commission. The watercolour of Trugs of Fruit above has the same trug in the ‘April’ wood engraving. The fruit is presumed to be full of redcurrants as it is also next to mint and a lamb.

Eric Ravilious - April, Wood-engraving for the Country Life Cookery Book, 1937

The cornucopia was also a popular device used by Ravilious and appears in the ‘Autumn Fruits’ wood-engraving / complement slip for Murray. It too was recycled into a wood engraving for the Country Life Cookery Book for ‘July’.

Eric Ravilious - July, Wood-engraving for the Country Life Cookery Book, 1937

♠ Eric Ravilious to Helen Binton - 6th October, 1936 † Jeremy Greenwood - Eric Ravilious Wood Engravings, 2008

#Eric Ravilious #great bardfield #cornhill magazine

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allysia · 6 years

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PZ One-Shot: Mrs Majeek

Summary: Rippen and Audry have a neighbor. A rather sweet, romance-loving neighbor. Oh no…

Based on a chat with @bluebbmuffin from loooong ago! All my love,girl! Story is nearly 2000 words, but it’s again under the cut!

Audry was more than thankful when she entered the warm lobby of her apartment building. She smelled of coffee and baked goods from her outing with Penn Zero and his team. Nearby, in the coffee shop she planned to work in when school let out, she was more than happy to help them study for the art final. It was impossible otherwise, and in her own words to Penn, “Just because I’m a villain doesn’t mean I always have to be a jerk.” The young woman only asked that they give the others a chance by sharing the information. They agreed.

Aside from that, she hadn’t had evening plans, so when the study session ran until nine o’clock, she wasn’t too surprised. Audry had a whole semester of untaught lessons to get through, and the four were easily derailed when they took breaks and began talking. Needless to say, it was more fun than working at times.

When Audry entered the lobby, she checked her mail first and foremost. She didn’t usually get personal letters, but the subscriptions she paid to randomly entertaining magazines were always a fun surprise. Especially when she received her favorite gossip magazines.

Audry grabbed the small stack of magazines that had accumulated over the last week or so, and turned to head upstairs. She waved to the doorman, Charles, as she always did. Before she could pass the front desk, she saw her neighbor, an old woman named Mrs. Majeek, who wore largely framed glasses, and always draped a knitted pink shawl over her shoulders. Audry smiled warmly at her, despite the cold feeling in her cheeks.

“Hello, Mrs. Majeek.” She said, “How are you this evening?” Sure, it was just a polite question, but part of her genuinely wanted to know. Even if that meant switching her speaking mannerisms to a more polite tone and phrase.

The old woman looked up slightly to fully get a view of Audry. Her eyes squinted almost permanently, but when she saw the woman, they brightened a bit. “Oh, Aubree, so good to see you.” She was prone to getting names wrong, but nobody took it to heart. She meant well. “I’m doing wonderfully, sweetie. I just discovered the joy of making slimes!” She laughed to herself, proud that she’d discovered a trend, “Bartleby got into the mix while I was away from it. Have you ever gotten slime out of a cat’s fur? I actually had to go and have his fur shaved off. Now he’s got a pair of bare legs in front.” She laughed a bit harder at this, closing her eyes.

Audry began to laugh as well. Something about her joy and ability to still follow some select trends was amusing and admirable, and her stories were vaguely reminiscent of Larry’s. Though, Mrs. Majeek’s never went on tangents. It was wonderful to get the two together though. It kept Larry out of Audry and Rippen’s hair and gave their neighbor another friend.

It was when her elderly neighbor began to cough from her laughter that Audry snapped back to the conversation. She placed a hand on her shawled shoulder, “Let’s not get too excited, Mrs. Majeek.” She said, jokingly, “Are you okay?”

Majeek chuckled lightly as her coughing began to cease, “I’m fine, Aubree, thank you.” She answered, looking back up to her young friend. Once again, as she thought of another point, her eyes brightened, “By the way, I saw you can Ripply in the hall yesterday.” She smiled, “How long have you two been together?”

It was an innocent enough question. Her relationship status...with Rippen? Audry was floored, and the only thing she could do was think.

We’re not dating. She thinks we’re together? Why would she think that? We were just walking in. We do that all the time. Well, she’s old, so I suppose living with someone means a relationship, but--

“Oh, sorry dear, my package just arrived.” Mrs Majeek gestured to the mailman with a box in his hand and a clipboard. He gave a nod in their direction as he waited by the door, “I’ll stop by soon, alright? I have a present for you both.” She finished talking and walked past the stunned woman. Immediately, Audry blurted out, “Okaythat’sfineseeyouthen” and rushed into the elevator. She was a deep red, and clutched her magazines to her body, mind racing with the interaction. It went on, over and over, and Audry couldn’t believe how shocked she’d been. Why didn’t I just clarify? It would have been so much easier to just-- The doors opened with a Ding! and she stepped out into the hall, found her door, and slammed it shut behind her.

On the couch, Rippen sat reading a newspaper with a cup of tea in his hand. He looked over to Audry immediately, raising a brow as he saw her blushing, panicked look.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, somewhat concerned, somewhat annoyed. It was a good mix for him.

“Rip, we gotta move.” Audry blurted, setting her magazine’s down on the kitchen island that was near the door. Rippen became even more confused.

“Why do we have to do that?” He asked, “I thought you liked this dump.”

Audry sighed, and began running her hands through a long piece of hair, “Mrs. Majeek thinks we’re dating.” She said, venturing over to the couch, and plopping down beside him. She leaned back into the cushion behind her, and let go of her hair, “I dunno what that old bat is on, but it’s gotta be strong.” She huffed.

Rippen set down his paper and tea on the coffee table beside him, and took a breath of his own. He knew too well what she meant. “Unfortunately, my dear, I’m aware.” He said, “I ran into her yesterday when I was bringing you upstairs.” He turned his body to face her. Audry shifter herself, pulling her legs up to sit crisscrossed on the couch, also turning to face him, “I thought I walked up here.” She countered, smirking, “You big softy.” The young woman punched his shoulder lightly. Rippen glared at her, just a bit, before she went on.

