#but it is still a carrot cake i guess so whatever

[ppulverse]

making a cake for the first time in like 5 years please pray for me

[solvisun]

120924 ✦ GET CLOSER (TO ME)

haikyuu 𝜗𝜚 tsukishima kei x reader

it’s not about meeting finals when you’ve aced it now, when he’s sure your friendship will slowly erode in the waves of time—it’s not about meeting expectations but meeting you in places where it’s still special. where there’s a world of only just you and him.

notes 𝜗𝜚 soft!kei makes me feel things. fluff. 2.6k wc. not proofread. i want to expand on this in the future.

it was only ever about meeting finals at the finish line with you. nothing more.

tutor turned (tentative) friend, tsukishima is sitting across from you in the back corner of a cafe you had suggested. one he sees in passing but isn’t intrigued enough to go inside.

similarly, that’s how he thinks of you. just a classmate catalogued in his brain for months. nameless. you’re “the person who laughs too loudly across the room” or “the one who greets everyone like they’re old friends.” but you never paid him much attention, so he didn’t pay you much, either.

but then finals season rolled around, and you—of all people—asked him for help. out of all your friends, who you’d waved off with polite but dismissive smiles, you came to him.

your tone had been formal, but it’s easy to conclude that you’re desperate still.

when he said no at first, out of pure instinct, you added, “i’ll treat you to whatever you like.”

he raised an eyebrow. “you sure about that?”

“yeah. i know a place,” you’d replied, flashing a smile that felt oddly personal.

and so, he winds up here. gets lost immediately as soon as you flood him with your rambling, something about a game. something about the stardusts collecting your eyes, entranced on how you can love something with all that you’ve held.

he snaps out of it, swatting at you with a rolled-up notebook. “if you don’t focus, you’re definitely failing.”

“hey!” you protest, rubbing your arm where the notebook hit. “do you think i’ll actually pass, though?”

you give him a look, your eyes wide with tentative hope, like you’re not sure if you should believe him.

he sighs, setting the notebook down. “only if you shut up and let me explain this part.”

the grin that makes way through your lips is one he must avoid. it’s sweet and it’s cute and he bites back the strange irritation bubbling up in his chest.

it’s kind of unsettling how this routine has woven itself into your schedules. after months of only scraping the edges of each other’s worlds, he’s somehow found himself standing at the front arch of your life, waiting for permission to step inside.

at first, it was just an hour on weekends. but after a week, it became two hours, then three. from calculus or japanese lit to you also teaching him english because apparently you ate a large encyclopedic dictionary when you were 10.

one day, he even treated you instead of the other way around, mumbling something about “returning the favor.” though he is still too stingy if his order gets too long and still too technical when he breaks the lessons down to the simplest of concepts.

“why’d you ask me to tutor you, anyway?” he asks out of the blue.

you freeze, caught mid-bite of your carrot cake. “oh.” you’d expected this question eventually, but not like this—casual, almost offhand, yet entirely without judgment.

“uhm, i guess…” hesitant, you set your fork down. “i wanted to get to know you better.”

you see it, the imperceptible furrow of his brows.

“but i do need your help,” you added quickly, your tone softening as you shifted in your seat, the amber light of the cafe easing itself on the comforts of your skin. “it wasn’t just some excuse, if that’s what you’re thinking. you’re smart, and i figured… if anyone could help me, it’d be you.”

you held his gaze steady, golden brown meeting at the center of where you both stood in both worlds. he is already inside. he is already in motion.

“and being friends is nice, too,” you added with a small, sheepish smile.

he let out a something that’s between a scoff and a short chuckle, shaking his head.

“unbelievable.”

“yeah? you don’t mind though.” you shot back, grinning

he didn’t dignify that with a response, but the faint flush on his cheeks gave him away.

three weekends. two separate walks become one (two for tsukishima still, one to walk you home, one to retrace his steps back to his own). july saunters in and yamaguchi comes to adore you from the way you influenced him to try obscure games you’re always up to.

after practice, a shadow greets him near the gym’s exit—you, waiting. three joined walks divide unevenly when tsukishima follows your route instead of his. yamaguchi always gives you a weird smile in secret.

when you ace your finals, he convinces himself it’s over. your friendship will erode, fading into the waves of time now that your goal has been met. august quickly fades with you, your absence hits like an unexpected, quiet loss.

and on the start of second semester, somehow he does things that go against reason. he tries to finish his lunch with you, always sitting just close enough to grumble if you poke at him. he starts buying you water, a habit he brushes off with a clipped, "just don’t collapse on me." because you have the habit of forgetting to bring your own. he even calls you in the mornings, his voice drowsy but still sharp as he teases, "fix your sleep schedule already; the bags under your eyes are haunting—wake up, we have a physics quiz to refresh on.”

he still tutors you when he can, but the more he stays, the more unproductive things get. you’ve started asking about things unrelated to the lesson, distracting him with snippets of trivia or questions about his interests. at first, he’d snap back with his usual sarcasm, telling you to focus, but more often than not, he’d end up indulging you.

“how do you even know all this useless stuff?” he mutters one day, not unkindly.

“i told you,” you grin, “encyclopedic dictionary at age ten. it was delicious.”

he shakes his head, hiding the small twitch of his lips behind his hand. the next time you bring up some obscure fact, he doesn’t stop you.

and the worst part? he’s not even pissed about not getting a full score on that physics quiz.

he still walks you home, manages to picture you while you loyally admire the sunset (no, there is no camera with him, only in his eyes, he will picture you like this until it bleeds through his consciousness).

there are also those quick detours to the konbini. he treats you with cool nonchalance, like it’s breathing, and you don’t comment on how natural it’s become. he writes notes for you when you’re sick or when you miss class, the handwriting neater than usual as though he’s put more thought into it. he even visits you once, scolding you for not taking care of yourself properly but staying longer than yamaguchi or the freak duo, who’d spent most of their time bickering instead of talking with you.

he lets you sling your arm through his as you move through a crowded hallway, muttering something about “not wanting another problem in his life” if you get lost. it’s a weak excuse, but you’re careful not to tease him too much.

all these things are better left unnoticed, better left to not be questioned. still, it leaves you wondering. there is something comforting in the way he stays that it feels almost fragile to touch. one misstep might shatter whatever has been quietly building between you. so you don’t call him out. you don’t linger by the threshold and ask if you can be selfish. you know you can’t.

what you don’t tell him is this. while your phone is full of different kind of sunsets, your favourites are always on the moon. he’ll probably say something like, that’s so fucking cheesy and just dismiss it as another weird habit of yours for being poetic. but you do like the moon. always.

you do like it when he asks what you listen to as you share the half of your earbud, you do like it when he corrects your mistakes on worksheets, you do find his hair soft even just by glancing when yamaguchi eggs you on. you do like the things he does for you, more than you let on, actually.

so despite your efforts, you still find yourself reaching for him in places where it’s special. where it matters, moments of just you and him.

autumn feels like honey, hits your chest slow and achingly sweet. “why do you do all this?” you ask softly, your steps slowing until you’re almost at a standstill. “for me, i mean.”

he stops, turning to face you. the fading sunlight casts a warm glow on his face, and for a moment, he doesn’t answer.

with a slight shrug, he says, “does it matter?”

you frown, words pulling and pushing itself between your teeth. “it does to me.”

tsukishima kei is anything but direct. you’re so tempted to call him by his first name, thought of how it would sound like on your tongue. it’s making the autumn breeze feel more chilly, fingertips frigid and palm starts to sweat.

then, he mumbles, so infuriatingly quiet you almost didn’t hear it. “…i don’t want you passing by my life again.”

it’s a vague, almost evasive response, but there’s something in his tone that makes your head irrevocably altered. air suspended on your lungs. he resumes walking ahead, and you follow. soft crunches of leaves under your foot is the only thing filling the silence.

later that night, as you’re going over the notes he’d written for you, you find a small doodle in the corner of one of the pages. it’s simple, just a stick figure with glasses and a speech bubble saying, “don’t fail.” you laugh, faint and private and uncontrolled.

you wonder if he knows just how much this miniscule, unexpected act has already stitched its way into your heart. how much you admire the moon since the first day. how cheesy and hopeless you really are.

winter feels like lace and soft breaths. you feel it’s fragility in every flow of warmth, a little unstable, and far too beautiful to let go of.

the air bites at your skin, your breath fogging in short puffs as you wait outside the gym. you stomp your feet to keep the blood flowing, checking your phone for what feels like the hundredth time.

the doors finally creak open, and tsukishima steps out, slinging his bag over his shoulder. his hair is slightly damp from practice, and there’s a layer of frost in his glare when he sees you.

there’s also the pink flush in the tip of his ears. the ease in which he slides beside you as you walk together.

you admit that, wow, he really is beautiful.

he sighs, his breath misting in the air. “where’s your scarf? it’s freezing.”

“yes i know i will freeze to death. yes we are wasting time. yes and let’s go."

he shakes his head, muttering something under his breath before unwinding the scarf from around his neck. before you can protest, he steps close, wrapping it around you. his fingers brush against your skin as he adjusts it, the warmth of the scarf—and his touch—makes you freeze for a different reason.

“there,” he says gruffly. “now you won’t whine about how cold it is.”

you blink up at him, stunned. “what about you?”

“i’ll live,” he says, avoiding your gaze. “come on.”

the walk home is quiet at first, the snow crunching underfoot. you’re hyperaware of his presence beside you, the warmth of the scarf around your neck, the faint scent of him clinging to the fabric.

the snow continues to fall, catching in your hair and on your lashes. you glance at tsukishima again—he’s quiet, well, he’s always been (when you’re not letting him pick you apart), but there’s a thought that’s sandwiched between the spaces when he drifts off from afar. something that’s hard not to ask what he’s thinking.

the scarf around your neck feels too warm now, your pulse thudding every time you catch the faint scent of him clinging to it. you’re not sure if it’s the cold or the weight of his presence, but something’s making you dizzy.

“stop staring,” he mutters, not even looking at you.

you flinch, heat rushing to your cheeks. “i wasn’t.”

his gaze slides to you, skeptical. “sure.”

you bite your lip, trying to suppress your embarrassment. but then he stops walking, and you almost stumble in the sudden stillness.

“what?” you ask, your breath misting in short puffs.

he doesn’t answer right away, just turns to face you fully. his hands are still stuffed in his pockets, but there’s an uncharacteristic hesitation in his expression, like he’s teetering on the edge of something.

“you’ve got snow,” he says finally, gesturing vaguely to your hair.

“oh.” you reach up, brushing at it awkwardly. “did i get it?”

“no.” he steps closer, the world narrowing to the space between you. his hand emerges from his pocket, brushing lightly over your hair, fingertips cold but delicate against your skin.

you freeze, your breath hitching, the scarf suddenly feeling too tight around your neck.

“there,” he says softly, his hand lingering for just a second too long before dropping back to his side. but he doesn’t step back.

instead, his eyes dart down to your lips, then away, his throat bobbing as he swallows. you see it—how his fingers twitch like he wants to move, but he’s hesitating, unsure.

