#apparently it’s cateye glasses

[tacticalgrandma]

This is how I know I’m getting old

#apparently it’s cateye glasses

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 15

Day 15 - It is impossible to lie to your soulmate.

Pairing(s): Romantic Loceit, Romantic Prinxiety, Romantic Intruality

TWs: swearing [like, twice at most]

--

Logan found himself in a bit of a conundrum. 

He watched the other sides bicker and argue among themselves - what else was new? - while Thomas tried to calm things down. In truth, Logan had no idea why Thomas had bought the damn trinket, it was likely a scam anyway.

The item in queston was a small, relatively unobtrusive enamel pin that, according to the informative leaflet that came with it, emitted a ‘subtle aura’ that would prevent the wearer from lying to their soulmate. Logan was skeptical to say the least, but Roman, ever the romantic, had insisted Thomas buy it in order to weed out the lucky prince of his dreams. Of course, the pin had no effect in reality, but because Thomas believed it so, the effect on his sides was interesting.

“I can’t believe you wasted ten dollars on that garbage.”, Virgil scoffed, perched on the stairs as always. 

“Oh, come on Virge!”, Thomas tapped the pin fondly, “Even if it doesn’t work, it’s a cute design, right?”

“Wow. A red heart. Yes. Totally original. I can feel the no doubt months of work that went into designing it.”

“....Sarcasm really isn’t a great look on you, y’know.“ Thomas muttered, feeling dejected.

Roman piped up to his defense, “It’s a classic design, Bring Me The Depression! Sure, it may be a little plain, but classics are classics for a reason!”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Whatever, you just like it because you’re a sentimental dork.”

“And what if I am?! Better than being such a Robert Downer Jr!!”, Roman huffed, “You are one killjoy who should make far less noise.”

Before Patton or Thomas could butt in, Virgil murmured, “God, I love it when you make those references just for me-”

The anxious side slapped a hand over his mouth instantly. His eyes widened in horror at what he’d just said as the others all turned to stare at him. Roman especially.

“.... You do?”, the Prince bashfully inquired. 

Virgil uncovered his mouth, clearly about to try and cover his tracks when, “Of course I do, I love that you put so much thought into it for my sake!”

Once again, he clapped a hand back over his mouth.

Logan wasn’t sure how to take the topic away from this whole soulmates mess to spare his fellow left brain boy further embarrassment; they were aspects of Thomas’ mind, they didn’t even HAVE souls, not that Logan believed they existed. Power of suggestion is an uncanny force it seems. The logical conclusion was that they were merely acting upon feelings already harboured. 

The logical side had to admit, he really hadn’t seen this coming.

“.... Virgil,”, Roman began nervously, Logan realising he must’ve come to the same conclusion somehow, “What colour is my sash?”

The emo squinted at him curiously, “Red? Duh.”

“What color is the sky?”

“Depends on the time of day.”

“Best soda flavour?”

“Grape-”

“How much do you like me?”

“With all my heart-”

Virgil hauled his hood over his head and eyes, “Thomas turn that goddamn thing off RIGHT now-!!”

“No, no, this is way too much fun-!”, Roman began.

Virgil glared at him, his tempest tongue echoing with the weight of his anxiety, “Do you have a death wish, Princey!?”

“Yes if it means you’ll keep yelling at me in that tone of voice-”

Now it was Roman’s turn to look mortified. His eyes nervously darted from Thomas and Patton’s looks of excited adoration, and Logan’s look of sheer and utter “I am so done with this”. The prince swallowed anxiously, looking to Virgil who seemed to be just as nervous as he finally took the chance to sink out.

“Wait, Virgil! Don’t- Aw shoot! Just as you two were finally telling each other how you feel!!”, Patton lamented.

“Padre, you traitor!”, Roman huffed, crossing his arms as he sunk out. Logan theorised it was just an excuse to go after Virgil. Just then, a cackling voice erupted from behind the TV,

“Who knew Emo In Grouchland was so sweet on Roman? Shit taste!”, Remus snickered, vaulting over the TV and taking his spot with glee. Thomas sighed, “How long have you been listening in, Remus?”.

The duke grinned, “Oh, I’ve been here the whole time! I was waiting for a good moment to skewer Roman with this little gift I got him, but the conversation got soooooo juicy I couldn’t resist listening in!”. He brandished a serrated edged sword that looked positively lethal and extremely painful. Patton and Thomas both winced while Logan readied himself to step in should he be needed.

“On that note, Pattycakes, how come you keep losing the gifts I send you?!”, Remus piped up disappointedly, “I put so much work into them, but all you ever tell me when I ask you is that you ever get them!”

Thomas and Logan met Patton with immediate looks of intrigue while the father figure figment looked figuratively flushed. He avoided answering Remus directly, lying to Thomas, “I-! I dunno what he’s talking about, kiddo-”

“What is it our dear brainiac says?”, came a familiar smooth voice, “Ah yes. Deception!”