“Well, there’s not much we can do but wait for her to die.” He muttered.

“Rippen!” Audry’s voice raised in shock. Not that it was truly a surprise, she just wanted to convey how wrong that was.

“What?” Rippen shot back, “It’s not like we can correct her at this point. Did you correct her?” He crossed his arms. She hated when he did that. So smug.

“Well, no. I was pretty shell-shocked.” She raised her eyebrows for a change, “Why didn’t you correct her?” She crossed her own arms. He loved when she got worked up. It made her seem so much more like a villain.

“I was tired, Audry. Let’s just forget it, okay?” Rippen answered. He grabbed his things from the table, gesturing to another cup of tea that was still steaming. It was hers, she knew.

“Yeah…” She considered it as she blew the steam away, and took a sip. She got up to grab her magazines.

Rippen almost smirked again as he thought of how silly this all was, “Anyway, it’s not going to do any harm. She’s an old woman, what’s the worst she could do?”

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

Three days later, there was a knock at the door. Audry and Rippen were both in the kitchen at the time. The former was making herself some coffee for the morning, and the latter was preparing their breakfast, as he did on most mornings. It was after ten, but their mission was to begin at noon. Weekend times were so much earlier. So, they were in somewhat of a rush to get themselves together.

When the knock came from the front door, Rippen looked to Audry, who groaned and went to answer. Standing before her was the small old woman from next door with a small pink box labeled “For Ripply and Aubree.”

“Good morning, Aubree, dear.” Mrs Majeek said, beaming a denatured smile at her, “I was just combing through Bartleby’s fur and remembered my presents for you and Ripply.”

Audry took the box gently from her hands, “Oh, thank you, ma’am!” She said, “Would you like to come in for some coffee? Or some breakfast?”

Mrs Majeek shook her head, and her grey curls flew in a few directions, “No, no, I’m alright, deary. I’m already late for the Swap Meet uptown.” She looked up to the young woman, “But, you tell me if you like them, okay?”

“Will do, Mrs Majeek.” Audry shifted the box to one hand to give a thumbs up, and the old lady smiled one more time before waddling down the hall. Audry bumped the door closed with her hip. She set the box down on the kitchen island that partially divided the kitchen from the front door, and sat down at one of the stools.

“She’s sending gifts now?” Rippen asked, turning off the stove burner. He prepped two plates with toast on them, and turned to Audry for a moment, examining the box. He grunted in annoyance at the misspelling of their names. Mostly his.

“Oh, be quiet. It’s sweet.” Audry waved him off, taking the lid off the box before squeaking out, “Oh! Oh my goodness!” She looked completely mortified, taking out a large sweater with the word “Ripply’s Gal” printed on it in pink. She blushed, and took out the other as a concerned Rippen slid her a plate of scrambled eggs.

“Please tell me there isn’t--” He caught sight of the second sweater. Aubree’s Man. “--one for me….” He took a breath, contemplating what to do as he ran a hand over his spiky hair, “We can burn them.”

Audry shook her head, “No. She’ll want to see how they look on us eventually.” She shrugged, “Maybe every year. I can’t do that to an old woman.” She looked towards her room. “I can hide them in my closet?”

Rippen nodded, “Sounds like a plan.” He sipped a cup of black coffee, and Audry shuddered. How can he drink that crap?

“Alright. When she asks to see them, we’ll put them on and then immediately take them off and hid them, and nobody has to--”

SLAM

“Hey, you two! How is--OHMYGOSH are those sweaters?”

Rippen and Audry both exchanged a wide-eyed look as Larry burst through the door.

Oh no.

(To Be Continued?)

#PZPTH #Another oneshot #penn zero part time hero #Penn Zero #Rippen #Audry Doell #Rippdry #???

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londontoseoularchive · 6 years

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favours, part i.

➵ characters: leeteuk x reader ➵ genre: fluff ➵ wc: 2.9k ➵ part ii

➵ summary: finding out you’d be bringing work home as one of the artists you work with is your neighbour, it’s not as a bad as you had initially thought. look at that i made my own gif ➵ masterlist ➵ disclaimer

“Hello everyone,” you bowed deeply, “my name’s Y/N and I am proud and thankful to a new member of the choreography team here.”

The room of dancers and fellow choreographers was filled with applause, smiling faces all around, as you stood there trying to hide how incredibly nervous you were as you stood next to Sanghoon and Jaewon, who too clapped.

“She will be working alongside Rino for now,” Sanghoon said in her direction, “until she finds her feet in Seoul and around the building. Let’s all be welcoming to the new girl, alright?” The overwhelming response of ‘Yes!’ was so loud you almost lost your cool but were still grateful everyone was so welcoming.

Jumping at the opportunity when you saw an opening place at an entertainment label’s choreography team, you got a call to come to Seoul for the second phase of the job application; they wanted to see you dance. You and four other people were the candidates, having to get all negative thoughts of ‘they’re going to be so much better than me’ instantly out of you head, getting into your dancing zone immediately. That phase must have been impressive enough that you were called for an intensive interview, thinking it was more nerve-wracking than the dancing portion. Despite your nerves, you proceeded well under the pressure, exuding a confident persona. Fast approaching the return date of your trip back home, you had almost lost hope, until a ring of your phone late one evening determined your upcoming future. And now, here you were.

Here you were making your way to the apartment the company had offered to place you in, amid your first year goes well and you have already settled in, running away from the pelting spring rain.

“Oof!” you didn’t anticipate the amount of strength you put into opening the front entrance to your complex’s door, somewhat stumbling, as you tried to escape the impeding rain as quickly as possible. As soon as you stood up straight again, you straightened your long overcoat, looking around if someone had seen the moment that could have been potentially more embarrassing, seeing Mikyung at his usual post as the receptionist of the building. You smiled warmly at him, bowing respectfully as he did the same, reciprocating the warm affection.

