#i was much less fucked up by the panini than most but as someone who loves nothing more than to Stagnate and appease her anxiety...

[six-of-ravens]

anyway I think my Toxic Cycle over the past few years has been like:

2022-2023 - so much stressful change. everything changing. went back to the office. moved offices. started hybrid work. had to drive downtown. had to remember how to be a functioning social animal. help. now mom's foot is injured. running out of money trying to keep my apartment bc the cost of living skyrocketed. aaahhhh I'm gonna die of Change.

2023-mid 2024 - Okay, Not Actively Dying. But Now Everything Must Stay Exactly The Same. My Routine Must Be Unbreakable Or I Will Die. Even Thinking About Watching A New Movie Makes Me Ill. What Do You Mean There's No Enrichment in My Proverbial Enclosure Anymore?

mid 2024 - oh right I do have to do new or different things relatively often just so I don't forget that I am capable of them and that a social event or day trip or even going to a different store than usual isn't going to destroy me mentally and physically.

[regular-theodore]

I've seen a few posts about the similarities between Frank and Jeff, and on the whole I think they are pretty similar, but one thing I haven't seen explored (probably because there's a total of three people in this fandom) is that Jeff is a young Frank.

I think obviously most actors have a certain vibe, or a certain character type they play often or particularly well, and Jeff and Frank are both the sarcastic straight man of their group, but there's also some traits that definitely read to me as "he still has issues but he's getting better."

(essay below the cut)

I think one of the first things people could notice is that Frank is a silly little guy! Jeff overall (light heartedly) makes fun of the rest of the study group's shenanigans, before sometimes eventually relenting (this happens often in the end credits with Troy and Abed, when he at first rolls his eyes at them before reluctantly joining in and actually having fun). on the other hand, despite Frank's gruff exterior at first, he doesn't hesitate to have fun with his coworkers, and is seen getting very enthusiastic about it- for example, the licence plate game or the animal metaphor game.

obviously both characters' sarcasm and tendencies to use it as a coping mechanism/way of pushing people away. with Jeff it's addressed at times how he's distant, afraid of commitment, afraid of having friends, and other things. however, probably because Animal Control is much shorter, or has a more light-hearted tone, but it's never really addressed seriously by the characters other than in jokes how he's cold or distant.

adding to that, one noticeable difference is how open Frank is about craving intimacy. in the episode with the cats, Victoria makes fun of him for being old and alone, and in the episode with the gardening girl, he mentions that all he wants is to skip to a relationship, and to have someone to sit at home and be domestic with (paraphrasing because I can't be arsed). while Jeff on the other hand is very closed off, putting up a facade of not caring, going on a lot of dates, and generally doing all the parts that Frank hates; casual sex, dating, and shying away the moment it becomes something more serious. to me, this definitely screams character development- Frank gets over his issues with intimacy, probably through therapy or experience or age, and is burnt out from a twenties and thirties full of casual dating, which at heart, was never what he really wanted. this allows him to become far more open about how he truly just wants his person.

another thing on the topic of healing relationships is Jeff and Frank's daddy issues. in Community, it's far more obvious, as there's several episodes centred around Jeff's father and his relationship with him, and it's mentioned enough that it's obvious he still struggles with his dad's leaving as a kid. as opposed to Frank, who never mentions it apart from when actually sees his dad. when Jeff visits his dad, it's an entire episode thing, but when Frank sees his dad, it's at most a five minutes at the end of an episode. this shows Frank's moving on, and managing to focus less of his life around a father that doesn't care.

throughout Community, Jeff struggles with alcohol issues, which are somewhat addressed in the GI Joe episode. he drinks a fair amount and is even referred to as an alcoholic by other characters. in Animal Control, this is again far less severe, and while he is shown drinking several times, and it is joked about by Victoria, it comes across as far more teasing and less concerned. this honestly seems to be a general theme (he says as if this is based off anything at all and not just a coincidence) and it shows with Frank's relationship with food as well. obviously Jeff has some pretty fucked up self hatred and most likely an eating disorder, whereas Frank is shown eating pretty much whatever he wants, to the point where things like him eating Amit's ice cream sandwich or talking about the panini maker become pretty regular.

but also the part in the episode with the gardening girl, when he says he wants to skip to the part where they are "binging shows and gaining weight together" (so real of him) I think summarises his entire arc pretty perfectly, as since Greendale he's not only healed his relationship with food and his body, but he's accepted that what he wants in a partner is pretty much the opposite of what he thought he did before- almost "overcorrecting" to the point where characters no longer make fun of him for his commitment issues and casual dating, but now tease him for his domesticity and pathetic lonely yearning for someone to be his.

so yeah, this was a lot of rambling and projecting and making completely baseless assumptions but it was fun to write :3 I should do more character essays, especially about Jeff because he's so me. hopefully I get my Frank healing arc before I'm in my fifties <3

[batsandbugs]

The Great IKEA Game

Chapter 4: The Three Stooges 

AN: At least it hasn’t been two months again 😅. Let’s check in with the other batboys and see how they’re handling Damian and Marinette’s chaos. 

Chapter 1 Chapter 2  Chapter 3

Tim wondered when his day took a solid dive off the cliffs of normal and into the waters of weird.

It probably started when Dick dragged them out of bed at eight in the morning – on a Saturday – piled them into the car, and drove them an hour and a half out of the city to an IKEA. If they had actually been there to shop they would have either burned the store down or killed one another. 

Not that those things were off the table yet. 

Tim had work, actual work, that he could be doing. But no, instead he was playing a demented game of hide-and-go-seek, which was careening into an all-out war. The destroyed shelving units, shopping carts, and forklift were unmistakable evidence of that.

How had the demon spawn accomplished this in less than a minute?

Bruce would kill them, once he came back from off-world.

That is if Alfred didn’t get to them first.

“Uh, order 177? Shit, my pay isn't enough for this.”

The words shook Tim from his stupor. He walked over to the counter.

“Hi,” he said, flashing his most charming CEO grin. “I have a quick question?”

The server's fixed smile contrasted with his dull eyes.

“I need to know what way the boy who ordered this headed.”

“No.”

Tim sighed, “Look, it’s important. My brother-”

“I mean, no, it wasn’t a boy.”

Tim paused. “Huh?”

“It was a girl, a teen girl. Black hair, big blue eyes, French accent. She was sitting over there,” he waved at an empty table. “But I think she walked away before that happened.” Referring to the giant train wreck occurring a few aisles over.

“Oh,” said Tim. “Thanks.”

“Do you want the order?”

Tim held back an annoyed sigh.

“Sure.”

So that’s how he, Jason, and Dick, sat at the abandoned picnic table, staring at the abandoned meal bought with Damian’s credit card. Jason grabbed a couple of fries and shoved them in his mouth.

“That’s evidence, nitwit,” hissed Tim.

Jason ignored him, stabbing a meatball with the plastic fork. “What? It’s going to go to waste. Girlie obviously ain’t coming back for it.”

“We should be more worried about how a random girl used Damian’s credit card!”

“She could have stolen it?” offered Dick.

“Demon spawn would have broken her arm before getting pickpocketed,” countered Jason, eating another fry. Silence. A weird glint appeared in Jason's eye. He turned to Tim. “What did you say the girl looked like again?”

“Black hair, blue eyes, French accent.”

“Shit,” muttered Jason.

“What?”

“I think I ran into her earlier, about an hour and a half ago. Asked her if she had run into demon spawn – she sounded confused and tourist-like. But maybe…”

“Maybe she’s working with him?” offered Tim.

“Could be.”

“Damian? Working with another person? A stranger?” Dick shook his head. “Doesn’t sound like him.”

Jason shoved another fry into his mouth. “The brat’s a competitive little shit, if he thought teaming up would help him get ahead, he’d do it in a heartbeat.” He pointed a fry at Tim. “Can you look at the security footage?”

“I’m already two steps ahead of you,” Tim said, flashing his phone with the hacked in security camera footage on-screen. Jason and Dick huddled in close as a small girl walk on screen and stood at the counter.

“Yep, that’s her. Can you ID her, Timmy?”

Tim rolled his eyes, “This is a smartphone, Jay, not a laptop.”

“I thought Mr. World’s Second Greatest Detective would be prepared for anything.”

“Well excuse me for not having facial recognition software, on my phone.”

“Guys chill.”

“Shut up, Dick,” Jason and Tim said in unison.

The footage played out and they watched the girl order two meals and pay with Damian’s credit card. They switched to another camera when she left and sat at the picnic table. A few minutes later Jason and Tim walked into frame.

“Look, there! She tenses. Look at her body language, she’s panicking. She knows who you two are.” Dick looked shocked that, yes, Damian had teamed up with a partner.

They watched the girl panic, although she managed to keep her body from reacting too much. She placed her phone to her ear and walked away from her spot.

“Who is she talking to?”

“Maybe Damian was watching out of sight?”

“Shoot, Tim, she’s out of frame. Do we have another angle?”

It took another minute or so, but Tim found the right security camera catching the mysterious girl leaving the food court. As she walked away the image on the screen flickered, and a moment later the shelving units fell.

“Oh crap,” swore Jason. “Do you think she has magic? Fuck, it would be just our luck if demon spawn teamed up with someone dangerous.”

Dick shook his head. “It could be a coincidence. We didn’t see her do anything. The chaos could have been a coordinated effort between her and Damian.”

Tim wasn’t so sure. “Come on Dick, you’ve been in the game long enough to know just because something looks one way, doesn’t mean it's true.”

They watched the girl hurry out of sight, this time it was much more difficult to follow her progress through the store. She would randomly duck in and out of showrooms, coming out differently than how she came in. If the three boys hadn’t been trained in stealth and detection for years, they would have had a challenging time tracking her.

Jason whistled low. “Who is this chick? I’m impressed. She has serious skill.”

Finally, she ducked into a showroom and didn’t come out. Tim couldn’t find a camera giving them an unobstructed view, but it didn't matter. They had a destination.  

“This was ten minutes ago, they could already be long gone,” said Dick.

“Or they could still be hiding there,” countered Jason.

“We’ll find out when we get there.” They walked out of the cafeteria and past the closed aisles. The forklift that had been buried under the collapsed shelving unit was being unearthed by a flock of bewildered employees.

“Ten bucks says she has magic,” said Jason.

“Yeah, no.” Tim was good at math and the odds of everything happening just as she left was too big to be a coincidence. “I’m not stupid enough to take that bet.”

“Come on you guys, let’s focus here,” chided Dick.

Walking back through the showrooms Tim kept an eye out for any sign of his brother or his accomplice, but it was as if they had disappeared into thin air. Arriving at the last location they had spotted the girl, they waited for a touring couple to leave before descending on the tiny, boxed room like the detectives they were trained to be.

It didn’t take long to discover the lasered off vent.

“Shit,” groaned Jason. “They could be anywhere by now.”

“Tim can you-”

Tim had his phone in hand, “I’m already on it. I’ll have the vent layout in a minute.” He felt insulted they even needed to ask.

Jason peered into the vent, “Damn, I think we’re too big to follow.”

 Dick sighed. “I miss my vent crawling days; they just don’t make them as big as they used to.”

“That’s what she said,” snickered Jason.

“Focus you two,” Tim snapped. “I’ve pulled up the air duct plans.” He flashed the screen to his two brothers who settled down. “This particular vent runs a couple of places. We have one entrance at the back of the store in the storeroom. Then another veering off near the daycare center, and the last which comes out near the unloading dock.”

“I’ll take the one next to the daycare center,” said Dick. “I’m the only one who isn't demented,” pointing to Jason, “or sleep-deprived,” pointing to Tim.

“Hey!” exclaimed Jason.

Tim sneered, repressing a Damian-like growl, “I wouldn’t be so sleep deprived if you hadn’t dragged us out of the house at eight in the morning. I arrived in from patrol at three.” He hadn’t had coffee in hours, and the weight of his body pressed on him like a panini maker.

Dick ignored them. “Jason can take the one at the loading docks, and Tim you’ll be able to bypass security and get into the back the easiest.”

“Sounds good to me,” grunted Jason.

“Alright,” agreed Tim. “The second any of us spots them, text the group chat, will box them in from there.”

They nodded and headed off their separate ways. Despite the tiredness in Tim's bones, there was a heady rush of the hunt thrumming in his veins. Damian, and whoever he had decided to pair up with, were going down.

Tag List: (Closed, sorry!! I’m so glad you all like it though.)

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[calumcest]

taking the long way home

[ao3]

“May we have your attention for flight BA8227,” the tinny voice of the announcement says, and Ashton’s stomach sinks. They never announce anything he wants to hear; there’s never any we’ve upgraded hardworking and broke session drummer Ashton Irwin to first class, he’s also been given unlimited air miles and a refund on his overpriced tuna melt. “We are sorry to announce that this flight is delayed by approximately seven hours. This is due to unforeseen adverse weather conditions. I repeat-” 

-

aka their flight is delayed au

Ashton Irwin does not, repeat not, like flying.

He thinks it’s a perfectly rational thing to dislike. He’s not afraid, by any means – it’s just such an inefficient way of getting anywhere. He’ll spend an hour getting to the airport in order to be two hours early for his three hour flight, and then spend another hour on the other end getting to wherever he actually needed to go because airports are never anywhere convenient. Not to mention the patting down he inevitably gets at security, the fifteen minute wait for them to check whether or not the dark shadow in his bag is a tube of lip balm or a stick of dynamite, and the ridiculous price of the lunch he’s forced to buy in Duty Free. All of that would perhaps, perhaps, be just about tolerable, if his flights were ever on fucking time.

