#i say this as if i don’t have 50 projects on my queue

[snallavanta]

i’m so excited for wednesday!!! i’m gonna buy yarn so that i can make a sweater with these vibes

i am totally ignoring the fact that they’re all wearing gloomy monotonous colours rn but i’m gonna make a sweater with this funfetti vibe. it’s going to be so colourful that it makes me SICK

[ciaossu-imagines]

hiiiii im just wondering when your commissions will be open again? sorry if you already answered this!

Hello there 😊 No need to be sorry at all, my dear, even if a question has been asked, I don’t mind answering it again, in most cases! As far as when commissions will reopen, the short answer is not as soon as I’d like. In all honesty, worst case scenario, it won’t be until September. I mean, I will be honest and say that I hope it will be earlier, but that’s probably the best line to go by, unless I desperately need money before then.

The longer answer requires parting the curtain just a little bit. I always try to be really transparent with all you lovely readers about my writing process, about my projects and the things I have on the go, so I don’t really mind doing so here. In good news, I’ve finished both commissions I had owing this weekend, on my days off. Now that those are done, I’m moving on to my do-to list for writing, which is as below. I'm not rushing or overloading myself on the below - I expect a lot from myself, but I am realizing I need some rest and relaxation (or at least time to eat and sleep every day) as well.

I’m working on writing a long-fic that I’m really excited about. It’s a self-ship fic, yeah, but it’s also letting me work with some friend’s really amazing OC’s or self-inserts and it’s been something I’ve been really wanting to get the chance to seriously work on. I’ve been working on it, writing little scenes from it here and there, so now it’s having the fun of doing it from the beginning and stringing everything together. So, I’m treating it like a commission and making it my focus – however, full transparency, I work 50 hours this upcoming week and the large majority of it is in the pharmacy, where we’re not allowed to sit at all during our shifts (because it might make the customers think we’re lazy) so there’s very, very little chance I’ll be able to finish the fic this week due to exhaustion and pain. I’m aiming for having it done within the next two weeks though, ideally, because it really is something I’m just that excited about writing.

Once I’m done with that fic, I’m taking about a week to reply to dm’s and email’s from friends and to send the fic to get approval for posting from the friend's featured in it. It takes about that long because I do write novels in reply to people I love talking to, sorry about that to all those lovelies who talk to me. I’d also, during this time, like to try making a Discord account and start trying to beat some of my shyness and get into fandom spaces to meet and talk to people, make fandom even more enjoyable for me 😊

After that, I’m concentrating really hard on getting the rest of my queue built on the blog, a mixture of one-shots, drabbles, headcanons, and such. I’d like to have at least 100 posts ready, that way I can post twice a day for 50 days, which buys me lots of free time, without any worries about the blog, to work on the things below. Headcanon posts don’t take a real long time to write, at most half an hour to an hour for the most intricate, drabbles at most two hours, so I can get a queue built pretty quickly thankfully, with the one-shots being the things that take me the longest. As teased in the previous post, I’ll also be giving you guys rewritten, updated one-shots from a years old smut collection in that queue.

Once that is done, because it was largely agreed upon that many potential commissioners would feel a lot better about commissioning if I had examples of what they could get, I would like to write examples of each type of commission I accept - I had played around with the idea of using some of the commissions already finished, but to be honest, I don't feel good about everyone being able to have access to something someone paid to have, all their own. However, this also does take some time and to ensure they’re all the same quality I give to people who actually do commission, I want to not rush them.

When that is done, I want to focus on the Patreon I keep saying is coming. My plans are that, for the people buying in on tiers to support my work, I’ll be posting one long one-shot story a month. I have some fun ideas for potential other Patreon perks, because I want at least two perks for the Patreons. So my time will be spent getting at least three months ready for that.

Once that is done, I’ll restock the queue and reopen commissions! And by that time, I'll be approaching the slow season, more than likely so I'll be better able to keep to deadlines and stay up with the multiple things on the go.

[canpokemonwritebooks]

About This Blog

In an episode of The Adventure Zone, the McElroy brothers claimed that Pokémon cannot write books then decided a few, such as Mr. Mime and Mewtwo, would be able to write books. So, on this blog I will determine whether or not Pokémon can write books using a random Pokémon generator and a 100 point scale.

If and when I cover every Pokémon, either total or by a category, we will know if Pokémon can write books.

The 100 point scale assigns points based on the following questions:

Is this Pokémon physically capable of writing?

Does this Pokémon know what a book is?

Can this Pokémon read?

Would this Pokémon have access to the materials needed to write a book?

Does this Pokémon have enough basic education to write well?

Would this Pokémon be good at writing?

Does this Pokémon have anything to write about?

Would this Pokémon be able to get their writing into a book?

Would this Pokémon want to write a book?

Does this Pokémon have any other redeeming qualities?

Additional notes

This is not a serious blog. It is a joke treated seriously.

This blog is not a roleplay/ pokeirl blog. More below.

The only posts on this blog will be the usual “can Pokémon write” posts, posts related to both Pokémon and books, and responses to asks. No reblogs from other accounts.

My main blog is @entity9silvergen. I sometimes post about Pokémon on there but I go through phases. 

Pokémon are referred to with it/ its pronouns (usually) because this is how they are referred to canonically. I personally refer to them with gendered pronouns but I wanted consistency here.

Determining whether a Pokémon can or cannot write is not reflective of my own feelings about that Pokémon. I will often leave a note in the tags if I particularly like a Pokémon or if a popular Pokémon has scored poorly to clarify this.

Dunsparce points are given to Pokémon who score low but are loved enough that they deserve to write books. 

Many Pokémon are very similar so the posts about them will be very similar. I will try to vary them but there’s only so much I can do.

A 50-70 on the writing scale is a pretty solid gray area and will usually be determined based on whether or not the Pokémon has hands or I will say the Pokémon can write but not well.

A 70 or higher usually means the Pokémon can write but not always.

Here is a link to this blog as a separate website.

Asks, Requests, and Challenges:

You are welcome to challenge any decision or make suggestions. I prefer you make suggestions for posts via ask and any challenges by reblog. You are welcome to include your own image if you don’t like the ones I use. Other asks are welcome as long as it’s sort of on topic or related to a post.

Please only leave one Pokémon per ask. You are welcome to leave multiple asks.

Suggestions made by ask will be moved to the top of the queue. If multiple suggestions are made at once, whichever came first will be queued first.

Revisions are not prioritized so it may be some time before I update a Pokémon’s score. I will respond to the ask though. I think the discussion around the score is more significant than the discussion itself. 

If a Pokémon’s score is contested purely on the fact that the Pokémon is liked, I may give it some Dunsparce points.

You can request any canonical Pokémon. 

This includes any Pokémon from the Pokédex, Pokémon from the latest generation, a specific trainer’s Pokémon from the games, a popular Pokémon character from the anime, a Mega Evolution, a and regional variant.

This excludes OCs and fan-made Pokémon. If I ever run out, I may review the Fakémon from smogon’s Create-A-Pokemon project and/ or Pokémon from popular fan games such as Uranium, Sweet, or Insurgence. 

You are welcome to roleplay in asks, such as reference your trainer OC’s Pokémon or roleplay as a canon character. I will respond going along with the roleplay but I myself am not roleplaying a character. Claiming that your own Pokémon is able to do something will not affect scores though, especially for challenges/ revisions.  

Asks can be requests but they can also be anything related to Pokémon, writing, or books. I respond to asks about me or my thoughts on Pokémon on my main blog but perfectly okay to do so here. 

Pokemon Analyzed: 

Gen 1:

Charmeleon

Meowth (request)

Paras

Gengar (request)

Lapras (request)

Eevee (request)

Vaporeon (request)

Jolteon (request)

Flareon (request)

Porygon (request)

Mewtwo (request)

Gen 2:

Furret (request)

Spinarak (request w/art)

Togepi

Espeon (request)

Umbreon (request)

Wobbuffet

Dunsparce (contested)

Donphan

Porygon2 (request)

Stantler

Smeargle (request)

Tyranitar

Gen 3:

Sceptile (request)

Cascoon

Gardevoir

Breloom (request)

Ninjask

Altaria

Banette (request)

Relicanth

Luvdisc (request)

Gen 4:

Garchomp (request)

Riolu (request)

Skorupi (request)

Leafeon (request)

Glaceon (request)

Porygon-Z (request)

Arceus (request)

Gen 5:

Munna

Audino (request)

Leavanny (request)

Scolipede (request)

Whimsicott (request)

Darumaka

Trubbish (request)

Cofagrigus (request)

Gothorita (request)

Joltik (request)

Yamask (request)

Chandelure (request)

Hydreigon (revisions)

Gen 6:

Froakie

Sylveon (request)

Goodra (request)

Phantump (request)

Diancie (request)

Gen 7:

Komala

Pheromosa (request)

Celesteela (request)

Kartana (request)

Poipole (request)

Gen 8:

Rillaboom (request)

Raboot (request)

Sobble (request)

Drizzile (request)

Inteleon (request)

Snom (request)

Gen 9:

Meowscarda (request)

Tinkaton (request)

Bombirdier

Sandy Shocks

Wo-Chien (request)

Iron Valiant (request)

Regional Variants 

Specials/ Collections

Eeveelution Special

Utria Library Masterpost

Can the author write books?

[mercerislandbooks]

Book Notes: Poetry Unbound

I didn’t make any resolutions this year, but a podcast I listened to in December about accomplishing big reading projects (War and Peace, Moby Dick, Shakespeare’s entire oeuvre) by breaking them into manageable chunks, reminded me that I do have an unresolved intention of incorporating more poetry into my reading life. I think about it when National Poetry Month rolls around or when I’m shelving/tidying in the Poetry section. Then I get distracted by the latest novel I’m reading and my intention goes by the wayside. Breaking it up into manageable sections, say reading one poem a day, even if I did this only some of the time, would still be more poetry overall than I’ve read in many, many years.

Then I finished my last audiobook and noticed that I had Poetry Unbound: 50 Poems to Open Your World by Padraig O Tuama in my “to listen” queue. Why not try listening to some poetry, I thought? Poetry Unbound the book grew out of the Poetry Unbound podcast that Padraig O Tuama hosts, which is under the umbrella of Krista Tippet’s On Being Project. I’d been drawn first to the cover, and then the set up of the book. Padraig O Tuama begins with a short lead-in to the poem, then the poem, and follows with his thoughts on it. The range of poets is modern and wide, many of whom I’ve not been exposed to before, and still others I only know by name from shelving or ringing people up. It also doesn’t hurt that Padraig narrates the book himself, in his lovely Irish accent that seems to give each word added weight.

Listening to the audiobook, I was reminded that poetry benefits from being both seen on the page and spoken aloud, even if it is just you, the reader, who is doing the speaking. By listening to the audiobook, I missed the visual impact of how each poet chose to structure their poem. When Padraig would refer to how the poem appears on the page in his reaction it gave me some idea of it, but it just made me realize how much a poem can say with its structure as well as each carefully chosen word. And then to hear the words spoken aloud, with pauses and stresses, gives them life in a way that my internal voice does not. Listening created space for my thoughts and feelings to breathe. It gave me time for me to consider the resonance of the idea or image. I suppose what I am saying is this is a book that begs to be both read and heard, if that is a possibility for you.

The reflections following each poem are a delight because not only does Padraig talk about what each poem means to him, he also discusses various poetic devices and terms like alliteration and voice. Some of them I remembered from my undergrad classes. Many of them I don’t think I ever knew. He asks open ended questions to underline the questions the poet is asking. He draws attention to the choices the poet made, bringing us deeper and closer to their intention. He illuminates the context of the poem and the poet, so that I had a much richer and fuller experience with each poem than I would have had if I was simply reading them on their own.

If you are interested in reading more poetry this year, I highly recommend Poetry Unbound as a wonderful place to start!

— Lori

[vkelleyart]

Story Time: Get a load of what happened to me at Starbucks today.

There’s a running joke among people who know me personally that I unwittingly go out in public with a sign on my forehead stating “I Am Non-Threatening. Come Talk To Me.” Because if there’s a chance a bizarre conversation with a total stranger is going to happen, I’m typically the person it happens to.

Some context: I have been pretty darn sick this week. (It’s not Coronavirus, don’t worry.) Since the work in my queue for my day job is comprised entirely of audio narration right now, and I currently sound like a waterlogged Demi Moore, I haven’t been able to work these last couple of days. As a result, I’ve been using my down time to knock out as much of Manu’s redesign as possible. Today, to ensure I didn’t spend the day languishing in sinus misery, I medicated the crap out of myself and took Manu to the Starbucks down the block from my son’s day care.

I hit the bathroom, then picked an empty table, but as soon as I sat down with my venti Comfort Tea and started tweaking the inks on my iPad, I felt the eyes of the man next to me looking over my shoulder.

When I looked up, he had his phone out. “I’m sorry,” he said (in a thick accent I couldn’t place geographically), “I don’t want to disturb. I notice you art. You are artist!”

I tried to smile. “Yes, I’m... Well, I’m trying to be,” I croaked.

He leaned in, like he was sharing a secret.

“I am artist, too.”

He stuck out his hand.

I gently took it, grateful for the bathroom trip I just took in which I washed the scourge off of my fingers.

“Can I?” he asked, holding his phone up.

“Take a picture? Uh... sure,” I said. It’s not like he would be able to steal Manu out from under me or anything, I figured. The panel I was tweaking was magnified out to Guam.

“I am artist. Architect and Designer,” he clarified while he steadied his phone over my iPad. “I am Ilker. What is your name?”

“I’m Venessa” I said, trying to be polite. This, I thought warily, is precisely how I get myself into trouble. I’m too damn nice.

“You know, I come to America twenty years ago from Turkey...”

I put down my stylus. This was going to be a while.

“I like Turkey,” he explained. “I like the country and I like the people. But I am artist. I am not... religious man.”

I nodded.

“I told my wife I was going to go to America and she said, “what are you going to do? You don’t have job! You don’t have money! No Visa!” And I said, “I am artist and architect. I will paint and sell my paintings.

“So I come to America alone. To New York City. I sit outside, and I paint. And people, they liked my paintings. They bought them. This one for $30, that one for $50.

“One day, a man comes over to me and he say, “I like your painting. I see you are also architect.” And he gives me his number and asks me to go to meeting at his office. Because he wants to offer me a job. He starts to talk about a building contract.

“I tell him I don’t know anything about contracts. I have no Visa. I am not American citizen. But he says, “That’s okay. I will take care of everything. You will have nothing to worry about.” And this man, he gave me a job. $173,000 a year. And my wife, he gave her a job too. She was project assistant. I bring her and my two daughters over from Turkey.”

“Wow,” I said, not fully believing the veracity of what sounded like a full-on immigration fairy tale.

“Here,” said Ilker, unlocking his phone and opening up his Facebook app. “I show you my work.” He paused and looked up at me. “I am interrupting. You don’t mind?”

At this point, I was invested. I had to see. Because whatever he was about to show me would either prove or disprove this yarn he was spinning. “Please,” I said, gesturing for him to go ahead.

He opened his photos and my jaw dropped. His work... was UNREAL.

“This is building I designed on Madison Ave.... And this one in Chelsea...”

Holy crap. I had just been to Chelsea with my sister last month on a trip to see a broadway show. I had crossed the intersection of the building he was, at this moment, telling me he designed.

He flipped through more buildings. These, he’d designed in Washington, DC. In Bethesda. In Arlington. All beautiful, streamlined, modern structures I had visited and parked my car in front of. He told me he did much of his concept work freehand. That he worked exclusively in natural media. His preferred media was pen, ink, watercolors, and chalks.

