#except im at the tech table so now he's blocking my way out of the row and i keep having to get up

[thedarklyblue]

i want to KICK someone !!!

[ladybugsfanfics]

A Cacoethes For Doing Stupid Things | Steve Rogers

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Style: One Shot

WC: 4.1k+

Warnings: mutal pining, some angst, dumbasses, maybe some swear words

Summary: This is for @buckysknifecollection​‘s writing challenge, which is due today so I’m right on time, huh? My prompt was “That’s not a real word.” and it will be bolded in the story. 

A/N: i know im not too active currently and im kinda sorry, but ive been sick for the last week and im tired and struggling to write, but im doing my best and hopefully i have more coming soon! Thanks for sticking with me anyways ^_^

“It’s easy.” Sharon stands at the head of the table, blocking the previous shown pictures of the male the team’s supposed to gather information on. “Well, except the getting into the location part.”

Natasha reads through the guest list for the event; a gala on New Year’s Eve in Paris. Her gaze flickers up from the papers to you for the split second of a moment, then they go back down into the paper. And then she does it again, but instead of going back to the paper, they land on Sharon. “I have an idea.” 

“Shoot.” 

“Steve is on the guest list.” She turns the paper around and slides it across the table towards you. “Someone could be his plus one.”

You shake your head. “He’s retired. Why would he agree to be a part of a mission?” 

“He won’t be part of it,” replies Nat, “he’ll just be the gateway inside.”

“For one person. What about the rest of us?” You cock a brow. 

Nat smiles, or rather smirks. “You’re the one going in. And if you do your little tech thing and hitch yourself up to his phone, we’ll get more information than we could ask for.”

You don’t hide the sigh that travels through your body. “Why me?” 

Sharon and Nat share a look you don’t like. And you know their next words before they leave Sharon’s mouth. “You got a little history. The world already knows, plus, the world doesn’t know you’re a SHIELD agent, they know Natasha is.”

“Dammit,” you whisper under your breath. “Have you asked Steve? I’m not doing that part.” 

“Considering we just thought of it, no, but don’t worry. He’ll say yes.” Nat winks your way as she stands and walks out of the room, phone already in hand and pressed to her ear before she’s out the door. 

You let out another sigh, give Sharon your patented displeased look, and follow Nat out of the briefing room. Steve saying yes wasn’t exactly the part of the plan you were worried about. 

---

“The plan is simple. You go to Paris, act like a couple, get into the gala, find the target, plant the device on his phone, have a good time, act like a couple, mission done.”

Sharon’s words haunt you during the car ride to the airport. There is just something so annoying about having to spend this much time with the person you thought was the love of your life but then went on and broke your heart instead (and then tried to get it back but you weren’t having it). 

Because of Steve’s retirement, you have to take a commercial flight to Paris. He’d also booked a room for three nights; the night you get there, the night before the gala, and the night of the gala. 

And the best part is that you have to spend all three nights with him there to keep up the appearance and not alert that this is a mission. That’s not the easiest thing when you haven’t talked to someone for well over half a year. 

Bucky helps get your luggage out of the car (a suitcase each), and he gives Steve a hug and a pat on the back before he moves to you. He pulls you in for an embrace and you relax into his touch. “Give him hell,” he whispers. 

You scoff. “Kidnap me instead.” 

“Sorry, no can do.” Bucky pulls out of the hug and you shake your head in disappointment. “Don’t do anything stupid. Either of you.” 

Steve nods and you try for a smile. “We won’t,” says Steve. The two of you watch as Bucky drives away, and then you head inside. 

Neither of you say anything during the check-in, nor anything during the security control. First as you’re waiting by the gate, and the silence settles as awkward because (despite you pulling out a book) neither of you have anything to do or occupy yourself with, does Steve say something. 

“I’m sorry you have to come along like this.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t think about asking Tony for a private jet, but I’m also a tiny bit happy about it because that means less emissions.” You shake your head and try to read the words on the page in front of you. It doesn’t work. They swirl around like a bowl of alphabet soup, but you’re not gonna show that because you really don’t want to talk to Steve unless you have to. 

Thankfully Steve doesn’t push it, and it’s not long before they announce that boarding can start. You both get up, grabbing your carry-ons and walking to the line already made up. It’s now the problem really starts; now you can’t even have a book as an excuse not to talk to him. 

Act like a couple .

God, Sharon’s voice is a pain in the ass. You’re supposed to make the appearance that you’re a couple, but you can’t even have a normal conversation. You’re also standing with too much space for that to seem true. 

