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corpsentry · 3 years

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ao3 mirror

fandom: age of calamity, botw rating: g starring: prince sidon and mipha note: spoilers for both games

"You know, Daruk’s my idol,” Yunobo says. He pumps his fists in the air like a kid at a fun fair in line for the big pirate ship ride. “They say he was the coolest Goron there ever was. Plus he had a beard. I think beards are awesome.”

“Great,” Sidon says. He stops peeling the mandarin in his hands for long enough to look up blankly at him. "Mipha was my sister."

the age of calamity, side b.

The thing about time travel is, even if someone stands in front of you and tells you point-blank that there’s a way to bring your dead sister back to life, you’re probably not going to believe them.

“I don’t believe you,” says Sidon.

“Okay,” Teba says patiently, fluffing his feathers with an absent glide of his wing. “Try harder.”

Sidon stares at him. He tries harder, though he’s not sure what that entails and so doesn’t end up really doing anything. “I don’t get you.”

“Which part don’t you get?”

“I get to see Mipha again?”

Teba’s eyebrow twitches. “Let me put this as simply as I can, Prince,” he says, a little too loudly. The soldier stationed at the bottom of the staircase turns to look at them. “We’re going to go back to the point a hundred years ago at which the four champions were killed in their divine beasts. We’re going to save them. We’re going to make sure they defeat Ganon before he can send Hyrule into ruin. And then we’re going to leave.”

By now, they’ve caught everyone’s attention. It’s been a long time since a hundred years ago, but here in Zora’s Domain it still feels like the events of last Tuesday, to be recounted over salt tea and fish skewers, to be mourned over an empty coffin. Everyone’s staring at the big white bird with the angry eyebrows, a little curious, a little apprehensive. For what he’s worth, Teba is indifferent. This much will not faze him.

Sidon twiddles his thumbs behind his back, where Teba cannot see them and the guards at the bottom of the staircase can point and laugh all they want. To be honest, he heard nothing. His heart stopped when he heard ‘killed in their divine beasts’, at which point a watery monster punched its way into his skull and crushed his brain. The monster is nothing concrete, nothing crystal-clear, just what little Link has told him, bits and pieces of a history he was prevented from taking part in. It’s been several months since the kid dragged his beaten-up body halfway across Hyrule and kicked Ganon’s ass, though they’re still feeling the after-effects of that particular calamity today. Mipha’s statue still looms over their heads, a reminder of what it means to die alone and far away from home.

“So,” Sidon starts, hearing his voice echoing in his ears like metal slicing through air. “What you’re saying is, I get to see Mipha again.”

Teba looks like he wants to grab one of the guards’ spears and stab Sidon in the face, but for what he’s worth, he reigns it in. “Yes.”

“Okay.” He grins. “I’m in.”

He tried to fight a lynel when he was fifteen. The domain had been overrun with monsters who had arrived for the pre-party to Ganon’s return, including an outstanding number of wizzrobes, several moblins, and a tall, intimidating figure which spat electricity from its pink-tongued mouth and whose name he couldn’t recall. While his father, the king, and his sister, the princess, breezed through the area like a lightning strike, reclaiming keeps and stabbing moblins with silver teeth so their generals could forge a path ahead, Sidon reveled in the wonder of being left unsupervised at four a.m. in the morning. And then heard the familiar, haunting roar of a lynel. And then decided to go and say hi.

It was a mistake, of course. The lynel was so tall he couldn’t make out the gear on its back. Its face was all squished up, like a birthday cake that had been stepped on, and its horns were too big for its thick, blocky nose. This was funny for all of five seconds. Then the lynel extracted a bow from that unknowable space behind it and aimed the sharp end of an arrow at his face, and it became a problem.

“H-h-h-hi,” said Sidon, holding up his Kid Spear, which was strictly for Kid Use Only, and had the offensive capabilities of a stick.

“RHOOARHGHHGHH,” said the lynel.

He jabbed the Kid Spear at the lynel’s leg. The lynel spat at him, though probably unintentionally, as it seemed preoccupied with the arrow it was trying to send into his face. It was stuck. The big scary lynel’s bow was stuck.

Emboldened by the stupid scary lynel’s broken bow, Sidon decided to try again. “Please go away, Mr. Lynel,” he said in his best and most charming Kid Prince voice, twirling his Kid Spear like a sweet jellyfish skewer.

“RHOAHOARHAGHOGHHHH,” said the lynel, who sounded significantly angrier than before.

“I understand,” Sidon said politely, and then closed his eyes and sent a prayer to the goddess Hylia (the way he had been taught to since he was old enough to speak, the way every child in Hyrule knew that there was a place for them to go to after they left this world behind). He braced for impact, which he hoped would be of the violent sort, earth-shattering and brisk enough to break his bones and leave nothing breathing in its wake. He was fifteen, not five. This was Ganon’s era. Every living creature in Hyrule knew this, the way their ancestors woke up and knew which direction the sun would rise from. Not if, but when. When the Calamity strikes. When your people die. When the knight emerges from the woods with the sacred sword in his hand, and saves you all.

But none came. When he opened his eyes, and he did so reluctantly, adrenalin coursing through his veins like thunder, the world was pitch black. In place of the cool blue moon was his sister, her ceremonial gear glittering darkly, the Lightscale Trident glowing like a star in her right hand.

“Holy shit,” whispered Sidon the kid. Mipha stabbed the lynel in the face.

She hugged him when it was all over and they had put the moblins and the wizzrobes and the electric moblin (so that’s what it was! Terrifying) back to sleep. Their father was upset, but he was frequently upset at Sidon and so it didn’t bother him as much as it could have. Sidon was not Mipha. It was all right if he got things wrong, as long as his sister never did. Coincidentally, the Hylian princess had been in the area at the time of the attack, accompanied by a knight with blue eyes and a Sheikah warrior who looked like she would throw a knife at a fish for sport. It was a good thing Mipha had been at home, and not visiting one of the other tribes or hunting for crabs near Lurelin. It was a good thing she had intervened when she had, lest the pre-party become the real thing.

“Thank you,” said the Hylian princess, trying her best to smooth her brow and failing. She looked anxious, though she had only come to pass on her father’s word, though the word that she had brought was victory.

Mipha smiled at her with a face full of sun. “It is my pleasure.”

He wishes the egg could talk. If the egg could talk then Teba would have less reason to talk, and if Teba talked less then Sidon would have less of a raging headache, which which would make him less of an asshole, which would make their discussions go much more smoothly than the janky, sputtering mess they’ve been all week.

