#eh. I’m sleep deprived basically all the time anyway so who cares

[malachitezmeyka]

My cough, cold and headaches always get 90% worse during the night so I literally can’t sleep.. it’s 6 a.m and I haven’t even tried

[voidstilesplease]

telltale

Word count: 1,592... the goal is less than 1k but- | Warning/s: none | Contains: HP Universe, magic, Slytherin!Stiles, Slytherin!Theo. Was going to make this a separate thing, but it's been a while for this tag, so.

---

Having a newly-turned werewolf best friend is taking a toll on Stiles and it's showing - but he's also not about to abandon Scott to his predicament. What kind of a best friend would that make him? So, he spends most of his time now helping Scott through the shift; in remaining semi-conscious even as the moon pulls at his sanity, and in adapting to the enhancements of his senses. Stiles even brews the monthly supply of Wolfsbane potion himself, in the old girl's lavatory in the presence of Moaning Myrtle - the worst tattletale ghost in history. Luckily, Stiles is an expert at bribery. You'd think it was impossible to bribe a girl who's been dead forever, but goes to show how little you know about the world.

Stiles knows what he's committing to is risky, and Salazar Slytherin would have sneered at his display of severe lack of self-preservation if he could, but it wouldn't make a proper Slytherin of him if he turned down a challenge he believes he can win. And he can win this. In fact, he's winning so competently he's perfecting his animagus form without proper training or legal consent - both of which are required for all witches and wizards who wish to become one. It's his way of showing solidarity to his best friend. If his friend transforms into an animal, then he transforms into an animal as well. Albeit, of all animals, he chose a fox, and foxes and wolves tend not to get along. But eh, that's all right. There hasn't been an accident anyway... yet. Also, he has always wanted to do something illegal just to prove that he can get away with it. He always does something illegal, yes, but, like, hosting illicit parties in the Slytherin Common Room has nothing on becoming an unregistered animagus, isn't that right? This thing with Scott is an excellent opportunity to broaden his horizon.

But it doesn't mean it's not without consequences on his social life, physicality (he's still fit, mind you, just lost a few pounds, is all), and most of all, his studies. He knows his chances of usurping the first rank from Lydia is borderline impossible, but he would damn well do everything not to be that far behind her. If he has to settle with second place, he will do so with a hairsbreadth of space between them and nothing more.

But goddamn if he isn't bedraggled, half-unconscious, bloody hungry, and terminally late to his potions class today. None of which would help his academic goal. He'll have to fight tooth and nail to get that 0.5 difference again.

He's lucky it's his Head of House, Professor Laura Hale's class and not Deaton's (who would purse his lips in disapproval, take 5 points from Slytherin, and look at him disappointedly the whole day), Professor Derek Hale's (he would huff and let his eyebrows speak the 10 points he'd take from Slytherin, and make Stiles the dummy for whatever curse they were demonstrating that day), or god forbid, Harris's (he would happily take 50 points from Slytherin without batting his eyelash then and there). Professor Laura would only turn her head away and pretend not to notice Stiles awkwardly sliding onto the seat beside his potions partner.

Merlin, his potions partner. Theo "I know what you've been up to and you better well know I'm gonna use it as leverage when the time comes" Raeken. He can't, for the life of him, guess how Theo knew about the animagus thing when he'd been so careful. Then again, Theo isn't a Slytherin if he doesn't have bags of tricks up his sleeves. Theo has repeatedly hinted that he's aware, and it's another thing that keeps Stiles up at night - well, more than usual. Theo already keeps Stiles up at night without trying. Theo hasn't blabbered yet - Stiles doesn't have to worry about that, at least - because a proper Slytherin would always go the blackmail route. Honestly, Stiles is only waiting for the shoe to drop. It's not like he doesn't have blackmail material of his own against his infuriating housemate. If Theo ever opens his stupid mouth, Stiles will call him out on his hypocrisy. Because apparently, there are two unregistered animagi in Slytherin.

Panting, he enters the room and immediately meets Professor Laura's eyes over the busy heads of his classmates. Wordlessly, she smoothly shifts her gaze away and turns her back to "check" on the progress (or lack thereof) of some Hufflepuff fellow as if she didn't at all notice Stiles by the entryway. Taking the chance (the hint is what it is), he crosses the room towards his partner and exhales loudly in his seat.

Theo is stirring the pot, the concoction quietly bubbling, as he smirks down at Stiles with an all-knowing look. "Long night?"

The git, the absolute bloody bastard. He probably slept the prescribed 8 hours, the prat. Albeit... an attractive one at that. But still the biggest git of all, of course. And, yeah, the most attractive git, loathe as he to admit it. But- Merlin, shut up. Shut up. He needs to bloody sleep and drop unconscious already. Or drown himself in firewhiskey and drop unconscious. For at least 15 hours straight.

Stiles sneers, looking for a clever slight to throw at Theo. He knows he can't insult his potions skills because he's actually decent at it, actually bloody good, the prick. And he can't pick on his appearance because, well, there is literally nothing to pick on about his outside everything, is there? Even that stupid slight graze on his left eyebrow looks fitting on him, like a fashion statement or something, and soon the Slytherin boys would go knicking themselves in their stupid eyebrows to copy him, to be half as echanting as him, to - Merlin. Shut up, for Salazar's sake.

Before Stiles can open his mouth, the onslaught of cedarwood, mint, and chocolate knocks his words back down his throat, and all he's able to do is inhale. Deep. With pleasure. With so much pleasure that it's an internal battle not to drop his eyelids and part his lips for a moan.

For seven years, Stiles has been haunted by it - sleeping so close to the boy who wears the scent that he can't eat a single bar of chocolate without thinking of Theo. It's both a blessing and a curse. Kinda cliche, but kinda true. Absolutely true. Also absolutely a secret.

So, he pulls his face into a sneer once more - as if his brain isn' melting into cedarwood, mint, and chocolate pudding - throwing a glare at his roommate. The long-time bane of his existence, long-time subject of his wanking fantasies (and disgustingly romantic daydreams, but Stiles is not about to address it because then he'll be admitting that shit's getting real), long-time crush. "None of your business," Stiles snaps. He'd like to add "eloquently", but it just isn't.

Theo only chuckles as if he already expected the reply. Or because he is immune to Stiles's attitude after dealing with it for years. Whichever it is, Theo's infuriatingly unaffected. It's so bloody distracting. He's so bloody distracting. Especially to a sleep-deprived Stiles who hasn't had enough rest, meal, or wank for far too long than reasonable.

"Well, make your tardy ass useful then and tell me if the potion smells like it's a flawless brew," he cocks his head sideways, lips slanting to an obnoxious smile, and adds, "Though, I already know it is."

Stiles scoffs (while he inwardly sings praises, because, damn if he isn't hot. Merlin, he needs to jerk off. Twice, in a row. Then drop unconscious. Wake up for dinner and masturbate twice more before bed most preferably). He glances down at the swirling mist coming from the pot and slides his unimpressed gaze back to Theo. "If I can smell anything at all over the entire bottle of cologne you poured on yourself today."

Theo looks taken aback for a moment, five heartbeats if Stiles is not wrong (he isn't) before his face breaks into the biggest, brightest grin Stiles has ever seen him make. Then he laughs heartily, genuinely; his eyes look extraordinarily joyful, and his neck even starts flushing. Stiles would've preened (he totally does inside. He caused that smile, okay?) if he didn't think that he probably did something embarrassing based on the absolute glee in Theo's reaction.

"Well," he drawls, still freakishly happy, like what in Merlin? He's a sight, yeah, bloody gorgeous, but Theo's happiness is usually in tandem with Stiles's distress, you see. It's perfectly rational to be suspicious. Then, Theo pins Stiles with a smug and satisfied look, saying, "I'm glad to know that's what amortentia potion smells like to you."

The statement gives Stiles a pause - more than a pause, he freezes - and he gapes while processing it. It doesn't take more than a few seconds for it to hit him.

Amortentia. Love potion. Today's task is Amortentia - a potion that smells different to each person, depending on what attracts them. And he's just announced that the air around him is basically marinating in Theo's bloody cologne. Salazar bloody Slytherin.

Stiles never imagined ever stooping so low but let it be known that what he does next, he will bring to his grave as his biggest disgrace.

Taking out his wand swift as lightning, he points it to himself for the easy way out. With a murmured spell, he grants his wish and knocks himself unconscious.

His idiocy is future Stiles's problem now. He'll stay bloody asleep for 15 hours straight, thank you very much.

~•~

steo a-z: part 20

[hale-13]

Zero Days Without Incident

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 20 Prompt - Defiance

The ‘Days Without Incident’ sign in Tony Stark’s private workshop has nothing to do with engineering or science mishaps and all to do with a bet between him and a certain Spiderling.

Words: 1783, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan

TW: Stabbing

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Peter you have thirty minutes until your curfew,” Karen warned him, already plotting a course home and throwing it up on his HUD.

It was a balmy spring evening and Peter had spent most of his patrol leisurely swinging through Queens or relaxing on a hammock made from his webs. There had been a few petty crimes he had dealt with, some grand theft bicycle, a cat stuck in a tree but, all in all, he couldn’t really complain. He loved being Spider-Man and helping his neighborhood but it was nice to have a slow day sometimes.

A scream sounded in the distance.

“Spoke too soon,” he mumbled, altering his course and picking up speed. “Can you get me directions K?”

“Of course Peter,” Karen answered, as chirpy and happy as normal, re-routing him away from his apartment and toward the sounds of discourse in the distance. When he dropped in on the scene it seemed to be a mugging in progress and Peter rolled his eyes – didn’t people have anything better to do on a random Tuesday in April? God just seriously rethink your life choices.

“I would say its knife to meet you but I’ve definitely used that pun in the last couple weeks and I don’t want to be accused of not being original,” Peter called down, making both the assailant and victim flinch and look up to where he was perched on the wall above them. “Where did even get that thing? The renaissance fair? Who robs people with a full on dagger anyway? Run out of kitchen knives?” Peter quipped, flipping down and pushing the mugger away with a well placed kick to the arm that made the man stumble back.

“This has nothing to do with you bug,” the man snarled, brandishing the weapon at Peter now and making him roll his eyes. “Don’t get in my way and I won’t have to use this on ya.”

“Spiders are arachnids actually, not bugs” Peter pointed out, shooing the stunned woman out of the alley and on her way out of any potential danger. “And how about you not stab anybody today huh? If you promise to behave I won’t web you to the wall and call the police. Sounds like a fair trade right?”

The man snarled at him with irritation. “You talk too much.”

“So I’ve been told,” Peter agreed easily with a nod. “But what do you say? Ready to give up your life of crime for the straight and narrow?”

“No,” the man grumbled and, with literally no warning, lunged forward and stabbed his knife directly into Peter’s gut.

They both stared at each other in stunned silence before Peter processed the pain with a loud ‘fuck!��.

“You motherfucker,” Peter grunted, backing away to lean against the wall, holding the knife still with one hand so as to not dislodge it. “I can’t believe you stabbed me!”

“I thought you would dodge! You always dodge!” The man said, reaching up both hands to dig into his hair. “I stabbed Spider-Man what the fuck!”

“God this is just-,” Peter grumbled using his free arm to fire webbing at the guy and secure him to the nearby dumpster. “I’ve gone three weeks without having to go to the MedBay! Three weeks! All I had to do was last one more and then I got to pick the movie at movie night for the next month! God I can’t believe it! Mr. Stark is going to be so insufferable now!”

“You could just… not tell him?” The man asked hopefully, not even bothering to struggle against the webs and Peter blew out a breath as he sank down to sit on the gritty ground – he was starting to feel a little cold and dizzy from either the blood loss or shock, he couldn’t tell which. Not that it mattered, his fierce anger overshadowed everything.

“Not an option,” Peter grunted, leaning his head back and closing his eyes against the helpful countdown timer Karen had started displaying the second Tony had entered the Iron Man armor and started jetting to him. “He already knows.” Curse the Baby-monitor Protocol! He and Ned would need to remove it again…

“He track you or something?” The man asked questioningly, head quirked to the side in obvious curiosity.

“Or something,” Peter agreed.

“That’s wack man,” he said. “An invasion of privacy. A, uh… violation of your constitutional rights as a free American!”

“Do you honestly think Tony Stark cares about an something as simple as an invasion of privacy? I’m lucky he hasn’t microchipped me yet,” Peter pointed out. Or, at least, he didn’t think Tony had microchipped him. He’d have to check that and remove it post haste if he found something.

“Dude,” knife guy said commiserating and Peter had to fight the eye roll. Of course the person who stabbed him felt remorseful now.

“I know,” Peter agreed, peering down at his side to look at where the knife was embedded into him. He was pretty good around blood as long as it wasn’t his own and, looking at the way his suit was slick and blood was beginning to pool under his thighs in a puddle made Peter lightheaded so he closed his eyes again. “He’s probably going to be pretty pissed at you by the way,” Peter warned. “He has pretty good lawyers so I wouldn’t have high hopes of getting out of this without jail time.”

The man groaned and Peter just shrugged. Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time and all that – also don’t stab people and leave them to the ministrations of their helicopter mentors. Same thing really. The sound of repulsers neared and Peter braced himself – he wasn’t looking forward to dealing with this.