Between photos of his wife and daughters, he went on to show me photos from the RUSSIAN EXHIBITION OF HIS ARCHITECTURE ARTWORK.

Y’all, I was stunned. I couldn’t believe the talent I was sitting next to. Scattered among these gloriously rendered images of some of the most beautiful building concepts I’d ever seen were paintings of scenes in Central Park, the National Mall, and nudes from a life-drawing session he attends from time to time.

When he was done flipping through his phone, he looked at me and smiled. “I hope you don’t mind that I interrupt you. I show you all this because what you are doing is very good. And you should be encouraged. To draw is to make beauty.”

I nodded, a lump in my throat. “Thank you,” I managed. “Your work is astonishing. I don’t even know what to say. What is your name again?”

He held out his hand once more. “Ilker Kocahan,” he said. “I am getting more coffee. Can I get you one?”

I looked at my still-full venti cup. “No thank you. But here, please take my card.”

He held my dinky business card like I’d handed him a treasure and thanked me.

Then Ilker got his coffee, and left the coffee shop.

At some point in his ramblings he talked about America as a place of dreams. How he credits this country with helping him rise to the top of his field where he is now able to sell his paintings for $800-$1000 a piece now that he’s retired. My heart ached to hear him talk about that, knowing how our leadership’s positions on immigrants have taken such a dark and horrifying turn.

Imagine the buildings and museums and public places that would never have been if a business man in the park hadn’t lifted up a Turkish painter who spoke little English.

And now that painter was paying it forward on me.

I still feel pretty darn sick. I’ve still got body aches and a nose that has taken the rest of my face hostage.

But today was a really good day. And I just wanted to share it with you in case you are looking for reasons to keep drawing/painting/dancing/writing. It all counts and it is all good.

If you would like to see Ilker Kocohan’s work, please click here.

[foxymoxynoona]

Beta Reading Commissions - Spaces Available!

Well hi folks! I am opening some beta reading commissions! I looked into doing this through my Patreon (which is here), but that platform isn’t great for commissions; eventually I may open a recurring “Writer’s Group” tier there with limited seats and benefits that would include beta reading, workshopping, individual feedback sessions, etc. 

But for now, I’m just going to open some spaces for one-off beta-reading services, either directly here or through ko.fi here http://ko-fi.com/foxymoxy/commissions

I will edit this post as soon as the limited spaces are filled, so if this post says Spaces Available, they’re still open!

Photo by Lisa from Pexels 

FOXYMOXY BETA COMMISSIONS

Prices are blocked by word count below and may include multiple stories up to the word limit.

Beta reading can include all of the following (prices don’t change, but you can opt out of anything you don’t want)

-- Line by line editing with trackable changes (so you can see and choose what grammar and punctuation suggestions to keep or discard from your work.)

-- In-line comments/questions/suggestions

-- At least half a page of written feedback, if desired

Projects will be completed in the order in which they are received with progress and queue tracked on a Trello board. My goal will be to complete all projects within 30 days of receiving payment but this is not guaranteed so please discuss deadlines with me at time of commission if necessary

I reserve the right to refuse and refund based on subject matter, but I am pretty open in general. Writing can be fanfiction, nonfiction, general fiction, any fandoms, though I may not have as much familiarity with other fandoms. 

I’ll use Paypal to directly invoice (please be aware this means I will see your name and will need your email, and vice versa) as goods & services. Full payment is due at start of project. Or you can sign up through ko.fi here: http://ko-fi.com/foxymoxy/commissions

Up to 5,000 Words - $10

Up to 10,000 Words - $20

Up to 30,000 Words - $50

Please DM me if you are interested, or if you have any questions or special projects you want to discuss (such as more in-depth analysis or longer projects)! 😘

[3hobbitsinatrenchcoat]

I posted 3,636 times in 2021

105 posts created (3%)

3531 posts reblogged (97%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 33.6 posts.

I added 1,183 tags in 2021

#for queue and for ruin - 334 posts

#gravity falls - 254 posts

#lotr - 113 posts

#tolkien - 98 posts

#long post - 77 posts

#the hobbit - 72 posts

#stanley pines - 67 posts

#star wars - 59 posts

#star trek - 55 posts

#stanford pines - 54 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#this reminds me of my grandfather's prof who fell out a window while mid-lecture and came back in through the door five minutes later still

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Broke, overused, appropriative: Referring to things as your “spirit animal”

Woke, fresh, makes you sound like a warlock: Referring to things as your “patron cryptid”

89 notes • Posted 2021-06-22 02:18:50 GMT

#4

@forduary Week 1 - Hurt/Comfort

The boys got into a bit of a scrape in the Arctic and Ford caught a bad case of the sniffles. Stan fell asleep trying to get Ford to sleep so now they’re both passed out. 

That’s... all the context I’ve got. Its been... many many years since I did anything that even came close to a full scene. I really enjoyed all the little details so click through to see them a little better!

101 notes • Posted 2021-02-12 05:21:51 GMT

#3

I made a silly uquiz with my favorite niche pairings from the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings.

It’s very short, please enjoy.

153 notes • Posted 2021-09-23 22:58:38 GMT

#2

This is my favorite Mabel sweater. I’m mostly posting it for attention because... I finished a project! I compiled all of Mabel’s sweaters into a handy dandy spreadsheet with timestamps and everything! Gonna post the link in a reblog so tumblr doesn’t disappear this post. Watch this space!

219 notes • Posted 2021-02-20 10:29:22 GMT

#1

Alright strap in its

EMOTIONAL JOURNEY TIME WITH GOLDBERRY

I’ve been doing a lot of staring at Gimli lately, trying to figure out his beard so I can make it and I noticed something (probably unintentional but still) that has ripped my heart completely out.

See how their mustaches are braided? I’d say it’s coincidence but the only other two dwarves that braid their mustaches like this are Bifur (who has them tied off quite differently) and Nori (who pulls his far to the side). Not to mention in his more formal dress, Gimli caps them with barrel beads.

(addendum: I don’t even want to get into the braids at the sides of Gimli’s head because I’m already weeping)

Now I cannot stop thinking about small Gimli, who looked up to his cousins, who wanted so badly to go with them on the quest… learning of their deaths. Trying to preserve them in any way he could. Braiding his mustaches like his cousin.

And I can’t stop thinking about what Fili’s braids might have looked like when he grew older, if he had lived.

Just. I’m emotional now.

551 notes • Posted 2021-08-15 23:22:42 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[thebluestbluewords]

I posted 1,744 times in 2021

115 posts created (7%)

1629 posts reblogged (93%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 14.2 posts.

I added 790 tags in 2021

#blue’s queue - 161 posts

#blue's queue - 108 posts

#my fic - 97 posts

#descendants cast - 88 posts

#descendants - 82 posts

#incorrect descendants - 58 posts

#mal bertha - 56 posts

#descendants fic - 50 posts

#not descendants - 49 posts

#evie grimhilde - 41 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#“omg yeah it’s just been so great learning how to be good. we haven’t had to go through a single trial by poison since we’ve been here!!”

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Waking Up is Hard to....

Mal having a moment, part of a larger project I'm slowly chugging away on. ~1500 words

*

“Oh gods, ouch.” Mal mutters, mostly to herself. There’s something heavy and sharp resting on her face. Maybe Evie left one of her hair combs in the bed again, and Mal’s somehow rolled over onto it and gotten it stuck in her face. “Geoff, Evie--” Mal mutters, swiping at the thing. It doesn’t shift, and she whacks at it harder, making contact with the top of it--

Mal snaps awake. Shit, shit and crap. That’s feathers she’s whacking, which means Diablo is here, and her mother--

Diablo caws his stupid cackling laugh, and releases a coil of scrap paper from his beak directly into Mal’s eye.

“Get out of here you stupid bird,” Mal tells him, sitting up and shoving the creature off of her face. “Who let you in, you bastard? Did you break open my skylight again?”

The bird cocks his head, looking at her with his beady, all too intelligent eyes. “Caw. Caw.” he croaks out, body still and resting intensely on Mal’s thigh. “Caw.”

Ugh. “I hate you, dumbass.” Mal tells him. “Go look for water in the sink, I’m sure one of the others will get a bowl for you.”

Diablo hops up from Mal’s leg and wings his way up onto her partition. He’s not letting her out of his sight, which is never a good sign.

“I’m reading it, I’m reading it,” Mal yawns, unrolling the paper scrap. It’s soft from use, and covered in her mother’s looped handwriting.

Mal, the note reads. I’ve come across some interesting information about your assignment. Come to the tower at 4am sharp. Do not try to hide from me or Diablo has been instructed to peck your eyes out and bring them to me on a plate. Don’t fail me. -M

Well then. There’s not many functioning clocks left on the isle, but Mal happens to have one of the best engineers on the isle living in-house, so she’s got an actual alarm clock in her bedroom corner. Sure, the letters glow pink instead of a more evil color, and there’s a princess holding a lemon slice sitting on top of it, but it works better than the bells and Maleficent is dangerous when Mal is late for a summoning.

3:26. Half an hour then, to get ready and cross the market territory without waking up the others or getting caught by anyone who’s still up and about and ready to do an unattended young villain harm.

Mal is more worried about what Evie will say if she gets caught than any potential danger from the pirates, if she’s being honest.

Okay. Up, roll quietly off the mattress that she’s spent more pleasant hours on than an alpha bastard like her deserves, and grab clothes off the pile on the floor. Pants are easy, belts are harder, because they click. Can’t go without one, because belts are part of her armor. Her sleep shirt is fine, a thin tank top in black and green that Evie pulled out of the scrap pile and repurposed for her. It’s cheap fabric, and not meant to hold up under attack, but she’s not her jacket for that. The thick layers of leather have served her well so far, and a quick jaunt across the hidden rooftops of the isle might wake up a few sleeping occupants of the buildings under her, but won’t result in anything more than a few yells if she’s lucky, and a bottle or two to dodge if she isn’t.

Mal’s feeling lucky tonight.

Out of her corner, slipping under the curtain so the sound of the rings won’t wake Carlos, who is a notoriously light sleeper, and--

“Mal?”

Caught.

“Hey, furball.” Mal says, turning to face a red-eyed Carlos, who is sitting up on his mattress and watching her a little too closely for someone who just woke up. “My mother’s little message disturb you too?”

He yawns. “Yeah.”

“Well, if I’m not back by the sixth bell or so, send a search party, okay?”

“Can-do,” Carlos says, and yawns again. “If you’re not back we’ll assume you’re in the dungeon again, yeah?”

Ugh. “Probably.” Mal agrees. “Unless she’s feeling really creative and puts me out on the window ledge.”

“The worst.” Carlos agrees, sleepily. “If you die I want your serrated knife back.”

Mal pulls it out of her belt. It’s a nice-ass knife, long and sharp and with a quick release that got outlawed in Auradon a few years back, leading to a flood of them on the isle. There was a newspaper about it that Doctor Facilier snapped up and paraded about the school for a day, and Mal remembers it because she’d to wrestle two more of the things away from Harmony and Devon before they got any bright ideas about sidekicks owning the fancy stuff.

She’d lost those knives shortly after taking them, one to Uma, as a gift, and one to Jay. She doesn’t miss them, but it would have been a smarter choice to hold on to them a bit longer, instead of gifting the green chromed one on to the first pretty omega girl who caught her eye after taking them. This one, dark grey and with a marbled handle, she got from Carlos after complaining that she missed her old ones one too many times for his liking. Things had still been strange and new between them, and Mal had taken the knife as soon as he’d offered it, without thinking about the potential weight behind the trade.

Too late now for regrets. What’s done is done, and the knife is hers now.

“Here,” Mal says, shaking the knife in Carlos’s direction. “Take it, dumbass. Insurance for getting me back in one piece.”

He squints up at her, not taking it. His face looks strange and grey in the faint light from the windows. “No,” he says. “That’s solid metal. If your mom tries to pull the magic eyes on you again you’ll need it more than I do.”

He’s right, but it feels important that Mal give him something to hold onto while she’s gone. Just in case.

There’s a knife in her boot that’s cheap and made of repurposed cans, but it’s small and quick and one of her favorites. Mal stores the folding knife away in her pocket, and pulls the tin one out instead.

“Here then,” says Mal, and drops the knife on the edge of Carlos’s mattress. “Take it, I’m not kidding. Insurance for me to get back. That one won’t do anything against my mother, not even if I throw it at her from a foot away. It’s too light, and her robes are too heavy to slash through anyway.”

“I get the lightweight knife, I see how it is.” Carlos says, picking it up and flickering it through his fingers. “You think I can’t handle your big bad machete?”

“You weigh about as much as my machete.” Mal shoots back, tugging on her jacket. Evie’s not staying with them tonight, and Carlos is already up, so she doesn’t have to worry so much about noise anymore. “You think they’ll feed us in Auradon?”

“Hope so.”

“Yeah. Don’t be stupid while I’m gone, okay?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I’ll try.”

“At least save any big explosions until I come back.” Mal says, only half joking. “If I’m going to come back to you torching the place I think I deserve to see it in action.”

That gets her a flicker of a smile. “Can-do.”

“Okay. Back in a tic.”

Carlos flicks a hand at her. “Run safe,” he says, quiet in the strange moonlit space where they’re not going to live for so much longer. “Come back before dawn.”

“Will-do, furball.” Mal promises, and slips out the door before she can wake anyone else.

The door falls shut behind her. It’s only three, and already it’s getting sticky-hot again. Late summer, ugh. How is a girl supposed to survive in this climate, honestly. Mal much prefers fall, when she can get away with wearing her heavier jacket all the time and not sweat through her undershirt the second she steps outside.

Diablo lands on her head. Stupid bird.

“I’m going to roast you like a chicken,” Mal whispers to him as she’s working her way up through the tangled mess of their outdoor escape and up onto the warehouse roof. “Put a stick through your ass and toast you on the fire, do you hear me? I don’t care what sort of enchantment my mother has you under. I will put you on a spit and stuff your ass with corn, see if I won’t.”

Diablo lifts one wing slowly, unfazed.

“Little asshole,” Mal mutters, mostly to herself. A few rooftops, and then she’s in the clear. Or more accurately, then she’s in the castle with only her mother and any henchmen she’s got hanging around to deal with…

Much better to just say that she’s in the clear.

25 notes • Posted 2021-11-10 02:35:17 GMT

#4

“....Mal?” Evie asks slowly. “Is everything okay?”

Mal rubs her arm over her face. She can’t look up at Evie, not right now. She’s not some stupid princessy type. She knows what she’s doing.

She shoves another handful of clothes in her backpack instead of answering. Clothes are always good to barter with. They’ll be useful to have, once she’s back home.

“Mal? Can you talk to me, babe?”

Mal can’t. It’s like there’s a rock in her throat, and she can’t speak around it.

Evie moves closer. Oh no.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Mal bursts out, before Evie can do something like try and touch her. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be this-- person they want me to be. I can’t do it anymore! I want to go home.”

“Mal--”

Evie’s going to do the same thing that the others did, she’s going to tell Mal that she can’t go home, ever, and home sucked actually and she shouldn’t want to go back because even her own stupid feellings are wrong now and she can’t even get this one thing right. She’s going to say that Mal is wrong for wanting this, and Mal is going to do something terrible if she has to hear Evie, her best friend in the whole world, in the whole stupid castle, tell her that she’s wrong again, so the words just keep on spilling out because Mal. Can’t.

She can’t hear it again.

“I can’t!” Mal shouts, before Evie can get the words out. “I don’t care what Ben says, I can’t be the person he wants me to be! I want to go home and I don’t care what the others think about it!”