“You’ve finally started receiving some mail, Miss,” he said, pointing to your designated mailbox.

“Oh, really? It can’t be my pay check yet, I haven’t been working in Seoul for a whole month yet,” you joked, making Mikyung chuckle slightly. “Maybe my magazine subscriptions.”

“What magazines are you into?”

“Oh, just a few,” you used your appropriate key to go into it, pulling out a couple of plastic-wrapped editions. “Some dance ones for work, Vogue because it’s a classic, that popular food one for me to drool over food I’ll never get to eat.”

He laughed harder this time around. “You really like to make fun, don’t you, Miss?”

“Have to be light-hearted in such a depressing world,” your eyes were down at the magazines in your hand, looking up to Mikyung with another smile.

“I wish more people had that mentality. Not everyone can be so positive. That neighbour of yours could use some cheering up…” The last phrase he said lower than the others, making him difficult to understand.

“Hm? My neighbour?”

“Ah, don’t worry,” Mikyung quickly tried to dismiss it. “He’s usually not here anyway. Have a lovely eveving, Miss.”

“You too, Mikyung,” you waved at him as you started to walk in the direction of the lifts to take you to the floor, one of the last ones in the building. Not your choice to be up so high, the company placing you in a posh district of the city you felt slightly out of place in, but with time you’d get accustomed to.

Since arriving, other than your new co-workers, the acquaintances you have made are either the ones you met during nights out, other dancers or helpful people like Mikyung. You understood that deep friendships would only occur over a long period of time, but that first friend to at least show you around still had not been established. Even though you sighed at the fact, you were patient and willing to wait.

Once you entered the lift, you started to question what Mikyung really meant by that last comment. What about your neighbour? Introductions were still on hold as, indeed like Mikyung said, they’re barely here, and so have never seen them in these first few weeks. But now you knew it was a man. And that’s as much information you have on him so far, not thinking Mikyung meant anything by the fact he needed some ‘cheering up’.

Exiting the lift, your attention returned to the magazines in your hands, skimming through them briefly as you walked. You reached your door, but your eyes were still down, reading the headline and the small features on the cover of Vogue Korea. You hadn’t noticed how long you had stood there, your awareness drifting because when you felt a sudden but rapid touch to your shoulder, you were very shaken by it.

“Holy s…” you yelped and turned in the direction of the presence that you now felt behind you. Your scared expression turned into a perplexing one as you looked up at the face of the person, swearing that you had seen that face before.

“Do you live here?” was his first question, his voice creating more links but still not the final picture. However, as you were trying to figure out his identity you couldn’t come up with a response until after a while.

“Oh! Uh…” although the answer was obvious to you, words still did not form, your heart still trying to control itself after the jump-scare you experienced, as well as trying to decipher the person. “Yes, I live here.”

He narrowed his eyes at you as if he didn’t believe you, scanning them from your head to your toe before finally stepping back from your personal space. With a turn of his heel, he was heading back to where he came from, from your understanding to the apartment door that was open that you saw from over his shoulder. “Hey, I’m your new neighbour!” you tried to say quickly before he had disappeared.

“It’s nice to meet you,” sure didn’t seem like it as he didn’t even turn his back to say so, still walking to his door.

“Are you—” you tried to speak again but this time, it was too late, his door had already slammed and had closed you out, leaving you confused yet again.

Carefully holding the stack of Tupperware under one hand, you used the other to ring the door’s bell, hearing the traditional tone. Placing both hands under the plastic boxes again, you waited. And waited. And waited for so long that you contemplated ringing the bell again. As you shifted your hands once again to press the bell, as your finger was just about to apply the pressure upon the button, the door quickly became unlocked, making you freeze in place.

The only part of you that moved were your eyes as he made himself shown, looking at you expressionless. “Can I help you?”

“Uh…” you slowly straightened up your body. “Sorry, I don’t think we’ve introduced ourselves. My name’s Y/N, I’m your new neighbour.” You thought carefully if you should call him by the name you thought he had. “I believe you’re Le—”

“Jungsoo,” he interjected. Holy shit, it was him.

“Ah, right,” you pretended not to know exactly who he was, but you nodded regardless. You didn’t speak again, as if you were waiting for him to talk. He wasn’t talking either. “Oh! I thought I’d bring you some dinner to, maybe, you know, have this as a peace offering. We could have gotten off on a better foot—” The hot tupperwares were suddenly taken from your hands, not snatched, but still some considerable force used. Your hands jolted at the quick movement, gagging over your words. “Uh, those were just a few things I made earlier if you—”

“Is this japchae?” he asked, trying to investigate the contents of the meal boxes.

“Uh, no, there are things there to make bulgogi bibimbap, the fried egg is at the top, right at the bottom is some kimchichigae you can also have—”

“Thanks.”

Just like earlier that day, the door was slammed closed, but this time close enough that the wind blew in your face. You released the breath you held, exhaling deeply. “You can return them when you’re finished…” you said loudly enough that you thought he would hear.

With a loud sigh, you cursed inwardly. Whether your placement was strategic or pure coincidence you didn’t know. But now there’s something for you to worry about: you’re living next to one of SM Entertainment’s artists.

The following day went as normal as a normal day could have went, arriving home at the usual time of a few minutes after eight, saying hello to Mikyung once you did so and checking your mail again. This time, there were actual letters in the mailbox. Opening one as you went up the lift to your floor, you walked almost without conscience but in a path that you knew would get you to your door, reading the letter that you had received. So, when you arrived at the door, you had almost missed the plastic boxes that were at your feet, only noticing them when you looked away from the piece of paper. You crouched down to pick them up, looking at the yellow sticky note attached to it. Thank you for the dinner :), it read, the signature on it being autograph-like, barely tangible. The initials that you could make out, however, read SJ.