“I guess that we can change the ‘Days Without Incident’ sign back to zero eh Spiderling?” Tony teased as he landed in the mouth of the alley, disengaging his suit and walking over to kneel next to Peter. “You were doing so good too – your longest streak ever in fact.”

“Don’t remind me,” Peter hissed as Tony prodded around the wound carefully with a pre-gloved hand. “Can you not touch that?”

“No can do buddy,” Tony said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “Gotta anchor it in so it doesn’t fall out on the ride back. Happy’s on his way to pick us up.”

“Oh great,” Peter groused, letting Tony lean him forward a little so he could start wrapping roll gauze around the knife. “He loves to complain when I get blood on the seats.”

“Only when you get impaled,” Tony said brightly, pulling the gauze tight almost vindictively and making Peter wince. “Wouldn’t want to deprive him now would we?”

“You could just let me bleed out and die here,” Peter suggested seriously. “Since my life is basically over now anyway.

“You’re such a dramatic little shit,” Tony groused, tying off the gauze and levering Peter up off the ground to slump into his side for the extra support. “Now say ‘goodbye’ to your friend, he won’t be seeing the real world for a long, long time,” Tony’s voice had an edge of steel as he said this, dragging Peter to the end of the alley and ignoring the muggers ‘Aw man, c’mon!” as they passed. Peter just shrugged a ‘what can you do?” and wiggled his fingers in a facsimile of a wave as he was pulled away.

Happy, to his credit, was efficient and must have already been in the area because he was quick to pull up with a surly look already cemented onto his face as he surveyed where Peter was leaning into Tony and dribbling blood onto the sidewalk in large, heavy droplets. “I already called the cleaning crew,” he told them through the open window. “They’ll be here before the police to scrub up any possible radioactive DNA.”

“Best forehead of security ever,” Tony crooned lovingly as he carefully situated Peter onto the pile of towels Happy had put into the backseat to soak up the blood and keep it off his leather seats. Happy glared at the both of them in the rearview mirror before rolling up the partition. Tony snorted in undisguised mirth.

“How you feeling kiddie?” He asked as he peeled Peter’s mask from his sweaty face. “Not going to pass out on me again right?”

“Uh…” Peter groaned, squeezing his eyes shut tight to stop the spinning and grey dots that were clouding his vision. “No promises. Sorry.” Tony just let out a put upon sigh like he expected as much and pushed Peter to lay down across the seats, grabbing one of the extra towels to press tightly around the knife and making Peter let out a whining moan at the pressure. “Yeah I might pass out,” he said faintly as his vision started to tunnel.

“Go on then,” Tony said, running a hand through Peter’s damp curls and smoothing them away from his face. “At least you don’t sass me when you’re unconscious.” Peter felt the man lift his legs to slid a few wadded up towels underneath… like that would actually help keep him awake.

“Rude,” Peter grumbled before losing his grip on reality – he trusted Tony to take care of things for now.

——————————————

“I hate this movie,” Peter grumbled groggily, as he pulled himself awake some time later. He was lying in one of the beds in the MedBay, attached to a blood transfusion and with a thick padding of gauze on his abdomen. Tony, seated next to him and munching on popcorn, just sent him a shit eating grin and held up the whiteboard that had been hanging in his workshop displaying ‘Days Without Incident’ with a large 0 written under it in obnoxious red ink.

“This is such bullshit,” Peter said petulantly, picking at the tape holding the IV in place. “I can’t escape! Go watch your garbage movie somewhere else.”

“Excuse me you brat,” Tony said imperiously. “The Breakfast Club is a cult classic thank you very much and besides,” he continued, offering Peter the bowl of popcorn, “someone clearly has to educate you on good movies.”

“I’m going back to sleep,” Peter said, flicking a kernel of popcorn playfully at his mentor (and missing damn – he must be on drugs) and letting his tired eyes slip closed again.

“Sore loser,” he heard Tony tease as he fell asleep and that did it. When he won their next bet they were marathoning the whole Star Wars series from beginning to end, including all of the Clone Wars and the Mandalorian, and he didn’t care what Mr. Stark said.

[sweets-r-cool]

Sleepless pt. 2 (Bakugo x reader)

So- it seemed like everyone rlly liked part one- so thank you for that... anyways- I hope this lives up to your expectations but idk just

Part one

One week. One whole ass week of (7) full days.

That was the amount of time you spent ignoring- completely avoiding- Bakugo Katsuki. 

According to him, you were a dumbass. However, you weren’t so stupid as to the fact the last comment he made before he left the gym that night (morning?) was basically a weird, sort of twisted not really but also really a confession. 

The girl he was talking about was apparently a dumbass, you were his dumbass. Your face flushed at the thought.

You kind of hated that it did though. Considering, believing you were the girl he liked also meant admitting you were a dumbass. You kind of were- but that didn’t mean you were willing to acknowledge it.

That was irrelevant. 

Bakugo Katsuki liked you. The angry hedgehog of Class 1-A, who called anyone he didn’t call an insulting nickname an extra, had feelings for you. It was kind of weird. Such an angry existence feeling more than the willingness to deal with you. It made you nauseous, but in the excited sort of way. As well as the super embarrassed sort of way.

Hence why you literally ran an extra lap in training when you noticed the ash blond boy walking over to you. You literally ran away from him. You didn’t even like running.

It was also why you were currently in the same gym room the whole situation rooted from. Pounding your fists against the very same punching bag Bakugo had been that night.

At this rate, it would be like a reverse deja vu situation. It was currently 3:18 AM. Also, you were already in the gym; however, you really hoped it wouldn’t actually be reverse deja vu, because that would mean Bakugo would come to you, and as mentioned before, you were avoiding him.

You didn’t really have a good reason for avoiding him. It was just sort one of those situations you didn’t want to be awkward, but the problem is you knew you’d make it awkward somehow. You and your high on sleep deprivation mind. 

You were still unable to sleep,and it was still because of Bakugo. 

Only now, it was because you couldn’t help the giddy feeling in your heart, stomach, cheeks, and overall existence. It made you roll around in bed smiling and kicking your legs until the adrenaline wore off or until you simply fell off your bed with a squawk from your mouth and a thud from your body, earning an “Are u okay?” text from whoever heard your antics.

You eventually took a small break from punching your feelings away to drink some water. When you did, your phone buzzed with a notification from Instagram.

That was odd. Kirishima wasn’t usually awake at this time. 

You gulped, praying to whatever deity up there that Bakugo wouldn’t be able to guess your whereabouts.

You were glad Kirishima had your back. Even if it did sort of intervene in his role as wing man, you didn’t feel like talking to Bakugo yet. Kirishima was a real one. You’d probably just find a way to yeet yourself into oblivion before that. Even if that wasn’t a very realistic choice.

You stretched your back and yawned. You should be asleep by now, but whatever. Bakugo and Kirishima were awake for what ever reason, though Kirishima seemed like he was woken up by Bakugo. In his words, most likely a ‘so not manly’ move on Bakugo’s part. If a bro is able to enjoy sleep, you should let them. Then again, suffering with sleep deprivation together was always fun. 

You picked up your stuff, deciding that should be it for tonight. You were kind of sore already from earlier today’s training and so adding anymore than this would only make you more sore, which wasn’t ideal.

You walked to the door, casually swinging it open. 

You nearly ran into someone’s chest due to the fact it was clad in a black tanktop which almost blended in with the darkness of the hallway. Luckily, you caught sight of the fair skin attached to the ash blond locks...

What-

Suddenly you felt the color leave your face as your eyes met with deep crimson ones, piercing in the best way possible as always.

Within what felt like the millisecond, your hand reached for the door knob, pulling it towards you with the purpose of slamming it. Only when Bakugo caught hold of it, successfully stopping you, did you decide this was the end. 

You turned around, maybe you could get in a few more good punches to that poor punching bag before you died of embarrassment. You felt a cold sweat replace the natural one, caused by working out and not your emotional state.

How could Kirishima betray you?!

You pulled out your phone.

 Maybe you should tattoo ‘Lysol’ on his forehead instead of Kaminari’s, because that was what he deserved like the bacteria he was. Friendship was fragile as glass, there was no coming back from this for him. He probably just told Bakugo so he could go back to sleep without having to deal with your bullshit. Kirishima was fake. So fake.

That sucked for Kirishima, because now you were going to make sure he felt your pain. 

You meant it. You were coming for his kneecaps- 

“Hey, Dumbass,” Bakugo’s raspy voice stopped you in your tracks as he walked through the doorway. You turned around with a sheepish frown, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

You breathed out harshly, “Narnia?” That worked. In your brain, of course. You were gonna die. Good going, you. 

Bakugo deadpanned at your idiotic answer. His look read, “What the fuck?”

You really couldn’t blame him.

Where was the portal to the void when you needed it?

You straightened, opting to find a way out of this. “Ya’ know what, Bakugo? I just realized, Narnia is that way, since- ya’know, there aren’t any closets here for me to hide in. I mean,” you cleared you throat, “use as a portal.” 

You began to swiftly walk with purpose. Purpose to escape and avoid this awkward interaction. You barely made passed him, the door was so close when he grabbed your wrist, not intending to let go.

You head snapped to his gaze, then down to your wrist and his hand. You laughed, the panic underlying in it clear. “Hey, Bakugo. Just thought I’d let you know, I spilled dumb bitch juice all over me, so you might wanna let go before it spreads-” 

“Shut the fuck up and talk to me,” Bakugo asserted. 

You sighed, standing up normally instead of the previous ready-to-run pose you were in just the second before. “T-talk about what,” you asked coyly.

You could practically see the angry tics for on Bakugo’s temple as his eyebrow twitched. At the same time, his face was dusted with a light blush, which only got your face to turn a deeper, much darker red. Bakugo cupped your cheeks, you flinched and your heart started beating faster.

However, you felt slightly relaxed and also disappointed when all he did was squeeze your cheeks together. Though it hurt a little, it was something your poor heart could take at the moment.

“You fucking- You fucking know what I’m saying, Dumbass,” he said as you managed to pry his hands off your cheeks. 

You sighed, turning away, embarrassed still. “Yeah,” you began to pout, “but what kind of sort-of but not really confession was that, you asshole?!” 

Now wasn’t the time for you to get mad, but you couldn’t tell if it was because of how late (early?) it was or if it was because you weren’t used to talking about love or things like that. It was probably the latter, considering the only other person aside from you who knew about your crush on Bakugo was Kirishima and Kirishima alone. 

It was whatever, you already got mad, there was no going back. 

Bakugo looked confused for once as you turned back around with an expression on your face he’d never seen before. Were you... flustered?

“Don’t look at me like that! I like you, Mr.I’m-good-at-everything-but-confessions! I like you, you asshole, and if your gonna confess do it better,” you crossed your arms, fuming in a more joking way, but your face really was red and no amount of pretending it wasn’t would change that. “So yeah, I like you... now what?”

You couldn’t keep your lips in a frown for much longer as you found your lips curling upwards instead. Bakugo took a few steps towards you, his chest only inches from your own. 

You had to look up at him, due to your height difference, but that wasn’t what you cared about.

Bakugo scoffed, his eyes not leaving yours. Bakugo wasn’t even sure it was possible to pry his eyes from your captivating e/c, not right now at least. “I like you,” he smirked, watching your face deteriorate back into it’s flustered expression, “is that better?”

You huffed, “Much-” you were cut off when Bakugo pushed his lips against yours. Your eyes widened before fluttering closed as you melted into the kiss. 

It was fiery, just like Bakugo himself. It was hard not to smile. The kiss was also sort of needy, maybe it was because you ignored the explosive blond for a whole week, or maybe it was because of how long you liked each other without acting on it. 

It wasn’t something you cared to know the answer of.

There was also one more thing.

You couldn’t tell if you cared or not anymore, but the back of your mind screamed you would still not be able to sleep, too happy to. All because of this dumb hoe, Bakugo Katsuki. It was fine, because now he was your dumb hoe.

~ extra ~

“Sleep deprived as always, eh, Y/n?” Kirishima nudged your elbow, both in a friendly way and to keep you awake.

“Watch your back, Kiri, if you want to keep your knee caps...” you trailed off, glaring daggers into him.

“What?! Didn’t things go well?!” the redhead exclaimed, panicked.