Logan shuffled to the side to let Janus have some room, “Actually, it’s Falsehood.”

“Whatever, sure.”, Janus waved a hand dismissively. He was more focused on the source that summoned him, tsk-ing at Patton, “All this truth being spouted and yet the one lying hard enough to summon me is our dear Morality. Colour me surprised.”

Patton avoided meeting Janus’ gaze, “I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Patton, did you just try to lie to my face?”, Janus chided, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

The moral side bit his lip nervously, pointedly avoiding Remus. Unfortunately, Remus wasn’t about to let that slide,

“Yeah, Pat, what the fuck!”

“I’m nervous, obviously-!”, Pat cupped his hands in front of his mouth, inadvertently letting Remus know he wasn’t able to lie to him. 

“So where DO my gifts go off to, Pattycakes?”, he asked expecting the garbage or a wood chipper.

“I keep them, obviously!”, Patton blurted, his embarrassment growing.

Remus clearly hadn’t expected that, asking before he even had the chance to reconsider; “Why?”

The moral side figured he might as well come clean considering their current situation,

“Because I love them! They’re gross and a little scary sometimes, but they make me feel wanted around here whenever I’m sad!”, he admitted, tugging on his cardigan sleeves, “They make me feel….loved...”

Remus looked just as stunned as the others, but that expression melted into a toothy grin quickly enough as Remus scooped Patton into his arms in a bridal style hold, “See you nerds later, I have the cutest bitch in the mindscape to sloppily make out with!”

Before anyone could stop him, not that they probably wanted to, Remus sunk out with Patton clinging to him tightly.

“..... On that interesting note, I think I’m gonna go grab a snack.”, Thomas mused, already headed to the kitchen when Janus sighed, “I do hope this insufferable truth telling ends. I enjoy illuminating the lies you all spout but if there’s none to highlight, then I’ll be out of a job.”

Logan shook his head, “That’s incorrect, you also embody Thomas’ self preservation meaning you handle far more than lies, but more importantly, if you were ‘out of a job’ then you would simply cease to exist, which would not be beneficial to Thomas’ safety and wellbeing.”

Janus rolled his eyes and leant against the arm of the L sofa. “Are you always this sweet when you’re correcting someone’s use of hyperbole?”

“I was not being sweet, I fail to see how-”

“I was just teasing you, Logan.”, Janus smirked, getting comfy, “But if I’m being honest, which I very much am, it’s nice to be appreciated around here.”

Logan furrowed his brow, “Do you generally feel unappreciated Janus?”

Even Janus wasn’t immune to the effects of the psyche either, “Yes-”

He caught himself and cast a worried look toward Logan. Thankfully, the logical side may be intelligent, but he sure wasn’t smart enough to read Janus’ gesture properly.

“Are you alright, Janus?”

“No.”, Janus uttered, unable to suppress the truth.

A flash of concern that etched itself into Logan’s face gave Janus some hope that perhaps his feelings might be returned; it was always harder to read Logan, about all Janus knew was that he did in fact have feelings despite his protests. But those exact feelings? He’d be damned if he could figure any of them out.

“May I be of some assistance then?”, Logan offered, sitting on the sofa seat that placed him next to Janus while the latter remained on the arm of the sofa.

“... I’m not sure.”, the lying side hated how uncertain the truth tasted, “But I would like to try something, if I may, Logan?”

Logan frowned in uncertainty, “...As long as it will bring no bodily harm, I am willing to try anything.”

Oh god, is he really doing this? Yes, apparently. Janus brought his left hand to gently ghost over Logan’s cheek, 

“May I kiss you, Logan?”

Ugh, Deceit loathed the crack in his voice, but before he could apologise and let Logan off the hook, the logical side replied, 

“Please do.”, Logan’s eyes remained locked on Janus’.

The serpentine side didn’t need to be told twice. Janus softly tilted Logan’s face towards him, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. It was soft, fleeting but with an obvious taste of longing. They both let out a content sigh n unison as Janus pulled back, 

“I’ve already asked too much but-”

Logan cut him off, already giving a fond smirk, “It’s alright. I will have Thomas ‘lose’ the pin in the garbage. Your work will be unimpeded, Janus.”

“Perfect. I believe you deserve a reward.”, Janus chuckled as the two went in to kiss once more..

----

Short ‘n’ sweet this time!

Just some gay disaster sides who can’t lie, ehe.

@tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account   @cateye-glasses   @fandomsofrandom

#loceit #intruality #prinxiety #logan sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #my fics #soulmate september #roman #virgil #logan #patton #janus #remus #thomas

[gravlaxtacos]

-- Photo taken outside Vestkan Mat, May 22nd 2017

My Aunt Shirley* had this thing where she would say “Auntie Mabel,  Auntie Mabel, get your elbows off the table” and then she would look at me sternly down her nose (something she inherited from my teacher grandmother, I imagine). At this point I would a) realize that I was resting my elbows on the table while we were eating and b) quickly rectify the situation.

