#I walk like 1 mile to get to the grocery store every week and it takes me about half an hour

[incyrayinc]

Doodle of a silly scene I had in my head while reading Incompatible Drivers. Vanitas doesn't ACTUALLY wear a blue sea salt on his head in the fic, but I couldn't help but think it'd be an effective way for him to keep cool whilst forced to run around in the desert on foot (he gets banned from using dark corridors to travel). Poor boy is out there taking heat damage, otherwise!

I will probably be making more doodles for this fic! It has a lot of funny moments that'd be fun to draw (and also some Deeply Horrifying Moments, too)

[gu6chan]

Your post about The Most American Sandwhich just made me imagine Leonard as an American... Leonard scuttling about at a Walmart parking lot, trying to fit all the food he bought in the trunk (enough to hermit away for the next few weeks begote he has to restock again)

this is a bit late but this has me WAILING........ american leonard, what groceries will he buy........ do you think he would treat him also to The Most American Sandwich

now introducing: the U.P's youngest resident

also during the process of scribbling in his hoodie i looked at it and almost started crying

[spyder-junkie]

EARTH-42 MILES MORALES X READER part 4

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

drop idea for the next part because Im running outta steam lol

It isnt long before you and Miles are hanging out every other day.

You would see him after school when you could, or he would sneak into your room at night.

And this goes on for weeks.

That is until you’re talking to Miles one night outside his flat.

You wish him goodbye, kissing his cheek and being on your way. He goes inside, and as you’re about half way down the block, you get a text.

‘my momma saw you kiss me through the window, she wants to meet you.’

You literally stand still on the sidewalk for a moment, heart beating in your chest.

So the two of you try to schedule a day where you can sit down and meet Rio.

You pitch the following day, but she has to work late at the hospital.

Miles pitches friday, but you have an afterschool study session

So you pick that sunday, which works until Miles calls you and tells you Rio was scheduled a later shift and wouldnt be able to cook that day.

“How about we cook instead? To give her a break.” You say.

Miles’ face scrunches up in the facetime.

“I cant cook.” He says plainly.

“But I can, it could be a surprise.” You say.

So thats what you do. Miles tells Rio and Aaron they’ll order food that afternoon, and you and Miles go to the store to get groceries in the morning.

Miles sat at the island of the kitchen, his head in his hand as he watched you cook.

He was playing music for you, a couple modern hispanic pop songs.

“Shes really gonna like this.” Miles said, small smike on his face.

“I hope so.” You reply, mixing something in a pot.

You put your spoon down, letting the food cook while you turn to Miles.

You reach your hand out, prompting him to stand infront of you.

You smile up at him, swaying your hips softly in tune of the music.

He follows your lead, a little smoother than you expected.

He hums along softly to the song, spinning your around the kitchen.

“Youre light on your feet.” You say, letting him twirl you.

The two of you dance and laugh until the kitchen timer dings, in which you break away to check the food.

And unbeknownst to you, Rio stands at the front door, Aaron at her side as she peers through the opened crack.

“Theyre gonna realize youre watching em.” He says, a smirk plasterd on his face.

“I havent seen my baby dance since he was a baby.” Rio whispers.

She waits until the two of you begin plating the food to smooth her scrubs out and open the door.

“Estoy en casa.” She said softly, catching Miles’s eyes.

“Whats all this?” She had a sort of unreadable expression on her face.

“Miles told me you wouldnt have time to cook, so I thought why not cook for you?” You say timidly.

You take you oven mits off and walk up to Rio.

“Soy s/n, gusto en conocerla Sra. Morales” You smile, holding your hand out to her.

Her expression cracks, a smile gracing her lips.

“Encantada de conocerte, nice spanish you have there.”

You then hold your hand out to Aaron.

“Nice to meet you too Mr.Aaron.”

Aaron is a bit more curt with his handshake, his face still stoic. He hums out a little “mhm” as he shakes your hand.

“Shes pretty, Miles.” Rio gushes, then she turns to you. “Youre really pretty.”

miles shrugs with a cocky grin on his face, leaning against the kitchen island.

You smile and thank her, walking back to the stove.

“Miles mentioned how much you like puerto rican dishes, so i made mofongo and Arroz con gandules.”

Rio looks over the food, taking a moment to smell over the aromas.

“Your abuela used to make this when you were little, Miles.” She says fondly, then she shakes her head.

“This looks great, lets eat. Miles help me set the table.”

So while you plate the food, Rio and Miles set the table. The four of you sat down to eat not before long, You and Miles on one side of the table, Rio and Aaron on the other.

“You did real good here, ma.” Miles says, mouth half full.

“He’s right, you know your way around a kitchen. Isnt that right Aaron?” Rio elbows him.

Aaron humms a ‘mhm’ eating well nonetheless.

“You know Unc,” Miles begins, putting a spoonful of rice in his mouth.

“Y/n might be able to fix your truck.”

Aaron raises his eyebrow at you, your eyes widening.

“Oh- I, uh, my dad works with cars, Miles told me you were having some issues, maybe i could take a look at it.” You say softly, tensing under his gaze.

“Its an engine problem. I doubt you can fix it.” He says.

Before you can say anything, Miles and Rio protest at the same time.

“Cmon man.”

“Give her a chance.”

Aaron rolls his eyes.

“….you can come look at it after dinner.” He says, getting back to his meal.

When everyone finishes their meal and the conversation dies down, Aaron gets up from the table.

“Lets go.” He huffs.

You and Miles stand up and follow him to the door just before he puts his hand to Miles’ chest.

“Help your moma with the dishes.”

“Man what I-“ Miles’ face scrunches up in irritation as Aaron gives him a pointed look.

“We’ll be back.” He says, motioning you to follow him.

And you do, you follow him down to the parking deck. He leads you to a mini garage labeled with a different apartment number than the one Miles stays in, probably for a different building.

Silently he pops the hood of the car for you, propping open his took box and motioning towards the car. He then crosses his arms and leans against the wall.

You gulp.

Quietly you scan your eyes over the mechanics inside the hood, looking to see what could be wrong with the engine.

“The start up is weak.” Aaron says suddenly.

“Took her to the mechanics and they quoted me 7 hundred to fix it.”

“Oh, why didnt they just give it a flush?” You ask, turning to him.

He raises an eyebrow.

You look around the garage for a mechanic creep, stretching it out and rolling your way under the hood of the car. Taking a wrench, you dislodge a couple bolts, pulling a pannel open.

“Do you have a watter bottle?” You ask, reaching your grease soaked hand our from under the car.

Theres shuffling, then a new watter bottle is placed in your hand.

You flush out part of the engine, using a given rag to dry it out and placing the pannel back on. Then you roll out from under the car, wiping your forehead.

“Try starting her up.” You say.

Aaron gets in the car, putting the key in and starting it up. And it starts up smooth.

A suprised expression crosses his face, followed by a smile.

“Id do that every 2-3 months, if you do it too much those parts will rust.” You say, coming up besides him while wiping your hands with a rag.

Aaron claps your back suddenly, beaming down at you.

“Thanks babygirl, I might have to get you in here on off days, get a set of extra hands on the projects we’re working on.”

You wonder if he’s talking about prowler things.

You dont ask though, giving a small ���you’re welcome’ and walking after him as he closes the garage.

The walk back is quiet for a while, then Aaron speaks.

“My nephew has a lot going on in his life.” He says.

“If you can keep him focused on what’s important, Ion’ mind you staying around.”

You look over at him, then nod your head.

When the two of you return to the apartment, you’re laughing at the embarrassing Miles stories Aaron is telling you.

“Well, how’d it go?” Rio asks, a little surprised at Aaron’s joyfulness.

“She saved me 7 hundred, so pretty well.” He smiles.

“See i knew you could handle it.” Miles nudges your shoulder and kisses your cheek.

“Y/n.” Rio calls you name. Her and Aaron look at each other, then at you.

“¿Puedo hablar contigo un momento?”

You look at her and nod, noticing Aaron usher miles into another room.

“Yes ma’am?” You say, sitting at the dining table across from her.

“You know I love my son.” She begins. The air is a little tense now.

“I love him more than anything else, more than he’ll ever know. And he has lost a lot. I dont want to see him hurt again.” She looks at you seriously.

“I dont want to see him hurt ever.” You reply.

“Lets make a deal, then.” Rio says.

“You take care of him, make sure he knows hes loved, and be there for him in the places I cant, and no matter what youll always be welcome here in my home.”

You smile, shaking her out stretched hand.

“Deal.”

The rest of the evening you spend having hearty conversations with Rio and Aaron in the living room.

Miles has you pressed to his side, his hand on your knee.

Sometime into the night you notice him drifting off beside you, his head drooping onto your shoulder peacefully.

And after a while its time for you to go home.

“Walk her home boy.” Aaron quipped, smacking Miles on the back of his neck and startling him awake.

Miles glares at his uncle, getting up to grab his shoes and meet you by the door.

And he walks you home, hand in yours and shoulders relaxed. And once you’re home, you kiss him on the cheek and wish him goodnight.

Then maybe an hour later, after youve showered and gotten into your pajamas, you get a text.

“You did good today, Hermosa, Im proud of you. Also, my mom really likes you, she said come back soon”

tags: @tishsrealwife @call-me-nev @hana-1235 @youcantseem3 @kaealowri @unadulteratedwizardrunaway @kezibear @urmotherswhor3 @ladylovegood-69 @thetoetickler @cumbermovels @cozmicwonder @yams-ley @sh-tposter2021 @vampjacinda @roadkillmeal @animechick555 @the-smut-plug @iluvdi0r @stevenknightmarc @yoashh @kitsunna @caffeine-mess @arachnenotes @erensbbg @nightshxdex @el-chiste @3alvatore @sh-tposter2021 @miatjie @agstuffsworld @ella34435 @iluvdi0r @pulling-out-my-eyes @vakiui @bigpepperpicker @swaggybae @tsukisaiki @osebb

[candycandy00]

Finding Love in a Zombie Apocalypse - A JJK Interactive Romance Fanfic Round 1

Read the details about this event here!

During a zombie apocalypse, you meet a group of seven handsome men. Which one will you choose to be your survival/romantic partner?

Vote for the man you want to be eliminated! The man with the most votes will not be killed off in the story, but he will be removed from all future polls and his branching story will be closed off!

Reminder: Vote for the man you DO NOT want to survive with! You are voting someone OUT!

For the first two rounds, I’m not naming the men. You can probably figure out who is who, but that’s part of the fun! I’m doing it this way to encourage readers to vote based on the scenario rather than just automatically voting out their least fave character.

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

The dead walk! The world has been plunged into a zombie apocalypse, and you’re barely able to flee your home in the city before the place gets completely overrun. You try to survive alone for a couple of weeks, but you realize you can’t make it on your own. You need to find a group, or at least a partner to help you keep watch at night. Because as the panic and chaos set in, humans become as dangerous as the living dead. 

With this in mind, you wander into a tiny abandoned town twenty miles outside the city. You’re hoping to find some supplies to last you until you can find help, so you cautiously walk down the street, a crowbar gripped tightly in your hand. 

You hear them before you see them. A cacophony of groans and growls coming from a nearby alley. You freeze, trying to decide whether to run back the way you came or try to hide in a building. When the first few zombies shamble out of the alley, you no longer have a choice. They’ve seen you, and they’ll pursue you relentlessly. You run to the nearest shop, a boutique with expensive looking dresses on mannequins in the window, and try the door. Locked!

You run to the next building, which seems to be a small post office, but it’s locked too! Panicking, you begin trying every door you come across, but all of them are either locked, or completely shattered to the point that entering would offer no protection at all. 

“Hey! This way!” you hear a voice shout. 

You look up to see a grocery store at the end of the street. You can see a man’s silhouette against the warm light of the store. He’s waving you over, so you make a mad dash for him, the herd of zombies hot on your trail. 

When you’re just a few feet from the door, from safety, you feel a dead, clammy hand on your arm, pulling you back. You scream, trying to jerk free, but a second hand grips your other arm. 

You’re close enough to see the man, see his worried expression. He starts toward you to help, but another, bigger man suddenly runs out of the store. With nothing but his bare hands, he rips the zombies away from you, allowing you to sprint into the store. The two men come in after you and pull the door to the grocery store shut, locking it up tight. 

Once inside, you scan the store. There are five more men here, all incredibly attractive. What did you just wander into?

The men explain that they’re traveling together and decided to stop at this store for a while to rest and stock up on supplies. One of them has worked here before and has a key to the stock room. Some of them seem to know each other better than others, but they all get along well enough from what you can tell. 

They invite you to stay, and you agree, so you go around the store to properly meet each of them.

Man #1: 

The first man you approach is the one who had called out to you and waved you over. He’s sitting on a turned over crate, and beside him is a box holding useful items like flashlights and batteries. He looks up at you when you get close enough. 

“I just wanted to thank you for helping me,” you tell him. 

He gives you a somewhat awkward smile. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough to help you when you were grabbed.”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it. You were going to help. That’s enough for me. So how long do you guys plan to stay here?”

He glances toward the others. “Hopefully not long. I need to get to the next town quickly. Someone is waiting for me.”

You’re tempted to ask about that, but you don’t want to pry. Still, you can’t help wondering who is waiting for him. Family? A lover? 

“I hope you find them,” you say, and he smiles again. This time it’s a more natural, comfortable smile, and it somehow puts you at ease. 

“If you need anything, feel free to take it. There’s plenty of supplies here.”

You return his genuine smile. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

He gives a friendly wave as you walk away. Before you get too far, he adds, “Let me know if you need help with anything!”

Man #2: 

The next man you approach is the one who ran out and tore the zombies off you. He’s lounging in a plastic pool chair, and you have no idea how it hasn’t already collapsed beneath him. He’s tall, and clearly strong. To be honest, he’s a little intimidating, but you gather your courage and walk over to him. 

“Thank you for helping me,” you say. 

He glances up at you, a small grin on his face. “Don’t worry about it. I was getting bored in here anyway.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. You look down and see a crate full of food on the floor beside him. They’re all non-perishables, smart choices to take. 

“How long have you guys been here?” you ask, trying to make conversation. 

He leans back in the chair, his arms behind his head. “Since yesterday. We’ve been here too long if you ask me.”

“In a hurry to get somewhere?” 

He shrugs. “I just don’t like staying in one place for too long.”

“Aren’t you scared to go back out there? The zombies seem to be growing in numbers,” you say. It’s true that you’ve been seeing more and more lately. 

The man laughs. “I’m not worried about zombies. They go down too easily.”

You give a nervous laugh. He certainly seems capable of fighting off zombies, and his confidence is reassuring. But there’s a certain excitement in his eyes that makes you anxious. So you smile and nod then move on to the next man.

Man #3: 

The third man you approach is speaking to a couple of the others, so you wait patiently for them to finish. The other two walk away to continue whatever they were doing, and you take this chance to say hello. 

His smile is quite charming as he turns to face you. “Hello there. Are you alright? That must have been frightening.”

For a moment, you don’t know what he’s talking about. He’s so good looking that your mind nearly went blank. Then you remember that you were attacked by zombies just a few minutes ago. “Oh, yeah, that was pretty scary. I’ve been in similar situations before though.”

“Really? Well I’m glad you’re safe now,” he says. 

“Thanks,” you tell him. “You guys were lucky to find this place. It’s still well stocked.”

He nods. “As soon as I heard about it, I knew we needed to come here to gather supplies. We’ll have more options later if we have plenty of necessities.”

He seems like a man who likes to plan things out in advance. Definitely a good thing in a world that’s turned to chaos. “Smart move,” you say. 

He smiles again, and for the first time you notice that his smile doesn’t feel totally genuine. “Smart moves are the only way to survive now.”

“You’re right about that,” you say as you wave politely and walk away.

Man #4: 

The next man you decide to speak to is currently standing near the front door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. 

“Are you on watch duty?” you ask him as you step closer to him. 

He looks down at you, because he’s unusually tall. “Yeah. Someone’s gotta do it. Been my turn for the past hour.”

It doesn’t escape your notice that if he’s been on watch for an hour, he probably saw you running toward the store, being chased by zombies. If that’s the case, why wasn’t he the one who called out to you? 

Deciding not to mention that, you decide to try being friendly. “I wouldn’t want to be the zombie trying break into this place, with you standing guard.”

He gives you a hint of a grin, then asks, “Did you come from the city?”

“Yeah,” you say with a nod. 

He hesitates, as if deciding whether to ask his next question or not. Then, in a more quiet voice, asks, “How bad was it?”

Something about his tone feels… sad? You decide to be honest, but gentle. “My little part of the city was overrun. But a lot of people made it out. And there were a lot of places digging in and setting up fortified shelters.”

“I see,” he says, glancing out the glass door. “Guess I’ll check those when I get there.”

“You’re going to the city?” 

“Yep. There’s something I gotta do there.”

You give him what you hope is an encouraging smile. “I hope it works out for you.”

He looks at you again. “Thanks.”

Man #5: 

You find the next man in the hardware aisle. There’s not much left, but he’s got an armload of gray duck tape. 

