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thefangirlofhp · 7 months

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3. wearing each other’s clothes

“Are-you-kidding-me?!”

Each syllable was punctuated with a feather-pillow thump of frustration landing right over the sleeping boy buried in the folds of comfortable bedding and the dormitory mattress that Elain has discovered to be disturbingly personalized and ultimate. One of the things she’s trying to make her peace with is the uniqueness of the Ravenclaw Tower, with its frustratingly snobby doorknob and its gorgeous Common Room. Nuala did not think twice about immediately pointing Elain towards the boys dormitory, having long-since given up on the idea of getting said boy up for classes.

“Okay! Okay! Okay! Stop it, I’m up!” Azriel shouts, his hand shooting out to fend off the pillow Elain clutches tightly in her hands. She gives his head another smack for good measure, watches his jet-black hair flop with the assault and stand all over.

“How are you still asleep?!” she shouts back, his dorm room empty but for him as his classmates are already downstairs halfway through their breakfast. “You’ve got a test in fifteen minutes and you were asleep before dinner last night!”

A muffled grunt escapes her friend, who drags his blanket over his head.

“Oh no you don’t!” Elain yanks off the bedding, who has much experience getting stubborn sleep-loving people out of beds (if anyone could get Nesta up in the morning, she was such person) much to his chagrin. “I don’t believe this. Get your arse up this instant, Azriel Shadowsinger!”

He groans, curling into himself and then when it does nothing, he gives a frustrated shout.

“Who made you a clock?” he mutters, sitting up in bed, fixing her with a wild-eyed gaze and a puffy face.

“Merlin but you’re impossible, so you are,” she replies, grasping her hips. “Get moving into that bathroom before I give you a shower right here and now with ice-cold water.”

He blinks impassively at her. “You don’t know how to do that yet.”

Elain grits her teeth, her knuckles whitening over her hips. “Try me and I’ll get really motivated to learn. You’ve got five minutes to get dressed.”

To his credit, he does eventually get to his feet, not before shooting her a scathing glare, and when the bathroom door snaps shut behind him, it takes him all of a minute and a half to come back out with sharp-eyes and drenched black hair plastered to his head, water soaking the collar of his t-shirt.

“I can’t believe you’re that daft,” she remarks, shivering at the mere thought of the ice-cold water on her own head. Azriel shrugs, grabs a towel and rubs his head furiously. She prefers to wake an hour early to beat her dormmates to the hot water, to allow her hair adequate time to dry and her body to wake up of its own accord—shocking it into wakefulness is not something she’s ever considered doing. “I brought you toast.”

“Thanks,” he mutters from the midst of his self-inflicted tornado. “Can you put my stuff in the bag?”

“Sure,” she turns her back while he tugs on dry clothes and his shoddy uniform, crosses over to his sidetable overflowing with books and parchment scrolls that the house-elves of the school have long since learned not to touch—in a way, it is the picture-perfect image of a Ravenclaw student, who are renown amongst the wizarding world for being brainy twits obsessed with books and smartness. After befriending a few Ravenclaws, Elain’s realized that though each individual is a bizarre unique phenomenon, they’re all obsessive idiots hyper-fixated on a matter of their interest and without the common sense to be found in a hen. Still, not people Elain would ever want to be on the bad side of. They’re the sort of people who will go far in life, and it’s nice to have friends in such places.

Where Azriel will end up, though, is a question up for grabs. No-one can fathom if it’s a cold cell in Azkaban or as Minister for Magic; both are entirely probable. Wherever he ends up, Elain is sure it will be something worth witnessing. For now, if he isn’t downstairs in ten minutes, he’s going to end up doing remedial Transfiguration over the winter break and Elain cannot have her personal encyclopedia fall back.

Oh, but the books are a depressing sight to bear, for students meant to be having their noses buried in their textbooks and relevant sources. Elain’s eye twitches as she beholds a worn down hardcover first-edition of Bodies of Water and The Wowza Discoveries That Wizards Uncovered In Their Murky Depths that was likely never scheduled for a re-print. A brief glance at the list of students who’d ever checked the book out of the school library confirms Elain’s hypothesis that no-one would ever read it. Everyone except Azriel who has found it to be a riveting read, it seems. What with the pages full of notes.

She sighs. Stacks the non-textbooks up and puts quills and ink-bottles in his schoolbag, hunts around for his actual school textbooks and oh, of course, finds them discarded under his bed. His Charms book has actual dust on it.

And the fucker somehow was a top-scoring student.

“Look, I know you’re a gifted brilliant genius and all—”

“They mean the same,” he mutters under his breath and she has to count to five before going on.

“—but you really need to start paying attention to your studies,” she buttons the flap on the bag, brushes off a leaf stuck to the material and turns round. “Natural intelligence will get you far in life, but in school it’s not about cleverness. It’s about figuring out the patterns, the high-yield information and being smart enough to know what to memorize for exams. I know you don’t care for them, but they do determine your future, Az.”

His wide hazel eyes blink back owlishly at her, black hair ruffled wild atop his head and his scarred fingers making a sorry knot of his blue and bronze tie. “Yeah,” he replies quickly. “I know.”

“Wowza Discoveries, Az?” she softly recounts. “Really?”

“I’ll have you know it’s a riveting read,” he points firmly at her. “You can’t judge books by their covers—or titles.”

“I just think it says more about the person picking up a book with ‘wowza’ in the title than the actual book itself,” she replies.

“Whatever,” he scoffs, holding out his hand into which she dumps the bag by the strap and he shrugs onto his shoulder. “How’d you get in here anyway?”

“My feet,” she replies smartly, following him out the dormitory.

“Funny,” he snorts. “Got past the doorknob did you?”

“Excuse me, I take offense!” she yelps, crossing the expanse of the Common Room. “People outside your stupid house do have brains, you know?”

He shoots her a sharp meaningful look as he pushes . “I’m just saying, the doorknob’s existential crises lasted for weeks after your little stint about evolution and accusing it of being outdated and irrelevant.”

“I just meant the riddles it asks are stupid,” she mutters. “‘What comes first, the chicken or the egg?’ my arse. The egg actually did. The egg was a bird that evolved into a chicken. And I just as much hate that ‘a circle has no beginning’ line. Stupid doorknob.”

“You nearly made it gain consciousness,” Azriel laughs. “Professor Silver had to reset the charm on the thing which no one ever had to do since the school was made.”

Elain busies herself with brushing her hair behind her ears and adjusting her bag over her shoulder.

“Thanks for waking me up, by the way,” Azriel pipes up as they descend the staircase of the third floor. “I probably would have gotten up in time, but thanks still.”

“You really wouldn’t have,” Elain snipes back.

He grins. “Yeah, I wouldn’t have.”

“Don’t you—don’t you actually care about putting in an effort?” she pries hesitantly, finding their academic gap tricky waters to navigate without sounding like a jealous sourpuss. She does get frustrated by their difference, sure, that the three hours of effort she’d put in studying for a test he needs only quarter an hour of mild reading. Or that while she is pacing the length of the courtyard in breaks trying to get her mind to remember different potions ingredients, Azriel is napping somewhere or practicing Quidditch with his team and still he ends up as one of the top five in their year. Elain is entirely convinced he’d have come out first last year, fourth year, if he hadn’t forgotten about the five whole units they were told to revise in History of Magic and still his freakish memory had saved the day and if word is to be believed then the couple of points he lost were because the arse fell asleep in the exam and missed a word in the question.

But she’s more curious, and infatuated with this secret method of his.

“Sure, I do,” he replies. “I just soak in a lot of information, most of it not academically related, granted. But I can’t help that my attention constantly drifts. I just let my mind take me where it takes me.”

“Fascinating,” she nods, skipping the last two steps and landing with a heavy thud on her soles.