“tsukishi—”

“i’m gonna do something stupid,” he blurts, cutting you off.

before you can ask, he leans in, awkward and hesitant, like he’s not entirely sure of himself. his lips brush yours—soft, tentative, and just a little clumsy. it’s not perfect; you can feel the nervous edge to it, the way his nose bumps yours slightly, but it’s him, the moon favorite in many sun soaked worlds, the paragon of adoration and heartaches. and it’s enough to make your heart stutter.

he pulls back almost immediately, his face beet-red, his eyes darting anywhere but you. “that was—whatever. forget it.”

but you’re staring at him, breathless, the warmth of his lips lingering like a brand. “kei,” you say, veins buzzing and head exploding.

“don’t,” he warns, his voice uneven, he can’t even fully register that you called him by his first name. “don’t say anything.”

but you just smile, giggling as you tug gently at the scarf he gave you. “you’re so bad at this.”

“shut up,” he mutters, but there’s no bite in his voice, only the faintest hint of a smile ghosting over his lips.

when all’s been said and done. you can only look at him. he can only look at you. the silence between you feels full, brimming with all the things neither of you says, yet understands. winter may feel fragile, but as he cups your face on both his hands, chastely kisses your forehead in finality. you realize some things are worth the risk of breaking.

and this? this is one of them.

"...you called me kei."

"late reaction, kei."

"i'm going to kiss you again."

"okay, kei."

© SOLVISUN 2024 | thank you for reading <3!

[softlypaintedseafoam]

🍓ー thank you for your patronage at the strawberry witch's bakery! here's your order!

requested by: a lovely anon! 🍓 -> luffy + strawberry milk (i love you)

"Tired," you question for the sake of conversation.

Your lips quirk into a smile when Luffy makes a grunt of agreement in reply. 'Tired' is an understatement. It's no overestimation to say the lot of you are exhausted; Whole Cake Island, Big Mom and her vast array of children just barely behind you.

'Exhausted' is best word to describe the feeling of those present on the ship. It's barely the morning but it still feels like you all should be asleep. It would have been nice if the night could have lasted a little longer. You release an audible sigh, at peace. Even with your exhaustion, you're at peace.

Sanji has returned and even with the crew separated ー miles and miles of sea in between ー it feels as all is once again right in the world. Sans the oddity in part of your crew missing, it's like nothing has changed.

Nami draws her maps, plotting calculated yet safe courses for the crew's trip.

Chopper replenishes his supply of medical goods.

Sanji cooks up a storm of seasonings and aromatic fragrances.

Even Carrot's laments that Brook's bones are too hard to garchu properly has become part of your normal. It's nice to see the rabbit mink in better spirits, all the events that transpired at Whole Cake Island considered.

What's important is that you're all alive.

A lot has been gained, a lot has been lost.

Who knew where Jinbei was. Was he already trailing the Sunny to Wano or was he still within the confines of Big Mom's sea? Your guess is as good as anyone else's. You choose to trust in his promise to Luffy regardless.

Looking at the captain in question, your lap as his pillow, you don't fight the affection bubbling beneath your skin. He's battered, bruised but he's alive and he's yours. In the rare moments Luffy is quiet and not bouncing off the walls, it's almost as if he is in a state of meditation. Pondering things, worlds, you're not sure you entirely comprehend.

"You should get some sleep if you're tired," you murmur, lips brushing against his forehead. Whatever he is thinking, you treasure the moments when Luffy simply wants to be alone together even if not many words are exchanged between you.

"I'm not that kind of tired," Luffy protests softly, brow furrowing. Eyes a brown so dark they may as well be black give you a look too stern for the situation.

"Yeah, yeah," you card your fingers through messy black hair, with a chuckle. You remember distinctly thinking two years ago that his hair must be softer than it looks. You're pleased to tell your younger self that their assumption was correct. Luffy's hair is a texture softer than soft. "My mistake, Captain," your tone has a playful lilt to it, nothing a fraction close to serious. "I don't doubt you at all."

Luffy beams, eyes crinkling at the corners and his smile brighter than the sun. "Good!"He nods with his exclamation. "I love you," light as his tone is, the words he says are never meant lightly. He says it blithely, joyously, like freedom itself has finally been gifted upon humanity. His words are a treasure.

Your index finger and thumb glide continuously over a particular strand of Luffy's hair, a grounding sensation. You have to or you'll float far, far away from the Sunny and back into the realm of the sky islands. I don't think you'd let me, though. It's too easy imagining a stretchy, rubbery arm latching around you after looping your waste ten times over. Wherever you go, Luffy is sure to follow not far behind. "Love you too," you kiss his forehead again.

[aquaquadrant]

I’m in LOVE with your Hels to pay au!! Thank you so much for writing it!!

Has anyone ever asked Tango about his cuffs? Has anyone offered/tried to help him get them off? I imagine it would either be a funny montage of increasingly wild attempts OR just absolutely heartbreaking.

(sooo funny story, i saved the first ask in january bc i wanted to write smth for it… but then the second one came in before i got around to it… then the third… so uh. yeah. here ya go.)

~*~

“i like your cuffs, by the way.”

tango freezes, and even though xisuma has only just met the guy, he can immediately tell something’s off.

hermitcraft’s newest member is far from ordinary; a blaze hybrid with sharp teeth and blackened claws, red eyes that dart around nervously and squint at the sun, like it’s too bright. he didn’t even seem to know what a golden carrot was, when xisuma gave one to him.

the shackles around his wrists are just the frosting on the cake. xisuma had assumed it was part of his, er… unconventional style. but tango’s reaction- and the small links of broken chain still dangling from the cuffs- make xisuma wonder.

“what… uh, what do you mean?” tango asks, his tone forcibly light. oh, he’s anxious- ears flat, shoulders hunched likes he’s expecting an attack.

xisuma shrugs. “your cuffs, they’re just really metal,” he says casually. “it’s a cool look, is all.”

“oh.” tango blinks. the relief is evident in his expression, but he only relaxes slightly. “oh, right! thanks.”

while xisuma hasn’t been the admin of hermitcraft for very long, he’s been around long enough to tell when a player is running from something. but that’s none of his business. that’s why they come here, isn’t it?

“anyway,” xisuma says, “that’s about the end of the tour.” he lifts a hand to put on tango’s shoulder, then thinks better of it, folding his arms instead. “you just lemme know if you need anythin’, alright? anythin’ at all.”

“right, yeah.” tango smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “thanks, i’ll- i’ll keep that in mind, yeah.”

~*~

“jeeze, you ever take those cuffs off?”

tango freezes, and even though impulse is still relatively new here on hermitcraft, he can immediately tell he’s crossed a line.

it’s only been a couple weeks since a random portal abruptly appeared in front of impulse, taking him to a world called hermitcraft. according to his fellow hermits, that amounted to an invitation from the universe- which is how they all join.

he’s spent most of his time working on a quadruple witch hut farm with some of the other redstoners, and tango’s been a bit of a puzzle. he’ll be standoffish or even outright defensive at times, but then seem inexplicably drawn towards impulse, asking strange and not-so-subtle probing questions. of course, whenever impulse tries to address this, tango brushes him off.

“oh, these old things?” tango says after a moment, his brief panic quickly swept under the rug as he flaunts his cuffs. “why, do you- am i not pulling them off? too much?”

“no, no, they’re cool!” impulse assures him. “it’s just, don’t they get in the way when you’re doing delicate redstone work? seems like a bother, that’s all.”

tango huffs a laugh, but he’s also eyeing the nearest exit. “nah, man, th- it’s part of my look! my uh, my brand, as some might say. can’t go without ‘em, you know how it is…”

that’s not the reason. impulse can tell. but whatever the real reason is, it’s not his place to push tango to talk about it. they’re still getting to know each other, so if it’s anything more than a simple fashion choice, impulse is sure he’ll find out sooner or later.

“ooh, okay, gotcha.” impulse nods sagely. “branding, very important. well, if you ever change your mind, i’d be happy to take them off your hands- uh, literally and figuratively, i guess,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “cuffs are pretty ‘in’ for demons, you know.”

tango laughs too, though he’s already turning away, back to his work. “right, yeah, i- i’ll keep that in mind.”

~*~

“can you actually not take these cuffs off?”

tango freezes, and even without the spike of panic through their soulbond, jimmy can immediately tell he’s said something wrong.

it’s been about a month since the double lifers voted to end the death game. one month since jimmy and tango made their relationship official. and as amazing and wonderful as it’s been living on the ranch, jimmy’s starting to get the sense there are a few things he doesn’t know about tango.

he hadn’t meant anything by the question- just genuine curiosity. they were kissing, tango’s hands cupping jimmy’s face, and when he’d reached up to cover tango’s hands with his own he’d felt the cool metal of the cuffs, and the question just blurted out from his mind. gosh, he really does ruin everything.

tango recovers quickly. “whaaat, you don’t like ‘em?” he grins, casually stretching his arms above his head so the cuffs jangle around his wrists.

jimmy hesitates. the panic he felt through their bond has faded, but that doesn’t mean it’s not still there “well, sure, it’s just- y’know, i realized i’ve never seen you take ‘em off.”

tango blinks. “you- what, don’t you think if i wanted to take them off, i would’ve?” he laughs, putting his hands on his hips. “i mean, it’s not- we have metal-cutting technology, you know.”

oh, duh. jimmy feels silly. tango is far from helpless- if those cuffs hadn’t been a conscious decision, he surely would’ve figured out how to take them off by now. or, jeeze, he could’ve asked anyone on his server full of technical geniuses to help out.

“right, right, of course,” he says sheepishly. “sorry, i wasn’t- i do like how they look, i- i was just wonderin’. but uh, you know, if you ever did wanna take ‘em off… i mean, i’d still like you plenty without them,” he jokes.

“you’re good, you’re good,” tango hums, draping his arms around jimmy’s shoulders. “i’ll keep that in mind.”

~*~

tango sits alone in his room, claws curled around the cuff of his other hand.

it’s just simple iron. it wouldn’t be hard. all he has to do is reach for his inner fire, concentrate, and let the metal soften in his grasp. even if he heats it too much- so that molten iron drips over his skin like water- he’s a bit more fire resistant than the average player, he’d be fine. it’d only take a couple seconds for each one, and then he’d be free of them. forever.

it’s been nearly ten years, for hel’s sake. he’s lost count of how many times he’s been in this exact situation before, wanting and willing so much but being unable to bring the flames to his fingertips. if he even thinks about it, it’s suddenly like he’s back in the farm, icy wither rose numbing his veins, a haunting voice ringing in his ears.

‘just the cuffs on his wrists there, and he stays put like the good creature he is.’

tango wants to be good. he’s been trying so hard to be good. but what if he can’t trust himself? what if the only thing stopping him from reverting back to his old ways is the illusion of control maintained by these shackles?

who is he without them? would he be someone that his friends still cared about? would jimmy?

he’s too afraid to find out.

tango lets go of the cuff, the familiar weight of metal dropping back onto his wrist. he can try again another time. so long as he has his fire, he still has the option. he’ll do it someday.

so for now, the thought retreats to its little shadowed corner in the back of his mind, safe for another day.

~*~

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I asked my mom to stop keto-fying recipes?

this is either gonna be a complete non-issue or get people mad at me, i can tell lmao. unfortunately this has been bugging me for weeks. :D

To be clear, I'm almost 25, but I and my adult/teenage siblings still live with my parents bc the economy is ass. Also, Mom hasn't been doing it to every recipe…yet…but the ones she has changed have been recipes where a carbohydrate is an important part of the main meal.

For instance, replacing the potatos in a beef-carrot-potato stew with a rutabaga.