“Hi there,” you say, smiling when he looks up at you.

He doesn’t return the smile, but he nods to you in acknowledgement. 

You eye the tape. “Something broken?”

“The tape makes for great armor,” he says. “Wrap it around your arms and ankles, zombie teeth have a hard time penetrating it.”

“That’s a good idea,” you tell him, genuinely impressed. Why haven’t you thought of something like that before? 

He hands you a couple of his rolls. “Wrap up before we leave. It might save your life.”

You take them gratefully, deciding he’s a pretty nice guy despite your initial impression. “Thanks. I really appreciate you guys letting me in.”

He finally shows you a subtle smile. “It wouldn’t be right to just leave you out there. If someone has the means to help another person, they should do it.”

“I agree,” you say. “I’m glad there are still other people who feel that way.”

He looks down. “We’re probably in the minority though.”

“I hope not,” you reply, then wave to him as you walk away.

Man #6:

The next man nearly bumps into you as he walks out of the stock room. There’s a shopping basket full of food on his arm. “Oh, sorry,” he says, stopping and looking down at you. 

You dismiss his apology with a smile and a wave of your hand. “Is it alright if I go in?” you ask him. You’ve already been told by someone else to take whatever you want, but you feel the need to ask again now that you’re face to face with someone else as you walk in. 

He smiles in a friendly, easy going way. “Sure. It’s not like we own the store, so take whatever you like!”

“Thanks.”

“Need any help?” he asks, stepping aside to give you room. “Some of the best stuff is on the top shelves.”

You notice that he’s already got quite the load. “That’s okay. I’m sure I can manage. Thanks for offering.”

He smiles again. Somehow it seems to brighten the whole store. “You don’t have to be so polite. We’re just a bunch of random guys.”

“How did you guys meet?” you ask. You’ve been curious about their relationships since you first got here. 

“Some of us have known each other for a long time, but most of us met up at a shelter about thirty miles back.”

You think for a moment about his answer, then ask, “Why leave the shelter?” You had been to one yourself, but you were alone and you got a bad vibe from the men running it so you left after two days. 

His smile falters. “Someone was hiding a bite. They turned, attacked more people who turned and attacked more. The whole place broke down in less than an hour.”

That sounded horrifying. “I’m sorry,” you say, not sure how else to respond to that. 

“Don’t be,” he says, smile back on his face. “We got out, so I’m guessing other people did too. Just have to hold onto hope, you know?”

You return his infectious smile. “Yeah, I know,” you tell him before walking into the stock room.

Man #7:

You find the last man in the stock room, standing in the middle of it, looking over the shelves. There’s a clipboard in his hand with papers attached to it. When he notices you entering the room, he turns to face you. 

“Oh, hello. Do you need help with anything?”

“No, I’m just looking around,” you say. Then your eyes drop to the clipboard. “Taking stock of what’s left?”

“I found this inventory list in here when we first arrived. I was looking it over to make sure we didn’t miss anything useful,” he tells you. 

“Find anything?”

He points to a large, open cardboard box on a shelf. “I didn’t realize a small grocery store would have so many first aid products, so that was a nice surprise.”

“I bet,” you say, scanning the shelves. 

He holds the clipboard out to you. “Would you like to take a look?”

You take it from him. “Thanks,” you say, your eyes moving over the list. As you read over it, you make conversation. “Any idea where you guys are heading?”

“From what I understand, we’re going somewhere more rural, less populated. The plan is to look for somewhere to set up a permanent base.”

You look up. The word “permanent” caught your attention. It’s a word that feels nebulous and unattainable right now. “That sounds nice,” you say. 

He gives you a warm look. “You’re welcome to come with us for as long as you like.”

Something about him makes you feel secure. Maybe it’s because he seems so calm and composed. “I think I’ll tag along for a while,” you tell him. 

He nods. “I look forward to getting to know you.”

Tag List:

@tadabzzzbee

[theamberwriter]

The Perfect Blend

Modern!Alpha!Levi Ackerman x Omega!GN!Reader || Tea Shop AU

Word count: 6.3k

So this is the first fic I’ve written in a while, and I cannot remember the last time I actually watched AoT. But my thirst for Levi can never be tamed. I hope this does him some justice. Also, I’m on my iPad. So the formatting may be a little weird.

Companion Art: [1] [2]

☕️📚

The Stem and Spine was the shiney new bookstore/tea shop opening on the corner on Prescott and Main. It seemed like ages since anyone had tried opening a store there. It was such a quaint spot. The historical building had detailed moldings, uneven red bricks, and chipped, dark blue paint. Six large, angled windows gave a panoramic view out to the bustling streets in your little college town.

It was the perfect spot to stop, drink tea, and people watch.

You were looking forward to opening day. You’d spent months crawling through every bookshop, online and in person, as well as every thrift shop trying to find one specific book. No one seemed to know of it’s existence. So you were silently begging the universe to cut you a break and let this new bookshop carry what you were looking for.

You’d only recently discovered their grand opening. An awkward omega gave you a flier. They were handing them out as people were leaving the grocery store. You were really excited, but maybe that was your inner bookworm talking.

Since the shop was right down the road, you decided to walk there on opening morning. You weren’t really expecting any sort of crowd. All of the college kids had gone home for the summer, so the streets had emptied out some. You enjoyed how quiet the summers were. So the long, winding line leading from the door of Stem and Spine was definitely a surprise.

You didn’t need to look for the book that badly. You could come in a month or so when things had died down some. You were going to head back home when you heard the people by you talking:

“I heard the guy running this place is hot as fuck,” said one.

“Did you hear what that girl in our study group said?” asked the other. The first shook their head. “Apparently his scent is like, super strong.”

The friend grinned, running their tongue over their teeth. “I can‘t wait to find out.”

Oh no, you mentally groaned then took a nice deep breath. The scents came one right after the other. A mangled mash up of pheromones. This line was almost entirely betas and omegas. And they were here for that alpha. You were never going to be able to shop there at this rate! As an omega yourself, you just knew they all would come from miles around until this guy was claimed.

You decided it was better to queue up, then maybe you’d actually get a chance to set foot inside. You waited for hours. You were sure those ahead of you would linger as long as possible and try to make an impression. That meant everyone had to stand in line longer.

By the time employees came down the line and told people they were closing for the night, your feet were killing you and your phone battery was nearly dead. All day and you’d only gotten a quarter of the way to the door! You could still see the spot you’d started from. A few people tried to get rowdy, complaining it was unfair that they’d been waiting all day. But their steam fizzled when employees threatened to call the police.

For two weeks, you checked the line for Stem and Spine. Day after day the line seemed to get longer. You saw a lot of returning faces, they must’ve been desperate. You even saw a handful of people getting escorted out by police! You also heard more and more rumors about what everyone was lining up for.

I heard he’s one of those hot, stoic types. I’d love to break him.

I heard that if you’re a beta or omega, just the guy’s scent is enough to make you jizz in your pants.

I heard he doesn’t like needy omegas, good thing I’m not like the others.

I heard he’s starting an entire harem - I’d love to be a part of that!

This is my eighth time going. I swear, I’m on the verge of making him my mate!

The rumors went on and on, getting more and more absurd. You wondered what this guy was really like, if he was really worth all of this. You weren’t interested, you just wanted a book! If anything, this was annoying. You figured it was probably annoying for him too, especially if he just wanted to do his job and not have to worry about anyone throwing themselves at him.

Finally, on a Sunday afternoon, you were able to set foot in Stem and Spine. It was quiet. No three block long line in sight. Sure, it was still busy but these people actually wanted books. They were all glued to the shelves, actually talking about books, and showing each other covers.

Inside was better than you’d imagined it. Everything was cream, gold, crimson, and navy blue. In one half was the tea shop. There were shelves of tea and accessories that lined the walls; loose leaf, prepackaged, diffusers, tea pots, honey sticks, spoon rests. As well as a long barista counter that had a large chalkboard and sizable drink list that was nothing but tea. There were a small handful of metal tables and chairs, and you remembered seeing some outside with umbrellas as well.

The other half of the store was the bookshop. There was row after row of books. Mostly fiction from your first glance. There were also displays for local authors and a shelf of new arrivals. You couldn’t wait to spend the day combing through. The entire vibe was cozy and the scent of jasmine wafting around was relaxing. You did wonder, however, how you were able to get in. Had the alpha been claimed? You didn’t smell anything overwhelming.

“Aaawwww, what do you mean he’s not here?!” You heard a girl whine. You were just starting on the second row of books.

“Mr. Ackerman isn’t here,” said the employee, irritation clear in their voice. “And no, I don’t know if he’ll be back today.”

The girl groaned loudly, but you didn’t hear her complain anymore. You figured she must’ve left. You wondered if she was the one who’d managed multiple visits.

“This has really gotten out of hand,” you heard the employee down the aisle say. They’d been stocking more books. “Great for sales, though.”

“That bad?” you asked. The employee looked at you, she looked tired. Her name tag read Mikasa.

“You have no idea,” she sighed. “I like working here. Levi is my cousin and a great boss, but these fangirls have just been too much. You’d think the fact that he ignores them would be a turn off. But they just keep coming.”

You didn’t realize you’d spent your whole afternoon in Stem and Spine until Mikasa came around to give you a five minute heads up. You were disappointed you didn’t find what you were looking for. But you still managed to find a couple hidden gems you were excited about. Maybe what you wanted was just too obscure.

You brought your books to the counter. As they rang you up, you noticed a clip board with a paper that read What Books Would You Like to See at Stem and Spine? Under that was a long list of handwritten titles and author names. You quickly scribbled down the book you were looking for. At least now there was a chance for it to appear.

Over the next month, you managed two visits to Stem and Spine every week. You and the employees actually started to recognize each other. You also started to see titles you recognized from the list. The mysterious Mr. Ackerman, however, still managed to escape your sight. Every time you went, there was a small posse outside just trying to grab a whiff.

It wasn’t until your first visit of the following month that you finally laid eyes on him. You’d just finished a series and were looking to start a new one. So you wandered over to the new arrivals section. You’d been there about half an hour when a heavy wave of lavender hit you. It filled your head, murking up your thoughts. You figured this had to be him, and the rumors were true - his scent was another beast entirely.

You shook your head to focus your thoughts. You liked this store, so this was something you were going to have to get used to if you wanted to keep shopping there. But you were also extremely concerned - if he was here, then that long line and hoard of omegas and betas would be too. You wanted to leave, but you were stuck between two books with money only for one.

You probably should’ve noticed the scent getting stronger. But you were so focused on reviewing the synopsis on both and thumbing through that you were oblivious. You didn’t wake from your stupor until there was a flutter of movement beside you. You glanced to your left to see a dark haired man in a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He set down the few boxes he was carrying.

This man, you realized, was where the lavender wall had come from. This was the infamous Levi Ackerman, owner of Stem and Spine. Mikasa had told you a bit about him in previous weeks. You liked talking to her whenever you came in.

“It’s rude to stare,” he said in a surprising tenor. His back was still to you. You cursed under your breath and turned back to the shelf. That was one way to embarrass yourself. You began musing between the books in your hands again.

After a long moment of silence, a voice said, “I’d pick the one in your right hand.”

You looked over to meet a bored pair of silver eyes. “What?”

“I’ve read them both. The book in your right hand was far more interesting.”

“Oh cool,” you said slowly. “Thanks. I would’ve been here for ages.”

You quickly placed the other one back in its place and scuttled away. You were just going to have to take his word for it. You didn’t want to hover anymore than you had. At the front, they packaged up your book and you were swiftly out the door.

Levi had been right, the book was very good and you were excited that there were four more books to follow with a movie planned. The next time you tried to go to Stem and Spine it was packed again. There was a line down the block and you just didn’t have the time to wait. Your shift at work started soon, and all you’d wanted to do was thank him for the recommendation.

You decided to head straight to work instead. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long to see the bookstore owner again. The wall of lavender hit you before you saw him. You watched everyone around you turn to stare. It didn’t seem to phase him in the least.

Levi came to the counter and briefly talked with your coworker, who couldn’t seem to keep a straight face. When they disappeared to look for someone, Levi waited at the counter. This was probably going to be weird, but you really did want to thank him for helping you find a new series you absolutely loved.

“Hey,” you started, the book in your hand. He glanced at you briefly. “I, uh. You probably don’t remember me, but you recommended this book to me last week. And I, uh, I just wanted to say thank you. It was really good.”

“I told you it was better,” he stated. “I remember the other one you had - the author writes shit. It doesn’t have any good character development and there were a few glaring plot holes.”

“Oh, that’s good to know - I’ll definitely take that off my reading list.” You laughed awkwardly, carefully tucking the book away in your bag. “I was, uh, I was going to stop by the shop earlier. See if you were there - so I could thank you. But that line was just - woo!”

“I’m going to have to do something about that.” You weren’t sure if that was directed at you, but Levi seemed lost in thought.

Your coworker soon came back with someone in tow. They talked for a minute and then Levi and his intoxicating scent were gone. Afterwards, your coworker could not shut up about him. There was no way you were going to tell them about the bookshop.

In the days that followed, the line to get into the shop shrunk. But there was a continuous crowd that flurried around. A few employees you recognized seemed to be doing crowd control.

“I don’t care that you want to see him,” said one. “You don’t actually want a book or tea! It’s clogging up the shop.”

So Levi was doing something about the outrageous line. You were looking forward to being able to shop there again. The employees inside seemed less stressed when you went in and, at least, you weren’t brushing shoulders with anyone.

“Hey, [Name]!” Mikasa called as she spied you. She waved from her spot at the book counter where she was talking with Levi. You waved back at her, accidentally met Levi’s eyes, and then shuffled off into the book aisle to grab the next installment of the series.

You paid for your book, then went over to the tea shop. You didn’t know much about tea, but you figured you might as well start trying the different blends. There was a small display set up that recommended different teas for certain books. Like a nice citrusy Lady Grey to go with Pride and Prejudice.

“I don’t think that tea pairs with your book.”

You knew that voice. You turned to find Levi there with you, hovering, observing as you skimmed through the tea bags. You looked down at the pouch of English Breakfast Tea in your hand.

“You don’t think so?”

“You’ll want a black currant tea.” Levi reached just above your head and pulled down a paper bag with a raven on it. “I’m partial to this one.”

You took the bag, turning it over in your hand. You put the original pouch you grabbed back. Awkwardly, you smiled at him. “Uh, thanks. Guess I’ll go pay for this then.”

You weren’t sure what to make of it, it was probably nothing. But this encounter left you with a strange feeling. There were a few more like that to follow too.

“You’ll want a different tea for that,” he said as you picked up the third book.

“I can’t just make the black currant one?” you asked, baffled.

“Each book has a flavor that it pairs with. This one is more of a mint. If you pick wrong, you'll ruin the whole damn experience.” Levi turned the full power of his eyes on you. You were frozen under them. “Just like each person has their scent. Each scent has something that pairs nicely with it. For example, mine is lavender, yours is more of a sage. The two go well together.”

“Oh,” was all you could manage. That was the first time you felt the little flutter in your chest.

Every time you went to Stem and Spine to purchase a book Levi was there over your shoulder. He’d direct you to whichever tea he felt best went with it. He even started talking about the nuances in the flavors. How the aromatics helped, which shape of tea bag was optimal, ideally how long to steep it for. You became very knowledgeable about tea in the following visits. You were sure you'd be an expert by the time you went to pick up the last book in the series he showed you. But nowhere near as knowledgeable as Levi.

The next time you went, you saw Mikasa at the counter speaking with Levi.

"You can have the days off. Just fill out the request form," Levi said as you walked up to them.

"You're going on vacation soon, Mikasa?" you asked.

She turned her eyes to you. "My mate is going into his rut soon. I always make sure to take those days off to help him with his nest or anything else he needs."

You smiled at her. "That's really thoughtful, Mikasa. I hope, if I find someone, that they're like you."

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't have a mate?"

"No." You shook your head and shrugged.

You could've sworn you caught Mikasa giving Levi a nudge and a sharp look. Levi gave her a brief glare back. Then his eyes turned to you, his gaze relaxed.

"Why?" he asked.

You laughed humorlessly. "No one's ever really stuck around or I broke up with them. One guy tried to get me to sell my book collection. He said that they were just a waste of time and money. So I decided that he was a waste of my time. There's nothing worse than someone who doesn't understand your hobbies."

Levi said nothing but hummed in response.

"Do you have a mate out there in this big wide world, Levi?" you asked.

"No," he spat curtly.

You didn't mean to gape, but you couldn't deny you were shocked. "Really?"

"What?"

"I'm just surprised, ya know? With your strong scent and how handsome you are... I just figured by now someone would have come along. That's all."

Levi looked away from you. "My scent is more trouble than it's worth. All it does is draw shitty little brats."

You chuckled. "I can see that, considering the long line the first month you guys were open. I also noticed the growing wall of banned people. – Well I just came in to grab something really fast before work. My shift starts soon."

The college students were starting back up for the autumn semester. The streets began to fill up with cars of fresh faces, new dreams, and overstuffed suitcases. You had a feeling there'd be a new influx of people at Stem and Spine.