It didn’t matter if we were sitting in my grandma’s tiny kitchen with the formica table and linoleum floors, or in a fine dining establishment like The Century Inn* just up the road from my grandma’s house in Wa(r)shington, Pennsylvania. 

Elbows were never to be on the table during a meal, whether you were still eating or were finished and bored out of your gourd, waiting for the grown-ups to stop talking and wondering whether or not this would be the magical day when you would be allowed to eat only the chocolate out of the neapolitan ice cream block for dessert, rather than having to skim the ice cream scoop across all three flavors like a heathen.

Anyway, the point is, whenever I hear the name “Mabel”, I hear that little rhyme in my head and instantly sit up straighter, as though my aunt is somewhere, watching***.

The other association I have with Mabel is that, somewhere along the line, my mom began invoking Mabel as a parking goddess. I’m pretty sure that parking Mabel and elbow Mabel are one and the same, even though my mom swears she’s never heard the rhyme****. Regardless, Mabel’s aptitude as a parking spot finder manifested right around my junior year of high school, when my mom was gifted a little wind-up toy angel inexplicably***** called the Parking Space Goddess. She had a sticky spot on the bottom so she could be affixed to your dashboard, and on the back of the little package she came in, there was a nifty little prayer:

"As I circle at a turtle's pace, please give me a parking space. One that's wide and in the shade, then protect my car from the meter maid."

It was then that Mabel became not just a manners enforcer but a parking goddess extraordinaire, who we still invoke to this very day---me in Norway and my mom in New Mexico (or wherever we happen to be). Even my husband, as firm an unbeliever as anyone you’ll ever meet, now says to me, “let’s hope we get some of your parking luck,” without fail, each time we begin circling the block for parking in Oslo. And we both know that he’s actually sending a prayer out to Mabel when he says that. Because he knows that I know that he knows that that’s who my “parking luck” comes from.

And, just in case, whenever I catch myself with my elbows on the table, I quickly take them off, for fear that Mabel will curse me with seven years of bad parking luck. With the parking situation in Oslo, you just can’t afford to be cavalier with your elbows.

All this is to say, I would love to know who the Aunt Mabel is that this package refers to.

Is she what gives these muffins their “American taste”? They didn’t taste like an American or an Aunt to me, but what do I know? They also didn’t taste or look specifically “American”---no corn or chili anywhere, nor was the muffin extra sweet or extra huge (the usual markers for “American” food in Norway). It was confusing, but I ate it anyway, in case Auntie Mabel was watching. And judging.

Because … these muffins are all over Oslo. So, what if that means that Auntie Mabel is alive and well in Norway, living it up in the American expat community and distributing muffins??? Could I finally meet this Auntie Goddess who loomed so large in my childhood that even now I feel the whisper of her presence every time I sit down to a meal or mutter a prayer under my breath when parking is imminent?

I have been putting double coats of my trusty Lypsyl on my elbows ever since my muffin discovery a few days ago, just in case. My elbows are embarrassingly dry---thank you, Norwegian winters---and I’d be ashamed for her to see them like that, on the table or no.

You simply can’t be too careful. 

* She of the bright red bouffant, 1960s-style cateye reading glasses that she hung around her neck on a bejeweled chain, and plethora of pleather kitten heels... She was quite a character.

** Which was fancy because right when you sat down they would serve you a little glass plate, upon which was a pineapple ring resting on a piece of iceberg lettuce, with a dollop of cream cheese in the middle and a maraschino cherry right on top of that dollop.

*** And boy howdy, if something amazing hasn’t just happened: for years now, I have been wondering about Auntie Mabel. Why did she have her elbows on the table? Wasn’t she the auntie, and therefore meant to scold youngsters about proper table manners, rather than vice versa? Did my Aunt Shirley actually sneak in a “says” right before “get”, as quick as the indrawn breath that means “uh huh” or “I know” or “oh my gosh” or “you don’t say” in Norwegian, and I just never heard it? Well, a quick Google search of “Auntie Mabel” and “elbows” and “table” turned up gold (why oh why did it never occur to me to Google this before? Oh! That’s right! Because I had about a million better things to do. But I digress) … Apparently there were two rhymes back in the day. One, a little ditty: “Mabel, Mabel, if you’re able, take your elbows off the table, this is not a horse’s stable, this is a decent dining table.” And the other, the title of a book: “Don’t Let Auntie Mabel Bless the Table” (apparently Auntie Mabel will bless everything that is rhymable with “table” and you will never get to eat). So wouldn’t you know it, my aunt went and mixed the two together, confusing me for years and years and years. And now I’ve probably gone and done it to my own niece. The circle continues.

**** Maybe she never put her elbows on the table.  

***** It was definitely an angel, not a goddess---the wings went up and down, for heaven’s sake!

(Photo taken from here)