It hurts to even say the words.  Everyone is going to hate her forever, and it hurts even more because Mal is pretty sure, somewhere in the frozen place where her heart used to live, that Evie is going to hate her for this more than anyone, more than her sort-of-boyfriend already does, and once Mal can get home and let her guard down it’s going to come back, all the feelings that she’s been missing for these awful, terrible months of trying to be good and it’s going to--

Well.

That’s--

Mal’s never been good with feelings, but she’s pretty sure that her breath hitching up like this is one of the bad ones. One of the not so princess-approved ones.

Evie puts a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, sweetheart,” she says, and it’s so soft that Mal doesn’t know how to feel about it, about the fact that Evie doesn’t seem to be mad yet. Evie is supposed to be mad at her just like the boys had been when she’s asked them to come with her, and it’s not fair that she isn’t reacting how she’s supposed to. Mal doesn’t have the energy for this. She can’t-- figuring out people’s reactions used to be something else she was good at, back home on the isle, but she doesn’t have the energy for it now, not when she’s breathing around a lump in her throat so solid it’s threatening to choke her completely.

“I-- I--”

Evie’s hard moves, firm and sweet and just right between Mal’s shoulders. “Breathe, Mali.” she directs.

Mal breathes.

“I’m going home.” she says, once she can speak again. “Everyone here hates me, all the royals and the people and the reporters and-- and our classmates. They all hate me, Eves, I know they do. I’m not good enough for their precious prince and they hate me for it and they’re right. I don’t deserve to be this person they think I am! I’m not supposed to be here. I can’t do it.”

At some point in the last minute, Evie’s hand has moved off of Mal’s back. It’s wrong to miss the touch when she doesn’t deserve it, but Mal wants Evie’s hand back anyway.

Read the whole thing on ao3!

26 notes • Posted 2021-03-20 21:51:40 GMT

#3

it’s not trouble if you don’t get caught

(This is from an ask game! I don’t have a lot of followers but I really liked the prompts so I threw them into a number generator and I’m treating this as a writing exercise!)

🖕 - someone touches your character in a way that's rude or that they just don't like (i.e. shoves past them, etc). what do they do? + Carlos

Unlike Mal or Evie, if somebody touches Carlos in a way he doesn’t like (in this case let’s say….somebody shoves past him and knocks something out of his hand. It may or may not be intentional, short people are easy to overlook and all, but it’s still rude and he’s not here for it) there’s not going to be any immediate retaliation. He’s not the kind of person who hits people outright like Mal does, and while he does make snarky comments, they’re usually under his breath rather than right to somebody’s face and wrapped in a smile like Evie does. If somebody touches Carlos in a way he doesn’t like, they might think they’re getting away with it. He’s easy enough to overlook most of the time, and that’s how he likes it, thanks very much.

But oh. Oh no.

When you’re crying on the floor a week later because somebody yanked the guts out of your deodorant can and replaced them with pepper spray? When you somehow lose all of your pens for two weeks straight and have to use the Giant Pencil Of Shame? When that loose bucket of chalk dust somehow makes its way to the top of the classroom door and also onto somebody’s head?? That’s him. (It’s a valuable lesson. He’s just offering some learning aids. Hands-on experience is always best. That’s it, and no other reasons.)

27 notes • Posted 2021-03-19 17:46:54 GMT

#2

Cultural Enlightenment

(because they’re….gonna steal the wand….making the museum one object lighter…yea I’ll see myself out)

~800 words, core four being themselves and having a time on their first night!

*

“Hall of villains?” Evie wonders out loud, looking at the sign. “What the hell are they keeping in there, when we’re all locked up on the island? If they’re keeping like, old bodies in there, that’s not going to be a very cute look.”

“Do you wanna find out?” Mal asks, leaning past her to look at the map. “It’s… right above us.”

“Aw, are you going to take me on a cute date to see the remains of whatever our parents left here?” Evie coos, leaning in to brush her cheek against Mal’s. “That’s so romantic, babe.”

Mal presses a kiss to her cheek, so fast it’s just a brush of her lips over Evie’s skin. “For you, princess, I’d show you the fresh remains of our parents.”

“So romantic, babe.” Evie coos, before breaking into giggles. “Come on, let’s go see what they think of us here in Auradon.”

+

Unsurprisingly, the answer to Evie’s question is badly. Very, very badly.

“Best known for his crimes against the royal family of Agrabah,” Carlos reads. “Jafar was brought down by his own greed, and remained imprisoned in the very lamp that he coveted for nearly a decade before his exile. This story-- oh, they’re trying to moralize it. This story serves as an example of how pure ambition without the tempering force of goodness can easily tip over into evil, blah blah BLAH, nothing about the insanity?”

“He wasn’t as insane before he got trapped in a lamp for fifteen years.” Jay says, poking around the other side of the room. “Apparently he even got laid sometimes.”

“Gross, don’t make me think about you dad getting laid,” Evie complains. “I’m trying to see if there’s any magic left in these herbs they have on display for my mom.”

“Yeah, I don’t wanna know what they have for my mom.” Mal says, poking at the label for Evie’s mom. “Is it like, her dried up eggshell from when she hatched?”

“Ew, Mal!”

“What? She’s a dragon, I’m pretty sure she hatched from an egg.”

“Ugh, does that mean you’d lay eggs too?” Evie wonders out loud, making a face that’s far too close to considering for Mal’s liking.

“Sterile in the egg department, no worries there!” Mal says quickly, slapping an open hand to the flat plane of her stomach. Unlike some people, she wasn’t foolish enough to overeat at dinner, and isn’t quietly trying to nurse a stomach ache as well as her magic-induced headache. “I’m never laying eggs of any kind, and if I did, I’d make you losers eat them.”

Evie shoots her a look. “Gross, babe.”

“Not as gross as this,” Carlos murmurs, eyes flickering back and forth over a plaque faster than Mal can follow. “Listen. The Evil queen used many ingredients in her charms and spells, including the beating heart of animals, whatever, and the essence of an alpha male during his time of quickening.”

“That’s the prissiest way I’ve ever heard someone say semen.” Mal says. “Like, just say come if that’s what you mean, right?”

“Right,” Evie agrees. “It’s not like it’s a big deal. Half the population’s probably swallowed some at one point or another. It’d be grosser if she was like, milking pregnant people for their breastmilk, and before you say anything, it’s different during pregnancy, that’s why I was being specific.”

Ugh. “Gross.” Mal complains. Body fluids are disgusting, and she’s never going to have a kid with anyone.

“Your mom also used chicken feet to cure her own crow’s feet, apparently.” Carlos says, still reading. “Why are they printing this stuff? Some kid is going to come in here and try making their own potions of youth or whatever.”

“No, the innate power of goodness is going to temper them,” Evie says, eyes enormous. “Don’t you know that’s how it works when you’re good?”

“Good children would never throw fireworks into a vat of tar just to see what’ll happen,” Jay adds. “That’s why they have to teach us these things now. We don’t know on our own.”

“I hate you all.” Carlos says, to the room at large.

“We know, baby,” Evie says, throwing an arm over his shoulders. “We know.”

“Like, if I could make a potion that’s just some chicken feet and like, blood or whatever, I don’t even care what it does. I’m trying that shit out.”

“It also takes magic,” Evie says gently. “Which, unless you have the same headache as the rest of us do, I don’t think you have, baby.”

Jay looks mildly alarmed. “Headache? It’s not just there, in the back of your mind?”

Mal whips around to stare at him. “What?” She demands. “What do you mean, sitting there? It’s like a hangover headache. It hurts.”

Jay looks equally alarmed at this information. “The magic, yeah?  I can feel where it’s sitting. It’s in the back of my head, like right where that bump in my skull is. At the back.”

“It’s like a sinus headache,” Evie says, staring at both of them. “We looked it up in the mirror. I told it a rhyme and everything, and it said that the headache is a result of magic that we’ve never felt before, and our bodies are like, adjusting. Like magic is dust in the air.”

32 notes • Posted 2021-12-01 19:07:07 GMT

#1

Sort of Like Papercuts

~400 words of nonsense that‘s not not set in my ongoing ot5 ’verse. (mostly very silly, references to child neglect/abuse)

*

“I wasn’t allowed out of the house as a kid,” says Carlos, struggling to tie a knot in one of the gym ropes. “I think I might’ve missed out on some—important life skills for a while.”

“Oh my gods, get over it, baby.” Evie calls over her shoulder. “I wasn’t allowed to leave my castle for like, six years.”

“Uh. What?” Ben asks. “Also, why are you tying the climbing ropes together?”

“We’re helping set up for class tomorrow.” Evie says immediately. “Also, none of your business.”

Hm. “Just checking” Ben says. “Because it looks like you’re tying the ropes into a giant spiderweb.”

“Helping.” Evie repeats. “It’s for a team building exercise.”

Carlos makes a noise that could conceivably be a cough, if you didn’t know him. “Yeah, how long will it take to untie the ropes”

“You’re not helping,” Evie calls back, and she sounds sweet still, but it’s probably a good idea to just move on from whatever is happening with the climbing ropes. “it’s teamwork skills. Our class needs to work on those.”

“Can we come back to the thing where you both weren’t allowed out of your houses? For years?” Ben asks. “Because that seems like kind of a big thing?”

Carlos drops his tangle of ropes. “I was allowed out. Bad choice of words.” he says, moving over to the next set. He’s not looking up, which could just be dedication to the task. Inconvenience-based mischief is a top priority for him, so it wouldn’t really be out of character if that’s the only reason he won’t look at them.

“Are you sure?” Ben asks anyway, just in case it’s not, and he’s going to need to be the stable, normal one later. It’s best to be prepared for these things.

Evie drops her own ropes, which are tied in neat pairs of knots traveling down the full length, and starts in on the floor tangle that Carlos abandoned. “He wasn’t allowed to leave the house alone until he was eight,” she says. “That right, C?”

“Eight or nine.” Carlos admits, from where he’s seemingly given up on ropes and is instead collecting all of the scooter boards that the high school keeps around for moving heavy equipment with. “I dunno how old exactly.”

So, probably a thing then. Anything that comes back to the gaps in the VK’s history— Carlos’s age, Jay’s mother, Mal’s magic, always turns out to be a sensitive topic.

Well, in for a penny and all that.

“That’s— protective family, huh?” Ben says. “That must’ve sucked.”

“Possessive.” Carlos corrects. “Not protective. She was convinced I’d be stolen.”

“Like—“

He kicks one of the boards to send in slamming into the wall. In the echoey space of the gym, it sounds almost like a gunshot. “Like a pet, yeah.”

39 notes • Posted 2021-03-31 19:40:23 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[shamelesslymkp]

I posted 5,484 times in 2021

1495 posts created (27%)

3989 posts reblogged (73%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 2.7 posts.

I added 6,707 tags in 2021

#queue me up scotty - 1752 posts

#schrödinger's content warnings - 1143 posts

#fic recs - 1143 posts

#via:pinboard - 1142 posts

#i eat fic for breakfast - 1142 posts

#fic recs: supernatural - 149 posts

#ain't no other mkp - 125 posts

#fic recs: dcu - 70 posts

#source:biggest-gaudiest-patronuses - 23 posts

#fic recs: avatar - 18 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#and reading the author's words about how upsetting and close to home this may be for readers and they understand if people can't keep readin

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

y’all i’m fucking dying here

on the one level, this is just. incredibly hot and sweet and oops they accidentally kink. (psst @gentledomcas if you have not seen this one yet um please do not run but do walk swiftly towards the ao3, I feel you will not regret it)

on the other level, this is the most olympic level of intricate rituals i have ever seen, holy shit

“Cool,” he says, even though ‘cool’ is the last word he would use to describe the way he feels right now. This is the least cool he thinks he’s ever felt in his life. He can’t believe he’s going to have sex with his best friend for a damn case.

But it doesn’t mean anything, right? And it certainly doesn’t make him gay. No, this is to  help out some poor gay porn stars who have landed themselves in psych wards because of some sort of bigoted spirit. Dean’s just helping them out, and if he has to get his hands dirty in a way that’s a little different than usual, well, he’s man enough to do it.

DEAN: I can’t believe I’m going to have sex with that angel, record it, and upload it to the internet.

LITERALLY ANYONE ELSE: well, you don’t have to --

DEAN: No, I’m gonna.

10 notes • Posted 2021-07-27 14:59:53 GMT

#4

Hey, I posted the plagiarism thing. We think that the Revenge series might be plagiarized from a destiel fic by apokteino called With Understanding, but the challenge is, the original is deleted - apokteino removed their account last winter. If I got you the PDF do you think you could check? (I'd dm but your box is closed to people not following you, sorry. You should be able to message me?)

for sure! let me see if i have an archived copy, too, although it doesn't sound familiar

ETA: no, I don’t have a copy archived. but if someone gets me a copy to read, I can for sure check it out!

13 notes • Posted 2021-08-04 22:47:24 GMT

#3

...it is so fucking weird reading fic about ‘lifestyle’ kinksters written by people completely outside of the scene, because it’s not exactly that they’re getting it wrong, I’m sure some people do in fact manage their kink relationships in such a way, but they write it like it’s standard and I’m just like... have you ever... talked to someone actually in the scene? or just read fantasies on fetlife.

like, I’m not judging, exactly - it’s like the fanon standard version of bdsm clubs, which are clearly based more on other fan representations of bdsm clubs than anything else, and have a lot of inspiration from (probably) porn and the old leather traditions, it’s certainly a subset of kink culture, it’s just. really fucking weird when people write it as the standard.

I suppose other people might find it weird when I write lifestyle kinkster fics based on the contemporary DC scene, though, so.

I am pretty excited about the fact that I’m finally seeing kinkster fics written by people who clearly do have experience in the scene, I knew they had to be somewhere.

14 notes • Posted 2021-03-09 23:11:45 GMT

#2

WAIT WHAT THE FUCK @rthstewart​ WHEN DID APOSTOLIC WAY GET FINISHED HOLY SHIT I THOUGHT IT WAS STILL A WIP HOW DID I MISS THIS IT WAS FINISHED IN 2013??????????????????????????????

17 notes • Posted 2021-03-28 12:50:29 GMT

#1

Shameless Self-Promotions:

MKP on the AO3 | MKP’s Fic Recs on Pinboard

MKP’s Fic & Fannish Content: @thefannishmkp | MKP’s Poetry & Original Content: @theoriginalmkp | MKP’s Poetry Fan Blog: @anotherarspoetica | MKP’s ND Reaction Gifs Blog: @hashtagactuallyautisticreactions

MKP’s Sequel to the Annotated Dean: @theannotateddean

Before You Follow: Content Warnings

WARNING THE FIRST: This blog is sometimes NSFW and occasionally contains images, videos, and writing of the pornographic variety (more specifically of the kinky variety). Blacklist the words "NSFW" and "KINK" to only see the vanilla geeky gleefulness. I also recommend blacklisting either my "i eat fic for breakfast" or "via:pinboard" tags due to the automated feed of fics I've recently bookmarked on pinboard, which include a copy of the original author's AO3 tags in the content of the text post. Please note that if you are using Tumblr's native blacklist function, you must blacklist the specific tags "nsfw for kate's bls" and "kink for kate's bls" to ensure the posts are filtered. Update, July 2019: While I do comply with Tumblr's ban on adult-only (visual) content, I do reblog and/or post explicit and/or kink-related content (particularly resources) from time-to-time. This means that this is still an ADULTS-ONLY blog! If you are under 18 (or whatever the legal age is in your country), Stop. Do not pass go. Unfollow my blog. Do not look at my archive. Do not like or reblog explicit or kinky materials I have posted or reblogged. Come back when you’re older. This is mainly an honor system kind of thing, but if I happen to discover a minor following me, I will a) ask you to unfollow immediately and b) block you if necessary. WARNING THE SECOND: Unfortunately, due to a frequent lack of spoons and an increasing reliance on phoneblogging, I no longer can commit to regularly tagging content on this blog. I still try to tag for (at the very least) NSFW and kinky content, and for common triggers such as sucidal ideation, talk about self-harm, etc., but I cannot commit to it. I sometimes manage to tag posts about politics or discourse, but not always. Please protect yourself and follow with caution.