“Yes. They did, but still. >:(”

~~~~

it’s currently 2:21 am for me rn lmao

[nyroom]

The Ghosts of Childhood - Chapter 2

The Pines family adapts to this new change with mixed results. 

[AO3 Link] [Part 1]

All things considered, Stan took the news remarkably well. 

“So you’re sayin’ something came around and turned me into a kid?” He had echoed, scrunching up his face in thought for a moment. “Eh. I guess it could be worse.” 

To be fair, Ford had kept it simple and brief. There was no sense in telling Stan the reason he had gone out in the first place, just as there’d be no sense in explaining every shred of bitterness that had built up over the years. Stan was old, went out, and then wasn’t anymore. Anyone could understand. 

“And we’re your great-niece and nephew!” Mabel piped up, grabbing her brother in a side hug. “Your favourite great-niece and nephew, by the way.”

Ford almost corrected her that they were their only great-niece and nephew (unless there were more descendants of Shermy? Ford would need to investigate that once he was settled), but bit his tongue. For once, it wasn’t the time to play perfectionist. 

“Great-niece and nephew, eh?” Stan tapped his chin, a slow grin spreading across his face. “So that makes me the boss of you!” 

“Well, you’re younger than us right now.” Dipper corrected, straightening out his clothes from his sister’s hug/chokehold. From what Ford could tell, Mabel didn’t do her hugs by half measures.

Stan ignored this point, nodding to himself. “I’m the boss of people… Cool!” 

“Let’s not forget who the older twin is here, technically and literally.” Ford cut in next, shooting his brother a stern look. “So I’m the one in charge right now.” 

That made Stan deflate a little, crossing his arms and huffing defiantly. “Only by fifteen minutes!” He shot back, but kept it at that. For as stubborn as Stan was, that was certainly remarkable. Maybe now that they were farther apart in age, he would finally listen to Ford. 

Ha.

The annoyance passed quickly, Stan’s face brightening with realization. “So if Sixer’s an old man, then I’m an old man too, right?” He immediately rounded on Ford, leaning forward excitedly. “Did we fix the Stan O’War and go treasure hunting?”

Ford’s mouth shut with an audible clack. He had already told himself he wasn’t going to bring up the years of bitterness, but how was he supposed to answer that question without lying? ‘For unspecific reasons, we actually haven’t spoken in 40 years.’ That would never work.

He may be upset with Stanley right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to crush this child’s innocent naivety.  

“You run a business!” Mabel volunteered, saving Ford from having to answer. He wondered if she did that intentionally or not. “And you do have some employees, so you’re basically still a boss anyways!”

Stan’s eyes widened with wonder, childhood dream momentarily forgotten. “No foolin’? Wow! I bet Pa was real proud of me!” 

And here Ford thought it was impossible for this to get worse. 

The excitement in Stan’s expression crumbled a little at his audience’s stony faces, uncertainty creeping back into his features. He looked right at Ford, searching. “...He was proud of me, right? Stanford?”

The scene was so heart-wrenchingly familiar that, for a second, Ford wasn’t an old man with the threat of the world on his shoulders. He was a child, just like Stan, standing in a cave, hiding in a theme park attraction. His twin was so open and vulnerable, looking at Ford like he had all the answers in the world, pleading to tell him he was wrong. 

‘Do you really think I’m a bad kid?’

‘It just sometimes feels like Pa hates me.’

‘Do you know what it’s like being the stupid twin?’

‘I wish just once Pa would look at me the way he looks at you. Like he actually likes me.’

Truth be told, Ford had spent so long trying to bury Stan in his memories that he had forgotten all about his twin’s insecurities. His stomach twisted at the reminder. How long ago had those memories happened for Stan? How long had he felt like that in general? Probably longer than you’d care to admit.

Ford hadn’t wanted to lie to Stan if he could help it. Lies had never been Ford’s strong suit, not like they were Stan’s. Lies were liabilities, a misstep waiting to happen. They were messy and risky and something Ford would rather avoid altogether. Yet looking into Stan’s eyes, he knew he had no choice.

“Not just proud, Stanley. He was impressed.” He said, and his voice didn’t even shake. “You really beat him at his own game.” 

If at all possible, Stan looked even more starstruck than before. He looked back in the direction of the Gift Shop, blinking hard. Ford didn’t need to see his brother’s eyes to know they were damp.

It’s just a white lie. He told himself when Stan turned back to him with a thousand-watt smile. There’s no harm in a white lie or two. When Stan is back to his proper age, he’ll understand.

After that, the questions came at Ford rapid-fire. Really, he should have expected as much.

“So did we really go treasure hunting after all?”

“Yes.”

“Did we find lots of treasure and get all the girls?”

“Yes.”

“Did I open the business before or after we went sailing?”

“After.”

“Where’s all the treasure now?”

“Hidden away to protect it from pirates.” 

“What about the Stan O’War?”

“In a museum. We are world-famous adventurers, after all.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the younger twins exchanging a grimace and pretended he didn’t notice. The children just didn’t understand. It was easier to do things this way. If Stan knew the harsh reality their lives had taken, he may not be so quick to trust Ford and allow him to reverse whatever had done this to him in the first place. Stan didn’t have the emotional capability to handle the truth. This was for his own good.

He also pretended that the giddy smile Stan wore didn’t warm something within him, buried after so many years. 

Just because Stan is this way right now doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven him. I’m still justified to feel angry with him. When he’s his proper age, we’re going to have a very long discussion. 

“I told you it’d happen!” Stan proudly declared, reaching across the table to affectionately punch Ford in the arm. Ford pointedly ignored the memory of the last time Stan had punched him 30 years ago. 

Before Stan could launch into more questions, Dipper awkwardly cleared his throat. “Hey, uh, Great Uncle Ford? Do you think we could have some dinner?”

Right, Ford should have realized. Stan had left around midday and, apparently, hadn’t been back until just now. The children must be starving. That realization was followed by another, more daunting one: Ford would have to cook for them. 

Ford hadn’t cooked for anyone since he lived with Fiddleford, and even then that had been sparingly. Fiddleford had dubbed him a “fire hazard” when he accidentally added vinegar instead of pasta sauce; a clear overreaction. It wasn’t like he had done it intentionally, he had just been sleep-deprived! It could happen to anyone! 

“Of course, Dipper.” He responded, spite burgeoning him with confidence. He could cook just fine, thank you very much, Fiddleford. “You’re actually in luck, I was in the middle of cooking for myself when you all arrived. It shouldn’t be too much to whip up a bit extra.”

If he could survive the multiverse for 30 years, he could handle cooking for 3 children. It was just cooking more, after all. It wasn’t rocket science. What could go wrong? 

----------------------

Evidently, a lot could go wrong. 

As it turned out, leaving food unattended in this house was a bad idea. Apparently, a pig - Mabel’s pet Waddles, Ford learned later - had taken the opportunity to indulge in the unguarded delicacies and left nothing to salvage when Ford returned. Never one to accept a setback, he had merely taken it as a sign that he needed to make something a bit more extravagant than plain old eggs for a family dinner.

After liberally covering the kitchen in food matter, utensils, and soot from a spontaneous fire, the family had made the decision to give the kitchen a much-needed break. This was what had lead to them piling into Greasy’s Diner, tucked into a booth near the end of the restaurant. Mabel tried to assure him that Stan had done much, much worse in the beginning. Ford got the impression she was just saying that to make him feel better.

Truth be told, the idea of being in town set Ford’s teeth on edge. While the Rift may be contained, it was in no way safe. Until Bill was defeated once and for all, he would never stop trying to get it. This made every citizen not only a target, but a suspect as well. They couldn’t afford to trust anyone. 

Ford had almost turned the idea down when it was suggested, but a look at the kitchen reminded him that he wouldn’t be able to provide the proper meal growing children needed. Instead, he settled on lecturing them at length about keeping on guard, making sure to keep it specific enough to dissuade questions and vague enough not to keep Bill’s name out of their mouths.  Worryingly, the children barely seemed fazed. 

Now, sitting in the diner as the group looked over the menu, Ford was struck with another troubling realization. While people were going to address him by his actual name, they were still going to think he was his brother. With Stanley right there, he couldn’t very well correct them, either. Not only that, but he’d need to think of a good excuse for why “Mr. Pines” suddenly had another child. 

Frustration surged through him at the thought and he found himself remembering the resentment he felt earlier today. Damnit Stanley, why do you need to make everything so hard?

Before Ford could entertain that thought further, he caught sight of an older woman in waitressing attire approaching their table. She had a lazy eye, but the eye that remained open was a perfectly boring hazel. Not Bill. Ford could relax a little.

“Stan!” She greeted, smiling brightly at him. “Did you get dressed up just for me?” 

Ford looked down at his clothes and inwardly cursed. If he had had the forethought, he would have taken the time to dress like Stan to compl-- wait a second. 

As he finished processing the woman’s words, he felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Of all the people in Stan’s life that Ford could have met first, why did it have to be someone he had been or was currently romantically involved with? He could barely woo his own partners when he bothered with romance, let alone his estranged twin’s. 

Luckily (or unluckily, in hindsight) for Ford, the woman soon shifted her attention to Stan and brightened even more. “And who’s this cutiepie?” Damnit, Ford hadn’t thought up a decent cover story for the town yet.

“My name’s Stanley!” Stan chirped, puffing out his chest at the compliment. He had always been more receptive to people’s praise, soaking it up like a sponge while Ford shied away from it. Ford supposed it was natural, considering how they were raised. 

 “He’s our younger brother who just got back from a trip to New Jersey!” Dipper cut in quickly, drawing the attention of four sets of confused eyes. He seemed to quail a little under the scrutiny, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uhh… Our parents decided to just send him here too.” 

There was a moment of silence, but only for a moment before Stan answered confidently, “Sure am! I can’t let my big siblings hog all the fun of camping up here.” Ford had forgotten how honed his brother’s lying was, even at such a young age. He hadn’t even stuttered. 

The waitress laughed and, thankfully, took their orders without pressing the issue further. Once she was gone, he smiled gratefully at Dipper. “Nice thinking, Dipper. Great work.” 

The boy flushed at the praise, eyes darting down to the menu as the hand rubbing his neck increased in pace. “Oh, uh! It was nothing… I just figured we probably should keep this under wraps until we get Stan back to normal.” 

Stan nodded his agreement, much more cooperative than Ford thought he’d be. “Makes sense to me, but won’t people wonder where I am? I mean, if I’m a world-famous adventurer and successful business guy an’ all…”

Right then. It would probably be best to get their stories straight before anyone else happened by. Though Ford wasn’t much good at this lying business, he knew the logic behind it. If they were all in agreement, that lessened the chances of conflicting lies, which lessened the chance of confrontation. Confrontation was certainly not something Ford’s skittish heart needed right now. 

“Simple: you’re an adventurer. Though the lull of running a business was a nice reprieve, the calls of the sea were not so easy to dismiss. You set out in search of wonder and new exhibits for your business, ready to fight any who opposed you.” 

Ford expected Stan’s eyes to light up at the very idea. It played into his dream quite handily, harkening back to days spent weaving tales on the beach. He even pitched his voice dramatically for the effect. Instead, Ford was met with a stormy expression, Stan’s lips pressed into a thin line. Ford didn’t understand. 

“An adventure without you sounds like a pretty dumb adventure,” Stan grumbled, picking at the edge of his menu. He refused to meet Ford’s eyes. “Are people really gonna buy that?”

Of course. Sailing away hadn’t just been Stan’s dream, it had been Ford’s once as well. Wherever we go, we go together. He swallowed uncomfortably. 

“Well, of course they will.” Ford reasoned, wracking his brain for a believable lie. “One of us needed to stay back and keep running the Mystery Shack. No good business can just close down, you know.” 

Stan’s scowl deepened, unconvinced and stubborn as ever. Ford found himself sighing in response. “It’s just a lie, Stanley. It doesn’t need to be realistic.”

“If anyone can make something unbelievable believable, it’s you Grunkle Stan.” Mabel pointed out, smiling. “And this time, it’s for a good cause!” 

Stan’s expression wavered at that. “I guess so. And it’s not like it’s gonna last forever…” He nodded to himself, tension easing. “It can’t be any harder than that time I convinced Mr. Carter that I ate roasted seagull for lunch every day. The look on his face was priceless!” 

The air at the table lightened some as Stan began to re-tell tales from their youth. Another forgotten aspect of his brother’s personality came to surface as he watched him, gesturing and speaking with the flair of a showman. Truly, Stan had a knack for public speaking. Ford wondered what else he had forcibly repressed about his brother. 

He might have been able to make something of himself if he wasn’t so insistent on suffocating me. A dark voice murmured in his mind. Ford dismissed it, forcing himself to focus on the present. There would be time to stew in bitter thoughts later. 

Though the children were listening with rapt attention, they were not content to play captive audiences for long. As their food arrived and the group dug in, they repaid Stan with stories of their own from their summer in Gravity Falls. It didn’t escape Ford that plenty of their tales centred around anomalies that he had recorded in his journal, nor did he miss the side glances Dipper cast his way anytime one was brought up. 

He thought back to the first time he had opened his third journal upon his return, flipping through the carefully scrawled blue words. The twins - Dipper mostly, judging on the writing - had certainly been busy this summer. The solutions they posited seemed so obvious when spelled out, how hadn’t he thought of it? 