“You mean to tell me you can tell your mind to just focus on something and it does?” he demands. “Merlin’s balls, it’s like wrestling with an angry bull up here,” he taps his temple. “What’d I give to have the mindpower for that.”

“Some people would give their firstborn for your mind,” she reminds him.

“Oh, but how the other half lives.”

“Twat,” she laughs, rounding a corner that brings them to the Great Hall. A violent autumn breeze sharply whips into the corridor through the front doors, one that makes her own bones shiver and forces her to bend her knees to stay in place. Azriel squeezes a stabling hand over her shoulder, squinting his eyes against the beating wind, damp hair whipping back in the current.

“You’re going to die from a cold,” she decrees as the breeze dies down, what with the idiot not wearing neither a sweater nor a scarf.

“‘m fine, come on,” he tugs her towards the grand staircase that would take them to their first class of the day and their aforementioned test. Elain digs her heels into the ground, at which he huffs and stops as well.

“Here,” she unwinds her neatly wrapped scarf from around her neck and slings it around his own considerably longer one. “You can’t be an idiot in Ravenclaw. It doesn’t look good for your house.”

“If I keep it on will you drop it?” He asks from behind the knit yellow and black wool.

“Yes.”

“Fine,” he mutters, tugging it away from his skin but nonetheless slinging the longer tail over his shoulder. “I’ve a test to flunk.”

“Liar,” she chirps back, following him towards the classroom.

And sure enough, the next day when their marked tests were handed back and Elain twisted in her seat upfront to catch Azriel’s eyes from the back of the classroom, he held up an unfolded scroll with an almost annoyed red A+ scribbled in the corner and mouthed I was wrong at her. She rolls her eyes for good measure, but turns back to her own scroll and the exhilarating A marking it.

Sure, cleverness gets one far but so does hardwork and effort.

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edutainer2022 · 6 months

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So I got under the weather - fever, sore throat, snuffles, the works. But I am "busy" (tm) and, therefore, need to be "fine" (tm). So I'm indulgently reposting a little fluffy Tracy-fever piece I wrote out this summer. I may or may not be eyeing another fever-snippet in my notes. Depends on how "fine" (tm) I am. Please, enjoy!

PUPPY BASKET

A puppy basket. Jeff didn't recall who exactly coined the term - his wife or himself. Or maybe his mother. The point was - with three kids so close in age (and then two more down the line) the flues and colds, and stomach bugs tore through the bunch like a wildfire. There was not enough manpower in the household to keep up with sick boys quarantined in different rooms. So it was just easier and more expedient to stash the sniveling and coughing, and sniffling, and generally miserable puppy ball in the master bedroom. Lucy and himself took shifts sitting vigil, giving meds and fluids, kissing burning up brows. If he were planetside, of course. Later, when the boys' mother was gone, it would be, likely, Scott's room and the elder boys taking up watch hours, while he was busy with grief and work. The one time he came home from New York to find all five boys succumbed to a flu, pretty much delirious in his room, little Alan hoarse from crying - even Scott too weak from fever to call Grandma (and too anxious to call 911 lest child services got a wiff) was a memory he didn't dare revisit often.

He could distantly recall that a feverish Scott would be restless, Virgil would be cuddly, John would be clingy. Gordon would peel off any scrap of clothes on him. Someone would invariably end up upside down with feet propped on the pillow.

That morning got him investigating in Scott's room first thing. Gordon and Alan drew a short straw and were off for a supply run early on (a bright and whistling Gordon and a grumpy half-asleep Alan). Virgil was not expected down this side of 10 am, John was just back from orbit the night before. But Scott never made it to see the Tinies (did they even call the boys that anymore? Alan was starting college in a month!) off, have his run and a morning coffee-cum-strategy session with Dad - something that had become a new, cherished routine for them. The parent alarm in him, that never lay quite dormant even through the endless night of the Oort Cloud, was now blaring full force.

Fair enough, Jeff found his eldest room in an uncharacteristic disarray - a blanket kicked off all the way from the foot of the bed down to the floor, last day clothes scattered on the carpeting - something he came to recognize more as the youngest style, not Scott, who had tried to emulate Dad's military crisp order since he was five and learned to make his own bed. Scott was soon found by his father's increasingly concerned gaze in the middle of the bed, tangled sheets and disheveled curls a testament to a night of tossing and turning, breathing shallow and raspy. Jeff's immediate guess was a nightmare - heaven knows he was no stranger to warding off those, plaguing his boy's naturally light sleep. But a fine sheen of sweat, covering Scott's face and neck, belied a different answer altogether. Jeff wasn't surprised, when the brow he reached for to smooth away the soaked fringe, was burning. Scott wasn't asleep per se - eyes squeezed shut against a headache - but he definitely wasn't alert and present either. Jeff wasn't surprised, but he was getting increasingly panicked. His own mother gave him a semi-clean bill of health and was currently in Kansas, helping a friend out. The time difference made the call tricky. Not impossible, of course, there was no inconvenience Grandma wouldn't go through for him or his boys, for which Jeff was eternally greatful, but all the more weary to disturb his getting increasingly fragile Ma more, than necessary. Kayo was visiting with her own father, so that was not an option as well. The problem was, with Grandma away, there was no medic on the island. Unless, of course... Jeff remembered Virgil determined and precise with a medscanner, and later - all business and in-trade jibberish with the medical staff at the rehab center he had to spend first months back on Earth at. Despite budding worry, as Scott keened quietly and shifted under his father's soothing touch, Jeff smiled fondly. Virgil was, arguably, the closest to his Grandpa in looks and demeanor, but it appeared he followed his Grandma's professional leanings. He should try and wake Virgil up. Scott was definitely under the weather.

As if on cue, the door opened and a gigantic burrito walked in. Jeff started. The burrito was, upon a closer inspection, a human, barefoot, wrapped up in a blanket head to toe. The walking burrito was also eliciting grunts and a lung-splitting cough. Ouch. The intruder ignored Jeff completely, sidestepped the bundle of clothes on the floor, and collapsed on the bed, next to Scott, wrapping the latter immediately in a cocoon of limbs and blanket, like a cuddle pillow. Scott is restless, Virgil is cuddly... Jeff was beginning to get a bad, bad feeling about it. A quick dive into the fluffy depths of fabric and hair confirmed his fear - Virgil had a fever too. That left...

"John!" - he had to spring from the edge of the bed with speed and agility that would make his physiotherapist proud in time to catch a swaying ginger son from planting face first on the floor. John appeared soundlessly, a ghostly vision, almost translucent where he would normally be pale. A sneeze almost send them both toppling again, but Jeff managed to maintain balance and helped John walk the short distance to the other side of the bed. There was no question how the ginger was going to spend his spiking fever - the moment he climbed onto the mattress, John attached himself to Scott side like a limpet, the way Jeff had only seen Alan do so far. When sick, Scott was restless, Virgil was cuddly, and John was clingy. Well, the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Puppy basket is go!