17 notes • Posted 2021-04-18 17:23:16 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[cotncandyboifics]

1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 8

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 9 ~

Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality

Word count: 2,407

Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.

Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.

Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.

Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.

what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?

General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: food, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: alternate title: Virgil's very subtle epiphany. also Patton has a gay panic moment lol

...

Slam.

Monday morning. Mr. Berry was slapping a small poster on each student's desk like a stamp, one-by-one and painfully slowly.

"This," he began, "Is the official welcome to the schoolyear; audition posters for the Fall Talent Show." His bloated belly hardly fit between the desk rows, and students made futile attempts to scoot away from him before they were bombarded by his tyrannical tummy. "As a retired thespian and a life long supporter of theatre and the arts," he continued, bringing his pile of posters to his chest in his passion, "I highly recommend you at least consider looking into auditions. Everyone has a passion, or at least a hobby, and the talent show is a perfect freelance opportunity to show off your skills."

Roman rolled his eyes too dramatically. This was upsetting him more than he thought it would, and his eyes shot daggers up at his large superior as he slammed the next poster onto Roman's desk.

"Auditions will be held next week, on the specified dates. The show itself will be two weeks later, I believe on Friday night. Be there, and I will award you some extra credit points. All you must do is present me with your ticket, which must have your name on it," he eyed a few mischievous students in the room, "With a stamp on it from the Talent Show admissions booth, on the following Monday." As soon as Mr. Berry had given a poster to Virgil and moved on, Virgil quietly crumpled it and shoved it into a random part of his backpack, proceeding to fold his arms on his desk and put his head down. This caught Roman's attention, and his subconscious latched onto formulating a teasing remark for after class as a distraction from his own feelings about the Talent Show.

After class, the usual place where Roman and Virgil were shortly alone and had a short interaction - most often consisting of some insufferable tease from Roman or occasionally a debate spurred by Virgil making a witty side comment - the two met once again. After their first class of the day was usually the only time they were both at their lockers at the same time, as it happened, and Virgil was always thankful that it was the only time. Since their assignment to the Biology project, however, Roman had taken to walking with Virgil from their English class to their lockers and beginning his bouts of banter prematurely.

"Not a fan of the infamous talent show, are we?" Roman paced quickly over to Virgil, who had just made it outside the classroom door as they'd been dismissed. Virgil huffed in defeat as his attempt to escape before Roman could catch him had been fruitless.

"It's ridiculous," Virgil didn't slow his pace for Roman, and began essentially speedwalking down the hall. Roman was slightly taller than him and was able to keep up, but still got a little out of breath doing it. "Hey everyone, come and show everyone in the school something you really enjoy so they can all collectively judge you and make you self conscious about your interests and - oh no! you don't wanna do it anymore because you feel horribly inadequate? shoooot. Sorry man, no one could have seen that coming. Oh well, better luck next year when you'll just ruin a different passion for yourself!" Virgil flailed his hands at the end of his mini-rant.

"How can you stay that sarcastic for that long consecutively? I'm honestly impressed," Roman said, huffing as they arrived at their lockers. Virgil's permanent frown seemed to somehow deepen. "Though, I guess I really can't argue, Count Woe-laf. I see your point. The pressures of an impromptu performance are... undeniable." Roman focused his attention on the padlock hanging from the latch of his locker, while Virgil looked to him with widened eyes.

"Really?" He didn't look away from Roman until he would look back.

"What?" Roman defended.

"It's just..." Virgil focused on his own padlock now, "You never agree with what I say. It always becomes a debate," he pulled his locker open lazily, pulling his backpack off his shoulders and putting it on backwards so that he could more easily exchange things. When Roman didn't reply, he continued, "like... I don't know. Why is it any different now?"

Roman was exchanging things as well, and didn't have an immediate answer. Well, he knew the answer (or in this case, answers), but it wasn't one he was even ready to admit to himself, let alone anyone else, and especially let alone Virgil. He just eventually shrugged.

This reaction only further alarmed Virgil. He opened his mouth to continue his flabbergasted interrogation, but the bell rang right at that moment. Roman slammed his locker shut suddenly.

"Well, that's our queue I suppose. See you tonight, Incredible Sulk." Roman elbowed Virgil in the shoulder a bit awkwardly and began skipping down the hall to his next class. That left a dumbfounded and nearly-panicking Virgil standing in front of his open locker in an almost completely empty hall.

He wished Roman would stop leaving him like that.

...

Roman had texted the Biology Project group chat that weekend, saying he had an important football practice on Monday that went until 5. they'd have to have their meet-up at Roman's a bit later in the evening. Logan simply waited it out by heading to the school library to get his other homework done, while Patton and Virgil shot the breeze, walking down random hallways of the school.

The two of them were grabbing a snack from a vending machine when Virgil checked his phone. It was 4:50. They got their respective snacks - Patton got a strawberry Pop tart and Virgil got a Sunny D - and made their way to the designated meeting place. It was a concrete bench at the front of the school. They expected to find Logan there, but he wasn't. The two of them simply sat on the cold bench and exchanged bits of each other's snacks, and continued talking until Virgil noticed someone approaching.

He figured it would be Logan, but this person was shorter and more filled out than Logan. He trained his eyes better and realized that it was Roman. Roman, who happened to have a towel around his neck and sopping-wet crimson curly hair unabashedly on display. A drip of water rolled down his cheek and along his jawline, and Virgil realized he was staring. Roman finally got within conversation distance.

"Like what you see, Charlie Frown?" He teased. Patton looked to Virgil, noticing his awe, and giggled.

"Hah, in your dreams, Meta Knight," Virgil deflected half-heartedly, still finding it hard to pull his eyes away from Roman's unfortunate perfection. It was only worse that Roman knew just how attractive he was.

"Why's your hair all wet, silly?" Patton asked, standing energetically to greet him.

"We rinse off after practice. I considered leaving my shirt off so i could just get a clean one when i got home, but i knew that might be a bit too much to handle for some of us," Roman elbow-nudged Patton, who just giggled again and pushed his glasses up. Virgil knew that was extremely forced, especially after their conversation on Friday.

"Well," Roman checked his wristwatch, "Where would my nerdy Wolverine happen to be? It's ten past, and if there's anything Logan certainly is, it's punctual."

"Quite right you are," a stern voice came from behind them, to reveal Logan's lengthy form approaching casually. "My apologies for my tardiness. I got quite engaged in a particular Physics problem." Roman turned to him smiling, and pecked him on the cheek. Virgil didn't need to look at Patton to feel his friend's heart sink through the floor.

"Shall we then?" Roman turned to lead the way on the five-block journey to his house.

...

"hmm, that reminds me," Roman said from his sprawled position on his bed, "what are all your sexualities?"

That sure caught everyone's attention. The clock beside Roman's bed read 6:28 PM. Logan was studying their plants and taking notes, Patton had been cooing quietly to Roman's pet turtle, and Virgil was sitting in Roman's spinning desk chair scrolling on his phone. They all looked at Roman at once, and then at each other.

"Heh," Roman sat up, "My apologies for blurting such an intrusive question, I was just looking up at my-" he gestured toward his ceiling- "glorious flag, and it made me wonder. No man must answer that which he does not desire to." Roman was blatantly referring to the Bisexual flag that was pinned to the ceiling above his bed. They all looked at it, and back at him. "I suppose it's obvious now, but yes, I am undeniably bisexual," He faux bowed.

The silence wasn't doing anyone good, so Patton broke it before it got too much more awkward. "I, I'm gay," he said sheepishly, continuing to observe the turtle. Virgil gave him a soft smile, and decided to offer himself up next.

"I'm pan," he seemed to recoil further into his hoodie, if that were even possible. Logan turned to the other three, adjusting his necktie.

"I'm not usually one to admit this to many people, but since you have all been so transparent and calm about such personal information," He started, "I am comfortable telling you that I am Asexual."

No one regarded this with much surprise, except for Roman. "Oh really?" He said, seemingly surprised and embarrassed. Virgil scoff-laughed at him.

"What, upset you can't make your sexual fantasies a reality?" Virgil teased. Roman gasped, bringing a hand to his chest in an offended gesture.

"Excuse me!" He exclaimed, a look of disgust contorting his face.

Before a classic Roman-Virgil debate could ensue, Patton decided to share his thoughts.

"Well, I, I mean, I'm not ace but I, I guess sex isn't really so important to me," he was fiddling with his ring yet again.

"W-well, it should never be the centerpiece of any relationship!" Roman declared. They all looked at him skeptically. "what? I mean, personally, I prefer grand gestures." As he spoke, he stood and walked to Logan. "In my opinion," he produced a pristine bouquet of deep red roses that none of the others had noticed anywhere in the room before, "they are the key to any person's heart."

Logan seemed tame, Patton thought. As if he were performing. If he were being his normal self, he would have been very confused by where Roman had hidden the bouquet, and how it looked so perfect after being concealed. Instead, he just took it with a very gentle sweet smile, and thanked him quietly. Instead of Logan, Patton was now the one confused.

Virgil's face was red, and his neck a blotchy pink; thankfully he was mostly hidden under his purple bangs and hood. He huffed and excused himself to use the restroom. Patton noticed this time, and grabbed his arm before he made it out of the room.

"You okay?" he whispered gently to Virgil. Virgil just looked at him, mustered a small smile and a nod. Patton knew exactly what that meant. Virgil was okay, he just needed a moment. He returned the smile, and released his gentle paternal grip on Virgil's arm, allowing him to leave.

There was the sound of someone calling Roman's name from another part of the house, and Roman excused himself, rushing off to find its source.

Logan slipped his phone into the pocket of his navy slacks. "Well, I must be going now," He began. Instead of reaching to gather his things, he trained his acute attention directly on Patton, who was startled by the sudden focus on him. "Patton, do you have a ride home today?"

"I, uh, well," He tried blurting out an excuse but none came to his mind. "No, not exactly..."

Logan was slowly approaching, and Patton tried to back up but hit the terrarium containing Roman's turtle after just one small step. "Would you like a ride? My parents would be more than happy to assist in your safe transport home."

"Well, well I really don't want to intrude, or-" He stopped dead when Logan placed a slender hand gently on his shoulder.

"I insist. It's no intrusion or burden to them. They appreciate being able to help others when they can, especially people whose company I enjoy." Logan didn't feel as though he was figuratively lying through his teeth, but he knew that his parents didn't exactly feel that way. The nature of the situation was more that they took kindly to those that Logan worked well with on academically related subjects, such as people from his study group or the like.

Patton caught himself before letting the thought "you enjoy my company?" escape his lips. He just smiled. He knew there was no way he could get himself to deny Logan's offer when his heart was taking the reins.

"I would.. really appreciate, a ride home, yeah," He said quietly. Logan was just looking into his eyes with a tenderness Patton hadn't seen before. He pushed away any thoughts that Logan may have looked at Roman the exact same way during their date. He hoped he hadn't, and cursed himself for hoping it.

"Wonderful," Logan pulled himself out of their shared momentary trance. "I will let them know. I'm sure they will find it a pleasure to become acquainted with you. They should be here in less than five minutes, so I suggest gathering your belongings." Logan's thumbs padded across is illuminated phone screen as he spoke, until he once again slid it into his pocket and began collecting his things along with Patton.

Virgil entered once again, hood off and face slightly red and wet. it was clear that he hadn't been crying due to the sporadic nature of the droplets of water across his face; it looked more like he'd just haphazardly washed his face in the sink and hadn't bothered to wipe the remnants away. Patton smiled at him brightly.

"Ah, Virgil," Logan addressed as he slung his bag over his shoulder, "It was pleasant to see you again. We are on our way out now. Are you ready, Patton?" He looked to Patton, who also slung his bag over his shoulder.

"Yep! Logan's giving me a ride," Patton blatantly could barely contain his excitement in his ever-growing grin, so Virgil only returned it with a small thumbs up.

"Alright, ill see you guys in class tomorrow," He hugged Patton tightly, and half-heartedly saluted to Logan without making eye contact. Logan simply nodded to him, and the two left shortly, leaving Virgil alone in Roman's room.

[catdadeddie]

blog tag!

tagged by @nymika-arts @tylerhunklin and @diazchristopher thank you!!

1. Why did you choose your url? I wanted a personal au and from eden by hozier is one of my favorite songs!

2. Any side blogs? I don't! I did for a little bit, but I can't handle doing side blog because I forget about them lmao.

3. How long have you been on Tumblr? Maybe 7 or 8 years? Could be longer tbh. I'm active on and off, I wasn't active for probably a year before coming back for the 911 fandom.

4. Do you have a queue tag? "queue" because for some reason just the q makes me feel weird, but I rarely queue things so I don't have a creative one.

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place? ha ha ha. the spn fandom. I got my best friend into the show and in turn she showed me fandom. and now she's not into fandom at all

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp? its pride month and I'm teaching myself how to make icons so a little bi eddie icon felt fitting.

7. Why did you choose your header? same as above, my bi heart is projecting on the lovely and very bisexual eddie. and I wanna learn headers. and its pride month.

8. What’s your post with the most notes? ROOMMATES CLOWNING. I can't escape it. My happiness set is like less than 50 notes from passing it, but nothing has touched that post.

9. How many mutuals do you have? 38, but I have plenty of friends that I don't follow tbh. Its nothing personal, just what I wanna see on my dash and all that.

10. How many followers do you have? 471!

11. How many people do you follow? - 50 (again I don't follow many people, it was at like 38 people a few weeks ago tbh)

12. Have you ever made a shitpost? I'm sure that's half my blog

13. How often do you use Tumblr each day?  we don't talk about it. (but not a bunch lately because I've been in a fic reading phase and been busy)

14. Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? yeah, I've had several. I get angry easily and people on here can be rather rude.

15. How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts? I think its bullshit tbh. If I wanna reblog, I will.

16. Do you like tag games? I do!! I'm just shit at doing them because I say "I'll do them later" and then forget.

17. Do you like ask games? Mixed feelings, I feel like I like the idea more then them in general. (but I'm gonna reblog them forever lmao)

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is Tumblr famous? I don't really know tbh. I know a bunch of my mutuals have high follower counts but what do you really consider "tumblr famous"

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual? every single one of them. they're the best!

tagging @buttercupbuck @zeethebooknerd @herochimney @cinematicnomad and @woodchoc-magnum

[smallblip]

Set phasers to stun!

Levihan | Rated for language/Mild mild mentions of doing the deed

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/27152473

Levi is second to Kenny in the Ackerman gang, it's a family business. Zoë Hanji walks up to him at a disco and the rest is history.

“Set phasers to stun, hot stuff?”

“Zoë.. I still don’t get that reference.”

It’s 9.30pm in Sina, the city that never sleeps. Neon flashes and the image of the serpent illuminates the wet cobblestone streets. It’s an institution- a club that has stood the test of time. It’s interior- an eclectic mix of red velvet couches, a disco ball, black and white tiling, and a disco dance floor. Everyone knows of it’s dubious ownership. Something about a gang- more specifically the Ackermans. But then again, you throw a pebble in Sina and you’re bound to hit an Ackerman establishment. Besides it’s the place to be, and it’s packed on a Friday night.

Who says disco is dead?

The music is good- the best in the city, the drinks are a little pricey but they are strong enough, and the DJ knows her well and queues her requests ahead of everyone else’s. There’s no other reason why it’s her favourite club, Hanji thinks.

She’s in the middle of her dance number to a medley of ABBA hits when she feels his gaze on her.