The hunch was correct.

Before you knew it, the store was once again filled wall to wall with people seeking Levi's attention. He seemed increasingly agitated every time you saw him. Then he once again disappeared for a few weeks, causing the crowds to thin.

“I heard the author is writing the final installment,” Mikasa said as she rang you up. “It’s supposed to be out in a few months.”

“Really? I thought this was the last book?” You raised an eyebrow. You weren’t upset, just surprised. The story felt like it could easily be wrapped up in one book. You hoped it wasn’t going to be one of those strangling the plot lines scenarios, where the whole series goes down in flames right at the end.

“Nope, one more.” Mikasa shook her head. “I’m sure Levi will be upset.”

“Does he really like this series?”

“No.”

You met her with a curious gaze. Her eyes gave you nothing in return. You’d never really noticed how similar she and Levi looked until then. Both with silky black hair and unwavering grey eyes.

"I don't smell him around today. I take it he's still in hiding? I guess I'm on my own to find a tea, then," you laughed.

Mikasa handed you your bag, it was brown paper with a dark red book and tea leaf stamped onto it. You had a small collection you kept folded under your sink and used for various things.

"Hey, before you go," Mikasa started. "I'd like to consider us friends."

You nodded and smiled at her. "I'd like to think so."

"So then would you like to hang out when I'm not working? I was thinking about going to see the movie for this, it comes out soon. Would you like to go? I'll buy the tickets."

"That'd be awesome! I can pay you back."

Mikasa laughed, then waved her hand dismissively. "It's no issue, don't worry about it. Give me your number, and we can pick a date."

You exchanged numbers then wandered over to the teashop. You were only a little upset to be tea shopping alone. You were so used to having company. You wondered what type of tea Levi would recommend. You had to admit, you were starting to look forward to your shopping visits more knowing he was there. You were happier to see him than Mikasa most days. You were grateful for your newly formed friendship, so it made you feel a bit guilty. But you couldn’t deny that there was something soothing about listening to Levi’s passion for tea.

You thumbed through the pages of the book. Skimming without trying to spoil anything for yourself. You were just trying to get the feel. What flavor would this book be? Something dark and fruity, like a black currant? Or something a little lighter, more classic like the mint? You settled on an orange bergamot, this would have to work. You paid and then walked over to your job.

About half way through your shift, a familiar tsunami of lavender smacked you in the face. Levi strode casually through the lobby looking bored as ever. He had a bag in his hand. You wondered if he’d been out shopping. You met his gaze, immediately diverting your own back to your paperwork.

“Mikasa said you were in the shop today,” he said, the scent rolling off of him was strange and heavy.

You looked up, getting sucked into those silver pools. “Yeah, I came to get the next book in the series. I figured you were still keeping your distance. - Did you need my help with something? Did you need John again?”

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t pick a shitty tea.”

You scrutinized his face. It held absolutely nothing. He really came all this way to ask what tea you picked? Well, it was just the next street over. But he still had to go out of his way to see you. He didn’t have to do that. Your heart fluttered.

“I skimmed through, but I’m not sure I picked the right one.” You handed over the bag of tea you bought.

Levi rolled his eyes. “Tech, don’t spoil it for yourself, idiot.”

He took the bag, examining it thoroughly. He considered the ingredients for a long moment. You could practically see the cogs turning in his mind. Finally Levi handed it back over to you.

“Interesting choice,” he started. “But it works. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks, I really tried to put your lessons into practice,” you laughed. There was a long stretch of silence. “I suppose you’re probably going back to Stem and Spine, I won’t keep you any longer. But I appreciate you stopping by, I didn’t think you remembered that I worked here.”

Levi stood a moment longer, then placed the bag he’d been carrying on the counter. It was from his store. “I brought this in case you picked wrong. - I’d still like you to have it.”

You stood. “No, I couldn’t -”

“I insist.”

“At least let me lay you for it. Or exchange it for the one I bought!”

Levi was already walking away. “Just take the fucking thing. I picked it out for you.”

Then Levi was gone, but his lavender scent still swam in your head. You took the bag from the counter, peering in to inspect its contents. You were so curious what he picked. You pulled out a white bag of loose leaf tea with a rose stamped on it in pink. The name read The Start of Something Sweet, it was made with strawberries and rose. You couldn’t help but smile a bit to yourself.

Later that night you made yourself a cup using what you remembered of Levi’s impromptu tea lessons. You couldn’t keep the little smile off your face. Not even as you talked with Mikasa about your movie plans. You picked a date two Saturdays away. You were really excited, you could only hope that the movie did any sort of justice.

A few days later, you made another trip to Levi’s store. It was restock day. As usual, you beelined for the new arrivals section. You were disheartened to find your requested book had still not made an appearance. You groaned. Maybe they couldn’t find a distributor either. That’d be just your luck.

“Looking for anything in particular?” Mikasa asked, stopping beside you. “You look disappointed.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’ve been on the hunt for this one book and no one has it. I’ve checked everywhere! I even put it on your recommendations list when you first opened. It’s just getting annoying at this point.”

“Maybe I can track it down for you and get you a rush order?”

You smiled at her gratefully. “You’d do that for me?”

Mikasa shrugged. “It’s no problem. I don’t see why not. What’s Levi going to do? Fire me?”

“Sweet, thank you so much! I’ll text you what I’m looking for.”

“Hey, I’m actually about to go on break. Do you want to go get something to eat with me? You have off today, right?”

You agreed and hovered by the counter while Mikasa grabbed her things from the back. You chatted idly with a few of the other employees. They were complaining about how busy it’s been since school was back in session. You hadn’t been surprised, of course. They did build the town around the university after all.

Once the scent of lavender began wafting in, everyone became tense. You noticed something was off. It was sharper and so sweet it was almost bitter and very dense and heavy. Levi stalked in, looking irritated. He gave a sharp glare to his employees, but didn’t say anything. Instead marching through the door that said employees only on it.

“Something must’ve happened,” said one of the employees you were talking to. “He was in a good mood this morning.”

You wanted to go after him. In fact, your feet even began to pull in his direction on their own. But you stopped yourself, embarrassed. Tea aside - you didn’t know him all that well, after all. The last thing he’d probably wanted was a random omega tailing after him.

You had a thought, a reflection of something he told you - a book and a good cup of tea always made his mood better. He told you in passing, he probably didn’t even remember saying it. You knew you’d seen your favorite book somewhere in the store. With any luck, it was one he hadn’t read. You swept through the shelves, quickly finding it, then went to find a matching tea. You’d already had one in mind. Mikasa emerged just as the cashier was packing it all up for you. You had them wrap it in brown paper.

“Did you find something after all?” she asked.

You felt warm. Did it get hot all the sudden? You looked guiltily at the items in your hands.

“Actually,” you started awkwardly. “These are for Levi.”

“Levi?”

“Yeah, he seemed pretty mad when he came through a few minutes ago. Could you - I don’t know - could you give these to him for me?”

“I think it would be better if you gave them to him yourself, he’s still here.”

Mikasa didn’t give you much of a choice as she steered you towards the door he’d gone through. She forcefully shoved you down a small hallway and into Levi’s office. He was furious when he heard the door open. The sharp scent was even thicker in here, nearly suffocating. But you couldn’t help your overwhelming urge to calm him.

“[Name],” Levi grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. His eyes were shut tight. “I know you can fucking read, the sign says employees only.”

“They have something for you, don’t be an asshole,” snapped Mikasa.

You thought you heard Levi mutter brat under his breath. He looked up at you, eyeing the items in your hands curiously. You smiled a bit. Avoiding his gaze, you admired how neat his desk was. You were sure, if you had a ruler, that everything would be evenly spaced apart.

“You seemed upset when you came in,” you said, swallowing thickly. “I remembered what you said and thought maybe a book and some tea would help? This one’s my favorite and I picked something that I thought went with it. - I promise I paid for it.”

You placed the items on his desk and slowly backed away. You tried to slip away now that your peace offering had been given. Mikasa, however, wouldn’t let you leave. Levi picked up the book, turning it over his hands. He studied the cover and read the synopsis. Finally, after a long minute, he hummed and turned back to you.

“I haven’t read this one,” Levi said. You stifled a sigh of relief. “You make interesting choices in tea, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you said quickly and Mikasa finally let you out the door.

Mikasa didn’t bring up the incident over lunch. You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about it. Why did you do that? It was incredibly impulsive, but also inappropriate. That was basically the equivalent of screaming out how much he made your heart race and your palms sweat.

You tried not to dwell on it. But over the course of the week, you found yourself reflecting. You had hoped, more than you realized, that he would like what you brought him. You wanted his approval, not just his thanks. But you hadn’t been able to find the time to stop by the store and see if he’d read it. You’d been too busy with work, along with some plans with friends.

The next time you saw Levi was at your work again. He came bearing another bag. You were worried your coworkers would start getting the wrong idea. An alpha giving an omega gifts - how must that have looked to them? Then again, it was awfully presumptuous to think that the bag was for you.

But you were certain that Levi would never court you. Did you want him to, even? You hadn’t put much thought into the idea. But you didn’t hate the thought of getting to know him better. All you knew was what little he’d revealed in your chats while you picked out books and tea. Along with a little of what Mikasa had told you.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” you joked as Levi stepped up to the counter.

There was a certain air about him today. Maybe it was the way he’d slicked his hair back neatly. Or how starched the collar on his shirt was where it came out of his camel colored vest. He even seemed a touch more rested than usual.

Levi placed a bag on the counter. “This is for you.”

You couldn’t stop the sound of delight that came out of your mouth as you took the book out of the bag. It was finally, finally in your hands. After countless hours of fruitless searching, the damn book was finally in your hand.

“Holy shit,” you cried. “You found it! How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house this time.” Levi reached in and pulled a small brown pouch out of the bag. He smirked, which sent a chill down your spine. “Cinnamon, something spicy to go with that dirty fucking shit you’re reading.”

You froze mid celebration, oh shit. It was indeed a book with a good chunk of smut in it. Your friend had let you borrow her copy, that’s the only reason you knew about the book in the first place.

“You read it?” your voice came out hoarse.

Levi clicked his tongue. “The important parts, to figure out which blend would go along with it. It’s no wonder you couldn’t find it, no self respecting bookshop carries porn.”

“It’s not porn!”

You were not expecting him to read it. But of course he would only read the spicy scenes. No context to the story or anything else. You were devastated.

“Mhm.” It did not sound like he believed you. With that, Levi turned and began to walk away. He called over his shoulder to have a good day, followed by the pet name they used in the book.

You felt warm all over, tingles chasing from head to toe. You stared after him until he was gone. Then you sat flustered in your seat with your cheek against the cool desk. You could feel a scream burning in the back of your throat. You were so glad there was a half wall so no one could see you.

When you finally got up the nerve to crack open the book you found an envelope. Your name was written in beautiful cursive on the back. Cautiously, you cut it open. Inside was money and a little note in the same scrawl.

I won’t hold this against you. I know your entire taste in literature isn’t trash. Here’s money back for the stuff you gave me. I can see why it’s your favorite.

L. Ackerman

PS. Don’t even fucking think about trying to give the money back.

It was a short note, but it was enough to bring that flutter back. You couldn’t help reading it over and over again.

Before you knew it, movie day was finally upon you. You dressed casually and were so excited that you got to the theater an hour before it started. There was no Mikasa in sight, so you sat on a bench and read. You didn’t start to worry until there was only fifteen minutes before the movie began and she was still nowhere to be seen. Not even a text.

You: Hey, just checking if you’re close by.

Mikasa: Sorry, I’m not going to be able to make it. Enjoy the movie, you’ll have to tell me what I missed.

You groaned. You did not want to see this movie on your own. Though, you supposed it wasn’t so bad. Lots of people went by themselves. You’d just been looking forward to some bonding time with your new friend.

“So this is what that little brat was up to,” said a voice behind you. You turned to find no other than Levi. His scent was just beginning to wrap you up in a field of flowers. He had two travel cups with him, and looked as attractive as ever. No white collared shirt today. That was replaced by casual clothes and tight fitting jeans.

“Mikasa?” you asked, forcing yourself to look away.

He rolled his eyes. “I should’ve known, she didn’t even read the damn thing.”

You stood in silence for a moment. You had to wonder if this was as weird for him as it was for you. You had to admit, you did not see this coming. You could only wonder if he was disappointed to see you there.

You cleared your throat. “Look, you don’t have to watch it with me. We can sit in separate rows -“

“Don’t be stupid. Here.” Levi held out a cup to you. “You didn’t get to read the first book with anything. - Let’s go see if they fucked our shit up.”

Levi grabbed your wrist, tugging towards the direction of your theater. Your skin tingled where he touched you. You weren’t surprised by the amount of stares, but each set of eyes you passed was still unnerving. You were glad to be in your seats where it’d be harder for them.

“I heard they’re already filming the next one,” Levi stated after a few moments. He wasn’t looking at you. He concentrated almost too hard on the screen, you thought he was going to bore holes into it. “We should go see it together when it comes out. Maybe grab dinner beforehand.”

“Like…a date?” you asked. It slipped out before you could stop yourself.

“What the hell else?”

You paused for a moment, twisting to look at him. You couldn’t figure out if he was serious or not. His cheeks gained a flush of pink. You smiled at him, then settled back into your seat.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

Levi nodded, but didn’t say anything else as the lights went down. Somewhere through the night, in the tension of the dark theater, your hand ended up enveloped in his.

In the morning Stem and Spine was your first stop. You were there as soon as they opened. Mikasa was doing the opening drawer. You watched as Levi went up and slammed his hand down on the counter. She didn’t so much as flinch.

“Oi,” he said. Mikasa looked up at him. “What the hell was that stunt you pulled yesterday?”

You walked up behind him. “Yeah, you did miss one hell of a movie.”

“I don’t know why you’re both so annoyed, it seems my plan worked,” she said bored, not even bothering to look up from the cash she was counting.

“How did you know we wouldn’t just walk out of the theater and not watch the movie together?” you asked.

“You both like that series too much. Besides, Levi may know a lot about tea, but he’s also stupid. He never does anything for himself. So while he may not have realized what he was feeling, we all could see it. He just needed a little push. And so did you, [Name]. I knew you liked Levi.”

“I never actually told you that, though. I never told anyone.”

“You didn’t have to. You could smell it in the air when you were around each other. Like a call and response. You two were perfect and you couldn’t even see it. I knew from the first day you walked into the shop.”

Levi took your hand. “Don’t look so fucking smug.”

Mikasa laughed as Levi took you to his office. As soon as you stepped in Levi shut the door behind you. He gave you a swift kiss on the cheek as he went to his desk.

“She’s right you know,” he started, intentionally avoiding looking at you. “We are the perfect blend.”

You couldn’t help but wholeheartedly agree.

[isdalinarhot]

im planning to go on t soon, and i wanted to know if theres anything you would tell someone about to go on? unexpected side effects, cool things that happened, general timeframe, etc? its cool if no

-orgasms change day 1 brother. like that’s the first real change is that all of a sudden you cum different. and your sex drive goes up immediately too if you’re someone who isn’t ace in the way where you don’t have a libido either. Not a distracting amount but you sure do go man pop culture sure was right about the general horniness of teenage boys

-bottom growth won’t be noticeable until like 3-4 months in, but it’ll start hurting within like a week. Just power through it and wear your most comfy undies. Now that I’m. Jesus 7 months on T? I get less growing pains in that regard but in the beginning it’s mildly uncomfortable but also kinda cool

-if you have penetrative vaginal sex get lube asap because while you still do get somewhat wet, it won’t be nearly as much as you did pre T. Better safe than sorry.

-YOU WILL SWEAT SO MUCH. like i don’t think anyone prepared me for how sweaty i was gonna be always. A neutral thing but yeah

-the second big thing I noticed was I was better at lifting heavy objects about a month in. Like I am a wimp weakling who doesn’t work out so I don’t have dramatic increases in strength but I used to fight for my life to carry a bag of groceries and a gallon of milk in from a grocery run and now it’s no problem. It used to take me 2 arms to carry my 2 liters of vodka home from the liquor store and I’d be dying by the time I got home but now I can hoist it under one arm no problem and don’t start getting sore until I’ve been walking for like half a mile. It’s super cool!

-you will smell worse like objectively due to boysmell being stronger than girlsmell and also all the sweat so I recommend showering about twice as often as you did pre T. So like if you only needed to shower once every 2 days now do it daily, if you needed a shower once a day do it twice. Don’t wash your hair more than usual though!

-some people get hungrier on T, I personally didn’t. Keep some beef jerky (or some mixed nuts if you don’t eat meat) on hand just in case because T hunger is very much a Protien Hunger (or so I’ve heard).

-my voice started changing about 5 and a half months in, and it’s gonna be pretty easy to deal with when talking, but singing will be kind of a landmine while you try to navigate your new range. I’ll let you know when that evens out 🥲

-body hair is more of a genetic thing, and is different for everyone. My friend got the beginnings of a mustache 2 months on T, I have 0 facial hair but darker hair on my forearms and belly 7 months in. Be patient.