This made you wonder for how much longer, one, you could do without telling him who you were, and two, not seeing him at work, walking into your kitchen and placing the Tupperware boxes down on the counter. In fact, you could have sworn Sanghoon said something about a Super Junior comeback soon, but as you were working with Rino and the upcoming comebacks for the summer and fall, this wasn’t your calling. However, what were you supposed to do? Duck and hide every time you saw him coming your way? At work and at home? What if he thought you were a stalker? What if he tells everyone that too? Fuck! These senseless moments of panic were recurring, until you’d come up with a solution soon after. Just tell him. But he keeps closing the door at every encounter. Another meal, perhaps? No, the one was enough for now. Though worrying, you tried getting your mind out of it with other tasks at hand.

You had an early morning the following day, out the door by seven. Due to the fact you had earphones with music obstructing your hearing, you did not hear Jungsoo’s door open, when you had straightened your head, his sudden appearance making you jump. Again.

“God!” you exclaimed, clenching your chest and almost dropping your bag on the floor. “Don’t… don’t do—”

“Do you get scared easily?” he said with a smirk. He was dressed in somewhat relaxed clothing, tracksuit bottoms, oversized hoodie and a baseball cap, his shoes looked comfortable enough to dance in. You, on the other hand, were dressed more formally with white shirt and black slacks, a long overcoat on and shoes that were definitely not comfortable to dance in, but still possible.

“No, I—I didn’t expect to… Good morning, Jungsoo,” you finally greeted him.

“Good morning to you too,” he now smiled cheesily. This was a change of mood from that of the previous days. “Going somewhere important?”

“Um…” you scrambled to find an excuse for your outing, “yes. I am going to… work.”

“Where do you work?” was his quick follow up question.

“In a place… where I need to dress… so… important…ly…” you sound like a fucking idiot, you thought.

“Oh, right,” you both walked to the lift. “Going to the car park, I’m guessing.”

“Ah, yes!” you said exuberantly, “yes… I am.”

He gestured a hand to indicate you to enter the lift first, following suit soon after. Having began the descend to the underground floor, Jungsoo still had a question ask. “Are you nervous around me?” He figured you were jittery and hyper for one reason or another, wanting to know which it was.

“Oh, no, I—” you looked at him as he gazed back at eye level contact. “Not nervous, just trying to get my head around Seoul. And this place…” you narrowed your eyes at him to try and understand what he was getting at. “I feel perfectly fine around you.”

“Good,” he gave you an assuring smile. “New people around me usually start off nervous.”

“Around you?” you said sarcastically. “Never. You are human after all.”

“Thank you, most people don’t see it that way. The more normal you act, the more comfortable it’ll feel.”

“Oh, totally.”

Arriving at the underground floor, he allowed you to exit the lift first also. You both had to walk to the designated corner that was for your floor, even though the spaces were tightly packed together. Because there was a space free between yours and Jungsoo’s car, he was able to enter his easily. However, you had to tightly squeeze between your car and the one next to yours, who seems to have parked in such a way you could barely fit.

“Why did you park like that?” Jungsoo was quick to ask. As far as you were concerned, you were parked well enough.

“It’s not me, it’s this damn Mercedes,” you said, finally manoeuvring in a way you could get to your door without dirtying your clothes. “Mind if I go first now too?”

“Sure,” he agreed as you were able to get inside your car. And so, you were able to get on your way to work. As could Jungsoo. One and one finally came together in your head. He’s going the same way as me, isn’t he? The dread started as Jungsoo was, in fact, close behind you, in the packed road. You only knew one route to SM, for now, and figured that’d be the one he’d be taking also. Checking your review mirror after every few hundred metres, as well as at every turn possible to see if he would take them, he was still close behind. That was until he took a left at a junction. You knew you were heading the right away and you could sigh in relief. He was going somewhere else.

You were able to be more relaxed for the time being, heading to that meeting planned for eight in the morning. As it was a day full of them, and of less dancing, there wasn’t much chance you’d bump into Jungsoo. After a much-deserved break for lunch, you returned with Rino who took you to her office, her too in formal attire.

“Ugh, these shoes are killer!” she kicked her high heels off as soon as she entered, sitting down to massage her feet, noting how the discomfort did not phase you. “Are you dying in those?” she pointed at your black leathered heels.

“Eh, I’m used to it,” you dismissed the pain, your insides screaming for you to get these instruments of torture off your feet.

“Ah, trying to make a good impression, I see,” Rino smiled, leaning back on her chair. “We haven’t got much to do until three p.m., you could go over that file of rookies that Sooman possibly wants to bring into NCT soon that’s on the table outside. You can go into the dancer’s common room and review it there. It’s usually empty around this time.” When she finished, you smiled at her, doing as she asked, leaving and closing the door behind you.

You sat down at the adjacent sofa to the coffee table, seeing the pile that Rino mentioned. Sitting down you were able to take pressure off your feet slightly, parting your knees and placing your forearms on them. Flicking through the pages for a while, you became distracted when you heard the ding of the lift go off. You peered up to see a crowd of men leaving it, all of them rushing to the other side of the floor, none of them paying you any attention as their view of you was obscured by a dividing wall, but if they looked hard enough they would see you.

Which is what happened when the last man looked over his shoulder and behind him to look at the figure, being you, that was there. You recognised the outfit instantly as soon as you saw the back of it, and when the man did a doubletake to look at you again, you knew it was Jungsoo.

“Y/N?” he called out your name, your eyes widening at the revelation. You stood up as he was starting to make his way to you. But he was stopped by someone from the initial group coming back to retrieve him.

“Hey, Jungsoo,” he said placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. It was Donghae. “What are you doing?” He looked in your direction, smiling warmly at you, but you were too frozen to react. “What are you gonna do, terrorise the new girl? Come on, man.” Donghae didn’t even wait for a response when he started to pull Jungsoo back by his shoulders as he stuttered your name.