Mom's been on a modified keto diet for a while now, and while Dad is the only one intentionally doing it with her, the rest of us are aware of her diet and are generally chill about it. For a while, we would have nights where the parents would have Thing A, which was diet-compliant, and the rest of us would have Thing B, which was not. Those of us who are not dieting are all old enough to make things for ourselves, by the way, and that's usually what happens. For most of these "split meals," one parent usually doesn't wind up cooking two meals, one of which they can't even eat.

The stew is usually a "split" meal that gets made by one person who does most of the prep just by virtue of knowing the recipe, then one person who peels and chops the potatoes, and then one who wrangles the peeling and chopping of the rutabaga. The rutabaga then gets combined with a proportionate amount of The Rest, and those of us who aren't dieting are welcome to taste-test it. I've tried it, and the rutabaga's okay, I guess, but quite a bit too sweet and non-safe-food-y for me in the context of the stew, especially when I'm so used to potatoes. Wrangling the rutabaga is a bit more fun than eating it.

…except the most recent time we had the stew, Mom and Dad made an executive decision and just made a full-family pot of rutabaga stew without really seeing if everyone else was on board with it. Two of my siblings seemed fine with it, one is an enigma on a good day so I don't even know how they felt about it, and I hated it. I didn't get the chance to say so, however, between everyone else complimenting the altered stew and the conversation quickly switching to something else.

Unfortunately, our parents have decided that we will be making the stew with rutabagas only going forward.

Not "the family has decided."

The parents have decided. For adults and a teenager. Not for little kids.

Since then, in other conversations where recipes come up, such as conversations about the teenager's recent baking kick, Mom has been mentioning keto versions of whatever's being talked about in the nonspecific way that I'm pretty sure is her hinting/telling us that we should make it. In the context of teen baking, a keto chocolate cake, or keto cookies.

Look, I'm not here to debate the worth of a diet or lack thereof. I have plenty of those opinions and I'm not going to change them or let them distract from the core of the matter: when any of us are making food for the others, why are we letting two people's diets dictate what the rest of us should eat? If we're making something specifically to align with the keto diet, then that's a parent snack/meal. If we're not, it's a "kids" snack/meal. It should be as simple as that. Why make a full-family-sized meal if it's going to be pushing low/no carbs onto people who, historically, have not wanted to or needed to drop carbs? (It's me, I'm people. I know, I'm not really subtle, am I?)

I'm considering, the next time the stew comes up as a dinner plan, asking what a single-sized portion of the potatoes would be and just making it for myself. Given I have the spoons to do so that night, anyway. However, I really don't want to insult Mom's family recipe (which…she's already altered…and I would be reverting to its previous state…) or her cooking skills (which haven't lessened, even if I personally think her ingredient choices are a bit lacking lately).

What are these acronyms?

[miss-tc-nova]

S/O with Sleep Apnea - Trey, Jack, Jamil, Lilia

Okay, so remember THIS? Well someone (@kimdourden) wanted that with Jack and Jamil.

So I almost had that done when someone else (@delsierose) added Trey and Lilia!

So here we are. Sorry this took so long. Trey and Lilia are not my regulars, but working with them was a fun change of pace. PS, still not all that confident with my understanding of sleep apnea and its treatment.

Premise: The boys find out their s/o has sleep apnea

Words:

Trey: 603

Jack: 623

Jamil: 715

Lilia: 747

~~~~~

Trey

Trey accepts your snoring. It’s really a non-issue for him. Sometimes people are restless at night and that’s just how it is. And sure, you can be a moody at times, but he knows first hand that you didn’t get enough sleep.

Except he didn’t expect you to have sleep apnea.

The night is particularly rough as you toss and turn. Poor Trey sits up, a bit concerned by the excessive fidgeting. Sleepy Boi murmurs your name, asking if you’re okay but when he gets no response, he reaches over you for his glasses and the lamp. At last, you hold still but something’s off. He studies you, nearly ready to let it go, until it hits him. It’s silent. You’ve stopped snoring—and breathing. Louder, Trey speaks your name, pulling you up by the arm. This new position clears up your airways. So now leaning against your boyfriend, your snoring once again fills the air.

Perturbed, Trey readjusts and lies down, holding you against his chest. The image of you perfectly still replays in his head for maybe two hours before he falls asleep again.

Trey immediately clocks that you have sleep apnea after that. Someone in his family has it too so he sends a few messages to enquire about treatment alongside some personal research. Knowing you and your habits, the task seems somewhat daunting. Still, he’s not thrilled with what happened and knows it’s detrimental to your health, so he’s going to talk to you about it. The two of you discuss everything from surgery, medical devices, and home treatments. Whatever you decide, there are going to be some lifestyle changes.

He lays down the law—or tires to—about your afternoon snacking habits. However, Trey prefers to use the carrot rather than the stick. You’re rewarded for your craving restraint with…well, sweets. Sometimes. Trey’s reward is his baking. This could be puff pastries for breakfast or cinnamon rolls for desert after lunch. Whatever he’s making, surely it’s better than a store-bought snack after dinner.

This also means that Trey has to either convince Riddle to serve non-caffeinated tea at their parties, or he has to sneak around—which he would loathe, but do anyway.

In addition to bribery, Trey does his best to encourage you to stay awake and avoid naps. For the most part, he tries to get you up and moving, helping him with club activities, food prep, or painting roses. In the event that there actually isn’t something productive to do, well, guess he’s just going to have to kiss you.

Ultimately, Trey isn’t very forceful or mean about his attempts to alter your routines. He actively works with you and encourages you as best he can to change things for the better. It’s not the fastest way. Despite the rewards, it probably takes you several months to actually stick to the routine and start feeling any better. But you inevitably do. Your mood stabilizes as does your sleep schedule. Trey’s particularly happy that you’re reliably getting a full night’s sleep, comfortably wrapped in his arms.

“There you are. Do you want to come help me make the pies for the unbirthday party today. Come on, I’m afraid you might fall asleep otherwise. If you help, I’ll let you decide what we make next. Sure, if that’s what you want. Yes, you can lick the spoon, but only after we’re done. Seven help us if Riddle finds out I served bundt cake with your germs in it. No, I would prefer you didn’t. Okay, because it’s only noon, I’ll set some aside for you. Sound good?”

Jack

Jack doesn’t care that you’re a rough sleeper. Big Boi has siblings that he’s fairly close to, so nighttime fidgeting and snoring is no problem.

The Field and Track team has a competition one day that doesn’t return until late. Yet even as he opens his bedroom door, he’s not surprised to find you there, fast asleep. Finnicky about his own schedule, Jack hastily gets ready for bed, but just before he joins you, he stops. The room is too quiet. His gaze snaps to you, no movement to be seen. Your name on his lips and a firm shake of your shoulder jars your brain into correcting your airways. And the snoring resumes.

Offput by the event, but without answers, Jack climbs into bed, dragging you into his arms in the hopes that he would wake should another incident occur.

This is how Jack finds out you have sleep apnea.

A quick look with his phone tells him all he needs to know and, predictably, the wolf huffs about the challenges ahead of him. Exercise would fix 90% of your problems. Right?

Jack makes a deal with Sam to order two mouth splints in exchange for helping unload the latest delivery of goods. He’s already had to help other students fit theirs, so he’s got yours done pretty soon. Except only one is for sleeping.

Because Jack has little awareness for easing into things, you’re up at 6 AM the very. Next. Day. Not only that, but he has you joining SpellDrive practice with his dorm that morning too. He’s pretty intense about you going all out.

On top of that, you’re not allowed to nap. At all. Jack will wake you up on sight and have you do something with him. If you have nothing to do, now you’re running laps. So, by the time your new bedtime rolls around, you pass out.

After just a few days, everything is worse. You’re more exhausted, the apnea might be worse, and you inevitably snap back at Jack trying to push you to move more. Initially, he retaliates in kind and the two of you have get away from each other to cool off. You, of course, recognize you’re miserable, but Jack also comes to realize this too. He went zero to hundred too fast.

There’s a makeup after which Jack reins in his “help.” You may not wake up at 6 anymore, but he still wants you to come to the dorm’s morning SpellDrive practice. He doesn’t push as hard, but he may reward you if you’re at least walking laps as the dorm plays. But no, there’s still no naps. You still have to do things with him, but think less workout and more makeout.

Of course, at the end of the day, Jack will cuddle and snuggle like nobody’s watching. Because nobody is. He makes certain your comfortable sleeping on your side and that you’ve got your splint. It doesn’t usually take long for you to go to sleep anymore.

Honestly, you probably still hate it. Only Jack really seems to enjoy working out, but you can’t really deny this new routine is helping. With a more stable sleeping pattern, your daily exhaustion is nearly extinct. And the increase in activity is healthy for you in all the ways you hate to admit. Still, only Jack could get you to fix your problems with exercise. Sucker.

“Hey, you’re not nappin’ are you? Good. Don’t gimme that look. You know it’s bad for you. Well if you want something to do, we could go for a walk around the school again. What? Then what do you want me to do? Oh yeah? And how do you expect me to do that? Huh? I’m not blushing! My tail’s not wagging either! Forget it. Take your stupid nap. Grr, fine. C’mere.”

Jamil

Jamil is always prepared. His room was prepared for any issue the first time you shared the bed with him. So to only have to put up with a bit of snoring came as a pleasant surprise. That, he could deal with.

But he wasn’t prepared for sleep apnea.

Kalim wants a party because, of course he does. So Jamil is left to prep the decorations, prep the food, prep everything late into the night. You offered to help, but Jamil could see that you were struggling that day and sent you to bed. And by the time the retainer finally makes it to back to his room, it’s no surprise that you’re already fast asleep. Dead on his feet, Jamil gets ready for bed. A shiver runs down his spine, noting how eerily quiet his room is. His eyes scan the room, eventually falling across your motionless form. The realization hits, causing Jamil to lunge onto the bed, prepared to administer CPR. But the shaking of the bed has you grumbling and rolling over, breathing perfectly fine, snoring and all.

Jamil doesn’t sleep. His paranoid brain won’t let him, forcing him to compulsively search the internet for answers that he quickly finds. The rest of the night is spent researching countermeasures because that brief moment where he thought you were gone will haunt him for years to come.

The next day really sucks for Jamil, but he’s too preoccupied with his anxiety set to overdrive. He’s still attending to his duties to watch over Kalim, but now his brain is formulating a plan to alter your routines, which he so badly wants to implement right this moment. However, Jamil knows that people don’t typically change at the drop of a hat.

So changes begin slowly. He slowly begins weaning your sugar and caffeine addiction with healthier, equally-delicious options that won’t have you wired by the time bedtime comes around. His knowledge of your likes and dislikes makes this an easy task.

He begins keeping track of your sleeping habits, naps included. Your wake-up time slowly gets earlier and earlier and the length of your naps grows shorter until they become non-existent. Bedtime also shifts but Jamil has craftily created a winddown routine, and you’re not his only target.

About an hour before bed, Jamil’s phone, your phone, and Kalim’s phone get the same notification. At that time, only Jamil is allowed to access his phone, but only to monitor the following events, and set the music. The three of you have a stretching regimen to loosen up and relax. After, everyone washes up. Jamil makes a warm, non-caffeinated drink for you to sip while you three make a to-do list for the next day. Once that’s sorted out, Jamil sends Kalim off to bed and whisks you away to his room. Together, you prepare for the following morning: picking outfits, packing school bags, tidying the room, etc. By the time you brush your teeth, you’re very much ready for bed—just as you’ve been conditioned to be.

Jamil would be the one to recommend surgery. It’s up to you whether you do it or not, but he does express that it would make him feel better. And that he would absolutely take care of you if you did go through with it. Will guilt you about your naps and poor eating habits with it. “If you want your caffeine back, you better get that surgery” or “A nap sounds good right about now. Too bad you have sleep apnea.” It’s actually light hearted teasing, but also, he means it.

Whether you get the surgery or not, your symptoms do get better. Jamil’s always going to be somewhat paranoid that another incident will occur, but when he sleeps with his arms wrapped around you, he manages to convince himself it’ll be alright.

“Have you finished packing your bag for tomorrow? What about your potions book. Alright, I’m just checking. Would hate for you to have to run across campus between classes because you forgot it. Again. What? It’s not my fault you’ve got a fuzzy memory. Maybe if you got that surgery you’d get some decent sleep and be able to remember what you had for lunch yesterday. No. Not even close. It was curry.”

Lilia

Lilia thinks the snoring is cute. He’s up well after you every night and so witnesses your chaotic tossing and turning. Of course, he’s also noticed your occasional cantankerous behavior, especially after particularly restless nights. That will not deter him from loving you in the slightest. Or teasing you. He lives to tease and lives for your cuteness.

Admittedly, he didn’t expect sleep apnea to be the cause of your problems.

Courteous enough to use headphones, Lilia stays up gaming one night. Meanwhile, on the bed in the corner, you roll and roll, trying your best to get some sleep. Late into the night, the game ends and Lilia finally prepares for bed. As he’s sliding beneath the covers, he pauses. Silence fills the room, deafening and foreign. Ruby eyes fall on your sleeping form, alarms going off when he realizes you’re not breathing.

Quick to act, Lilia presses his fingers to your neck. Finding a pulse, he pulls you into his arms to relocate to the floor for CPR. But the moment your body shifts, your brain restarts and you resume breathing—and snoring.

He waits for a moment, thoroughly confused, but replaces you on the bed where you curl up happily. Taking surprises in stride as always, Lilia lets the moment go and joins you in bed.

For ages, Lilia doesn’t say anything. The event honestly slips his mind until a particularly grumpy day when you snap at him and he teases you about your attitude and messy sleep habits—especially the not breathing thing. While you grumble about going to take a nap, Silver approaches to question about the “not breathing thing.” That’s not normal. A bit of research reveals to them that you probably have sleep apnea.

Now that there’s an explanation for your moods and exhaustion, Lilia is more interested. He’s not particularly impressed by the suggested treatments but, for once, he’s willing to try them for your sake.

Lilia loves to eat whatever he can; it’s part of living so he’s never given it a second thought how much caffeine and sugar you ingested just trying to make it to the end of the day. And the naps. Lilia enjoys a good afternoon nap, but apparently those aren’t doing you any favors either. You’re not going to enjoy any of this.

But Lilia does his job in true Lilia fashion. That snack you had literally two seconds ago is gone. It was in your hand and now it’s not. It takes a day or two before you realize that Lilia is behind the thievery. Try as you might to sneak a treat, you can’t get one over on him. It’s cold turkey for you and a sheer game for him. Only the non-sugar-loaded sweets and decaf drinks are safe.

Naps aren’t much better. Lilia is a wildcard and will wake you up in whatever manner he deems fun at the time. You might wake up to soft, sweet kisses. You might wake up to having your cheeks pinched. Or you might wake up to a bucket of water. The kisses are nice, but the roulette is not worth it. And again, you can’t hide from Lilia. Even stealing away to Ramshackle doesn’t save you.

The first several weeks are hell and you’re pissed. For a while, you probably don’t even talk to Lilia, but that does not deter him from his mission. Your mood is foul, your sleep apnea is worse, and you might strangle the fae at any given moment.

But it does get better. Being forced into this new routine does improve your overall wellbeing with time. Your sleep schedule begins to stabilize, your fatigue and mood improve, and your need to consume unhealthy food to survive the day has been reduced. In the end, he may have been a massive pain in the ass, but Lilia improved your condition. Good luck living that down.

“Boo! Hehe. Are you behaving? Don’t have any tempting snacks, do you? Pity. I was hoping to play a little. Oh but it’s less fun when you’re in on it. Still, I suppose you have been doing well. I can’t even remember the last time I had to wake you from a nap. Should we celebrate? I’m sure I could commission Trey for a cake. You’re right, that might set us back. Well then what would you like as a reward? I see. Then by all means, come take them. If you can. Hehe.”