Jeff was halfway through the mental checklist of things he would need to make the logistics of his three eldest sons down for the count work (fluids, medscanner and monitors to keep track of the fevers, ask Brains if the medkits were in the same spots now, call Ma as soon as the time difference would permit, coax, trick and blackmail the boys into cold meds and cough syrup, call Gordon and Alan to stay away for the day and to go fetch Grandma from the farm, make sure Brains was alright and quarantined in his lab and rooms, check himself up, because Jeff needed to be on top of his game for the sick boys - the day and the following night could be tough), when a loud shriek pierced the silence of the room. Scott was frowning and trying the disentangle himself from Virgil's death grip. Jeff reached for his agitated son's shoulder and rubbed a thumb over - in the haze of the fever Scott could get disoriented and start fighting any restraint. Jeff knew the boy would never forgive himself, if he hurt Virgil, even unintentionally. But Scott was not to be easily placated. His face contorted with effort and, likely, a worsened sinus pain, to Jeff's astonishment, the young man grabbed a barely protesting John, lifted him bodily over his own frame, like he was a... well... puppy, and stuffed him into Virgil's arms, that immediately closed the hug around a different brother, as Scott rolled to the side in a sleek stealth maneuver. He would have rolled all the way over the edge of the bed, had Dad's arms not stopped him. That must have computed to the cold addled brain as "safe", since Scott stopped struggling almost immediately and let out a snuffle in a voice Jeff hadn't heard since when the kids' mother was alive. "M'hot", Scott complained without opening his eyes. Jeff reckoned he should probably be more concerned about photosensitivity and the fact any of the boys was yet to notice or acknowledge him. Jeff made an attempt to hoist Scott up against the headrest, but thought better of it as another painful moan escaped. Instead, he sort of rolled the son back to the center of the bed, closer to the pile of other brothers. Scott seemed game for that and shifted to snuggle and spoon against John's back. That elicited a hum and a sneeze from the ginger. Virgil didn't stir. Puppy basket indeed.

Satisfied that Scott was settled for the moment and the other boys seemed to have fallen asleep, Jeff felt confident enough to go looking for the fever vigil supplies and an extra coffee for himself. But he didn't leave before leaning to reach the assorted temples and forheads for the mandatory kiss better and a soft stroke. So sue him, he missed a lot longer than eight years of being their Dad first.

A detour to the infirmary, a chat with Brains, a lot more strained one with Ma and an anxious one with the Tinies later - Jeff was on his way back to Scott's rooms. Gordon and Alan, of course, offered to come back and help with their ailing brothers immediately. But Jeff shuddered at the idea of having all five of the boys sick at once. He was good, but the tenure in space was taking its toll. The youngest boys would be well supervised under Grandma's watchful eye, till it was safe (or absolutely necessary- something Jeff tried not to dwell on) to return to the island.

The sight that greeted him upon return to the bedroom tugged the corners of his lips up despite himself. Seeing his sons sick or hurting in any way brought him no joy, but the picture was just too precious and hilarious at the same time. John had shifted upside down, somehow, so Virgil was now cuddling his brother's feet. John was also curled in an upside down ball, head resting on Scott's stomach. Scott, in an attempt to cool off, cast his long, long limbs every which way, including over Virgil's lap and head, in a comical replication of the Vitruvian Man. As Jeff stepped in, though, the eldest shifted again, to curl himself around John protectively and to draw Virgil into a side hug. Jeff needed to go ahead with the med scanners and to get the boys awake long enough to make sure they got a drink of electrolytes and some saltines, but first he paused to reach for his comm watch and snap a picture of the puppy basket. He would cherish the moment while it lasted. And he could always use it as blackmail backup against these three running themselves to the ground - under the threat of the photo being leaked to the Tinies.

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #scott tracy needs a hug #virgil tracy #john tracy #jeff tracy #jeff tracy needs a license update in fathering #thunderbirds 2015 #scott tracy needs his dad #my fic #methinks i have astronomy

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youbloodymadgenius · 3 years

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Home (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my entry for @maggiescarborough‘s 400 Followers Challenge. Congrats again, love 🌺

This is another silly, fluffy thing. It’s probably boring, sorry 😔

Since Ivar is undoubtedly a Scorpio, this story takes place in November 😉

The prompt: surprising the character on their birthday.

@geekandbooknerd, thanks for beta reading this for me ♥️ And @inforapound, thanks for helping me out ♥️

Thanks to google translate too 😉 jeg er allerede begyndt at lære dansk: I've already started to learn Danish.

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: On his birthday, Ivar is in a very bad mood. The only present he wants is you, but there is an ocean between you two.

Warnings: Ivar’s bad temper (is that ever a warning??); soft, soft Ivar; fluff+++.

Words: 3209

When his phone rings, Ivar's first thought is to throw it across the room. Looking down, he then sees the name on the screen and closes his eyes. Snippets of his days run through his mind: how he had snapped at Ubbe – I don't give a shit about what you're saying, brother; how his outburst had brought to tears his new personal assistant – if you don't even know how to make a fucking coffee, I should probably fire you; how Harald, his longtime business partner, had hung up on him, angering him even more – you may be smart, Ivar, but when you're such in a bad mood, you're worthless. I'll call you tomorrow.

Ivar knows he needs to calm down. He's so pissed off – at everything – that his right quadriceps is constantly spasming, his thigh as hard as rock. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, he sighs loudly, pinches the bridge of his nose and eventually grabs his phone.

"Mor?" He's sure his mother won't fail to notice the hint of sharpness in his voice. She won't acknowledge it, though, used to his temper.

"Hello Darling." There's a tremendous amount of love packed in those two little words, yet it doesn't bring a smile on his stern face. "I just wanted to let you know that Sven is on his way. He left Kattegat forty minutes ago. He is going to take you home."

Clenching his jaw, Ivar stops himself from telling his mother that Kattegat, for him, is no longer home. Not anymore. The truth is, he doesn't know where home is. Home isn't his luxurious loft in in the very center of Copenhagen either. Home should be where you are. But you're so far away…

Ivar clears his throat. "I still don't get it, Mor. Why should I go with your chauffeur? You do know I can drive, don't you?"

"Oh, honey, of course I do. But we've been over this, remember? You had to work the whole day, on your birthday, and I just want you to relax. Traffic can be brutal this time of day. Just let Sven bring you home. Maybe take a nap in the backseat, or just allow your thoughts to wander. I want you to be rested tonight, sweetheart." His mother pauses for a few seconds, and when she speaks again, her words are careful, her tone almost hesitant – so unlike her, his heart softens a little. "You did pack a bag, didn't you?"

Ivar can't help but roll his eyes and then settles his gaze on a brown leather duffel bag right next to his mahogany desk. He knows that whatever his mother might expect, he won't stay the night. And if she doesn't allow Sven

to drive him back to Copenhagen, he will just call a cab. He won't argue about it right now, though – everything in its own time.

Letting out a small sigh, Ivar nods uselessly, a hand running through his hair. "Yes Mor, I did."

Sven knows better than to talk to him and, in the backseat, as the car speeds down the highway, Ivar closes his eyes and tries to relax. Anger still coursing through his veins, it turns out it's a nearly impossible task. It seems as if everything has gone wrong since he woke up and he's therefore mad at the whole world. He's mad at all those stupid, infuriating people he had to interact with. He's mad at Sven for taking him to Kattegat. He's mad at his mother for inviting him for his birthday. He's mad at himself for accepting. He's even mad at you, for not being here; for not making the impossible possible. For leaving him alone. And no matter if deep down he knows how unfair it is to you; because of course, you'd be here if you could. But he can't help it. He's mad at you because he misses you, every day a little more, to the point where the ache in his heart is far worse than the pain in his legs.

And today, he misses you like crazy. To the point where sadness floods his mind. To the point where anger takes control. Because today may be his birthday, but it's also the anniversary of your first kiss, first and foremost. And he wants you here, right next to him, for now and forever.

Fourteen months ago, after yet another surgery, and because even if he knew all too well that he couldn't stay by himself while recovering, the mere thought of his mother's overprotective presence made him nauseous, he had flown – fled – to Canada, to Floki's. The old fool had welcomed him with open arms, turning one of the many guest rooms of his house into a high-tech physiotherapy space. That's where he met you. At first, you had been just his physical therapist, then his date, his girlfriend, and now you are his lover. And if he's back in Denmark for nine months now, you're still in Canada. He had thought he could handle a long-distance relationship. He couldn't have been more wrong. Your absence just kills him.

As a boat whistle can be heard, Ivar slowly opens his eye and then looks around. Frowning, he scratches his head, confused and annoyed. Since the Lothbrok mansion is located on a hill overlooking Kattegat, there's never any reason to go by the seaside to get there. Never ever. "We're on the wrong road, Sven. Why are you going to the shore?" Ivar speaks in a demanding tone of voice that doesn't impress Sven one bit.