-like, the day before you start T it is in your vested interest to take a neutral nude both of your general body and of your junk just so that when you’re like “am I going crazy or has my fat redistributed/has my bottom growth been noticeable” you don’t have to fight for your life to dig through ancient nudes/hole pics for some measure of comparison. Speaking based on personal regret here

-you may not have the Ideal Body Type you daydreamed of having as a repressed teen at the swimming pool, because this shit is unpredictable, but you will definitely have a body that feels more like home

-your skin will get rougher and that might be sensory hell if you have sensitive skin BUT it lets you open jars and bottle caps easier. Enjoy your new superpower (guy they hand their drink to so you can open it)

-mood wise you won’t become an aggro monster, but you will have PMS style irritation easier. If you take antidepressants those work wonders on managing that, so DONT SKIP YOUR MEDS if you take them (you already shouldn’t, but now you have extra incentive!)

-be aware that if you drink (and possibly with other drugs too, but I don’t do any of those regularly), your tolerance will likely go up a little. Make informed choices on how you go forward with this — the health teacher approved choice is that you just resign yourself to being a little less drunk now, but I’d be the worlds biggest hypocrite if I recommended that with a straight face.

-you’ll cry less, but you won’t feel less sad — it’s more like not crying as much or getting ~emotional~ about stupid stuff. I still tear up during climactic emotionally moving moments during books and movies, just not when sharks are eating the POV crab in a nature documentary

-the first rule of transsexuality is be yourself and have fun — there’s no shame in realizing that it isn’t for you after giving it a shot, but if you never try you’ll live your whole life wondering. Most changes that happen within the first month or two are reversible, so you have some grace period for figuring yourself out

Very excited for you! Good luck and congrats!

[metalheadsforblacklivesmatter]

Things about America that would give Europeans a heart attack.

Many Americans are expected to drive AN HOUR to work every day. Europeans don't even visit their mom regularly if she lives 30 minutes away.

We measure distance traveled in time. Because sometimes driving 15 miles can take as long as driving 45 miles. How long you'll be in a vehicle is most important.

Zoning laws. Many of us actually do like to walk. Our major cities were designed by automotive lobbyists to force us to buy cars.

Food deserts. There's some places in America with literally zero grocery stores within 5 miles of your home.

Hospital bills. 1 emergency room visit can cost tens of thousands of dollars. Not to mention the $15,000 of you need an ambulance.

Mental health. You can be forced into grippy sock jail against your will. Then stuck with a bill that costs tens of thousands of dollars when you get out.

Speaking of medical bills. Credit reports. Remember that medical bill that costs tens of thousands of dollars? That goes on your credit report if you can't pay it. Which makes it harder to rent, buy a house, buy a car, or get a credit card.

Retirement. You can't get social security until you're 62 and social security isn't enough to live on. You're supposed to be saving money to retire on, on top of that. And based on your family's health history and cost of living. It's not unusual to need $1-2 million to retire. And it's not unusual for people to have to work into their 80s.

College. A hundred thousand dollars in student loan debt isn't unheard of and many Americans are never able to pay it off in their lifetime because interest is like 5-8%. Also. That goes on your credit report.

Minimum wage. I don't necessarily believe that Europeans would be shocked that minimum wage doesn't cover the cost of living here. But there's people that live here that are suprised to find out our minimum wage is $7.20. I've gotten into arguments over this, several times. If Americans don't believe it, how can I expect a European to?

Lack of public transit. Only like, major cities have public transit, and only a few of them have reliable public transit.

Lack of labor unions and union busting. Many European countries like France will go on nation wide strikes if an oligarch sneezes wrong. Companies in America will shut down business in entire states if the unions are getting too strong. Honestly I'm kinda surprised that we don't strike more.

Lack of paid vacation time. In a lot of countries 6 weeks is like normal. My last job I got none. And people legitimately didn't believe me when I said I had to work on Christmas or not get paid (yeah, it was a desk job). Again. If Americans can't believe it. Why would I expect Europeans to? Also I feel like Europeans would just die from the burnout because it's not uncommon for Americans to literally work themselves to death.

No. For real. I have people mad at me because I couldn't go to a family friend's wedding because they didn't believe I didn't have labor day off.

-fae

[qwanderer]

Welp! I am finally almost over my stupid weeks long cold and now the sharks are upon me yet again! Can I get a fucking break

Last month I took a solid 3 mile hike on day 1 of the cycle which seemed to help a lot over the next couple days, and I am not doing that today. But I did bestir myself to walk to the second closest grocery store, and I am glad I did.

See, every Christmas for the last few years I make my signature Christmas brunch dish, sauteed kale and onions. I forgot to buy kale one year and it has haunted me ever since, so on Thursday on my weekly trip to the closest grocery store, I made sure to buy kale.

There were only a few bags of the chopped washed stuff, so I took the one with the least visible brown bits. It wasn't until I got home that I realized there was an... odor to it.

The thing was, it just kinda smelled... kale-y. And it looked fine. So I thought it would probably be fine.

Well, but the thing about vegetables is, mostly they shouldn't really smell like much until you're cooking them. Fruit can smell like fruit, that's its job, to attract creatures that will help spread the seeds. But if a raw vegetable has a strong vegetable-y odor, it may be going off. If onions smell onion-y in the store, I try to avoid them because they might be rotting.

So I went to the second closest grocery store this morning, looking for better kale and perhaps a celery root.

They did not have a celery root, but they did have kale, both bagged and bunched. I risked the bagged again, because for one thing, the bagged kale looked less damp at this store. Also, this time I sniffed it before buying it and it didn't smell like much.

So when I got home I said to myself, I am going to open that first bag and wash it thoroughly and assess it in terms of edibility.

When I opened the bag, the smell came out much more well-developed, with a definite edge of fermentation.

No! Bad! I am not trying to make some kind of wild caught microbe based kale kimchi!

But it still looked perfectly edible.

So I washed it thoroughly, let it dry a bit, and put it in containers in the freezer to eat later myself. Thoroughly cooked.

I'll cook the new bag for Christmas brunch.

[callinglifehello]

it started here

I've never used tumblr before. This is my first time and it may be my last. Only time will tell. I don't know anything about tumblr. What it is, what you do or how it works. But i have heard about it in various forms of media.

And sometimes i need a space where i can share everything from the fucked up place i call my brain. Everytime i start to think about my life i say a tired "nope" and immediately put on a dumb youtube video to quiet my thoughts.

I'm gonna tell you a bit about myself . Not that it matters but just to give you soem context before you read my posts.

I've pulled the short stick in life because i am a teenage girl living in the middle of fucking nowhere. Being a teenage girl is shitty itself, that's just a fact. I would deem these years the worst and best ones in my life. Those two condradicting statements are what makes it really shitty.

My life is beautiful. I have a strong and healthy body and can still eat a lot of junkfood without being fat. I know that won't be the case when i'm older because of genetics.

I don't have to pay for housing, food or electricity. I don't have a house to clean, a dog to walk or any social events in need of attending. Other than school.

But when you see all of this, a carefree life full of opportunities and so much more to discover and combine this with anxiety, laziness, a phone addiction, problems with anger and several undiagnosed disorders, you know what a joke life has played on me. All the time but never the energy.

So i stay inside, hoping that someday i'll have the energy to throw away my computer and start life as a productive and strong person. Even though i know that that day will never come.

I said before that i live in the middle of nowhere. And when i say this i don't mean the classical "i'm a sad teenager living in a small town in idiana with only a mall, a cinema, a church and a waterpark *gasp!*"

I mean that my closest neighbour west lives 1 mile/1,5km away. The nearets bus stop is 2 miles/3km away, along with the nearest grocery store and theres about 50 people living in my village.

I think a lot of people either invision that i live in africa (which i don't) or that i live in the middle of the us, surrounded by desert and mountains (which i also don't).

I live north above the equator (very north) and experience four seasons and snow. I live somewhere predominantly christian and i am going to get confirmed next summer, even though i don't believe in god.

My parents used to be super strict, and still are in some ways. But in a lot of ways they're chill. They let me have sleepovers and tries to stay out of our way during them. They drive my sister to parties they know people are going to drink at because they also know my sister is a nerd and a sportsfreak that would never drink because it could interfere with her training and she's responsible.

My parents regularly try to get me out of the house, to get me to exercise or do anything healthy. But i always manage to escape their tries.

I have five close friends. One is from my old school. It had seven different grades but there were only 50-60 students because that school was also in the middle of nowhere. My friend from there, let's call her Emma, and i only became friends in 5th grade. This was strange considering that we had been in the same school since she was six and been in the same daycare attached to the school since i was two.

She's a year younger than me which means we weren't in the same class. This shouldn't have been a problem since the grades are so small the school often combine two or three into one big class. But fate would have it, it took several years before our grades got pushed together. And after a couple of weeks we got put together for a group project and i hung out at her house that day.

I graduated from that school 1,5 years ago and now we only hang out once in a while, maybe every three months. I like being with her and she likes being with me, yet i never snap her or ask to hang out. I get scared and it feels like a daunting task. And later i hate myself for not asking her because she's my best friend.

I don't think we're best friends actually. Because of two reasons. 1. Because we're no longer in the same school so now she hangs out more with her other friends 2. We've never really been "best friends". We were each others best friends for two years, but we never really had that energy that normal best friends have. We were always just each others best option.

I have three other friends from my new school. Lets call them Alice, Nellie and Mia. Almost everyone in my class didn't know anyone when they started. Only a few people recognized each other from their old schools but no one really knew anyone else. Among the girls no one knew each other. At first i hung out with two other girls, but only for a while. It felt like i was always too much with them. Everytime i got excited they would stare, comment about it and i would hate myself. So when i talked with alice a few weeks in and we connected i started hanging out with her. She, Nellie and Mia had been hanging out since the first week so we became a group.

We love having sleepovers, studying at cafés and doing secret holidays, Secret holidays are like secret santa but for different holidays. It started christmas last year and now we do secret valentine, secret halloween, secret friendsgiving and of course, secret santa. I tried suggesting a secret holiday for every month but they quickly shut that down since it would drain us of any money we ever managed to save.

This was just an introduction, but i hope i may share my shitty thoughts with you in the future.

Until then, what now?

[blue-bird17]

Forest Run - Chapter 1

Nevaeh was walking back from school when she realized that she went the wrong way, again. Damn it, I did it again, when will I finally realize that we don’t live in Whitefish, Montana anymore. Nevaeh and her mother had to move from Whitefish to Doylestown, Pennsylvania because of her mother’s job. I guess it’s nice that Mother’s boss paid for our move, but I still don’t know why we had to move in the first place. I mean, we were fine in Whitefish, and it's just a move from a small town to a small town. No. Difference. None. Not at all. Nevaeh thought as she navigated her way through the streets of this town. When she passed by an alleyway, her phone rang.

“Hello hunny, where could you be at this moment?” Mother asked politely.

Nevaeh replied with a simple response, “Oh, y’know, I got lost again. Almost home though.”

“Lost again?” Mother asked, tiredly, “We’ve lived here for almost two weeks, shouldn’t you be familiar with Doylestown about now?”

With no friends and no family, it was kind of hard for her to find her way around. “Sorry Mother, but no, I am still trying to learn the streets and stores around here.” Actually, Nevaeh hadn’t really cared about learning everything important around here. She hadn’t even tried to make friends. With so many tourists from around the United States going to see the Mercer Mile, it’s kind of hard to tell which person could be your new friend, or a new visitor—most of them are visitors. With that Nevaeh had given up on making new friends and started wishing that she’ll move back into Whitefish again with all her friends and family.

Deep in thought, Nevaeh didn’t hear her mother say for her to go around and start making friends, or for her to get a tour guide, until her mother started screaming at her over the phone. “ANSWER ME, NEVAEH, ARE YOU ALRIGHT!”

“Opps, sorry Mother, I just got lost in thought again. Now what was it that you were saying, heh.”

“Oh. My. Gods. You are making me get this gray hair on my head. Now, actually listen, okay?” Mother said loud and slowly, as if she was talking to a baby.

“Okay, got it.” Nevaeh replied in the same volume and tone.

“Good.” Mother said, out of her baby-talking voice, “Now, you should go and make some friends, then you can have them show you around.”

“Any other choices.” Nevaeh uttered, already bored.

“Excuse me. Watch your tone there, young lady. Anywho, you could also schedule an appointment for a tour guide, after all, you are always on your laptop and your phone. You can figure out everything from there.”

“... Why can’t I just stay at home, I only need to leave for groceries and school.”

“Excuse me? No, you are still just fourteen years old, you deserve a childhood. I barely got one. I still want you to have one, too.” Mother fiercely and gently said.

“I like to play video games, and I like to hang out with myself.”

“Nevaeh.” Mother announced using that voice of hers.

“Yes Mother.” Nevaeh said, her voice unwavering.

“Huh, it seems like you aren’t scared of that voice anymore… Too bad.” Mother said formally.

Yeah! I’m not scared no more, I stood up to her. HA! Somehow, through these thoughts, Nevaeh was able to keep her voice calm and collected, “I need to get off the phone now Mother, that way and can get home, I’m by this alleyway and it’s creeping me out. Ttly, bye Mom, love ya.”

“Excuse ME!” She practically screamed, “What did you just ca-”

Nevaeh hung up on her, ugh, that was so annoying, doesn’t she know that calling her ‘Mother’ all the time gets weird. Gods! ‘What did you just call me! I only go by Mother, and that’s it. Bullshit! I tell you, bullshit!

Nevaeh walked through the door hesitantly, wondering what man is going to be here today. “Hey, I’m home,” muttered Nevaeh, not wanting to go into the master bedroom so she wouldn’t have to see all the gross stuff her mother and the man she shares a bed with. I don’t know how she can bed a different man every single day. It’s simple. You find someone that’s in love with you and you're in love with them. It’s not that hard!

“Hello Honey.” Mother said walking out of the kitchen, “I was thinking we could go to the mall today, of course that is after you say sorry.” Mother was tall and slim, with light blue wings and nice black hair that went down to her breast. I wonder when I’m going to earn my wings. White wings are the weakest; able to fly in them, but that’s it; blue is okay to have; including two powers and being able to fly; gold is the best; five powers and able to fly; black is amazing, best in history, but it’s ancient, nobody has have it for 100,000 years, or somewhere around that; ten powers and able to fly. I want to have blue because I don’t want to be too powerful, Nevaeh thought to myself.

They were done shopping and looking around, Mother told Nevaeh to go home. “I have… Important business to take care of. Bye honey, love you, see you later.”

“Umm, okay? Bye? I guess I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah…” She trailed off.

Around ten o’clock at night, Nevaeh started to worry, where could Mother be, it’s getting a little late.

She never knew her father, because she never had one. The only reason why she was here was because of her mom’s boyfriend back in high school. Somehow he bedded her without her agreeing to it. After that, she took a pregnancy test and, sadly, it was positive. She told her boyfriend, her parents, her sister too, but they all didn’t like it. Her boyfriend broke up with her; her parents disowned her; and her sister claimed they were not related. Mother had Nevaeh alone, and because it was all Nevaeh's fault, she never got angry at her. Mother only looked at the bright side and in this situation, Nevaeh was her only family. Now everyday she beds someone, Nevaeh knows she doesn’t like it, but Mother does so that way Nevaeh can say she finally had a dad; for Mother to finally call someone her husband; and for both of them to call someone else, other than them, family.

While Nevaeh was off in her head, worried about Mother, her phone rang. Somehow in her dazed form, she hit the answer button, not paying attention to whoever was talking. “Nevaeh, whatever you do, don’t come looking for me, don’t even go outside today or tomorrow! Okay?... Do you hear me, Nevaeh!”

At her name being screamed, she snapped back to reality. “Huh, you say something, Mother?”

“NEVAEH!” Screamed her mother, “You need to listen, okay?”

“Got it! Now what was it?”

“Don’t come outside, don’t come looking for me if you're worrying, okay?”

“Why?” Questioned Nevaeh.

“Uhh, I can’t tell you that.” Mother murmured.

“Oh, sure you can. Darling.” A voice purred in the background, “I’m sure your daughter would love to know what I’m about to do…”

“Ignore her and listen to me, okay? In the morning you will probably be taken to the police station. They will hopefully explain what’s going on, okay?”

“Okay.” Nevaeh said, her voice shaking. Damn, I sound like a little kid.

“But promise me something, Honey.”

“Huh?” Nevaeh said in a squeaky voice.

“Promise me that you’ll never lose your spirit, okay? Promise me that nobody will ever break you, promise me that you’ll never bed someone unless he is your true love.”

“That’s a lot of things to keep as a promise, what if I fail one of them?”

“Honey, you’re only fourteen years old, take a load off, if something is bad or you did wrong, I will show you signs. I will tell you what to fix, and how to do so, okay? You have nothing to worry about…” Mother said so calmly, as if she knew this was going to happen already, as if she knew… As if she put herself in this situation, to have an excuse to die, to escape this ugly world and everything in it. Or maybe it’s to see someone she dearly missed. “And,” She said in the quietest voice ever, so quiet that Nevaeh had to turn up the volume to high and still focus on her words to hear them, “If you ever get to see me when I’m dead, pry my hands open and take the necklace in my hand. It would be in my left hand, and when you have this, you will be protected.”