“As I was saying,” says Teba, continuing whatever train of thought he picked up on their way up to Goron City and then dumped unceremoniously by the side of the road. As he does this, Death Mountain spits a chunk of lava out of its steaming gaping top, which lands a few inches shy of his breastplate. He hops backwards without missing a beat and begins fanning himself with one wing.

Riju stops fiddling with the diamond circlet in her hands for long enough to give him a look of inquiry. “As you were saying?”

“I can’t wait to see Daruk.” Yunobo scratches his arm. It makes a sound like two large boulders grinding together. Riju drops the circlet.

“You’re only going to see him for a short while,” Teba comments over the sound of the egg blowing its top at Riju and Sidon plugging his ears with his fingers. “No point getting all worked up about it.”

“You’re just as worked up yourself,” Riju counters. Patricia barks. Teba flinches.

This is true. There are two things Teba won’t shut up about. In ascending order of importance, they are 1) when they should depart for the alternate timeline in which they will prevent their respective ancestors from getting their spirits trapped in giant mechanical monsters for a hundred years, and 2) how incredible Revali is. Because Revali was the most powerful Rito warrior that ever walked the land (or flew over it, or blasted bomb arrows at it, whatever). Revali singlehandedly invented an entire style of aerial combat which involves launching yourself into the air with an updraft that defies the laws of the universe and then setting your surroundings on fire. Revali killed god.

Teba looks like he wants to go back to his wife and kid in Rito village. Good for him. Not all of them have bodies to put in coffins. “I just want to meet him once,” he says quietly.

Yunobo laughs, and it sounds like two extra large boulders grinding together. “Me too, brother.” He picks up the diamond circlet from the floor and puts it on his head like some kind of weird hat. “I’m going to tell Daruk how great he is. And then I’m going to go home.”

One time when they were much, much younger, before he woke up one morning and Mipha was three times his height, one of the guards brought back some durians. The durians were misshapen and spiky and smelled intimidating, though Sidon wouldn’t go as far as to say that the smell was unpleasant. The guard had obtained them from a merchant in the Faron region. He hadn’t meant to purchase them, but they were the last of her stock and she said she could only head home once she had sold everything. He empathized her.

At first they tried to open the durians with their hands, but this only produced several pricked fingers and left ominous and eerily substantial bloodstains everywhere, so someone brought out a spear, almost drove it through the table, and someone else brought out a carving knife. Halfway through the spectacle of watching one of the guards, who was thirty-seven and enjoyed collecting glowing stones as a hobby, attempt to de-spike an entire durian, the crowd parted abrutpyl.

“What are you all doing?” Mipha put her hand absently on Sidon’s head. He had been watching the ongoing debacle out of some kind of morbid curiosity, standing on tip-toes so he could peek over the top of the table, though now he had apparently been relegated to armrest.

“Trying to open this durian, your highness.”

Mipha laughed. His sister’s laugh was a delicate, heartrending affair, like trying to pull weeds from the bottom of a lake without breaking them at the stem. The weather at home was always more or less divine, but whenever Mipha laughed, Sidon swore it blasted a hole right through the clouds. If there were no clouds, then the hole appeared in the fabric of the sky instead. Mipha, at her brightest, was a walking catastrophe of sun.

Still chuckling a little, like she’d been made privy to a secret that none of them knew about, Mipha stepped up to the cutting board. “You have to do it like this,” she said cheerfully, digging her fingers into a seam in the durian’s shell like she’d been dealing with danger all her life.

Cue gasping. Cue the horrors of childbirth.

The durian was sweet. It was also a little goopy, but Sidon was no stranger to things which stuck to your fingers and refused to let go (he was one of those objects when it came to his sister, who he could rarely be found more than an arm’s length away from on any given day), so he felt for the little spiky fruit, and decided that he would make an effort to bring some back home when he went traveling himself in the future. While he examined the inside of the durian’s shell, which had been hollowed of fruit and had the texture of rough sandpaper, the guards crowded around Mipha and demanded that she share her secret to not getting stabbed to death by the fierce and terrifying durian. But either she didn’t know how to explain it to them, or they weren’t very good at listening, because she remained the only one capable of cracking open a durian with her bare hands for many, many years, up until she died while fighting a watery manifestation of Ganon inside the divine beast she had been told by the king of Hyrule to pilot to victory’s end. Then it was someone else’s turn to take over.

Painkillers for fish are a tricky affair. To begin with, charmingly little research has been conducted into the biology of the fish-person because the Zoras simply aren’t interested in how their bodies work, and while others have offered to do so in their place, among them several enthusiastic Sheikah researchers and one Hylian with a thing for huge glowing orbs, his people have never cared enough to give their consent. It’s a unique kind of apathy, one which stems from a place of privilege, or denial. They are, as a general statement of fact, very good at both.

“This will help.” Yunobo hands him a rock roast. Where did Yunobo get a rock roast from? Sidon frowns. They’re in the middle of the desert.

“Thanks,” Sidon says. Smiles. Kind of, like, holds the roast up to his mouth and gives it a sniff. It doesn’t smell half as good as durian. He puts it down.

It takes him several days to make sense of the convoluted sequence of events that Teba presented to him that day on the front door of the world he had rebuilt from scratch, surrounded by mystique and glamor and promising, in a breath of cold air, to bring his dead sister back to life. This makes it sound like he’s finished making sense of it all and will thus never be confused ever again, but if he’s to be entirely honest, he still doesn’t get it. He wants to. He’s scared to. He won’t look Teba in the eye.

“We should get going soon, don’t you think?” says Riju, who is twelve and somehow more put-together than all four of them combined. She pulls another book from the shelf and leaves it on the pile on the desk.

Yunobo shrugs loudly. “Doesn’t make a difference when we leave, does it? We could leave for Hyrule in twenty years, and we’d still end up at the same place.”

“But I want to save them,” Riju says earnestly. The pile behind her has been growing all afternoon, and will soon overtake her in height if she is not stopped. Mission preparation looks like archaeological excavation when you’re traveling backwards in time, and not forwards to some yet unknown destination. Ancient Sheikah records. Research journals. The writings of people who were obsessed with the events of a hundred years ago despite having no personal investment to speak of, and whose words carry with them a hint of reverence, even as they choreograph the funeral song of the old king. This is all that’s left of those ruins, aside from Link, who they’ve all quietly decided to keep uninformed of the current proceedings. Hyrule itself has been kept in the dark. No need for them to know about the maybes and the what-ifs and the could-have-beens. No need for more people to go crazy.

Sidon shuts the book in his hands with a thud. “But why?”

Riju’s eyes go wide. Drama queen. “Why what?”