Well, you thought, fuck.

part ii.

#leeteuk fluff #leeteuk scenarios #super junior fluff #super junior scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #park jungsoo fluff #park jungsoo scenarios #*#idk what else to tag #do ppl even read for super junior anymore let alone leeteuk #i'd like to more #this was written on a whim but i have a lot more to add to this

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the-fiction-witch · 6 years

Text

Remember Me P2

REAL LIFE: COUPLE: TBS X READER RATING: SADNESS + MILD SMUT

REQUESTED:

funkenniffler said: Part 2 pleeeeeaaasssseeeeeeee

smokinsnail said: Yassss part 2!!

imyourmessyouremycure said: Pls part 2! I loved it and I’d like to know what happens next

lauragarfitt said: Please do part 2 I love your writing and this story is so captivating to read!

http://whatifwearefiction.tumblr.com/post/173269519875/remember-me

Y/N POV:

I Woke suddenly sitting up in a bed, it felt comfy and familiar to me my silky nightgown clinging to me I heard the sound of movement in the bathroom to my left “aww hey sleepy head” a guy smiled leaning on the door frame of the bathroom half naked with a towel around his neck as he dried his hair

“Hi” I smile at him

“Somebody’s happy, nice dream last night?” he asked as he wondered in sorting himself out

“I dont remember” I say sadly as a little black cat jumped onto my bed I happily petted it the guy came over sitting on my bed with me now having dried his hair and got a shirt on

“Come on, you need to do your practice, do you remember that?” He asks me

“Uhhhh.... My Name is Y/n… I live in london… I’m Y/A years old… thats comet, this is my flat” I recite and he smiled at me

“Look at you, your getting so much better” he smiled kissing my head before looking at me cautiously “Do you...remember me?” he asked I looked at him trying to recall anything about him i could remember

“Thomas?” I ask a little unsure and he blushed like crazy

“aww sweetheart” He smiled hugging me tightly “Your getting so much better” He smiled at me before he got up “Right... Bacon?” he asked me

“Please” I smile

“Okay, Shout me if you need me” He smiled before he wondered off so I got up out of bed and wondered into the other room everything seemed familiar to me yet like...i couldn't remember details I saw thomas cooking away in the kitchen as i wondered around I saw a painting a beach with a pier it had a fairground too where was this? I kept looking all the little things I remember I glanced to the bookshelf a book was gone...but I couldn't remember enough about it to say what was missing, the bin below it the bag had changed, it now contained two empty cigarette packets, a box from something, and -

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! came from the front door I froze as it frightened me someone was at our door? who? why?

“Can you go keep and eye on Breakfast sweetheart I’ll get the door” thomas told me so i went and kept an eye on the cooking bacon an the brewing coffee in the machine, some scrambled egg cooking in the Microwave with all these noises I couldn't hear anything going on at the door till I heard a slam that shuddered the apartment and thomas came back looking stressed “thank you sweetheart” He smiled kissing my cheek returning to doing the cooking I stepped towards the door did Thomas slam the door? or was it the other person? who was at the door? why didnt he tell me? why does everything feel so....wrong.

“Y/n, sweetheart what are you doing?” Thomas asked me

“Nothing” I smile

“Okay, Ohh your little nighties falling down” He laughed at me fixing the straps and pulling it down a little “there, now your not walking around with your privets out” He laughed at me

“Ohh sorry” I blush

“Relax sweetheart, nothing haven't seen before” he smiled “I’m quiet used to you flashing your tits at me” he smirked kissing my nose before he returned to cooking I noticed on the dinning table was a pile of letters and a parcel

“Can i?” I ask him

“Oh sure” he told me so I opened a couple letters nothing interesting, Rent bills, Water bills, apparently a magazine subscription was due to be late, I opened the parcel is was a little box with a ring inside

“whats this?” I ask him as he came over handing me breakfast and my tea

“Ohh...finaly I’ve been waiting for that” he laughed “Dont you remember, they had to cut your ring off at the hospital? I sent it away got it repaired for you” he smiled

“Ohh...well that was nice of you” I laugh as he took the ring out the box kneeling by my chair and he put the ring back on my finger

“There you go, felt like something was missing wasn't it?” He smiled and I nod a little lost looking at my ring it was so pretty how could I ever forget about it once I had eaten my breakfast I sat a bit confused what to do “if you want love, i’ll run you a bath help you relax a little” he suggests

“That would be nice” i smile

“okay, give me a minuet, bubbles?” he asked

“Yes please” I smile

“Okay” He smiled kissing my head and going off to the bathroom I got up for a moment wondering around again as I did there was a little note slipped though the mail box on the door it was a blue bit of paper that read

My darling? why dont you remember me? why wont you come home?

“Sweetheart? whats the matter?” thomas asked me

“nothing” I smile hiding the paper behind me

“Well your bath is ready, nice a toasy, some nice bubbles, I even got you a nice bath bomb okay” He told me

“Thank you thomas” I smile kissing his cheek making him blush like crazy as I went into the bathroom that bath did look nice so I stripped off my nightie and got in I relaxed in the hot water for a while looking at the note, darling? thomas doesnt call me that, he calls me sweetheart, remember you? who are you? where you at the door? did you try to see me? are you my family? are you my friend? come home? i thought i was home? is it not? is this not my home? is thomas...not who I think he is?