Your heart hammers inside your chest, but you still make the move to grab Steve’s hand and intertwining your fingers. He looks down at you, wide-eyed, but in a moment, he’s trying to suppress a smile. You can see the contours of it on his face, and you wish you could wipe it off. 

You also wish you didn’t enjoy it so much yourself. 

But you get to let go as you get onto the plane, and you don’t make a move to hold it again on the move there and to your seats. You do slightly enjoy how Steve’s shoulder touches yours as you sit, the space not big enough for your comfort zone but perfect for accidental touching. 

(Honestly, Steve, you’re rich. Why didn’t you get first class on a six hour flight? Like, come on!)

“Do you need more space?” he asks, though, as you settle in and practically press yourself to the window. 

You shake your head. “Gonna sleep anyways, so I’m good.” 

“Sleep? Won’t you struggle sleeping tonight? You’ll sleep through the day.” He cocks a brow. 

“Relax, old man. I like sleeping, I don’t get a lot of it, watch me make the best of it. I slept like two hours tonight so sleeping now shouldn’t say anything.” You roll your eyes at him and use the scarf that was around your neck as a blanket. The wall is hard, but better than nothing as a pillow. (If you know yourself right―and you do―you’ll end up using Steve as a pillow anyways. Hopefully, that’s not the better part of the flight.)

---

“Hey, sweetheart, we’ve landed.” Steve’s voice is barely audible. He nudges you slightly, and you blink yourself awake. It takes about two seconds to realise you used Steve as a pillow, and you’d thought it’d be his shoulder, but, no, your head is in his lap. 

And that’s all it takes for you to shoot up. That’s all it takes for you to become wide awake. (The sweetheart part did also do something, because that’s what really had your heart beating so fast, but you don’t want to acknowledge that.)

You busy yourself with taking off your seatbelt and grabbing your backpack (the carry-on). In your head, you’re trying to figure out how you could end up in his lap. There’s an armrest between the seats, and you didn’t pull it up, meaning Steve did. 

Think about something else, god, please think about something else . 

You will yourself to divert your attention over to what you dreamt about instead. But it was short lived and nothing exciting, so you’re quickly lost back to your mind running around about Steve. 

Who’s the one to grab your suitcases off the baggage claim (and help some other girl that struggled with hers―and yes, your gut felt stabbed and your heart ached when she tiptoed to kiss his cheek to thank him for his help). 

However, you’re not really one to say anything about… that, so when he comes back, you keep your mouth shut and take the suitcase he offers you. In your free hand, you go back to intertwining your hand in his. Act like a couple . If it didn’t feel like you burned your hand off at Steve’s touch it would be easier, but alas, his touch is scorching. 

And you enjoy it all too much. In fact, you’ve missed it. 

It’s all you can think about when you let go of his hand to get a cab into the city, and it’s all you can think about as the silence settles over the cab ride. You barely listen as Steve checks into the hotel, and you only gain back your consciousness when his hand grazes yours (bringing back the scorching heat) as he gives you your own key to the room. 

You’re brought back to a deep crushing reality you hadn’t expected when you unlock the door to your room and walk inside. 

It’s rather big; a desk by the floor-to-ceiling window, a chair below it and an armchair in the corner with a lamp (nice reading spot). The door to the bathroom opens into a rather big one with both a tub and a shower, and there’s a little wardrobe in the entry-way with a safe. 

The thing that has your heart hammering in your chest and the feeling of impending sweat making its way down your back, is the fact that there’s only one bed. It’s big, or more than big enough for two people, but you know that―no matter what kind of wall you build between you two―you’ll end up sleeping pretty close to Steve. You let out a sigh, and when you turn to Steve (who places his suitcase on the suitcase holder) he smiles apologetically at you. 

“I’m sorry, I… Didn’t think about the fact that there’s only one bed.” His hand goes up to scratch his neck. 

You shake your head. “Whatever. I’ll be building a wall, and I guess it would be a little weird with two beds seeing as the hotel workers are supposed to think we’re a couple too.” You’ll just have to make the best of it. 

“Okay then. You hungry? You didn’t eat anything on the plane and it’s already nine.” 

“Yeah, food sounds good.” Even though the last thing you want is to go out and eat; you’ll have to act like a couple, which means touching him. You don’t think you can survive the beating of your heart and the way your skin burns at his touch. 

But you can’t survive without food either. And it’s nice practice for what tomorrow brings. A day in Paris going sightseeing with Steve Rogers, and in public you have to play his girlfriend. 

Can this mission be over yet?

---

Sleep comes late. When you and Steve got back from eating, you were tired, yes (despite the long nap on the plane), but you couldn’t bear falling asleep in the same bed as Steve. The excuse to read some (and sit in that cozy chair with the lamp) comes so easy that even Steve doesn’t know how to reply. 