Sidon opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again. There’s a heat rash on the back of his neck which he can’t quite reach on his own. The elders had warned him about the desert, but the charm he received from Link has proven to be effective in all areas except for maintaining good skincare. He blinks dumbly at Riju, who has begun to flicker like the glassy surface of a pond. His eyes hurt.

“I mean, why do you.” His eyes hurt. His throat hurts. There’s something large and horrible stuck in his chest, and he can’t get it out. “Why do you want to save them?” There’s a durian in his rib cage. It must have lodged itself there when Teba glared at him like he was an idiot as he came face to face with the cruel reality of the universe, and it dawned on him like a dead body falling out of the sky that he would get to see Mipha one last time, and then he would have to come back. To a Hyrule without her. To the stupid stuck-up world that had to try again and again and again, coughing up blood and dragging itself through the dirt on bruised knees, before it could defeat the monster. “It’s not like they’ll come back to life,” he says, each word a silver knife in his mouth. “They’ll stay dead here. They’re already dead.”

Silence.

Riju has let everything go, including the diamond circlet, the topaz earrings, and three volumes sheathed in gold. Yunobo’s mouth is open so wide, you could stick your head inside and take a look around if you leaned in close enough. For the first time since he met him, Teba is at a loss for words. His chest rises and falls erratically, his hand on the bookshelf quivering, his eyebrows doing a little dance on his forehead. He’s sweating. Of course he is. They’re in the desert.

Riju, Hylia bless her soul, is the first to speak.

“It’s the spirit of things,” she says softly. She looks sadder than any twelve-year-old should ever have to look. But then and again, Sidon was barely old enough to hold a spear with both hands when his sister died and everything went to shit. Then and again, everything goes away eventually.

Sidon stares at her helplessly for a moment, gulping the humid air of the library like a fish out of water, then gives up and walks out of the room. He spends the rest of the afternoon blowing bubbles in the pool beside Kara Kara Bazaar while the other three continue their work, and then buys a durian from one of the vendors and hacks it open with his spear. You can’t crack open a durian with your bare hands, unless you’re Mipha, in which case you can do anything. It’s a good thing, then, that she’s gone.

When they were children and they got into trouble, his father would always scold Mipha far more harshly than Sidon. Mipha was the older sibling, after all. She should know better. This dynamic remained firmly established between them even as Mipha grew into her role as princess, future ruler, and eventually, champion. Of course, the reprimandings grew less stern, but Sidon had a penchant for winding up in places he wasn’t supposed to be in and Mipha had a penchant for being with him whenever this happened. He secretly resolved to pay her back when he got older and was finally able to stand up to his father, and therefore explain that most of the things they got into trouble for were his idea. He would be the one to weep at his father’s feet while his sister looked on with a horrified expression, and in that moment she would understand how much he loved her.

Then she died. You can’t tell the story of Mipha without this part. Mipha was a humble, kind girl, and then she died. Mipha could crack open a durian with her bare hands, and then she died. Mipha was the pride of their people, and then she died, and she died, and she died.

You can’t change the past with the wave of a hand. You’re not a bird. You’re not a fortune-teller. You’re a fish-person with an empty coffin for a sister, and in a few weeks’ time, you’re going to save her specter.

“...What if I brought her back with me?”

“Huh?”

“Hahajustkidding. No way I’d do that. Not a chance.”

“Um. Do you need painkillers?”

“Thanks, but they don’t work on me. I’m over a hundred years old, you see. Us Zoras, we’re different.”

The day before departure. They’re back at Zora’s domain. It’s raining. Teba is running through a checklist of items to bring with them which is so long, he has to hold it above his head to prevent it from touching the floor. Riju is feeding Patricia mandarin peels.

“You know, Sidon.”

Sidon looks up from his mandarin. “Mm?”

Yunobo grins at him. “Daruk’s my idol,” he says proudly. He pumps his fists in the air like a kid at a fun fair in line for the big pirate ship ride. “They say he was the coolest Goron there ever was. Plus he had a beard. I think beards are awesome.”

“Great,” says Sidon, as enthusiastically as he can, because he genuinely wants to be happy for Yunobo who is finally going to meet his idol and has clearly dreamed about this moment for some time. He wants to be happy for all of them. He fucking wants to. This is a rescue mission, not the imprisonment Princess Zelda walked into in Hyrule castle, not the hundred-year nap Link took on the Great Plateau. This is a happy ending, even if it’s not theirs.

Daruk the idol. Urbosa the warrior. Revali the bird. Sidon pictures them in his head, the way Link described them to him once, his voice carrying across the water like beams of light.

“Mipha was—”

He stops peeling the mandarin in his hands, his nails still embedded in the soft skin of it, the white-tinged flesh peeking out like a wound. Outside, the rain keeps falling. A river of tears from the sky.

Yunobo tilts his head to the side. “Mipha was?”

Mipha was the pride of their people. Mipha was the first person he wanted to live forever. Mipha was the only one he knew who could crack open a durian with her bare hands, like she was peeling open the heart of a monster, only to reveal that it had been something soft and scared all along. Mipha was a flesh-and-blood person. Mipha was the light of their world. Mipha is an empty coffin with a name inscribed on the lid, a house with the lights off, a memory drenched in ocean.

Yunobo prods his shoulder, though he barely feels a thing. “Mipha was?” he repeats kindly, herding him along to the end of the line, to the boat at the edge of the water.

Sidon puts the mandarin away. He stares long and hard at Yunobo, and hopes that his eyes will convey the wound his body no longer knows how to carry.

“Mipha was my sister.”

Let’s say you’ve been entrusted with the future of your kingdom. There’s a bad guy coming, and everyone’s scared to death, so you learn how to pilot this big robotic elephant which shoots turrets of water like a machine gun, and you get really good at it, and when the bad guy arrives on your new friend’s birthday suddenly you can’t do it anymore. You’re trapped inside the giant elephant. You’re bleeding out all over the floor. Your chest hurts like something awful, and your vision is beginning to blur. Sensing your despair, the monster closes in on you, wielding that big blue trident like fury. It holds the sky up over your head, and as it does so you close your eyes. You send a prayer to the goddess Hylia (the way you have been taught to since you were old enough to hold your little brother in your arms, the way every child in Hyrule knows that there is a place for them to go to after they leave this world behind). You brace for impact, which you hope will be the gentle sort, a slap to the wrist that’s conclusive enough to break your bones and leave nothing breathing in its wake. You’re twenty, not five. This is the end of all things as you know it. Every living creature in Hyrule knows this, the way their ancestors woke up one day and knew that this world would come to ruin. Not if, but when. When the Calamity strikes. When everyone you’ve ever loved dies. When you walk into the mouth of the elephant, and the elephant changes its mind, and decides to keep you in its belly forever.