“Sweetheart? is it okay if i come in?” I heard thomas ask from the other side of the door I quickly drunk the letter in the water letting it disintegrate in the water

“Uhh sure” i blush moving as much bubble as i could to cover myself up as he came in shutting the door behind him he smirked at me his eyes so strange a look I couldn’t really remember

“Ummm... you look pretty today” he smirked at me

“Thanks” I blush

“You wanna get out now?” He asked and I nod so he grabbed me a nice red towel and held it up for me but I just blush “Okay, okay Im not looking” He laughed so I got up and wrapped the towel around me standing by the mirror “Why are you so shy sweetheart?” he asked me

“I dont know” I stutter

“Y/n Could I?” He asks tapping my waist

“Uhh...sure” I blush and he smiled wrapping his arms tightly around my waist

“Ummm I missed cuddling with you” he smiled

“it is comfy” I giggle I kept feeling him tighten his grip on me and kissing down my neck

“You so beautiful” He groaned “Please...let me look at you” He smirked tugging off my towel leaving me naked I instantly tried to cover myself up feeling so exposed with him looking at me “Sorry sweetheart...its just when your nightie rid up this morning you where showing off so much...I couldn't stop myself” He groaned kissing down my neck his hands sliding up from my waist to my tits grabbing one in each hand and firming groping them “Umm they feel so good” he moaned in my ear “Umm Its been so long my darling” He moaned I didn't really know what to think of all this “Why are you being so shy sweetheart? wheres that sexy little deviant I married” he smirked one hand moving away from my tits and slipping inside me causing me to gasp in shock “Humm there she is” He smirks he tried to move his finger but it just hurt everything hurt

“Thomas stop your hurting me” I told him

“oh sweetheart im sorry” he told me stopping everything and turning me to face him “its just...its been so long since we did anything, not since before the accident, I know you need your space and all, its just...its getting a little hard is all” He told me

“Im sorry thomas, maybe when I remember a little more” I smile

“Okay” He smiles holding me tightly

Part 3?

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carolinemillerbooks · 3 years

Text

New Post has been published on Books by Caroline Miller

New Post has been published on https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/the-world-according-to-charlie-brown/

The World According To Charlie Brown

I’d lost touch with the world of fashion and celebrity for a while because I failed to renew a magazine subscription. Having corrected my error, the publication soon arrived. What I discovered is that elites are escaping Covid-19 restrictions by flocking to private clubs. (“Privacy Is Not Dead,” by Marshall Heyman, Town&Country, 9/21 pg. 57.) Membership is pricey, though, enough to makes me think owning a private island would be cheaper. In any case, for those with cash to burn, luxury services continue to flourish and aren’t confined to zip codes. Telecommunication transports people anywhere without the need for a mask. A Zoom consultation for “skin laxity” with a New York salon means anyone anywhere—even the Pasha of Marrakesh—can enjoy expensive creams to ward off bags and sags. (“Look Ma, NO HANDS!” by Fiorella Valdesolo, Town&Country, 9/21, pg. 72.) Of course, for clients who live in the Big Apple, salons offer other services that don’t expose them to Covid-19. A robot manicure is one. (Ibid, pg. 72) For a bit of gossip, however, be prepared to pay extra. China frowns on these extravagancies designed to escape the virus. The country gave birth to the disease, after all. What’s more, leader Xi Jinping is worried about a growing appetite for western decadence among the elite. To him, a cultural pandemic is worse than a viral one. As such, he has vowed to “…control all the cultural chaos and build a lively, healthy, masculine, strong and people-oriented culture. “ Where women will stand in this renewed “masculine” culture, I don’t know. Maybe women aren’t people. If so, they gain an advantage. Since no one cares why a chick crosses the road, she might go for a robot manicure. To its credit, technology seems eager to serve humans. But where will it lead? The more it teaches us about other cultures, the more we dislike one another. Women in Afghanistan enjoyed a few western freedoms for a time. Thanks to a hostile Taliban, they’ve been whiplashed to the stone age. American women face a homegrown Taliban, too. These are religious zealots who seek to overturn the Bill of Rights’ Establishment Clause. The Texas legislature, for example, most of them males, aims to end a woman’s right to an abortion after 6 weeks. By then, they argue, an embryo has a heartbeat and is entitled to the legal protections of personhood. I doubt that fertilized eggs are people. At least, I’d never want to date one. Even so, what’s troubling is that Texas legislators know nothing about “birthin’ babies.” The human embryo develops heart valves at 9-10 weeks. Maybe those who wrote the law were thinking about fruit flies. It wouldn’t be the first time men have declared females a sub-species. Foolishness isn’t confined to Texas, of course. Larry Elder, a conservative talk show host, and California politician comes to mind. An African American, he’s all for slavery reparations. He just wants it to go to the descendants of slave owners. They are the folks who “lost their property,” he reminds us. Hearing talk about people as property never fails to make my jaw drop. Even so, I won’t moralize but will stick to the facts. Slave owners were compensated. Elder’s history is flawed as is, I fear, his brain. If he doesn’t win his California race, he might want to move to Texas. Recently, a friend sent me a Peanuts cartoon that sums up my take on the world at this point. Charlie Brown is tucked in his bed with his dog. Having come to a decision, he turns his head toward his pal. “We’re not going outside anymore, Snoopy. It’s too peopley.”

#Charlie Brown #Establishment Clause #Fiorella Valdesolo #Larry Elder #Marshall Heyman #religious zealots in the U. S.#robot manicurists #slavery reparation #Snoopy #Taliban #Texas 6 weeks abortion law #Xi Jinping #Zoom

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littlefoxesonthehillside · 4 years

Text

Do you usually sleep with your closet door open or closed? Open, typically.

Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from hotels? Sometimes.

Have you ever ‘done it’ in a hotel room? Yes. My first time was in a hotel room.

Where is your next vacation? My living room, because I’m choosing to be smart and considerate by social distancing.

Have you ever stolen a street sign before? No

Who do you think reads these? No one.

Do you have a calendar in your room? I don’t. I do love calendars, though, so maybe I should get one.

Where are you? In my bedroom. Not sleeping.

What’s your plan for the day? To practice social distancing and get work done from home.

Are you reading any books right now? Not right now, actually.

Do you ever count your steps when you walk? No.

Have you ever peed in the woods? Yes.

Do you ever dance even if there’s no music playing? Yes.