The obedient chauffeur barely shrugs. "I'm just following orders, Sir. Your mother's orders."

Now riled up, irked, Ivar snorts, his nostrils flaring. "My mother asked you to drive me here?" Without waiting for an answer, he takes his phone out of his back pocket, gasping as Sven comes to a halt in front of The Nimb Hotel, the hotel palace of Kattegat.

When his mother doesn't pick up the phone, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, he tries to get ahold of Hvitserk, Ubbe, and even Sigurd, but to no avail. Fuming, his hands curling into fists, Ivar clenches his teeth. Did his mother organize a fucking birthday party even though she knows he hates that? She wouldn't dare. No, she wouldn't.

Oh, fuck. Sure, she would. She totally would. And it'd explain why she had been so adamant about having Sven drive him. She wanted him here, in this fucking hotel, and not at the mansion. It explains why his brothers don’t answer the phone. Because they know that if they did, he would yell at them to fuck off. He can’t believe it!! What’s got into his mother?? What the fucking hell??!!!!

For a split second, he hovers a trembling pointer finger over the screen of his phone. Calling an Uber and going back to Copenhagen would be so easy. But as tempting as it may be to just run away, he knows he won't do it. He can't. Because it'd hurt his beloved mother, and the thought is unbearable, even though he's angry with her right now. That's why, whatever she may have planned, he'll deal with it, putting on a brave face for her sake.

And that's why he doesn't object when Sven opens his door, "This way, Sir," his hand gesturing toward the hotel entrance, flanked by two ostentatious marble columns. Ivar uses his hands to place his right leg out of the car and he then slowly stands up, one hand on his crutch and the other on the car door, before following the gray-haired chauffeur, a permanent scowl on his face.

As they walk through the lobby, he is surprised when Sven leads him onto an elevator, pressing the twelfth-floor button. He would have thought that his mother would have privatized the hotel restaurant. But the restaurant is on the main floor. What's on the upper floors other than rooms? A roof terrace, probably. His mother would never throw an outdoor party in the middle of November though. Nothing makes sense.

Confused, Ivar tilts his head while the lift is going up. "Where are we going?" Sven doesn't react to his harsh tone, just repeating his reply from earlier. "I'm following orders, Sir. I am walking you to where your mother ordered me to walk you." He doesn't utter another word, getting out of the elevator as soon as the door opens.

Ivar tightens his grip on his crutch and follows him to what seems to be a hotel room. Or more specifically, and as it's written on the door, the executive suite. More and more bewildered, he watches Sven swiftly knocking on the door before using a card key to unlock it. Holding it open, the chauffeur steps aside, "I've been asked to tell you that the sunroom is over there," waving his hand slightly to the left, Sven then gives a slight nod to an astounded Ivar, "I now take my leave, Sir. I wish you a delightful evening."

As Ivar slowly crosses the living room, the slight thud of his crutch on the hardwood floor alerts you of his presence. Shivering with excitement and your heart pounding in your chest, you struggle but don't move, don't say a word; not yet.

Taking a tentative step into the sunroom, which, he's sure of it, offers during daytime a breathtaking view on the bay of Kattegat, a dumbfounded Ivar notices the candles first – there are candles everywhere, their soft glow creating an intimate ambience – and then the table for two elegantly set in the middle of the room.

"What the fuck is going on?" Ivar grumbles, irritation obvious in his voice, and you know it's time for you to show up, or he may leave. Stepping toward him and into the light, you absently rub your sweaty palms up and down your black dress, your heart now beating so hard and so fast you wonder if he can hear it. This is it. The moment you were waiting for, for weeks now. You couldn't be happier, and yet you can't help but be nervous. Could he reject you? You don't think so but with Ivar, you never know… Swallowing the lump in your throat, and even if you can barely breathe, you manage to crack a smile at the exact moment he sets his eyes on you. "Happy birthday, my love, and happy anniversary too."

Ivar's jaw drops, his eyes widen, and a soft gasp escapes his plump lips. He wobbles for an instant and you quickly close the gap between you and him, steadying him by placing both your hands on his hips. Your touch shaking him out of his stupor, he blinks a few times, his piercing blue eyes never leaving your face. "Y/N, is it… is it really you?" With a trembling voice and tears in his eyes, he stutters, dazed and surprised. "By the gods, what… what are you doing here?" His arm finding your waist, Ivar pulls you closer. There's a whirlwind of emotions on his face, but there's mostly love. You're sure he won't reject you.

"Did you really think I was going to miss your birthday?" Standing on tiptoes, you give him a long kiss before whispering in his ear, "And I missed you so much, my love."

Rough fingers caress your face as Ivar looks down at you incredulously. "But… I… I don't understand… I… I thought you were busy with work. But you're here… How?"

"By plane, obviously," you quip playfully, and your lover rolls his eyes and shakes his head, before suddenly frowning. "That's really a wonderful surprise, Y/N, and I'd love to stay here with you but we… we should go… My mother… I think she's waiting for me, for us… You know, since it's my birthday, she wanted to throw…" Ivar stops talking when it dawns on him that he has been – to his delight – tricked, and you just smile. "Mother never planned a party, did she?"

It's your turn to shake your head. "No, she never did, you're right. She knew I was coming and since I needed a little help, she agreed to play along. Tonight, it's just you and me, my love." Ivar's eyes sparkling with joy, your smile grows wider. "She's expecting us for lunch tomorrow, though."

Nodding, Ivar flashes you a beaming smile that falters almost immediately as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. As he stifles a hiss of pain, you wrap his right arm around your shoulder and your left around his waist. Without a word, you lead him to a corner of the sunroom, help him to sit down on a huge nest chair and finally breathe a sigh of satisfaction as you snuggle into his side.

His hand running up your arm, Ivar cups your face and looks at you fondly. "You being here with me is the best birthday gift ever." He then kisses you passionately, his hands roaming your back and your fingers threading through his long hair. When he breaks the kiss, he still holds you close and you lean into his warmth, your head resting on his chest.

"When are you flying back?" Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, Ivar clenches his jaw as you pull away just enough to look at him. You know he hates the idea of you leaving him once again. You don't have time to answer him as he keeps going. "Guess you'll stay through the weekend, but when is your flight? On Monday morning?"

A mischievous smile playing on your lips, you wrap your fingers around his hand. "There's no flight, Ivar, not anymore. I'm not going anywhere. I'm afraid you're stuck with me, my love."

Swallowing, Ivar just stares at you for long seconds, a frown on his confused face. "What… What are you talking about? If this is a joke, it's a very bad one." He eventually manages to say, his bottom lip trembling.

"I swear it's not a joke." You reassure him as you readjust your position, straddling him carefully. Your thumb stroking his cheek, you give him a quick peck before explaining yourself. " I hate our current situation, and I know you do too. I don't want to live like this anymore, between two flights, between two countries. I don't want to miss you anymore. My life is with you, my love. And since you can't exactly relocate the Lothbrok Company, it's up to me to move, which I'm happy to do."

Dumbstruck, Ivar remains speechless for a long time, but you can tell by the smile on his lips that he's thrilled by the news. Tilting his head, he finds his voice again. "You are serious? Wow! You do realize you'll have to find a new job, learn another language? That's not nothing."

"Actually," you place your hands flat on his chest, "I've already found a job. Floki still has strong connections here, did you know that? On the same day I made up my mind, he was already making calls. He has been amazing, truly! I start working in a rehab clinic within a fortnight. As for the language…", you stop and inhale deeply before saying hesitantly, "jeg er allerede begyndt at lære dansk." Ivar's wry smile tells you that your pronunciation could have been better, but you don't mind. It's a first step. "Anyway," you exclaim, beaming, "You know me, I love a challenge!"