None arrives. You open your eyes slowly, hesitantly, fear a living memory in your bones, but you are not faced with the stinging end of a trident. In its place is a boy almost three times your height, his eyes glittering darkly, the spear in his right hand shining like a star.

He is not your brother. But, Hylia bless you all, he is.

So what can you say, when the evil has been defeated and you are standing on the balcony of the castle, smiling up at him through tears while this big overgrown baby stares at you like you’re the answer to the universe, except:

We’ll definitely meet again, won’t we?

He flinches, but you don’t ask, and he doesn’t say why. He pulls you into an earth-shattering, bone-crushing hug. It’s a beautiful day to be alive, the sun shining like sin, Hyrule’s beaten but stubbornly breathing carcass laughing up at you from the fields below. He takes your hands in his. He’s shivering. He’s shaking from head to toe.

Of course, he says in the kindest, saddest voice you’ve ever heard, though he has only come to pass on someone else’s words, though the word he has brought is salvation. From now on, I’ll always be by your side.

: : : : :

You smile at him with a face full of stars.

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soldierkiara · 3 years

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Mercy/Ashe

A commission for @shanachan101! I hope you enjoy it, and thank you very much for commissioning me! “Get OUT of here! You’re absolutely worthless! Complete garbage!”

The sight of a tear-stained intern rushing from Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe (Otherwise known as Miss Ashe)’s office was not an uncommon sight. Her previous assistant had been fired after only three days working for Miss Ashe’s company, and the assistant before that didn’t even last the morning. Ashe always started with one simple task that more often than not weeded out those who were not suited for the position as her assistant; fetch a cup of coffee.

Most assistants would be surprised by her seemingly simple request; after all, how hard was it to get a cup of coffee? Then they began to expect some convoluted and difficult-to-remember order. But the order was simple as well. One large macchiato, with an extra shot of espresso. NOT a cortado, and with a chocolate cake pop on the side. Despite the simple instructions, it seemed that no intern or potential hiree was able to get this order correct. Miss Ashe was known for her short temper, and an incorrect coffee was the first step to a rotten day. The intern today had completely forgotten the cake pop, and brought back a large cortado. A simple mistake, but wrong nonetheless. Papers being slammed against the desk was able to be heard from down the hall of the office to where the rest of her workers sat, diligently keeping their heads down to avoid her wrath. Generally she was a “fun” boss; despite her temper she also had a sharp tongue, and was never short of a clever comeback to someone’s sass. Those with a faint of heart would never last in Miss Ashe’s company, and she made sure to remind each and every new employee that walked through her doors, and out of them as well.

“Can SOMEBODY PLEASE find me a decent fuckin’ assistant!” She yelled, not directly at anybody. “All I want is a cup o’ coffee!” She could totally go get the coffee herself, but what was the point in hiring someone who couldn’t complete the most important job of her morning? Just to avoid strife and constant stress from the angry boss, one of her more experienced workers goes to retrieve her order, hoping to satisfy her boss in even one aspect. After receiving her coffee, Miss Ashe was able to start her work day.

It was over as quick as it started, most of her staff already gone for the day. She glanced at the clock, pushing some hair out of her face absentmindedly before turning her attention back to the pile of paperwork still sitting unfinished on her desk. Knowing she had an early meeting, she decided to abandon the paperwork for the night to go get some much needed shut-eye.

The next morning, Ashe was surprised to see an unfamiliar figure standing outside of her office door. “What do you want.” Ashe half barked, her hair slightly tousled from her early morning meeting that had left her almost ripping her hair out.

The figure turned, and Ashe couldn’t help but be surprised by what, by who stood before her. Beautiful soft blonde hair held at bay by a peach coloured scrunchie, soft pink lips, beautiful blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with the innocence of an assistant not yet broken by their superior. “My name is Angela. Angela Ziegler. It is a pleasure to officially meet you, Miss Ashe. I’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about you.” Her comment earned a small scoff from the boss.

“Have you now. You still haven’t said what you want.” Already not listening to orders. This girl won’t last the hour. What were they thinking sending this young thing to me?

“I apologize, I was under the impression that you were the boss of this establishment. Clearly I was mistaken due to the fact that you were unable to assume I was your new assistant.” Her tone was light, a soft smile playing at her lips as she spoke, even though her words dripped with what seemed to be thinly-veiled disrespect, something that Miss Ashe did not tolerate in the slightest.

“Listen, girl, I will NOT be disrespected by some young little city girl with a smart mouth who thinks she can talk to me that way.” She snapped, noting the silence from her other staff. Clearly they were listening, and Ashe felt a brief flash of pity for whoever made the mistake of hiring this bright-eyed bimbo.

The blonde, Angela, didn’t even flinch at the words being half shouted in her face. “I apologize Miss Ashe. I had gathered that you weren’t exactly the type to have people kiss the ground that you walked on. At least, that was what I had heard during my research into your company and your leadership style. I quite admire the razor sharp tongue that others have come to fear.” She tipped her head and shoulders forward slightly into a bow. “I did not mean any disrespect, and I hope that I didn’t wound you too greatly.” Angela’s eyes met those of Miss Ashe, almost daring her to scream in her face again.

Instead, Ashe pushed past Angela with a scornful look. She unlocked the office door, quickly making her way over to the large oak desk that held the stacks of reminders of her unfinished work. “Whatever. If you actually plan on staying here for more than an hour, make yourself useful and get me a coffee, will you?” She placed her hat on the window ledge behind her desk before pulling out the nice looking office chair that was almost like a second home to Ashe.

“It would be my pleasure. What is your order, Miss Ashe? I’ll write it down so I don’t get it incorrect.” When Ashe glanced up, she noticed Angela was already armed with a pen and paper on a clipboard Ashe hadn’t noticed until now.

“Listen carefully, got it?” She barked again, and Angela nodded. “I want one large macchiato, with an extra shot of espresso. NOT a cortado. With a chocolate cake pop on the side.” Ashe made sure to speak a little louder and clearly, as she did with every intern she gave this order to. “And make sure to get it from the coffee shop three doors down from here. None of that Starbucks crap. Got it?”

“Yes Ma’am. I will be back shortly with your breakfast.” Once again she bowed her head before turning on her heel and quickly departing.