Right, Nevaeh thought, I don’t have any wings to shield myself from any danger that might come my way, damn, when are these wings supposed to come. There’s no way I’ll be wingless, there better not be. “Okay, what does it look like?” Nevaeh asked, while grabbing a piece of paper and a pen.

“An eye.” Mother now spoke loudly again, “It looks like an eye, with a black opal in the middle of it. Silver chain, and about the size of a newborn’s hand, maybe a little bit smaller. You may notice it will glow at times, the black will become this blue light, it will only glow in times when there is danger around you, or when you are in danger, it will save you from harm. When you get it, wear it forever, in other words, NEVER TAKE IT OFF! Okay?” 

“Yeah…” Nevaeh muttered in a tiny voice, still shocked of what’s going on at the moment.

“‘Kay… Know that I will always love you.” Now Nevaeh could hear her mother crying.

“Gods, this is taking so long, are you two done with your little talk, because I AM!” That mysterious voice yelled. It sounded like the person was laughing again.

Now Nevaeh started crying, “NO, DON’T LEAVE ME! PLEASE!” Nevaeh sobbed. “Please… Please… DON’T KILL HER YOU MONSTER!” She heard the noise that seemed like the whole universe was waiting for. Ka-blam! “No, No! NO! MOTHER!”

“You’ll be next, my Darling.” The person made that creepy laugh that sent Nevaeh’s blood running cold.

“No, I won’t, you will die before I do. Listen to me when I say this. You will die on the seventeenth of November, this year.” Wait! Who’s talking, it’s me saying this stuff, but it’s like someone else is controlling me. What’s happening!

That is when Nevaeh felt a stab in her back. Right after she said those words. Right through her entire spine, splintering pain went all through her.

Last thing she heard was: “Bye!” from that weird mysterious person, it sounded like the murderer stepped on the phone, and then did she blacked out.

1831 words :)

[rotationalsymmetry]

Btw, overview on CFS self-care:

1. People with CFS have limited spoons/spell slots/whatever, and get hit hard for overextending. (Apparently especially hard even by spoonie standards I think? Not sure.) When someone with (suspected/definite) CFS has variable symptoms, some relatively good days and some very very bad days, going from feeling relatively good to very bad (eg needing to take a nap when they don't normally) in a short period of time, etc, that's a good sign that they are frequently overextending. The way I used to figure out my spoon budget (cfs self help dot org calls this the energy envelope, this method is from them) was to track my activity for 2 week, then take the average. (Some things are hard to compare, and some things you're just not going to do the same amount of every day, so do your best. For instance, I noticed if I had multiple social events planned for one weekend, I was always canceling the third one whether I wanted to or not, so I started planning no more than two events per weekend.) (if you've got eg a job with set hours that you can't quit, well, do your best you know?)

2. If you want to try to do more, make very, very small changes and only make a change once every two weeks, and go back to your previous level if things get worse. For instance, if you walk a mile every day, increase to 1.1 miles and see how that goes. Do not do this without having done step 1 first and gotten to a point where you don't have huge good day/bad day swings, you need to be able to tell if things are getting worse! (It's also ok to not try to do more at all.)

3. When you feel like you need to rest, rest. (Again caveats around obligations you really, truly, cannot get out of. But skip things when you can. Or get someone else to do it.)

4. Rest before you feel like you need to rest on a set schedule. If this is new to you, try once a day, for at least 10 minutes, lying down. Often people have problems with this because their mind goes to stressed/scared places; if that happens, find a way to not do that? Happy music, a body scan or a sleep meditation, reading something first so your mind will be filled up with thoughts of your blorbos, whatever. If that seems to help, you can consider making it a longer period of time and/or have more frequent rests.

5. Like with everything else, stress makes CFS worse so stress relief activities are good. Deep breathing. Progressive muscular relaxation. (This can count as your rest.) Restorative yoga. (Ditto, if it's what I think of as restorative poses (restful! Lying down!) and not a random collection of sitting stretches that are getting called restorative for unclear reasons.) Whatever.

6. Do it differently: sit in the shower, sit while waiting for the light to change (folding stool ftw), use a wheelchair or scooter, order groceries online, do vacuuming in a wheelie chair, whatever. Using a grabby thing to pick up stuff on the floor. Keeping your kitchen pots and pans on the stove -- in general, stuff stored between your shoulders and your knees are easier to get to than stuff higher or lower. Relax with your feet elevated rather than on the floor. Buy the lettuce that's already been washed and cut up. (I hear some spoonies swear by baby food? Whatever works for you.)

7. Get someone else to do it or don't do it at all.

8. Emotional management: CFS can make people more emotionally reactive/mood-swing-y and strong emotions can make CFS worse. Fun! CBT (for feelings, not to keep from having CFS) helps some people. Finding out what works for you can be an ongoing project.

9. Dealing with people: I don't know what to say about this, mostly the people in my life have been pretty cool? For mostly pretty cool people, cuing them on how you expect them to act can help (like, if you don't want advice, sounding very matter of fact when talking about having cfs can help.) that website I keep mentioning has more to say on this. Part of this is FOMO (fear of missing out), I don't know what to say, that sure is A Thing.

10. If you want to go down the rabbit hole, there's a variety of supliments and alternative medicine stuff that some people will swear by. I like cfs self help because it's not selling supplements but you do you. My doc recommended a couple so at least some have some evidence behind them.

11. Exercise: complicated. Physical activity is the main thing that causes people to go outside their spoon budget, so be careful, but often people find they can do some degree of physical movement that seems to be beneficial. Stretching is usually safest, and things like rolling your shoulders or ankles, gentle movements. Strength exercises that you can do without elevating your heart rate or crashing later might be beneficial -- focus on stuff you can do sitting or lying down, or very short opportunistic bits of exercise you can do like standing on one leg while you wait for the microwave. Generally for people who can walk, small amounts of walking are very good. For people who are bedbound, there's some stretches and stuff that can be done in bed. Be very cautious about exercises (or chores, errands, etc) that increase your heart rate. I've found I can generally handle 1-2 flights of stairs per day, but not always if I'm already having a rough time and 3+ in one day is pretty much always bad for me. Be aware that walking uphill is different from walking on level ground.

12. Break it up: oh, I probably should have put this way up higher, oh well. Often people with cfs notice they can do more if they do it in smaller chunks, eg 15 minutes of checking emails, five minute break, another fifteen minutes. Or do some of the dishes, break, then some more. Or not getting dressed right after showering.

13. Time of day: I can tolerate way more in the late afternoon or evening than the morning, for other people it's the opposite.

14. Sensory sensitivities: some of us are sensitive to things like light or noise, so things like keeping the lights dim, wearing sunglasses, or wearing earplugs can help. (I find having headphones play white noise/nature sounds actually works way better than noise canceling.) Be careful of socializing in loud places, following a conversation takes energy and it takes a lot more when there's a lot of background noise. Likewise for phone conversations with a lot of static etc. unfortunately trying to understand someone with an accent can use more energy (or I assume following someone speaking a language that isn't your first language), that can't necessarily be avoided but you can plan for needing more rest around it.

Hello my fellow cripples, how do I get diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome? I am almost certain I have it but would like to know what to expect when I go trying to get diagnosed with it

[fontegagrilledcheese]

Dumbasses in Quarantine

This is my Bog Exchange fic! I finally finished! This is for the lovely @herostag I hope they like it!

Special thanks to Dani and Doug for beating my grammar with a stick. Ily <3

This is 2.9K words of idiots being idiots during the plague. Just pure fluff, no CW here. Modern Au.

1. Geralt had finally had enough of Jaskier complaining about all the takeout they had been consuming since everything had gone on lockdown, so here he was, watching a pot of noodles cook while Jaskier was in the living room weeding his island in Animal Crossing for the third time that week. He stirs the spaghetti around before grabbing a second pot and the jar of pasta sauce that he had bought at some point in the last few years. Geralt pours the sauce into the pot, throws some Italian seasoning in and hmms at the consistency before ladling some pasta water into the sauce to thin it out slightly. “Dinner’s almost ready” Geralt softly calls to Jaskier before going back to his noodles, fishing one out to check the doneness. Geralt bites into it and makes a face at the sweetness as Jaskier walks into the kitchen.

 “Everything all right there?” Jaskier inquires, coming over to look into the pots on the stove. 

“Hmmm, I think so. Taste this?” Geralt fishes another noodle out to hand over to Jaskier, who eats it with a hum. 

“That doesn’t taste right,” Jaskier says thoughtfully. “But I don't know enough about cooking to dispute it.” 

Geralt hums again, “Think it will be fine?” 

Jaskier just shrugs and goes to set the table, leaving Geralt to finish putting the meal together. Geralt tilts his head at the pots on the stove before pulling out his phone to text  Eskel ‘is pasta supposed to be sweet when cooking?’

While waiting for a reply, Geralt drains the noodles and dumps them into the sauce to stir them in before his phone rings with a call from Eskel. 

“You tried a noodle and it tasted sweet?”

“Yeah, is it supposed to be like that?”

There is a moment of silence where Lambert can be heard laughing in the background before Eskel replies, “Are you sure you put salt in the water?”

“Yeah, poured a bunch of salt in there like you said to.”

Eskel hums, “Are you sure it wasn't sugar? Did you make sure to taste it first?”

The silence on Geralt's side is telling, and Lambert can be heard dying in the background. 

“Thanks Eskel,” Geralt says before hanging up and staring down at the pot of sugared spaghetti. 

“Hey Jask, how do you feel about getting takeout again?”

Jaskier sighs, “What happened?”

Geralt blushes “I… I may have put sugar in the water instead of salt…”

“Oh… but the sauce?” 

“I put some of the pasta water in the sauce to thin it.”

Jaskier starts giggling, “G-Geralt... noooo.”

Geralt sighs, wearily turning off the stove. “So takeout?” 

“Yeah, takeout is fine. Whatever you feel like.”

Geralt hums and pulls up the delivery app, “Sorry, Jask.”

Jaskier sidles up to him, giving him a half hug, “Thanks for trying.” He leans fully into him so he can see Geralt's phone as they order.

2. A while into quarantine, Jaskier decided he needed some greenery in his life, since he couldn’t leave the house. This led Jaskier to order himself a cute little cactus from a local nursery for the next time they order a grocery pick up. Talking Geralt into stopping by the shop on the way back from the store proved easier than Jaskier had anticipated. Geralt had begrudgingly agreed after hours of Jaskier’s pouting and puppy eyes wearing him down. 

Jaskier dances around the apartment with his new treasure before placing it on the sunny windowsill in their living room. Geralt rolls his eyes but smiles at his roommates' antics, “You do know how to take care of it don’t you?”

Jaksier pouts at him, “It’s a cactus, how hard can it be! I just water it every so often and bam, beautiful thriving mini Geralt!”

Geralt huffs at him, grabbing a controller for their gaming console, “You promised I could destroy you at Mortal Combat if we picked up the plant.”

“Yes, yes Geralt I’m coming, just let me water my precious child.”

Weeks later, Little Geralt starts looking a bit droopy, causing Jaskier to water him, but unfortunately Jaskier does not account for his ADHD and lack of calendar filling out, and proceeds to water the poor cactus every day for the next two weeks, water logging and eventually killing poor Little Geralt.

Once Jaskier realizes, he cries to Geralt only a little and has a funeral for the cactus as he throws it away, being the absolute most dramatic about it as possible. Geralt just rolls his eyes at the antics and adds a new plant to the order list to pick up the next time they have their outing to go get groceries.

Jaskier gives Geralt the biggest hug when he realises they’re heading to the plant store and talks excitedly about how determined he is to to not kill Little Geralt the Second; Geralt just rolls his eyes half heartedly but helps Jaskier set up a calendar to keep track of when he’s watered the cactus. This works for about a month before Jaskier gets busy and forgets about his little plant, frying on the windowsill, until Geralt notices about three months later.

“Hey Jask, your cactus is looking a bit… shriveled.”

Jaskier rushes into the living room “NO!” He yells as he slides to a stop on his knees before the  dried up little plant “Noooooooo, Little Geralt the Second, nooooo!” he shakes his fists at the ceiling.

Geralt pats his shoulder comfortingly, “At least it lived longer this time.”

Jaskier shakes his head with a sigh. “I’m a terrible plant parent.”

Geralt hmms consolingly, “We can get you another. I’ll try to help you keep better track of it this time.” 

Jaskier nods, “Thanks Geralt,” and picks up his dead plant to go throw it out. 

Geralt just hmms and pulls up the pick-up list on his phone to add a new little cactus.

Three months later, Little Geralt the Third is thriving in its place on the windowsill, happily soaking up the sun on a bright spring day as a breeze comes through the window. Jaskier dances around the living room, vacuuming and dusting as Geralt cleans the kitchen of the previous night’s actually decent attempt at cooking. Jaskier sings along to ABBA, twirling with his duster mic when disaster strikes poor Little Geralt the Third. Jaskier swirls too close to the window and pops his hip at just the wrong time and the plant wobbles before being pushed off the edge and falls three stories down to the concrete sidewalk down below. Jaskier freezes at the crashing sound and turns to look out the window, staring down at his poor, broken plant.

“Nooooooo, Geralt!” Jaskier yells, and Geralt comes running in from the kitchen, startled by Jaskier’s cry. 

“Jask?!” 

Jaskier just points down at the sidewalk, falling to his knees “Geralt, I killed him! I killed our son! To ABBA!” 

Jaskier sprawls out on the floor dramatically, mourning the fate of poor Little Geralt the Third, who had been thriving wonderfully before going splat on the pavement. 

Geralt sits down next to his dramatic roommate and pats his leg, “That one was actually doing pretty well. Maybe we could get another and just find a better place for it to sit?”

Jaskier sniffles and looks through his lashes at Geralt, “Really?” 

Geralt nods before being tackled to the ground in a tight hug. 

“Thanks Geralt.” Jaskier whispers, nuzzling into his friend.

3. Geralt stood staring into the mirror at the red roots growing into his perfect silver platinum hair. He pouts at it, looking at his hair and then back down at his phone at the pictures of his past beautiful silver hair. 

“I can do it, how hard can it be?” he grumbles, glaring back at his roots. He nods to himself before searching different bleaches, toners, and silver dyes that are available at their local beauty shop.

A week and two trips to the store later, Geralt is once again standing in the bathroom and glaring at his roots in the mirror. “How hard can it be...”

Five hours later, Jaskier comes home from the park to Geralt sitting on the couch in a hoodie with the hood on and scrunched up around his face, pouting.

“So how did it go?” he asks.

Geralt grunts in response.

“Oh it can’t be that bad,” comes Jaskier’s exasperated reply, reaching for the hood over the back of the couch.

Geralt growls and catches his hand, yanking and pulling Jaskier over the couch and partially into his lap.

Jaskier laughs and reaches up again with both hands, trying to use one as a distraction. Geralt growls again and tackles him to the floor to pin him, where they tussle around before Jaskier gets an upper hand and pulls the hood off. Geralt freezes as Jaskier stares at him with wide eyes and a growing smile.

 “Don’t,” he growls.

Jaskier’s grin turns into giggles, then into full on laughter. “Geralt! Your hair!” 

Geralt sits back with a pout, still sitting on Jaskier. “I know, it's horrible.”

“It's bright purple! What did you do!?”

Geralt flushes, “I forgot to set a timer and left the toner in too long. It should wash out and wear off in a few weeks,” he grumbles.

Jaskier continues to giggle. “Well at least it's not permanent, and you bleached the roots pretty well.”

Geralt sighs and nods before laying down on Jaskier for a consolation cuddle. “Yeah, at least there's that.”

4. Geralt’s birthday was coming up and Jaskier was determined to celebrate it, even if they couldn’t go on their customary birthday bar crawl that they had gone on for both of their birthdays since they had been roommates in college. Jaskier wanted to go the extra mile for his bestest friend in the whole world and decided that he was going to make Geralt a homemade cake, icing drizzle and all. Jaskier had scoured the internet for weeks trying to find a cake he thought geralt would like and that he thought he could make with his limited baking abilities. He finally found the perfect recipe for a simple strawberry pound cake that he only had to buy a minimal amount of extra ingredients for. 

The day of Geralt's birthday, Jaskier sets up in the kitchen and banishes Geralt to the living room to play his new Witcher game while Jaskier makes the cake. 

He starts by setting out everything he needs and getting the beaters set up and his recipe out. He preheats the oven and then gets to work measuring everything out carefully, looking back at his recipe often, so often he doesn’t quite notice that he’s grabbed the salt container instead of the sugar and measures out the three cups the recipe calls for before adding it into the wet ingredients bowl to cream together as stated by the recipe. Jaskier goes about making his cake and mixing it up, carefully pouring it into the disposable cake tin they had bought specially for the event before putting it in the oven and carefully setting a timer on his phone.

He takes a break for a moment to make a cup of tea before cleaning up the mess from the cake and mixing up the simple drizzle icing for the cake.