~~~~~

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

[kindred-spirit-93]

life is a comedy for those who think and a tragedy for those who feel

remember how i said i had studying to do and would be back after finishing? guess what didnt happen lol.

disclaimer for me yapping and little to no sentence structure lol

--

had just had a really nice moment with my dad and brother as we ate lil cakes lol. carrot, strawberry and a slice of tiramisu.

after which i went to my room to resume work, papers across my desk and pen atop my notebook, all awaiting my return.

next thing i know i knocked over my (thankfully cold) mint tea all over my desk and onto the carpet.

my brain switches off as it so often does in moments of shock and disbelief. all i can hear is the damp sound liquid usually makes when fabric breaks its fall (flow?),

and something behind my eyes snaps. i sigh. theres no use crying over spilt tea as they say.

i try to rescue what i can but my endeavour proves to be futile. open the window to prop my soaked notebook and lecture notes in all their botched inky glory. its raining

i want to laugh till i cry. this is the funniest thing that could have happened im surprised i didnt see it coming. and today of all days. shame on me really

i mustve broken something in my brain at some point because for whatever reason my first reaction to most things regardless of appropriateness of the situation is the fatal urge to laugh. does the laughter fill a void that shouldnt be there? am i distracting myself from whatever ails me? whos to say.

oh well. no (serious) harm done. probably cant get any worse

as usual i spoke far too soon.

while flipping over the notebook to see if the other side was dry or if it had met the watery demise of its brethren, it slipped from my hand and fell with a splat onto the still-dripping-on-the-carpet tea. restoring balance and to the universe no doubt

i really cant be too happy huh

taking an old tshirt from the pile of laundry on my bed dating back to the carboniferous period, i mop the tea and it mocks me.

i resist the crazed smile

in the kitchen to fetch a sponge a cloth and a tupperware to fill with soapy water. and of course we dont have dish washing liquid, why would we.

another sigh. very little fazes me, i know my luck too well now to expect anything less. collateral damage is always a given.

my rule of thumb is if something can theoretically go wrong (thank u overthinking & hs statistics) it probably will. so make peace with it now instead of mourning it later.

less feelings that way. feelings can hurt. and id just rather not.

i consider bleach (momentarily, as a joke. to loosen the tension in my head. doesnt go too well.) so i opt for hand soap.

honourable mentions: shower gel, toothpaste, olive oil, tears, 17 in 1 coffee extract shampoo that doesnt smell like coffee. tap water.

the good news is that i gained like 3 and a half minutes of cardio and core engagement. and the approval of my grandmother for my scrubbing technique.

shed win diamond plated gold if competitive cleanliness was to ever become a thing. i take after her (strongly). a champion of sorts. her successor.

as i wait for my papers to dry, thoughts to settle, and the will to continue, i type this out in the hopes of killing to birbs with one stone.

or in my case knocking over two cups with my phone. or something

practice to stretch my dormant writing muscles (and return blood flow to my fingers. the window is still open and its 9 out), and share a funny story with the chance it makes someone laugh.

the worst part is they dont even smell like mint.

[a-lonely-dunedain]

1, 6, 9, 10 , 12 and 35 for any oc you’d like!! Mix and match if you want!

oh! I missed one! ok let's see...

1. are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?

I try to color code of my OCs! There isn't any sort of symbolism behind them besides just Vibes™, but Ethedis is green, Tossdir is red, Margim is dark red, and Celeair is blue.

my less developed OCs don't have a suuuuper solidified colors yet tho, but currently I'm thinking that Ceriondil is red, Rodigrin is turquoise, and Elwar is a dark steel blue. I'm actually still not sure who the 4th member of their group will be besides the fact that they're a dwarf, so I don't have a color for them yet.

6. "how do they wear their hair? do they care a lot how their hair looks?"

hmmm I'll answer this for Ethedis bc she's one of my only characters who actually styles it lol. She keeps is pulled back pretty simply, but lets her bangs loose to just do whatever. She's not super concerned with keeping it looking neat all the time, but she likes to keep the long parts out of her way, and if it can look pretty at the same time then that's always a nice bonus! she also likes to accessorize with those little silver leaf decorations

also, I don't know where I saw this headcanon or how commonplace it is, but I've heard some people go with this idea that for elves braiding each other's hair is kind of like an intimate thing that couples do? Idk if I'll go with this angle, but at some point in the 4th age it might be cute to add a little braid somewhere in her hairstyle, bc she's started to let Corunir help style it <3 (another one of those little things that doesn't seem like a big deal, but it is to her)

9. "favorite food? least favorite? are they a picky eater? do they have any dietary restrictions?"

hmmm I'll answer this one for Tossdir!

Tossdir really can't be a picky eater, he's a Ranger and sometimes just has to take whatever he can find, so he's developed a tolerance for basically anything that could be considered edible. and some not. I think he ate a stick once.

As for his favorite, he really liked carrot cake! But being the sentimental guy that he is, can't eat it anymore without thinking about Tadan and some measure of guilt, seeing as he partially blames himself for his death. It was the last thing Tadan ever gave him, after all.

He is now deeply conflicted about carrot cake.

10. "if they wear jewelry, what kind? do they prefer silver or gold? do they have a favorite gem?"

Ethedis wears silver jewellery mostly! More when she's at home in Rivendell, but when she's traveling she usually goes without, besides the little silver leafs in her hair of course (mostly because I don't want to draw any more jewellery lmao)

I never really gave much thought to what her favorite gem would be, hmmm... first thing that came to mind was something pale and green, perhaps beryls? elves are said to be fond of them after all. I guess that makes her basic lmao

12. "how long have they been around? do you know their birthday? is their birthday the day you made them or another day? what do they think of celebrating birthdays?"

Oh gosh, how long has Ethedis been around? I guess I created her when I started playing lotro. according to my account, it was created in...

2016! which was... hey, lotro owes me a gift box! that was 8 years ago but my account only has year 7 gifts >:(

anyway I guess that makes Ethedis roughly 8 years old, but I couldn't tell you exactly when she went from player character to capital C Character™

Tossdir was created when Before the Shadow came out, around November of 2022, but I guess his concept of "weird Ranger who sleeps in bushes named Shrub Man" goes back a little bit further, but not much.

now I did actually work out some of their birthdays in-universe by rolling some dice for funsies. let's see if I can find where I wrote that down... ok so Ethedis - May 19th (she's 350 someodd years old) Tossdir - September 18th, just a few days before Sarn Ford and everything else in Cardolan, that sure is a fun coincidence huh! (he's the Dunedain equivalent of being in his early 20s) Celeair - March 31st (probably late 20s? maybe like 30 by the time he gets to Trum Dreng but that's subject to change) Margim - I thought about rolling dice for her, but no one remembers when she was born in-universe anyway, and she has no idea how old she is.

35. "do they ever return home?"

I like to think they all make it there, in some fashion or another. But for many of them what "home" looks like is different at the end of their stories than it was at the beginning.