Stan had been firm in keeping Ford away from the children for their own safety. At first, he could see the logic behind that assertion. While Gravity Falls was a wonderfully weird place, it was also dangerous to those who were unprepared. Yet the more Ford read the journal, the more capable the children became in his eyes. Hearing the stories firsthand merely solidified the notion in his mind. Stan was just being overprotective. 

If they were going to turn Stan back to his proper age, then he was going to need to work with the children, deal be damned. If he happened to get closer to and bond with them along the way, then that was just a logical and inescapable outcome. Stan couldn’t fault him for that, not when it was for his own good. 

Besides, these children were his family too. Stan had no right to hold them hostage from him. 

---------------------------------------------

The past few hours had been such a whirlwind, Stanley was having trouble processing. To start the day on the beach and finish it in a small town smack dab in the middle of a forest? It didn’t feel real. More than once, Stan would dig his fingernails into his arm when he felt like no one was paying attention, just to see if he was dreaming after all. No luck. 

Don’t get him wrong, he was interested in this new life he seemed to have made for himself! His great-niece and nephew seemed really nice (even if it was weird to think that kids around his age were actually younger than him?), and the fact he was a businessman now was an unexpected delight. But it just wasn’t the same without Ford here by his side to experience it with him. 

Ford may be around, but he wasn’t really around. He was older and wiser and sure, he was still the same old Pointdexter, but it just wasn’t the same. Experiencing this sudden environment shift on his own, after doing everything with his twin before, was a change Stan wasn’t ready to face. Beneath the bravado and excitement, Stan couldn’t stop himself from feeling terribly anxious. 

Riding in the backseat of an admittedly neat looking car (“It’s your car, Grunkle Stan!”), wedged between unfamiliar family, Stan could feel those anxieties creeping back up to the forefront once more. He had been to the woods before on a school trip, but never at night. The trees looming through the windows looked dark and foreboding without the sun, like they could swallow you up and no one would hear from you again. He had to resist the urge to shrink back into Dipper’s side. 

Ugh, what kind of wimp was he? Pa would likely scold him if he knew. ‘Belt up, boy. A Pines man doesn’t hide from danger.’ Of course, that thought just made him homesick. What he wouldn’t give to tuck himself into Ma’s arms right about now. 

But Pa was right. He was a Pines man, and a Pines man didn’t hide. He pointedly squashed down his fears and, instead, asked about the pig Mabel had called Waddles. The girl lit up with a dazzling smile and spoke at length about how wonderful he was, showing him picture after picture that she had saved in the pockets of her sweater. Dipper assured him this was only a fraction of the pictures she had, the rest having found a home in her scrapbook. Stan believed him.

Maybe Stan didn’t have Ford here to face this unknown situation with, but Dipper and Mabel made good company. Though he wouldn’t trade Ford for the world, it was nice to have other people to call friends for once. He closed his eyes as he listened to the two talk, allowing himself to be soothed by their voices. 

If they and Ford weren’t afraid right now, then he had no reason to be either.

He hadn’t realized he had dozed off until he heard the sounds of car doors opening. He opened his eyes, blinking blearily and scrambling to get out of the car. Looks like they were back at the Mystery Shack (his business, wasn’t that so neat?). Man, how long had he been out? Hopefully, the others hadn’t noticed.

As they made their way into the house - coming in through a different door this time, though Stan guessed that wasn’t really important - Ford clapped his hands together. “Alright then, Stanley. Let’s get you situated and off to bed.”

Darn. He must have noticed.

“What? But it’s only -” Stan paused, looking over at the clock on the wall “- 8! It’s not even close to bedtime, and I’m not even tired!”

Ford shot him a stern look, looking much more like Pa than Ford. Stan felt himself instinctually straighten. “Let’s say, for the sake of argument, I believe that you aren’t tired. That doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been through quite an ordeal, mentally and physically. Your body and mind need time to recharge. You don’t want to get sick, do you?”

As usual, Ford was making a good point. That didn’t stop Stan from crossing his arms and scuffing the floor with his shoe, most assuredly not pouting. Stan didn’t pout. Pouting was for babies. 

Apparently satisfied with Stan’s silence, Ford turned his attention to the other two. “While I’m attending to that, do you two mind fetching me my remaining two journals? They should be down in the lab.” 

Dipper’s eyes widened at Ford’s request, looking like a kid on Christmas. Were Ford’s nerd scribbles really that interesting? “O-Okay!” He stammered out before turning on his heel, racing out of the room. Mabel was hot on his heels, calling after him to slow down and wait for her. 

Stan watched the two until they disappeared down the hall. “Journals, huh? Isn’t that kinda like a diary?” He asked, turning to where Ford was standing. Keyword: was. Turns out, his brother was already halfway up the stairs. Looks like he had decided to take a leaf out of Dipper’s book. Stan frowned at that and hastened to follow.

Ford stayed quiet as they journeyed through the house, scarcely seeming to notice that Stan was following at all. He looked lost in thought, which Stan supposed wasn’t all that out of place. Ford was usually thinking about something, and sometimes he’d get so lost in that big brain of his that he stopped noticing his surroundings. Usually, that only happened when he was faced with a really hard problem. 

Maybe Stan’s situation was hard too? It seemed hard to Stan, but Stan was never all that bright to begin with. For Ford’s sake, he stayed quiet too.

Eventually, the pair stopped outside a door. Luckily, Ford seemed to snap out of whatever daze he had been in. “Ah, yes, here we are,” He said, opening the door and gesturing inside. “This is your room. You can sleep here while I work on getting you back to normal.”

The first thing that Stan noticed was that it was dark. Maybe it was just because the lights were off, but the dark felt different somehow; suffocating, almost. The curtains on the window were drawn tight, preventing any moonlight from brightening the room. The light that did spill in from the hallway illuminated the dusty air and the general state of disarray the room was in. 

If Stan had to describe it, it seemed sad. Was this really the room he slept in as an adult?

Ford continued talking, sounding way too casual after revealing such a dim place. “Now I doubt you have any children clothes here, but I don’t anticipate Dipper having an issue with you borrowing some of his. If everything goes well, I should have you back to normal in a few days, so it won’t be an issue for long. The children sleep in the attic and I’ll be sleeping in the room down the hall, so we won’t be far if you need anyth--”

“Wait.” Stan cut in, realization dawning. No wonder there’s only one bed. “You’re not sleeping with me?”  

He turned to look straight up at Ford, watching as his brother’s eyes immediately looked off to the side. He had that sad look on his face again, a look that Stan was starting to realize showed up quite frequently now. It made him wonder if he was the one causing that look. 

“No, Stanley.” He eventually said, reaching up to push his glasses further up his face. It was a nervous habit, one Stan could easily recognize. “We haven’t slept in the same room for a very long time. Adults need their own space.” 

Stan wanted to argue that. Ma and Pa shared a room - heck, they shared a bed! - why couldn’t he and Ford? Yet taking another look at his brother, Stan once again remembered that this Ford wasn’t really his. This Ford was basically a stranger to him, and Stan hated it. Sharing a room would probably just make the strangeness even more apparent.

It was Stan’s turn to avoid eye contact, staring into the room instead. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ford’s features softening a little. Soon enough, the familiar six-fingered weight was settling on Stan’s shoulder. The fingers were bigger and rougher now, but the gesture was still the same. It felt like Ford was drawing out the tension through touch alone. 

“I know it’s new and frightening, but I promise you’ll get used to it.” He said, stooping down so he was level with Stan. His lips twitched up into a slight smile. “As I said, I’m not far away, okay? If something happens, you can still come to me. Just because we don’t share a room anymore doesn’t mean I won’t be there for you.” 

Of course, what was he thinking? Ford might be old and strange right now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still his brother. He really shouldn’t be expecting so little of him. Just because he was sleeping here alone didn’t mean Ford didn’t have his back. 

It’s just temporary. The room is weird but you can do this. You’ve taken on worse. 

Stan took a breath and let the weight on his shoulder strengthen him. It was hard to feel afraid when he had someone at his side and a slow, shy smile spread across his face. He turned to face his twin, holding up his hand in mutual solidarity. No matter how many years separated them now, surely this was universal. This couldn’t be tainted by the strangeness. 

“High-six?” 

Instead of immediately raising his hand and completing the gesture, Ford just stared blankly at it. One moment passed, then another, and Stan’s smile began to flicker. Ford had that look in his eye again, that sad, far-away look. Stan decided he hated it more than he hated the room. 

Subconscious now, Stan lowered his hand. Maybe he had been wrong after all. Stan couldn’t imagine it; in what reality could he achieve his dream while everything he shared with his brother was suddenly different? Was it just inevitable? 

“I-I’m sorry, Stanley.” Ford finally stammered, removing his hand from his shoulder to card anxiously through his hair. “It’s been… A trying day for me, too. I hope you can understand.”

Stanley didn’t, not entirely. 

Maybe… Things were just different because Ford had lost someone, too. Maybe he felt this same strangeness in reverse, looking for the adult version of his missing half. Stan didn’t really know how he’d feel in Ford’s shoes, so it seemed probable to him.

Either way, he put on a smile and reached over to put a hand on Ford’s shoulder too. His hand was much smaller and probably lacked the same satisfying, grounding weight to it, but he hoped it helped anyways. “Course I do, Pointdexter,” He lied. “But it’s okay. We can be here for each other, just like always.” 

Ford inhaled softly at the touch, but didn’t immediately move away. Stan took that as a good sign and remained there, allowing the silence to stretch for as long as Ford needed it. 

The moment passed soon after and Ford straightened once more, letting Stan’s hand fall away. Stan understood; Pines men didn’t just sit there and whimper. If you had time to cry, you had time to fight. That was what Pa had always said. 

Feeling lighter, Stan dutifully crawled into the too-big bed without any further complaint. For the time being, he didn’t even notice the heaviness. Now that he was really laying down, the exhaustion that he had been fighting since the diner was returning with a vengeance. He had just enough energy to turn onto his side, looking at where Ford stood in the doorway. 

“G’night, Ford.” He murmured, eyes already closing. 

Whatever Ford’s response was, if there was any at all, fell on deaf ears. Stan was fast asleep before he knew what hit him. 

--------------------------

Far away from the odd little family, in a dimension nothing like theirs, a being contemplates the scene he has just witnessed. The little display was disgustingly saccharine, almost making him sick to his proverbial stomach.

Still, the advantage that had just been handed to him was well worth enduring that little sob fest. He leans away from his handy eavesdropping orb, hands clasped at his back. 

“And here I thought my conquest was going to be difficult.” He thought aloud, unable to stop himself from cackling. After enduring those embarrassing defeats at the hands of those meddlesome twins, this break was exactly what he was looking for. 

It was time to exploit that six-fingered freak’s kryptonite: Stanley Pines. 

[thecorpulentbeagle]

Okujima Week 2019: Anything

Here is the last part of this week-long challenge! The prompt for this day was literally “Anything”, so… who knows what’ll happen?

Here is the fanfiction.net link.

Please enjoy this final part of the Okujima Week 2019 Challenge!

Okujima Week 2019 Challenge:

Dreams:

Anything

-Makoto-

Makoto awoke with a start. The room was dark, indicating that it was the middle of the night. Turning her head instinctively to her bedside desk, she squinted at the digital clock. The time of 3:09am glowed on its surface, though it appeared much brighter due to Makoto’s sleep-deprived state.

She groaned softly, wondering why she had woken up in the first place. She’d been having relatively pleasant dreams, so it wasn’t like she’d been startled by a nightmare.

She slowly sat up, pushing the covers off of herself. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she yawned lightly. Makoto had the feeling that she wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep immediately, so she decided that she might as well get something to drink to quench her slight thirst.

She quietly moved her legs to the side of the bed, taking in the plush sensation of the carpet on her bare feet. She stood, swaying slightly.

As she made her way out of the bedroom, she thought back to the dreams and smiled.

“I must be feeling particularly nostalgic tonight,” she murmured, opening the door and making her way to the kitchen. She ran a hand through her hair, wincing at how unruly it was. “It would be nice to go one night without tangling my hair up in a thousand knots.”

She took note of the nightlight in the hall, appreciating its soft glow. Though she’d mostly gotten over her fear of the dark, it was nice to not be in pitch-black darkness.

After a few more minutes of slowly walking through the hallway, she found herself in front of the fridge.

“And here we go.” Makoto opened up the appliance, blinking slightly at the light that streamed out of it. She located a bottle of water on one of its shelves, and quickly snapped it up, twisting the cap off.

She took a long sip, using her free hand to close the fridge door behind her.

Once she was satisfied, Makoto made her way over to the table, sitting down in one of the wooden chairs. She knew that she should probably make her way back to the bedroom, lest she either stay awake the rest of the morning, or pass out in the kitchen. But at the moment, she found that she didn’t really have the energy to do so. Instead, she took another sip of water.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Luckily, Makoto had finished taking her drink. Had she not, she surely would’ve been choking on it now. She whipped her head around quickly to see Haru standing in the doorway behind her in her pajamas, smiling gently.