Ashe sighed to herself. “She’s not terrible. I have to admit, I kind of like the attitude. Definitely not the doe-eyed blonde I was expecting.” She murmured to no one in particular, leaning back in her chair and placing the hat over her face, as if the fabric would be able to shield her from the unfinished work that was taunting her from the moment she stepped foot through the door to her office. If only she could get just a moment’s peace-

Ashe jumped at the soft sound of a knock at her door. “What, what?!” She yelped slightly, her feet landing flat on the ground as she jerked forward back into the normal sitting position, her hat floating to the ground. She looked up to the smiling face of Angela.

“I brought what you requested, ma’am. I apologize for disturbing your apparently much needed power nap.”

“What are you dragging on about?” She snapped defensively. “I wasn’t nappin’, I barely shut my eyes. Are you blind or something?”

“No Ma’am.” Angela said calmly, setting the coffee down on her desk in front of her. “My eyesight is quite good, actually. You’ve been napping for probably about twenty minutes now?” She said, looking up at the clock on the wall. “Yes, about twenty minutes, assuming you fell asleep within five minutes of my departure.” Angela stepped back one step, still holding the cake pop hostage.

Ashe surveyed the cup that was placed in front of her, red eyes narrowed before slowly moving up to Angela’s smiling face. “What’s this?”

“Your coffee.”

“This isn’t the logo from the place I told you to go.” Ashe barked, waving her hand at the cup. “Why didn’t you go to the shop I told you to?”

Angela simply smiled again, clearly not worried about the mistake. “Well, Miss Ashe, when I went to the coffee shop you requested, they informed me that they actually did not make macchiato’s there, only cortado’s, which you explicitly said you did not want. So I left to go to the coffee shop three doors down the other direction, and brought you the coffee you asked for. I also brought the cake pop you asked for. It’s actually quite convenient that I went to the other shop, as the one you told me to go to actually only sold vanilla or birthday cake flavoured cake pops.”

Ashe stared hard at her for a looooong moment, debating whether or not to tell her to shove that cake pop where the sun don’t shine. “...Good job.” She finally said, taking a sip of the coffee. “Finally someone who can follow orders.”

Angela smiled once more, in that angelic way that she seemed to have, and handed over the cake pop. “I’m glad I could fulfill your wishes. If that was sufficient, maybe you would be willing to let me get started on this stack of papers? Assuming these are the ones that haven’t been attended to yet by the way you keep scowling at them.”

Ashe coughed slightly, turning away and leaning back again. “Yeah, take ‘em. Screw them up and you can bet your pretty ass that you won’t ever get to work in this town again, capiche?” She waved her cake pop threateningly, a few sprinkles falling off and onto the desk, which Ashe practically ignored.

“I understand, Miss. Thank you for this opportunity. I promise I’ll be of use to you.”

Ashe looked the blonde up and down for a moment before smirking. “I’m sure you will, doll.” By the end of her first day, Angela had already tackled over a quarter of the very large pile of paperwork. She had worked diligently and quietly for the majority of the day, only stopping to take a break for lunch. The only time she made any sort of noise was when she was calling clients or other important persons on Ashe’s behalf, which Ashe very much appreciated. Ashe had left about halfway through the day, to sit through back to back meetings which seemed almost endless. When she finally returned, she actually found Angela sweeping the area around her desk, a task that Ashe had not asked Angela to do.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” Ashe asked, arms crossed and leaning in the doorway. Angela looked up, tucking a few strands of stray hair behind her ear. “Since it is too late to be calling the associates for the next bit of paperwork, I wanted to keep myself busy while still doing something that was useful. You’re barely able to keep up with the paperwork, so I figured that the basic cleaning was probably a bit neglected as well.” She shrugged slightly, giving her almost a playful smile. “And maybe because I was hoping to catch you before we both left for the day, I stayed in the one place I knew you would have to return to at some point. Pretty devious, huh?”

Was that a flirting tone to her voice? It couldn't have been, though Ashe wasn’t able to deny that she was definitely interested in the woman before her. “..I see.” Was all Ashe could really force herself to say in that moment. “Well..Thanks, I guess.” Ashe walked into the room and over to the desk, picking up the hat that was placed neatly on the windowsill where it was originally placed this morning. “You can go. You’re done for the day. Good job.” Ashe grabbed the keys to her motorcycle and shoved them in her pocket. “Be here at 8am every morning. We’ll discuss your schedule more tomorrow when you come in. What you’re wearing is fine; as long as your underwear can’t be seen I couldn’t care less. I’m going to get a beer.”

“Thank you again, Miss Ashe.” Angela said with a smile, watching her new boss begin to depart. “I don’t normally ask so brazenly, and especially not with my now-boss, but.. Would you care for some company at the bar?”

Ashe glanced over at Angela, briefly wondering what she looked like with her hair down. “..Fine. But sucking up to me won’t get you special treatment.”

“Oh, is it so terrible that someone might want to spend some time with you outside of work?” Angela laughed softly, and Ashe couldn’t help but notice the way the corners of Angela’s eyes crinkled slightly when she laughed.

“Yes.” Ashe replied with a playful snarkiness to her tone. “Now let’s go, if we rush we can still make happy hour. You ‘fraid of motorcycles?”

Angela’s smile widened a bit. “Not one bit.”

“Good.” Was Ashe’s reply as she held the door open for her new assistant. “C’mon then.” Mercy took Ashe’s arm, despite the fact that it wasn’t offered. Ashe glanced down at her, the realization that this girl would probably be her downfall slowly creeping in.

And the worst part was that Miss Ashe was alright with that.

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portfolio- · 7 years

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Thoughts about Ruler: Master of the Mask, Part 10

(Note: This entry is going to be longer than the usual incoherent or coherent posts I've had. I'm still digesting all the feelings I have for this episode because wow, RMOTM actually had the potential to raise the bar.)

I must be a sadist. I watched The Throne last Tuesday, then I watched today's episode. I've mourned Yoo Ah In's Sado, now I mourn for Yoo Seung Ho's Lee Seon (albeit for a short period of time).

The episode last night depicted a good picture of the main theme of this show imo, power, which fits just right as we move headfirst to the climax of the story.

(I’ll be a decent person for once and put this expand post thing here because this entry has more spoilers than I think should be spilled).

Dae Mok proved to be the best villain out of all in the show as he nitpicked on all his enemies. In one swoop, with the fake King's help, he managed to get absolute power within the court and in extension, Joseon. He loves (with whatever is left of his blackened heart) his granddaughter, as we've seen throughout the series, but will not waver in the name of his organization. He tortured the true king with his lover and his most loyal friend, knowing that beneath the regality, he is simply a man who protects the people he care about. I could already feel the satisfaction of seeing him dead when this series ends, in whatever form it will reach him. Props to Heo Jun Ho for being very, very effective on his role.