For Ethedis it isn't Rivendell anymore, but wherever Corunir and Tossdir are, both in this life and the next.

For Tossdir I don't think it's Tornhad at the end, so much as the North in general might be what he considers home, so long as his friends and family are there with him. I do think he still has a lot of fondness for the Trollshaws though.

For Celeair it's wherever Margim is safe and happy, and for Margim that ends up being Lhan Tarren.

For Elwar the current plan is that she's going to Gondor with Ciriondil, where she'll take some levels in Mariner and her home will be on the ocean, with the family those chose to love her.

(now that I type it out, it almost seems a little sappy that all their ideas of what home is aren't really places so much as wherever the people they love are, but hey I'm allowed to be a little sappy right?)

[schlattslonghairytoes]

chapter five

real life!

talia

I haven't even been here for a full day and I've been grocery shopping two times. everyone wants to film a youtube video before the misfits party tomorrow so they sent me to get all the food for the video, 'swell as more food for the house

im still thinking about me and schlatts conversation last night, I feel like I fell right back into what we used to be, its like my mind is forgetting how bad he hurt me, betrayed me even, and it seems like he doesn't even feel bad, or remember it ever happened.

ugh he makes me feel like im going crazy. when I get to the store I get out and look for a cart, cooper is going to text me the list so I can get everything.

iMessage!

coopdawg🐶

hi taliiii

ok so heres the list

gummy bears (for me)

flour

sticks

lots of butter

apples

carrots 

eggs

steak

string

lettuce

and

milk

thats it!😄

ok sounds good

you sure that's everything?

yup!

it wasn't everything. I had to go back and forth to the grocery store three times. im so done already. when I finally get back to the house with everything I call everyone down to get the stuff, I am not carrying all that in. a mister schlatt comes running out the door.

"I am here my lady where are the bags?" he was never good at British accents. "its all in the back." I respond. schlatt goes to grab the bags when the rest of the boys come filing out of the house, so I leave them to get the bags.

I walk back inside and settle on the couch so they can start setting up and filming, I also have to make a cake that looks like the Minecraft one later so I decide to just rest for a bit. im barely listening when they start the video

that is until ted walks over to me with a apple covered in butter and tells me "talia your health is going down fast, you need this apple to replenish your hearts" he yells. "im ok, let me go ted it will be ok" I say dramatically falling off the couch 

"NO" Charlie screams running across the living room, "talia we need you to eat the apple, please we need someone to do the dishes!" he holds his hand on his heart. I was so close to hitting him when schlatt pipes up "is that a misogyny?" and I loose it.

im not really In the rest of the video till the very end when they finish their "cake" or whatever they want to call that. when I come out with a cake that actually looks like it could be in Minecraft and place it infront of schlatt like ted told me to.

ted hands me the camera and walks behind schlatt, "hey why don't you try this cake talia made." ted puts his hand on schlatts shoulder and whispers in his ear before staring into the camera looking like flynn rider. "this actually looks kinda good, fine ill try it." schlatt says.

but before he can even try it ted shoves schlatts head into the cake as hard as he can. as you can guess, schlatt was not very happy about that so I had to film schlatt throwing ted in the pool, and he even tried to get me to go in.

"do you wanna join him talia, you two were conspiring against me weren't you!" he walks toward the camera. "no! I swear ted didn't even tell me, schlatt stop!" and I start running, and schlatt kept chasing me for 5 minutes, no joke.

at the end of the video, there is a montage of him chasing me around the house to the fucking scooby doo music, taken by charlie I believe. I ran into my room and locked the door, but my dumbass forgot that our bathrooms connected. long story short, I ended up in the pool, but hey, so did schlatt

once we both dried off we kinda just sat outside on the chairs, in silence. it was nice, I thought more about the boy next to me, he made it hard for me to think with him so close, I wish nothing ever changed, I really wish our friendship stayed the same

"lets go inside" he walked me to my room, I said thank you before opening my door into my room, walking to my bed, and face planting on my pillow. I wasn't ready to be this close to him.

the next day!

twitter!

talia😩      @taliatalks4ever

ya'll ever get high off that za🍃

💬736       ♻️92     🤍12,386

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@jjshlatty

no I am a holy man of god, I would never smoke the devils lettuce out of respect for my creator and his beliefs, watch out the hand of god will strike you down.

                  reply:

                  @taliatalks4ever

                           this u?

@user8214673

can u share? my dealer died.

real life!

third person

schlatt and talia sat in their respective rooms, getting ready for the misfits party tonight. they both had the other on their mind, schlatt more then talia.

talia asked hansum for a joint and he graciously said yes, so there she was smoking weed while listening to tyler the creator, getting ready for tonight. she hadn't hooked up with anyone in a while, not because no one wanted to, because she didn't want to. no one was up to her standards

only one man had ever been and he broke her heart, so she strayed away from hook ups and situationships. she wasn't willing to put herself through that, so she didn't. with one exception. 

when she was high she didn't care, anyone was good enough, whatever eased the pain of her heart a little bit more.

schlatt on the other hand, was the opposite, throughout high school he ran through girls everyday, hooking up but never anything more, it never went beyond that. at parties he only got with people drunk.

now he's too scared to repeat the mistake he made in high school, being too drunk and stupid.

he just wanted a drink and to observe, something most people don't know about schlatt, is he wanted to be a phycologist before the youtube stuff happened, his passion was helping others with their troubles, even if he couldn't solve his own. 

so now at most parties he sat, quietly, observing who liked who, who hated who, anything he could do to learn more about others, so that was his plan, a glass of whiskey and a comfy bean bag.

the party started in an hour and was roughly forty minutes away at the misfit house. the crew were splitting up into two cars, as there were only two designated drivers. Charlie and their cameraman max. it would be ted, maddie, charlie, talia and schlatt in one car, and max, hansum, cooper, travis and noah in the other car.

when the time came everyone got into their designated cars and they began the drive

real life!

schlatt's pov

we got in the car, me ted and maddie in the back and charlie and talia in the front. I had called shotgun but I remembered talia gets extremely car sick so I let her have this one. "who's on aux?" talia turned around and looked at me with her eyes hooded and one brow raised, Jesus she was baked, but she still looked beautiful.

"ill hop on it" ted grabbed the charger and plugged in his phone. "that's what she said." talia laughed before starting to cough hysterically. "you good?" I wrap my hand around the seat and pat her back.

"im good I swear, god I need some air." she rolls down her window and "she" by Tyler the creator starts playing. "hey take some insta pics for me" talia says before laying her head out the window and laughing. 

I lean out my window and take pictures of her laughing with the wind blowing through her hair. eventually she put her head back in the car and I sent her the pictures. I took really good ones, I was always her photographer.

"jay please tell me you got my good side, that angle is gonna make me look fat." talia lifted the phone from my hands and started to look through the pictures I took. I don't think she was overly pleased with them all being of my face. "god you suck." she laughs

"love you too." but she didn't know I meant it.

real life!

talia

we arrived at the party and I hear Disturbia by Rihanna blasting through the ceiling speakers, and my inner slut is clawing at the bars containing it. we all head over to where everyone else is and from what I can see (and smell) everyone here is already wasted and high.

I see schlatt go over to a girl in a corner and I roll my eyes, such a whore. tonight was not ment for me to mope around, anything me and schlatt might of had in the past, is done.

our lips moved at a feverous pace, hands exploring each other like never before. smoke lingering from our forgotten blunts, his mouth moving down to my neck and planting itself there. I grab his shirt and stretch it over his head, I slide my hands to his hair and tug lightly.

"fuck talia" he whimpers into my neck

a chill runs down my spine, remembering our moments together was not a pleasant memory, it was time to forget.

[issybee06]

Because…

Part I

Warnings: swearing, underage drinking, smoking, talking about war, trauma dumping

Phosphenes

(n.) the colors or “stars” you see when you rub your eyes.

……………….…………………………………………………………

“Tadaima…”

Genma looked up from his scroll, wrinkling his nose, “Shit, Hime…what is Inoichi doing to you?”

I scoff, pulling the bag of groceries through the door before closing it, “thanks, you sure know how to flatter a girl.”

Genma smirked proudly, getting up from the couch, “my pleasure.”

He began rummaging through the bag, “did you get the sake?”

Glaring, I hit his arm with a carrot. Like a baby, he whined dramatically and I pulled out the sealed bottle, “yes I did, and you should have gotten it earlier today when you got off your shift!”

He groaned flopping on a chair, “but I had to get the cake!”

I give him a sharp glare, “do you know how hard it is to get Sake the day after new years? I had to go to 5 different stores, Genma, 5!”

He waves his hand dismissively, and I continue to put away the food in the fridge, “besides, I thought we were getting Gai new weights.”

Genma gave a dry laugh, “Fucking Asuma already got him that.”

I sigh, putting the last of the food away, “what times the party?”

“Didn’t you help Kurenai with the invites? It’s at 7.”

Nodding, I pull off the grey TI jacket and head to my room.

“I’m gonna shower-don’t! Eat the cookies!”

He whines, putting the cookie back, “it’s not like anyone’s gonna notice!”

“I will.”

………………………………………………………………………….

5 years ago, on October 10, the Nine tails was released from my Jinchūriki sensei, Uzumaki Kushina which resulted in the death of hundreds of Shinobi, including my sensei and our Yondaime Namikaze Minato.

And for the past 5 years, I have been working in the TI building under Yamanaka Inoichi along with one of my close classmates Morino Ibiki. While Ibiki shined in the torture part of the department, I working in the more intelligence part.

The poison department…wasn’t what I had gone for initially, I had wanted to be a field medic that actually got to go out of the village, but my medical Ninjutsu was mediocre and mediocre gets people dead.

It wasn’t like I was disappointed, medics don’t actually engage in combat and my mother said my talents in jutsu would be waisted sitting on the sidelines.

But I guess sitting in a lab all day making and looking at the components of poisons is so much better. Either way I’m still not out there.

It’s still winter in Konoha, and despite being in the land of Fire, it got fucking cold.

Snow licked at our feet as Genma and I walked to Gais apartment, which was already booming with music and people talking.

I sighed, a large cloud of air coming out of my mouth. Genma wrapped an arm around my shoulder, squeezing me.

“Hey, easy up Hime. Let’s have fun getting shit faced with people we like.”

I laughed, “whatever you say, Baka.”

We walked up the first flight of stairs, heading to Gais second story apartment. Genma knocked on the door, giving two crisp knocks before being interrupted when Gai all but ripped the door open.

“MY OLD TEAMMATES!! YOU MADE IT AND JUST IN TIME FOR KARAOKE!!”

Genma and I smiled, and I wrapped my arms around Gai as he picked me up in a hug almost crushing the cookies, “happy birthday Gai-kun, sorry we’re a little late.”

“Nonsense! You’re here! That’s all that matters!”

Genma passed Gai the Sake bottle, smiling, “Happy 19th, Gai.”

Gai had always been the baby of our team, with me being a year older and Genma being 3years Gais senior, we as the older two took it in our power to baby Gai as much as we could…but now he was 19 and a full fledged Jonin.

Gai grinned at the Sake and then at Genma, “Genma! You sly dog! Where’d you find this?!”

I rolled my eyes as Genma gave me an apologetic look before nudging me in so that we wouldn’t freeze to death. Gai, the ever social butterfly, had invited not only our graduating academy class but also many other shinobi.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder as soon as I pulled my coat off, “Since you’re late, you own two shots!”