He shrugs and makes his way to the bathroom as you get out a book and sit down in the chair. 

It is as cozy as it looked, and you’re quick to kick off your shoes and tuck your legs underneath you. The book, on the other hand, is not that enticing. Instead your gaze goes to the view outside. 

Night lies over Paris, yet there’s a thousand lights in every direction. An orange hue comes off them, and a quiet, romantic feeling sets in you. It aches, knowing that it’s pretend. It aches knowing that you and Steve haven’t really talked. 

Even during dinner, it was rather quiet. Only a few words were exchanged. A few questions about the retired life, about how it is working for SHIELD. Nothing much. Nothing more than a few dozen stolen glances, from you at least. 

The handle of the bathroom rattles as the door opens. To make sure Steve doesn’t say anything about going to bed, you open the book and let your eyes run over the page. You hear him walk around, rummage through his suitcase a little, and then the bed creaks as he settles into it. 

You lift your eyes, stealing another glance at the man. Your heart leaps to your throat seeing that he’s sleeping in only boxers. He’s leaning against the headrest, cover only pulled up to his hips and you have to chide yourself for not looking away. 

If he catches you, you’re not sure whether you’ll live to go through with the mission. After all, the hardest part of it isn’t gathering intel and placing the device on the target’s phone. No, the hardest part is being so close to Steve Rogers and having your heart ache at the sight of him. 

“Are you gonna stay up long?”

At the sound of his voice, you lift your gaze fully to look at him. Your throat feels awfully dry, but you swallow and shake your head. “No, I don’t think so. Just like reading a bit before going to bed.” 

He nods. “Okay. Did you want to build a wall?” His voice is small, so gentle, and the ache in your heart grows bigger. 

“I don’t think we need it. Just keep to your side of the bed, okay?” You try for a small smile, and when he nods and gives one back, you relax slightly. 

The book is no easier to read now than when you were waiting to board the plane. It’s a lot harder, actually, and you don’t think Steve’s fallen asleep when you put it away and make it to the bathroom. You grab a big t-shirt that you usually sleep in and your toiletries on your way, and try to make as little sound as possible. 

Maybe you spend more time there than you need, but you need to psych yourself up. You’re not ready to be this close to Steve, not ready to maybe, possibly, have that talk. But eventually, you get out, turn off the lights and crawl into bed. 

Steve’s body heat comes off him, radiates to your side of the bed. It’s cold at first, but with the cover drawn and the closeness of Steve, it feels like you’re sweating. Your thoughts won’t die down. Your mind won’t rest. Even if your eyes feel heavy and you let them close. 

Sleep comes after what feels like an eternity. Only, sleep brings images you don’t want. Images of blood and fire, of hurt and screams echoing in the distance, of yelling and shouting, of orders not followed, of gunfire. It’s what every night has consisted of lately, what every night brings, and why you rarely sleep. 

As the gunfire comes to its highest, and the screams penetrate your mind, and the red color shades every scene that plays before you, something lulls at the edge of your mind. The images ceases, almost instantly, and a deep slumber finally consumes you. A dreamless sleep that’s the best you’ve had in a long time. 

---

Warm. 

That’s how you feel when you wake up. Not scorching, like when you touch Steve. But warm, a deep sense of warmth that seems to lull your mind and that carries with it something safe, something… something you can’t pinpoint. 

Your eyes open slowly. Opens enough to see the light cascading through the blinds. Opens enough to see the slight hint of skin of your own arm, and the hint of skin of someone else’s arm. It’s draped over your torso, and the head of whoever it belongs to is nuzzled into your neck as you can feel the breath fanning your back. The toned chest of the man behind you is easily felt as you stiffen. 

And you know instantly why you felt so safe. 

You try to wiggle out of Steve’s grip, but the sleeping man easily tightens it and drags you back into him. He mumbles something, but can’t make it out. You feel torn. Torn between lying there, so close to him that adrenaline rushes through your veins, and leaving, where the world feels much less safe, but your heart won’t threaten to leave your ribcage. 

There’s a million reasons why you shouldn’t indulge, why you shouldn’t let it continue. But there’s also the one reason why you want to lie there forever. 

You lift your left arm slightly, just to check the clock. Ten AM . That’s not bad. That means you got about seven hours of sleep. That’s more than three times your usual amount. And the reason behind it is the most annoying one there could ever be. 

“Steve,” you say. Your voice is gentle, trying to wake him slowly and to make sure that when he does, and he notices that you’re spooning, he won’t immediately freak out and retreat. 

But the man doesn’t respond to your voice, only nuzzles further into your hair. God, be strong . 