I feel bad for the queen dowager, but then again, the better villain always prevails. I will miss her being at the top of her game. Kim Sun Kyung is becoming one of my favorite actresses to watch in her generation, second to Jeon Mi Sun.

Hwa Goon actually gained my sympathy this time as her grandfather forced her to bend to his will. I liked the interaction she had with her father, that the latter's love always prevails. They gained my sympathy because beneath all the bullshit they experienced from the head of their family, they never lost the ability to care for each other. I still dislike her for forcing herself to the true king (especially at this episode), but actually felt sad at the idea that she would surrender everything to him. I'll discuss more on the true king later. For now, it will suffice to say that had the true king held hands with Pyunsoo Group by marrying Hwa Goon, it will only ruin them both. I hate her for slapping Ga Eun because the latter has no idea (again, who’s fault is this?) because she had no fucking right. Who set the ball ralling in the first place? Huh? (slaps Hwa Goon because you need to wake up too girl!!) But what takes the cake for me was when Gon lied to Hwa Goon for her sake! And how it breaks Gon to betray his master. Why did the writers fucking threw their pairing aside?! (screams) And when Hwa Goon actually pressed the sword on Gon's neck with the latter remaining steady on his resolve! What a parallel with our main leads. Had the writers went this way, I would have liked Hwa Goon more (even just a smidge of it). Anyway, thumbs up to Kim Seo Kyung for portraying Gon this way, worming in my heart after that fucking Hyun Suk betrayed us all. In the case of Yoon So Hee, she has her moments, but she still feels exhausted to me when she gets angry (except for that scene with Gon). I would have wanted an extra oomph from her, because Hwa Good could have been more likable on my part had she brought the same degree on intensity as the other leads.

The one receiving my ire once more (Actually, not just ire. I want so bad to slap him. I want to inflict physical character on him fucking asshole.) is the fake king. YOU FUCKING POSER GET OFF YOUR FUCKING HIGH HORSE AND FIGHT ME!!!!! (screams) He became a corrupted, guiltless puppet whose selfish intentions ruined the lives of those who actually care for him. FUCK YOU FAKE KING. Just when we thought he was in the right position to help the true king and his lover, jealousy takes over. AIN'T GONNA TAKE MY BABY GIRL'S HEART BASTARD. I hate him so much right now I want to run a sword through him, harakiri style. He fails to see how he would never win Ga Eun's heart. He actually had the nerve to console her after telling her of the true king's "death". FUCK YOU UGH DIE!!!!! In terms of acting, Kim Myung Soo actually played his role fine. While not to the level of his true counterpart (discussed later), he actually managed to bring about this rage within me (for his character).

(Pauses to take a deep breath)

Now, let's go to my babies because HOW DARE YOU WRITER-NIM HURTING THEM GAAAAAAAAAAAH (slaps left and right).

Let's start with our beloved Chung Woon. It's about damn time he confessed to Ga Eun that she was the one to behead her father. (I want to slap the true king for prolonging everyone's agony, but I'll let it slip this time because because because!!! You'll see later.) Can you see how understanding Ga Eun would have been had the truth been told to her all this time? (glares at writer-nim) The fact that she actually comes with Chung Woon proves that. Also, his bromance shone again in this episode, when Dae Mok used him as another bait for the true king to join Pyunsoo Group. WHY DID YOU DO THAT AHHHHHH WHY DID YOU BLIND MY CHUNG WOON! But maybe it is fitting for his guard career to end like this, his blindness as the price he paid for going with the late king's orders. But goodness, who will save the day now?

Another good thing in this episode was how Woo Bo bounced back to his usefulness being a true king's man. The subtle communication he had with the fake king provided him with the answers he needed, and I'm so damn excited for him to execute a plan of action versus Pyunsoo Group. By being fired, so to speak, Woo Bo was placed in the right position to sequester the loyal followers of the true king during his time as the chief peddler. Remember what the true king/chief peddler asks in return, the loyalty of the people he aided as he trained to become who he has been right now? This is the perfect time to call on them. And thank you, Park Chul Min, for being our endearing drunkard. I look forward to your "mental" battle with Dae Mok.

And now. MY BABIES. (hugs YSH and KSH)

I'll start with the true king because damn Yoo Seung Ho, you're giving me a run for my money. This time, we see the true king fight Pyunsoo Group not as a leader, but as a lover. Do I hate him for it, for letting his emotions get the best of him? At first thought, I would have. That's reckless. That's insane. That's not worth it. (This is me speaking with my mind over matter perspective.) But then, watching the entire episode, facing Pyunsoo Group is some sort of rite of passage not just for him, but for Ga Eun as well. I like how dignified he carried himself at the beginning, and how Dae Mok broke him little by little until he was left with no other choice but to relent. He was a gentleman to Hwa Goon through it all, and his standing by his principles and his heart only made him shine all the more. He wouldn't take Hwa Goon because he was a decent person who wouldn't bring about that sort of pain even to his worst enemy. He wouldn't take power that was stolen or taken by spilled by blood. He would not be seduced by power, especially when it stemmed from evil. He would not ascend at the expense of other people, and that's what makes him a good person. I think that is what makes Hwa Goon not appeal to him, because at the core of her kindness towards him is the selfishness that would always be a step away from topping over the edge. We could hate him for his decisions, but we couldn't fault him for wanting what's best for those around him.

And when Dae Mok blinded Chung Woon and he suddenly screamed "Master Dae Mok!" Oh my gosh. I love watching the true king break down. So in character, so true of his vow as the leader of his people.

As a lover, he demanded respect for Ga Eun when she was unceremoniously dragged by Dae Mok's men because in his eyes, she is the rightful queen to his king. He would put her safety first, whether or not he knows that the odds are against him. He would risk his neck if that meant she would not be involved anymore. He took the poison to save Ga Eun, which was his initial intention. At this point, if it were any other actor/person, I would be screaming at how stupid he had been, but YOO SEUNG HO DAMN. He made us feel the depth of his love for the woman who always had his heart, and like any sucker for undying first loves, I succumbed to the storm of emotions brewing within me and cried my heart out.