I laughed, taking the small shot glass and swigging it. It burned like a mother Fucker, shinobi alcohol has always been made stronger, but the feeling was familiar.

I couldn’t count all the times I had snuck off with Genma and/or Gai with a bottle of the cheep stuff when we were younger.

Genma and I got used to it quick, but poor Gai had never been able to get over being a lightweight…but boy was he a fun drunk.

Asuma two years ago had convinced Drunk Gai to run from the village gate to the stone head completely butt naked, and he had raised that challenge by doing it while running backwards on his hands.

No one could stop laughing for two days.

Gai laughed loudly, shaking the apartment with his booming voice, “now that you’re here, WE CAN START THE DRINKING GAMES!”

It had been an hour since Genma and I had arrived, and the alcohol and bright lights of the party was starting to get to my head.

I slipped out, opting to stand on the outside balcony. It was cold, like I had thought, but it was calming compared to the heat of 20+ shinobis crammed into Gais apartment. I enjoyed parties, I really did, but sometimes it all got too much.

I blame Asuma for this habit I think as I pull outa pack of cigarettes. Pulling one out, I place it between my lips as I search myself for my lighter.

Nothing. No lighter, meant it was in my fucking jacket at home.

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair before raising my hands to start weaving the all too familiar signs , when suddenly my body stiffened.

This chakra….

Fuck.

“Those things will kill you, you know.”

Turning my head, I look up, eyes softening at the source of the voice.

“You’re late, Kakashi. Party started at 7.”

The dog mask with the red painted on smile tilted, and the moon caught the soft glow of his lone Sharingan. He slowly and silently moved down the roof to be in the light, and I turned to face him fully.

“Oh? The time must have…slipped my mind.”

I frown, the cigarette dangling from my lips, “you should have come earlier. He’s your best friend, Kakashi-”

“Inu, (Y/n), I’m not off right now.”

My frown deepened, and I sigh,“Right.”

His mask tilted more, almost comically, “New haircut?”

I scowl, knowing he was being an ass. Stupid Genma a week ago had made a wrong swipe of his kunai during training, ending with me getting a free cut. Now, the hair curled just shy of my shoulders.

“Shout out to my barber.”

“Maybe I should see if Genma does men.” he evenly spoke and found a second there I could have sworn his tone was teasing.

I hum, weaving a few hand signs before blowing a small flame to light the cigarette And he hops down from the roof silently.

He stands fully, and I forget how tall the once shrimpy silver-haired man was when we were kids.

He’s still lean, not muscler like Gai, but he’s toned and I can’t help but press myself further away from him into the railing with a blush I convince myself that is from the alcohol.

Kakashi…ever since that day had barely showed his face around the village, opting to stay in the shadows. But every now and then, people were graced with getting a glimpse of him. It had been a good 2 years since we’d been this close, and that was in a room full of our comrades and in front of the council.

This, despite having all our friends a plate of glass away, was different.

“Those things will kill you.”

He repeated, tone commanding. I furrowed my brows until it clicked on my head that he wasn't some Anbu subordinate anymore, but a captain.

Still, I had never listened to him when we were kids…why start now?

I make eye contact as I take my first drag, and let the smoke swirl around me when I blow it out. I feel his eyes narrow, and I smirk with all the grace my drunk ass could muster up in front of Hatake Fucking Kakashi.

“If I die because of this, then that means I didn’t die a gory death in battle…and I’d say that’s a pretty good death for me.”

*let's see if you guys like this! If you do I'll write more!*

[orleans-jester]

It was Frankie’s first Easter, which meant that they had to make it special. She was sitting up with a little help from mom and dad which was something to celebrate on it’s own, but she wasn’t crawling yet so there wasn’t much in the way of a big easter egg hunt, the way that Agnes had as a little girl, where treats were strewn all over the property and all of the shelter kids would come over and hunt to their hearts content. But there was a felt bunny-basket that she could touch, feel the textures of, pose with because of course there were going to be pictures. Some new plushies inside which Maddy bought duplicates of and would leave at the Inn to be delivered to Chip’s family and Valerie’s family, never leaving them out of it. And a new bunny book to read, though it was more so the parents that would be reading it and Frankie sort of looking at the pictures. Still. It was Easter. And, of course, a little bodysuit and dress to wear for the big occasion.

It was something to dress up for. After prepping some of the food for their Dinner with Death, our Maddy would get dressed up and press kisses over her two loves before they would be headed for the Church Service. Given the fact that it wasn’t going to busy at all, fuck it, they were bringing Frankie. If she started to cry or get upset, who was going to be bothered? Friar Tuck? He should know what he was getting himself into.

She tried to pay attention. She really did. But her mind kept on reminding her of the year before. Those old ladies who had pinched Bastien’s cheeks. He was a gentleman and had let them, despite the fact that he didn’t like to be touched, especially not unexpectedly or by strangers. And he had made her the most beautiful little carousel. God, she loved that thing. It was more exquisite than any expensive little trinket that she had gotten over the years from her parents or her grandparents. It sat still on her bedstand. And she remembered his dream of making a carousel that they had started to talk about and - how so much had just been lost. She adjusted to it. But that didn’t mean that it didn’t still suck.

It still just felt a little out of touch.

Friar Tuck was a good addition though. So was Alan. Yes, he made her think about Lance a lot but he was great on his own too. The dynamic between these two was so opposite one another, that watching them interact in any capacity was like watching a sitcom or something. She would have brought the two men some snacks as well, since she didn’t know their own cooking abilities - could be anywhere from Thomas to Triton, she couldn’t guess - so she provided nonetheless. Sandwiches and carrot cake and of course banana bread, in a little easter basket of their own. No one should have to worry about food on Easter.

Dinner was approaching. Maybe not at the usual hour that people sat down to eat but the Belleroses were different. Everything was more intune with Bastien’s schedule, and Maddy’s cicadian rhythm grew to match his. Even without all of the onlookers anymore, she’d rather go out with him while he’s more comfortable.

Food in the oven. Prayer to Death  that it would be ready soon, if he would like to join them. Maybe he would show, maybe he would not, there wasn’t much of a choice but to wait and see. For now, she was giving Frankie her meal, one strap of her dress down her shoulder, and the bodice pulled down to try to make herself more available.

She remained calm. Not like when she had met Jasmine at Disney. She wasn’t fussing over her hair or what she looked like, or what their home must look like. The dancing pole and the bathroom just off to the side but not entirely enclosed, the second-hand furniture mixed with their Wal-Mart things, and whatever scavenged items had caught their fancy. It was clean, it was tidy, but it still had a lived in feel to it, and an oddness in the objects.

“Do you think he’d be offended if I asked about certain people?” She’d ask Bastien. There were some things dancing around in that brain of hers. “Not about the future but - how they went?”

[amouress16]

RUIN Thoughts!

Under the cut for your convenience to avoid spoilers!

I have seen pretty much everything that is out/widely known about as of day one so I'm just gonna ramble about everything. Starting with positives and then getting into the things I didn't like towards the end. Cause hoo boy are my feeling very mixed about this whole thing let me tell you.

I like Cassie! We have proper context and motivation for her right off the bat. Immediate story improvements there!

The gameplay of the whole DLC looks way better. Personally I've never liked games that box you in to one path too much in a way it's too obvious, but the DLC makes it realistic and gives paths that loop back around to places you've been. The map still doesn't make sense but that's just the SB experience at this point I guess.

Eclipse. ECLIPSE. ECLIPSE CANON OH MY GOD. He's sweet and gentle and acts just like how a caretaker should! Sun pleading for help and Moon expressing their pain being forced to work as entirely separate programs, both of them fighting each other's triggers.... Aauughhhh I love them. The fact that all they needed for so long was a simple reboot and there were just no human workers around to do it.... 😭

AND ROXANNE. Seeing the side of the characters actually being child entertainers is so nice! Even if it was done just to make the moment bittersweet. "Do you still like carrot cake? I like carrot cake." They're all supposed to be kind. They're supposed to be good and wholesome and they've all been twisted into monsters that aren't their true selves.

High tech AR Vanny mask.... but no Vanny... 🤔 sure game, whatever you say

On the other hand, no map bot, but mask bot? Clever sleight of hand Steel Wool, I see you

Bonnie design reveal!!!! Further implications that Monty murdered him!!! I...! I'm not sure I like it. It's difficult because he has no consistency in his appearance. The Bonnie Bowl mascot is purple like OG Bon but the design we see in the gator ride telling Monty's backstory is blue. What are those shoulder pads and how would that work on an animatronic, like at all?? He has no room to move his head! Don't get me started on the inconsistent coloring between his gloves and his outfit. Idc if I sound pretentious for this, the clothing choices hurt me as an artist tbh. If you're gonna make him blue let him wear hot pink or or even yellow. Idk idk it just didn't mesh to me. Oh and his neon sign had the star glasses but his cut outs didn't. Inconsistency is Steel Wool's middle name.

What is with the glitchy shadow rabbit? Why is it shaped like a map marker? Is that supposed to be Glitchtrap? A security system...? I don't understand the point of this storywise at all but sure gameplay go brrr I guess

What the fuck is the Mimic. No seriously. I don't know what it is. Why is it here. What is happening. I am well versed in the canon of these games what is- .......... So it's another Book Thing. Haha. No. Bad. Stop that. Whoever signed off on the "let's add book lore to the games with no explanation or fathomable reason" decision, I am spraying you with a water bottle. Stop alienating those of us who don't have the time/money/desire to buy and read the books. I hate the books personally and have been actively ignoring them since the Plushtrap Chaser one. They are meant to be fun side stories for people who want that, not main game canon!!! Stop it!! I am actually begging you!!

TL;DR I like the characterization given to everyone this time around, it felt right for them. Bonnie's design is inconsistent and kinda mid. And trying to force in booklore most people won't know about is just stupid and I'm mad about it. That's about it.

I definitely wanna draw Cassie with Roxy post game- because I do believe she survived that elevator crash- and maybe make a Bonnie design I'll like better. And I definitely wanna see other people's art. That'll be the best part of all of this.

[yesyourstalker]

Neta: so I take the slices of carrot cake and I kind of put it together and they make a whole cake

Warabi: so what you're making a wedding cake out of frozen carrot cake that's been in your freezer for 2 years?

Neta: no! I hate carrot cake. I don't like the texture but whatever he wants I do for him. I don't even know if we're going to get married. Honestly, I don't think I want to get married anymore. I was married. It wasn't great at the time but what kind of settled made peace............. Wow! So as if she knew I was talking about her.

Warabi: I'm going on break

Neta: hey syl.

Sylvia: hey Net........ How are you

Neta: I'm alive and medicated. How's your eye?

Sylvia: you know it's still glass. How's your ear?

Neta: still gone. Hehehehe.... But really how are you?

Sylvia: I'm good alive and medicated I heheheh.... I'm actually doing great! I'm engaged!

Neta: That's amazing! Sylvia, finally marrying Rift. He seems like a good guy. Cirrina seems to like him.

Sylvia: yeah... Of course he can't replace her actual dad. How is she?

Neta: doing good. She's at a turf war game right now. She's been going frequently. I think she might want to be on a team maybe when she gets to high school.

Sylvia:hmmm You know I hate those things. All it does is just glorify war and romanticize the shit that we've been through....... I swear surface culture........they have no respect for anything. They treat everything like it's a game.