She makes her way over after he shakes his head at her attempts to get him to join her. She’s slightly disappointed that she has to leave in the middle of Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!, but it is what it is.

“Set phasers to stun, hot stuff?” Hanji says, coquettish.

“Zoë.” He says, “I still don’t get that reference.”

“Then maybe you should think about taking up my offer of a date, Levi...” Hanji says, slick as she leans against the counter.

“And your idea of a date would be to marathon the entirety of Star Wars?” Levi cocks an eyebrow and hands a drink to her.

“Star Trek. And yes. Maybe it’ll help you stay culturally relevant.” She accepts the drink and takes a gulp. A Long Island. Levi remembers. She grins.

“I’ll take your offer into consideration.” Levi says.

There are tattoos sprawling all the way up his neck and down to his hands and her eyes inevitably trail over the serpent tattoos on his chest that are peeking through his dress shirt. Levi notices, corner of his lips curving into a smile.

“So...” He says, “faculty still giving you problems for blowing up your lab?”

“Thank god no... I have the biggest research grant in the faculty, pretty sure they can’t get rid of me that easy. Plus the insurance covers so I’m good...”

“Maybe if you were more careful...” he chides, but his words are gentle and Hanji links her pinky with his. Definitely no other reason she loves this particular club.

“Wait for me, I have a few more songs queued,” she says, although some of the songs are medleys, but Levi doesn’t need to know that.

“One more song. I don’t have anything on tonight. We could go get something to eat.”

They compromise on two songs, with Hanji dragging Levi over to the dancefloor. “If I had known you were gonna dance with me, I would’ve picked a ballad...” she says in his ear as she tries to sway with him to Car Wash. “You didn’t give me much of a choice...” he replies as he twirls her.

The night air is welcome, and after a few hours in the club, Hanji’s ears are ringing. “Come on! I know a place!” She says, grabbing his arm as they make their way past the party people. They are sitting on a public bench as Hanji decimates a chicken shawarma. Levi’s face crumples in disgust as he watches her wipe the sauce off with the back of her hand, still, he passes the napkins to her wordlessly.

“It’s not good?” Hanji says, perplexed, “this is not a good shawarma?” Levi looks at her like she’s the biggest idiot. Because, of course it’s not good? It’s a dismal 1.9 stars in reviews online and their cleanliness leaves much to be desired.

“What gave you the idea it would be good?” Levi frowns, abandoning his greasy chips.

“It says so on the sign! ‘Best Shawarma in Town!’” Hanji says, and she’s climbing on the bench, waving her fist at the shop, “filthy liars!” she shouts.

And Levi laughs, pulling her down into his lap for a kiss.

→

The Serpent is busy on a Saturday night. It isn’t Nanaba and Mike’s typical scene, but Hanji’s enthusiasm for disco has always been contagious. Nanaba has acquired a taste for the Bee Gees.

Target acquired, Hanji makes her way across the dance floor. She excuses herself from her friends, and Nanaba holds Mike back before he can ask her where she’s going, I'll tell you later, she whispers harshly in Mike’s ear and waves Hanji off with a smile.

The crowd swallows her, moving to accommodate her form. She readjusts her dress. It’s black and tight and the slit threatens to expose more than Hanji is willing to show. Her usual club getup in a pile in the corner of her room, Hanji is wearing Nanaba’s dress and she thinks maybe her friend is an opportunist for passing her this particular article of clothing with a giggle and a casual “you can wear this Hans!”

There’s enough alcohol in her system to feel a buzz. Just enough to forget what Shadis had said about professionalism and having impeccable image and greater responsibility from here on, since she now tutors a bunch of freshers. She thinks maybe that can wait until tomorrow. Shadis was young once, he‘ll understand.

Besides, it’s the disco. Nobody here cares. It’s freeing and Hanji leans into it.

She makes her way to him once she decides she can’t get the slit to sit any better on her thigh. He’s alone at the bar, leaning against the counter, watching.

He turns his attention to her now, his hard gaze softening. His eyes wander, skimming across the neckline of her dress down to where her thigh is exposed. He clears his throat.

“What’s with this?” Levi gestures to her dress.

“This is me forgetting to do my laundry and having to borrow Nanaba’s clothes.” Hanji answers, eyes lighting up at an opening, she takes it, “like what you see?”

“You’re not your usual mess...”

“And you mind my usual mess?” She raises a brow.

“I never said I minded.“

Hanji wonders if it’s the spotlights or the gin, because her face is heating up. Someone is stumbling towards the bar counter, and Levi reaches to pull Hanji closer. His hand remains around her waist longer than necessary. But who’s talking about necessity. “You’re alright.” Levi says.

Hanji catches his gaze lingering on her lips and she smiles. He straightens, “how did your first tutorial go?”

“Aced it! Some of them even came for office hours!” Hanji beams, hands on her hips.

“Expected no less...” Levi says, lips curving into a smile.

Hanji grins, “so... Are you free tonight?”

“Maybe not tonight... I’ve got... Things to attend to...”

“Ah...” Hanji leans closer to Levi, “thug things?” She stage whispers.

Levi chuckles, “yeah.” He sets his empty glass down on the bar and he tells her he’s got some time to spare, and she gets his message. She tugs him towards the toilets, her other hand holding her dress down. They make out in one of the empty stalls and I Feel Love streams in, muted as it mingles in the air with the florescent lights.

“Apt...” Hanji murmurs against Levi’s mouth and he looks at her, quizzical.

“The song that’s playing... I Feel Love... It’s apt...” she answers, stilling the both of them so Levi can hear.

Levi laughs, he’s got a hand against the stall that she’s leaning against and he’s looking up at her. There’s a tint on his cheeks and his eyes are glazed over and Hanji takes it as her cue to kiss him again. And Levi’s hand slides along the curve of her waist, down to where the slit of her dress reveals bare flesh. His thumb circles against her skin and her breath hitches. He loosens his collar.

“We need to stop meeting like this...” Levi says, he’s going to be late for his appointment, but he’s transfixed and does nothing to indicate any sense of urgency. Work can wait.

“Mmm... But I like this... Reminds me of the first time we met...” She says as she kisses the beginnings of a smile on the corner of his lips.

“Can I see you tomorrow evening?” Levi says, breathless, because really, it’s stupid that they’re still playing this game. It’s not the 50s and he’s not a boy sitting in the bleachers singing about a girl he likes with his friends chiming in as backup. There is no need for the staring and the pining and the pretending to meet by chance at the disco.

“Finally taking up my offer on a date?” Hanji says, channeling all the composure she has left. But her breathing is heavy and her eyes are hooded, and the florescent lights are casting a lewd glow on Levi’s skin that makes her want to die. “I’ll see you at that diner at 7? The one near Sunset Boulevard. You know which one?” she asks.

“I know. You haven’t stopped talking about that diner.” Levi replies and presses one last kiss to her her cheek before he leaves.

When Hanji makes her way back to join Nanaba and Mike, her hair is a mess and although she’s managed to fix her makeup, there’s still a slight reddish stain where her lipstick was smudged, thank god for the lights.

The night ends with Mike holding a hand out for her as she steps up onto the bar counter to dance. Hanji usually has a certain amount of restraint by this time of the night but it’s the last song and they are playing Bad Girls, and that song has always made her feel some kind of way.

Nanaba is cheering her on before Hanji pulls her onto the bar to dance with her.

→

It’s 7pm and it’s crowded on Sunset Boulevard. There’s a good mix of people from small-time Politicians to thespians to bikers. Hanji has always loved this part of Sina, she thinks it’s apt for a date between a Chemist and a gangster.

Levi is dressed in a white tee and blue jeans and his leather jacket is folded beside him in the booth. And Hanji thinks maybe she’s projecting because she has grown up watching movies from the 50s and 60s. But she’s shamelessly staring at him, head held up by her hands as she sips on her milkshake.

He drinks his tea. And that snaps her from her reverie.

“Who comes to a diner and orders tea?”

“If you had taken two straws instead of one, we could be sharing that milkshake.” Levi says, impassive, and Hanji lights up like a bulb.

The food arrives and Hanji says between bites, “I’m learning so much about you... Levi likes tea, and Levi is not beneath sharing a milkshake with his favourite girl...”

Levi rolls his eyes, but his face breaks into a smile. Hanji hooks their ankles under the table.

“We could go to mine? Take the route along the river?” Hanji says after they pay the bill. She’s never one to beat around the bush and she grins when the realisation spreads on Levi’s face, he opens his mouth, but settles for a nod instead.

Hanji is holding Levi’s hand, even as the river meanders them through the fancy parts of the city. People are definitely staring, but Hanji is talking his ear off about the kids in her class and how they ask her about the process of producing meth and she just... tells them? Because it technically is just chemistry.

“How much detail did you get into?” Levi asks, raising a brow.

“Oh...” Hanji pulls a face that’s an embodiment of yikes, “a lot...”

Levi chuckles, “I’ll tell Kenny to keep a lookout for a bunch of brats graduating in three years...”

“Yeah you do that... The job market hasn’t been particularly kind these days, might actually be a good career option for them.”

People are staring at them because they kind of know who he is, and Hanji points it out with a there's people staring at you, Levi... That's what happens when you're hot huh...

“They’re staring at you weirdo...” Levi mutters, face heating, and Hanji is laughing with her head thrown back and the looks people give them get dirtier. But Hanji is equal parts crazy and just goddam brilliant, and nothing else matters. Except maybe-

“What do you want Kenny?” Levi growls into the phone.

“With that attitude it’s no wonder you can’t find a girl who loves you...” The voice barks through the receiver and Hanji stifles a laugh. “I need your ass down at the warehouse now!”

Levi runs his fingers through his hair and he’s closing his eyes, cursing whatever being that’s up there because they seem hell-bent on tormenting him.

“Thug things?” Hanji offers an apologetic look, “It’s okay... I’m a big girl, I can walk myself!” She says when Levi hesitates.

But really at this point she’s sorry for herself. It’s just been so long since she’s-, and she’s been thinking about Levi a little too much the curve of his lips and his-, and she wants nothing more than to-. Ugh. She bites down on the insides of her cheeks.

Levi sighs, a long-suffering breath of defeat, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in for a kiss. “Mmm... This was a nice date still...” she says, kittenish.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

→

Hanji thinks maybe it had been an oversight to sleep with someone in her postgraduate class. And the smartest one after her at that. Not to mention one who had also been aiming to do a PhD. Because now she’s in the same office as Erwin Smith and it’s kind of weird? Is it? She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, awkward. She opens her mouth to speak and Erwin sighs.

“Hanji... If you’re about to make another weird and honestly considering where we are,” Erwin gestures vaguely around their office, “inappropriate joke, I’m going to stop you right there.”

Hanji laughs and takes her seat across Erwin. “Wasn’t going to!” It had meant nothing. Just two people fooling around amidst the convenience of their shared love for organic chemistry. Hanji curses her younger self and what had been an inclination towards broad shoulders and solid pectorals. Hormones. Then again, it had meant nothing.

“So... What did you do over the weekend?” Erwin asks.

Hanji thinks about the about the bathroom stall of the club, and dancing on the bar counter, and the diner, and-

- and Levi.

She hopes her face isn’t giving anything away.

“Not much... You?”

→

And Levi does make it up to her. It's a Saturday and they are sitting on Hanji's couch marathoning Star Trek. Why are there so goddam many movies? Levi had said, exasperated. But he's on the third movie now and because of Hanji's unceasing commentary (except for when she sobs through The Wrath of Khan), he's starting to get it.

They make out on the couch mid-way through the fourth movie, with Hanji straddling him, and in the sliver of silence that makes its way between kissing and gazing at each other’s faces, Hanji chuckles a "this reminds me of the first time we met..."

Levi cocks an eyebrow, "how much of that night do you actually remember?" Hanji feigns a thoughtful expression, fingers tapping at her chin. "Not much..." she says honestly and Levi shakes his head, "you're hopeless," he says as he scrapes his teeth against her neck. She chortles.

Hanji's eyes flicker toward the television, it's a small movement, a little twitch, but Levi catches it. His face twists into something incredulous, and he's offended really, because it's probably the tenth ("sixth," Hanji corrects) time she's watched this and she’s choosing the movie over- over him? But they compromise and settle on pausing the movie for another time and moving to the bedroom.

→

It becomes a habit, this. This little unspoken arrangement. Hanji stays awake late to work on her paper, so she doesn't mind him knocking on the door at ungodly hours. And really she blames her dedication to her research for the mess she finds herself in one morning.

It starts with the jangle of keys outside her door, and by then, Levi is only just waking up. He shakes her when the footsteps approach, but it's far too little too late. Hanji only opens her eyes when she hears the screaming.

"Zoë Hanji! What is this!"

Hanji is fumbling for her glasses on the night stand and Levi hands them to her. Her eyes are wide and the adrenaline has chased all the sleep from her system.

“Mom? Dad?” Hanji and Levi have now hopped out of bed. She tries for words as she struggles to put her jumper on. She’s holding the duvet like a skirt around her otherwise very bare bottom, and it’s hard to manage that and putting clothes on. Levi helps her with the duvet. She doesn’t process that it’s Levi’s jumper and Levi has no choice but to put her t-shirt on. It’s big and old and Levi is Swimming in it. Well, at least he’s got pants on.

“Zoë! Who is this?”

“How can you just- You- You just came into my apartment?” She manages, because the sleepiness is gone, but the shock remains. Levi is completely mortified, he wishes the ground would swallow him faster because he’s standing there in a shirt with the words “my best friend went to Shiganshina and all I got was this crappy shirt” printed on it in tacky font.

“Our apartment! Don’t forget we own it Zoë! Now who is this! Don’t tell me you’ve been associating with gangst-“

“This is Levi... My boyfriend.”

Levi’s pulse quickens at that word. He gapes at Hanji, then at her parents, then at Hanji again. He wonders if it’s normal for people to turn that shade of grey because Hanji’s parents look every bit petrified. Mrs. Hanji points a trembling finger at him, she looks like she’s about to cry.

“What about Erwin? He’s a nice boy,” her father supplies and she caves, “dad... We were never together...”

There’s chatter, bits of ‘but you brought him home for dinner’ and bobs of ‘he’s doing his PhD too isn’t he?’

“I brought him to dinner to appease you...” Hanji says, her patience hanging by a thread because her mom is yelling something incoherent and her dad is still going on about Erwin.

Finally her mom had enough. “This is just a phase Zoë!”

“I’m twenty seven... I don’t think phases apply anymore?” Hanji laughs humourlessly.

Then the door slams after her mom shouts something about an ultimatum. Something about breaking up with Levi or getting evicted from the apartment.

“That was waaaay too much for the morning...” Hanji says, her voice slicing through the tension that had grown thick around them. She’s feigning an ease that does nothing to hide how frazzled she is. “Sorry about that... My mom can be a bitch when she’s angry... And well... She’s always angry...”

The insults Levi can handle, he’s heard worse. But seeing Hanji like this-

“Look... Your parents aren’t wrong... This isn’t... Usual...”

“I don’t get it though? I mean this city is practically run by the Ackermans! So really, it’s like dating the mayor’s son?”

“Zoë...” Levi chuckles, “it’s not the same?”

Hanji pauses to think. With her scholarship, surviving without the apartment wouldn’t be too difficult. But rent is steep in Sina and this means she’ll probably have to find an apartment on the outskirts. Then she’d have to travel, and everyone knows how Zoë Hanji is with punctuality-

“Does Kenny need someone in clandestine chemistry? I’m really good at-“

Levi cuts her off before she gets too invested in her ridiculous idea. “I don’t want you to be put in a spot because of me...”