The timer goes off and Jaskier pokes the cake with a toothpick as he has been directed, frowning at the lopsided cake. 

“Is that how it should look?” he mutters to himself, looking at the clean toothpick. “Guess it’s done.”

He pulls the cake out of the oven and  sets it on the rack to cool, poking little holes in it with the toothpick to help it cool and absorb some of the icing later.

After 30 minutes, he drizzles the icing over the cake, humming happily to himself. 

“Geralt, do you want to do cake now or later?” he calls into the living room. Geralt hmms and stands before replying, “Now.”

Jaskier grins and grabs them plates, forks, and a knife to cut the cake with.

Geralt stands beside him at the counter, smiling softly at the cake Jaskier has made him. 

“Thanks Jask,” he says softly. 

Jaskier grins fully at him. “Happy birthday, Geralt!”

They cut into the cake and serve themselves. Geralt happily eats his, reaching out to get seconds while Jaskier frowns at his slice. “Does this taste right to you?” he takes another bite while Geralt shrugs.

“Tastes fine to me,” he replies, happy to continue eating what his Jaskier has made him. 

Jaskier frowns more and looks at his recipe, “I dunno, doesn’t it taste salty?” 

Geralt hmms in thought before continuing to eat, “Suppose so, but it’s not too bad.”

Jaskier gasps. “Geralt! No Geralt, stop eating that! I must have mixed up the salt and sugar when I was measuring, oh! It's terrible, I’m so sorry, Geralt,” he whines, looking almost at the verge of tears. 

This causes Geralt to pause his gremlin-like cake eating, setting the plate down before pulling his best friend into a tight hug, resting his head against the others. “So maybe you had a booboo with it and it’s a little salty. You know I’m not picky, and it tastes fine and vaguely like strawberries. I’ll eat it anyway, Jask.” he grumbles out.

Jaskier sniffles. “But you deserve a good cake that’s made correctly.”

Geralt hums, “Maybe, but this is something you’ve made for me with all your heart, and I think it tastes alright, and I will keep eating it, because you made it for me and that makes it taste all the sweeter.”

Jaskier sniffles again, squeezing the man in his arms tightly “Oh, you big softy! You don’t have to eat it.” 

“But I want to.”

“Fine.” Jaskier sighs, nuzzling the broad chest he’s pressed against. “Love you”

Geralt smiles softly, pressing a kiss to Jaskiers temple. “Love you too, you disaster.” 

Jaskier gasps and smacks his chest “You!”

Geralt laughs and grabs his cake before dragging Jaskier to the couch. “Come on, I demand my birthday cuddles.”

Jaskier puffs his cheeks but settles against Geralt on the couch, holding the controller for him “If this is my penance.”

5. Usually Jaskier did the laundry while Geralt did dishes. This was because Jaskier had many a delicate piece in his wardrobe and he did not trust Geralt to treat his clothes the right way if he were to do the laundry. Geralt didn’t care much either way who did the dishes and who did the laundry, as long as the chores ended up done in the end. This was how their kitchen, laundry nook, and part of their living room ended up absolutely covered in bubbles.

They had decided to switch up the chore rotation for the week because the dishes weren’t too bad and Jaskier hadn’t worn any of his ‘delicate’ pieces in the past week and a half, meaning there was nothing of his Geralt could mess up. The switching of chores had unforeseen consequences however, in that neither remembers exactly how to do the new chore, as they hadn’t had to in at least a year. Rather than ask the other for help, both Jaskier and Geralt decided to wing it and try their best. 

Jaskier stares down at Geralt, slav squatting, staring at the bubbles that were slowly invading their apartment via the laundry and kitchen. 

“So, I couldn’t remember which dish liquid was the one for the dishwasher and put the red one in, which was apparently the wrong choice…… What did you do to create the bubbles in the washer?” 

Geralt grunts. “That was the dawn dish soap that we hand wash the alcohol glasses with,” he sighs. “I may have put a full cup of laundry detergent in the washing machine”

Jaskier gasps “A full- Geralt! The entire cup!? That’s at least double the amount you’re supposed to use!” 

Geralt pouts. “I couldn’t remember how much,” he grumbles

“You could have asked me!”

This earns Jaskier a raised eyebrow and the stink eye.

“Fair enough,” he giggles. “We should have asked each other when we were confused.”

Geralt nods before standing. “Well I guess we should turn the appliances off before the bubbles get worse… wish me luck”

Jaskier nods and jokingly salutes him. “I’ll remember you dearly.”

Geralt chuckles and shakes his head before wading into the bubbles to stop the dishwasher and washing machine cycles.

A minute later he reappears, covered in bubbles from head to toe, looking like some sort of grumpy snowman. Jaskier laughs at him before Geralt smirks and captures him in a bear hug, causing the man to shriek. “Nooo! Geralt my clothes! Ackkkk!”

Geralt swings him, picking him up slightly. “I think if we let the bubbles settle we can clean up in a little, but we should change first.”

Jaskier pouts “The point of you doing it was so only one of us had to change.”

Geralt gives him a toothy grin, carrying him towards their bedrooms to change. “But you laughed at me, that demands retribution.”

Jaskier just sticks his tongue out at him before being set down in front of his room. “Wanna play Smash while we wait?”

Geralt grins, “What, wanna get wrecked that badly?” he winks to Jaskiers affronted gasp before going in his room to change.

guess I’ll add my tag list huh

@geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @jaskiersvalley @jaskierswolf @dani-dandelino @wherethewordsare @softnerdypeter @thecomfortofoldstorries @dapandapod @lindianaj0nes @kuripon​ @elliestormfound @veritasrose

Hope y’all enjoyed it >///<

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch.3: Jesus Is A Pisces

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Mulder has forgotten Scully’s birthday every year but one. Actually, make that two now, since this year he’s determined to make the day special for her somehow. He’d asked her casually what her plans were, and she admitted that outside of a lunch with her mother and some church friends on Sunday the 22nd, she didn’t really have any intention to celebrate.

“It’s been a rough couple months,” she’d explained softly, and that’s all he needed to hear.  She’d gained and then buried a daughter within a few days’ time over Christmas, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know how she managed to stay sane after that, and if he thought about it for too long the waves of powerlessness and guilt that rolled over him were debilitating.

So instead he focused on what he could do.

“You wanna do something after work on Monday? I promise to be as un-festive as possible,” he offered.

She looked uncertain, licked her lip. “Just us?” she asked.

“Just you and me,” Mulder assured her, the words giving him a tiny, shameful thrill.

She was quiet for a moment. “Sure,” she said finally.

Come Monday, February 23rd, it’s business as usual in the basement office. They finalize their reports from the previous week’s case, wrangle their receipts, argue over who broke the stapler (It was him, she insists; while he claims she jammed the staples in and made it impossible to use properly).

At three minutes to five o’clock, she clears her throat softly as she gathers her things, and he can feel her preparing to speak.

“Yeah, Scully?” he murmurs.

“We still on for tonight?” she asks, sounding almost cautious, and his heart fractures.

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he confirms, leafing through a file. “Be sure to bundle up.” He looks up at her and gives her a reassuring grin.

She looks happy and… relieved? Huh.

“Well, I’ll see you then,” she says, shrugging on her coat as she leaves.

Mulder smiles at the door as it clicks shut behind her. He’s unusually giddy about what he has planned for the evening.

Over the weekend he had gone to the grocery store since his refrigerator was barren, then camped out in his building’s laundry room all day Sunday washing every blanket he owned. He even stopped at the little bakery around the corner from his apartment, purchasing a single chocolate cupcake and a loaf of rye bread.

After work he packs his car with a cooler, a duffel bag, a large thermos of coffee, and a pile of blankets.

He’s surprised to see that she’s waiting for him on the steps of her apartment, wearing a heavy jacket and thick turtleneck sweater.

“I got too hot wearing all this inside,” she explains, climbing into the passenger seat. She seems almost excited, and he strangely wants to cry. God, he’s so fucking glad he had the balls to invite her out again.

“Where are we going, Mulder?” Scully asks.

“It’s a surprise,” he replies.

Seven minutes and three wrong turns later, he reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out the map, handing it to her. “Rock Creek Park, please, Navigator,” he says.

“Aha! I thought the route we were taking seemed… circuitous,” Scully says with a smirk, unfolding the map.

“Just tell me where to go; I don’t need a running commentary,” he gripes, secretly relishing her needling.

In about twenty minutes, they arrive at the park’s nature center. Mulder pulls into the lot next to the field across the road and cuts the engine.

“We’re here?” Scully asks, looking around. “It’s deserted. Mulder, please don’t tell me we’re ghost hunting,”

“Ghosts? No,” he says, climbing out of the car and going around to the trunk. “Help me with some stuff?”

Scully comes around to the back of the car, where Mulder hands her the cooler and thermos. He slings the duffel bag over his shoulder and gathers up the pile of blankets. “Close the trunk, will you, Scully?” he says, walking towards the field. “My arms are full.”

They trudge out to the middle of the field, cold winter air biting their cheeks. Mulder stops abruptly and drops the blankets onto the ground in a heap.

“We’re here,” he announces, setting down the duffel bag. He picks up a heavy wool blanket and spreads it out on the grass.

Scully sits down on the blanket, cooler and thermos beside her. “What exactly are we doing out here, Mulder?” she asks.

“Well first, we eat,” he replies, reaching for the cooler. He opens it and pulls out two waxed-paper parcels, handing one to her. “Pastrami on rye,” he announces. “I went a little crazy with the mustard on one of them, we can trade if you want.”

“You made these?” she asks, unwrapping the sandwich and taking a bite. “Oh my god,” she groans. “Mulder, you’ve been holding out on me. This is delicious.”

The satisfaction in her voice makes him flush. “It’s pretty hard to mess up pastrami.”

“True,” she agrees, “but I was starting to doubt you could even make food. Your refrigerator is usually pretty sparse.”

Mulder shrugs, opening the thermos of coffee and pouring her a cup. “Cooking for one doesn’t hold much appeal,” he explains.

“Mm,” she agrees around a mouthful of sandwich, taking the proffered cup. “So Mulder, tell me; is there a reason we’re having a picnic in the dark?” She eyes the duffel bag beside him suspiciously.

“I’m glad you asked,” he replies, unzipping the bag and pulling out a tripod. “You know anything about constellations, Scully?”

It’s a rhetorical question, of course. He already knows.

“A thing or two,” she replies casually, clearly attempting to hide the smile sneaking across her mouth as she eats.

“Well that’s good, seeing as I lugged this telescope and a star map all the way out here,” he says, pulling the telescope case out of the bag.

Scully is enraptured, and Mulder thinks this might be the best thing he’s ever done for anyone.

“I haven’t done this in years,” she says, peering through the eyepiece as she adjusts the telescope’s position. “Not since…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but she doesn’t have to. He remembers her telling him once, on a long car ride to some anonymous, unremarkable town, about stargazing with her father when she was a child. Captain Ahab and his Starbuck, navigating the night skies by way of celestial markers.

The temperature’s dropping, and Mulder drapes the ratty tribal weave blanket from his couch around her shoulders as she searches the heavens.

“You want a turn?” she asks, drawing back from the telescope for a moment.

He shakes his head, plops down on the blanket and gazes at her instead.

They could be astronauts together, sailors of the stars. Dropping anchor in pools of the Milky Way, swimming through constellations and running their fingers through glittering strands of nebulae.

“I’m good,” he replies softly.

“Mulder?” Scully says from under a pile of blankets.

They’re lying on their backs now, side by side, eyes on the sky. Waiting for a meteor, or a passing satellite, or for God to wave hello.

“Yeah, Scully?”

“Do you give any credence to astrology, or is that too close to religion for you?”

“I appreciate its historical and cultural significance,” he replies. “Beyond that, I can’t say I have much of an opinion on it. Aren’t you a Pisces?” he asks, as though he doesn’t already know that she is, and that he’s a Libra, and that the shitty magazine he picked up in the dentist’s office says they’d be a tumultuous but passionate match. Not that he gives horoscopes any weight.

Passionate, though…

“I am. And I’m inclined to agree with you, though astrology’s link with early Christianity is fascinating. For example, did you know that Jesus is linked to Pisces? His birth coincides with the dawning of the astrological Age of Pisces, which spans from 1 AD to the year 2150. There are many scriptural references to fishermen, and early Christians used the fish symbol as a sign of their faith.”

“Huh,” he says, tucking a blanket more tightly around his shoulders.

“I don’t believe that the stars dictate my temperament, by the way,” Scully continues. “But there’s something beautiful about having a constellation in the sky that corresponds with your own birth. Missy knew more about this stuff,” she say wistfully. “She’d read me my horoscope every morning before school while we brushed our hair or whatever, in the bathroom where Mom couldn’t hear. It was fun,” she says with a sigh.

“Do you think she’s out there, in the stars?” Mulder asks and immediately regrets it. He didn’t mean the question to sound flippant.

Scully takes it in stride. “Is it crazy if I say maybe? There’s… there’s things I’ve seen and heard, Mulder, that I can’t explain. Who am I to say how God operates? Maybe He’s laid the stars out like a map for us to read. That’s probably wishful thinking, but life would be a hell of a lot simpler if everything was dictated by heavenly bodies.”

“Better that than by governing bodies,” Mulder agrees.

Their eyes drift along the razor-sharp curves of the crescent moon.

“My mom wants to set me up with one of her church friends’ sons,” Scully says without preamble.

“Huh,” Mulder replies, tracing Orion with his eyes. “Let me guess; he’s a dentist.”

“Emergency physician, actually,” she replies. “He’s nice.”

Mulder suddenly feels the weight of gravity pressing him down to earth. He can feel the rotation of the planet under his back, spinning him at a thousand miles an hour. “You’ve met him?” he asks.

“Yesterday, at lunch,” Scully replies. “He’s a widower, with a six-year-old daughter. I think… I think my mom thinks we could help each other.”

Mulder’s stomach churns, a facsimile of seasickness rolling through his body. “What do you think?” he asks, voice oddly hoarse. “Do you… agree with her?”

Scully pulls the blanket higher under her chin and sighs. “I don’t know, Mulder. I’m thirty-four today, and my career runs my life. I’m not sure how many chances at a family will come my way in the future. It’s not ideal, but maybe I’m past the point of getting to choose.” She pauses. “I’m sorry, I’m being fatalistic.”

Despite the near-freezing temperature, he’s got a cold sweat forming on his back. “You can always choose, Scully. As far as I see it. It’s-it’s important to me that you know that.”

She rolls onto her side, snaking a hand out of the blanket to prop herself up on her elbow beside him. “Mulder, I know you blame yourself for the things that have happened to me. But they’re not your fault.” He opens his mouth and she interrupts him before he can speak. “Don’t argue with me. It’s my birthday.”

He’s grateful for a change of subject. “That reminds me,” he says, sitting up and reaching over to open the cooler.

He pulls out a small pink bakery box and opens it to remove a single chocolate cupcake with a candle stuck in the middle. He digs a lighter out of his coat pocket and gives it a flick, igniting the candle.

“Happy birthday, Scully,” he says sheepishly, holding out the cupcake.

The single flame shimmers in her eyes as she takes the dessert. “Mulder,” she says softly, in a tone that makes his heart turn to liquid. “I don’t… I don’t know what to say.”

“Just make a wish and blow the candle out before the wind does it for you,” he replies. There’s only a bit of a breeze but he’s not taking any chances. She deserves a wish.

Her eyes fall closed, and she sighs contentedly, no doubt formulating her request. Suddenly she opens her eyes and locks her gaze with his over the flickering candle, and Mulder feels a thousand words rumbling in him like an approaching avalanche.

Before he can say anything she purses her lips and extinguishes the lone flame with a breath.

She pulls the candle out of the cupcake and pops the end into her mouth, licking off chocolate frosting, and Mulder thinks he might die right there on a blanket in Rock Creek Park. He’s been so good, keeping his feelings to himself, but in this moment his only thoughts are that he loves her and wants her; no, needs her. He needs to touch her, taste the icing on her lips, map the constellations of freckles hiding beneath her sweater. Shake the winter chill out of his bones, letting the flames of her red hair lick across his skin and light his whole body on fire.

She’s saying something to him, biting into the cupcake, chocolate crumbs falling onto the blanket.

“Hm?” he asks, returning to terra firma.

“I asked if you wanted a bite,” she reiterates.

Yes, his body responds. Please please please-

“It’s yours,” he says as a declination.

“Therefore it’s mine to share,” she declares. She holds it out to him, and his stomach flutters as he leans in and takes a bite. He thinks of his parents’ faded wedding photos, of them feeding each other cake in black and white.

Don’t date the doctor guy, he pleads silently as he chews. Stay with me. Show me galaxies.

She falls asleep on the car ride home with one of his blankets tucked around her, the car’s heater cranked all the way up. When he parks in front of her building she stirs, likely awoken by the sudden cessation of warm air on her feet.

“Scully,” Mulder says softly, “We’re home.”