So far, however, Ashton’s day is running fairly smoothly. He’d not even been ‘randomly selected’ at security for a pat down, and the lady in Costa had taken pity on him when he was fumbling with his coins (seriously, why the fuck are five-pence coins so small?) and given him his tuna melt panini for ten pence less than he owed. He’d even made it to his gate an hour before departure time, picking the most strategically placed seat so he can jump up and join the queue as soon as boarding is announced. All in all, Ashton’s having the most bearable day he could possibly have in an airport.

The universe, however, seems to have other plans. Despite it being January, despite the weather forecast saying it might snow, as soon as a single snowflake hits the runway, the entire fucking airport loses its shit. Flight after flight gets cancelled, delayed until the morning, and the airport is suddenly filling up as people aren’t getting on their flights. Ashton’s flight makes it all the way until half an hour before boarding is supposed to start, keeping Ashton’s hopes high, when-

“May we have your attention for flight BA8227,” the tinny voice of the announcement says, and Ashton’s stomach sinks. They never announce anything he wants to hear; there’s never any we’ve upgraded hardworking and broke session drummer Ashton Irwin to first class, he’s also been given unlimited air miles and a refund on his overpriced tuna melt. “We are sorry to announce that this flight is delayed by approximately seven hours. This is due to unforeseen adverse weather conditions. I repeat-”

Great. Fucking great. Not like Ashton has places to be, people to see, a life to live, a home he would like to get back to before the age of ninety. It’s already eleven p.m.; if Ashton’s rudimentary maths is accurate, his flight won’t be departing until nine a.m., if at all (he adds a few hours onto the delay, because he knows better than to trust airlines).

Groaning, he drags himself out of his well-selected seat and over to the information desk, where a small crowd is starting to gather, jostling impatiently to try and hear what the one harassed-looking employee is saying to the man at the front of the queue.

“Can you fucking believe this?” the guy behind Ashton grumbles. He’s got a familiar Aussie twang, but Ashton doesn’t even turn around to bond with him – testament to how bad of a mood he’s in.

“Yes,” Ashton says darkly. “It’s a fucking airline.”

“Fair point,” the guy says. “Reckon they’ll have any hotel rooms left? We must be the ninetieth flight delayed because of adverse weather conditions.”

“I’d rather take the extra compensation money and sleep on my suitcase,” Ashton says. The guy behind him laughs.

“Need the money?” he says, sympathetically. “I’ve been there, mate. What do you do?”

“I drum,” Ashton says. “Session musician.”

“Sweet,” the guy says. “I play guitar. Session musician, too, but my band’s trying to make it.”

“Oh?” Ashton says, interest finally piqued enough to turn around and get a good look at the guy. He’s about Ashton’s age, maybe a little younger, with a long, sweeping blonde fringe that Ashton’s impressed managed to cling on through to the 2020s.

“Yeah,” the guy says. “Heading out to LA to record. You?”

“I was here to record,” Ashton says, and then they’re interrupted by a tall guy rushing up, clutching a duffel bag in his arms.

“Sorry, Mike,” the guy says, slightly breathless. “The toilet’s a fucking mile away, and possibly in another dimension.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the fringe-owner (Mike?) says, rolling his eyes. “Hey, I’ve made a friend. He’s Australian and a session musician too. I’m considering replacing you with him.”

“Ashton,” Ashton says, nodding at both Mike and New Guy. He does a (subtle) double-take when he properly looks at New Guy, because Christ, he is fucking gorgeous. He’s got blonde hair that curls beautifully in the way that Ashton’s never managed to get own hair to, baby-blue eyes that blink at him from under dark, inky lashes, and a dimple on one side of the lips he’s currently biting.

Well. Consider Ashton fucked.

“Michael,” Mike says, nodding back. “And this is Luke.”

“Hi,” Luke says. “Sorry, I swear I’m not queue-jumping.”

“Wouldn’t matter to me if you were,” Ashton says. “You’re behind me.”

“You’re not very principled,” Luke says. Ashton shrugs.

“Never claimed to be,” he says.

“Ashton wants to sleep on his suitcase,” Michael informs Luke.

“I said the same thing,” Luke says. “I need the money.”

“I want a bed,” Michael says.

“You just want somewhere without me to call Calum,” Luke says accusingly.

“Can you blame me?” Michael says. “I’ve got to spend an extra seven hours with you now. Hey, maybe Ashton’ll take you off my hands.”

“No can do,” Ashton says, although his dick very much thinks yes, please, it would be my honour. “I need my beauty sleep.” Luke frowns.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he says, slightly petulantly. Michael pats him on the shoulder.

“Of course not, babe,” he says patronisingly. “Hey, Ashton, you’re next.” Ashton turns around, surprised at how fast the queue has moved, to see he is indeed the next person in the queue.

“Good evening, sir,” the lady says, tiredly, when Ashton slaps his ticket down on the counter. Ashton feels a stab of pity for her. It’s not her fault that airlines are determined to suck the joy out of life.

“I want the compensation money,” he says, figuring it’s best to cut to the chase.

“Thank goodness,” the lady says, scanning his ticket, “because we don’t have any hotel rooms left.

“Hear that?” Ashton hears Luke say to Michael.

“Yeah, Luke, I’m stood just as far away as you,” Michael tells Luke.

“Right,” Ashton says. “Is the flight actually going to leave tomorrow?”

“Not a clue,” the lady says, tapping away on her keyboard. “The money will be in your account in three business days, Mr Irwin.”

“Thanks,” Ashton says, picking up his suitcase and ticket and moving to the side to put his ticket and passport away.

(And yeah, maybe he fiddles a little more than strictly necessary with his suitcase, zipping and unzipping it a few times for no reason, until Luke and Michael finish with the customer service lady. It doesn’t mean anything.)

“…might not even be into guys, Mike, oh my God, fucking stop, stop,” he hears Luke hiss, sounding like he’s pleading, and he looks up from his suitcase to see Michael heading towards him with Luke trailing behind.

“Well?” Michael prompts, when they get to Ashton. Ashton looks at him questioningly, wondering whether he was supposed to overhear and comment on whatever Luke was talking about. “You’re going to spend the night with us, right? Us Aussies have to stick together. I can’t leave you on your own with British people in good conscience. Plus, I want to call my boyfriend, and I need someone to look after Luke.”

“I’m fucking twenty-three,” Luke says. “I can look after myself.”

“You left your passport in the hotel,” Michael says.

“Yeah, and then I remembered that I forgot it,” Luke says.

“Once you got to the airport.”

“So? Our flight’s got a seven hour delay,” Luke says. Michael rolls his eyes.

“I’m going to call Calum,” he says. “You two find somewhere nice and cosy for us to sleep tonight. Pick the best chairs.” Without waiting for a response, he strides off, phone already in his hand.

Great. Now Ashton’s stuck with possibly the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen, and he’s in a terrible mood so he can’t even flirt.

“Sorry about him,” Luke says, and he does actually sound sorry. He’s worrying the bottom corner of his lip with his teeth, and Ashton wonders absent-mindedly whether there’s a cause behind that particular nervous tic. “You don’t have to stay with me. I mean, like, obviously not, you don’t even know me. Michael’s just…like that.”

“Don’t worry,” Ashton assures him, because something in his gut is screaming that he really, really does want to stay with Luke. “I could use the company.”

“I thought you wanted to sleep…?” Luke trails off.

“Who ever gets what they fucking want in an airport?” Ashton says, and Luke laughs, laughs, and Ashton’s stomach flips in a way that’s nearly pleasant and almost-probably isn’t to do with the tuna melt he ate earlier. He resolves to try and make Luke laugh as much as possible for the next seven-plus hours. “Let’s find some good seats to hog before the rest of the flights tonight get cancelled.” Luke nods, biting his lip again, and grabs his and Michael’s bags, following in Ashton’s wake.

Ashton, for all of his hatred of airports, is a master at finding the perfect seats, so it’s really no surprise when he spots a secluded little square of seats tucked away behind a wall that looks like it’s a dead end but isn’t. He’s kind of proud, though, when Luke makes a noise of surprise and approval, and tries not to let it go to his head.

(He doesn’t succeed.)

“Mike’ll be gone for, like, three hours at the very least,” Luke says apologetically. Good, Ashton wants to say. Get you all to myself. Sounds a bit serial-killer, though, when he thinks about it, so he doesn’t.

“His boyfriend?” he enquires, hoping it’s coming off very much as I, too, am interested in having a boyfriend and not a man with a boyfriend? What is the world coming to? Luke nods, so Ashton reckons he got close enough.

“Yeah,” Luke says, a small smile forming on his lips. “Calum. They’ve been together as long as I’ve known them.”

“How long’s that?” Ashton asks, curious.

“Ten years? Something like,” Luke says. Ashton whistles.

“That’s a long time for someone your age,” he says. Luke makes a small noise of outrage.

“My age?” Luke says indignantly. “You’re what, like, twenty-six?”

“Twenty-five,” Ashton corrects. “See? I said I needed my beauty sleep.” Luke scowls, but it’s good-natured.

They busy themselves with getting comfortable for a few minutes. Ashton leaves the seats by the window that’ll get draughty in the morning for Michael (first come first served, he thinks) and picks the row opposite Luke to stretch out on, kicking off his shoes and using his backpack as a pillow. From the corner of his eye, he sees Luke take a travel pillow and thin blanket out of his duffel bag, and for some reason Ashton’s heart decides that’s the cutest thing Luke’s done so far tonight.

“So, where in Australia are you from?” Luke asks, fluffing up the tiny pillow as best he can.

“Sydney,” Ashton says. “You?”

“No way,” Luke says, turning around to face Ashton. “Me too!” He sounds so excited that Ashton doesn’t have the heart to point out that it’s not that surprising, given Sydney has a fifth of Australia’s population.

“Whereabouts?” Ashton asks, hoping it’s not coming off as stalker-esque.

“Western Sydney,” Luke says, swinging his legs up and lying down on his row of seats. “Like, Oakville kind of area?”

“No way,” Ashton says, because that is a little bit more exciting than simply being from the same massive city. “I’m from Richmond.”

“That’s so weird,” Luke says happily. “What are the odds of bumping into someone else from western Sydney in Heathrow Airport?”

“Well, you’re here with Michael, aren’t you?” Ashton says, lying down and arranging his coat over himself.

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be bumping into him,” Luke says. Then, as though the thought’s just struck him, he adds- “Hey, he said you play?” Ashton nods.

“Yeah, drums,” he says. “I can play guitar and a little bit of piano, too, but drums are my main love.” Luke grins, eyes crinkling around the corners, making Ashton’s stomach swoop.

“That’s fucking sick,” Luke tells him, and he sounds so earnest that Ashton actually believes that this random guy thinks Ashton’s ability to hit a drum with a stick is cool. “Our band needs a drummer, actually. I bet Michael’ll try and recruit you.”

“I don’t know,” Ashton says, pretending to muse. “My going rate is pretty high.”

“Oh?” Luke says. “Will ten pounds and a can of coke do?”

“I’ll do it for just the can of coke,” Ashton says, and Luke grins again. Ashton thinks it’s pretty unfair of the universe to present him with such a beautiful, out-of-his-league man when he’s tired and grumpy, so not up to his best conversation. If this were any other situation, Ashton would be wooing Luke so hard he’d put Romeo to shame.

“I’m going to try and sleep,” Ashton says. I want to try and be in a better mood tomorrow morning so I can flirt with you and possibly suck your dick, he adds mentally, just in case Luke can read minds. Luke just nods solemnly.

“Good luck,” he says.

“I’m going to need it,” Ashton tells him, flashing him a quick smile before closing his eyes. He hears Luke sigh, shuffle a little under his thin blanket, and peeks out of one eye to see him stretching. His phone, clutched in his left hand, clatters to the floor.

“Oops,” Luke says, blushing slightly as he twists around to pick it up and inspect it for damage. His shirt rides up a little, just enough for Ashton to see a sliver of smooth, pale skin on his hip. Ashton squeezes his eyes shut again.

God. He is so fucked.

-------

Ashton actually manages to drift off into an uneasy sleep, much to his surprise. When he’s pulled back into consciousness, far too soon for his liking, it’s to the low sound of people talking quietly.

“…number,” someone’s saying.

“I’m not doing that, Michael!” someone else says, voice almost squeaky with indignance.

“Why not?” the first person (Michael, Ashton’s sleepy brain supplies), says.

“Because!” the second person (Luke, Ashton thinks) says.

“What are you, four?” Michael scoffs. “That’s not a valid reason. I’ll give it to him.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Luke says.

“C’mon, Luke, what’ve you got to lose?” Michael says. “You’re never going to see him again.”

“My dignity,” Luke says pointedly. “Not that you’d know what that is.”

“You’re right,” Michael says agreeably, “so I’ll give it to him.”

“No!” Luke squawks, and it’s loud enough that Ashton opens his eyes. Both Michael and Luke, sat upright on their rows of seats, turn to look at him, Luke with a guilty look on his face, Michael unreadable.

“Morning,” Michael says.

“Time’s it?” Ashton mumbles. It’s still dark outside.