“Steve,” you repeat, voice louder and sterner, but with no more than what you deem necessary to actually wake him. 

“Huh?” you hear, which prompts a sigh of relief. The breath fanning your neck pulls away, and first when you hear a slight grunt does the arm around your torso retreat and the warmth of the man it belongs to leaves your back. 

You turn around to see him, perfect (or as perfect as you can) poker face coloring your face. He doesn’t need to know you enjoyed it, or that you needed it. However, the scared look on his face doesn’t help. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to…” 

You wave it away. “Don’t worry. It’s okay.” Even with the small smile you give him, the small reassurance that it is in fact okay (more than okay), Steve presses his lips together and looks so very apologetic. 

“Let’s just get up. Get some breakfast and start sightseeing?” 

That helps with the look on Steve’s face. He relaxes, but there’s still some lingering of sadness in his eyes and remorse coloring his features. He nods, shoots you another small apologetic look, and gets out of the bed. Immediately, he disappears into the bathroom. 

The day goes by faster than you expected. You see the Eiffel tower (annoy yourself by thinking how it’s supposed to be romantic―and you’re supposed to act like a couple―and how that’s not happening), you visit the Louvre, and you take a walk past the Notre Dame Cathedral, and (after a lot of begging from your side―and pulling some strings) you visit the catacombs. 

Because you keep having something to do, your mind doesn’t go to the place it has been the last twenty-four hours. You have to act like a couple (something that is currently not happening due to Steve’s guilt from this morning), and the thought was agonizing when Sharon first told you, but then you did it a little and the more you did the more you enjoyed it and the more it just became an excuse. 

Only, that excuse doesn’t help so much when Steve won’t even look at you without the look of a kicked puppy, only said puppy knows he was in the wrong. It’s excruciating. And all you want is to just thread your fingers through his and feel your mind slither away underneath his touch. 

Can’t always have what you want. 

---

“The plan is easy. We go in, we find the target, I chit-chat with him, some flirting, fish his phone from his pocket in a pretend fall and place the chip in it. Easy.” You recount the plan to Steve for the n th time. He’s annoyed, because you’re not letting go of the part about him not doing anything . 

He’s about to open his mouth again, but you shush him before he can. “No! You retired Steve, you withdrew from it. Tonight, you’re a tool that is going to act madly in love with me and not do anything else. You are, of course, welcome to save me from a bullet and die yourself.” A slight part of you wants to laugh. Even as you try to joke about it, you do want him to be madly in love with you. And, despite the bittersweet feelings about him (and the play of hate), you don’t actually want him to die. You don’t even want him to be hurt. 

But Steve just nods. That he’s okay with. The fact that he’s not supposed to help because, technically, he’s a civilian, that he doesn’t grasp. 

Doesn’t matter anyways because the car pulls up to the place of the event. You sigh before letting Steve help you out, linking your hand with his arm before you walk up the red carpet that lines the entrance. (Gosh, this is even fancier than you expected). 

At the door, a man dressed in a black tux eyes the two of you. “Name?” he says, and just by how he says it, you feel like you don’t belong. This is way too fancy for your taste.

“Rogers,” replies Steve, completely unfazed by the male’s posh… everything . “Steve Rogers.”

The man scans a list and then looks up at Steve with a fake smile. “Good evening, mister Rogers. The hosts are expecting you. Please walk down the hall and the first to the left to relieve your coats.”

Shortly after the two of you find your table, which (if by purpose or by accident, you don’t know) turns out to be shared with your target. A flirty smile and introduction goes a long way to make the man look happy about the seating. It also goes a long way to make Steve actually show his true feelings, as after you sit, he pulls your chair a little closer to his own. 

You can’t say you mind.

---

The mission itself goes well. Since you didn’t have that much to do, it only took some light flirting to attach a chip to your targets phone and keep on with your night. Unfortunately, that’s not too easy when Steve insists on following said target as he suspiciously sneaks his way through the crowd and towards rooms clearly marked off limits. 

“Steve, why are we doing this?” 

Steve’s dragging you along with him, quickly checking side to side before going through the same door as your target and yanking your arm so that you follow. “Because that little tech thing you did is probably not enough.”

You roll your eyes. “God, you got a real cacoethes for running straight into danger, huh?”

“A what now?” Steve stops, squinting at you with confusion written all over his face. 

“Cacoethes.”

“ That’s not a real word. ” 

You scoff. “‘Course it is. Means to have an uncontrollable urge or desire for doing   inadvisable things, like smoking or drinking too much or running head first into danger as a civilian .” At the last part you poke him in the chest and mutter through clenched teeth. 