“No!” Hanji points a resolute finger at Levi, “I don’t like the way this sounds we’re not breaking up!” And a quieter, thoughtful, “wait... Are we?”

Levi sighs, sitting back down on the bed. He tugs on Hanji’s arm and she’s sitting on his lap, and suddenly she’s limp and sad and there’s that very real chance that this might be it.

“What do you think of us?” Levi asks.

Her mouth moves faster than her brain, it’s a curse, Hanji’s been told. “We’re writing Yelp reviews now?” It’s quiet and Levi deadpans. He waits for her answer, he’s patient, and he knows her well enough.

She recalls the boys she has dated, the boys she’s kissed, and the grey area in between that had been Erwin, and she’s never felt like this. Hanji lets out a sigh. “Best I ever had... You?”

“Same.”

“Ha... My only satisfied customer then,” she hooks her arms behind his neck grins down at him.

“Okay...” Levi says, considering, “okay... Would you like to move in with me?”

Hanji’s eyes widen because is Levi really asking if she would like to- “huh? You- you mean it?”

“Sure... It’s a studio and there isn’t much space but you could save on rent.”

“And?” Hanji’s eyes light up, dopey smile plastered on her face.

Levi rolls his eyes, “and...” he sighs, “it would be nice... Living with you...”

“Wait... Really?” As much as Hanji teases, she’s mostly surprised they made it this far. It’s a long way from disco to cohabitation and Hanji had been pretty certain Levi would lose interest somewhere along the way. But he’s... Still here? “You don’t mind that I create a mess?”

“No. I do mind that you create a mess...” he shifts his weight and dumps Hanji on the bed. “But I would still like for you to move in with me...” Levi is hovering over her now, and Hanji thinks she really lucked out because she thinks he looks good even though he’s wearing her ridiculous shirt that’s slipping at his shoulders. It’s a weird look. But even so, it’s cute and Hanji has heart eyes.

“When you’re done staring I need an answer...”

“I’m not going to deny you the pleasure of living with me if that’s what you really want Levi...” she drawls, shrieking when Levi’s fingers dig into her sides. “Also it seems like the right time... I mean... You’ve already met my parents...”

Levi groans. It certainly hadn’t been ideal.

“You introduced me as your boyfriend.”

“Oh... About that...” Hanji says, and Levi thinks it’s amazing that Hanji actually has the capacity to be embarrassed.

“I don’t mind...” Levi says. Because he’s never really had a girlfriend, life hasn’t permitted him the convenience of labels, but now looking at Hanji, her hair splayed out on the sheets, her legs hooking lazily around his waist, how she’s beaming at him, he thinks labels could work.

→

“Where am I going to go then?” Hanji is distraught, but it can’t be helped.

The notice for renovation has been filed and The Serpent will be closed for a few months. The flooring needs to be retiled and the velvet needs replacing. But I like that it’s worn... It has character... Hanji had said. But it’s getting unsanitary and grimy and well, it can’t be helped.

The Rose stands in the swankier parts of town. It’s new and shiny and the kids love it. It’s a different crowd from The Serpent, so of course Nanaba has heard of it.

“It’s the best Hans... It’s... Contemporary...” she says as delicately as she can possibly manage, and Hanji pulls a face. But it’s not the same.,,

Although Hanji hates the music, it shares the same dubious ownership as The Serpent and Levi is there this particular Wednesday night. So is her whole tutorial class apparently. But she doesn’t realise that until she has her tongue shoved down Levi’s throat in one of the back hallways leading to the emergency exit. Of course they had to chance by. Of course they travel in a pack.

It’s Armin who breaks the silence. “M-miss Hanji?” He says, part mortified and part really embarrassed. They break apart and she’s greeted by five faces staring owlishly at them.

→

Hanji thinks maybe it had been an oversight that whole incident at The Rose. She had been in an unfamiliar territory, besides she should’ve known the probability of bumping into someone she knew was high. It’s a different crowd from The Serpent after all.

She thinks about this now because Erwin Smith is very well-positioned within the students gossip circle. And it’s weird?

“You’re dating an Ackerman... So I’ve heard?”

“As far as I’ve heard... No?” Hanji tries. She types nonsense on her keyboard.

“Don’t deny what my sources confirm Hanji...” Erwin is grinning with all the confidence in the world, “so... Which one?”

“Kenny The Ripper, of course.” Hanji puffs her chest and grins back. Foolish. She should’ve known Erwin isn’t stupid.

“Based on what the students have described... I hypothesise... Levi Ackerman?”

Erwin catches the flicker in Hanji’s eyes. Ah. Got it.

“Gossiping with the students? Mr Smith... I’m very disappointed in you...” Hanji tsk-tsks, and mutters a quieter “hypothesise? Who says that in real life?” under her breath.

Erwin shrugs. “Entertainment is hard to come by these days...”

→

“So... Erwin knows...”

“The kids told him?” Levi is shirtless, and drying himself with a towel and Hanji nearly loses the point of the story.

“Can you believe it? They’re little rats! All of them!”

Levi grunts. “Well, Kenny knows too...”

“Fuck!” Hanji exclaims. “He saw?”

"No... He guessed. Something about me looking less constipated.”

“Ha! Charming...” Hanji laughs.

“Wait... Have we been trying to be discrete?” Hanji ponders, sitting herself on the counter top.

“Apparently the whole of Sina doesn’t seem to think so...” Levi is tidying her stuff off the dining table, pulling a pile of notes here, a few books there.

“Does it matter?” She asks.

Levi shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. This seems to be a permanent arrangement, so people can start getting used to it.”

“By the way your soup is burning,” Levi interrupts Hanji mid-swoon and she’s yelling the most creative string of swears he’s ever heard. Between peals of laughter Levi thinks this is definitely the best arrangement he’s ever been in.

"Ah fuck... I put effort into that soup...” she’s still staring at said soup, but Levi is already taking out the stew he made the previous night from the freezer and putting it in the microwave for her.

“Oh well..." She sighs, pouring the soup down the sink, "perhaps man wasn’t meant for paradise..." Hanji says, and waits with bated breath, grin on her face.

Levi furrows his brows, “Captain Kirk?” And he doesn't know whether to be impressed or slightly disappointed at himself that he knows.

Hanji punches a triumphant fist in the air and whoops.

→

It’s midnight in Sina, the city that never sleeps. Zoë Hanji is the disco queen of the late 2010s, and she graces her neon empire. She’s also now Dr. Zoë Hanji, and they’re here to celebrate that. She walks up to the bar with a purpose.

“Hey handsome, wanna go some place else?” Hanji purrs in the man’s ear.

“Can’t...” the man turns to face her, “I’m married.”

“I’m sure your wife wouldn’t mind... Levi Ackerman...” Hanji‘s fingers dance across his forearm, she laughs when she feels goosebumps rising in her wake. “What’s she like anyway this wife of yours?”

“Untidy as fuck, not very clean, and she never stops talking.”

Hanji throws her head back and guffaws, completely unhinged, and Levi snorts. “She sounds absolutely delightful!” Hanji says, her face mere inches from his, this game making her a little impatient.

“Yeah...” Levi says, and thankfully he’s pulling her close, his arm hooked firm around her lower back, “she’s stunning.” With that Levi  closes whatever minuscule distance between them and he’s kissing her deep. All soft lips and pressing and unpressing, and Hanji is breathless when they pull apart. She’s speechless for a moment and Levi thinks this is the best way to shut her up, the only way he can bear too. “And as of today, she’s also a Doctor,” Levi adds, there’s awe and admiration in the softness of his smile and in his eyes when he looks at her, and Hanji feels like when black and white transitioned into technicolor.

And between a month (or two) of Levi being patient when Hanji ignores him to finish up her thesis, and them eloping to get married in a little chapel (Kenny had insisted on solemnising the wedding dressed as Elvis), she stops anticipating for things to fuck up.

“Now go... Your friends are staring...” he says, gaze flickering over to the Erwin, Mike and Nanaba who had indeed been gaping. They’re looking away now, averting their gazes here and there, sheepish. “Also... Did you get the milk?”

Hanji shouts a swear, and she makes the most guilty face she can muster. Levi rolls his eyes and lets out a long-suffering sigh, “I'll get it tomorrow morning...”

And Hanji grabs his face between her hands and kisses him silly.

“If you wanna dance you know where to find me!” She’s says and Levi tells her to congratulate Erwin on his behalf. Levi sets his glass down and leaves to the docks, something needed taking care of, but he should be able to make it back in time to get Hanji.

It's Prince night and Hanji doesn't ask put in queue requests with the DJ for Prince night because they're all hits! Hanji knows all the lyrics by heart and sings along to all the songs.

The club is emptying out by 3a.m. and Levi makes it back in time for the last song. The Most Beautiful Girl In The World is playing when he finds Hanji in the thinning crowd and dances with her.

"Apt..." He murmurs against her mouth when she reaches down for a kiss.

"Huh?" She says, a little dazed, the arms around her waist pull her in closer.

"The song... It's apt..." Levi says and she beams.

[quickspinner]

April Kisses - Finale Part 3

At last, the completion of my April Kisses project! I definitely recommend re-reading the previous parts since it’s been so long (sorry about that). This one’s a lil’ spicy due to the nature of the prompts, but nothing explicit. 

Everybody say Happy Birthday @semi-slaughtomatic , I wanted in on the parade of birthday fics for one of my favorite tumblr people so I kicked this one up the queue just for you! I hope you enjoy! 

This Finale 3-parter continues Day 17

Part 1

Part 2

More April Kisses

This part covers the remaining prompts:

18. Teasing kisses where one person blows air into the other’s mouth and runs away. 9. A kiss that lasts so long, they are sharing each other’s breaths. 45. Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed. 27. Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap. 50. A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck. 34. Kisses that start on their fingers and run up their arm, eventually ending on their lips. 24. Deep kisses where they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair to pull them closer. 31. Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips. 22. A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party.

“Prepare yourself,” Luka said as they approached the stairs of his apartment building.

“For what?”

“For not much,” he grinned, looking down at her. “It’s pretty small.” 

Marinette huffed. “Sure, Luka. Because everybody’s first apartment in Paris is huge with a view of the Eiffel Tower.” 

“Well, it was a tiny studio apartment or a roommate, and I—” He paused, and cleared his throat. “Had my reasons for wanting it this way.” 

“Mm-hmm,” Marinette said teasingly, and Luka knew he was blushing.  

She went up on her toes and Luka bent automatically to receive her kiss, but instead he got a gust of strawberry scented air in his face, making him blink, and Marinette was running away giggling. Luka rolled his eyes and chased her up the apartment stairs, grinning the whole way.

She’d always been strong and fast and she clearly hadn’t lost any of that, but Luka had been doing his fair share of running over rooftops while she was gone and his legs were longer. He caught her right at the top of the stairs and grabbed her, and they both stumbled giggling onto the landing, breathing hard and tangled up. Luka wasn’t sure exactly how they ended up against his door, but he was kissing Marinette even as he fumbled for his keys in a pocket that suddenly seemed vast. His fingers finally caught the ring and he pulled it out, breaking the kiss to find the right key and fit it in the lock. The rest he could manage without looking so he kissed her again, and they both stumbled into his apartment as the door gave way. Luka barely managed to jerk his keys back out of the lock before kicking it shut. Marinette reached around him to throw the bolt.

Finally, finally away from any distractions, restraint became impossible, and Luka grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her with everything he had. Marinette stumbled backward as he pressed closer, and his hands moved to her hips to steady her as her arms came up around his neck. They bumped into a stack of boxes he hadn’t quite unpacked, and shifted away, barely willing to pause for breath, let alone sight. Luka navigated them towards the couch with quick peeks and shuffling steps, suddenly glad that his apartment was so small. He winced as the sharp corner of some probably extremely unnecessary piece of furniture jabbed into him and Marinette yelped into his mouth as her heel hit something and she nearly fell backwards, but Luka steadied her. Marinette tightened her arms around his neck and hopped up to wrap her legs around him. Thanks to a year of consistent, if uneventful, superheroing, he managed to keep his balance and carry her the last few steps, until his foot caught the edge of that stupid rug that Juleka had insisted he needed and they landed on the couch in a heap.

“Sorry,” Luka grunted, laughter bubbling up as he pushed himself up and back quickly so that he didn’t crush her. Marinette followed him, giggling as well.

“Don’t be,” she said, climbing over him to straddle his lap, and Luka very much wasn’t, staring up into her beautiful, joyful face as she slowly bent and kissed him long and deeply. “It’s so nice to finally be able to touch you,” she breathed, fingertips running lightly down his face.

“Then touch me,” Luka nearly begged, lifting his chin so her fingers could continue their slow torturous path down his throat. 

“Where?” Marinette asked, and Luka burned. 

“Anywhere,” he growled. “Everywhere.” 

That was maybe a little bit too honest, but before he could take it back, or at least tone it down, Marinette kissed him hard, pressing him back into the couch, and he suddenly didn’t care anymore. She made a needy noise as her hands pressed into his chest and slid down, and he moaned in response, muscles tightening and jumping beneath her touch. Her fingers curled in his shirt and tugged, bunching the fabric up so the hem rode up his body, and belatedly he realized that she wanted it off. He broke away just long enough to reach back tug the collar over his head and then she really was touching him, her hands roaming over his bare chest and arms and back even as he was still trying to get the shirt off his arms. At last it was on the floor and Luka fell back against the couch only to arch into the firm kisses Marinette began placing along his chest. When he couldn’t take it anymore he pulled her up and kissed her fiercely. 

“You have a lot of nerve teasing me about those pictures,” Marinette panted, canting her head to the side as Luka mouthed along her jaw. Her hands flexed against his chest, nails scraping his skin lightly. “After the ones you sent me. Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to get my hands on these muscles?” 

Luka chuckled against her skin and pressed his palms to her back, supporting her as she let her head fall back. “It was hot that day,” he muttered, kissing the hollow of her throat and trailing his lips along her collarbone. “And please tell Juleka you thought those pictures were sexy. She took them, she’ll die.” He laughed wickedly and Marinette moaned, her fingers finding his hair and tugging. Luka let her lift his head and then her mouth was on his again, hard and demanding, her other hand also slipping into his hair to draw him even closer.

Marinette pulled back and Luka blinked hazily, unsure why she had stopped until she lifted his hand and smirked at him as she nuzzled into his palm. “You know I love your hands,” she whispered, as, eyes on his, she laid a soft kiss at the base of his index finger, and then pressed one to the center of his palm. Luka whimpered, fidgeting in his seat, and she moved to the inside of his wrist, sucking at the delicate skin there. 

“But God,” she continued in a breathy voice that he’d only heard her use once or twice, during very late night calls, “After those pictures. Seeing you hang off the rigging like that. I wanted to do this so bad.” Luka bit his lip hard as he watched her work her way up his arm, her lips and tongue following the curve of muscle along his forearm and bicep, the rest of her pressing closer as she moved higher. Luka shifted underneath her, distantly glad that he was wearing his work pants and not his tighter jeans. His eyes fell closed as her lips found his shoulder and moved up his neck until she found his lips in a kiss that was torturously slow and soft. He slid his fingers up to play with her short hair, caressing her jaw lightly with his thumbs as he let her explore his mouth as thoroughly as she liked. 

The motion of his thumbs along that curve reminded him of something he’d been thinking earlier. Luka slipped gently from her lips and pressed his own along her jaw, softly, and then harder. He left a trail of open kisses down that deliciously bare neck he’d been eyeing all evening, and when he reached that place where her neck met her shoulder, where her pulse fluttered against his lips through the warm, soft skin, he kissed it tenderly and then clamped down, sucking hard. Marinette gasped and bucked and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her still while he nipped and sucked until she made a sound that was more like pain than pleasure. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, his voice so deep and gravelly he hardly recognized it himself. 