“Four,” Michael says, and Ashton groans, letting his eyes fall shut again.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Hey, at least you slept,” Michael says.

“Did you not?” Ashton asks.

“Luke did,” Michael says, nodding at Luke, who smiles bashfully back at him. “And now he’s hungry.”

“I can speak for myself, y’know,” Luke informs Michael, before turning to Ashton. “I am hungry, though.”

“Want to spend your entire life savings on a disappointing sandwich?” Ashton offers. “I’ll join.”

“Sure,” Luke says. “Mikey…?” Michael throws him a meaningful look, and shakes his head.

“Nah,” he says. “I’ll stay here, guard your precious little pillow.”

“Hey,” Luke says, pointing at Michael. “My little pillow helped me sleep.”

“Ashton slept without one,” Michael says.

“I don’t think my neck appreciated it, though,” Ashton says, sitting up and cracking his neck from side to side, making Luke wince.

“D’you want anything?” Luke asks Michael.

“A chocolate brownie, if you find anywhere that sells them,” Michael says. “And for you to-”

“Alright,” Luke says loudly, sounding slightly panicked.

“-fuck off,” Michael finishes, throwing Luke another indecipherable look.

“Chocolate brownie,” Luke repeats. “Got it.” Ashton swings his legs out from under his coat, feeling the sudden loss of heat, and shrugs his coat back over his shoulders.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s see where we can waste our money at three in the morning.”  

-------

They scour the entire terminal, but the only place that seems to be open and worth going to is Caffè Nero.

“Yet another overpriced panini,” Ashton mutters, staring at their selection in distaste.

“Not necessarily,” Luke points out. “You could go for an overpriced toastie.”

“Or treat myself to an overpriced salad,” Ashton agrees.

“I’m getting paid soon, so I’m going for a toastie,” Luke says, grabbing a ham and cheese toastie from the fridge.

“I just fucking love tuna,” Ashton says, grabbing another tuna melt. “Is it too early for a coffee? I’ll be wired for the whole flight and crash as soon as I land.”

“Too early for a coffee,” Luke tells him. “Get some chocolate instead.”

“What about a coffee and chocolate?” Ashton probes. Luke shakes his head.

“Chocolate,” he says firmly. Ashton mock-scowls, sighs dramatically, and goes up to order. He gets a hot chocolate, which is hot like coffee but chocolate like Luke told him, and a bag of crisps to wash down his tuna melt.

“Eat in or take away?” the guy taking his order asks. Ashton throws a glance at Luke.

“Take away,” Luke says. “Cheaper.”

“Good point,” Ashton says, turning back to the guy at the till. “Take away.”

“We can find somewhere to sit without Michael,” Luke says. “He hates the smell of tuna.” Ashton tries to ignore the way his stomach flips at the easy we, and the fact that Luke’s willing to sit with Ashton, a total stranger, rather than going back to his friend of a decade.

(He fails miserably.)

Luke gets two chocolate brownies, the fancy hot chocolate that Ashton wanted but his bank account didn’t, a can of coke and a bag of crisps on top of his ham and cheese toastie. They make idle chat while waiting for their food, and then find a little corner of the deserted terminal to sit down and start eating.

“God, I forgot how good a simple toastie can be,” Luke says, eyes fluttering shut in bliss as he takes his first bite. Ashton’s dick’s interest is piqued.

“Who’d’ve known that heating up ham, cheese and bread can make such a difference?” Ashton muses, taking a bite out of his own tuna melt. Not as good as Costa, he thinks, but better than Pret.

“We’ve got a toastie maker at home, but we never use it,” Luke says, and Ashton’s heart sinks. We. Of course Luke’s taken; how the fuck could he not be? He’s possibly a demi-god, that’s how attractive he is – there’s no way someone like that stays single.

“Oh?” Ashton says, trying not to let the disappointment leak into his voice. “Your girlfriend want more adult food than toasties?” Luke looks at him, startled.

“Girlfriend?” he says. Yeah, Ashton’s not exactly subtle when he’s tired.

“Well, I-” Luke cuts him off with a small, shy smile.

“I don’t, uh, really swing that way?” Luke says, as though it’s a question, and Ashton’s stomach uncurls a little.

“Oh,” he says. “Good. I mean. Me either.”

“Oh,” Luke says, smile getting bigger. “And, just for the record, I don’t, um, have a boyfriend, either. Not that I’m- I’m not trying to- like, I live with Michael and Calum, so.” He shrugs, looking away, and Ashton sees a fierce blush creeping up his cheeks. He desperately wants to kiss Luke.

“Wow,” Ashton says, when he remembers to respond. “That can’t be fun.”

“Fucking isn’t,” Luke mumbles around his toastie. He swallows, clears his throat, and then adds: “Well, mostly it’s great. Until they start fucking.” Ashton chokes on his bite of tuna melt, and through his splutters he sees a coquettish look on Luke’s face.

“You don’t have to listen, you know,” Ashton says, when he recovers.

“I don’t,” Luke assures him, finishing off his toastie and starting on his crisps. “I cycle very loudly through a playlist called Worst Songs To Have Sex To.”

“What’s on it?” Ashton asks, curious.

“Oh, you know,” Luke says, grinning. “Cotton Eye Joe, What Does The Fox Say, nursery rhymes, that sort of thing.” Ashton snorts.

“Fucking hell,” he says. “I don’t think I’d be able to have sex through that.”

“Well, either Cal and Mike are into some weird shit, or the walls are thicker on their end than mine,” Luke says. Ashton doesn’t have the heart to point out that that doesn’t make sense.

“You should play the same songs every time,” Ashton suggests. “Pavlov them into getting hard whenever they hear Row, Row, Row Your Boat.” Luke bursts out laughing.

“Fuck,” he says, through giggles. “I’m absolutely going to do that.” Ashton grins, a warmth growing in the pit of his stomach at the fact that he’s made Luke laugh like that.

“Or just have really loud sex back,” he says, and Luke’s giggles still.

“Well,” he says awkwardly. “I, like. Don’t really get to do a lot of that.” He’s blushing again, and Ashton cocks his head.

“Really?” he says.

“Really,” Luke says.

“You must have people throwing themselves at you,” Ashton says, and Luke bites his lip, shakes his head. “You’re fucking lying, Luke. Come on, look at you. Not getting laid, I get, no shame, that’s your choice, but not having the opportunity? I’m not buying that.” Luke shakes his head again, almost shy.

“Not really a lot of people’s type,” he says, and it sounds kind of sad. Ashton wants to kiss Luke, hold him in his arms, and also fucking kill whoever’s made Luke think that way.

“You’re kidding,” Ashton says flatly. “Luke, you’re the most-” he cuts himself off, because most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my entire twenty-five years of life is probably coming on a bit too strong. “You’re fucking stunning, Luke. You’re stunning, and you’re funny, and you’re cute. What’s not to like?”

“I don’t know,” Luke mumbles into his hot chocolate. “Maybe it’s because I’m shy. Guys like confident men.”

“Not all guys. I don’t,” Ashton says, without thinking. Luke looks up at him, blue eyes unreadable under his inky eyelashes.

“Yeah?” Luke says, quiet, and definitely shy.

“Yeah,” Ashton says boldly, thinking fuck it, why the fuck not? If this goes badly, he’s never going to see Luke again, is he? You miss a hundred percent of the shots you miss, or whatever that saying is. “Luke, you’re, like. The cutest guy I’ve ever seen. I’d date you in a heartbeat.”

“You would?” Luke asks.

“I would,” Ashton says. A small smile creeps onto Luke’s face.

“Oh,” he says.

“Yeah,” Ashton says, feeling a little awkward now. “So, like. Yeah.” Luke smiles at him, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Well, we’re both going to be in LA, aren’t we?” he says, sounding nervous. Ashton opens his mouth to respond – yes, that tends to be what happens when two people both get on a flight to LA – before his brain catches up with him, realises what Luke may potentially be hinting at.

But surely not, right? Not with Ashton.

“Are you asking me out?” Ashton asks. Luke looks away.

“Not really,” he says. “I’m- I might be, uh, asking you to ask me out, though.”

God. Ashton’s never met anyone so endearing in his fucking life.

“Let me take you to dinner,” Ashton says, finally, when it’s sunk in enough that Luke, Luke, the six-foot-three deity of pure, unadulterated sex and charm wants Ashton to ask him out. “Well, maybe not dinner, unless it’s in, like, two weeks, when I get paid. Maybe, like, a coffee. Or I could cook you dinner at my flat. I’m a good cook, and I promise I’m not a murderer.” Luke laughs again.

“Dinner at yours sounds good,” he says, grinning.

“Well,” Ashton says, finishing off the last of his hot chocolate. “I never thought I’d say this, but thank fucking God my flight got delayed.”

Luke’s answering smile makes Ashton feel slightly giddy.

-------

When they get back to Michael about an hour later, the sky is starting to brighten, and Michael’s fast asleep, having stolen Luke’s pillow.

“The bastard,” Luke says in a low voice, pointing it out to Ashton as he sets the brownie down carefully next to Michael. “What if I wanted to sleep?”

“Given that our flight’s leaving in, like, two hours, I think you’re a bit fucked on that front,” Ashton says.

“Don’t underestimate me,” Luke says. “I can fall asleep anywhere.”

“Perks of living such an extravagant, jetsetting lifestyle,” Ashton says solemnly, and Luke snorts.

“There have to be some perks in commuting from London to LA,” he says. “I’ll have to sleep on the flight.”

“Ooh, no,” Ashton says, wincing. “You can’t sleep on the flight. You’ll wake up after an hour and a half of unsatisfying sleep with a bad taste in your mouth and a stiff neck.”

“True,” Luke says, “but we’re supposed to have band practice today.”

“You practice out there?” Ashton asks.

“Yeah,” Luke says. “Cal’s already out there – he’s been recording bass for some ska band – so Michael and I are meeting up with him this afternoon for practice.”

“How do you practice without a drummer?” Ashton wants to know.

“GarageBand,” Luke says, and Ashton winces.

“Oh, no,” he says, emphatically. “I can’t be having my beloved instrument reduced to GarageBand.”

“Hey,” Luke says, mock-affronted. “GarageBand comes a lot cheaper than drummers.”

“Cheaper than a can of coke?” Ashton asks, grinning. Luke grins back, and then looks like he’s suddenly been struck by inspiration.

“Hey, wait-” he fumbles around in his bag for a few seconds, and then tosses the can of coke he’d bought earlier at Ashton.

“You’re in the band now,” he says. “I hope you’re good.” Ashton laughs.

“I might only be worth a diet coke,” he tells Luke, pocketing the coke.

“Hey,” another voice says sleepily – Michael. “Where’m I?”

“Airport, Mike,” Luke says patiently.

“Oh,” Michael says, rubbing his eyes. “Where’s Cal?”

“In LA,” Luke says.

“Oh,” Michael says, sounding a little sad.

“That’s where we’re heading,” Luke reassures him.

“Oh,” Michael says, a little happier, dragging himself into a seated position. He rubs his eyes, again, and then blinks at them blearily. “You’re Ashton,” he says to Ashton.

“I am,” Ashton says.

“You’re a drummer,” Michael says.

“I am,” Ashton says.

“You should join our band,” Michael says.

“I have,” Ashton says.

“What?” Michael says. Ashton holds up the can of coke.

“My payment,” he explains. “Meet the new drummer of-”

“5 Seconds of Summer,” Luke supplies.

“-5 Seconds of Summer,” Ashton finishes.

“I don’t even know your last name,” Michael says.

“I don’t know yours either,” Ashton says.

“Clifford,” Michael says.

“Irwin,” Ashton says.

“Like Steve Irwin?” Ashton groans.

“Yes, like Steve Irwin, no, I’m not his son, not at all related, don’t even like animals that much,” he says.

“Are you good?” Michael asks, disregarding Ashton entirely.

“I mean, I’m a session drummer,” Ashton says. “Draw your own conclusions.”

“Great,” Michael says happily. “We have practice this afternoon.”

“I already told him,” Luke says, and turns to Ashton. “Three p.m. I’ll pick you up.” Ashton grins at him, butterflies in his stomach.

“You’re going to have to give him your number, then, Ashton,” Michael says, watching the interaction between the two of them.

“I probably should,” Ashton agrees, holding his hand out for Luke’s phone. Luke passes it to him, and Ashton types in his number, saving himself as Better Drummer Than Garageband.

“Thank fuck,” Michael says, “because he’s been wanting to give it to you all evening. He thinks you’re cute.”  

“You’re behind the times, Mikey,” Luke says. “We’re going on a date.”

“I’m cooking him dinner,” Ashton tells Michael.

“What the fuck?” Michael demands. “When was this decided?”

“When you were sleeping,” Luke says. “On my pillow, by the way.”

“It’s so fucking small,” Michael says, chucking it at Luke, before rounding on Ashton. “I can’t believe I missed you asking Luke on a date. I’m never sleeping again.” Ashton’s saved from answering by an announcement cutting through loudly on the speakers.

“May I have your attention for flight BA8227,” a lady says. “This flight is now ready for boarding for rows twenty through thirty-one.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Ashton says, shoving his things haphazardly into his backpack. “Where are you guys sat?”

“Uh, row twenty-one,” Luke says, stopping his packing to check his ticket. “You?”

“Thirty-nine,” Ashton says. “But I’m running to the queue as soon as they let me.”