Neta: come on Syl lighting up. It's different up here.... It's......... *sigh* I don't know. I should feel the same way too, but seeing her play. Hanging around with friends and acting normal. Having a childhood....... I don't want to take me away from her like it was taking away from us....... Just seeing her smile and laugh and I can't take that away from my little girl.

Sylvia: *sigh* I guess you're right......... As long as she's safe and happy. How is surface world anyway?

Neta: It's good, I got tanner hehe.... It's great! I'm really happy up here.... Got a nice store. Working my own business....the apartments are kind of small but I don't think I'm going to be staying there for long.

Sylvia: you still seen that metalopod guy? Hehehehe you two look very happy. It's kind of weird seeing you in a magazine. Was not a good picture. Terrible angle.

Neta: they never get my good side............. It's complicated right now. It's not bad complicated....... It's kind of like a waiting game right now...... You should meet him you'd like him............ Do you ever think of coming up to the surface??

Sylvia: no, I'm not going back. It's too much for me. I only went up there for missions. That's all I associate it with now. Every time I'm up there my guard is up and everybody is a threat I-......I can't..... I'm sorry

Neta: I feel the same way about the bunkers.... I can't go back down there............ever.... Is it different down there since the war is over?

Sylvia: It's really different! I wouldn't even call them bunkers anymore. We have shops, we can legally purchase and enjoy surface media now! Better plumbing, better homes. We have nicer light panels now! Of course the nicer areas have glass! Apparently they're working with jelly-co installing glass sheets so we can actually see the sun without going out to the surface!...... Which honestly is ridiculous because glass is a lot cheaper than artificial sunlight

Neta: *pffth*........I guess they're still treating sunlight as a luxury now and not as a right........typical....

Sylvia: Don't try to make this political. We'll be here all day hehehe...... I just wanted to catch up and ask if I'm able to have Cirrina over for a week. It's next year to be at the wedding and maybe....... Do you want to come too?

Neta: I think we can arrange that to happen. She'd love to see you get married....... I don't know about me though. It may change of aesthetically but........... It will always be a prison for me.............*sigh*..... I-

Sylvia: I get it. I completely understand Neta............ This place was not kind to you or anyone at that time

Neta:...............*sigh*................ Maybe I'll try going down there for a visit........ I want to see what music they have I can put in my shop.

Sylvia: whenever you saaay........... Maybe I can try going to the surface just to see cirrina play....... I also want to see how small your apartment is.

Neta: hahahahah shut up. See I knew you were going to do this. You always have to make fun of me about something!

Sylvia:wah wah wah.......... you shut up! If you're coming underground you better wear something nice not ugly clothes they wear up to the surface. They're like walking billboards. It's tacky, everything has to be branded. It's crazy.

Neta: RIGHT???. We used to just take blank shirts and draw pictures and shit. These kids have to have name brands. Do you know how much Toni kensa cost? It's like 100Gs for a pair of black and white shoes not the sales price!

Sylvia: I'm telling you surface dwellers don't take anything seriously. They don't know the value of money. They don't know the value of anything they just-

Neta: I thought you said we weren't going to be political.

Sylvia: be quiet............ The baby's crying. I got to go. Bye Net.

Neta: I got to pick up cirrina and see you later syl........... She's getting married. Maybe I should reconsider..

Mahi: she sounds nice. I can run the store If you're going to be underground for a while.

Neta: yeah thanks no problem. It'll be next year I have enough time to prepare myself and just to ......... mahi.... Were you listening to my conversation?

Mahi: just snippets of it You're next to the cash register. I couldn't help it here.

Neta: no, not that part. The fact that you can understand it. When were you going to tell me you know octarian?

Mahi: You never asked.

Neta: ..................................

Mahi: also, if you don't like carrot cake, you can just like get spice cake which is like carrot cake without the carrots but similar flavor

Neta:.......... Go on your break. I can't. I can't deal with you right now. Hahaha You're ridiculous hehehe You knew everything I was saying? what if I was talking shit huh?

Mahi belongs to @fish-at-fish-fish-resort

[renneiscent]

Two Sides of The Same Coin

Note: This chapter… is kind of contained NSFW part that I embarrassedly managed to write. So... yeah, pardon my bad grammar and ugly writing.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 8: …but also my heart that yearns for you.

“So, where is this secret coffee shop you talked about?”

I turn and find Jake is putting his wallet inside his pants pocket. We just had finished delightful lunch, our laughter and conversation (mostly my monologues) are still lingering in the air as we walk out from the restaurant. I have no clue about how much Jake paid for today’s lunch but I saw some cash when he paid for our food. It must be so damn expensive. I’m upset that old man didn’t give him free meal or at least discount, at least that’s what I saw judging about how much cash Jake handed to the cashier.

“That’s just few blocks from my flat,” I explain. But that means we will separate too soon if we go grab some coffee right away. I don’t want that.

“Oh,” his brows are raised. I guess he realise that too. “Very well, shall we go now?”

Then Jake calls the taxi for us while I’m hoping for us to hardly get the taxi, but no, the taxi comes right away parked in front of us. He then opens the door for me as the sign to get inside first, which I stop him right away by holding the side of his shirt. I’m thinking to go there by bus, but it is too much of public space. Too many people. Who can ensure that it will be safe for Jake and his transparency while being in the public transportation? I highly doubt that. So it makes taxi is the best option we got so far. Let’s just ask the driver to stop at the bus stop so we can walk to the coffee shop. Yeah, that will do.

“Nothing,” I smile. “Let’s go then.”

The traffic is smooth, which I hate it. I’m hoping it will be crowded and there is going to be traffic jam like usual. It’s Sunday after all, it’s a weekend! But why suddenly people didn’t go out and crowd the whole street like when I spent some time by myself? I take glance on my phone screen, it’s still 5 o’clock but the sky already turns darker rather than usual. Will it rain? As soon as I notice the bus stop, I immediately sign the driver to stop. Jake looks very surprised but he didn’t ask much but just pay the fare again. I hope I didn’t make him broke in one date.

“What was that?” he walks beside me. I look up and read his expression which is now showing confusion and uncertainty.

I cannot help myself but grin. “Nothing,” I lie.

“What’s that grin for?” He lifts one brow, still watching me in perplexed.

I press my lips together, forcing my smile away. “I’m just excited to get some coffee.”

“Right,” he smiles. “As if I didn’t notice your sneaky plan to stop the taxi right in front of the nearest bus stop in your neighbourhood.”

I blush.

I’m trying to counter his statement—which is true and I hate to admit it, but I cannot come up with anything. So I’m just looking away while our hands are brushing each other until Jake chooses to hold mine, his hand covering my hand entirely. Without saying anything, I’m holding his hand and intertwining our fingers together as if they were meant to fit perfectly together.

As we step inside the coffee shop, there are only 4 customers inside; one person is sitting while facing the huge window of the shop and reading a thick novel, two people are sitting not far from the first person while having chit-chat and sipping their lattes, the last person is drowning on whatever on her laptop with a slice of carrot cake and latte as her companion. It makes us don’t have to get in line and directly order the coffee to the barista.

“Good afternoon,” the barista smiles cheerfully to both of us. “Oh—it’s you MC. How have you been? I rarely see you these days. Let me guess… cappuccino for here as usual?”

“Hi Kevin,” I greet him. Since I’m one of those loyal customers here, it isn’t weird that the barista know my name and even my usual order, right? Especially when the shop is near my place and we often have the chance to bump into each other. “Yes, I’ve been busy these days. Now finally have some free time to get my usual order.”

I chuckle. Kevin also chuckles. Only Jake that doesn’t chuckle.

“Of course,” Kevin winks while smiling so wide. “Then what about you, mate?”

“Coffee. Black. For takeaway…” he takes a short pause. “…mate.”

“We don’t stay here?” I ask, confused.

“I prefer spending time in your place,” he winks at me as he tugs the strand of my hair behind my ear.

That’s a sudden strangely hot moment he gives me.

“Oh…” I can feel the heat on my face. “Well then, mine also takeaway please.” And I find Kevin’s face is strangely frowning. Now I understand about what’s happening here. Jake is jealous. I love it. I love the Jealous Jake.

“Good, so 1 cappuccino for you and 1 black coffee for this mate and take away.” Kevin wraps our orders before asking about the warm pumpkin pie on the display or their signature carrot cake or their new muffin like usual. “That will be £5.20.”

Jake takes his wallet out from his pocket and I quickly hold his wrist to stop him from spend more money in our very first date. “No, you promise me I will buy you coffee.”

“Yeah, and I did.” He hands out the cash to Kevin, “would you mind to give the receipt to the lady next to me, Kevin? Oh, you can keep the change.”

“What—well, thanks mate…” Kevin says sheepishly and hands me the receipt before going to make our orders.

I stare at the receipt then stare at Jake who is now leaning on the wall and his eyes are gazing on me, waiting for my response. “Uhm, a little bit help here?”

“You insisted to buy me coffee,” he smiles. “I bought yours and you bought mine. The price is on that receipt you are holding.”

I nod then quickly grope for my wallet inside my purse but then Jake holds my hand and pulls me closer to him. “Later,” he says. “We still have much time.”

I smile, completely amused with his act. I always have this assumption about how much Jake is not PDA person but thinking about today, I need to dump that assumption. Judging from today’s date, he is like a man written by woman; he is gentle, polite, such a sweetheart, that type of guy that you will not be ashamed to bring in front of your friends or family. That type of guy that will make your parents love him more than you as their own child. That type of guy that will make your friends defend him when you have an argument with him. That type of guy that will make you question yourself about what did your past life do until you have him in your arms?

I might sound like I’m really biased but Jake is such a lovely man and it’s such an unfortunate how he is living tough life like this; when a freedom is such a luxury to have. It makes me so eager to discover about his life, to reveal what actually happened until he lost that luxury. But to be honest, I’m kind of scared. Rather than scared with the damage that I will find from him, I’m more scared if my questions, my intention to know him further will bring him to the memory he want to erase. I’m more scared with the questions that in any way will harm him and damage him even more. Because he must have lost so many things, he must have killed so many parts of himself just to stay alive, just to be survived.

We are only a block away from my place, when I’m slowing my pace until stop completely. Jake notices right away as he also stops and turns himself to face me completely, holding the black coffee that he sipped in every minute. He lifts one brow and look at me, perhaps studying me for finding the reason why I suddenly stop when it’s just a block away from our final destination.

Just when I open my mouth intending to call his name, I feel a droplet of water against my skin. It begins with the pitter-patter of the rain but the drops suddenly fall even faster and become a downpour. The sudden heavy rain is pouring and every drop of the water bathes me in until I can smell that fresh and earthy scent. People are rushing and passing past us, seeking for the shelter to run away from the rainfall, but neither of us is moving, neither of us is trying to get away.

Neither of us, until Jake moves first. He throws his cup of black coffee that I’m certain that’s already mixed with the fresh water from upstairs, I throw mine too—I wonder if we will get scold for littering in the middle of heavy rain. His hand reaches my face, despite the cold of the rainfall is that sliding down on my skin, my face, my neck, my body, my everything, and I still can feel the warmth from his skin that brushing me. I still can feel the taste of his lips that strokes against me. I still can feel his body heat that press against me. I still can feel him.