“Liar,” she sighed, hands sliding down his chest, and he shivered, kissing the spot lightly and running his tongue over it. 

“Maybe,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean to hurt you though.” 

She made a sound in her throat that made him grin against her skin. “I forgive you.”

“Yeah?” he murmured, one hand moving up her back. 

“If you keep using that voice, absolutely,” she said, kissing him, and they melted into another series of long, slow kisses, the heat between them not gone but banked for the moment as they just enjoyed the feel of their lips sliding together. 

Luka chuckled against her mouth. “Do you remember,” he murmured, “That time you called me really late from Cairo?” 

Marinette groaned. “Luka, I was drunk.” 

“You were not drunk,” he chuckled. “Tipsy, definitely, but you knew exactly what you were saying. You tortured me and you loved every minute of it.” 

Marinette groaned again and buried her face in his neck. “I said I was sorry. Luka, this is embarrassing!”

“I just thought of it because that night you said my voice alone made you—” 

“Luka,” she growled, and it made him shiver. “Shut up.” 

“Make me,” he told her in that deep voice, and she growled again before she kissed him roughly, teeth scraping his lower lip. She soothed it almost immediately with a gentle, almost apologetic stroke of her tongue, and kissed him more softly. 

“I loved it,” Luka murmured in the brief space between kisses. “I loved that you were thinking of me that way. I love you.” His breath caught, and he kissed her again to cover it, squeezing his eyes shut as her hands came up to stroke his face, soft and understanding. 

“I love you too,” she breathed, kissing him again as he wrapped his arms tight around her.

“I’m glad you went,” he mumbled as she pressed light kisses against his lips and chin, “But I’m even more glad you’re back.” 

“I’m back,” she said softly, nuzzling his jaw. “And I’m staying.” 

She pushed back gently. Luka released her, hands sliding to her waist, and for a moment they just looked at each other. Marinette leaned in and Luka waited, eyes half-lidded, darting between the red of her lips and the blue of her eyes and the sparkle on her ears and the darkness of her short hair. 

“I’m really digging the haircut,” he said just before Marinette’s lips pressed his. 

“Yeah?” she asked, low and sultry, and Luka’s pulse began to pick up again. 

“Yeah,” he growled, “Definitely.” He slid his fingers up, playing with the short hairs at the nape of her neck and smiling when her breath hitched. She was still wearing the flower crown. Luka tugged the ribbons loose gently and slid out the bobby pins. Marinette lifted it off and leaned over to put it carefully on the farthest arm of the couch. When it was out of harm’s way, Luka buried his hands in her hair and pulled Marinette down to his mouth. He teased her lips gently with his own, slow and deliberate, keeping the brush of his tongue against hers light and delicate, smiling into the kiss when she whined and flattened her hands against his chest, kneading thoughtlessly. Luka moaned into her mouth but refused to go any faster just yet, savoring every touch and taste. He kissed her and kissed her even as he trembled, hardly willing to part with her mouth long enough to take breath, drawing her soft exhales into his own lungs instead. 

He could only hold back so long, though, and his slow kisses got deeper, more urgent, his hands in her hair pulling her even closer, until Marinette made a muffled, needy noise and put her arms around his neck, rolling her hips down onto him. Startled, Luka broke from her lips, head falling back, and he wasn’t sure if the noise that escaped him meant don’t do that or don’t stop. Marinette made a similar noise, high-pitched and gasping, and blinked in surprise, her perfect lips red and shiny and slightly parted as she stared down at him. Luka panted beneath her, hands moving back to her hips, and it was all he could do to sit still and not pull her down against him again. Marinette looked him through her lashes, two perfect spots of red on her cheeks as she examined him with all the intensity of Ladybug in problem solving mode. Luka swallowed thickly. She leaned forward slightly, only a breath away from kissing him again, and rolled her hips again. 

“Oh,” she breathed, her eyes going half-lidded, and Luka moaned from both the sensation and the sound as she began rocking against him.

It felt so good and her mouth was back on his, assaulting all his senses with her kiss and her touch and her gasping little moans. Luka was losing his mind, his own hips rising to meet her, desperate for more. He clutched blindly at her shirt, dragging it loose from her shorts and slipping his hands under it. He ran his hands up the soft skin of her sides, dragging her shirt up with them, and just as he opened his mouth to beg her to let him take it off, an excruciatingly loud, inappropriately cheerful, and painfully high-pitched voice squealed, “Marinette!” 

They both startled and jerked apart, looking for intruders before it dawned on their addled brains where that voice had come from. They exchanged a look, breathing heavily, both disheveled and heavy-lidded and kiss-bruised, and Luka licked his lips as his eyes fixed on the dark red mark at the base of Marinette’s neck. 

A second call from that high-pitched voice, however, and Marinette seemed to forget all about him. “Tikki!” she exclaimed, twisting around to hold out her hands, and the giggling tiny god flew into them, allowing herself to be nuzzled and cuddled against Marinette’s cheek. “I missed you so much!”

“Not too much,” Tikki teased, tweaking Marinette’s nose. “Since you forgot I was here.”

Marinette blushed as red as Tikki, and the little god giggled. “It’s okay, Marinette,” she teased, standing in Marinette’s palm and striking a pose with one flipper behind her head and the other on her hip. “I know I’m not as good-looking as Luuuuuuuka. But I’m still your friend,” she pouted, dropping out of her pose as Marinette looked ready to die of embarrassment. “And I still missed you! I got tired of waiting for you to remember me!”

“I missed you too, Tikki,” Marinette sighed with an apologetic smile. “Sorry that we got…” she glanced at Luka, who was flopped back against the back of the couch, still breathing hard (and also, he had to admit, pouting) and then away. “Carried away. Quite so much. Um.” 

Luka gave Tikki a dirty look, but the kwami just gave him a look right back. “You two had an agreement,” Tikki said in her most reasonable voice, which Luka had always hated because it sounded like authority. Luka rolled his eyes and let his head fall back. “And you had good reasons for it.” 

“Our agreement, our decision,” he muttered, and groaned when Marinette climbed off him. “Tikki,” he whined, grabbing a throw pillow and dropping it in his lap.

“Luuuukaaaa,” she pretended to whine back, not even bothering to dodge the pillow when he threw it at her, just phasing through it instead. 

Luka let out one more frustrated groan and then sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand. He peeked at Marinette, and immediately felt guilty at the worried, conflicted look on her face. He mustered up a smile. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, a little roughly but as gently as he could manage at the moment. “If you want to stop, we’ll stop.” 

Her eyes dropped to his lap and he blushed, shifting his legs. “It’s fine,” Luka assured her, scooping the pillow back up from the floor and hiding behind it. “I just need a little time to cool off.” His eyes went to the mark on her neck again and he swallowed hard. “And maybe a cold shower.” 

He got up off of the couch. 

“Where are you going?” Marinette asked worriedly. 

“Bathroom,” Luka sighed, picking up his shirt off the floor. “I’ll be back in a minute and we can watch a movie or something.” 

Marinette caught his hand, that expression still on her face, and Luka leaned down and kissed her lightly. “It’s okay, really. I just need a few minutes. Trust me, I won’t be long,” he muttered, tossing the shirt over his shoulder. “You two can catch up,” he said, shooting Tikki an irritated look. He was a patient guy and he’d never push Marinette into anything she didn’t want to do, but that hardly applied here. He pitched his shirt into his hamper a little harder than necessary and rummaged in his drawers quickly for a pair of loose gym shorts, and shut himself in the bathroom, trying to ignore the embarrassed giggle Marinette shared with Tikki.

He was still annoyed with the tiny god when he exited the bathroom. Yeah, they had a plan, but plans change and really, after a certain point did it really matter which one of them was touching him when he—Luka frowned. The lights were off and Marinette wasn’t on the couch.

“I can’t believe you put all of these up.”

Luka turned, and found Marinette sitting on the edge of his bed, looking up at his collection of pictures. She had clearly raided his closet, since she was now wearing one of his shirts. A flash of pink caught his eye, and he saw her clothes folded neatly on the floor beside the foot of the bed. Marinette followed his gaze and blushed, hunching in on herself slightly.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, moving the collar back up where it had slipped over one shoulder—which only made it hang lower in the front. “I thought, if we were going to watch a movie, I might as well get comfortable.” 

“I always want you to be comfortable here,” he said, coming to sit next to her and putting his arm around her waist. “Why wouldn’t I put them up? You look so happy in them.” He pointed to one where she was standing by a waterfall, sweaty and disheveled with a huge grin and a fist in the air. “That’s my favorite.” 

“That one, really?” Marinette giggled, leaning into him. His hand slipped easily under the voluminous shirt and flatted against the bare skin of her back. He tried not to be disappointed that she had on what felt like another pair of his gym shorts underneath, riding very low on her hips. “I look terrible.” 

Luka nudged her with his shoulder. “You look proud of yourself. Like for one minute you finally let yourself recognize that you did something hard and you deserve credit for it. I like all your looks, but that’s not one I get to see very often. You always find a reason to downplay it. But there?” He looked up at the picture again. “You’re owning it. And I love it.”

Marinette sighed softly, and for a moment they were silent. 

“You know,” Luka said at last, “We should probably do what we actually came here to do.”

Marinette giggled, and shifted to face him. “Yeah. I guess we should.” 

They both reached for their own ears. Luka sighed a little as the miraculous slipped free, putting one in Marinette’s hand and accepting his own in return, then repeating the operation with the other ear. The once-familiar studs felt strange now in his ears; dull and cold. 

Marinette, however, was smiling, touching the miraculous reverently. Luka smiled. They were back where they belonged, after all. He’d get used to being normal again. He was just a stand in, after all, but Marinette—Marinette was Ladybug. Those earrings were back where they belonged. Tikki did a happy little dance in the air, and then zoomed in, snuggled Luka and then Marinette, before zipping off to Luka’s kitchenette in search of cookies.

Luka chuckled, and Marinette beamed up at him, and put her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Luka swallowed hard and folded his arms around her, drawing her close. He was just so glad to have her back. 

Marinette let out a couple of shaky breaths, and then pulled back, a contented smile on her face that made him feel warm in an entirely different way from the fire he’d been burning in all night. “So...shall we watch that movie?” she said, sliding back on the bed and taking his hands to draw him with her. Luka gladly followed, watching as his too-large clothing bunched and shifted while she moved and shimmied over to make room for him. It shifted under his hands, too, when he held her, and Marinette made no protest when his rough hands slid under the shirt and over the smooth skin of her back. She only snuggled into him and sighed contentedly. 

Luka nudged her temple with his nose and she leaned up and kissed him. They shared another smile and Luka reached over for the remote on his nightstand.

Once they’d settled on a movie and started playing it, though, Luka suddenly found Marinette very distracting, as she traced her fingers absently over his abs and not-so-absently nuzzled his neck. She pressed her lips into his shoulder, then his neck, and then his jaw, and Luka sighed.

“Marinette,” he tried to say, but it came out more like a whine. 

“Taking things slow doesn’t mean we don’t do anything.” She grinned against his skin, nipping lightly.

Luka groaned. “You’re going to kill me.” 

“Maybe,” she giggled, scooting a little closer and nibbling at his ear. “But slowly.”

[lift-for-dead]

So you want to lift from Michaels... (repost)

As a (finally) former Replenishment Associate/Sales Associate/Head Cashier of the highest shrink Michael’s Arts & Crafts in our district, here is everything you need to know and probably more:

Our store didn’t even have towers.

If our Instax Mini’s (which are locked up) or film (which are behind little red locks that you can use a magnet on) were source tagged, nothing would beep.

Choose your time of day wisely.

Of course, weekend nights are a lot busier and our store in particular, for whatever reason, was always understaffed. There would be 1 Framer, 1-2 SA, 1 Cashier, 1 MOD. Mid-day always has the most associates.

I recommend the morning: it’s slow, we’re trying to get our own projects done, we’re probably still sleepy.

I do not recommend before closing, as all of the employees are running around the store trying to get shit done so we can go home.

Our Copic markers are at the front in the queue line and our Prismacolor stuff is in our Fine Arts section, both of which are heavily monitored. This brings me to:

Our cameras (that actually record and can be rewound in store) don’t pan around and zoom.

Sections recorded: entrance, front registers, jewelry, fine art, receiving (”the back”/employees only), stickers, cash office.

No one is actively watching the camera monitors. If we’re bored and lazy, we will sit and watch, and it’s somehow hypnotizing.

I recommend concealing while walking along the outermost walls of the store, basket aisle, clearance aisle, seasonal, and if you’re ballsy- the classroom.

Don’t go to the bathroom, at least ours is next to the frame shop, aka someone gon’ see you walk in with merch.

We find empty boxes all the time. We don’t ever look more into it.

The empty box goes in receiving to get damaged out and thrown away. Ditch em in the clearance aisles if they’re too bulky.

No designated LP person. I used to joke with customers that I was LP and I don’t feel like tackling you today, but really. In all of the time I was there, we had ONE LP guy come in to creep on us and customers.

I’ve sat in the office and watched a woman rip pegs off the wall, dump a wall of strung beads into her bag, and leave the store in less than 2 minutes. We were more impressed than anything tbh.

We cannot confront you, even if we watched you put it in your bag.

We can only customer service you to death and be mildly passive aggressive.

We won’t chase you down, but the MOD will fill out a report if you were seen on camera.

***If you are caught on camera, a screen cap of you and description of the incident will be emailed to every store in the district.

Park farther away y’all.

Our parking lot was shared with four other stores (the “mall” was an outdoor shopping center)

When I first started working there, my manager told me to park within 8 spots from the front because that was the limit of the cameras.

Returns/Exchanges

So you lifted something from a different store and Michaels carries the exact same one…

If you return something without a receipt, we will give you the lowest price the item has been in the past 90 days, in store credit.

We also need a valid driver’s license so the (national) system will track how often you do non-receipted returns.

If you go up to the register with random, high value items in a non-receipted return transaction (like one expensive brush, one expensive tube of paint, and a pair of jewelry pliers all at once), we have to call an MOD.

If your total refund for a non-receipted return purchase is over $100, the system will prompt for a manager override.

Cash and debit receipted return transactions will be refunded as cash. I had a coworker who would keep these receipts from people who wanted them thrown out, do the return himself, and pocket the cash. [reposter’s note: how? I don’t understand what op is saying here]

If, for whatever reason, you have a fake traveler’s check, try cashing it in here.

Because we do them so infrequently, I had a manager take it for me, and it turned out she took an apparently fake traveler’s check and didn’t even know.

However, pls don’t use counterfeit bills here. If we get too many in X amount of time, the Operations Manager will get fired.

So you actually want to buy something?

Still apprehensive to conceal in your bag? We are supposed to look to make sure you’ve got all of the items out of the buggy, we are supposed to look inside baskets and boxes, and underneath the liner of baskets. Conceal little items underneath your bag, that is sitting in the child seat of the cart.

50% one regular priced item (with exclusions): 400100719008 is the barcode number. You can ask the cashier to type this in, in “item entry.” It will always work, regardless of what coupon is out that week,

Our employee discount is 30% off your purchase, including sale items (with exclusions): 400100451588.

Is the line too long and the framing counter is open? Be really nice and you can check out there.

Pls be nice to the cashier and don’t ask to make eight separate transactions for eight of the same coupon with the same method of payment. While lifting doesn’t directly affect my paycheck, this coupon policy abuse shit does. if the store doesn’t meet projected goals, we get less hours, which means I have less money to put in my gas tank.

Am I missing something? Ask!