"I just can't fucking believe it!" Ivar shines with happiness and it melts your heart. His next question, though, makes you wince internally. Because on that particular point, you're suddenly afraid you've put the cart before the horse.

"Where are you going to live?"

Lowering your gaze, you begin to fidget nervously. "I…", you clear your throat, closing your eyes, "I was thinking… well… Maybe I could… I don't know if…" As soon as you realize you're getting nowhere, you stop; you know you have to muster up the courage to be straightforward. Releasing a short sigh, you tilt your head up. "I was hoping we could live together. I mean if you want to. It's fine if you don't, I'll rent an apartment."

Literally thunderstruck, his eyes fixed on you, Ivar swallows loudly. "You… You…" He stammers, an incredulous expression on his face. "You want to live with… with me?"

As you nod while muttering under your breath "Only if you want to," a broad smile spreads over his lips and he blinks a few times. "Of course, I do. But you do know that", his sheepish look is unmistakable, "I'm not exactly easy to live with, right?"

Relief floods through you and you burst out laughing as you remember what he put you through when you were his physical therapist. "I do know you, my stubborn, grumpy, short-tempered and moody lover! And guess what, my love? I wouldn't want you any other way. Plus, as I said, I love a good challenge!"

Without even trying to hide his elation, Ivar throws his arms around your waist, giggling, "It's a deal, then," before peppering light kisses all over your face. His mouth barely an inch from yours, he's about to kiss you as your stomach rumbles. Embarrassed, you want to hide your face but Ivar, all smiles and laughing eyes, grasps your hands, squeezing them. "Guess we should feed you."

Checking your watch, you stand up reluctantly. "Actually," you point at the table behind you, "we should be served a meal in less than five minutes." Reaching out, you grab Ivar's left hand as he hauls himself to his feet, handing him his crutch once you're sure he found his balance.

Now towering over you, Ivar gives you a thank-you smile. "So, tell me Y/N, what's the plan for tonight? Besides dinner, I mean." The naughty grin adorning his features tells you the answer he's hoping for.

"Well," you can't resist teasing him, "I was thinking maybe we could take an after-dinner walk on the shore afterwards, and later, there's this wonderful documentary about penguins I wouldn't want to miss, so yeah, that's the plan."

"Ooooh, look at you!" You can't help but laugh your head off as Ivar's smile falters, a crease forming between his eyebrows and pouty lips shouting his displeasure. "I'm just kidding, my love," you soothe him, your thumb grazing his mouth, "there's this whirlpool-bath I'm dying to try in the bathroom if you're up for it. And after that, I'm going to make love to you, my birthday boy." Ivar's breath hitches as your hands squeeze his butt cheeks playfully. "And then we'll sleep. And tomorrow we'll go and have lunch with your mother. And when we're done there, you'll…" Overwhelmed with emotion, you stop, your eyes filling with tears.

"I'll…?" Ivar asks as a crooked smile tugs at his lips.

You swallow away the lump in your throat, intertwining your fingers with his. "You'll take me home, won't you?"

There are tears in his eyes as well, but when Ivar nods, the smile that flashes over his face is a wide, shining one. "Yes, my love, I'll take you home."

🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets @lisinfleur @waiting4inspiration @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @a-mess-of-fandoms @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @ivarthebloodyking @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @coco2315 @mlchael-guerin @pieces-by-me @xceafh

#ivar #ivars heathen army #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #modern ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern!ivar #modern!ivar x reader #modern-ivar #ivar imagine #ivar fanfic #ivar fic #ivar fanfiction #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #vikings imagine #vikings #sophies400

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rassilon-imprimatur · 4 years

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Steven Moffat’s new Doctor Who story The Terror of the Umpty Umps is a very cute snippet, if a little too tooth-achingly saccharine for me (I have issues with stories that present Who as a metaphysical force of unparalleled purity and goodness that transcends fiction and reality). Like The Day of the Doctor novelization, it contextualizes the Thirteenth Doctor as the epilogue of the Twelfth’s character development, so therefore says nothing new and is more just a fluffy and sweet recap of what Clara and Bill’s influence created.

However, with the Thirteenth Doctor’s first interaction with the main character and the reader in the story being to lewdly comment on the size of a man’s backside for a bit, I can only imagine Moffat awoke in cold sweat one quarauntined night and rushed to his laptop to make sure we, the unwashed masses, knew that in Chibnall’s comparatively sexless era, the Dr Who is still horny.

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fortress-of-iserlohn · 6 years

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i literally couldn’t help myself - building up my trash logh au content one ficlet at a time LMAO

tonight i present my first piece of non-reuyang (GASP). was chatting to @beingevil (the worst enabler in history) & saw this tweet from a fic prompt account and was INSPIRED (or something. i feel like i should apologise but nah)

vet!au - bittenfeld/oberstein: ~850w

Bittenfeld loves his job.

He works for no one but himself, sets his own hours, and most importantly of all, he gets to meet a lot different furry personalities.

When the last appointment of his day walks in one autumn afternoon, he takes one look at her and falls in love.

She’s probably two or three months old, still all awkward paws and gangly limbs, but her spotted coat gleams under the afternoon sun and there’s a black patch over her left eye. She grins at him, tongue lolling out in a charming puppy way and Bittenfeld can’t help but kneel down to greet her, holding out the back of his hand for her to have a quick sniff.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he croons, when she doesn’t shy back, reaching out and petting the dalmatian on the head. “Are you a good girl? I bet you’re the best girl.”

He’s still petting her when he finally bothers to look up at her owner.

He’s tall, probably close to Bittenfeld’s own fairly impressive height, and his hair is black as a raven’s wing, swept back and away from his high cheekbones in a severe sort of style. His face could be considered handsome by normal standards, expect for his eyes, which are cool and distant. He looks down on Bittenfeld with a blank, unsmiling expression and Bittenfeld’s metaphorical hackles immediately go up - he’s never been able to trust a man who doesn’t smile.

With one last ruffle of her head, he stands, straightening to his full height, feeling smug when his original estimate was right and he’s an inch or two taller.

“I’m Dr. Bittenfeld,” he says, deciding to be the bigger man here and make a bit of an effort at being friendly. “I’m the vet here at this clinic. How can I help you, Mr -?”

The dalmatian’s owner nods, a shallow dip of his head. “Oberstein,” he says shortly, as his own introduction. His voice is surprisingly deep and smooth, but like his face, utterly emotionless. “My dog needs to be vaccinated.”

Oberstein must be the life of the party, Bittenfeld thinks sardonically. A pity that such a cute dog and pretty face are both completely wasted on someone like him.

There’s a bump against his leg and when he looks down, the dalmatian is pressed against him, looking at up him hopefully.

Bittenfeld immediately crouches back down and lifts her easily onto the examination table. It would make things easier for the both of them in the long run. He rubs her behind her ears as she stands still without complaint, and grins when she gives him a gentle lick and wags her tail.

“What’s your name, lovely?” he asks her softly. “ I bet it’s a beautiful name, to suit a beautiful lady like you.”

He looks over to where Oberstein stands, his smile turning into a more neutral expression, waiting expectantly.

Oberstein stares back at him, face impassive for one long moment before he finally deigns to open his mouth. “Spot.”

Bittenfeld’s eyebrows shoot up incredulously. “You named her ‘Spot’?”

Oberstein lifts one shoulder upwards approximately three centimeters in what probably constituted a shrug for him. “Her coat is spotted, ‘Spot’ was therefore the logical choice.”

‘Spot’ wags her tail, looking between her owner and Bittenfeld excitedly, seemingly having heard her name.

“’The logical choice’? You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Bittenfeld mutters under his breath, running his hand across the dalmatian’s coat soothingly, in an almost apology for her terrible owner before he begins the standard checkup.