Now that she had located the source of the sound, Makoto calmed herself. “No.” She gave the other woman a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

Haru shook her head. She slowly made her way over to Makoto, her fluffy pink slippers making her steps silent. That explained how she had been able to sneak up on her.

Haru stopped at Makoto’s side, bending over and gently kissing the top of her head. The action sent a warm and content feeling fluttering through Makoto’s chest.

“How are you awake, then?” Makoto murmured. She angled her head so that she could look up at Haru.

“I’m not sure. I just happened to wake up, and felt that you weren’t there.” She giggled. “I wondered whether or not you were already getting ready for your day.”

“Three in the morning is a bit excessive, even for what I do.” Makoto gave a slight chuckle.

Haru nodded at her statement. She took a seat next to Makoto, though she turned the chair so that she was basically across and facing her.

Makoto took hold of her hand, squeezing gently. “I had a rather wonderful dream.”

“What about?”

“A number of events, actually.” Makoto took another sip of her water. “I dreamed about the time when I first asked you on a date.”

Haru squeezed her hand back. “Ah yes, I remember that.” She giggled again. “And I wouldn’t say that you asked me. I think I’m the one who actually labeled it as such.”

Makoto rolled her eyes. “I suppose you’re right. I was so nervous, I could barely form the words.”

Haru took the water bottle from Makoto’s hand and took a sip. “I remember you telling me that it had been a bet between you, Ann, and Ryuji.”

“Shameful as it is to admit, that was the initial reason.” She smirked. “And I believe that was my water.” She made to snatch the bottle back, but Haru moved it out of her reach.

“But I’m terribly thirsty.” Haru took another sip, winking at her.

“I suppose I’ll have to allow it, then.” Makoto returned to squeezing Haru’s hand. “I wouldn’t want my girlfriend to die of thirst.”

There was a silence as Haru continued to sip at the now half-empty water bottle, Makoto watching her. The only sound that could be heard was the hum of kitchen appliances.

“I also dreamed about the time you made coffee for me.”

“Which time? I happen to make coffee for you even to this day, you know.”

Makoto laughed. “I would never forget that.” She cleared her throat, which was desperately missing the source of liquid it had grown accustomed to. “One of the first times you brewed a cup for me, and you told me a folk tale about dancing goats.”

Haru giggled. “I see. I thought that was a rather cute story, myself.”

“Hm.”

“What else did you dream about?” Haru set the bottle down on the table, evidently finished with it.

“Our times back in the Metaverse.”

“Ah, yes. I miss being a part of the Phantom Thieves sometimes.” Haru smiled sadly at Makoto.

“Agreed.” Makoto raised Haru’s hand to her lips, giving it a quick kiss. “I dreamed about the time that I first taught you how to drive.”

“In Mementos?” Haru asked. When Makoto nodded, she shook her head. “That was a particularly harrowing experience. I was worried we wouldn’t live to see the next day.”

“Because of the Reaper, or because of your abysmal driving?”

Haru smacked the other woman’s arm, which caused her to laugh. “The Reaper! Honestly, you and Mona-chan still tease me about my driving. You know as well as I do that I successfully obtained my driver’s license.”

“After the third attempt.”

“Yes!” Haru sighed. “Did you possibly dream about something that wasn’t insulting to me?”

“Of course.” Makoto smiled. “I dreamed about giving you the key to my apartment.”

Haru squeezed her hand. “I definitely remember that day. That was one of the sweetest gestures I’d ever witnessed.” She leaned forward and gave Makoto a kiss on her cheek. “And we did end up moving in together, didn’t we?”

Makoto nodded. “I would say so, unless you somehow broke into my home in the middle of the night.” The two laughed.

“I mean, we did break into Palaces all the time back then. I suppose I could’ve retained a few of those skills now.” Haru winked at her.

“Be careful what you say, dear,” Makoto teased. “I can’t very well ignore threats of illegal activity, being an officer of the law and everything.”

“But you couldn’t arrest me,” Haru quipped back. “There would be a riot outside of your office if the head of Big Bang Burger was arrested. Production might be interrupted, and how would the general public obtain their fast food then?”

“I never thought cheeseburgers would be my downfall,” Makoto murmured.

“Of course!” Haru giggled. “Besides, I would have plenty of information about your past that your coworkers might find… of interest.”

“Blackmailing a police officer, eh?” Makoto rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Alright. I think it’s time to head back to bed before you can commit any other crimes. I can only overlook so many, you know.” She gave Haru’s hand one last squeeze before letting go and standing up, taking up the nearly empty water bottle and draining it.

Haru stood as well. “Sounds like a plan.”

Makoto placed the empty bottle back onto the table, intending to take care of it later in the morning. Before Haru could get too comfortable thinking she had won their little back-and-forth, the officer decided to do one more thing to tease her. Turning to face the other woman, she knelt down and slid an arm under her knees. Before Haru could register what she was doing, Makoto stood back up and brought her other arm behind her back, lifting her into the air.

Haru gave a squeak of surprise. “W-what’s this all about?”

Makoto smiled. “Just getting you back for all the times you made fun of my awkwardness in romantic relationships.” She gave her a quick peck on the lips.

Haru gave her a confused look. “Did you dream about that as well?”

Makoto nodded. “Yes. I dreamed about the time when I injured myself in that aikido tournament, and even though I was in pain, you couldn’t resist flirting with me.”

Haru snorted. “I was legitimately concerned for you! Besides,” she gave a peck on the lips as well, “you seemed to be fully recovered by the next day, if the following night’s events were any indication.” Her eyes twinkled.

“Ah. You thought you could embarrass me.” Makoto chuckled. “Perhaps you could have a decade ago, but we’ve become much more acclimated to intimate moments after all these years.”

“You’re no fun, Mako-chan.”

“Perhaps.” Makoto nuzzled Haru’s head with her own. “Let’s get going, anyway.”

Haru nodded. “Yes. Onward, Mako-chan!” Haru cheered, pointing forward.

“I’m not a dog to mush,” Makoto grumbled good-naturedly, walking slowly to keep Haru balanced in her arms.

“Are you sure you didn’t dream about that as well?” Haru asked. She nuzzled her head into Makoto’s shoulder. “It seems like you had an experience with everything in the universe tonight.”

“When was the last time you remember me being a dog?” Makoto maneuvered into the hallway, taking care not to bump her girlfriend’s head on the wall. She would never hear the end of it if she did that.

“But you did, didn’t you? You haven’t said no.”

Makoto chuckled. “Not exactly. I dreamed that I had a dog Pokémon, though. A Growlithe,” she added after noticing the puzzled look on Haru’s face.

“Is this because you were playing Pokémon last night?” Haru giggled.

“Who’s to say? You were there too, though. You had a Meowth named Mona-chan.”

Haru smiled. “That seems perfect. I’m sure he’d appreciate being a cat in a completely alternate universe as well.”

“Well don’t tell him I said that.” Makoto winked conspiratorially.

After a few more minutes, Makoto had made her way back into their bedroom. She walked over to the bed, bending over to gently lay Haru down onto it. As she stood up, she felt hands on the front of her shirt, pulling her back down. She eagerly complied, finding Haru’s lips on her own. She moved a hand to cup the other woman’s face, feeling Haru resting a hand on the back of her head.

They stayed this way for a minute before Makoto pulled back. She said nothing, but simply looked into Haru’s eyes, her hand that had cupped the other woman’s face now stroking her cheek. Her heart beat just a little bit faster when Haru leaned into her touch.

“I… know that we tease each other more often than not, but I want you to know…” Haru smiled at her. “I truly appreciate you being in my life, Makoto. More than I can really ever express.”

Makoto smiled warmly back. “You’ve always been so sweet, Haru. I care so deeply for you, it’s sometimes hard to believe that this is all really happening.” She ran her thumb down Haru’s cheek one last time before walking over to the other side of the bed. On her way there, she paused and gently removed Haru’s slippers. She tossed them onto the floor.

“Thank you,” Haru murmured. Makoto nodded at her, making her way over to her side of the bed.

When she arrived, she lifted the covers and slid in, settling down next to her girlfriend.

Makoto smiled to herself when she felt Haru snuggle up close to her, moving her head in between her own head and shoulder. “Good night, Makoto.” She could feel Haru’s lips on her neck. “I love you.”

Makoto moved her arms up to squeeze Haru closer to herself. “I love you too, Haru.”

Even though it had been ten years, Makoto could honestly say her passion for Haru burned just as brightly as it had on the day she had first confessed to her.

Noir had stolen her heart. And Queen had stolen hers as well.

Perhaps this was the real meaning behind being a Phantom Thief.

Done! This story actually started out being really hard to write, and then it all just came to me as I wrote.

Did you like my plan? I thought having Makoto remember all of these events in a dream would be a neat way to tie all of the one-shots together. The order that Makoto mentions the dreams is the order in which they occurred in their reality, though they happened out of order in real life due to prompts being what they were each day. The explanation behind that is that people sometimes have dreams that are jumbled up or are out of order.

Something I wanted to point out. I was very careful to make sure neither one said “I love you” to the other in all of the other one-shots, since they had only really just started dating. Haru said something to the effect of “I love how you do…” something or other to Makoto (and Makoto talked about taking care of loved ones), but I didn’t want them to say those three important words until they had really been together for a while.

Thank you again for everyone who read my stories! It was fun to write these seven one-shots, and it was great to see others do the same. I think this pairing will always hold a special place in my heart, and I can’t wait to see how its portrayal will evolve in the future.

Happy Okujima Week 2019 everyone!

[wannawrite]

Siloso Vibes

who?: Wanna One’s Ha Sungwoon genre: 🌸 type: bullet point, part of Christmas collab wink wonk blog navigator. • part of the collab with @onlyjihoonsand@hwinkinghwi • a day at Sentosa with Sungwoon + added Christmas spirit finally writing something for Sungwoon :”), never got a request for him before so I’m happy - Admin L posted late out of respect for Jonghyun. Admins will officially return on the 25/12 Rest in peace, king. you did well. forever and always in my heart. 

• Sentosa • first, I need to explain what Sentosa is and what there is on that island • so Sentosa is an island off the coast of Singapore, linked to the mainland by a bridge • everything there is built on reclaimed land • which is basically throwing sand into the sea to form a platform • I think so • yeah • okay • ‘babe,’ someone says, waking you up from your sleep. ‘Come on, wake up.’ • oh, it’s Sungwoon • who let him into my house? • WHO • I NEED SLEEP • oh yeah, my parents are completely in love with him so I can understand why the gladly opened the door for him • Ha Sungwoon had your parents wrapped around his pinky finger • he finally took a trip back to your homeland after graduation • let me explain • you had flown to Seoul, South Korea to further your university education and there, you met Sungwoon • you guys started going out in Junior year • everyone shipped it • Daniel owed Jihoon $10 • Jaehwan was so touched, he composed multiple songs for both of you • and some were on his debut album • oooh • recently, the both of you had graduated university • CONGRATS TO THE CLASS OF 2017 • AND TO EVERYONE STILL STUDYING, KEEP GOING AND WORKING HARD • YOU GOT THIS • YOU WILL MAKE IT OUT ALIVE • burning the midnight oil writing papers and feasting on instant noodles at 2am was all worth it to hold that 4.0 GPA in your hands • uhh…maybe • possibly • I’m sure its GPA calculated there • sorry, no wifi to check right now :( • right after your graduation ceremony • you ran back to your dorm, packed up whatever was left and met Sungwoon in the campus carpark • he was decked out in full tourist attire • floral beach button down • board shorts • fanny pack securely tightened around his waist • and of course • he just HAD to wear his Birkenstocks • of all of his expensive shoes rotting in his house • his Birkenstocks • at least they weren’t Crocs • you were grateful for that • at least that • I have nothing against Birkenstocks • I guess they just aren’t my style • but Sungwoon still looked like a freaking buffet so you weren’t complaining • he’s probably that young guy who can pull of the ‘dad look’ really well • you know • random coloured t-shirt • or polo • jean shorts? kakis? • white high socks tucked into sports sneakers • or moccasins • maybe pairing Adidas socks with Nike running shoes • can’t forget that leather fanny pack • or a black dad hat • sometimes he would trade that for a snapback or sun hat • okay that’s enough visualising weird images • brain: Sungwoon with that Prince Eric black hair, golden circular spectacles, in a white button-down with the first few buttons open and tight-fitting black slacks • me: SCREAMS • THROWS MYSELF OUT OF A WINDOW • you know that iconic Jimin black hair part? yeah, that one. that would look SO good on Sungwoon • he’s sort of Jimin’s brother anyway • let’s move on • shall we? • Sungwoon as Prince Eric though • super frickin’ hot • ENOUGH • so you two threw your stuffed suitcases into your car trunk and sped off to Jaehwan’s mansion • that’ll be Sungwoon’s car’s house for the next month • some of your friends are there chilling out, still clad in graduation gowns • they’re like ‘what’ • after explaining, they wished you a safe journey and kissed both of you goodbye • Sungwoon left a 23-page journal on how to care for his car • in case Jaehwan had no idea • he was reassured when Minhyun mentioned he would be living with Jaehwan until his apartment was ready • Sungwoon’s car would be safe in Minhwan’s hands • hopefully • Jisung and Daniel drove the two of you to the airport • helping with the luggage and all • Jisung pushing Daniel on the trolley that’s actually meant for baggage • snapping pictures like fansites • ‘hi I’m starting a Sungwoon fansite, I’d like to call it Smolwoon.’ • angry chilli padi Sungwoon activated • he’s so small but spicy I love • ready for takeoff • taken off • RUN DANIEL RUN • is there a sungwoon fansite with that name? please link them if it exists • if not, feel free to take the name • or smallwoon • and tell me about it! • you and Sungwoon eventually get checked in and everything • after hugging Daniel and Jisung of course • video calling the rest of your friends to say goodbye • Jisung almost shed tears • wow • imagine of Seongwoo was there • drama time • flights are such a blessing, I personally love flying and travelling • slept on the flight in Seoul • woke up in Singapore • hELLO CHANGI AIRPORT IT’S SO GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN MY LOVE BEST AIRPORT IN THE WORLD • YOU’RE DOING GREAT CHANGI AIRPORT • it was so cute to see Sungwoon half stumble off the plane • because he had an amazing nap • he emerged still sleepy-eyed and clearly freshly awoken • I’m talking bed-head, trying to cover up his puffy face with glasses and a mask • but he looked refreshed and well-rested so all is well • it’s important to sleep properly! • says the one who stays up to 2am to watch Master Key • Master Key is really addicting, I’ve never been so whipped • you guys managed to get a cab • around 1am three days ago, you got to your house after Sungwoon was dropped off at his hotel • because your house didn’t exactly have a guest room and sleeping in your room was a huge no-no • so you called and talked to him until 2am • how the hell did he wake early enough to get from Ritz Carlton to your home • what even • Sungwoon wasn’t one to wake early • he loved his sleep • and his pre-bed skin-care routine • speaking of which, his skin was effortlessly glowing • hmm, must be a change of weather • ‘BABE!’ Sungwoon yelled, shaking your blanket-clad figure. ‘WAKE UP!’ • was he…okay? • why does he want to deprive me of sleep? isn’t he supposed to come and cuddle with me? • :( • oh! • IT’S TODAY • ‘Aren’t you excited?’ Sungwoon whines, sitting on the edge of your bed. ‘Today’s going to be so much fun!’ • ‘and tomorrow,’ you mumble, still half asleep. ‘Are you not jet lagged? I feel like    I got run over by a truck.’ • SG translation: I kena truck langar • Sungwoon laughs, beaming brightly, sparkling like a total angel • ‘I am but I conquered all to come see you~’ • ROMANTIC • he’s such a hopeless romantic but pretends he isn’t • just a vibe • ‘see,’ he says, pulling up his Uber app to show you his new ride. ‘I even took an Uber here myself, and I spoke to the driver with slang and English.’ • you guys are probably using a mix of Korean and English to communicate btw • it’s so fun speaking in two languages • like you can interchange words into sentences • and no one around you will know what you’re saying • and when you speak dialect, it’s like your communicating in a secret code • for me at least • heh • you guys never had qualms speaking in both languages • for Sungwoon, who had pored over his English notes night after night so he could increase his fluency level, independently taking an Uber with a mainly English speaking driver was a huge deal • friendly reminder that English is not the only language in this world and people should not be obliged to learn/speak it. • it may be a commonly used language and more prominent but that still doesn’t mean everyone has to abandon their culture and switch to English • also, that Kpop, Jpop, Cpop, Cantopop, Bollywood, any other non-native English speaking idols/groups do not need to speak English to be valid • goes for anyone for that matter • :)))) • let people appreciate their cultures and languages • yay okay back to the story • the reason for Sungwoon’s excitement and eagerness • ahem..peculiar behaviour such as rising early • your itinerary for today was a day at Sentosa • more specifically, Universal Studios Singapore • can someone please go with me? • tomorrow would be Adventure Cove • should there be a part two for this? tell me, please • moving on… • it’s the most wonderful time of the year • to visit Universal Studios • well, the queues even at 10am in the morning proved you wrong • but we shall backtrack a little • how you got out of the house? • Sungwoon practically dragged you out of bed • threw you into the shower • saying that he would get your breakfast ready • you tried to battle the morning heat and wake up at the same time by taking an icy cold shower • WAKE UP • emerged refreshed and ready to roll • sort of • Sungwoon was sitting in the living room, talking to your parents • no sucking up needed to win their favour • especially since he helped to prepare your breakfast • ‘oh babe, you’re here! I packed your breakfast in a lunch box in case we didn’t have time.’ • so prepared I can’t • pulls a MOTHER • Sungwoon mum mode: activated • I know Jisung’s the mum but Sungwoon is probably the grandmother, mother or 帅叔叔 [handsome uncle] • flashback when Xuan described San E as 怪叔叔 [strange uncle] • I’m cackling • maybe Sungwoon could be a strange uncle too • eh • he strikes me as that • ‘see,’ he says, patting a stuffed tote black. ‘I even prepared all the things we could need. Umbrella, raincoat, sunscreen, moisturiser, bb cream…oh! This is a new kind of energy drink Jaehwan recommended!’ • hmmm….Jaehwan recommended • okay then… • your parents are SWOONING • WHAT A WELL-ORGANISED MAN • probably has an organiser in that tote • ‘uhh, okay. thanks, babe. so, mum and dad, we’ll be making a move.’ • your parents insist you update them every few hours • and they take a picture • like a prom picture • don’t blame them, they’ve only seen you and Sungwoon over Skype calls and Facetime • you guys hug them goodbye • ‘LET’S GO’ Sungwoon yells, tossing his tote into the backseat of your Rover • maybe some other car because Rovers are unreasonably expensive here • everything is unreasonably expensive here • ‘VROOM!’ • you speed off towards Sentosa. • in the ticketing queue, Sungwoon insists on applying a thick layer of sunblock • you hold his mirror • and then he does it on your face, purposely not blending it • asian beauty standards are like: • pls stop whitewashing • and idolising fair/white skin • dark skin is beautiful and should be deemed normal and acceptable too • anyway • at least he blended the cream properly before you approached the staff • Sungwoon couldn’t stop yelling excitedly as he entered the gates • he was amazed by every single little thing • CHRISTMAS SONGS • CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS • CHRISTMAS SPIRIT • santa hats everywhere • he does have Lotte World • but this was a whole new universe • ;) • Sungwoon’s hand envelopes yours and you two happily skip to the first ride • ‘what about Transformers?’ • ‘sure!’ • honestly, the queue for this ride is so ridiculous • luckily, Sungwoon keeps you entertained by taking a ton of Snapchat filtered selfies • Snow filters • making memes • Facetiming a tired Jihoon - time difference • who wishes he tagged along • he screams a lot during the ride • and screams after about how much fun he had • you two go on a couple more rides • got chased by a T-rex and got a bird’s eye view of the park • burnt to a crisp by a fire-breathing mummy before the roller coaster plunged backwards • went on a safari adventure and nearly got eaten by a crocodile • these are some of my favourite rides tbh • went along for a boat ride with Madagascar animals • ‘yo Sungwoon are you sure you’re tall enough to ride this?’ you tease playfully. • he pouts • yells a bit • before securing his red baseball cap on his head and confidently marching into the queue • ‘watch me.’ • ‘small is spicy.’ • after, you guys ended up buying ice cream • salted popcorn in a Minion container • Sungwoon calculated the expenses to the very cent • he’s either the guy to drop $1000 in a blink of an eye with no hesitation • or drop his friend off before the ERP [a system you pay - using cash card - to use a certain road via vehicle] because he wants to save that $2 • this happens to my friend irl lol ^ • you guys even purchase matching Santa hats • even though those at the mama shop are SO MUCH cheaper • Sungwoon persuades you to buy matching shirts too • ‘uhh are you really sure you want to buy that shirt for Guanlin?’ you questioned, pointing to the shirt in Sungwoon’s hands he got from the children’s section • ‘oh shush I know my son through and through, he’ll love it.’ • ‘….he’s almost 18 soon-‘ • ‘nope!’ Sungwoon exclaims, clamping a hand over your mouth. ‘No, no. His 8th birthday just passed.’ • poor Guanlin • Sungwoon and Jisung are going to feed him banana milk for the rest of his life • ‘what about Daehwi? He’s your son too.’ you point out his bias • ‘…well, he’s Jisung’s son right now because the sun is still out but I should buy my babies matching shirts too right?’ • ‘babe, help me choose one!’ • you guys spend at least half an hour haggling over shirts • which colour one would match Daehwi’s skin more? • wait, this is the exact colour of Guanlin’s eyes! • …this t-rex reminds me a lot of my sons • bet, Guanlin looks like this when he wakes up • *ends up spending much more than anticipated* • Sungwoon takes a brave step and agrees to ride the Battlestar Galactica:  Human Vs Cylon • two of the major roller coasters here • ‘woon, are you sure you’re over 125cm? you need to measure your height again…’ • *167cm* • ‘HAH’ he grins triumphantly • sighs • is confident • and brags about how he loves roller coasters • until he’s standing behind the metal gate, waiting for the cars to come back and all the screams from the previous riders can be heard • ‘uh babe are you sure you want to sit in the first carriage? I can always ask them to change our seats if you’re scared.’ • *bats eyelids* • you nearly fall for it • then, you gently push him to take his seat • ‘WAIT NO MY THING ISN’T CLICKING SHUT’ • a staff has to help him secure his barrier • he takes a deep breath • ‘I’m more nervous then when it was my debut-‘ • *yelling begins* • *yelling pauses* • Sungwoon nearly passes out • after,,, ‘THAT WAS SO FUN LET’S GO AGAIN BABE.’ • you guys stay there until almost closing time • cue staff trying to chase you out • ‘the night is still young.’ • so, you take a trip to Siloso Beach to watch the sunset • munching on fries • you rest your head in Sungwoon’s lap, his hands playing with your hair • the waves crash against the beach, the sunlight glimmers against your skin • ‘this is so different from Korea…’ Sungwoon mutters, almost to himself • he kisses your forehead affectionately, causing a smile to pull at your lips • ‘I like spending this kind of Christmas with you too.’

[kimpossiblygorgeous]

Sleepover Essentials: Because Adult Sleepovers are the Best

My bonding time with my girlfriends consists of brunch or dinner whenever we’re all at the same area, quick coffee dates, or something big like going on a trip once in a while. But for me, the best fun happens at a sleepover in your friend’s place (or yours), pillow fights optional. There’s something about sleepovers that’s intimate, which guarantees to always bring you closer together whether it’s the first time or it’s like you are roommates already.

Anyway, I’m the kind of person who likes to be prepared all the time (aka the checklist girl) and here are my essentials to a super fab girls' night in. You won’t see the obvious basics like toothbrush and a change of clothes here, okay? But please pack those and let’s proceed.

Make sure you take everything you need with you, hygienic-wise, in a toiletry kit. I have here the Lipault Toiletry Kit in Amaranth Red. Aside from it being large yet cute with a retro style, I like its framed opening that allows you to see everything stashed inside.

Next is actually an obvious basic – underwear. But I hope you exercise a conscious effort to choose your best ones to bring so that you will not freak out about your girlfriend seeing your granny panties. This Avon Cotton Panty Pack provides optimum comfort and style, just perfect for sleepovers. If this is not your style, they also have seamless and lowrise, to name a few, available at The Avon Panty Store.

Let’s move on to liquids! But not the kind you’re probably thinking. *ehem booze ehem* It’s time to get relaxed and cozy for a movie marathon, make your skin comfortable too. Use Biore Micellar Cleansing Water, available in Moist Up and Oil Control and in smaller, travel-friendly bottles too, to effectively remove makeup in a breeze.

If you are the host of the sleepover, you also have to think about snacks and drinks (still not the kind you’re thinking lol) to serve to your friends. It’s nice to stock up on Gerolsteiner Sparkling Mineral Water as it’s a thirst quencher with a twist. It’s fizzy but not like a carbonated soda and it has a unique nutritional balance of calcium, magnesium and bicarbonate, which cannot be found in regular drinking water. You should try this!

For my nighttime routine, I currently enjoy these products from independent, local shops. The RMK Whitening Deodorant is technically a deodorant but I still apply it on my underarms before going to bed for its toning and whitening properties. And then the Aryana Beauty & Body Creampie and One Night Stand (naughty names, eh?) are night cream and bamboo charcoal mask respectively. Because friends who take care of their pores together, break a lot of hearts together. Kidding! I also like that they come in teeny tiny containers, it’s like they are made for sleepovers.

As cliché and that’s-only-in-movies as this may sound, no sleepover is ever complete without nail polishes and painting each other’s nails. So yeah, bring your favorite shade with you. But if you’re up to try something revolutionary, because it’s 2017, I suggest trying the Gelish Dip Mani & Pedi available at Beauty & Butter before settling in or in the morning after. It gives a gel nail look and longevity without the use of a UV lamp, just some magical powders.

Speaking of the morning after, Palmolive Naturals White+Milk Body Wash is a delight to use especially for a sleep-deprived body (because the chismis was too long last night). It actually feels like lathering lotion on your skin and the fragrance is mild, fresh, and long-lasting. You may get free samples of this at Sample Room.

And lastly, the Smink Beauty Blush Blush Beauty tints are really good pick-me-up. Apply a little on your cheeks and lips, tap tap, and BAM happy glow achieved! It’s available in Sugar Rush (Pink), Headturner (Red), and Flustered (Peach), stays for hours, and locally-made. It’s Kimpossibly Gorgeous approved!

--

That sums up my list, gorgeous ladies. Let me know in the comments what are yours.

BLOGLOVIN  |  FACEBOOK  |  TWITTER

[heddofon-akuta]

This Evening

Characters: Takane, Haruka Ships: HaruTaka Genre: Hurt/comfort, romance, fluff Rating: K Word count: 4000+

Tomorrow story about a girl who, finally, tells the truth. 

Today, I was tired.

I was so tired, and I wasn’t even sure why. I mean, yeah, I stayed up late—but this kind of tired was way worse than normal (which was saying something, at least for me.) I wanted to cry at the simple idea of opening my eyes; I’d long since decided I wasn’t getting out of bed today. However I was soon rudely provoked otherwise by a voice that had entirely different plans in mind.

“Good morning, Takane. ♡” That soft, however cheerful sound echoed in our otherwise silent room. I didn’t need to look to know whom it belonged to. If the sun was up and about, so was he. “Or should I say, afternoon!”

My boyfri—  I, I mean, my, lov—wait. My, romantiii—…?  Ugh. My… 

Haruka.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” he said in a sing-song voice. Normally, I’d have just ignored him, but he pulled the window’s drapes open, and the sun rays poured brightly across our formally darkened room. Loudly, I hissed—then shielding my face with my blanket. 

“Leave. Now.”

He emitted a small disappointed sound as I felt him sit on the edge of my bed. “Don’t be like that,” he said softly, making my feelings of resentment seem almost trivial. “You should really get up—at least for a while, okay?”

“No,” I said adamantly, “I’m tired.”