“I’m going to the toilet, Luke,” Michael says. “Save me a space in the queue.”

“Take your fucking bag!” Luke shouts after him, and Michael flips him off as he speedwalks off to the toilets. Luke rolls his eyes, and turns back to Ashton.

“Want a hand carrying Michael’s things?” Ashton offers.

“Would you?” Luke says. “Thanks, Ashton.” Ashton permits himself a private smile at the way his name sounds in Luke’s voice.

They shove everything in their bags as quickly as possible and jog over to the queue, which is already at least fifteen people deep, but is moving, which is something.

“Hey,” Michael says, strolling over to them. “Thanks for bringing my stuff.”

“Bastard,” Luke tells him, and Michael grins.

“You love me,” he says. “You’re not boarding with us, are you, Ashton?” Ashton shakes his head.

“Just providing a bag-carrying service,” he says.

“Luke’ll give you your tip,” Michael says, kicking his bag forward as the queue moves. Luke doesn’t move, though, and neither does Ashton.

“See you in LA, then,” Ashton says to Luke, and Luke grins.

“See you,” he echoes, and Ashton, who’s had approximately three-and-a-half hours sleep, can’t help himself – he leans in, tiptoes slightly, and presses a soft kiss to the corner of Luke’s lips.

“See you at practice,” Ashton says, leaning back, and relishing the flush on Luke’s cheeks. He desperately wants to lean in again, kiss Luke for real, but he stops himself. He only met the guy, like, eight hours ago, and he’s already joined his band and invited him over for a dinner date. “Text me.” Luke holds his phone up.

“I will,” he says. “I’ll text you as soon as we land.”

“Good,” Ashton says. “Now go, get on the plane.” Luke nods, throws Ashton one last smile, and steps forward to join Michael, who’s clearly been listening to their conversation.

“See you later, Michael,” Ashton calls, as he walks away.

“Don’t be late for practice!” Michael shouts back, and Ashton grins, and shakes his head.

-------

Half an hour later, Ashton’s finally on the plane. His backpack’s underneath the seat in front of him, his headphones are in, and he’s going to be home in just under twelve hours. And, perhaps even better than all of that, he’s going on a date with the hottest man alive.

As if on cue, his phone interrupts his music with a ding, and Ashton fishes it out of his pocket.

+447568392881 I know I said I’d text as soon as we landed, but I saw this really hot guy boarding the plane and I just had to tell you about him

Ashton grins.

Me Oh?  

Luke Yeah, he’s got this curly hair, gorgeous hazel eyes, about six foot, in incredible shape? You can’t miss him.

Me You could see his eyes from the plane? What are you, Hawkeye?

Luke Way to ruin the moment

Me Well, I’m just thinking – curly hair, gorgeous eyes, six foot (definitely a bit of a lowball estimate), in incredible shape – I saw a guy just like that earlier, only he had blue eyes.

Luke You’ll have to point him out to me when we land.

Me I will – I’ll be thinking about him for the whole flight.

It takes a while for the next message to come through, and the plane’s already gearing up to take off when his phone finally dings again.

Luke He’ll be thinking about you too.

[a-simple-imagine]

Always pt.2

Requested by a few nice readers: You meet up with Nat with the information she wanted but things between you become a little... tense.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Words: 2.5k+

A/N - I don’t know how I feel about this. I liked it but then it came to posting it and now i’m not so sure. 

WARNING - Mentions of Guns, knives, stabbing, strangulation, blood, swearing, alcohol and like one suggestive reference

PREV //

It hadn't taken you long to find the guy Natasha had been referring to or more so information about him. He was like a legend. Everyone knew of him but the story was embellished. You weren't sure what or who to believe. Luckily, you only wasted one bullet during your interrogation.

So many places she could have been, you find the redhead in some obscure little café. Walking straight past the hostess who insisted on trying to assign you a seat in the mostly empty establishment. You slide into the booth across from where Natasha seemed to be enjoying a panini with a side of curly fries. Reaching over you grab the edge of her plate and slide it into the middle of the table. Picking up a fry and dramatically taking a bite.

"Hey,"

"Funny. I don't remember asking you if you wanted some?" Natasha teased, head tilting as her emerald gaze settled on you. You offer her a tight-lipped smile, holding her gaze as you slowly reach for one half of her panini. You hadn't stuck around for breakfast and you were starving so it was the least she could do. But knowing Nat the way you do, you expected it wouldn't be so easy. As you grab the warm sandwich, you spy her hand rising. Weapon of choice; a fork. A small smirk takes over your lips. Your hand snaps back as the prongs of her fork slam into the table.

"Aww, someone's getting slow," you stick out your bottom lip, a sympathetic expression adorning your face before firing a wink in her direction. Sinking your teeth into the warm bread, cheese stringing as you pull it away from your lips. Natasha leans back in her seat.

"Do you have a reason for being here or are you just trying to steal my lunch?"

You shake your head, picking up the drinks menu and glancing at the options. "I told you I'd find you later."

"So you have information for me?" The redhead asks.

"Maybe," you simply shrug. She'd have to work a little for it. "Maybe not. Let's enjoy lunch first, shall we?"

"Enjoy my lunch." Natasha corrected, sitting up to grab a fry off the plate. "How about you get your own?"

"No thanks, I'm okay sharing yours." You insist, waving your hand dismissively as you continue to enjoy what you had already stolen. You drop the menu to the table. "I will have a Bloody Mary though if you're offering."

"It's like two in the afternoon and I don't think I was offering."

Your brows furrow as if it's insane she'd bring up the time of day. "So? It's called day drinking Natasha, look it up."

She rolled her eyes but did, in fact, get up and head for the bar. You wait for her return, shoving the last piece of the panini into your mouth

"Here," She popped the drink down on the table next to you before slipping back into the booth.

"Urgh," you groan extra loudly. "Thanks, babe, you're far too good to me." You take a satisfying sip.

"So," Natasha leaned forward onto her elbows. "What information have you got for me?"

"I will tell you," You lean forward too. Grabbing a fry and slowly placing it into your mouth. "If you promise not to leave as soon as I do."

"Why do you care if I stick around?" Natasha wondered. There were many ways you could answer that question but none that would essentially sum up why exactly you care. And so, instead, you just take another fry into your mouth before slumping down in your seat.

"I couldn't find out much about your guy. It all seemed like bullshit. I did shoot someone though- that was fun." You tell her, slipping out the booth to grab a paper straw. Dropping it into the glass and taking a sip.

"And?"

"And what?" You ask, confused.

"The fuck? You can't just say you shot someone and then stop talking?"

"Oh! We're still talking about that?" Natasha's expression remained relatively blank but you knew her too well. She was getting fed up and you were living for it.

"It's no big deal, he was useless. I only shot him in the thigh, he'll be fine." You explain with a soft, almost innocent smile.

"So what exactly did you find out? What was his name?"

"I don't know." You pop another fry into your mouth with a satisfied smile before putting her out of her misery. "He doesn't tell people his actual name. The most definitive thing I could get was the shark which is stupid. He sells to suppliers who then sell it to folks like me and you."

"So we get a rat to lead us to the cat."

"We?" You question. "When was I part of this mission? I have better things to do, thanks."

"Like what? Get wasted by yourself." Natasha questioned.

"Yeah. My handler won't give me any more jobs at the moment because you fucked up the last one so what else have I got to do?"

"Tell you what," Natasha starts. "Set up a meeting and I'll buy you all the alcohol you want."

"And dinner?" You add, sitting up in your seat.

"I just got you lunch," Natasha countered signaling to the near-empty plate sat between you.

"No you didn't, I just ate your lunch- well half of it and that's completely different." You fire back defensively. "You can't just show up here whenever you want and expect me to do shit for you. So dinner, all the drinks I want and dessert then I'll consider helping you."

"Dessert?"

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest. "I added another condition."

"Fine but-"

"But nothing." You interrupted sharply. "This isn't a negotiation."

"But-"

"No!"

"Y/N-"

"No." You huff. "It's either yes or no."

"Fine," she rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"Great!" You down the rest of your drink before slamming the glass against the table and siding out the booth. "I'll go set up a meeting, you go put on something pretty."

"We're doing this tonight?" She questions, watching you carefully.

"Dinner? Yes. Meet up? I don't know." You casually shrug and head for the exit.

"Don't shoot anyone this time." She calls from across the restaurant. You hold up your middle finger as you walk knowing she's probably looking but not giving her satisfaction of checking.

A few hours pass by before you see her again. It had taken some work but after talking around, you finally found someone who was willing to admit they sold enhanced weapons. They were actually a little braggy about it which was distasteful but a lot of criminals are. They're annoyingly edgy or at least try to be. You return to your apartment to shower and change into something a little less 'I stalk and kill people' but nothing too fancy. You then met Natasha downtown. The redhead walks a few steps ahead of you as you try to decide where to eat. "Stop staring at my ass,"

Your eyes snap up, a soft chuckle passing your lips. "I'm not,"

"Yeah you are," Natasha nodded, turning her head to look at you. A smirk on her lips. You speed up a little and take her hand in yours; pulling her abruptly into a nearby restaurant on the strip. You're lead to a table for two where you order some drinks and search over the menu.

"When do you go back?" You eventually ask. Wondering if her little mission had a deadline.

"When the job is done."

"So the longer I drag this out..."

"The longer I have to stay." She finishes and you smile a little. Only to have it diminish a second later. "I'll probably leave sooner though if you keep messing me around."

"I'm not doing anything of the sorts." You insist defensively. "I set the meet up for tomorrow night. I hope that's okay?"

Natasha just diverts her gaze to the waitress who finally returned with your drinks. The young woman was a pretty blonde with an assortment of freckles peppered over her skin. Your jaw tenses as she stands waiting for you to order. Natasha says hers first and then you. You watch the other woman who seems to be more interested in the waitress whose walking away than you right now. You take a large gulp of the Malibu sunset you ordered.

"I don't remember you being this much of an alcoholic."  Natasha ponders. The glass lingering at your lips lowers to the table.

"Yeah... well... I don't remember you being an avenger for the US Government. People change."

"Why are you so against my job? We're doing something good."

With a humorless huff of a laugh, you can't help but roll your eyes. "You should know as well as anyone that the world isn't that black and white. You're no better off than you were before."

"I've saved the world multiple times. What have you done?" It was out of character for Nat to get so defensive.

"What I get paid to do. Just like everyone else except I don't go around acting all high and mighty."

"Because you have nothing to be proud of," Natasha growls. "I've done a lot of bad shit in the past but I'm trying to be better. I didn't want to be a monster anymore."

"Oh, so I'm a monster? Thanks." Voice dripping with sarcasm you pick up your drink just to stop yourself from talking. Natasha knows how hard it is to get out of this business. It wasn't as easy as just handing in your notice. And honestly? It was easy money. It wasn't like you we're going around killing anyone who didn't deserve it.

"I didn't say that."

"You implied it." You reply as calmly as you can. Not wanting to cause a scene right now. "I do what I have to to get through the fucking day, Natasha."

Another silence follows only this time it's more awkward. You're visibly showing off your annoyance while every time you glance at her she's just staring down. If anything she looks a little sad but perhaps that was just you wanting her to feel bad about her words.

"Shield would have you," She says quietly after a moment.

"I'm fine where I am."

The dinner proceeded quietly- too much so. You couldn't bring yourself to say anything of value. All you could think about was her new view of you and your profession. It takes a special kind of person to be able to stomach your job. It was rough and dangerous more so for others. But you had never had someone consider what you do monstrous. Admittedly you didn't have a lot of friends. You spent a lot of time traveling and forced to lay low in hotel rooms. Natasha had been someone who had saved you a long time ago which resulted in a friendship that very quickly ended up sexual. You provided each other with relief from the otherwise insane thing that was your lives. But apparently, since running off to become a superhero she had come to think of you as trash. She did, however, stick to the deal and gave you everything you had requested. When the end of the meal came, the woman invited you back to her place which was surprising considering the situation. Part of you wanted to just leave but as always you ended up in bed with her. It felt... different this time. A little rougher. A little rushed. It just wasn't what it normally was and by the end, you were both lying on opposite sides of the bed. Facing away from each other.

With tired eyes, you awake and you're alone in bed. A soft sigh leaves your lips as you stretch out your arm to where she had previously been. You push yourself into an upright position, staring out into the darkness.

"Nat?" You call out but there's no response. That's when you spy a dark figure standing in the corner of the hotel room. Your eyes narrow, trying to figure out who it was but you couldn't make out their face. "Natasha?"

Again, no answer. But the figure moves closer. You try to move but you're frozen in place. Hands envelop your neck as you stare into the darkness. Getting tighter and tighter. Your hands claw at their hands, gasping for the smallest amount of air. Your head feels like it could explode but the majority of the pain is in your throat.

"You deserve this."Is all you hear as your consciousness slipped away. Everything going, Black.

You jolt awake, your heart pounding in your chest as your hands shoot up to check your neck. Remnants of tears rest on your cheeks and your breathing is ragged. A pair of arms suddenly envelops you and in your panic, you grab a small blade from under your pillow and dig it into the arm. The grip tightens as you hear Natasha's familiar groan.

"Calm down." She whispers surprisingly softly, as her body presses up against you. "I'm here, Y/N. It's Nat."