“She looks in excellent health at least,” he says eventually, stripping off his gloves and helping ‘Spot’ back down to the floor. “Make sure you bring her back in a month for the second shot of the vaccine.” Bittenfeld’s comments are obviously for Oberstein, but they’re pretty much spoken in the direction of his dog.

“Thank you, doctor.” Oberstein’s tone is still inflectionless as he clips the red leash to his dog’s collar and leads her out to reception to finalise the paperwork and payment.

Bittenfeld frowns, staring after the two and wondering if the dalmatian would be okay with such a robot for an owner. They are, after all, a highly playful and spirited breed that needs careful handling during training.

He decides to check if Oberstein even bothered to make a second appointment, poking his head out from behind his door to call out to his assistant at the front desk.

“Did Spot make an appointment for sometime mid next month?”

His assistant looks over, away from the computer screen he had been typing up reports on, frowning slightly in confusion. “Who’s Spot?”

“The dalmatian, our last patient of the day. Her name’s Spot.” Bittenfeld walks over to stand behind him, crossing his arms.

The assistant types something into his computer, bringing up the details that each owner had to fill out before the appointment and tilting the monitor slightly upwards so that Bittenfeld could see.

“Sorry boss,” he says, “No idea where you got that name from. The dalmatian’s name is ‘Königin’. I asked Mr. Oberstein and he told me that it’s German for ‘Queen’. He’s such a nice man. A bit aloof, but nice.”

Bittenfeld scowls, glaring at the information on the screen, as clear as black on white. It was completely obvious that Oberstein had enjoyed playing him for a fool, what with that deadpan expression and deliberately toneless inflection.

Bittenfeld vows silently then and there that he would get a rise out of Oberstein next month when he next saw him, or he would die trying.

ALSO. A BONUS SNIPPET. set somewhere down the timeline lmao. because the idea of reuenthal and bittenfeld being friends and yet complete twats to each other amuses me endlessly.

“I hate him!” Bittenfeld snarls, slamming the half empty beer bottle back on the table.

Reuenthal winces noticeably from where he sits on the other side of the table. “Please, this piece is an heirloom. If I had known you were going to be in such a tiff over your robot boyfriend, I would’ve taken you to the local pub.”

Bittenfeld splutters at that, choking on a mouthful and coughing it all over the glazed cherry wood to the distress of Reuenthal, who immediately gets up to find something to wipe it up with.

“What do you mean? I just said I hate him!”

“Oh please. You’re basically trying to pull his pigtails and get his attention the only way you know how, Bittenfeld,” Reuenthal says, voice still clear despite being in the next room. “Tell me that you don’t find his stoic, mysterious personality a turn on.”

“Fuck you,” Bittenfeld snaps, cheeks feeling like they were on fire. “At least I didn’t have to adopt a cat that I’m allergic to in order to get my own boyfriend to finally notice that I exist for long enough to date me.”

Reuenthal returns to the kitchen in time to glare back at him, throwing down a thick, fluffy towel onto the table to soak up the spilt beer. “At least I have a boyfriend. You just have a pathetic crush, like a grade schooler.”

ok look i lied when i said this was my first non-reuyang but i just can’t stay away from them okay.

SO in this verse yang once told reuenthal while they were really really drunk that his favourite commerical of all time was THIS ONE & reuenthal is both really drunk and really desperately in love with yang and as both a very drunk and VERY desperate man, he copies it.

so now, reuenthal is very much the proud owner of a two year old himalayan named ‘admiral’ who spends all of his time sleeping on yang’s bed like reuenthal wishes he could but can’t because he’s ALLERGIC lmao

#logh #linc ficlets #is this not the quality content you're here for?#bittenstein #reuyang #legend of galactic heroes

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smoldinopup · 7 years

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Jonghyun - The Letter - 2017.06.14 - Fan account

Epic Fan Account of Doom…or Fluffiness (but that sounds less cool)

People who follow my blog attentively might know that I flew to Seoul on Monday to see Jonghyun in concert on June 14, because I only mentioned it like 14142112313 times on here. This trip went as smoothly as room tempered butter on a piece of toast. Pics and a video of my trip and some fun facts can soon be found on my travel blog, but no one cares about that now, right?

Let’s get to the actual content of this post *whips out her non-existent kazoo to play a song*

@krge @gone-with-the-bling, because you two wanted to read it! ^^

I went to SM Town at noon to buy some merchandise. I had typed down everything I wanted on my phone to make things easier for me as well as the staff working at the merchandise stand. When I arrived shortly before 12 around 30 people were already waiting in line (or more like sitting on the floor). Luckily they played Jonghyun and SHINee videos throughout the waiting time on some huge screen, so the time until 1pm passed really quickly.

It was my turn after only 10 minutes, but by then the kazoo was already sold out, which still shocks me. Not every person in front of me bought one so I’m still wondering how many SM actually sold? 15? I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that they only sold a handful of kazoos. I already read several fan accounts that they were quite short on some of the merchandise in general, but I thought it would get better in week four. Apparently not…I’m still meeh about it, because the kazoo was the one thing I looked forward to the most. Anyway, I got my merchandise (I went a little wild *coughs*. Random side note, the T-shirt is such good quality! I’m in awe and will never take it off again! Especially compared to those flimsy T-Shirts with that ridiculous sizing they had for the FIVE tour in Japan, Jonghyun’s T-shirt can only win.)

Left side: Jonghyun’s T-shirt (free size) Right side: SHINee’s FIVE T-shirt (size S). The thing with the FIVE T-shirts, before you wash them the print looks beautiful because it’s holographic. After washing it this effect is gone. The material is also much thinner than the one they used for the Jonghyun T-shirt, and the sizing was ridiculous. Those T-shirts were super short as you can see in the photo, but super wide (it’s like a crop trop in a way) I don’t even know how Minho wore that T-shirt with his long upper body. Jonghyun’s T-shirt on the other hand... I mean you want to wrap yourself up in it and pull it down to your knees (which I can’t, because I’m too tall, but smaller people can wear it as a dress, which is adorable). They were produced in different countries, which might be a reason for the difference in quality. I don’t know, but SM please produce your Japanese tour shirts somewhere else in future!

After taking photos with the shining babes at the photo booths (SM ships 2min and Jongkey…just saying) I went back to the SM merchandise shop to buy some more SHINee merchandise and then did some sightseeing around Seoul before coming back at 7pm for the actual concert that started at 8pm.

I sat in the left block in the third row, which was amazing, and I wish I had been able to stenograph during this whole concert to capture all the details as soon as they happened like

But yeah, that didn’t happen. So please bear with me, I try to write it down as accurately as I can remember it, but like I already mentioned in my ‘fan accounts’ for the SHINee concerts I’m only human (an old one on top of that) and I can’t possibly remember everything (even if it breaks my heart). So please be aware that the following passages will be filled with a lot of cringe worthy love that I feel for this adorable human being.

You have been warned!

So, grab a snack, make yourself comfortable and enjoy the ride. I should just write this like a fan fiction…lmao (maybe not)

The opening VCR was him riding in a car and then walking along the beach. The presentation of the video was so nicely done, because they switched screens from left, to middle, to right as Jonghyun walked along the beach, so the audience basically followed him in his steps. He also looked astonishingly beautiful in that VCR, but let’s be real…when doesn’t he look astonishingly beautiful. The VCR was shot together with the video to ‘Lonely’, because the beach and the outfit he wore were the same as in the music video.

We stood up for the opening songs, which is always nice of course, but also made me very uncomfortable, because I was a head taller than anyone else in my block, and I constantly worried that people behind me might not be able to see the stage that well. Sorry people who sat behind me, I can’t do anything about my height T_T. Like I mentioned above I was sitting in row three, but I forgot my glasses at the hostel and therefore Jonghyun was still a little fuzzy around the edges, and I naturally tilted my head to look at the screen from time to time (force of habit…which I acquired during the Japanese concerts).