“You’ve been asleep for fourteen hours.” He pulled the covers off my face, looking at me with a worried sort of expression that was hard to say no to...

But, being myself, I found a way.

Again hiding my face, I growled. Appearing on the wide-screen TV mounted across the room, a drastic change in my voice was heard. “Ahhh, you’re so needy!” Floating upside-down, I lazily kicked my feet (or rather, lack there-of) back and forth. I wasn’t keen on any measure of consciousness right now, but at least I wasn’t on the verge of physical exhaustion like this. “Are you happy now?”

“You know what I meant, Takane,” he replied, sounding concerned. “It’s not good for your body to stay in bed for so long. Inactivity breeds inactivity, you know?” (Pul-lease. I was inactive for two straight years. I’ve all but perfected the art of being dormant; at this point, I’m basically a pro.) “You should get up, and get some exercise.” (No.) “We should go somewhere, or do something fun!” (No, no, no.)

“Yeah, and we can do that with me in your phone!” I brushed off his suggestion. “And besides, don’t you think I’m just so much cuter like this?” I tried to bait him—using my hands to frame my face as I bat my eyelashes in his direction. Vague attempts at flirting were a lot easier behind a screen, I had to say.

“Hmm…” He looked back and forth between my real body and the screen a couple times, eventual to conclude, “Nope. Because Takane’s always adorable.”

Y’know...?

It didn’t matter if I was real or virtual—when he said stupid things like that, he never failed to make me flustered. “Y-You—!” I puffed out my cheeks and pouted at him in annoyance, and he seemed to preemptively know I was about to fuss at him, because he cut me off.

“In fact, you’re so adorable,” a somehow innocent sort of smirk (an expression only he could manage,) flickered across his visage, and he leaned down to hover over me slightly, “I think I could just kiss you.”

“…W-Wha—?!” 

Even though it’d been a few months now, since we’d gotten into a… relaaation—this… this, relay—ugh. 

It had been a few months since we’d gotten, eh-hem… together, (—was it possible for a human-turned-anime-esque virtual entity to throw up in its mouth a little bit? Because I’m pretty sure I just did—) but I’d had yet to find the courage to so much as kiss Haruka’s cheek thus far. My virtual head started spinning just thinking about it. 

While he certainly gotten close (what with his face being not an inch from mine,) I stopped him before he could do anything. My eyes snapped wide open, and with my heart racing a mile a minute now, I clasped my hands over his mouth and pushed him away. 

Did he really just embarrass me into waking up?

“A-Alright, alright! I get it!” I glared.

With his mouth still covered and his voice muffled, he was cheerful to ask, “So you’ll get out of bed?”

I nodded in defeat, to which he seemed delighted. I soon realized that any sort of movement provoked a headache from my irrational sleep deprivation, but I could only groan and sit upright. He was sure to give me a good-morning/afternoon hug—which I specifically didn’t return. I wanted him to know just how inconvenient he was being. 

But, of course, he didn’t seem to get the message as he went on without concern, “I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Not hungry.”

“You should eat anyway.” (What are you, my babysitter?) “And you should change out of your pajamas. I’ll even help you brush your hair before we leave,” he told me, putting his hand atop my head before running his fingers through my waist-length mess of tangles. I felt my face heat up, but as I was still too out-of-it to complain; I could only stare in annoyance as he soon disappeared out the doorway.

After he was gone, I put my fingers to my lips, reflecting on what’d just happened—both his gracious attitude... and my bitter one. Despite technically being together, ours hardly seemed to qualify as a real relationship. There were still so many... things, we’d yet to do, and, perhaps more-so—so many things I’d yet to say. 

I groaned, pushing all related thoughts to the back of my mind before flopping back down on the bed. Despite everything, I somehow only felt more tired than before.

Regardless of my constant whining for an alternative, he eventually convinced me to go for a walk. He’d said he’d had a nice place in mind—that place being fairly peaceful and quite with all things considered, as it was somehow isolated from the rest of the city. Naturally, to that—I didn’t argue. 

However when we got there, I could only look upon this place with a vacant visage, as if surprised. I got a strange kind of feeling upon gazing at the sky projected above the green landscape; it felt like it wasn’t the first time in my life, that I’d stood in this exact spot. I mean, I guess... it probably wasn’t? 

After all, it was that little hill next to the high school we used to attend.

As Haruka made his way to the hill’s peak without me, my confusion shifted something resembling distress... or desire—but I could only cant my head to the side, trying to understand the situation. It was as if there was something important to be remembered here, but I just wasn’t quite sure what that was.

“Aren’t you coming?” Haruka asked, looking back at me.

“Ah,” I responded softly, “Yeah.”

Regardless of was escaping my mind, the area was otherwise tranquil as promised. It’d be a good place to kick back and listen to the radio for a while, but... glancing over to Haruka from the corner of my eye, I couldn’t quite bring myself to physically put my headphones on. 

Regardless, still resentful, I didn’t engage him in conversation, but he didn’t seem to notice or mind. As per usual wherever he went, he brought it sketchbook, so he was occupied.

Shifting my gaze, I glanced down to the paper. He seemed to take notice, as he hid the picture against his chest, wearing a distinctly guilty expression. Quite fittingly, in fact, as I’d seen enough to know what he was doodling.

“What have I told you about that,” I narrowed my eyes, to which he, naturally, grew downcast and discouraged.

“But… I love drawing you.”

I felt a sudden fluster, having never quite realized the fact for some reason. I growled at him, visibly angered—then crossing my arms with a huff. I turned away, so he couldn’t see my face. “Well, I don’t care! Draw something else!”

“Hmm…” he pondered for a moment, not letting my mood get to him too extensively. From the corner of my eye, I saw him look around, eventually setting his sights. It wasn’t long before I heard the sound of his pencil tracing across the page—but just to be safe, I waited a few minutes before looking back to him (...but I swore to God—if I looked over and saw the back of my head on that page, I’d smack him right in the fac—)

Oh? “What’s that?” I asked bluntly. It was a strange sort of picture that I couldn’t quite make out yet. (Oh, gosh—don’t tell me it was an abstract picture of the back of my head?) However he didn’t seem discouraged by my untrained eye, as he only smiled and held his sketchpad out at arms length—comparing his picture to the original subject. 

“It’s the sunset, see?”

“…Oh. Oh, yeah, I kinda see now,” I replied.

Suddenly, I realized how late the day had gotten. I must’ve slept a really long time… and yet—

I was still so tired.  Why did I have to be this way? 

The thought only proved to make me more upset, so naturally—throwing some of that pessimism Haruka’s way—I asked, “Isn’t it kinda impossible to draw something like a sunset with just one color?”

“Eh? You think so?” he tilted his head a bit. “Well, I say it’s only as impossible as you make it seem,” he stated in contradiction, pointing his finger in the air.

I shrugged, because, well—what did I know, right? Guess that’s why he was the one with the sketchpad here. Though I was pretty sure it had more to do with my sour attitude (which, naturally, didn’t stop there.) I only continued to discourage him, or maybe I was just testing how far his optimism went. “It just seems boring to me.”

Even though I’d all but insulted him just now, he hardly seemed phased; he just laughed my comment off. “Then I’ll make sure to bring colored pencils next time, so you like it more—okay?” To which I narrowed my eyes—feeling oddly annoyed as he suggested going out of his way to please me. Regardless, he went on to explain, “I just wanted to draw the sunset today, too. Since I couldn’t draw what I really wanted, I picked the next best thing,” —he could’ve sufficed in saying, but naturally—that wasn’t enough for him. He laughed quietly to himself, as if he preemptively knew how I’d react to his next statement. He smiled, timidly holding his sketchpad against his chest.

 “It’s close, but even the sunset couldn’t be as beautiful as Takane.”

“Eh?!” I shouted... to which he laughed once more, and I instantly smacked his sketchpad out of his hands. I hissed in his direction, fixating a harsher kind of glare. “Stop laughing, idiot!” 

He didn’t. “But, I mean it!” he said.

Bitterly, I tried my hardest to hurt his feelings. “W-Well—! I hate the sun!”

Reading me like a book, he was forward in explaining myself to me with a smile. “When you say you don’t like something, I know it means you love it.”

I was caught off-guard and was without words for a moment. “I… I do not,” I finally said... perhaps only furthering his point. “Whatever! You’re just an idiot!”

“And when you act mean like that, I know you don’t mean it either.”

“Wh-What?!” I stuttered, offended, as if I had no idea what he was talking about—to which he only smiled as if he’d proven me right. I wasn’t entirely sure, but I think this is what the “Haruka” equivalent of smugness looked like. I grit my teeth, growling at him. Even though he was just being honest, it made me bothered. I leered at him and stood abruptly. “Whatever,” I muttered in frustration. Turning back in the direction of the base, I’d decided I’d had enough “physical activity” for today. “I’m too exhausted for this.”

While I didn’t want him to try to stop me, in the back of my mind… I was silently hoping he’d follow. And as if on cue, he seemed to have known that—as I heard him pick his things up before soon trotting at my side.

Without permission, he reached for my hand to hold. Though I was kinda relieved by it, I jerked my arm away regardless. I could’t let him think he was off the hook. But, again, he didn’t seem bothered by my behavior at all—as I was surprised to feel him reach for my palm once more. I gave him an apparent questioning look, as if I was saying, “What are you doing, don’t you know I’m mad at you?”

But acting as if nothing was abnormal at all, he only smiled sweetly in reply—a smile that still resentfully made my heart race to this day. In fact, it made me feel… kinda light-headed. Regardless, I only made myself feel worse, as I tore my hand from his once more.

And again, he reached for it.

...Why? Hadn’t I been nothing but a rotten brat to them like I have today? I mean, hadn’t I done everything in my power to push him away all afternoon. With a glare plastered to my visage, I didn’t give myself the chance to think before shouting my first reaction in his face. “Can’t you take a hint for once?! God, I just can’t stand you some days!”

I expected my words to injure him, but he just stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes in a way that looked somewhat pensive, or maybe just blissful. Acting like my rage had no validation, he gave me that angelic smile once more.

“I know, Takane.” I recalled our prior conversation; as if on cue, he put his hand to my cheek. “I love you, too.”

Hearing him say that, feeling the gentle touch of his hand—it sent chills down my spine, and a drowning wave of emotions over my head.

How can you excuse my behavior so easily? It makes me so mad; if you acted this way to me, I’d punch you in the face and never speak to you again. Your attitude makes me furious, outraged, disgusted with anger.  You’re such an idiot.

I just wanted to start screaming at him like I often did—shouting my frustrations for him to hear. But, just like always, that didn’t feel right.

Instead, tearing my hand away again— I said something even worse.

“Then why didn’t you know I was in love with you two years ago?”

And to that—suddenly, terrifyingly, that look of understanding had all but disappeared from Haruka’s face, replaced with his utmost confusion. “Wh… what—?” he stuttered—to which I looked off to the side, and once more toward the peak of that hill, though he no longer stood at the top. I took a step back from Haruka.

“You’re such an idiot...”

And... at the same time, you make me so happy, I feel as though I’m about to cry. What did I do to ever deserve to be so happy, with you?

Unable to slap any kind of filter over my mouth at this point, I didn’t have the willpower to control anything I said.

“Maybe if you weren’t so stupid, I wouldn’t have been so stupid!” He flinched a bit as I smacked the sketchbook out of his hands once more. “Maybe we wouldn’t have died if you had just realized it sooner—!”

“T-Takan—”

“—because you know I basically died because of it, right?!”

His eyes widened with fear; mine was a statement to which he took a visible step back. Hearing myself after a momentary lag—tears now burned on the corners of my permanently unpleasant eyes. 

Truly, however, my death was the farthest thing from my mind right now.

Even now, I was just looking for yet another way to pin the blame on him. He’d done nothing to deserve such harsh words—not this evening, yesterday evening, and even tomorrow’s too. Ever single day, he was doing everything in his power to make me happy. He did that just by being himself…

And there would never, ever be an evening where I deserved any of it.

I knew the reason, that ours hardly felt like a real relationship... and it had nothing to do what we had or hadn’t done. Believe it or not, It was because what I hadn’t said either. Of course, without the truth, our relationship hardly was one...

But, moreso, even with the truth, it hardly was one.

“You know… you died because of it, right?”

For what was maybe the first time in my life—it was nearly impossible to lie. 

“I was… pretending to listen to my headphones—“ I said though the tears, and it sounded so stupid when I said it aloud, “because, I… I wanted you to notice me, to ask for my attention.”

When a person immerses themselves in their own world and someone around them starts doing something else, they can’t help but feel lonely, right? Yeah—talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

“Y-You… you had a stroke, and I could’a done something about it. B-But, I just…!” I should’ve stopped. It felt like I was going to start hyperventilating, and I needed to catch my breath—but I didn’t let myself. “I just ignored you the entire time—!”

Confessing it aloud made my chest throb, but I’d never quite know what a hurting heart felt like—at least, like he did. In response to all this, he hadn’t said a word; the moment was otherwise silent besides my audible sobs.

“Haruka. You died…” I paused, finally forcing myself to mutter through my tears, “because of me. You died, you literally died, because—”

Because I wanted your attention, because I ignored you, because I just couldn’t tell the truth.

“—because I loved you.”

Both mentally and physically, I felt disgusted. Cowardly, I couldn’t at all look his way, and I was somehow surprised to feel Haruka reach over after a moment—gently placing his hand on my shoulder. Suddenly, I felt my adrenaline start to rush once more, because for some reason, in this god-awful situation—he was the one who was consoling me.