Cheers to my first post after creeping the community for a week, but lifting for like 8 years. Be safe shrimps.

disreputable-cat

amazing

also why does nobody else share employee discount coupon codes, cmon ladies, get your shit together

[dramarising-replacement]

Re: https://dramarising-replacement.tumblr.com/post/617916922335543296/so-ive-had-a-subspecies-since-september-i-noticed

TL;DR: Things are fishier than they seem, and M might actually be more of a thief than SB. At the very least, M 100% falsely accused SB of theft; at the worst, M stole SB’s idea and went on an editing spree to cover their tracks.

I don't have a tumblr so usually commenting on posts here is more trouble than it's worth, but I just have to on this one for some reason. Maybe it's because I think the entire concept of “subspecies” is stupid, maybe it's because thanks to a namedrop I could easily dig everything up... but from what I found the drama OP (M) definitely seems shady. Brace yourselves, my salty friends, for an unnecessarily long deep-dive into stupid drama (because what else are you going to spend quarantine doing?).

First, let's take a look at the timeline.

According to the original post date, the drama OP (M) created their subspecies in Dragon Share on September 13 2019. The thread has moderate activity levels up (~2 week post gaps max) until December 13 2019, when it apparently dies (barring any ghost bumping of course). The next post on the thread is made May 11 2020, when M suddenly becomes active again. M also created a new subspecies thread in Dragon Share on May 9 2020 at 13:05 FR (exact times will become relevant later on); it seems the posts were filled in with edits made within the next couple days, as is standard. Also of note is the fact that many of M’s posts in their original thread have edits made May 9 2020 from 10:39-13:27 FR (this will be key); additionally, a majority of these edits are made on posts that contain the guidelines for the subspecies- not sales, affiliates, pinglists, etc. that would require any sort of update.

The “accused” in this case (SB) created their hatchery thread in Dragons For Sale on December 24 2019. Aside from sales/affiliate posts, no edits to the main hatchery posts were made since December 29 2019 (likely filling in from a structure laid out 5 days prior), except for on March 19 2020, when it looks like they might have converted how they list dragons for sale to be linked to a tab instead of posted/adjusted g:t ratio. In any case, I believe these particular edits do not really play a big role on the overall timeline and drama, same as M's edits on their new thread. For a user that describes themselves as “barely active”, they do a decent job at bumping posts, with ~1 week between bumps except for 2 spans of ~1 month: from Feb-Mar, and after a short bout of bumping, from Mar-Apr.

The drama begins when M makes their post on SB’s hatchery thread May 09 2020 at 10:10 FR, which is edited less than a minute later (maybe a typo correction?). So here’s the timeline all pieced together:

September 13, 2019 – M creates the subspecies

December 13, 2019 – M seemingly goes inactive on their thread

December 24, 2019 – SB creates their hatchery thread

peace, until…

May 09, 2020 @10:10 – M accuses SB of “stealing” their idea on SB’s hatchery thread

May 09, 2020 @10:39 – M edits their subspecies requirement post

May 09, 2020 @13:05 – M creates a new subspecies thread

May 09, 2020 @13:14 – M edits their old subspecies main post

May 09, 2020 @13:21 – M edits a post about ‘Queen’ variant(?) requirements on their old thread (Important)

May 09, 2020 @13:27 – M edits a post showing examples of ‘Queen’ variants on their old thread (Important)

~BONUS~ May 12, 2020 – people start defending M on SB’s hatchery thread. The posts weren’t exactly the nicest, so who knows if they’ll still be around by the time this gets out of the queue

Ok, I know what you’re all thinking- what does all this mean? How is this shady?? For that, we will have to dive a bit more into the content of the posts to put some context to that timeline; but first, let’s take a look at the threads and see if the theft accusation is accurate.

M’s old subspecies thread:

Messy layout/design. Links are left as ugly long URLs, but most importantly… there is no consistency on what the subspecies design is! In the main post, no colors are listed, but the genes are specified to be Slime/Lionfish, Sludge/Bee, and Capsule. In their next post on the subspecies requirements, genes are listed as Slime, Sludge/Bee, Capsule- no Lionfish to be found! Color specifications are kept vague, with only a Honey tert required, though they do also lay out 4 specific named variations using Amber/Amber, Amber/Gold, Lemon/Gold, and Lemon/Lemon. The post with the ‘Queen’ requirements lists genes of Slime/Hex/Capsule, with no colors specified except for the same 4 variants made earlier.

M’s new subspecies thread:

Still a work in progress, but looks to be pretty much identical to the previous thread; the only main change is that banner is replaced with an original (credited!!) logo (good job on that, M). The main post specifies genes of Slime, Sludge/Bee, and Capsule. The color rule examples post contain the subspecies and the ‘Queen’ variant (Slime/Hex/Capsule), and include some additional variants as well- ‘Crystallized’ (Bee sec), ‘Wasp’ (Lionfish prim), Pollenators[sic] (Glimmer tert), and ‘Hornets’ (Pinstripe/Sludge/Glimmer).

So if you’ve been paying attention, M’s ~super special unique subspecies~ has color requirements of “anything honey-like” (while also having 4 specific color combinations) and a combination of random genes in addition to the “official” genes thanks to the addition of “variants” that have nothing to do with the original Slime/Sludge/Capsule premise. The only consistency seems to be Honey tert.

SB’s hatchery thread:

Aside from some hard-to-read colors used, has nice formatting. Lists 6 pairs, which are strictly either Amber/Amber or Grapefruit/Grapefruit, with a small range of matching terts for each pair (not necessarily encompassing Honey). 5 pairs give primarily Slime/Hex (+small gem gene chance), and 1 is Slime/Sludge. As far as terts go, 2 have terts weighted towards Capsule, 1 is Capsule/Runes, 1 is Opal/Glimmer, and 1 is Glimmer. So primarily Slime/Hex/assorted, in an xxy Amber/Grapefruit+assorted.

So to put that all together:

M’s claim of subspecies “theft” would really ONLY pertain to their ‘Queen’ variant, not their main subspecies (only 1 of SB’s pairs has a 50% chance at making M’s subspecies). In addition, the range built into SB’s pairs violate the only seemingly consistent rule of M’s subspecies: a Honey tert. The only argument for “theft” would pertain to the gene combo of Slime/Hex, which appears in 5 of SB’s pairs and M's ‘Queen’ variant (though again, SB’s pairs do not have the right tert color/gene most of the time!).

Now, do you remember that timeline? After accusing SB of “stealing” their idea (presumably for the ‘Queen’ variant), what did M immediately do? They went back to their thread and specifically edited the posts pertaining to the requirements for the subspecies and the ‘Queen’ variant! It’s theoretically even possible that the ‘Queen’ variant didn’t even formally exist when SB made their hatchery- all the dragons mentioned/posted in M’s thread are the standard Slime/Sludge/Capsule subspecies, and 3 of the registered dragons of the ‘Queen’ variant were bred in January (well after SB started their hatchery), with 1 other dragon acquired from untraceable sellers at some point (likely around the same time as it is the parent of the other 3). You might even say that perhaps M “stole” the idea for the ‘Queen’ from SB… M also posted the proof themselves in the OP that they use shady edits to change the narrative in their favor- SB specifically mentions this in the screenshots after calling out M for removing their link, who then backs it up by claiming they were “project” dragons; yet M placed them in the “Completed breeders” tab, which was hastily edited to now include “Breeders that need gene alterations”, a shady move that SB commented on and M decided to post proof of for some reason lol.

So if this is true, and M accused SB of stealing their idea, then raced to edit their posts to create a narrative to justify their claims… why would they do it? My theory is simple: an honest mistake combined with jealousy. There are only 12 registered dragons listed on both the old and new subspecies threads, half of which are owned by M. On the other hand, SB’s hatchery lists 22 dragons sold, only 1 of which is exalted. Now I don’t know anything about hatcheries, but I think that is a decent amount for just under 5 months of sales, especially when taking into account the periods of seeming inactivity. I think that M either went on hiatus or forgot/gave up on the subspecies back in December, before SB created their hatchery. SB then created their hatchery, using similar (but definitely not the same!) ideas. Time passed, and one day when browsing the sale forum M comes across SB’s thread. Seeing SB’s hatchery have the popularity they never had, combined with poor memory of the details of their subspecies after such a long time had passed, M comments mistakenly accusing SB of theft. However, not long after they find their old thread, and realize that SB isn’t at all copying their Slime/Sludge/Capsule xxy Amber-ish/Honey, and rush to make the edits needed to tidy up their claims. In the process, they quickly realize it’d be best to just start a new thread altogether, as the current thread was a mess and had no more reserved space past the ‘Queen’ variant (which may have been reserved/lore space before M covered their tracks). Far less sinisterly, perhaps M continued their subspecies idea after abandoning the thread, and after accusing SB they realized that they never actually officially updated their subspecies.

  But who’s to say? There might not be a smoking gun one way or the other, but there’s enough circumstantial evidence to say M doesn’t look as innocent as they sound. As far as SB’s response, it was definitely out of line and way too harsh. But you’ve also gotta admit you’d be pretty peeved if you had been peacefully minding your own business for months and suddenly someone comes in out of the blue, wrongfully accuses you of being a thief, demands you give them credit for all your hard work, then proceeds to buy your dragons to make them part of their “rightful” hatchery, erasing any mention of you as just another slap in the face. From looking at the dragons they’ve sold, SB doesn’t really seem to care what happens to them- genes have been changed, links have been removed, no drama that I can see. It really seems like they are reacting more to M’s shadiness over the whole deal than anything else. That said, nobody likes being namecalled, so SB’s parting remark wasn’t right even if they were wrongly accused of theft.

[coryfirelion]

Tagged by @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold! Tagging - @natsora, @lisette-serpent, @i-am-a-kitty-cat, @incorrectly-quoted-queers and whoever else wants in!

1. What is the color of your hairbrush?

Black and brown. I have another for travels, it is black and electric blue. (It was the only color option -.-”)

2. A food you never eat?

Caviar. Not really eager to try it though. e.e”

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold?

Always cold, I’m a walking icicle, but I usually don’t notice until it starts to hurt :v

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?

Making dinner to my 9 people family.

5. What is your favorite candy bar?

I usually don’t eat sweets, BUT here in Perú, we have something we call “cereal bar” (made with kiwicha, quinua, peanuts and raisins, mixed with algarrobina syrup to keep all together) It has no brand, it’s usually hand made :3

6. Have you ever been to a professional sporting event?

My brother participates in some sports. Athletics, table tennis (ping pong) and swimming, so yeah :D (love my brother, I’m his fan n.n)

7. What was the last thing you said out loud?

"Joshua! What the heck are you watching?” - To my youngest brother once I’d hear what the woman in the video was saying. ¬¬

8. What is your favorite ice cream?

Stracciatella <3 (milk-based ice cream filled with fine, irregular shavings of chocolate)

9. What was the last thing you had to drink?

Water, before I had a coffee milk :3

10. Do you like your wallet?

It’s the best wallet I’ve ever owned and I’ve had it for like eight years :D

11. What was the last thing you ate?

A boiled egg. I’m a simple girl :v

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

I didn’t buy any kind of clothes since last year?

13. The last sporting event you watched?

Super bowl! I kinda like American futbol :’3

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?

I mix the traditional buttery popcorn with the maple syrup popcorn (I don’t know why, I don’t like sweets, but I like it)

15. Who was the last person you sent a text message to?

To my father. “That guy who just touched the car was coughing”. We were at the queue to get in the supermarket. At 4 am. It was cold.

16. Ever go camping?

Yeah! I’m a Scout! I go camping since I was 2 years old and I miss that A LOT :’(

17. Do you take vitamins?

None. Just migraine pills :v

18. Do you go to church every Sunday?

Used to. Now I watch it on the TV. I’m christian :3

19. Do you have a tan?

Only a little in my arms, then I’m pale as milk. But I do tan if you put me more than an hour under the sun :v

20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?

Here in Peru we have something called “Chifa”, it’s a mix between chinese food and peruvian food :3 Really like it :’D (but I would like to try real chinese food someday)

21. Do you drink your soda with a straw?

No? What kind of monster does this on the regular? Don’t use straws unless you have to - it’s bad for the turtles. (I’m copying this answer because YEAH! DON’T USE STRAWS)

22. What color socks do you usually wear?

I have some sober colors, but I like the ones with kittys on them =^.^=

23. Ever drive above the speed limit?

Yeap, and even so I got in a crash :v (I had a bike T-T)

24. What terrifies you?

WAY to many things. Mostly things I’m unable to change. I’m just anxious about the future. (Will I get a new job? My professor will aprove my thesis project? Will this bloody thing END?)

25. Look to your left what do you see?

My copy of “The Tales of the Last War”. <3 <3 <3

26. What chore do you hate?

Waxing the floor. The smell makes my head hurt like hell x_x

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?

My uncle’s family in Australia :3

28. What is your favorite soda?

I love Inca Kola :D (Some americans said it tastes like bubblegum xD I would like to try some of the bubblegum you have that tastes like it, please *-*)

29. Do you go into a fast food place or just hit the drive through?

Delivery or to go. (But not the average fast food, because pollo a la brasa :v that’s it)

30. Who was the last person you talked to?

My brother xD

31. Favorite cut of beef?

Loin, because Lomo saltado <3 (just google it :3)

32. Last song you listened to?

Clint Eastwood - Gorillaz

33. Last book you read?

Fanfiction XD. But if it must be a book, then The Tales of the Last War <3

34. Favorite day of the week?

Saturdays! D&D night!

35. Can you say the alphabet backwards?

Nope, I don’t think so :v

36. How do you like your coffee?

With milk and a shot of vanilla <3

37. Favorite pair of shoes?

Sneakers :v I don’t use shoes, even for work.

38. At what time do you usually go to bed?

It depends. If I didn’t have migraine (or have it, but didn’t take my pills), I usually go to sleep between 2 and 4 am. If I had my pills I’m out between 10 or 11 pm.

39. At what time do you normally get up?

If had my pills, I wake up at 4 am. If I didn’t use pills but had migraine I wake up every 2 hours. If didn’t need the pills, I’m up at 7 am

40. What do you prefer - sunrises or sunsets?

Sunrises - especially in the mountains *-* <3.

41. How many blankets are on your bed?

Just one, fricking hot x_x (but then, about 3 or 4 am it gets cold).

42. Describe your kitchen plates?

I usually eat in a bowl :v The fancy plates are for special occasions, they’re blue and have nice chinese art :D

43. Do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage?

Nope, no alcohol for me. My liver doesn't like it (and my head doesn't either)

44. Do you play cards?

We play a lot of card games and I’m usually lucky with them :3

45. What color is your car?

Don’t have one. I had a bike. It was a Honda GL 125 (really good for the countryside and I loved it T-T)

46. Can you change a tire?

Nope, but I would like to learn :D

47. What is your favorite province?

Cajamarca! It’s in the sierra (mountains). Love their cheese, rosquitas and ice cream *-* <3

48. Favorite job you ever had?

““Tourist guide”” in the “Giant Birds Park”, I didn’t actually like to deal with the people (some of them are really tiresome) but I LOVED to take care of the animals, specially the babys *-*, I miss so much my dears ostriches and emus T-T

49. How did you get your biggest scar?

Beacuse of the works I usually get, my arms are covered with scars xD. Most of them are blur beacuse of time, but my biggest scar is in the back of my left leg. A little accident with my bike, I hit my leg with the bar for the feet of the passenger. I managged to stop the bike, but I couldn’t use it any more because my leg was throbing and the pain x_x it’s been about 5 years but the scar is still there, the muscle is stiff in that part of my leg :v

50. What did you do today that made someone happy?

Listen to my brothers’ troubles, they are teenagers and I’m glad that they talk to me, specially if they can feel lighter after n.n I also like to tell jokes (usually bad ones XD I’m not really good at it, but I try) so everyone in my home is smilling n.n