Steve bites his lips and rubs his neck. “Oh,” he lets out. “I still don’t know if it’s a real word, but sure. But we should―”

Before he can finish, you hear footsteps coming down the hallway. You look for a spot to hide, and not finding one, your mind thinks quick of a cover up should you actually be caught. 

As you press your lips to Steve’s, you can’t help but think that maybe you have a cacoethes yourself. Because the press of his lips against yours has your heart ache and beat at the same time. It’s soft, yet it’s rough. It’s passionate yet hasty. 

And it’s so full of desire, it makes your knees go weak. 

A cough to your side makes the two of you pull away from each other, faces flushed and a kind of embarrassing smile on your face. 

“Excuse me, but the two of you are not allowed back here.” It’s a security guard, but he doesn’t look as mad as you thought he would be. 

Rubbing your neck and smiling sheepishly, you let out an awkward laugh. “So sorry, sir. We… uh, we just… were looking for somewhere, you know, private.” You lean a little into Steve’s chest at that to give some more to the role. 

“Just leave the party, then, miss. I’m sure no one would miss you.” The security guard winks. “I’ll show you a quick way out back if you don’t want to be spotted.”

You press your lips together and intertwine your hand with Steve’s. “That would be great, thank you.”

And when Steve doesn’t complain or mention anything about having something to do, you both follow him out.

That night, neither of you think anything about sleeping in the same bed, or sleeping close together. Or about the fact that you’re both naked. 

Maybe things are looking good after all. 

permanent:  @devilbat​ @adefectivedetective​ @gamillian​ @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic​ @heartislubbingdubbing​ @wiczer​ @chillcan​ @geeksareunique​ @fandom-imagines1​ @murdermornings​

steve: @melannie77​

[abyss-mal-blog1]

current mind-space//word vomit

it’s amazing how much can change in a few days, but it hasn’t been a week since my finals ended and i already felt so different. i have been doing f45 everyday this week (if not then some kind of workout, but i’ve really been into that recently). i am feeling so much better now without deadlines, sometimes i don’t know if i function better under pressure or not. i guess not, but then it’s amazing how much i can do and achieve under pressure. i need the right amount of pressure, and this semester it has been a little difficult for me to get around that. 

last friday was kinda my last day of finals, i just had an essay to submit, and i am disappointed in myself and my work ethic because i submitted it at 9pm, went to my cousin’s (disappointing) party, and then professor emailed me to say that she cannot read Pages format (seriously smh @ my tardiness!!!), only got back at 1am that night and sent my mediocre essay. i am a little sad about it because i know that is not my 100%. idk why but college so far has just been a series of 80% effort. this paper was an interesting one, on airbnb, on the sharing economy, it’s a performance studies paper where i analyze the hospitality platform in terms of host-user relationship, parasitism and (attempted) to talk about free online labor. it is a little too late now but i kinda want to work on it again and like, submit for feedback. maybe ill ask taylor. 

last saturday was kinda meh, i agreed to go to a *social* kinda event at a bar/club at chelsea, held for Asian-ivy-alumni-people that yanlin invited me too. it was at up&up and honestly a little...i didn’t enjoy it at all. the music sucked, the people were either too dorky or gross or old or weird, and the whole time i just kept saying to myself, “never again”. they said it was open bar but they only served absolut, which was shit. and then my friend’s two friends were...i feel sorry that this was their first clubbing experience. at the beginning my reaction was look at all these ivy alumni! get hitched with one of them for ~da connectsx~ (and nothing else) but no kidding i was actually interested in talking to them just to get to know what people who graduated from ivies are up to, and what are they doing at such events...and are they actually enjoying themselves because it was really kinda gross. met my friend’s friend who seemed like a really smart engineer (he asked for my number the next day lol), and a german dude at the bar who didn’t want to get me a drink. all i needed that night was a drink.....(i’m glad i didn’t drink tho because recently drinking has made me feel all kinds of bad)  we had ramen after at ramen-ya (most probably the worst ramen and charsiew i’ve had but what can we do at 3am and my friend wanted noodle and soup...)