You lay like that. Still. Natasha presses a kiss against your skin as your breathing slows. When you're calm enough, you shuffle out of Natasha's grip and go get a first aid kit. The room is cast in a picturesque glow from the moonlight and table lamp. You sit on the bed cross-legged in nothing more than a pair of panties. Natasha held her arm out and you yank the knife out. You gently hold her arm, inspecting the wound as you clean up the blood spilling down her arm.

"I'm sorry," you announce quietly. Feeling really guilty about the whole ordeal. "I didn't... mean to stab you."

"It's okay I didn't expect you to." Your gaze briefly moves to her face which wore a warm smile. "Are you okay though? You seemed to be freaking out back there."

"I..." You trail off, not wanting to share your trauma. "You just got in my head with the whole monster thing and I keep a dagger on hand in case I get like attacked or something. When you grabbed me, I panicked and I stabbed you."

"What were you dreaming about?" Natasha wonders softly. You drop your head before shrugging.

"Do you wanna go to the hospital? I've cleaned it up and I can wrap it in a bandage but I don't know if you need anything else?"

"It’s not that deep so I'll be fine. Let's just go back to bed, yeah?" she gently places her free hand on top of yours which rested on your thigh. You nod a little, grabbing the gauze and beginning to wrap it around her arm.

"Here," you offer up some pain killers and a glass of water which she takes happily. You put your equipment back in its box before placing it off to the side. Switching off the light, you lie back down in bed. Breathing heavily as you stare into the darkness. Your body tenses as you feel her arms wrap around you again, pulling you closer. After a moment, you relax into her touch as tears brim your eyes. 

"I'll keep you safe," She mumbles quietly and despite your earlier attitude, you’re glad you came home with her. 

"Natasha,"

"Yeah?"

You hesitate. "...Thank you,"

[cakesunflower]

Reach For You [Dad!Calum AU] Ch. 5

Previous Chapters:  Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 

Chapter 5

WHEN CALUM RECEIVED a message from Aspen on Wednesday afternoon, it took him a moment to adjust to the name popping up on his screen. For four years he’d gone by without hearing from her, talking to her, so having her text him threw him off. Obviously it was something he still needed to adjust to. He wondered if it was just strange and damn near uneasy for her as it was for him. Probably, given that she seemed to look uncomfortable in his presence both times he was at her apartment. Calum could care less, though, so long as he got to spend time with Luna.

I’ll be in the city in about an hour. Do you want to meet up so we can talk?

He pursed his lips as he read her message, already knowing the subject matter they needed to talk about being this whole co-parenting thing they were going to attempt. Calum finished off the rest of his drink, the alcohol burning in his throat before he put the glass down on the bar top and waved for the bartender to take it. Perks of having his own club.

After texting her back that they’d meet at a cafe in Midtown, Calum pocketed his phone before letting out a sigh, right elbow propped up on the bar as he ran his ring clad fingers through his curls. For some reason he was dreading having this conversation, but he knew it was one to be had. He just hoped he and Aspen could come to an agreement and not bite each other’s heads off.

Not to mention the thought of sitting in a cafe, having dinner with her, made him uneasy. Calum groaned, tugging at his roots a bit. Why did he have to suggest a cafe? Why couldn’t he have just said they could meet up at Central Park or something? Why did she have to agree?

“You alright?” Luke’s voice sounded followed by a clap to Calum’s shoulder, making him look to his right as the blonde sat on the stool next to him.

“Yeah, all good,” Calum lied smoothly with a nod, sitting up straight while clearing his throat. “You, uh, sticking around tonight?” he asked, gesturing towards the empty club, a few hours away from opening.

Luke hummed with a shrug. “Yeah, why not? Are you?” he asked, flagging down the bartender to get a beer.

“No, actually.” At Luke’s raised eyebrow, Calum vaguely added, “I’ve got some things to take care of. I’ll try to drop by later, though.” Luke nodded before his blue eyes gazed at Calum, a slight furrow in his eyebrows as his cerulean eyes analyzed the tattooed man. Calum, slightly weirded out, frowned at Luke as he leaned away from him a little bit. “What?”

“You sure you’re okay?” Luke questioned, tilting his head slightly. “You look kinda stressed, man.”

Calum schooled his features, hoping to appear a lot more relaxed than he was. Truthfully, he hadn’t told anyone about his situation with Aspen, or the fact that he had a daughter. His best friends and family were all in the dark about it. Calum was by no means hiding Luna from them because he was embarrassed by her or something—Calum would much rather take a bullet than ever think something like that. But the people closest to him saw what a mess he was after Aspen left, saw him close up and refuse to let anyone in since then. He needed a second to adjust to his own new normal before introducing others to it.

Plus, he needed to let Luna adjust to him before bringing in everyone else. That could wait.

Two hours later, Calum found himself sitting at the cafe, waiting for Aspen’s arrival. His black coffee was sitting in front of him, steaming and ready to be drank with the sandwich he got as well, as he waited for her to show up. And she did, about ten minutes after he sat down, sliding into the seat across from him at the small table by the window with a panini and drink of her own.

Her greeting were the choice few words of, “I’m sure you wanna get out of here as quickly as I do.”

Calum’s gaze flickered to her, taking in her green eyes and the flush on her high cheekbones. It was the first week of September and it was already getting cold, the wind picking up outside. Calum ignored how he once thought Aspen’s flushed face was adorable, how it made her button nose and cheeks pink. Those were thoughts of the past. He had to focus on the present.

“Sounds ‘bout right,” Calum confirmed flatly, sitting up in his seat. “So what’re we doin’?”

Aspen’s green eyes met his brown ones, hands wrapping around her plastic cup of soda. He could see dozens of thoughts swirling in her eyes and silently waited for her to speak up. “Now that you’re in Luna’s life and she knows who you are, she’s gonna want you around all of the time.” He reveled in the happy satisfaction her words brought. “And as. . . Tense as this is for us, I don’t want her to be passed back and forth between us. I have custody, after all.”

Calum’s jaw clenched, her words hitting a nerve as he lifted his chin. “That’s not going to stay that way forever, you know.”

Her throat worked and Calum knew what he said bothered her just as much. She’s had Luna all to herself all these years, she can’t expect for that to continue. He was going to be involved as much as he could. “We’ll discuss that when the time comes,” Aspen said stiffly, eyes sharp. When it came to Luna, Calum could tell Aspen would never shy away. “That being said, you can have your days with Luna and I’ll have mine, but for her sake, she should be able to spend time with both of her parents together. Whatever issues we have with each other need to be put aside for her.”

Calum pursed his lips. “I agree,” he said before taking a sip of his drink.

“But she stays here,” Aspen stated firmly, making Calum blink before furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. She rolled her eyes, shooting him a knowing look. “You live in California, right?” Slowly, he nodded. “So Luna stays here. Her school and life is here. If you want to take her somewhere, you most definitely clear it with me and it’ll be when she has break or something. Otherwise, she doesn’t leave the New Jersey-New York area, got it?”

This time, Calum rolled his eyes with a scoff. Her reasoning was just, but unneeded. “What, d’you think I’m just gonna pick her up and run off to California?” With a sarcastic, sneering smirk, Calum added, “Running away is your thing, remember? Not mine.”

Aspen inhaled sharply at that, feeling her chest constrict at the unforgiving look in his dark eyes and full lips pursed in a way that showed he was satisfied with the reaction his words got from her. He was bating her, purposefully making her feel like shit for what she had done, and Aspen wanted to scream. To tell him that he didn’t know what the fuck went on and that he needed to shut the fuck up. But she couldn’t. She was still angry, still hurt and still embarrassed.

Now that Calum was back in her life, Aspen had a feeling that the truth may come out eventually, and the very thought of that happening was both terrifying and something she anticipated. She didn’t want to be the bad guy in this situation, but she knew once the truth came out, it would hurt Calum even more. And even though he was still openly pissed at her, still threw his jabs, Aspen didn’t want him to be hurt. Fuck, she still cared about him, even if he didn’t think so.

Her head hurt. This was too complicated. So messy.

Aspen bit the inside of her cheek, averting her gaze as she looked around the somewhat busy cafe. It wasn’t too loud, some song distinctly playing through the shop’s speakers, and the combined smell of coffee and food was appealing.

“You can be mad at me for the rest of your life,” she finally spoke up after releasing her breath, looking back at the tattooed man in front of her. His curls were falling across his forehead a bit, eyebrows hidden underneath as he subtly raised his eyebrows, eyeing her from over the cup of coffee he was drinking. “But you and I have to civil in front of Luna. Pretend that we can tolerate being in the same room. She doesn’t need to know that her parents can’t keep their shit together with each other. That means you stop with your comments in front of her.”

Calum exhaled sharply through his nose, slightly affronted as he put his drink down before lacing his fingers together, his rings clinking together as he leaned forward on the table. His dark, narrow eyed gaze was fixed on Aspen, harsh and irritated. “I may say a lot o’ shit, Aspen, but one thing I would never do is bad mouth my child’s mother to my child.”

Did she seriously assume he was capable of something like that? Aspen may have fucked him over in the biggest possible way someone could, she may have hurt him in more ways than one, but the absolute last thing Calum was going to do was lay it all on Luna. What, did Aspen expect him to turn their daughter against her? Whether he liked it or not, she was Luna’s mum, and Calum would just have to adjust to the fact that she was going to be a part of his life from now on.

The thought twisted his stomach unpleasantly. Yeah, that was definitely something that was going to take time getting used to.

Aspen’s throat tightened at his words, but she still kept up a neutral expression as she shrugged indifferently. “Just making sure,” she responded, the hint of an edge still present in her tone. “Her school starts tomorrow. If. . .” She paused, pursing her lips and Calum could tell she was wrestling with herself, debating if she should finish what she was about to say. She sighed deeply then before continuing. “I’ll put your name and contact information so if there’s an emergency or something and I can’t be reached, you’ll be the second person they call. You can pick her up from school on the days you have her. Just. . . Text me when you do, okay? Let me know when you have her.”

She felt ridiculous for feeling so uneasy about that. Calum was Luna’s father and from what Aspen has seen already, she knew he would take care of her. Aspen was used to being at work while Luna was at pre-school or with the babysitter, but now their routine was changing. Luna would either be at school—she was starting kindergarten, the youngest kid in her class—or with the babysitter or with Calum, and Aspen knew she would have to get used to it. Everything was changing, and it was changing fast. She needed to be okay with this because she knew Luna wouldn’t mind the change if it meant spending time with Calum.

Aspen was used to doing all of this alone. Now whether either of them liked it or not, she had a partner in Calum. And it was an adjustment she had to get used to quickly.

She prayed co-parenting with Calum wouldn’t end the same way as her relationship with him had.

                                                                   *****

“Where are you headed to right now?” Jodi asked, her voice crackling through the speakers of Aspen’s car as she drove.

Aspen made a right turn. “Luna’s school is having a parent-teacher night. I’m headed there now.”

“Oh,” Jodie responded, stretching the word out before asking, “Is Calum gonna be there?”

Exhaling sharply through her nose, Aspen hummed an affirmative. “Yeah, he’s meeting me there.”

“How’s that going?” Jodi questioned, curiosity heavy in her voice. “You two have been co-parenting for, what, like two weeks or something?”

Aspen licked her teeth, thinking over Jodi’s question. It wasn’t too bad, truthfully. Since Luna’s school started a week and a half ago, they switched off on picking her up after assigning days. Monday to Wednesdays were Aspen’s while Thursday to Saturday were Calum’s, and Sunday they were to spend together. Of course, when Calum picked up Luna from school on Thursday it was only to spend the day with her before dropping her back at Aspen’s for the night, and then Friday to Saturday he’d be with her. God, it’s only been two nights that Luna spent with Calum—in the city—and Aspen could barely handle it. She hadn’t ever spent the night apart from her baby.

Friday night, Aspen called her friends and she got drunk so she didn’t have to spend too much time worrying over her daughter. Saturday she distracted herself by picking up an extra shift at work. God. She’d need to learn how to cope. The relief Aspen felt when Calum came by on Sunday with Luna was overwhelming, wondering how she’d deal with her daughter being away from her for two nights from now on. Of course, Calum stayed for spaghetti Sundays. Aspen knew that’s how it was going to be.

“It’s okay, we’re handling it,” Aspen answered Jodi’s question. “Luna loves him and he’s honestly really good with her so it’s, uh, it’s working out.”

“And what about you two?” Jodie inquired as Aspen stopped at a red light. “Are things with you two awkward?”

Aspen sighed once again, pursing her lips. Jodi didn’t know the whole story of her and Calum’s break up—not many people did—so Aspen couldn’t really indulge in all of her feelings, not even to her best friend, which kind of sucked. “Yeah,” Aspen said, letting out a short humorless laugh as she thought of the past two and half or so weeks. It had taken Aspen a minute to get used to Calum’s texts when he was informing her that he had picked Luna up from school, even more so to adjust to having him around her apartment. She hadn’t yet been to Calum’s apartment in the city, but from what Luna gushed, it was big and pretty. “Things are tense with us and comments are dropped here and there but we’re managing to be civil in front of Luna.”

“Comments?” Jodi repeated as Aspen pulled into the elementary school’s parking lot. “What kind of comments? Is he being an ass?”

As she parked her car, Aspen let out another breathless laugh. “We’ve both got unresolved issues neither of us are too ready to talk about, Jodi,” Aspen reminded as she picked up her purse from the passenger seat. “Hey, I just got to Luna’s school. I’ll talk to you later.”