The lips of his as cold as the first snow in the soothing night and as wet as the dew on the grass in the morning, it’s soaked from the rain but then I can feel the warmth of his tongue gently strokes mine. It twirls and dances inside me, giving me life and colour when our surroundings feel little grey because of the rain. Jake’s warm hand is moving to the back of my head and the other hand is holding my waist tightly, wrapping me in his embrace; while both of my hands are clutching on his shoulders as if those already attached with him, becoming him.

Is it our second kiss? I cannot remember. Every time we have kiss, it’s feeling so great, it’s feeling so amazing. It feels like we have done this so many times since his mouth fits mine so perfectly, as if this is our usual routine, as if we are the two pieces of puzzle that matching.

If only it’s not because both of us are still mere human that need oxygen to breath, there is nothing that can possibly separate us right now. I lean on his chest while hoping to hear his heartbeat but only the rainfall that I can hear. He pulls me closer into his arms, embracing me until I can feel his chest is going up and down as he is panting so hard.

“Going to catch the cold, aren’t we?” he chuckles. His words are clear as he speaks next to my temple. “Come on,” he says while pulling me away and taking my wrist, keeping me close as both of us are running. I match my pace with him, both of us are running until we finally reach the entrance of Mister Wright’s building.

“Should check the weather forecast,” I pretend to be disappointed. I’m grateful, absolutely. I cannot help but notice the figure of Jake who is soaked by the rain; how dare he is brushing his drenched hair while the shirt that soaked by water is clinging to his torso, outlining the lines of his abdomen. How dare he do that without thinking the damage that he causes on me?

“Neither did I,” he takes out his flip phone, perhaps checking if the phone still works out or not.

“It feels like the rain is not going to stop any sooner,” I mumble, waiting for him done checking his phone.

“Feels so,” he turns at me. “You should go inside and get change immediately.”

“What about you?”

“Do you have umbrella that I can borrow?”

“And letting you pass through that heavy rainfalls after soaked by the water? No.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Come inside, I believe I have some clothes that you can borrow.”

“How come you have some clothes which fit me?” he lifts one of his eyebrows, there is accusation in his tone. Oh, is he being jealous? I love this overprotective side of him.

“I like wearing oversized clothes when staying at home,” I open the entrance door and beckons him to follow me. “Some of it really big since I bought men outfit. So I believe you can wear it.” As we are going inside, there is so much water over the floor as if there is something leaked. It feels like not only us that got soaked by the sudden rainfall.  I hope we don’t get scolded by Mister Wright or maybe I will just make Jake to persuade him in case he’s angry.

When we finally inside my flat, I immediately go to the bathroom and take two towels. I hand one of it to Jake and dry myself with another towel. “Wait here, let me take the clothes,” I sprint toward my bedroom and check my cupboard to see the oversized shirt and pants that I thought will fit on Jake. After I managed to find the right size, I head toward him.

Normally I’m neither feeling shy nor awkward when a guy is taking off his shirt and making him exposed his upper’s body half-naked. Normally. Since I’m growing up with brother who loves to bring his guy friends stay over or spend the weekend together, I’m getting used with that kind of horror scene. But this time is different, well of course it is! I already thought about whatever lies beneath that polo shirt twice—let me remind you, twice! Which is I never did it with other guys before. So when I found Jake with his upper body’s half naked, exposing his bare skin and making me notice that he owns these huge tattoos that covered almost of his back, what do you expect me to do besides subconsciously walk toward him and brush his tattoo with my fingers?

It’s just a small and light touch that I made subconsciously against his back, but he easily flinches and immediately holds my wrist, his gaze on me is intense.

“I don’t know you are a tattoo person,” I comment. “Even the massive one.”

“I’m seriously concerned about your opinion on me,” he escapes soft chuckle.

“That’s why you need to open up,” I click my tongue. “First thing first, may I see it?” I beam.

There is slightest hesitation on his face but then for whatever reason, he relents. Then he turns his back on me, granting me with a great view of his back and of course his tattoos. As my fingers gingerly explore the intricate designs etched upon his skin, I find myself captivated by the artwork that adorns him. Beginning at the upper back, near his nape, a majestic ship with its flag unfurled commands attention. Following the contours of his spine, a meticulously crafted clock, its intricate details resembling a perfectly real image, captures my gaze. Nestled beneath the clock, a compass merges harmoniously with bare branches, their absence of leaves adding more questions for me about the meaning of his tattoo. The compass is connected with a simple design gears, but still meticulously shaped and aligned. As my eyes travel downward, I discover a lighthouse gracefully stretching from his lower back to his loin, elegantly encircled by twin anchors. The expanse of his shoulder blades down to the lowest part of back reveals a symmetrical arrangement of bold geometric lines resembling wings, as if those are fences that keeping the art on his spine to be protected.

While I’m staring on his tattoos, my eyes are catching some scars scattered like there is the constellation engraved on his back. The scars that are faint and covered with the tattoos’ ink make you have to get closely to see them. “This is beautiful,” I says while keep stroking his back. “This is painfully beautiful,” I correct my previous word. With the amount of pain for making this masterpiece, I couldn’t imagine how much he needs to suffer.

He turns to face me, there is something in his gaze that I cannot grasp into it. “I will deliver your praise to the creator,” his lips curl and form a smile.

“So many people must want to get in line to see that masterpiece,” I tease.

“I don’t know about that,” his hip is leaning against the wall while still staring at me. “There are only two people this far.”

“Two?” I lift my eyebrows, feeling upset about the fact that I’m the second. “Who are they?”

“The tattoo artist and you.”

I cannot recall who starts this another round of passionate kiss we are sharing with each other; was it me or was it Jake? The only thing that I can remember that I lean closer to him as his hand glides to my lower back and pulls me against him, and just like that… our lips are pressing into each other again. The kiss is little different this time; it’s still sharing the same passion and affection from the previous, but it’s more deep and somehow more desperate.

He pushes my body and makes me being pinned against the wall, not so hard but it’s so gentle. His hands wrap around me as if I’m a fragile thing and he is afraid to cause any harm. The mouth of his tastes so sweet and I’m certainly addicted with the taste and its sensation he puts under me. He pulls down the collar of my turtleneck, making it expose a glimpse of my skin and he claims the land to be his. He kisses, he nibbles, he sucks, as if he is trying to declare that I’m his.

And he succeeds.

As I cannot help myself but escape a soft moan, my hands are clutching onto his shoulder and grasping it tightly. I perhaps cannot think straight under this situation but I clearly know what I want. And I want him right now, so, so bad. And I want to throw whatever things that crossing Jake’s mind, until it makes him pull away and stares at me with those ocean waves that still calmly welcome me.

“Should I stop?”

That question is clearly rhetorical. He is not asking because he wants to stop, but instead he is asking because he wants me to say it clearly what I want. He wants me to say it out loud, that I, also want him as much as he wants me.

“No,” I trace his bare chest with my finger. “I thought it’s clear that I want you as much as you want me.”

“I hope you are aware that I just wanted to have lunch with you,” he inhales deeply and exhales sharply. “And I didn’t come prepared, not at all,” he nudges his nose on my forehead.

“I hope you are aware that I’m always understanding my menstrual cycle,” I’m peppering his neck with kisses. “And lucky you, it’s already passed my fertile time.”

He clenches his jaw with his eyes are staring at me, it’s growing darker as if the desire he has been holding is finally growing bigger and consuming him. But he still hesitates to make a move.

“No way, is it your first time?” I accuse.

He snorts, feeling offended with my accusation, “I’m sorry to disappoint you but you are not my first.” He lifts his brow, showing that cocky grin that I don’t know that he has. “Is it yours?”

“Of course not,” now I’m the one that feeling offended right now. I don’t know why it feels like we are showing off about the fact that we both already had our first time moment in having intercourse with someone else. “Then, why you still hesitate? Do you have STI?” I accuse him again.

“I’m really strict with the person I’m making love with,” he leans closer and plants another kiss on my temple to my jaw and then my neck. “I can assure you that I’m clean,” his hand is slipping under my shirt as he is breathing and whispering on my ear. “Are you?”

The way he said making love instead of having intercourse or having sex—or worst, fucking someone, really managed to make my heart pounding so hard. “Am I what?” I feel like I’m starting to lose my composure as he begins to claim me again.

“Clean,” he replies shortly as his hand that inside my shirt is caressing my skin. I can feel his warm hand again on me. “Are you also clean, MC?”

“I am,” I answer but I’m not sure if the words managed to escape from my mouth because what I can hear is my moan and his deep breath that are born because of his fingers running all over my skin and my thigh suddenly between his legs. As my knees feel weak and start to tremble, I’m clutching onto Jake and mumble, “let’s move to bedroom.”

Note: Don’t do this, fella. Remember what Uncle Ben said, great power comes with great responsibility. Always use contraception! And always put the trash on the trash bin! Do not littering!

[cheritzteam]

[The Ssum] December 20, 2022. To you.

Hey.

This time of the year is back. Again. But I guess making a face all those years did work. No one’s going over the top about it being my birthday soon.

All is good and quiet. Say that I’m being fussy all you want.

Oh, but the carrot cake that Tain sent me wasn’t so bad. Maybe I’ll tell him to bake it routinely.

It’s my birthday, so it should fine to do whatever I want. Or is this a ‘no’? I can never understand the standard people set.

What do you think? Am I being unreasonable, or is it a right I have?

Never mind. I’d rather not care for this kind of thing. That’ll just make me tired.

Anyway…. I just wanted to thank you for wishing me a good one. Yeah.

Tsk, Big Guy is looking for me. He’ll keep whining if I don’t go. I really can’t be bothered, but I’ll go see what he wants for now….

Call me if you have the time. On second thought, call me even if you don’t.

Well, see you.

- Harry

+

Today’s TIP from PIU-PIU!

The Celebratory Lab for Harry’s birthday is still open in the City of Free Men :^) Remember to check your Study Support to not miss out on any gifts! X^D

*If you are unable to find his call, try registering your birthday and job on your Profile page.

[triple-moon-rp]

She rolls her eyes at the "ooooh"ing. If she was baking for anyone else but herself, she would make something with more effort. Like that carrot cake recipe her family would always request. She's made it so many times, she practically knows it by heart.

"Snrk.. Well, excuse me for tryin' to be nice. I mean, I know a little bit of accounting from when I was a freelancer, buuuuut I really don't wanna spend my afterlife doing something so... soul-sucking. I did enough of that when I was alive," she responds a little too honest due to sleep deprivation. She usually tries to avoid talking about herself, even during the mandatory redemption exercises. Can't overshare if you don't talk.

The timer chimes, and she pulls the homely looking cobbler out to cool on a rack. The sweet, fruity smell is even stronger now. It may not be special, but it still brings a great sense of comfort.

She hums with a slight smile, "Mmm... this always makes me think of summer." Returning to her seat, she pulls out the pack of tarot cards she spawned with in Hell, stimming by shuffling them almost meditatively. It seems that she's not paying much attention to him now, "Oh right, you're still here. Well, if I can't do anything for ya, I guess ya better go take care of whatever it is "the Devil" does."

@widdlestwucifer continued from here

Lua blinks at him a couple of times, thinking the answer should be obvious. Well, it's not like she has to tell him every detail. Like how night time is notorious for bringing the worst kind of thoughts and feelings out of her. "Couldn't sleep, and I wanted something sweet. We had stuff to make peach cobbler, and it's easy to bake sooooo," she explains, gesturing at the oven, "That's my answer. Anyhow, I'm guessin' you're in here for a similar reason or somethin'? I mean, if you want some, I guess I could share."