Do you chew your pens and pencils? Nope.

Is it okay for guys to wear pink? I do it a lot.

Do you still watch cartoons? Yes.

Whats your favorite love movie? Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

What do you drink with dinner? Water.

What do you dip Chicken Nuggets in? Nothing. I’m a vegetarian.

What is your favorite food/cuisine? Pizza.

What movies could you watch over and over and still love? Carol, Mean Girls, Hannah and Her Sisters, The Fabulous Baker Boys, Nashville (1975), 20th Century Women, Sense & Sensibility. I might be gay.

Last person you hugged/kissed? I hugged my mom today.

Were you ever a boy/girl scout? No.

Would you ever strip or pose nude in a magazine? It would have to be a nice paycheck.

When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper? Probably after I graduated high school, so a little over nine years ago.

Can you change the oil on a car? No.

Ever gotten a speeding ticket? No.

Run out of gas? No.

Favorite kind of sandwich? Egg salad with tomato.

Best thing to eat for breakfast? In terms of nutritional value, oatmeal is hard to beat.

What is your usual bedtime? Hahahah.

Are you lazy? A bit.

When you were a kid, what did you dress up as for Halloween? I went as Kane for one Halloween.

Do you have any magazine subscriptions? None.

Which are better, legos or lincoln logs? I never got into Lincoln Logs, so I’ll go with Legos on this one.

Are you stubborn? To a fault.

Who is better…Leno or Letterman? Letterman.

Ever watch soap operas? I watch professional wrestling, does that count?

Afraid of heights? Not really.

Sing in the car? Yes.

Dance in the shower? No.

Dance in the car? What are we even talking about?

Ever used a gun? No.

Do you think musicals are cheesy? No way.

Is Christmas stressful? Very.

Ever eat a pierogi? I don’t know what they are, so no?

Major annoyance right now? My inability to sleep. And also, you know, the global pandemic.

Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid? Teacher, professional wrestler, veterinarian. Spoiler: I do none of those things.

Do you believe in ghosts? I don’t.

Ever have a deja-vu feeling? Frequently.

Do you take a vitamin daily? I don’t.

Wear slippers? No.

Wear a bath robe? No.

What do you wear to bed? My underwear and usually the shirt I wore that day.

Wal-Mart, Target or K-Mart? K-Mart was awesome.

Nike or Adidas? I’m more of a New Balance guy.

Cheetos Or Fritos? Cheetos.

Peanuts or Sunflower seeds? Peanuts.

Ever hear of, “gorp”? It’s like trail mix, right?

Ever taken karate? No.

Ever kissed someone of the same sex? Yes.

Can you curl your tongue? Yes.

Ever won a spelling bee? No. I never even entered a spelling bee, despite being an exceptional speller.

Ever cried because you were so happy? I have before. Doesn’t happen often, though.

Own any record albums? I don’t.

Own a record player? My mom does.

Regularly burn incense? No.

Ever been in love? No.

Hot tea or cold tea: Hot.

Tea or coffee? Coffee.

Favorite kind of cookie? The frosted sugar cookies they sell at grocery store bakeries. Runner-up: Chocolate chip.

Can you swim well? Quite.

Can you hold your breath w/o manually holding your nose? Yes.

Are you patient? I try very hard to be.

Ever won a contest? Not anything serious.

Ever had plastic surgery? No plastic surgery for me.

Which are better black or green olives? Black.

Can you knit or crochet? No, unfortunately.

Wash room or bathroom? Bathroom.

Do you want to get married? Sure.

Who was your High School crush? No one.

Do you cry and throw a fit until you get your own way? No.

Do you have kids? No.

Do you want kids? Not sure.

What kind of mom are you? I’m not a mom. I’m not a parent at all, actually!

Do you miss anyone right now? Yes.

Who do you want to see right now? I want to see Joe Biden as he’s inaugurated into the White House. That’s it.

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alexiss-fic-archive · 6 years

Text

The Moon goddess' Trial: Part one.

Summary: Steven and Connie receive a package, while the Gems return from a mission

Also available on the Ao3

The mornings at the Beach House aren't much different from any other household.

Every morning, when the Gems are out, Steven or Connie (usually the former) wakes up before the other to make some breakfast that the two of them could share before splitting up the chores of the house. Then they read a book, watch TV, play a video game or do some activity like that before heading out to town so they could do stuff outside until the evening.

This morning however wasn’t usual at all.

Connie woke up in the safety of her bedroom, a spacey and well lit hidden room beneath Steven's loft, to the familiar smell of waffled egg sandwiches invading her nostrils.

As she opened her eyes, Connie perceived the blurry figure of the invention that she and Steven had created when they got stuck in a snowstorm in Mr. Universe's van a year ago. Next to it was something that seemed to be a glass of orange juice.

The girl fumbled for her red-framed glasses and placed them over the bridge of her nose, clearing the permanent fog that blurred her vision as she saw the lukewarm sandwich sitting on a small plate next to the glass and a note that read: Good Morning!!♥

With a fond smile adorning her face, Connie made a mental note to thank Steven before getting out of bed to eat the lukewarm breakfast and get cleaned up.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

After making up her bed and getting dressed, Connie opened up the sliding door that led to the house's living room. She found that Steven had already finished with the chores and was nowhere to be found.

“Steven?” The girl asked at the empty house “Are you there?”

When she didn't find an answer, Connie suddenly remembered that the package she helped him order a month ago was finally arriving to the house that day. She assumed that Steven must be waiting for the mailman next to the temple's mailbox.

After washing up her dishes, Connie walked out on to the house's deck to look for Steven. Sure enough, she could hear his voice from the direction of the temple's mailbox. She could see him sitting next to it, intently watched the side of the beach from where the postman would appear with his package.

The girl walked down the stairs, Listening to Steven's innocent melody mixed with the soothing crash of the waves on the shore and the occasional caw of the seagulls that flew above the peninsula's sky as she approached him.