Jodi bid her goodbye and grabbing her phone, Aspen got out of her car and headed towards the entrance, joining the few other parents who had just arrived. Tonight was basically about all of the kindergarten parents getting to meet the teachers, since scheduling conflicts prevented this night from happening right before or when school had actually started. When Aspen had informed Calum of the night, he had agreed right away.

Aspen caught sight of him lingering outside of Luna’s classroom with a few other parents, everyone seemingly waiting for the teacher to go in. He leaned against the wall, ankles crossed and hands shoved in the pockets of his army green bomber jacket, and as she approached him Aspen could see some of the moms, no matter their age or marital status, throwing intrigued looks his way. Clearly they were all feeling some kind of attraction towards the young, hot dad.  

Aspen ignored that she just thought of Calum as thought. She certainly had at one point. She didn’t want to acknowledge it now.

Just as Aspen was about to reach him, he was about two feet away, someone suddenly blocked her path and Aspen held back a groan when she realized it was Bailey Clarkson, one of the moms of Luna’s classmate. Her daughter was Brooke and Aspen was not one to speak badly about little kids but that girl was as annoying as her mother. Brooke and Luna attended the same pre-school and there had often been times where Brooke would pick on Luna, and whenever Aspen would talk to Bailey about it, the other mother would just blow it off and say kids will be kids. She got on Aspen’s nerves majorly.

“Aspen, I was hoping to run into you,” Bailey smiled sweetly, clasping her hands in front of her.

Of course you were. Aspen offered a tight lipped smile, catching sight of Calum glancing over at the mention of her name, expression bored as they all waited. “Here I am,” she responded, the unenthusiasm in her voice going unnoticed or being ignored by Bailey. “What’s up?”

“Well,” Bailey drawled, her southern accent coming out to play. She was from Alabama and Aspen wished she had stayed there. “I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page about the girls. You know, letting them handle whatever grievances they may have between themselves instead of us getting involved.”

Aspen blinked at her, unable to help the look of surprise that washed over her face as she stared at the older mom. Had she—did she really just say that? What kind of backwards parenting was that? “They’re five year olds, Bailey.” Well, Luna was almost five. “We’re supposed to get involved as their parents. We shouldn’t just sit back if one of our girls is getting picked on by someone.” That was Aspen’s neutral way of saying she was going to just let it go if Bailey’s daughter tried to bully Luna.

Over Bailey’s shoulder, Aspen caught sight of the way Calum’s eyebrows furrowed when he heard what she was saying, when he heard that implication that Luna was getting picked on, standing up straight as he listened in with a small frown. Aspen met his eyes, and for the first time since they first reunited there was a lack of hostility in Calum’s eyes, instead he looked at her questioningly over what she was talking about.

Aspen straightened and looked back at Bailey. “If Brooke and Luna have any more issues, I’m hoping you and your husband can sit down to talk to me and Luna’s dad.”

Bailey blinked at Aspen’s words, clearly taken by surprise. So far as Bailey and a bunch of the other parents knew, Aspen was a single parent, so the mention of Luna’s dad was clearly unexpected. Aspen found some satisfaction in Bailey’s shocked reaction, especially because she knew Bailey thought herself better than Aspen because her family was more traditional. Aspen wasn’t married or wasn’t in a relationship with Luna’s father—those facts made Bailey believe she was better than the younger mother. How childish.

“Luna’s dad?” Bailey repeated in bewilderment, clearly wondering when this development occurred.

Upon hearing that, Calum pushed himself off the wall and took the few steps over, walking around Bailey to come and stand next to Aspen. She glanced up at him—he was so tall, she forgot, that she only reached his shoulder—and caught the obviously fake friendly smile he sported. Guess Aspen could still pick out some of his expressions.

“Calum Hood, nice to meet you,” he introduced, right hand outstretched as he looked at Bailey. The way he spoke made it sound like it was anything but nice to meet her, and Aspen couldn’t help but agree.

“O-Oh,” Bailey blinked in surprise, her brown eyes taking in the man in front of her as she shook his hands. Aspen wanted to roll her eyes at her in-awe expression. It was obvious practically ever mom, and even some dads, couldn’t keep their eyes off Calum. Glancing at Aspen, Bailey quirked an eyebrow, “I thought you said Luna’s father wasn’t in the picture.”

Aspen saw Calum’s jaw clench as he let go of Bailey’s hand, but neither of them missed the haughty, accusatory tone in Bailey’s voice. If Aspen had to hear anymore from her, she was sure she was going to deck her right in the elementary school hallway in front of all of these parents. That wouldn’t be a good first impression on her daughter’s teacher.

Before Calum could respond, Aspen smoothly said, “Work keeps Calum in California, but he’s here for a while, right?”

She glanced at Calum as she said that, his own head turning to look down at her in the slightest fraction of puzzlement. Their eyes met and she silently begged for him to go along with this. She was half afraid that he wouldn’t, that he’d just let her embarrass herself because it was her fault Calum had never been around in the first place. But Aspen was sick of Bailey’s passing comments and she was sick of having to handle the mother of the girl who kept bothering Luna by herself. She hoped Calum would back her up in this. For their daughter’s sake, at least.

“Right.” She almost let out a sigh of relief when she heard Calum speak in an easy tone, his gaze returning to the woman in front. “So you’ll be seein’ a lot of me from now on.”

Bailey raised her eyebrows, her gaze flickering back and forth between the two, and if she had something to say she didn’t get the chance to say it because the teacher, Mrs. Gardens, had stepped out of the classroom and was calling for the parents to come on inside. And as Bailey went off to her husband and they began shuffling inside, Aspen heard Calum mutter, “Does Luna have issues with her kid?”

Aspen could feel his presence right behind her as they entered the room amongst the other parents, feeling herself tense slightly at the proximity as they searched for the desk marked as Luna’s. “Her daughter used to pick on Luna. If they’re in the same class I wouldn’t be surprised if it happens again,” Aspen begrudgingly whispered back, looking around. She felt Calum tap her shoulder and she glanced at him before following his nod towards a desk in the middle of the room. She followed him while adding in a quiet grumble, “Nastiest four—five?—year old I’ve met.”

Calum’s eyebrows drew together in a frown at that as they reached Luna’s desk. There was only one chair and the mothers were all sitting down while the fathers stood by, so Calum reluctantly gestured to the chair for Aspen. She glanced at him but he averted his gaze, pressing his lips together as she took the seat. He wouldn’t have been able to fit in that tiny thing anyway. As the room was filled with a buzz of parents chattering and settling down, Calum asked quietly, “And she doesn’t want to interfere?”

Aspen scoffed as she put her purse on the table, leaning back in the small chair as she crossed her arms over her chest. “No. Thinks the girls should handle it themselves. It wasn’t her daughter that had to be picked up crying from pre-school because another girl was being mean to her.”

Something sparked in Calum’s chest, muscles tensing as his frown deepened. A protective instinct took place as he practically growled, “Her kid made Luna cry?”

He saw Aspen roll her lips into her mouth as she looked up at him, a disgruntled look in her green eyes as she nodded. Then she scoffed out a sigh. “I get that they’re little kids and girls can be mean but, I mean, they’re so little. The fact that Mrs. Clarkson doesn’t wanna do jack-shit about it is ridiculous.”

Calum’s jaw tightened at that, his sharp eyes flickering towards the woman in conversation, who sat at a desk nearest to the door with her husband standing right next to her. She was smiling widely and chattering with the other parents around her, and Calum could feel the irritation spark up within him at the sight of her, being on the same page as Aspen as he understood her indignation. Just the knowledge that her daughter had picked on his, had made his Luna cry, and that woman wanted to do nothing about it ticked him off. He knew, just by looking at her, if it was her daughter that had been taken home crying, Bailey Clarkson would raise all kinds of hell. Fucking annoying.

Aspen snorted lightly, making Calum look at her, realizing that she was already shooting him a look. “Hope you’re ready to deal with your fair share of irritating parents. It’ll probably only get worse from here.”

He pursed his lips at that, pushing back the smirk that threatened to curl at his lips at Aspen’s words. He stubbornly didn’t want to give her satisfaction.

The teacher, Mrs. Gardens, then introduced herself once the parents quietened. She talked about herself for a moment before she instructed the parents to look in the desks of their child’s, because there was a present left for them from their kid. Calum’s gaze dropped as Aspen reached inside the shelf underneath the desk, eyebrows raising as she pulled out a piece of paper that had a colorful drawing on it.

He felt his heart pick up its pace as Aspen laid it on the desk for them to look at, the smile easily dancing across his lips as he took in the drawing. It was a simple drawing obviously by a little kid, and Luna had chosen to draw spaghetti Sunday, by the looks of it. She drew what seemed to be Aspen’s kitchen, three stick figures with clothes sitting around a square table with bowls of spaghetti. One of them was obviously Calum with dark curly hair, taller than the other two, the one in the middle was Luna, small and with just as dark and curly but longer hair, and the one on her other side was Aspen, her eyes green and smile just as wide as the other two.

It made Calum’s heart so fucking warm, made him so happy to be a part of that picture. The emotion that took over his body came out of nowhere, his throat tightening at the sight of Luna’s drawing. He better not fucking cry.

Aspen, who was wearing a soft smile of her own, saw the sweetness in the picture. Luna had many drawings, and a lot of them just included the two of them. This new addition, Aspen couldn’t help but think, made them feel. . . Complete. And that very thought had her body tensing and throat drying.

So, picking up the picture, she looked up at Calum. She tried not to let her reaction show when she took in his expression, saw the utter softness and fondness he was displaying looking at the drawing. “Here,” she said, holding up the paper for him. “You should keep this one.”

Calum’s dark eyes met Aspen’s, the surprise flashing through them, as if he didn’t expect for her to give this to him. He looked at Aspen for a couple of seconds, wondering if she didn’t want the drawing because it included him or if she genuinely wanted him to have it. But there was nothing but sincerity in her green eyes, even a hint of a smile curling at her lips, and Calum swallowed the thick lump that formed in his throat. There was a slight furrow in his eyebrows as he tried to keep whatever emotions he was suddenly flooded with at bay—God, who knew a drawing could make him feel so. . . Loved?

So he took the paper, holding it between ring clad fingers, his gaze fixed on it as he muttered a quiet, “Thanks,” to Aspen as he admired the colors and the drawing.

Despite everything, Calum hoped Aspen knew just how grateful he was.

tags:  @crownedbyluke @gotta-try-something-new @rishlo @bitchinbabylon @ghstofcalum @dxmncalum @letsfxckindance @unsexilexi @calumthoodsyonce @grreatgooglymoogly @therainydays4 @sadbreakfast-club @lifeakaharry @codycasperky2 @biggestslutforcalum @complete-trash-101 @kinglyhemmings @hemmomfg @friendly-neighborhood-michelle @cxddlyash @checkeredcalum @lovelettercalum @nostalgia-luke@captain-what-is-going-on @slimthicccal @kaytiebug14 @bloodytbs @miahelizaaabeth @ghostofhood @elsysoza @writing-in-riverdale @tourettesboi @angelbbycal @bbteamlove @xoforeverx @stfujace @thebodaciouscth @helplesshood @runawaywithme-xo @lietomemyvalentine @emma070900 @cosmixcalum @babygirlcashton @calumamongmen @5sos-stan4lyfe @ihatemyself21 @lipstickstainfading @crystalisinfinite @misskarynie @wrappedaroundcal @wcstethenights @michealcliffturd @akacalciumhood @clum-thomas @poppedpins @dollbitxhes @5saucewho @hearts-to-the-sky @booklove-2 @walkedhomealone @andreabjoerg @qualitylu @softboycal @early-thoughts @5saucefanfic @dher216  @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you @babyloniancal @xlov3quotingx @aybbblondie @rexorangecounty @flowerchild8341 @romanticalumhood @kaxseychill @babyloncalm @calistheloml @calumh-excess @egyptiangoldhood @irwinkitten @asht0ns-world @visualm3nte @xhaileyreneex @cal-pal-cuddles @invisiblexcth @soulmatecashton @gettingjillywithit @cliffordcntrl @mermaid-merrick @dannisos @cals-babylons @mysteriouslycali @calsxmas @sassy-asht0n @hoodcentral @cathartichaoss @inlovehoodx @gigglyirwin @grinchluke @bearsbitxh @thepixiedreambitch @calumhoodless @dancingonanemptywallet @antisocialbandmate @sunnysidesblog @escap0-with-me @rosa-aurum @thewhitestbitch-u-know @rosecoloredash @biwriting @isitbalsamic @calteahood @2k17muke @theagenderwhocriedwolf @antisocialbandmate 

[artificialqueens]

Cruising for a bruising, Part 2 (Branjie) - Q-Tip & TheDane

Authors note:

We’re back, back, back again! Thank you to everyone for the attention to the first chapter of this story. It’s currently at 80+ notes, and we’re so happy with the love and the talks we have gotten with you guys! Q-tip and I have worked hard on this next chapter, and we hope you will enjoy Nina dragging Brooke out of his comfort zone, Vanjie going to the pool and a mystery guest appearing from the shadows! Please come find us at @ArtificialQtip and @TheArtificialDane or ask for our Discords! Beyond this planet grateful to VeronicaSanders who has once again risked her sanity by betaing. We own you the world and so many thanks for your time and your expertise!