on sunday i KNow i should have left my house earlier to workout but i didn’t. i was angry at myself that i didn’t. instead, i stayed at home and emotion-ate. i must have eaten more green bean soup than my stomach would have liked. what else...avocado? i remember..two bananas? god. this was the day i felt like i was n’s boyfriend because i had to do what she wanted to do. i know i had agreed on going, but at that point i really wanted to go thrifting or something. i mean when i got to central park it was fine and things were good but the whole day just felt like i was kinda pulled into doing something that wasn’t my first choice of plans, not that i didn’t enjoy myself lying under the sun at the park. it just felt like i was accompanying someone. i was half an hour late to meet her as well, and half heartedly got a burrito-wrap at newsbar. if you think about it it is really kinda funny, we’re just buying food and taking the subway to this grass patch 50 blocks away. we didn’t walk much, we literally only stayed at a little grassy slope overlooking the baseball pitch. anyway we went to a dance class after (the class was an hour long but i felt like n had asked me about when and what time we should book the classes for more than an hour by text so i just got really sick of it) i rushed home and got dinner with my uncle who’s in town for my cousin’s graduation. i was surprised that he chose the same japanese restaurant again, after dissing it half a year ago we ate here. the omakase was crazy and it cost 230 per person. (for the most expensive set) it was also kinda dumb because you aren’t allowed to order a different omakase set from anyone else - everyone on the table has to order the same - because of “timing”. i wonder if this is how it is in japanese omakase etiquette, but in any case it really earned them a hefty amount because my uncle decided to get 230 for all of us. qiyang didn’t like and said qiqi had bad taste, hahaha. the food wasn’t bad, i mean it’s japanese fusion, but the prices were way too steep for the taste. anyway enough about the food, during the dinner i think we talked about many things though. i kinda wanted to talk to my uncle individually because i think he is the only one who knows about ah gong, but he was sick, and i could tell he was exhausted. my aunt got a little impatient because i didn’t arrange plans to take their furniture and they were going to throw all of them away and it was actually the first time i’ve seen her get so worked up - but at the same time trying to control her emotions - because she was talking to me. i could tell she was annoyed though but i tried not to take it personally, and arranged it tomorrow. 

arranging the moving stuff was kinda last minute, i was walking to the library for work one day and i saw a truck that said MakeSpace. i assumed it was a kind of moving company and so i looked them up. they seemed to be pretty okay in terms of their services and so i decided to try them out. confirmation and setting up an appointment went pretty smoothly, except for the part where the guy i think his name was joseph, asked me to give my credit card details over the phone. idk why i did that! i stopped though, and asked him why, to which he replied he wanted to key in with the coupon code. this service has so much gimmicks within the first 2-3 minutes on the phone he was already telling me about how the first pick up is free, and that he will deduct 100$ off the first month...when people give you discounts too easily it just feels like a ploy and a thing they give to everyone, it’s not anything special and it’s probably calculated inside whatever we have to pay. anyway, i was just thinking it would be cheaper (assuming the maximum that i would have to pay is ~$500, as i confirmed with them on the phone yesterday), it’d still be cheaper than starting an apartment lease now and going through the trouble of finding two subletters. 

well. idk, it’s also easy to have things all moved in, i have to find a place to store my perishables!

moving is so much work, and storing things. this reminds me of my paper on airbnb and about the digital nomad lifestyle. it is interesting though, that this is what it has become. but the homogenized aesthetic is something i really cannot stand, in airbnb, in coffeeshops around the world..i am sure you know what i’m talking about. a new york times writer did something about this - he termed it “Airspace” - and apparently it originated from Brooklyn. I guess that’s where the art/avant-garde stuff started. well. keep a look out im gonna write a blogpost about that 

moving on 

nat came to sleepover on sunday night and a few days after because the school kicks you out of the dorms you pay so much for right after your final ends. i forgot if we did something fun but i probably just fell asleep. 

on monday i think i went to f45 and did cardio at Dumbo with Gi. he seems like a pretty nice trainer, the first time i went it was him and another girl Bertha (i think my first f45 was last tuesday) and i felt like i had two personal trainers with me - Gi was cheering me on and Bertha was doing it with me. it felt like such a good workout, one of the best ive had in a while. then work, where i arranged the movers stuff. i also realized i bought the wrong date for my flight ticket as my friends and had to buy one more...............

tuesday was the same f45 in the morning, and the bobst after. didn’t really get much work done at bobst. oh i also viewed a 3BR flex at 160. hella expensive and small, and dates didn’t work out anyway. also the broker who brought us to view the apartment was a very nice tall french man and his name was jean-francois which i couldn’t pronounce and asked nat but still called him jean as in jeen instead of john. this is why i have to learn french. you’re embarrassing. i also went to the itp/ima spring show with shubham which was super cool. there were many cool ideas, and i just wonder if i could create something like that. i didn’t get to see all of the exhibits which i regret, but i remember a few notable projects. one was an installation made with keyboards that randomly clicks, but when you hold your phone up it’ll stop. it’s made using 3d gestures. there’s also one at a gallery for surveillance, this team had a thing they call facebox, and it’s literally a box, that when you open it has a webcam that would capture your face, find you on facebook, and print out an invoice/receipt on how much you have earned for this giant tech company.  what else...an AR project that when you scan a food,  it shows you where the food comes from. nat said that she would love it if menus have something they could scan and then have pictures appear in ~holographic~ format, or maybe in the nearer future something on your phone that shows you a picture of the picture of the food. but isn’t it a surprise tho? sometimes the fun’s in the surprise, you read the description, you know what are the foods you’ll eat, leaving room to imagine or be surprised by how the chef puts it together! anyway, went for dinner with nat and jenny - got vegan shwarma (definitely wasn’t worth $14) and went to get crepes with will after. 