I jerked away from him. I turned around as if to run off, but he stopped me in my tracks—grabbing my wrist firmly. “Stop it!” I demanded, and while he wasn’t anything close to aggressive, he just didn’t let me overpower him this time—and he pulled me into a secure embrace. Naturally, I did everything in my power to try to break away from him, pushing and shoving him while I hissed through gritted teeth. “Get away from me!”

God, just get it over with. Just hate me alread—

“—Takane!” he finally said, his voice cracking and sounding alarmingly distressed—so much so that I was caught off guard and I ceased in my struggling. It just enough so he could pull away and look at my face. His eyes were glowing red, undoubtably so he was strong enough to deal with the currently difficult me—but what was more alarming were the few tears that were streaming down his face.

For the first time in my life, Haruka was...  crying in front of me.

And just when I though I couldn’t get any more surprised, he leaned forward as if he had no control over his actions. I froze instantly, my eyes wide and staring without focus. With a moment of realization setting in, I was instant to calm down—because just as gentle and innocent as he was a person—Haruka kissed me.

My heart raced a mile a mine. Eventually, my eyes narrowed to a close to match his, and forgetting everything that happened up until now—I kissed him, too.

He pulled away, just enough to speak—and what he said seemingly made no sense at all, but for some reason, I think I believed him.

“Takane… it wasn’t your fault.”

I’d imagine he’d opened his eyes to look at me, but upon being unable to do the same, I finally realized why I felt so tired today—and that was because, I didn’t feel much of anything at all. My body included.

After a moment, I heard him say my name quizzically, the tone of his voice suddenly growing more distressed. Just as I was about to fall to the ground, Haruka caught me before I could.

For the first time since getting my physical form back, I was having an attack... At what might have been the literal worst time possible.

He knelt, propping my body against his chest. He said my name a couple times, shaking me a bit, and the only reason I knew was because I’d instantly transferred myself to my phone. I peeked up at him from my own pocket; he seemed to take notice, giving a weak smile as he reached for me. I attempted to hide, though I didn’t have anywhere to go. I whined a bit as I held my sleeves up to cover my pouting face.

“I’m sorry.” Looking down at my unconscious self, he (almost guilty) added, “I... I shouldn’t have done that.”

With anyone else, I’d be aggressively vocal in agreement. Even with him, in most cases, I’d be in agreement. But, truly, his physical actions weren’t what caused this to happen, but rather his words.

My arms fell to my sides, I didn’t bother to flaunt my virtual persona. The tone of my voice reflected that of physical body’s. “Even if you don’t blame me, it was still my fault.”

Again, the look on his face fell to concern. He was silent for a moment, though it looked as though he had something he wanted to say. He stopped looking at the phone, only to look down at the “me” he held in his arms. He reached up, brushing the hair from my eyes.

“No, Takane, it wasn’t” he finally said. “I, I was going to die,” his words passed with slow and hesitant intonation, perhaps more serious than I’d ever heard him, “no matter what.”

My eyes widened, the pixels around my mouth shifted to a gaping expression. Confused, I could only mutter my response. “W...What?” To which Haruka gazed off to the side, as if he couldn’t bare to look at my real nor artificial face. He grit his teeth, seeming hesitant but sure to continue.

“And what’s worse, I... I knew it. I had known it for years—long before I even met you.”

I stared blankly. For a program of seemingly artificial intelligence, I don’t think I could quite comprehend the meaning of what I’d heard. Overwhelmed, it was my first reaction to blurt all the questions coming to my mind. “W-Why? Why? Since when? How? Ah, ah—“ With digital tears forming in the corner of my virtual eyes too, I could only ask in fluster, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to, Takane—but I couldn’t,” he was instant to explain, gritting his teeth with a pained expression. “I could only tell Shintaro-kun, because something about the idea of telling you just... made my heart stop even faster.” He grit his teeth with a pained expression, as if remembering something. After a moment, I knew why. 

“Maybe it’s for the same reason I didn’t… I didn’t realize how you felt. Because I knew... I was going to die, and I couldn’t be with you.”

A confession to which I choked on my words, unsure if I felt more or less guilty than before. My breath hitched, as I was unsure of what to say. Thankfully, Haruka did.

“Takane...” he exhaled my name, “if there’s one thing I’ve never wanted, it’s for you to blame yourself. Because we died together, I have the chance at a real life, with you.”

It took me a moment to understand his meaning, but the moment I did, I felt my cheeks heat up. My real cheeks. I felt my consciousness somewhat regainable. Slowly, I opened my eyes, still damp from tears, and looked up at him. He returned my gaze with red irises, which made sense as he soon stood, holding me in his arms like a bride.

His final statement left me with yet another new sensation throbbing in my chest. Without a second thought, I reached up, grabbing Haruka by the collar, pulling him into another kiss. After a moment of mutual surprise, I felt his hold around me grow my firm, as he cradled me tightly in his arms. He kissed me back.

Feeling bold for what might’ve been the first time in my life, it was all but impossible to restrain myself. But, also, for the first time in my life... I didn’t feel like I had to.

“You’re not the reason I died, Takane. You’re the reason I’m really alive for the first time in my life.”

[igcttabe]

bcssbitchs​:

WILL HAD A PLAN. as of now, that was a plan that he was not going to share with anyone, not even his wife, because.. um, matt boswick had potential. no, he wouldn’t be as good of a partner as mark hoffman was going to be, but.. did anyone knew angie garza better than this idiot did? yes, ZEKE liked to think that he did, but.. at this point, will was absolutely sure that he did not. he was a fucking scumbag, after all.. and this guy? well, maybe he could work with him. first, though, he needed to make sure he got his heart broken. SHOULDN’T BE HARD WITH EVERYTHING THAT WAS GOING ON, NOW, SHOULD IT? “oh, sorry about that. didn’t mean to sneak up on you. are you alright, man? you look a little pale, right now.” not like he had done the first time, when he had kidnapped him and.. nearly killed him? yes, but.. then again, it wasn’t like he could exactly say that. eh, who the hell cared, anyways? “YOU JUST WENT THROUGH A STRESSFUL SITUATION. believe it or not, it’s pretty damn normal. they teach us that much at the academy.” of course, will was choosing his words carefully, because eventually, this idiot would see he deserved so much BETTER than angie fucking garza. who the hell knew? maybe he’d even help him get rid of the bitch, one day. “YOU DON’T NEED TO APOLOGIZE,” he moved forward, giving the other’s shoulder a squeeze. it was meant to be reassuring and friendly - same as he had won over his last two police partners. with a lot of fucking patience, will was sure that there wasn’t anything in the world that he could not do. especially this - this guy was basically DESPERATE for someone who wouldn’t just think of him as a second best. as a second choice and in a way, he knew what that was like. HE DID. “i’ll tell you what - how about i treat you to a coffee? shop’s just down the street and.. i don’t know, you look like you need someone to talk to.”

“YOU DIDN’T.” he hadn’t or at least matt was completely OBLIVIOUS to the fact he would want to in the first place. “so don’t apologise, you have nothing to be sorry for.” offering him a KIND smile even if it was short lived as he brought a shaky hand to rub at his neck again. “it was a ROUGH night, I didn’t sleep but I’ll live… sleep deprivation comes hand in hand with my profession.” he teased, not wanting the other to worry about him but no things weren’t good… ESPECIALLY after his fight with bos. could it be worse? “STRESSFUL?” he chuckled a little, nodding his head even if it had been a lot more than that. “i get what you’re doing and… THANKS.” he appreciated what will was doinc, he also knew that most people would have these SIDE AFFECTS after being seconds away from being brutally murdered but.. doctors are ALWAYS much harder on themselves. “and I kind of do owe you an apology… ive been this MESS since we’ve meet. promise, im not always like this.” the hand on his shoulder was a COMFORT, he hadn’t known he needed as he placed a hand briefly on top of wills just as a way of saying thanks before he removed it again. “a coffee? sure, that’s just what I need and plenty of it too.” trying to smile. “I’m that obvious?” he flashed a bigger smile that lasted less time than his previous one did. “I’d appreciate that,” because he did need someone. “after LAST night I just feel…” don’t cry, hell never want to speak to you again if you do as he blinked back tears and cleared his throat, quick to get to his feet in hopes to create a DISTRACTION from his glistening eyes. “I feel alone.”

[non-sequitura]

I have some sort of dumb essay idea.

Let me bullet it out and see if I feel like fleshing it out later: 

-Trouble with research is you need to get specific, not broad 

-Most ppl go into fields because they like them broadly. Like, I enjoy a few specific things in bio (stem cell research, plant anatomy (if that's even a thing)), but that’s basically it. After taking a chem class to see if premed was smart I NOPED out of there. Because why suffer through a bunch of content you hate to get to one specific dream eventually? 

-SO with psychology. Much more fun because I like nearly all of it. However, as with most subjects I enjoy (as opposed to those I like a few bits and pieces of, like math or bio or maybe even english), there isn't really one part that stands out to me as MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE. 

-Similarly with piano — it took me like 12 years to realize that my favorite part was the collaboration. Chamber music, accompaniment, covering requests, the like. When it comes to general solo repertoire, music theory, composing, w/e, I’m like “give it to me! I like all of it.” And without parents/teachers giving me things to focus on, I probably would have happily bumbled about in music without specific goals and not have the level of playing I have today. 

-But with research, the best way to stand out is to pick a niche and become an expert in it. So your knowledge becomes marketable bc you're pushing human knowledge and not just prettily rehashing mostly known things. (Maybe this applies to other jobs, too? Specificity can be key, at least in super white-collar things. You don't need to be THE BEST at plumbing a particular type of tube to be a groundbreaking plumber, for instance, but if you market yourself as a techy archeologist or a bilingual activist, the specificity will probably open doors rather than close them.) 

-The issue is, I think few people actually enjoy being jack of few trades, master of one. People stress over being "jacks of all trades" because they worry their lack of SUPER WORLD CLASS SKILLS in one thing will lead to not standing out in the workforce or others not respecting their abilities as much, etc. But I think very few people (except those with somewhat obsessive personalities) actually set out to be THE BEST at one thing. 

-It's lonely at the top. If you truly know more/are better than everyone else at one thing, who are you gonna talk about it with? Being a master is an act of altruism, more than anything. Others may respect you, but you'll only be able to truly connect your field with others who are extremely knowledgeable about it. 

-That’s why so many people ask about hobbies rather than the ins and outs of one’s career. I also think it’s why so many academics (and maybe other professions) become disillusioned midway through their careers: “Yeah, I’m successful, but for what?” They feel trapped. And academics when they write books don’t tend to do one more thing on topology or whatever, they try to pin down the whole MEANING OF THE UNIVERSE (look at Stephen Hawking, Neil deGrasse Tyson, Jordan Peterson, David Foster Wallaces’s books. They tend to be about global, nay, galactic perspectives.) Because people aren’t satisfied knowing that they’re smart in their one niche topic that maybe a few thousand other people understand; they feel smart when they know ALL THE ANSWERS. 

-Which I think is a holdover from being one of the “smart kids” in childhood and finding almost everything easy. (Partly why some “spiky” prodigies actually did quite badly in school, because other things didn’t hold their attention as much and they were discouraged. I have a family member who qualified for the USAMO but did “eh” at a ton of random other classes in school that didn’t hold their interest.) 

-Basically, I want to live a rich, varied life. I want to conduct therapy. There’s one thing I wouldn’t mind being the best at, because it would let me help the most people. Then again, I’d think it’d be kind of a waste, because the more great therapists there are, the more people can be helped. So I’d want to mentor others to learn therapy. And I’d want to run/be on the board of a nonprofit that focuses on some issue I care about a lot today (probably youth negligence or parenting or being trapped in the banality of life, who can say.) 

-And I’d want to teach. And to live in a foreign country in my youth, before I settle down and it becomes impractical to move. And maybe even conduct research, or at least stay up-to-date on the latest academic journals. And I’d want to have a family and friends and sometimes go on ridiculous trips with people I love, and keep up all the hobbies that destress me like reading, writing, cooking, drawing, music, voiceover, generally philosophizing. And by the time I’m old I’ll probably have picked up some old person hobbies like gardening or whatever. 

-So that would be my ideal, successful life. The trouble is, I listed… 17 things. And I’ll probably only have time to keep up 5 or so. I keep an organizer by all the subjects/hobbies I’m working on at one “section” of life (the current section being winter quarter). There’s currently 7 activities - 3 classes, 1 job, 2 for the arts (piano/theatre), and 1 for various applications I’m filling out which feel simultaneously terrifyingly relevant to my future and also super far off and a distraction from my current activities. Anyway, 7 is… a lot. Probably too many. I’m barely managing at the moment, but I always stretch and I always do manage. 17 would be impossible.

-I want a rich, varied life where I’m a jack of all trades, but I’m barely managing an ace right now (haha! card puns.) I wish success wasn’t so… based in obsession, I guess. Is that an unreasonable thesis? I suppose I’ll only know after I read this when I’m less sleep-deprived. I’ve disagreed with nearly all my english theses so far a year after writing them, so I wouldn’t be surprised if king of all trades Sequitura looks back on this junior year and goes, “Oh you poor child. I have everything figured out now.”
 But at least it was fun to write. 

(This is messy af.)

-1/11/21