Once she was close to him, Steven turned around upon listening to her footsteps on the sand.

“Connie!” He called her name excitedly. “You up already?”

“You helped a bit with that breakfast you made.” She said with a smile that mirrored Steven's.

A brief silence fell between them as Connie sat down next to Steven before speaking up again.

“Soo… What are you doing here?”

“Remember the package we ordered online a week ago?” He explained with stars shining in his eyes. “Well, it's supposed to arrive today!”

“And you decided to wait for the mailman by the mailbox?” She asked with a small grin, already knowing the answer to the question.

“Yup. I saw it in a cartoon once!” He said cheerfully.

The whole scenario was so cute that Connie could barely keep her squeals under control. It turned out that Steven had never received any piece of mail in his life, not even a mis-received magazine subscription or junk mail. This was the first time he experienced the way the postal service worked, so it was natural for him to be as excited as he was.

“Oh! There he is!” Steven said as a member of the postal service appeared on his field of vision.

The worker was a young, tall man who was wearing the standard uniform of the Delmarva post office, a light blue shirt, a pair of khaki shorts and a hat. He carried a bag filled to the brim with letters and packages wrapped in brown paper. An ID tag with his photo and the name “Jamie B.” was hanging from the man's neck.

The man approached the mailbox and the two children next to it absentmindedly. He was distracted by the sheer beauty of the ruined statue that was the temple's facade. His gaping mouth gave away that he had never approached to the temple in his life.

“Good Morning!” The waiting boy said, startling the distraught mailman who nearly jumped and spilled the contents of his bag.

“G-G-Good Morning!” He said flustered as he regained his balance.

“First time around here?” Connie asked.

“Y-Yeah….” The office worker said nervously. “I heard rumors about this giant stone lady at the end of the peninsula, but I never thought it was actually real…”

“Yeah, the sight is breathtaking the first time.” The girl reassured Jamie.

He stared at the carved out cliff until realization hit him.

“Oh right!” He said before taking a squared package from his bag. “I have some delivery for, uh…” He placed the package under his left armpit and took a small electronic terminal from his belt. “Universe, comma, Steven?”

“I am Universe, comma, Steven!” The young boy said as he sprung up from his seat.

“Great!” Jamie said as he offered Steven his terminal. “Can you please sign up here?”

“Sure!” The boy said before writing his name on the touchscreen of the device with a small star at the end before giving it back.

“Thanks!” The man said as he took the device and handed over the package with the boy's name. “Here you go!”

“So… Jamie,” Connie said, trying to create a conversation. “How come you've never seen the temple?

“Oh, I guess that I was too busy on auditions to actually visit it.” He answered.

“Oh my gosh!” A starry eyed Steven said. “You’re an actor?!”

“Kinda…” Jamie said sheepishly. “When I was in highschool, I starred as Hamlet in a play and the director told me that I was the most talented kid he had met. The fact that he was the PE teacher had nothing to do with that of course.”

The pair of children let out a small chuckle before he continued.

“The words she told me inspired me to follow my current dream of star the most prestigious plays of Empire city's Broadroad.” He kept telling them his story before Connie interrupted him.

“Why are you working as a mailman, then?” She asked.

“I, uh…” Jamie broke a sweat as his cheeks flared up. “You’ll see, you can't pay rent if you don't have money, and being an actor without a role doesn't actually pay at all. So… I took the mailman's job so I could afford food.”

He let out a nervous chuckle.

“Anyways, I must go back to work.” He said. “That anti-theft alarm isn't going to buy itself…”

“An alarm?” The two children said with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah... I believe that some prankster has been breaking into my house at night just to move the tennis gear my mom gave me on my birthday…” He explained them. “Anyways. Have a nice day on my behalf.”

“Sure!” Steven said smiling before the young mailman decided to return to his duty.

Once Jamie had disappeared from their sight, a beaming Steven said something to Connie:

“Do you wanna make an unboxing video of this baby?”

“You know I do.” Connie said mischievously.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

The warp pad inside the house lit up as Pearl and Amethyst materialized in the middle of the light beam, each one carrying something with them: Pearl cradled a small statuette between her spindly arms while the small quartz balanced a small pile of recipients filled with Aqua-Mexican delicacies in one hand and a giant bird egg on the other.

“I can't believe that you insisted on bringing that thing with us.” An annoyed Pearl said as she stepped off the pad.

“Hey, you were the one who said that we needed to restock the fridge before the next mission.” Amethyst said smugly as she carefully walked into the kitchen, making the slim gem scowl.

“You know that I didn't meant it in that way!” Pearl said. “In any case, how are you even going to fit those inside the fridge?”

“Just leave it to me!” The smaller gem said after carefully placing the stack of takeout on the counter while balancing the egg precariously on her hand.

“I’m not cleaning that up.” A frustrated Pearl said as Garnet's temple door opened behind her,the leader of the Crystal Gems emerging from her room, A couple of tennis balls were stuck in her cubic afro.

“Howdy.” The leader addressed her fellow teammates.

“Hey G-squad!” The purple gem said before positioning it between her arms. “You have something in your hair.”

The bigger gem acknowledged her teammate's advice and was quick to pluck the green spheres from her hair.

“Hello, Garnet.” Pearl greeted her friend while Amethyst moved in front of the fridge to open it. “Did you’re special mission went well?”

“I’d like to think it did.” The fusion said, managing to add a smug tone to her usual deadpan. “Which reminds me. Are we ready for the next mission?”

“Everything’s already set, Garnet.” Pearl said. “The only thing that we're missing are the kids.”

And as if on cue, the voices belonging to the younger denizens of the temple could be heard as indistinguishable chatter from outside the wooden walls as they approached their home, drawing a small smirk on Garnet's lips.

“Yup, All set.”

#connie maheswaran #steven quartz universe #su fic #orphan au #alexis writes shit #cheeseburger backpack

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