wednesday we were gonna go to the dmv but we weren’t prepared. nat also needed to get her passport and she was lazy. wow the number of times i mentioned her, it feels like she’s my boyfriend at this point. talked to famz, sister, and beatrix. am currently considering if i should even go to beijing or just go straight home. fuck. went to bobst for work but no one was there i was just really sleepy. viewed an apartment at 55 morton (it’s a nice quiet residential street that seems to be tucked away from the loud cars and bars and people) then i went to f45 again-varsity!!! cardio!!!, walked across brooklyn bridge (a little regret although i wanted to walk, but my bag was heavy and there were too many tourists to brisk walk) 

also the reason for this is that after my soba/miso/salad/shrimp dinner last night i was just watching a bunch of netflix shows and it was probably the caffeine from puerto rican roasting company - the barista made me a chai cappuccino with almond milk (3 SHOTS!!!)

me and nat couldn’t sleep, i really think i slept for an hour. i watched so many different shows, yoko and john’s documentary, while we were young, anthony bourdain, i was seriously flipping through all the shows and alternating between amazonprme and youtube and netflix and i even tried watching peaceful cuisine and making the brightness lower and had the sleep mode on and wow i just couldn’t sleep

so yeah the birth of this word vomit 

i am going to create more things

[huntsman-ash]

RWBY Season 7 Episode 2

Same deal as last time on this one, no tags so it doesn’t spoil anyone but I’ll keep it for my own stuff. Might start tagging these “livewatch” but I dont think THAT should show up on any particular tag-list. So here we go.

Where last we left our intrepid band of weirdos, lesbians, small boys being inhabited by old men, and Qrow, they’d just gotten their asses pinched by the most flamboyantly over-the-top “special operatives” in existence after probably saving Mantle from getting its ass chewed on by Grimm. Lets see how they fare...

Well seems like its pretty in character. Nora is attempting to EAT her way out of handcuffs. And I think Oscar just fell asleep. 

“Took us out like its nothing”, says Jaune. Its almost like they’re Specialists and you didn’t even graduate from Vale.  Mind you, BOTH groups are nothing compared to what I really honestly hope is true and not just my military headcanons Atlas has on hand. 

Hmm. Random gritty looking civvie. Interesting.  Least his giving exposition. “The elite of elite military Huntsmen.” WELP. Atlas is well and truly fucked if THAT is the best the can bring to the table. 

...Oh fuck, its Ash. Its Ash as a green-eyed angry teenager. Mixed with Tabloid from Ace Combat 7. 

Actually no, he’s a LOT more childish than Ash. Ash has history, this guy just has a boner for Robyn. Robin? IDK. 

Sigh. “Happy Huntress’s.” GREAATTTTT. Fuckin’ Robin Hood bullshit. I get this is Remnant but come on. And apperently Mantle cant even have people stand up for itself, no, they have to come from ATLAS. Mehh. Fuck it. 

New airship design! Its basically a flying box, but hey. Least we get a new one.  Henceforth I shall call it the Cattlecar.

Okay not going to lie but Atlas looks like High Charity kinda. Glowing spires, tight city blocks...its pretty cool, actually.  And it looks like they literally build the city into the moutain and then...ripped the mountain out of Mantle. Wonder when that happened. Was that the result of a mistake during a Dust RnD test? Also, calling it now, but this is how Fortress Academy looks. Except inside the mountain. 

Nora is still trying to eat her way out of her bolo handcuffs. 

And now, Atlas Academy; literally a giant fucking tower surrounded by OTHER towers. Top of the fucking rock. I gotta admit that fits the feeling of it, really. Dear Biased RWBY Gods LET IT HAVE TRIPLE-A

Atlas trooper armor hasn’t changed a bit. 

And I see that Atlas takes rules from the Forerunners of Halo; NO FUCKING RAILINGS ANYWHERE. I wonder how often people fall off the sides by accident...

Oh good Penny’s here! And HOLY SHIT ITS WINTER! SHES NOT DEAD! Also Atlas’s room doors all look like they have protculus’s on them.