And Han Ga Eun, the most powerful pawn in the show. The bait to both Lee Suns. The subject of hate and jealousy of Hwa Goon. This episode is another revelation to her, an extension of the trauma-inducing exchange with the true king. Finally, she asked the truth about her father's death to the right person. Finally, she held her own to Hwa Goon face to face (When she was slapped, I was like "Oh no you didn't!" Then when she stopped the latter from slapping her again, I was like "Yeah show her!"). Seriously, Hwa Good had no right after all her actions. Gets Ga Eun's father killed now this? Ha! Going back, I hate the fake king continued to appeal to her by using their old friendship. (One of these days, someone should hand me that asshole's ass.) Now that she would be concubine to the fake king, she would be in the perfect position to make things work for the good. Even if she thinks the true king dead (saving the best for last), I really, really hope they make the best use of her, as the last piece standing. Come to think of it, the queen is the most powerful chess piece right? I shouldn't but I am anticipating some showdown with her on the lead. She is the only hope of the "light" side with everyone thinking the true king dead. From what I could see, she is the best bet of the inner court with Mae Chang and the Chief Eunuch as her guide.

And lastly. Gosh. I know the mourning is short lived, but oh my gosh, did Kim So Hyun and Yoo Seung Ho make me cry like a baby. On the verge of taking the poppy wine, Ga Eun tried to prevent the true king from drinking the poison. The way she told him she would not forgive him for wasting her father's death, then the way she called him His Majesty and telling him that she already knows the truth (I really hate the writers right now for this torture, but I'll take what I can get.) Her desperate cries. Lee Sun calling her "Ga Eun-ah". The moment it hits him that she knows the truth.

The small smile he gave her before drinking the poppy wine (thinking about this scene makes me teary-eyed ugh come on). That small smile reminds me of that scene in Goblin wherein Kim Shin finally defeated the ghost of his enemy and realized that Eun Tak will be safe even at the cost of his immortal life. Here we have two men realizing that they finally get to do something good/save the women they love.

The way Lee Sun fell. The way Ga Eun held the sword to push it out of her way to hold Lee Sun. And that heartbreakingly sad confession. "From the first time I saw you, with all my heart, I loved you." His hand fell. Silence. That look of disbelief in Ga Eun's face. Then her cry. While Lee Sun's body was being carried away, the desperate way she tried to go after him.

WHY OH WHY IS THIS SCENE TORTURING ME

(Also, wow YSH and KSH. WOW. With Dae Mok clapping, you'd think he's clapping for the performance of the two rather than his victory.)

And her disbelief when the fake king confirmed (!!!!!!) that the true king is dead. "I still have so many things to tell him!" Reminds me of that scene in Moon Embracing the Sun when the court members stopped Yeo Jin Goo from running after Kim Yoo Jung as she was banished from the palace when she was cursed upon the request of the Queen Dowager. KSH gutted me.

I cried a lot. I'm so, so exhausted.

Anyway, to close this unbelievably long post, I think what appeals to me about RMOTM is the fine line power creates between good and evil. That the characters who are naturally good remain incorruptible makes me root for them all the more, good writing or not. RMOTM showed us the extremes these characters are willing to take to achieve their ultimate goals.

So to you who reached the end of this post, congratulations. I hope you don't feel as tired as I am composing this.

#spoilers #thoughts #ruler master of the mask #ruler: master of the mask #yoo seung ho #lee sun #han ga eun #kim so hyun #kim myung soo #kim hwa goon #yoon so hee #BREAK MY HEART COME ON

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instantdeerlover · 4 years

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What To Order In When You Want To Feel Like You’re Going Out added to Google Docs

What To Order In When You Want To Feel Like You’re Going Out

Ordering in isn’t the same as going out, but life is about compromises. About making the best of a bad situation. About being told the McFlurry machine is broken again and thinking - ‘that’s okay, I’ll get a Cornetto from the shop’. This is the situation we’re in now. And it means when you do crave that feeling of being wined and dined on a Thursday, Friday, or whatever night, then you need to make it feel a little special. To set the mood. To make your home feel something like the restaurant you crave. Only with your bed next door.

the spots Karolina Wiercigroch Clipstone Restaurant £ £ £ £ British in Fitzrovia ££££ 5 Clipstone Street 8.6 /10

After two months of kneading various balls of dough into various disappointing shapes, it’s time to treat yourself. It’s time to take yourself out of the kitchen, and into a place where dexter beef, potato and black truffle pithiviers are served. Where gravy, no, jus, is delicately poured from a height. What’s that? Your housemate has nothing on tonight? Why not ask them to don a selvedge denim apron and bring your radishes with anchovy cream in? Sure, you’re not quite at Clipstone, but it’s not bad for a Thursday night.

Optional extras: Marble dining table, oversized serving tweezers, a subscription to Cereal magazine.

Karolina Wiercigroch Sushi Atelier £ £ £ £ Japanese , Sushi in Fitzrovia ££££ 114 Great Portland Street 8.3 /10

You’ve washed your hair. You’ve changed out of your Star Wars PJs. You no longer look like a yeti that attended Comic Con. Congratulations, because we’re pretty sure Sushi Atelier has a no ape-like mythical creature policy. You’re going to want to set the scene with a Zen playlist, some dainty flowers on your table, your very best chopsticks, and their big sushi sets delivered. This excellent Japanese spot also has a soft spot for theatrics, including smoke-filled domes and top service, so a little dramatic description of each piece of nigiri whilst dishing up will go a long way.

Optional extras: Dry ice, old school Japanese news clippings, a very majestic mural.

Jamie Lau Gymkhana £ £ £ £ Indian in Mayfair ££££ 42 Albemarle St 9.1 /10

Unless you’re into pirate cosplay, it’s unlikely that your home is going to have required opulence and carats-on-display to recreate Gymkhana’s opulent feel. That said, a dimmer switch and an imagination is all you really need, because their lamb chops, biryani, and butter masala will do the rest of the work for you. Getting a curry in may not seem that unusual, but getting London’s best curry in? That’s as good as going out.

Optional extras: Gold-detailed cutlery, gold-detailed plates, gold-detailed everything.

Giulia Verdinelli Mazi £ £ £ £ Greek in Notting Hill ££££ 12-14 Hillgate St 8.0 /10

We miss going on holiday. In case you’ve forgotten what a holiday is, it’s where you fly somewhere hot and drink so much sangria that you end up dry-humping a lilo by 3pm. We also miss Mazi, a Greek spot in Notting Hill with a foliage-filled back patio that always feels like a holiday on a sunny day. Now they’re delivering their grilled octopus, tzatziki, and more to your door. But getting the feel of this place at home isn’t about having a garden. It’s about a mindset we’ve dubbed Ouzo 4 U. Flip flops, open windows, early Hot Chip albums, and serious daylight boozing encouraged. Don’t miss the calamari.

Optional extras: arty ceramics, full-on foliage, the smell of suntan lotion.