Jonghyun wore a white T-shirt instead of the red one for the opening stage. Something like one, two, three Seoul Youth was written on it. But I’m not completely sure if that’s completely accurate, so don’t nail me down on it.

Just like the red T-Shirt he sleeves of the white one had been generously cut off. However, I sat on the wrong side and only caught a glimpse of the tattoo on his ribs. Pity! But better than the T-shirt were those jeans! His jeans were torn in all the right places and whenever his legs moved one could see the muscles nicely contract in his thighs (is that too detailed, I wonder?) Anyway, I can attest that the boy got some booty and thighs now (@every-person-who-has-an-url-talking-about-jjongs-non-existent-butt-might-consider-an-url-change). I have to admit that I spent the majority of the first three songs with looking at his thighs and butt. I’m sorry, Jonghyun. Please forgive me my rudeness! I’m just not used to seeing you having an actual booty.

There were dancers accompanying Jonghyun for a lot of the songs again. Though, while I thought they are a nice touch during the X-Inspiration concert, they often felt like too much for this concert series, and to me it didn’t feel like they added much to the performances. But that’s just my opinion, and I’m sure others loved the dancers. As I mentioned in my “I’m screaming into the void, but I have to scream anyway post” right after the concert, Jonghyun came to the left side of the stage in the beginning of ‘White T-Shirt’ and pointed into my direction while saying ‘You’re so rock n roll’. He could have also pointed at all of us, but let me have this one little moment of fangirl love and let’s all assume he did point at me, because I stood out the most in a lot of ways, and yes, I’m more rock n roll than even Mr. Kim will probably ever be, so it would have been very fitting. (ﾉ≧∀≦)ﾉ lmao

So, that being said I was totally overwhelmed by all the fan chants. I mean sometimes I love doing them, but at other times it feels suffocating and too much, like I’m part of some Army? I have the Japanese SHINee fan chants down perfectly. You can wake me up in the middle of the night, play me a random Japanese SHINee song and I will do every fan chant perfectly (including synchronized fan light movements). I’m also quite confident in doing the Korean ones, but most of the Jonghyun ones just exhausted me. I can’t even remember if we did all of them in December? December is still such a blur. It’s a pity that I didn’t write everything down back then, because my brain is weak and so was my heart. Anyway, it took me a few songs to get into the right fan chant groove.

When the VCR to Rewind played I was shocked to hear Jonghyun speak German. I was like O.O ??? What is this foreign but familiar sounding language doing here? Is he Lady Gaga? There was Spanish, and Japanese as well…I wonder how he came up with using German and Spanish from all existing languages. Did he open Google and ask ‘How to count in different languages’ and he thought those are the fancy sounding ones? Or did Jonghyun think ‘Roo’s ancestors were German, so let’s go with some Rammstein vibes’. Either way I’m still not over it. Kim Autobahn you can speak random German words to me all day. The video was just like the song title… very repetitive. Jonghyun did the same things again and again. But I believe by now most have seen the snippet of the VCR that was posted a while ago.

I have to admit that I was a little disappointed in ‘Suit Up’. It is one of my favorite songs on the album. The band was way too loud and overpowered the softness of Jonghyun’s voice while singing the beginning of this song. The audio technicians should have changed the volume of the microphone or something since it’s never a good thing if the band is louder than the singer. As of the performance of the song, Jonghyun was rolled inside on some arm chair by some pretty female dancers who tried to ‘seduce him?’ I’m not sure, but they also stripped him off his purple jacket and his tie later into the performance, so I guess we can call it the art of seducing Kim Jonghyun. But like I’ve mentioned earlier while I loved the dancers during the concert in December, I felt like they didn’t fit the mood for the letter series, but do you do Jonghyun or SM, whoever decided that it’s a good idea to include dancers. He wore a purple suit during this segment by the way. There was a fan account that stated that he looked slimmer, because the pants fitted looser around his thighs than they had done before. I agree with that account since the pants indeed were a little looser, but I’m not sure this had anything to do with weight loss. Is it possible to lose so much weight around one’s thighs in a mere week? I don’t know. I don’t know. It also doesn’t matter…he looks beautiful no matter the shape or size! So, let’s move on.

‘Staring into Space’ was absolutely adorable, but I didn’t expect anything else, just watching him put on the robe and the little bed cap made everyone in the audience squeal in delight and him smile shyly in return. He knows he looks adorable in that outfit, but he still always acts surprised when the audience is more excited about him dressing up in cutesy outfits than seeing him undress himself. Anyway, the props for this performance stood on the left side of the stage. Some boxes, some lights, something he could sit/lie on. I’m not sure what it was exactly, something like a bench covered in pillows and a blanket? At first he only sat on it while singing, and I was already like…boooohh everyone said how adorable you get during this performance, don’t disappoint me now! As if he had heard my thoughts he lay down with that little dog plushie (that wore some polka dotted hoodie) and pulled down the sleeping mask, and then playfully tugged the mask down on one side so only one eye peeked out. You can imagine the squeals coming from all sides. He continued with pulling the other side down as well so his nose and his mouth were basically covered by the sleeping mask. It looked adorable. He’s such an adorable human being and he’s very aware of that. After the performance ended he got up to take the robe off and he was quite amused by the disappointed reaction of the audience, because everyone wanted to see him continuing the concert in that outfit. It’s definitely a look! Next SHINee comeback should include sleeping masks and robes.

For ‘Blinking Game’ some fancy looking lights were lowered onto the stage behind Jonghyun, and the scenery gave off the atmosphere of some fancy jazz club, and one only waited for a contrabass to start playing.

We used the hand bells for ‘Gloomy Clock’, and Jonghyun had a lot of fun altering the rhythm randomly to confuse the audience. Sometimes he really does act like a little kid, having the most fun by bringing mischief to the stage. But it shows how much he enjoys performing, and seeing him have so much fun, makes one’s heart feel really warm and fuzzy.

I’m quite sad that the talk segments were basically me sitting around and having no idea what Jonghyun was talking about. That’s what I personally like about the Japanese concerts, because there I understand most of the things they say, which is quite nice. But yeah, it’s not their fault that I don’t speak Korean. Anyway, before the cockroach song he looked for a couple again (apparently there was none…or no one wanted to out themselves) so he picked out some girl who had been single for a very long time. I only understood a few words, and tried to figure out the content of their conversation by clutching onto every straw that was thrown, and after that one fan account I was surprised to realize that I wasn’t that off with my speculations. It was really fun listening to their conversation, because that girl was very fierce (I loved her since she was not shy to voice her opinion) and ranted so much that she apologized several times when Jonghyun got all ㅎㅅㅎ--- O_O--- :’D and wondered why she sounded like she was mad at him. It was adorable. She mentioned Minho at some point, but I’m not sure what she said. Did she refer to him as her ideal type? I don’t know.

The cockroach song was awesome live, and the animation of the cockroaches were so adorable! Especially when one cockroach was sitting on Jonghyun’s head. He got all embarrassed when he saw himself on the screen with that cockroach head on his, and started laughing. Speaking of little, embarrassed Jonghyun. He also got very shy when all the fans excitedly waved their fan lights around when he sung the now infamous lyrics of ‘Where are you?” You know the drill. It was amusing. But what else did he expect the reaction of fans to be when he wrote those lyrics? Probably no one is going to look at him in disgust when he sings ‘Where is the person who is going to kiss me?’ Are there any fan accounts about what Minho did during this part when he attended the concert yesterday? I expect Choi to jump up from his seat and point at himself!