“Mmm,” she responds. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven,” he answers, glancing at his watch. “Can you walk or should I carry you up?” The question feels faintly suggestive, and he’s only being so bold because she’s drowsy and likely not registering the subtext.

“I can walk,” she says, sitting up and removing the blanket. Her hair is a fuzzy red halo in the glow of the streetlights.

“I’ll go with you,” he says, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Make sure you don’t pass out on your way up.”

“Thanks,” she yawns. “I don’t know why car rides make me so drowsy,” she says. “It’s like I’m five years old again.”

“Or it’s hypothermia,” Mulder suggests jokingly. “It got pretty damn cold out there.”

“Winter night picnics aren’t the most practical, it’s true,” she says. “But the blankets and coffee were a good idea.”

When they reach Scully’s apartment door she turns to face him. “Thank you for this,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”

He smiles softly at her. “Happy birthday,” he replies.

He’s mentally debating giving her a hug when she reaches out and pulls him in gently, arms looped around his waist. He wraps his arms around her and drops a light kiss to the crown of her head.

It’s over way too soon.

“Goodnight,” she says. “See you tomorrow.”

If he says anything else to her before she slips into the apartment and closes the door, he doesn’t remember it. His feet are firmly on the ground, carrying him out of her apartment building and back to his car, but his head is far above the atmosphere, adrift in space.

He’s so in love he feels as though he’s running out of air.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Erased Part 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, mentions of death and grave robbery, might get darker as the story progresses.

Words: 3870.

Summary: One night your friend calls to remind you about commemorating your classmate who had drowned many years ago. 

P.S. This was influenced by a Russian VN Opravdanie and some mourning rituals.

_____________________

One more evening. One more wasted day. With a grocery bag in your hand you kept walking the snowy streets of your home town where you spent all your life, never really trying to move somewhere: you had long decided there was no sense in going anywhere else even if your never changing routine was driving you crazy sometimes. Life was all the same in other places, too.

It was boring. Always quiet, always repetitive, always reminding you that it didn’t matter even if you’d forget the whole past year because it was all the same. A boring office job, small but stable salary, meetings with a couple of friends and fellow classmates from time to time, going to the same grocery store every week, returning to an empty apartment, spending your evening watching tv on the couch near a small radiator. Sometimes you would visit your parents or grandmother, listening to their concerns about you not having your own family yet and refusing to meet some son of their friends. Visits to another town close by were even more rare. You had never actually been to another country, and you had no idea what if felt like. Funny, but you didn’t even care.

You were stuck in that small snow-covered town where it had always been cold even when the gloomy summer was coming, and that was how it was supposed to be. You were destined to work somewhere you didn’t even like, one day marry a good for nothing guy and give birth to children who would inherit the same fate. There was nothing that could change - unless some hurricane would come and destroy the town at all. Then you would have to settle in some similar boring place and live the same way there.

Shaking off the snow from your hood, shoulders, and boots, you stepped into your apartment, happy it was much warmer inside - the radiator was working, thank goodness. As you hang your coat inside a hall closet, you brought the bag to the kitchen, lazily opening the fridge and looking at the meat leftovers and some porridge you cooked this morning. Uh-huh, you were too tired to make dinner, really. Some ham sandwiches would do.

Sitting on the coach again and watching some noir movie with a sandwich in your hand, you thought about how stupid your life was. What was you reason to live? Do some work nobody cared about? Making those silly reports nobody was going to read? Pleasing your parents with your mere presence? It was all you could think of, and the thought made you sad.

Suddenly, your phone rang, and you almost dropped the sandwich. Who was that? Your parents were going to bed early, and they didn’t really call you at this hour. Who was that?

Ah, Alex, a former classmate of yours who then studied in the same university as you. He was your good friend, and from time to time you were gathering in a cafe to chat about how things were going or just walked the streets together, complaining about your jobs.

“Don’t forget to commemorate Barnes today.” The message said, and you froze, furrowing your brows. Commemorate who?

That’s what you wrote to him, trying to remember who Alex was talking about.

“Barnes! Our classmate.” The next message said. “Remember when he got transferred to another school when we were 14? I’ve just talked to Anna, she said he drowned in the lake that year. Commemorate him today, it’s the day of his death.”

Oh shit. It’s true, you remembered that funny kid with a smile a mile wide and striking blue eyes all the girls were jealous of. How could you forget James? If you remembered well, you were kind of in love with him, but you were too young to really recognize your feelings and do something about them. Besides, when you thought of it now, you doubted James wouldn’t laugh at you. You two were just 14 years old, for God’s sake.

So, he died? Drowned? He probably wanted to take a shortcut through the lake instead of going through the whole park surrounding it, but that year the ice wasn’t strong enough to carry his weight, and he drowned just like several careless boys before him. Poor James. He was just a kid when it happened.

Suddenly, you realized how stupid of you was to think about your boring life and get upset over something so trivial. James was dead. You’d never chat about him with Alex and hear something about Barnes moving to some other city or getting a good raise or having a kid. He died. He was never going to get a job, marry someone, have children and live happily. You bet he would give anything for the boring life you were having.

Feeling cold, you stood up from the couch and headed over to the kitchen with a phone in your hand, a half-finished sandwich in the other. If it was the day of James’ death, you should really commemorate him: it meant having a drink and remembering something good about the boy, rest his soul. Maybe the next time you saw Alex you should talk about James with him, ask how did it really happen.

Despite you going through all the kitchen counters the only thing you found was some half-empty bottle of vodka probably forgotten by Alex or some of his friends. Shivering in your old knitted sweater, you looked out the window and furrowed your brows: it was too cold and dark to return to the grocery store for a bottle of wine. You’d prefer staying home and having just one shot of vodka, it was more than enough for commemorating someone. Not like James would care, really.

Cutting a few pieces of ham, cheese and some stale bread, you stopped for a second and went to an old wooden cupboard, taking out a few candies in bright-colored wrappings. Deciding it would be enough, you poured vodka into the glass and flinched, taking it closer to your mouth. Ugh, you never really liked strong alcohol, and the smell was kind of disgusting. Alex would laugh at you now, you thought and brought the glass to your mouth again.

I’m sorry it happened to you, James, you said to yourself, and the image of a smiling boy suddenly appeared in your head. You were a good kid. Rest in peace.

Knowing you won’t be able to tolerate the drink in your glass if you kept taking a sip after sip, you downed the shot and squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the liquid burning your throat and making you cough. Shit, it was certainly too strong for you, so you quickly took a piece of bread and put some cheese on eat, swallowing it to get the taste of vodka away. Disgusting.

I hope you are in a better place now, James.

Taking a deep breath, you quickly finished your improvised sandwich and took a candy, leaving a wrapping on the table and not even bothering with throwing it in the trash bin. The taste of alcohol was still lingering on your tongue, and it was hard to breathe, making you cough and shut your eyes again. Damn, that was the last time you drank it. From now on nothing but wine!

Thinking water wasn’t enough to keep that irritating taste away, you put a metallic kettle on the stove to make some tea and sat back, watching the snow storm becoming stronger outside. Except the actual snow, everything was pitch black - street lights never worked despite people complaining to the town administration all the time. They only shone bright near the town hall, that’s how thing were in this godforsaken place.

Shit, you had the audacity to think of things like that when you were commemorating James, the boy who died before he even reached adulthood. Who on Earth cared about street lights right now?

Shaking your head, you decided to switch the lights off in the kitchen to have a chance to see the street. Soon you were sitting close to a cracked windowsill and staring at the never ending blackness, finding an odd comfort in it and the sounds of a raging storm. With each passing second it felt like your life wasn’t as bad as you thought.

____________

When you woke up from a loud sound as if someone was hitting the walls with great force, it smelled like something was burning in the kitchen, your throat dry and your head heavy; you felt like you were knocked down and stepped on because your head hurt. What had happened? What was that? That smell?..

The kettle on the stove.

Your body moved on your own when you opened a window, the snow getting in immediately and flying over the kitchen while you struggled to stand, using a chair to get closer to a stove with its surface becoming red, a kettle slowly melting on it. As you switched if off, you turned on the tap and immediately poured water over the kettle, then spraying some water on your face and clothes, realizing you almost caused a fire. Why didn’t the damn alarm work? Oh, this shit was so old you were hardly surprised.

Damn, you were lucky you had an electric, not a gas stove. You’d be dead by now.

As you slowly came back to your senses, you suddenly thought about that odd sound of someone hitting the wall upstairs, eventually waking you up. There was an old man living upstairs, the one who had always been in a cranky mood, but he had never woke you up at night like that. Was it the heat? Did he feel it and woke you up? Was it something else?

Looking at what was left from your beautiful metallic kettle on the stove, you let out a breath nervously and, wearing something like your old autumn jacket - it was hard to tell what you pulled from a hall closet - you quickly left your apartment, running up the stairs. What if the old man was having a stroke?

Feeling a bit dizzy still, you banged his door desperately, not knowing if he was still conscious or not. Was he still alive? Was he alright? If he were, was he going to open the door and yell at you at the top of his voice for almost burning your apartment down? Well, you thought you’d prefer the last option if it meant the man who saved you also stayed alive.

But he wasn’t opening. In fact, you heard no sounds coming from his apartment at all. Shit, he was really having a stroke, and you needed...

“Is everything alright?” Somebody to your left asked, and you jumped, clutching the jacket on your chest. “I’m sorry if I scared you, but you have been banging the door as if your life depends on it.”

It was a tall, beefy man in a black t-shirt with some heavy metal band on it, his dull brown hair quite long for a man living in a town as conservative as yours, eyes strikingly blue. He was living next to the man above you.

“Your neighbor...” You had a hard time pulling yourself together, your throat  parched and scratchy. “He has been hitting the wall... He might be having a stroke.”

The man arched an eyebrow at you, cocking his head to the side. “You sure? He went to see his children a few days ago. I don’t think he came back.”

“No, I’m sure!”

Obviously, the wall banging sounded right above your head, and no one but an old man living above you could do it. Yes, you were close to fainting that moment, but the sound was too clear to just brush it off.

“I need to call an ambulance.”

“Wait, he left me the keys to his apartment in case if the drain bursts again. Give me a second.” The next moments the stranger disappeared inside his own apartment, and for a couple of agonizing seconds you were left all alone on the staircase until the man showed up with a key in his hand, proceeding to open the door.

Getting inside, you started yelling loudly, “Sir! Sir, are you here?”

You ran to the kitchen, almost forgetting about the stranger: the picture of an old man laying on the floor breathless was making your hair stand on end. However, once you got there and put the lights on, you realized there was no one there. The kitchen was completely empty, dust gathering on the top of the counters and in the corners of the room. It looked like no one had been there for at least a couple of days. Were you mistaken? No, it couldn’t be, you heard that sound, it woke you up, for God’s sake!

Immediately proceeding to the other rooms, you saw a blank expression on the face of the stranger wandering the corridor and realized no one was in the apartment at all. How could it be?

“See, he didn’t return yet.” The man said as you turned to him, perplexed and not really understanding what was happening here. “There was no banging, I didn’t hear anything but you, actually.”

“No, it can’t be.” You put a hand on your forehead, deciding whether you had been hallucinating from the heat or the man was simply lying to you. “I... I’m sure I heard something. Could it be the other neighbor?”

“There are no other neighbors. Just the old man and me.”

___________

You tried forgetting about that night, still shivering from the thought you could easily die if you didn’t wake up. The kettle was destroyed along with your stove, and dad sent you some money to get a new one once he heard you crying over the phone. He promised not to tell about this your mom - she would definitely either faint or have a real heart attack.

The old man came back home a few days later just like Bucky, the guy you met that night, told you. He was perfectly alright, still in his snarky mood though. You decided you really heard that knock in your dream, otherwise the only way to explain what had happened was if thieves got inside old man’s apartment, but it was ridiculous. Bucky’s flat was certainly too far for you to hear the sound so clearly, too.

When you told Alex the story, he took the whole other direction, watching you wide-eyed and telling you it was certainly the spirit of James waking you up and saving you from such stupid death. In the end, that time you had been in the middle of commemorating your dead classmate. He certainly didn’t want you to die the same day as him. Maybe he was even grateful to you for remembering him.

Well, whatever. Despite you actually getting nervous because of Alex’s words, you decided it didn’t matter. You were safe. Now you just had to take care and never drink anything alcoholic at all. And never switch off the lights when your stove was on.

The next week you spent trying to forget about this story, working like a horse and taking extra hours just not to return home to your empty apartment. You were going to spend the weekend at your parents’ place for a change, but on Friday the last minute when you already wanted to depart Alex suddenly showed up at your door with a bottle of vodka, pack of ham and some sliced bread in a plastic packet.

“Are you mad?” You raised your eyebrows at him, angry he brought a bottle when you explicitly told him you weren’t drinking anymore. “What is this?”

“That’s not for you.” Your friend brushed it off as if it didn’t matter. “We have to visit Barnes’ grave.”

“Wait, what?”

“We need to visit his grave.” Alex repeated to you angrily, shoving a pack of ham into your arms. “I talked to the priest, and he said we need to go visit boy’s grave. It’s a must!”

You rolled your eyes at him, not even knowing how to react. Clearly, your friend has lost his mind.

Surprisingly, Alex was so pushy you couldn’t get him out of your place until you agreed to go to the graveyard with him and pay your respect to your classmate. Alex was absolutely sure the boy had saved your life, and it was disrespectful towards him to just leave things as they were. You agreed only because your friend had promised to bring you to your parents with his car.

Once you bought a couple of red carnations, the two of you headed to the graveyard, passing a small church and stopping the car right in front of the large iron gates. Nervously looking at them, you wrapped your coat tighter around your body trembling from cold, glancing at Alex in that stupid fur hat of his.

“Come on, it won’t take long.” He said, catching a sight of you. “I know the place. Let’s just go clean the grave, leave flowers and vodka, and then go. It’s the least we can do.”

Huffing and puffing with irritation, you got up from your seat and left his old car, a pack of ham still in your hands along with carnations. It was ridiculous, but, well, cleaning someone’s grave wasn’t a bad thing, really. You wouldn’t be surprised if James’ parents moved to some other place after that terrible incident, and his grave could be deserted after all these years.

Clenching carnations in your hand, you followed Alex into the gloomy graveyard, looking at old rusted crosses and new shining ones, moss-covered gravestones and a couple of monuments made by some rich citizens for their beloved who had passed away. You didn’t like coming to this place - it felt like it had always been cold here even in the hottest day of the year. Now, in the middle of February, it was freezing.

“Just a few more meters!” The man in front of you said, gesturing somewhere to the left where there were much less graves. “It should be here.”

Furrowing your brows, you kept walking, looking at the grey gravestones and looking for a familiar name. Not this one... not that one either... those two weren’t what you needed...

You bumped into Alex all of a sudden as he froze in place, and you snapped at him, “What the hell man? Why are you standing here?”

But he didn’t reply to you, gesturing somewhere to the right side of the path, and you stilled on your spot, too, looking at the destroyed grave with a broken tombstone laying in the snow. A little iron fence around it was torn apart, and it even looked like someone tried digging the grave. As you got a bit closer, you read “James Buchanan Barnes” on the broken stone and clenched Alex’s hand in yours, afraid to make one more step. God, who did that? What monster could destroy a grave, much less the one of a poor boy who died so young?

It looked so horrible there was no reason to attempt cleaning this mess. This place certainly needed a renovation, but you didn’t even know if you were allowed to do it since you weren’t James’ relative. God, why no one tried doing something with it? Did his parents really leave the town?

“That’s not good.” Alex suddenly said, his face getting extremely pale. “Oh shit, this is not good at all.”

“Of course, it isn’t.” You shook your head, still unable to believe your eyes. “What kind of bastard do you have to be to do that? Let’s go ask a supervisor what has happened here.”

When you found the man cleaning the path on the other side of the graveyard, he told the two of you it was a very odd story when somebody destroyed a boy’s grave, going as far as ruining his tombstone and even digging up the coffin. Well, of course, from time to time some vandals would show up to make a mess, but it had never went further than painting a few tombstones. Besides, only James’ grave had been destroyed, all the ones close to him were left in the same state as before. Why? Why targeting a grave of some poor drowned boy? The supervisor thought someone decided that his parents put something very valuable into the grave, provoking a thief to act, but the strangest thing was that the coffin turned out to be completely empty. The corpse had never been found as if it had never been there at all.

Did they bury an empty coffin? If the body had been destroyed or not found at all, there was nothing odd in that, but the supervisor swore the coffin wasn’t empty when he had been helping bury the boy. It had been such a tragedy when it happened, he said, adding he remembered that day well: the town you lived in was small, and the death of a child was a big thing here.

What happened to James’ body? The supervisor didn’t know. By the end of the story he was talking in a hushed voice. On the other hand, Alex was so pale as if he saw a ghost.

You spent time crossing the graveyard in complete silence as you processed the words of an old supervisor. What a cruel thing it was, to stole a corpse of a 14 year old kid who had done nothing wrong in his entire life. You couldn’t comprehend the reasoning behind this act: what, when the thief found nothing in the coffin he decided to take a corpse and throw some punches at it? God, it was disgusting. You really hoped that person was already in prison.