“Stop tryina make me feel pressed hos, I ain’t no fucking panini.”

-

Brooke had imagined there wouldn’t be an ocean of options onboard the cruise, and boy had he been wrong. The entire deck was littered with stores, and Brooke felt overwhelmed right away, not even sure where they would start, but thankfully he had Nina with him, and if there was one thing his friend always had - it was a plan. Nina picking a smaller shop, properly for Brooke’s benefit, the space filled with graphic t-shirts, drag queens and slogans littered across oceans of fabric.  

Nina’s brows were set in a determined half-frown as he surveyed the options before them, biting his lip in concentration as he pulled Brooke from rack to rack, humming a jazzy tune to himself.

“Hmm.”

Every now and then Nina took a shirt from the racks, holding it up against Brooke’s body, Brooke holding out his arms like he used to do with his mom as a kid.

“No. I think you need a little more pizazz. How do you feel about blue?”

“As long as I’m comfy.”

“Wrong answer.”

Brooke laughed, and he knew he had picked right, Nina’s easy joy and the warm glow that always surrounded him keeping Brooke’s anxiety in check

They made their way through the store, some the shirts ending back on the rack, but most made it to the ever growing pile on Nina’s arm, his sister holding onto them for safe keeping.

Brooke kept an eye out for anything plain. He knew Nina would force him out of his comfort zone, his friend dressing like a Disney Channel uncle, the fun kookiness of her style something Brooke was sure he could make work. At least until they were back on land. If all went wrong, he would just call it cruise craziness, and attempt to forget all about it just like the time he figured he’d try growing out his hair.

“Here.”

It’s was simple, a black piece, with Atlantis in tiny white lettering square on the chest. Brooke looked it over, pulling at it to test the elasticity. The fabric was nice. Surely cotton, maybe a little polyester. Brooke turned it inside out, searching for the label.

“You’re not getting married to it Brooke.”

“Give me a minute.” Brooke found the label, turning it into the light so he could read it.

“You took less time checking out Vanjie!”

“I know true quality when I see it.”

Nina rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his face before he made a beeline for the shorts, Brooke briefly considering if he should have given Nina a budget.

“Can I help you with something sir?”

Brooke jumped, quickly turning the t-shirt back out. “Sorry.” He turned towards the voice, realising that it was the shop assistant, a tall, blonde man who looked to be in his mid twenties, his hair falling around his face. “Sorry. Just looking.”

“Are you Canadian?”

“Is my accent that strong?”

“No one else on this boat would say sorry two times.” The man smiled, and Brooke couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sorry aboot that.” Brooke turned to the rack, about to put the shirt back when he was interrupted.

“No! Don’t.”

“Am I putting it in the wrong place?”

“No, just.. I think you’d look really nice in it.”

“Oh.” Brooke looked at the shirt again, putting it over his arm. “Well, thanks.” Brooke was about to leave, when he realised he recognised the other man’s face. He had seen him somewhere on the boat before, but where? “Wait, didn’t I see you at the bar?”

“I do everything around here.” The man smiled, holding his hand out and Brooke took it, their hands meeting in a firm and brief handshake. “I’m Justin.”

“Brock.”

“We’re kinda understaffed for the summer. New management fired off two thirds of our budget on Drag Queens.”

“And you don’t watch Drag Queens?”

“Sometimes.” Justin smiled. “I bartended that nature documentary. Did you see it?”

Brooke snorted out a laugh. “Yes. Yes I did.” It had been a stroke of genius from Silky to suggest Vanjie narrated a documentary live. It had started off as a joke on Twitter, Silky filming Vanjie on their trip to Hawaii fighting with a bird over their breakfast, and the clip had gone viral. “It was.. Something.” Brooke was pretty sure he had almost broken a rib, his abs hurting from how much he had laughed at Vanjie narrating a penguin march.

“Brooke!”

“I have to go.” Brooke pointed over his shoulder, Nina standing at entrance to the dressing room with his hands full, clearly ready for Brooke to start actually trying on everything he had found for his makeover.

“Come by the bar sometimes? Ocean 8, best drinks on the ship! I’ll give make you a Tropical orgasm? On the house.”

Brooke smiled. “Thanks, that’s really nice of you.”

“Brooke!” Nina called again.

“I’m coming!”

Brooke walked over, not noticing that Justin was watching him walk away.

/

Vanjie had looked all over for Brooke, and he was starting to get real fucking pissed. He had been left hanging like an ugly Grindr hookup at breakfast, and now his man was nowhere in sight. Vanjie had tried to be the bigger person, settling down when he saw Brooke make a beeline for Nina without a word, the two old friends, and Vanjie could understand it. Sometimes you just needed your good Judy, and he got that. He really did, but that didn’t mean that he had to like it when he looked fine as fuck. Vanjie had put on his best pair of speedos, the little red number making his ass look like a ripe peach ready for the eating.He was an exclusive buffet, and the guest of honor hadn’t even shown up. Brooke should be here, with his sexy smile and his plate in hand, ready to taste the goods.

“Why you walking ‘round like that sis?” A’keria was laying on a sunchair, sunglasses on his face, his shorts so low you could almost see his peas and beans. “You’re making me seasick.”

“Shut up.” Vanjie dumped down by the pool, dangling his toes in the water. Silky was in the pool, bopping around like a cork, and under normal circumstances Vanjie would have jumped right in. He was even wearing a brand new pair of speedos, but where was the fun in strutting his stuff when the one he wanted to strut it for wasn’t even there?

“Any of you seen Brooke? Bitch been gone since breakfast.”

“Nah, haven’t seen her,” A’keria answered, though he did push his sunglasses into his hair, Silky swimming to the edge of the pool. Vanjie could sense the other guests sneaking glances at him, but he had gotten used to it. “She finally made a run for it?”

Vanjie hadn’t even considered that possibility, her blood running cold.

“She probably out fucking some other bitch,” Silky laughed, kicking his feet as he hung on, a wide smile on his face. “You seen the trade on board this ship.”

“Oh honey, I tasted the trade on board this ship, and it’s good.”

“Stop tryina make me feel pressed hos, I ain’t no fucking panini.”

Both Silky and A’keria laughed, and Vanjie wanted to join them. He really did, but he had seen the trade, and maybe they were right. They were on a gay cruise, of course there were hot guys everywhere. That was part of the reason why people went on these boats, to get drunk, fuck for 10 days and then go home without ever having to see anyone ever again. Everyone was flirty, it was in the air, or maybe even the water, and while Vanjie had no problem fighting off the attention he received, the same couldn’t be said about Brooke. Vanjie knew he was fucking gorgeous so of course people wanted a piece of him. Right now he could feel the eyes of several men checking him out, his red speedo chosen for that exact purpose, but he was looking to catch a very different fish. Vanjie shot one of the men a dirty look, the other back off immediately, and Vanjie smiled, feeling very satisfied.

“She gone found herself a better deal.” Silky smirked, pushing the water so it splashed on her friend.

“Bitch!”

“Someone way less psychotic than your crazy ass.”

Vanjie had seen the trade talk to Brooke. Had seen his kind, tall, disgustingly handsome asshole of a man laugh at their jokes, reply to compliments with thanks and smiles, and even say sorry if someone bumped into him to grab a feel of his junk or trunk. Vanjie wasn’t proud of that part of him. He was a jealous bitch, and he couldn’t help it. If he could, he would gouge out the eyes of anyone who dared look twice at what was very much his, but he was trying to be mature, and Vanjie knew Brooke hadn’t no idea someone was flirting with him 99% of the time, Vanjie having to practically shout in his face that he found him hot to get him to make out with him the first time.

“Y’all ain’t no fucking help,” Vanjie whined, dumping down on the hot stones of the poolside, looking up into the sun, his mind racing away with his internal catalog of every man he had seen getting close to Brooke for the last three days.

“Relax, girl,” Silky chuckled, touching his knee and shaking it to calm him down. “She’s probably tightening up that bod with Kameron. Getting her pump on.”

Vanjie lit up. Of course. Of course. Vanjie sat back up, taking a deep breath of relief. There was a gym on board, and with Kameron there, there was no way Brooke wasn’t using this time off as a chance to get a workout in. After all, there was no other place Brooke would willingly hang out on the ship, at least not without Vanjie at his side.

/

“How are you doing in there?”

“I’m doing.”

“You know, Brooke,” Nina sighed, leaning against the side of the fitting room, barely catching it as Brooke threw yet another shirt back in his face. “You don’t have to change yourself. You know that right? Clothes are a way to express yourself. Show off your personality with a wham bam.”

“If I strangle you with my shoelace, does that count as expressing myself through clothing?”

“Uh, no,” Nina laughed heartily. “But maybe your personality is just.. You know… Laid back and chill?”

Brooke poked his head out from behind the curtain, Nina passing yet another shirt to Brooke.

“I’m all for this change, but it feels pretty sudden. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yearh, I’m fine..” Brooke accepted the shirt, although he was sure the frown never left his face. “It’s just.. I never realised I didn’t look…”

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

Brooke walked out of the dressing room, wearing a tight pair of floral shorts and a white tank top.

“Hmm.” Nina looked him up and down, tapping his lower lip. “I feel like you need a little more oompfh. Maybe more flowers?”

“I’m not wearing enough?” Brooke gestured to his shorts.

“You can never wear enough flowers.” Nina followed Brooke’s hand, his eyes first going wide, then squeezing shut, his blue eyes nothing more than slits. “But you definitely need those shorts a size up.”

Brooke looks down, eyeing his own body in the offending garment, a flush rising in his cheeks. “Oh, fuck off.”

/

Brooke opened the door to his cabin, peeking inside, a rush of relief washing over him when Vanjie wasn’t there. He was alone for a few minutes, and that was all he needed. Brooke had paid way too much money for it, but he had a thick stack of clothes in his hand, Nina - smart as a whip as always - had told him to not get a bag, so Brooke just dumped everything into his suitcase before he shoved the receipts to the very bottom of their trash can. He was considering cutting the labels out of the shirts, trying to decide if that was crazy or not and seriously debating if he should call someone about it, when the key card beeped and Vanjie walked in.

“Oh thank fuck ho, I thought you had gone thrown yourself into the ocean.”

“Hi.” Brooke quickly sat down on the bed, turning against Vanjie, trying his best to pretend he hadn’t just been moments away from calling home just so he could FaceTime his cats to relax. “Still here, still alive.”

“I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Vanjie locked the door behind him, and Brooke felt a flush his cheeks, fully taking in Vanjie’s appearance for the first time. His boyfriend was almost naked, his tan skin slick with tanning oil, his strong legs and his perfect stomach on full display in the filthiest little red speedo Brooke had ever seen.

“Yeah, sorry..” Brooke broke his gaze away, catching Vanjie’s eyes, the other clearly noticing his staring. “Nina had an emergency.” Brooke smiled, hoping his face didn’t betray the fact that he was obviously lying.

“She okay?” Vanjie’s voice was low and soft. “She need anything?”

Brooke felt his heart melt a little, Vanjies immediate concern for one of his best drag friends so sweet he almost forgot he was technically lying. “She’s fine.”

“Good.” Vanjie smiled. “Cause now I don’t need to feel nothing for doing this.”

Brooke couldn’t tear his eyes away, Vanjie walking painfully slowly towards him, his bare feet poised as he pranced, clearly putting on a show before he lowered himself onto Brooke’s lap, his arms snaking around his neck, Brooke’s mouth dry, his dick instantly hard and interested. Vanjie smelled like sun and sea, the thick scent of oil playing just beneath his natural sweat.

“We missed you at the pool.” Vanjie’s hand snaked into his hair, Brooke leaning back into the touch.

“Who’s we?”

“Oh so you a detective now bitch?” Vanjie laughed, his hand tightening, forcing Brooke’s face so close to his their lips were only inches apart. “Fine, it was just me. I missed you.”

Brooke wanted to leave forward, but Vanjies hand kept him in place. “Sorry.” Brooke felt like he couldn’t breathe, Vanjie controlling him so easily.

“You better be.”

Vanjie smiled, tightened his knees, digging into the side of Brooke’s thighs, their chests pressed together, Vanjie’s weight forcing Brooke to put his hands behind him, supporting them both, Brooke’s new shirt open just like the shop assistant had told him looked good right before he had left. Brooke almost whined, the sound on the tip of his tongue. Vanjie still hadn’t kissed him, and he felt like he was starving.

“I didn’t even have no one to put sunscreen on my tush.”

“Did you get burned?” Brooke tried to keep an even head, but he felt hot all over, Vanjie’s voice as low as it would go without him whispering, his skin burning from the suspense. Vanjie’s eyes were sparkling, satisfaction radiating from him as he had Brooke under his thumb. If he had been at the pool, would Vanjie have made him lotion him up? Brooke couldn’t help but imagine his palms sliding over Vanjie’s broad back, making sure every inch was protected. Brooke looked down, barely keeping a gulp in at the thought of pushing down Vanjie’s speedo, spreading the liquid there without being able to sneak a slick finger in between his cheeks, everyone around them-

“Why don’t you check for yourself?”

Brooke was snapped out of his fantasy, Vanjie’s voice pulling him back to the moment.