REALLY Winter? Fucking with the grunts? Come on, their lifes bad enough as it is, don’t go the military route...

Soft daddy Ironwood. Cute. Also, nice fucking office. 

Penny looks adorable when she stands at attention. I mean everything she does is cute but... Also is Ironwoods voice different? Must not have heard it in a while but it sounds different...

Yes. Shut up and accept the hug Winter. ACCEPT. THE. HUG.

Good. Penny and Winter are in on this. THAT means others are...and so’s the Helljumpers. 

Yang, you dont know how the fuck this works, do you? Come on.  Also, RT, your Autin-fueled liberal side is showing...

Fucking super dramatic window closing and rising floor. This is what happens when your up in the cold north with nothing to do, HA. 

A new approach...oh my god. Open warfare? PLEASE TELL ME ITS OPEN WARFARE. NUKE SALEM!

Also oh hey there’s the Colloseum. Does that mean its officially Atlas’s to keep? Huh. 

Holy shit, someone figured out to rebuild the CCTS! It only took them...a year and a half, give or take? New ones mobile too... WEAPONIZE IT. Gun emplacements, military defenses, barracades, Triple-A! Make that fucking flying sports arena into a BATTLESHIP. 

GIVE REMNANT A PHALANX!

HOLY SHIT THEY’RE DOING IT! LOW ORBIT SATELLITE COMS! FUCKING AT LAST!

Ohhh. OH FUCK YES. IRONWOOD YOU MAGNIFICENT BASTARD! YES! LETS SEE THAT SLIMY FUCKIN BACKSTABBY BITCH GET OUT OF THIS! AN ENTIRE WORLD REUNITED AGAINST HER! HUMAN WAVE ATTACKS, MASS ASSAULTS, AIR POWER AND COMS...IRONWOOD YOU MAGNIFICENT BASTARD, DO IT!

That being said though this...seems kind of intense.  Also the whole “revealing Salem will cause panic” is...odd to me. I would think Remnant would be MAD. Vengeful. Yes that could bring Grimm, but when you have reason to fight, your morale is high. You fight harder than you have before. Thats the first rule of any military. Give the people an enemy, and they will rally. The Queen of Grimm, the cause of all your sorrows and frustrations...people will be grabbing rifles by the MILLIONS.

Oscars like “oh, well...shit.”

(Headdesks) NOTHING pisses me off more than seeing the General of FUCKING ATLAS bowing to a fucking SHOTA.  DO NOT KNEEL BEFORE THE FUCKING SMALL FARM BOY. YOU ARE A FUCKING GENERAL. I DO NOT CARE IF HE IS OZPIN REINCARNATE SHOW YOUR FUCKING RANK SOME RESPECT. Yes I know its becuse Oscar is like 4 feet shorter than him BUT STILL

Penny probably knows Ruby’s lying about the lamp. If she can’t read biometric data, I’ll be incredibly shocked. 

On that, something tells me Ruby’s making sure Ironwood cant figure out whats going on himself. Shes taking some control back. Good. 

We’ll make a soldier out of you yet farmboi.

Weird magic shape-changing lamp. Woooo

OH YES. IRONWOODS BRINGING OUT THE UPGRADES. OH FUCK YES

Yang’s response is my own. Mind you it’ll still be...Hunter tech. But hey, good shit.

Oh hey look its Olivia’s long-lost sister. Also when humor requires it, Ruby fully becomes a cartoon character

Wolf faunus. Hm. These really are Ace Ops. Aseops. Cute.  Hope they dont ALL die.

Penny can cha-cha-slide

Ironwood; Qrow (Decends the stairs to “Here comes the general” from Hamilton)

...Hes hugging Qrow. AND THATS HOW YOU GET DEATH DISEASE PEOPLE

Fucking hell this place is gigantic. I thought Beacon had a big campus, this is fucking bonkers.  Everythings white too though which might not be the best choice...also the wall lights are literally torches just like on Atlas’s kingdom emblem so.

Noras down. Quick, no one glance up her skirt

Rain in Mantle. Hmm. Must be melted snow from above.

Watts walks like a fucking gentleman. Like, damn dude, slouch a little. 

Ear-coms. COMBEAD? Perhaps...good they’re canon, thats enough for me. 

Im pretty sure I can hear tyrian killing a dude in the background of his call.

None of the code was updated in Mantle. Well, fucking great, Watts has control of the entire area. He’s literally fuckin Adrien from Watch_Dogs. Even down to the “I helped write it” Also some of those cars look seriously armored. I like it. 

Yep he just killed a dude. Actually I think this is the first time we’ve seen proper blood in the show. Someones gonna notice that Tyrian you know that right

And with that...Episode 2 down.