“Listen, I need to go and see the priest.” Alex mumbled to you in the car, and you realized he was trembling a little as if the thing he saw was too much for him. “That’s a very, very bad thing. I'm not sure Barnes’ soul rests in peace.”

“Alex, please.” You rolled your eyes, eating a piece of ham you were intended to leave on the grave. What, did you friend was really going to talk about ghosts after all he saw? He should have been worried about the thief destroying people’s graves. “You’re too superstitious. Of course, he rests in peace! His grave has nothing to do with it, but we really need to contact the administration, make them repair the place and found the bastard who did this. It’s inhuman to leave it like that.”

“No, no, you don’t understand!” The man on the driver’s seat shook his head disapprovingly. “What if James is still here, unable to continue his path? What if his ghost still wanders this place after all these years? Fuck, he certainly isn’t good anymore.”

“Alex-”

“No, can’t you see? That time when you fell asleep with your stove one... What if he didn’t save you but tried to kill you when you commemorated him that night?”

__________________

Tags: @finleyjayne​ @alexakeyloveloki   @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @iheartsebandchris @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @ninefuckingoneone

[random2908]

What an interesting cultural question. Of course I was invited by my parents to go to the grocery store with them, and I usually opted to go, because I like grocery stores. (Occasionally, when I was really little and couldn't be left alone, I didn't have a choice. But I started being left home alone when I was 8.) Of course I couldn't get there on my own until I was nearly 17 (I put off my driving test for 6 months until my parents forced me) and I moved out of my parents' house when I was 17 1/2.

(Admittedly it was only 1.5 miles to the store (2.4 km), not a bad walk (well, maybe a bad walk carrying a week's worth of groceries for a family of 6) but the store was on a main arterial road and my dad got really nervous if we kids walked along it without adults. Especially since the 1990s was, statistically, the peak of violent crime in the US, and I lived in a dense enough city that the neighborhood changed every 1/2 mile.)

During that 8 month period when I could drive and was still living with my parents? I was sent a couple times. Toward the end of it, some of my classmates were turning 18, meaning they were allowed to have passengers in their cars, so I started occasionally going grocery shopping (as company) with a girl from my study group who did a lot of baking. We had to be careful what time of day we went, though, because there were only certain hours that I, as a 17-year-old, was allowed out in public without my parents in the town where my high school was (there was a pretty draconian curfew for minors). Approximately 3-8 pm, plus an hour around 7 am if I was directly headed to school, and half an hour for lunch around 1 pm.

When I'd occasionally be visiting from college, when I was 18+, I'd sometimes (rarely) be sent for groceries, I guess, if my parents had guests over and couldn't go themselves.

But I'm sure other people's cultural contexts are very different than mine.

im starting to think my experiences may not be as universal as i thought

[unstoppableforcce]

beer pong

—trivia night universe (3)

pairing: Santiago “Pope” Garcia x bartender!reader

part 2 | next part | masterlist

a/n: I really enjoyed writing this moment between the two of them so I hope you enjoy the mix of fun and somewhat serious! there’s no smut in this part but the next idea I have for them is smut related, and if yall have any ideas, feel free to let me know! I love these guys !!

“Now, do you want to do this or do you want to fuck around?”

Santiago Garcia had never been more in love with another person than he had been in that moment. 

He had been dancing around the idea for about a week or two now, but never had such a foreign concept been so clearly illustrated to him before. It caught him every so often, for brief seconds or sometimes minutes, but it didn’t stop him in his tracks until now. 

There had been the morning that you insisted on going with him to the grocery store because he never bought the right kind of apples and danced around him in line humming whatever song had been on the radio while the two of you were in his car. There had been the day that you texted him asking him what his favorite color was then showed up later that night with your nails painted that color. There had been some smaller moments too. When you asked him to put your necklace on for you, when you came up behind him in the kitchen and trailed kisses across his shoulders, when your perfume lingered in his bathroom long after you left for work...

The thought had a firmly secured spot in his mind, but it took you standing across the table from him with a raised brow, quirked hip, and ping pong ball in hand and repeated the question, he knew for sure. 

He was head over heels, breath knocked from his chest, absolutely and indiscriminately in love with you. 

And he was going to kick your ass at beer pong at the same time. 

Frankie couldn’t help but laugh as he walked towards the table and handed Pope a fresh beer. He didn’t say anything aloud, but he could read it on his face. He was smug and Fish only got smug when he was seeing right through him, and just as Santi was sure that he was in love with you, he was also sure that Frankie could see that on his face. 

He caught the ping pong ball you threw at his head and rolled his eyes, “Honey, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I don’t know, you talk a lot of shit Pope, but this is kind of my realm of expertise.” You smirked back, bringing your beer to your lips as Benny joined you by your side with another beer. 

To think you had been so nervous about meeting the guys officially for the first time. He’d told you over an over again that you had nothing to worry about but it wasn’t until the two of you actually arrived at Will’s house and you truly met them. You fell easily into pace alongside them, bouncing back and forth with them like you had known them for years. It was everything Pope knew it would be, and maybe that made him love you a little bit more. 

“Ok, house rules here. Nothing too crazy.” Benny warned carefully as he waved his hands over the table as if he were blessing the triangular assortments of red solo cups. “And normally I’d argue the lady gets to go first but it looks like we’ve got an honest-to-god face off ready here so...”

“Damn straight.” You easily replied, holding the ball up as Santi mirrored your movements. “Give me your eyes, baby.”

“You have them, honey.” 

Frankie and Benny both shared in a whistle, and as Will came outside with a beer of his own and a plate of snacks, he joined in as well. But your stare stayed locked with Santi’s as you both counted off and threw the balls across table to the respective cups. 

Yours sank easily while his swirled around the edge of the corner cup and rolled out, leading to the first round of cheers shared between you and Benny. 

Fish landed a heavy hand on his shoulder and blew out another breath, “this is going to be fun.”

And that was exactly what it was, an extension of what it had been for the first hour of the night, an easy flow of fun times. At least until you guys came down to two cups left on each side. 

“Oh the pressure is building.” Benny mocked as he lowered himself to his knees to put his face behind the cups to distract Frankie as he faked a few tosses before finally throwing and missing by nearly a mile. “Oh! The pressure has claimed another victim.”

“Shut up Benny—” Fish fought but the two of you were laughing too hard as you bent over to grab the ball from the grass. “They are a dangerous duo—“

“You’re telling me.” Santi chuckled, lining up his shot as both you and Benny began to dance behind the cups to distract him. It almost worked too, but at the last second, he found his focus and his skill and nailed the water in the cup effortlessly. “There it is!”

He slammed his hand against Frankie’s in the most intense high five that they had maybe ever shared while you and Benny threw your hands up, exasperated as the cups in front of you now totaled 2-1, not in your favor. 

Passing your ball to Benny, you fished the other ball from the water, dumped the water out, and stacked the cup all before reaching for your own beer and taking a hefty swig. This was it. If there was ever a moment when you needed to call upon the skills you probably should have left behind in college, this was it.

“After you,” Benny gestured with another wave of his arm as you sat your drink down and you gave him a quick reciprocated nod. 

Santi and Frankie began a similar dance to the one that you and Benny had managed, pulling the edges of your straight-lined focused mouth up at the corners even as you fought it. And when Will laughed, the whole group was dancing and laughing, and you couldn’t keep a straight face but you were determined to keep your shot straight. 

“We don’t have all night honey—”

“I’m focusing—”

“Focus faster—”

“Shut your pretty mouth—”

“We’re waiting—”

The toss was perfect, landing in the cup with a satisfying splash and an echoing cheer taking over the rest of the group. “Worth the wait, baby?”

He pulled the ball out with a smile he couldn’t keep down. He tried to smother it with his drink as he flicked the water off the ball but it was no use, the smile was there. The smile was there and it was contagious to the three other men who considered themselves his closest and only friends. 

It was good to see him this happy. Overwhelmingly good to see him this overwhelmingly happy. How could it not make them equally as happy?

Though, Fish wasn’t happy to see his chances to win slipping through his finger tips. 

“Let’s see what you got, Benny.”

“Let’s go.”

“You got this.” 

He turned to you and gave you a solid fist bump, something that had slowly became your ritual the more the two of you played. Then he turned back towards the table and tossed without a practice windup or any hesitation. 

It bounced on the rim. 

Both you and him leaned with it. 

It bounced in. 

The shouting must have annoyed the shit out of Will’s neighbors but none of the five of you seemed to care. You all just burst out in obnoxious cheering, Benny wrapped you up in a quick hug, twirling you around before the two of you descended into laughter, relishing in your victory even more when you saw both Frankie and Santi throw their hands up. 

“Good game,” Frankie easily conceded but Santi just shook his head, reaching for his beer. 

“Great game,” you countered with a fully body chuckle as you grabbed your own drink and walked around the table to wrap your arm around Santi’s waist and steal a quick kiss from his lips. But as he tried to hide his smile still, you quickly broke through when you said, “do I taste like a winner?”

That not only broke his smile from him, but a full body laughter of his own as well as he shook his head and pulled back from you. “You’re breaking my heart, honey.”

“You knew what you were getting yourself into.”

“Nah, I’m calling for a rematch,” he said, turning back to the group and repeating himself, “A rematch, and we’re going to get Will in on this one.”

“He can’t accept a fair, honest game—” Benny shouted as you raised your bottle in agreement. 

“I want a rematch—”

“Sore loser.” You mocked, but another game happened anyways. 

Though, this time, there was much less structure to it. Benny was blowing balls out of the cups as they swirled, Santi was smacking away bounces without second thought, and even Frankie was leaning in from the sidelines to get in the way of shots. But it was fun. More fun than you could remember having in a long time. 

The night calmed down after that; not as high energy but equally as fun once you all moved back inside. 

Benny had a few questions about mixing drinks which ultimately moved all of you into the kitchen with half of Will’s liquor cabinet and refrigerator out on the counter. It was mindless fun for you and they all seemed to be having a good time, but it also meant that by the time you all decided it was a good time to go, you were very, very drunk. 

With your fingers intertwined, the two of you said your goodbyes and walked back out into the nighttime chill, swaying your linked arms between the two of you as you walked down the driveway to where Santi was parked on the street. And again, as you giggled, tripping over yourself slightly, he was reminded again of the fact that was becoming a more and more common fact of life for him. 

He loved you. He was in love with you. He adored every bit of you and, the two of you hadn’t been together for long, but he was sure of it. 

It wasn’t a familiar feeling for him, it wasn’t something he was anyway comfortable with admitting if he was going to be honest, but he was almost a hundred percent positive. 

He loved you. He was in love with you. And he was sure of it. 

“Why so quiet?” You hummed, swinging your linked hands back and forth with more force to attempt to snap him out of his own head as they two of you made it to the curb next to his jeep. 

“I’m not quiet.” He attempted to counter but as he stopped walking and turned to you, he could see the disbelief plainly on your face. 

“You sure you’re okay to drive? I can call a lyft—”

“I’m fine to drive, honey, I had maybe three beers since dinner—”

“Then why so quiet?” You fought, with maybe a bit more drunken determination than you typically had as you tugged on his hand more. “Come on, I thought tonight went well—”

“Tonight went so well, I had an amazing time—”

“Then what’s wrong?”

You sounded sad, he didn’t want you to be sad, there was literally no reason in the whole universe for you to be sad and he hated that you thought that something was wrong but... but he couldn’t get the words out. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t said them before, it was just that he had really never felt comfortable saying them. The few relationships he had where he did say it, they ended shortly after the three little words left his lips, and the last thing he wanted was for that to be the case here. You were the best thing that had ever happened to him and if he went too fast... if he said it before you were ready for it and he messed everything up...

He didn’t want to ruin this. He was terrified, and by the looks of it, so were you and that was his fault. 

Keeping his mouth shut was going to ruin it, telling you was going to ruin it...

“Nothing’s wrong, honey, I swear.” He said easily but as he pulled his keys from his pocket and tried to turn to the door, you kept your hold on his hand and kept him where he stood. 

“Did I do something wrong tonight?”

This was so far from fair to you. You were drunk and he was being evasive, giving you every reason to worry while he was trying to get you not to worry. 

How could a night where everything had gone right so far go south so fast?

If he could just open his goddamn mouth—

“Santi, I don’t understand—” You dropped his hand, bringing both of yours together in front of you, wringing them over each other as his silence held...

And he just couldn’t take it anymore. 

“I love you.”

He swore his heart was going to beat out of his chest, his stomach was filled with nerves he hadn’t felt in years and watching your face was doing nothing to calm him down. Half your face was cast in shadow from the street lights that lined the road, and as his eyes scanned over every inch of you, he still didn’t find anything to go off of in terms of your reaction. You held his stare with the same sad look you had been wearing before he said anything. 

What did that mean?

Was it too early? It had only been a few months, so he couldn’t blame you if you didn’t feel the same especially given how long it took him to open up to you about the littlest of things. He didn’t even know how long he was supposed to wait, was there some sort of timeline that healthy minded adults followed that he was just never told about?

Did he just ruin things? Was he moving too fast—

“Really?”

Really?

What did that mean? Did that mean that he said it too early and you didn’t believe him? Did that mean that you didn’t feel the same? Did that mean he just caught your off guard or did you wish he hadn’t said it? 

He could see what felt like a thousand emotions playing across your face and he didn’t know which meant what—

You lips cut him off before he got too deep into his thoughts. And it wasn’t just the surprise of your lips on his, it was the pure force you put behind it. 

He stumbled back into the side of his truck, catching you with his body as you pressed every inch of yourself into him. Your hands pulled at the sides of his face, tugging on his ears to get yourself even closer as he wrapped his arms around your waist and towards your back, holding you as close as you were holding him as his lips reciprocated the heavy kiss. 

There wasn’t a thought in his mind anymore that wasn’t you. Your intoxicated feet even stepped on his in your overwhelming eagerness, solidly holding every single part of you that you could against him. 

He wasn’t sure what it meant, but there was no way it could be bad news anymore, that he was sure of as your tongue pushed into his mouth and your hands trailed up to his hair, tugging with much more intensity than he was used to. 

But even then, he had to pull back to catch his breath and it was worth checking in with you as he did. With his forehead pressed to yours, his arms cradled around your back, he opened his eyes and found yours waiting there for him. “So...”

Your face twisted into an adorable intoxicated confusion, “So?”

“I just told you I loved you and you kissed me and I don’t know--”

You stole another kiss off his lips easily. “Are you kidding me?”

Was he supposed to know what that meant? Did he know what it meant and his brain just wouldn’t let him think it or was he just too hesitant? How could you kiss him with that kind of passion and still leave him so confused--

“No, I’m not—”

“Santi, I’m so in love with you...” 

Blowing out a breath of relief, he shook his head and pulled your face back towards his, reconnecting your lips and swinging you around to press you into the side of the car while you giggled against his lips. But then he pulled back again, leaving you chasing his lips. 

“What—”

“I have to drive home eventually, we can’t just have sex in Will’s driveway...” He laughed out, bringing his hand to your bare neck and the gold necklace that laid there and tracing it lightly with his calloused fingertips. 

“Why not?” You chuckled back, nudging your nose into his as his laughter melted together with yours, as hot as the sun despite the gentle chill of the night that surrounded the two of you. 

“Because I know he has security cameras and I have a very comfortable bed at home...” He countered, taking his keys back into his hand, unlocking the car, and opening the passenger door for you. 

“Fair point...” 

As he led you into your seat, he moved to turn away but you caught him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him back in for one last kiss. 

One last kiss he couldn’t pull away from. 

He didn’t know what was different about it from all the others, he definitely didn’t know why it stood out from the kissing session that had just concluded, but he knew that he could feel it was different. And you felt it too, because you lingered the same way, leaning out of the car to hold onto him, still by the collar. 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me...” He sighed out against your lips, the words falling much easier now than they had around the three little words. 

He didn’t know if it was just the words of ‘I love you’ or just his own fears or his comfort now... He didn’t know what it was, but the words fell like dripping honey from his lips. 

“I don’t know, you’ve got three pretty good things in the form of your best friends who we just left inside and—”

“And they’re the best and I’d put my life on the line for them, I have before, but I’m not in love with any of them.” He continued easily, stealing one last kiss before shutting the passenger door and walking around to the driver’s side with a smirk he was never going to lose. 

Not as long as he was with you. 

And he was hoping that was going to be for as long as he lived. 

He got back into the car next to you and found you staring at him wide-eyed and surprised but his smirk didn’t leave his lips and he easily started the car. 

“Santi—”

“Now that I’ve said it, I’m going to be saying it all the time, I just want you to know that.”

Your slightly drunken brain had cleared up enough to leave you happy and sober. Your head finally caught with you and a smirk the same size as his grew on your lips. “Good.”

“It might even get annoying—”

“Do you worst.”

Yeah. He loved you. 

--

tags: (these are tags from teh first part, let me know if you’d like to be added or removed) @mandoplease​ @spider-starry​ @shakespeareanwannabe​ @mylifeliterally​ @this-cat-is-dea​ @woakiees​ @imananxiousdriver​