Casa Fofó £ £ £ £ Modern European , Vegetarian in Hackney ££££ 158 Sandringham Road 8.1 /10

Be honest, what are the odds of you making caramelised butter to go with your sourdough? Or having tagliolini with mushroom and dried mandarin dashi for dinner? Absolutely naff all. Unless you’re like a chef, or something. In which case why are you even reading this guide? The point is, Casa Fofó makes some pretty unique and delicious fine-dining style food. And at £22 a head for three courses, it’s an excellent way of bringing some restaurant-only feeling into your front room.

Optional extras: A dictionary, textured ceramics, a bottle of the orange stuff.

Giulia Verdinelli Quality Wines £ £ £ £ British in Clerkenwell , Farringdon ££££ 88 - 94 Farringdon Road 8.0 /10

In the immortal words of noughties pop star and bird enthusiast, Nelly Furtado, it’s time to ‘turn off the lights’. To really get the feel of this little Clerkenwell wine bar at home you’re going to need candles and a small space. That’s right, the fact you live in a flat clearly only fit for The Rescuers is finally a perk. You’re going for an aura of lowkey, candlelit sophistication. Basically, if it looks like a borderline fire hazard you’re doing it right. When it comes to the food, their three-course delivery options change weekly, but expect things like gnocchetti sardi with fennel sausage, pistachio and orange upside down cake, and a ricotta and aubergine salad.

Optional extras: a bottle of merlot, fogged-up windows, the menu written on a big blackboard.

Din Tai Fung £ £ £ £ Taiwanese in Covent Garden ££££ 5-6 Henrietta St 6.9 /10

Sometimes, the 100% real experience is not what you want. Sometimes, you want to watch The Irishman over several months in 15-minute segments on your phone, on the toilet. Sometimes, the idea of queuing to get into a restaurant is frankly outrageous. If that sounds like you, then you’ll be happy to hear that walk-in-only Din Tai Fung is now delivering their dim sum, and there isn’t even an online queue to navigate. Make an order and throw your family behind some plexi-glass for a little extra authenticity.

Optional extras: A queue barrier outside your front door, steamer baskets, white aprons.

Karolina Wiercigroch Brigadiers £ £ £ £ Indian in City ££££ 1-5 Bloomberg Arcade 8.7 /10

Short of building a tardis or hitting up Doctor Strange, getting the best lamb chops in London delivered is a sure fire way of feeling like you’re back at Brigadiers. This big Indian restaurant in the City has a whisky vending machine, a pool table, and big screens for the football. Are we suggesting these should be your three next quarantine purchases? We’re not not saying that. But the main thing you need is several cold pints, a favourite game on in the background, and their butter chicken on your table. Did we mention the best lamb chops in London?

Optional extras: pool table, a monkey-shaped lamp, a shrine to Thierry Henry.

Endo at the Rotunda £ £ £ £ Sushi in White City ££££ 101 Wood Lane 9.4 /10

If you’re after a truly special experience in the same space that you scratch your armpit and eat lasagne sandwiches in, then you’ll want to get a bento box from Endo. Ordinarily, Endo at the Rotunda isn’t just a restaurant you plan to go out to, but a restaurant you plan to go out to for a once-in-a-lifetime meal. Only now, for a cool £140 you can get a bento box meal for two that includes a homemade “ozaki” wagyu sandwich, Tokyo-style bara-chirashi with salmon, otoro, unagi, and more. Trust us when we say it will take you to another place.

Optional extras: Japanese flip flops, sake, Kleenex for your tears of joy.

Giulia Verdinelli Circolo Popolare £ £ £ £ Italian in Fitzrovia ££££ 40 - 41 Rathbone Place 8.1 /10

The success rate of recreating Fitzrovia’s Circolo at home really depends on two things. How many old school portraits of Italian families you own, and how willing your flatmate / partner / houseplant is to pretend to be a charismatic, slightly flirty Italian waiter. Thanks to Circolo’s delivery and collection service you can now eat their signature cheese-fest carbonara and XXL desserts at home, without having to worry about the absolute ’mare that was their pre-lockdown queues. Plus, the main feature of this huge, loud and proud trattoria is the thousands of bottles of Italian spirits that line the walls, and if your lockdown is going anything like ours you probably have that in your kitchen already, right? Dress up a little sexy, put your party playlist on, and definitely get involved in their Sex On The Couch and Zoom Service cocktails.

Optional extras: pecorino, fake plants, flirting with a stranger through your window.

José ££££ 104 Bermondsey St

Your plans to get out - not just the house for al fresco boozy meals, but of the country - have been well and truly scuppered. Ours too. But, get a load of tapas in from José Pizarro, sticking Roy Ayers on the speakers, and putting a few pillows on your front step will be something like getting away. Especially once you’ve got 100% iberico pork loin and glass of rosé by your side.

Optional extras: A balcony (your window), a sun terrace (your front steps), a garden (the pavement).

Giulia Verdinelli Bao £ £ £ £ Taiwanese in Soho ££££ 53 Lexington St 8.6 /10

The Bao aesthetic is all about clean lines, simple graphics, and crisp white walls. What we’re saying is, tidy up your shit. Yes, even that easel you bought on day two of lockdown and have not used since. Because transforming yourself into Bob Ross is hard, but ordering in from Bao is easy. Their delivery service - aptly called Rice Error - means you can eat their Taiwanese fried chicken and pork belly rice whilst creating that cool and casual feel with a stool and a calm indie soundtrack. Bonus points for whipping out the karaoke machine over a couple of their Umeshu negronis in place of an after-dinner trip to Bao Borough’s karaoke room.

Optional extras: Neatly organised pencils and cutlery from their online shop.

Giulia Verdinelli Lina Stores – 51 Greek Street £ £ £ £ Italian in Soho ££££ 51 Greek Street 7.4 /10

Step one: Go online and purchase ten litres of mint pastel paint. Step two: Paint your entire home in said paint. Step three: Order in Lina Stores’ £32 fresh pasta meal kit and enjoy. Okay, maybe that’s a bit extreme. But this pastel palace of pasta - try saying that three times in a row - are delivering everything from antipasti to pizza meal kits. The aesthetic is Italian wet dream meets Baz-Luhrman-on-steroids, so exile all dark furniture and news-alert gloom into the hallway, crack out the campari, and fuck it, bask in the glory of not having to cook any mince to make your spag bol. Heads up, they’re delivering nationwide.

Optional extras: candy stripe napkins, limoncello, a serious order of cannoli.

via The Infatuation Feed https://www.theinfatuation.com/london/guides/londons-best-delivery-for-a-big-night-in Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://trello.com/userhuongsen

Created May 22, 2020 at 10:42PM /huong sen View Google Doc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xa6sRugRZk4MDSyctcqusGYBv1lXYkrF

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