The second girl he talked to was one of the people who sent in letters. I have absolutely no idea what the conversation was about, but she was very shy and said annyeonghaseyo very, very awkwardly and shyly and also sounded slightly bored on top of it (an interesting mix), which Jonghyun apparently found quite amusing and mimicked the greeting in the same awkward manner and tone. We can conclude Jonghyun likes to play and tease the audience. In general I got the feeling that he really enjoys talking to the fans, listen to their stories, and give them advice. It felt like group therapy session with Doctor Kim. For the talk segments he walked around the stage and when reading the letters he sat in an arm chair in the middle of it. At some point he was wearing a huge white shirt with a wide collar and some pretty necklace. It was such a nice and dreamy outfit. Did I mention how beautiful his eye make-up was done? His eyes looked so pretty and shiny, and… *inserts all the hearts*.

The stages I feared the most were the ones starting off with ‘Let me out’. I really thought I would start crying him a river right then and there, but luckily that didn’t happen. The prop for this stage consisted of some cocoon looking 2m tall foldable wall that surrounded him, and he wore all black with a black corsage like binder around his waist. Let me tell you that corsage did things to his figure. I mean we all know he has a tiny waist, but that binder only emphasized that, which made his shoulders and arms look massive while it made his waist look even tinier. Especially when seen from the side with the light falling onto him he looked like some statute in a museum. I think this was my favorite outfit of the night, because he just looked very dark and mysterious, but also very soft and beautiful at the same time. This guy is just a contradiction, but what else is new.

Like some fan accounts already stated the performance to ‘Let me out’ is quite intense and Jonghyun puts his everything into it, but just like with ‘Suit up’ the band overpowered him during the quieter parts, which is a pity. I don’t know if this was a general problem and just no one mentioned it until now, because fans tend to throw all form of critic out of the window as soon as they are graced by his presence or if the concert I attended was an exception. Maybe they should have arranged those songs differently, because performing them live requires some special attention in my opinion so the haunting feeling of the music and lyrics get across to the audience. After ‘Let me out’ Jonghyun pushed the cocoon open and continued with ‘Elevator’, one of my all-time favorite Jonghyun songs. It was very powerful and I sat in the audience with goosebumps.

The duets between Jonghyun and Shawols were beautiful. He should consider recording a song with a bunch of Shawols as duet partners in future. I especially liked the Shawol duet to ‘Love belt’, because it makes it easier to yell ‘I NEED YOU. I LOVE YOU…HOLD ME’ at Jonghyun without seeming like a crazy person. (/・・)ノ

The VCR before the encore seems to change every so often and while it was a rice brand Jonghyun advertised last week, he did some advertising for a drink this week. He tried to act as if he was seducing that bottle in his hand, and ran it along his face and so on. It looked hilarious. I laughed so hard. I live for funny VCRs. After the video ended everyone’s head suddenly turned to the entrance of the theater, and I was like ‘What is going on? Why is everyone turning their head around?’ I figured out why around ten seconds later when Jonghyun came down the aisle on the left side for ‘Deja Boo’ and everyone started screaming. Holy guacamole I wasn’t ready for seeing Jonghyun that close. I thanked all existing Gods on this planet that I sat in the left block so he passed me only a few feet away and came to a halt right in front of my block. HE’S SO TINY!!!! *USES ALL CAPSLOCK IN THE EXISTENCE OF CAPSLOCK* AND SO BEAUTIFUL!!!! Wow, I was so dumbfounded that I just stared at him like the weak fangirl I am. How do people survive fan signs? I mean yes, he’s just a normal human being, no need to put him on any pedestals (that’s 100% correct) but holy daisy…if he isn’t one of the most beautiful human beings I was able to lay my eyes on. His skin was glowing! If it had been me standing right in front of him in that first row I probably would have gaped at him without feeling any shame. He has just a very engaging aura. I mean it is one thing to see him up close on stage, but when he’s literally on eyelevel with you…oh my oh my…how do people manage to act all normal around him? Are they dying on the inside from all the tiny firework explosions and fan feels? Tell me your secrets survivors of the US fan meets!

Random anecdote: 10 years ago I met my back then favorite guitar player during a meet and greet and expected to die right then and there. However, I didn’t die and I carried a table with him instead and told him how tiny he is, which resulted in the singer laughing and saying ‘Well, what a nice compliment!’ Me being as smooth as a spiky cactus. So thinking about this fan girl episode of mine I probably would say something stupid instead of dying inside. But I matured, I wouldn’t call Jonghyun tiny to his face. I learned from this embarrassing episode that still haunts me at night sometimes.

The concert ended with ‘Fortune Cookie’ and ‘Beautiful tonight’. As always Jonghyun directed the audience during ‘Beautiful tonight’ and I looked at every kazoo around me in envy. I wanted to become a kazoo kid. I will forever be bitter about this. But I might just buy one from ebay and start my kazoo career anyway. No need for Jonghyun’s concert logo on this genius music instrument. I loved how he cherished every single person in the band accompanying him, and jammed along to every instrument. He played air bass guitar, it was so adorable and cute and I just wanted to pinch his cheeks and pat his head.

The ending of a concert always makes me feel very empty and this time was no different. As soon as Jonghyun left the stage I felt a wave of ‘So this was it. The final goodbye’. It’s always the worst part of a concert, because you just don’t want it to be over yet. The concert was a little over 2 hours, I believe, and everyone stormed out of the concert hall to wave Jonghyun goodbye at SM Town’s side entrance. When I arrived at SM Town that day I tried to figure out where all those ‘Arrival’ and ‘Departure’ photos had been taken, but I didn’t have to look long for it, because the entrance is right next to the actual entrance of SM Town. So, I followed the crowd and waited behind a barrier. I think at least half of the audience waited for him there, and most of them had their phones and cameras ready, already filming the door. Some of the girls even had little stools they could stand on so they could see the entrance better. He exited the building shortly after, waved into the crowd like usual and then disappeared into the waiting car. Nothing too dramatic…

It was a beautiful concert; very cozy and somehow very intimate. I for one belong to the group of people who prefer small venues, and I never understand why some fans have it as a goal to attend a Tokyo Dome concert at least once in their lives. I mean you do you, but it sounds more fun than it actually is. I already disliked the size of Saitama Super Arena with a little over 30.000 seats and I don’t want to imagine how a hall filled with over 50.000 must feel like. Yes, the ocean might look beautiful with 50.000, but it already looks beautiful with 500, so I don’t know what the big deal is…especially if you happen to only get a ticket on the fourth/fifth floor. But to each their own I guess. One needs to have a goal in life after all, and if it’s attending a SHINee concert, then that’s a really good one! So, you go Shawols! ^^

I should end this here, but I want to add a last note on the global packages. Last year I got a global package for the first X-Inspiration concert, because a) I didn’t know better b) his first concert was on my birthday and therefore I wanted to go there whatever the cost. As most of you know the global packages are very pricy to begin with, but in the case of the X-Inspiration concerts they also offered a lot in return, and you could choose the price category of the hotel. So after calculating everything, I thought, well the price is not too bad, and I still don’t regret buying that package, because it was a wonderful experience that I treasure a lot. However, this time the prices for the global packages were even higher, you couldn’t choose the price category, and they offered nothing at all except for the goodies. All I thought was ‘SM, what are you doing???’ This being said, if you have the money, just go for it, but if you are on a budget you might want to look around a little. There are trustworthy Korean sites which people use to resell their tickets and if you are lucky enough you might find a ticket to a reasonable price. The one I found was only 40$ more than the original price and was a seat in the third row, so I’m not complaining.

So, in conclusion: Did I have fun at the concert? Yes, I did! Was it enjoyable? Yes, definitely. Would I do it again? Oh yeah, anytime. There is just something about Jonghyun or SHINee as a whole group that makes me incredibly happy, and I’m very thankful that they never fail to put a smile onto my face. ♡

Thank you! (♡＾▽＾♡)

#kim jonghyun #jonghyun #SHINee #dü speaks #the agit #SHINee adventures in Japan

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