“Please.” Vanjie laughed, tipping them over, their lips crashing together and Brooke felt like he was flying even though they landed in the blankets, Vanjie already rocking against his stomach as they made out. The control of the kiss switched back and forth, back and forth until Vanjie bit Brooke, Brooke breaking the kiss with a groan, his lip sore, the pain causing a fizzle of pleasure to run through his body.  

“Let me see.” Brooke flipped them over, Vanjie still clinging to him, a hand on his lip and a final kiss turning Vanjie over so he was lying on his stomach. Vanjie’s back was lined with muscles, Brooke’s fingers on Vanjie’s hip tightening without a thought as he leaned down, gently kissing the skin, breathing in the sun, salt and water. Brooke hooked his thumb in Vanjie’s speedos, pulling them down and over the perfect globe of Vanjie’s ass, his kisses following as he sat back on his knees, watching his boyfriend’s body, Vanjie’s hips working against the mattress. Brooke landed a slap on Vanjie’s left cheek, right above his beauty mark, the smack loud in the room, Vanjie’s gasp even louder.

“What the fuc-”

Brooke laughed. “Seems like you pass inspection.” Brooke pushed his shorts down, his dick springing free before he lowered himself down, his chest pressed against Vanjies skin, Brooke’s weight pushing Vanjie into the mattress.

“What you do that for?”

“Didn’t you ask me to check if you were burned?”

“That don’t mean you can slap my ass.” Vanjie laughed, the sound slightly breathless.

“I ain’t no fucking prize at the counter fair.”

Brooke chuckled, considered if he should correct Vanjie since he had never heard of counter fairs, only county fairs, but it didn’t really matter. Brooke pressed a kiss behind Vanjie’s ear. “Of course not.”

“You bitc-“

Brooke moved his leg, hooking it on the outside of Vanjie’s hip.

“Hi.” Brooke smiled, his arms on either side of Vanjie’s head, the new bend of his knee giving him the leverage to push forward, his cock sliding between Vanjie’s cheeks. They hadn’t had time to prepare, but Brooke loved this too, the spontaneity and the intimacy of just rutting against each other.

“Fuuuuuck.” Vanjie moaned, his body going slack, and Brooke smiled, kissing Vanjie’s neck as he started thrusting. “Keep going.”

Brooke wasn’t much of a talker, but Vanjie was, filth spilling from his boyfriend’s lips as Brooke rutted against him in the firm, long and hard strokes he knew Vanjie preferred.

Brooke groaned, pressing his lips to Vanjie’s jaw as he whispered. “You’re so sexy.”

“Say it again!”

Brooke blushed, the demand in Vanjie’s voice making his entire body tingle. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

Vanjie was withering, his smaller body fighting to move, to do anything to the desire building inside of him, but it was a futile effort, Brooke easily holding him down, their bodies sliding together, slick with sweat, Vanjie’s hard nipples rubbing against the sheet. Brooke was in complete control, everything he did serving Vanjie in the best way he could, Vanjie’s desperation growing and growing.

“Please, Brock, I- Shit, I’m gonna, please-“

Brooke grabbed Vanjie’s hands, his body resting on his elbow and knee, forcing Vanjies hands above his head, stretching his arms out over his body, Vanjie crying out as he was pulled taut.

“Say it.”

“Please, I-.” Brooke smiled, Vanjie’s voice high and desperate.

“Ask nicely.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

Brooke bit down, his teeth closing on Vanjie’s neck, a hard thrust and the edge of pain pulling Vanjie over the edge as he came, soaking the sheets, his body shaking with it.

“There you go.”

“Please.”

Vanjie moaned, overstimulated and hot, but Brooke knew exactly what he wanted. He upped his speed, rutting against Vanjies body, whimpers of oversensitivity taking over as Brooke fucked hard and fast, his hips pistoling until he came too, a loud groan spilling from his lips as he emptied himself, hips only stopping after he had rode out the last of his aftershocks.

Brooke rolled over, taking Vanjie with him easily, the two settling away from the wet spot, their bodies intertwined, filthy, lazy open mouthed kisses traded over Vanjie’s shoulder as they laid together.

[aquawolfgirl]

53 reylo plz((:

53. “I’m flirting with you.”

All right, let’s see how this one turns out! I don’t have a clear idea for how this one will go, but let’s give it a shot!

-

Kylo Ren is, in a word, unattainable. 

He’s also a bit of an aloof asshole, but she can deal with that, for one night, if it means getting rid of those dreams she’s constantly having. 

The main problem is that Kylo Ren, her boss times perhaps twenty, is completely and utterly unreachable, untouchable, and unfuckable. 

“You’ve really got it, haven’t you?”

Rey groans around her bite of panini, glaring at Poe. “Don’t want to talk about it,” she tells him as they wait for Finn to return from the almost miles long salad bar line. 

Poe just smirks and leans forward, resting his chin in his hand. “He walks like he’s packing…”

“Hadn’t noticed.” Wrong. She’s noticed. She’s noticed a lot.

“And he’s broad as hell… I bet he’d cover you entirely, bracing himself above you as he-”

“Enough, Poe. The dreams are bad enough already.” And great, now she can only focus on the thought of the small mole she saw on his neck the day he had his shirt unbuttoned by one more button than usual. Damn her. Damn Kylo Ren.

She bites viciously into her sandwich, glaring at her coworker. “Say one more thing about him, and I am leaving the table.”

“Say one more thing about whom?”

“Our boss’s boss’s boss’s boss,” Poe explains, looking up at his boyfriend as Finn settles in with his salad. He immediately spears a tomato and steals it, slipping it between his lips. “Kylo,” he says, trying to talk around the fruit and failing miserably. 

“Sorry?” Finn asks, blinking in confusion.

“Can we just change the subject, please?”

“From his hot, hard body braced over yours? Sure. How about how his ass is always hugged to perfection in those tailored suits?” Poe suggests after chewing and swallowing. 

“Ah, Kylo.” Finn makes the connection as he grabs his fork. “I’m starting to think you need a therapist, Rey.”

“I don’t need a therapist. I need … I need to find someone else to think of,” she confesses, threading a hand into her hair and sighing as she leans on her hand. “It’s just like those sex dreams of someone hot on the subway or something, just your brain connecting a need to a random face. They’ll go away, I’m sure.” 

-

She said that three months ago, now. 

It’s not like she doesn’t have anyone else to imagine. There are a few guys who greet her every day who are cute. There’s Steve, with the nice smile and the soft-looking hair, always in a shade of blue to bring out his eyes. There’s Ethan, with the scruff always groomed nicely and the warm grin as he sees her on the way to the break room, right by her receptionist’s desk. There are a handful of others - more attainable others. More reasonable others. Others she could actually feasibly be with. 

But no. No, her brain keeps on filling in the blanks with broad shoulders and hard pecs and pale skin dotted with dark moles and soft, plush lips, and-

“Miss Jackson, I need to know if a man by the name of Hux has called.”

“Uh.” Yeah, great, smooth, Rey - drooling about the boss in front of said boss, who’s currently looking at her like she’s the village idiot, watching with dark amber eyes as she looks down at her call log, scanning quickly for ‘Hux’. “No, sir, it doesn’t look like he has.”

“Thank you.”

The words are sharp, and her back straightens at the power behind his tone as he walks right by her desk. Just for the hell of it, she leans out of her chair just a little, turning to watch him walk back to his office. 

His ass really does look good in those suit pants…

-

It’s a big affair, the company holiday party. Instead of something small and casual in the office, like they do for departments, the higher ups and most valuable assets rent out the ballroom of some swanky hotel downtown. 

Rey was surprised when she saw the invitation on her desk, the cream envelope shining ever so slightly with golden shimmer. And then she promptly started to panic, because fucking Kylo.

The dress she’s wearing is the first dress she’s worn in … well, years, if she’s honest. She always dresses nicely for the office, but she always dresses in pants, never skirts or dresses. It’s weird. She feels naked between her legs, even though she knows damn well she’s wearing a nice pair of lace boyshorts to keep the tight dress from revealing the line of her underwear.

“I see you got the invitation.”

Shit, shit, shit-

“I did. Was that your decision?” she asks, turning to see Kylo Ren. Kylo Ren in a fucking tuxedo, holding two glasses of champagne and offering one to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Finn and Poe dancing together, both in tuxes as well, their arms wrapped around each other as they slow dance to the live band. 

“It was. I would consider you a valuable asset. You greet our visitors and clients every day with that beautiful smile of yours.”

Beautiful smile of yours. 

She’s damned glad she didn’t just take a sip, because she’s more than sure she would have spat it right back out - and at him, no less. “I - um - thank you?”

His smile is soft. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him smile. It’s nice. It’s really nice. Much nicer than the smirks he wears in her dreams, his plush lips twisted as he pounds into her and oh, fuck, she should not be thinking about that while he’s staring right at her … 

She loosens her grip on her champagne, realizing that the glass was straining a little under her touch. “Thank you,” she says, more firmly, and more confidently. 

Oh, but to have those amber eyes look her up and down … She feels her mouth go dry. A sip of champagne does not help it in the slightest, and she almost chokes when his eyes meet hers again. “This is the first time I’ve seen you in a dress.” His voice is as soft as his smile. “You look lovely.”

Lovely. He thinks she looks lovely. When did this suddenly go from just wanting to fuck him to flushing deeply at the compliment, looking down at the bubbles in her champagne glass and saying, “You look sexy, too.”

She did not just say that. She did not just say that, oh, God, no - 

And then it reaches her. His laughter. Or at least she thinks it’s his laughter, she can’t tell, she’s staring into her champagne and praying that it suddenly becomes overflowing and can drown her in golden bubbles. 

There’s a finger on her chin, tilting her face up and oh, he’s a lot closer than he was…

“It’s okay,” Kylo says as his hand falls from her chin, in that soft voice of his, and for the first time Rey can see the warmth across his cheeks, the reddened skin between dark strands of hair, his ears pink as well. “I was flirting with you, Rey. Glad to know you feel the same.” Oh, he looks embarrassed ... Kylo Ren, CEO and business powerhouse, is embarrassed...

Feel the same.

“Did Poe tell you?” Rey demands, narrowing her eyes. 

“Did Poe tell me what?” His confusion sounds genuine. 

“Never mind. Want to dance?”

This isn’t the way she dreamt of his hand upon her waist, or her hand laced with his. She imagined her hands above her head, held by one of his as the other grasped her hip and fucked her hard enough that her cheap headboard banged against the wall. But she’ll take this, she thinks, looking up at him as she feels his hand gently rub at her back through the cranberry-colored velvet of her dress. She’ll definitely take this.

[thetravellingvagrant]

Day 1- Glasgow/Warsaw: In Which I Rob The Post Office Again

Long time readers of this blog- all two of them- will likely be acutely aware of phenomenon I have come to refer to as the 'first day curse'. For new readers- all none of them- this curse strikes, as you might expect, on the first day of my trip and, without exception, turns what should, for all intents and purposes, be the most exciting part of my journey into an unrelentingly shitty maelstrom of sadness and fuck. Be it getting dragged around a museum of the European Parliament while about six hours beyond my elastic limit of staying awake; getting turned away from my couchsurfing host's apartment for several hours, to fend off cold and blisters by a diminutive racist; accidentally committing a home invasion or just getting fucked time after time by bastard taxi drivers, who seem to make it their business to ruin my life, the FDC is ever-present and ever-shitty in this Vagrant life of mine.

But not this year. I was determined to swerve that bullshit however I could, this time; my journey to  Warsaw, the first stop of this trip, had been planned to a tee; I had managed to finagle an honest-to-God lift to the airport with my very helpful mother, nearly entirely eliminating the possibility of missing my flight, which I seem to manage to do, each and every time I fly by myself and perhaps, most important of all, as detailed in my last entry, I had already basically had my FDC this year, with the absolute shit-show of a day I had had, trying to get my passport sorted. Surely the travel-gods would see this as enough penance to let me pass both unhindered and unfucked into Vagrancy, for once. Just once, travel-gods. Be cool. Jesus.

I woke up bright and early, or at least early, in my own lovely bed for what will be the last time for almost a month and quickly set about mopping up the remaining tasks on my to-do list for the trip, including- but not limited to- faffing around trying to get the export settings right on Adobe's Premier Pro for a video I had been working on (which, let me tell you, is a lot of fun to do under pressure and with a strict time-limit), general packing of way more things than I need and having a series of increasingly severe mini-breakdowns.

While my flight didn't leave until 7:30pm, I regardless found myself with little time to spare in my flat, due to my having an unavoidable dentist's appointment (whose office, those of you who read the previous entry will know, is located close to my parent's house and is therefore some distance from my flat) at two in the afternoon.

By some miracle, I finished my to-do list, or at least the most important items on it in reasonably good time, or at least in enough time to still make it to the appointment if I hurried and caught a bus to the train station and so bid my cat a remarkably brief, though no less tearful than usual farewell

I won’t miss you.

And was quickly on my way to have my teeth all messed about. Hurrah.

Trips to the dentist, I'm aware, aren't usually regarded as a particularly pleasant thing, regardless, but holy shit, was this ever not a pleasant trip to the dentist. The appointment lasted a full hour (fifteen minutes longer than was scheduled, which was very helpful on a day when time was so limited for me) and consisted almost entirely of having the inflamed pulp inside one of my teeth jabbed at with a needle, which uh, yeah, isn't too great, let me tell you. The little cherry on top of the bakewell tart of shit that had been my orthodontic experience was the anaesthetic injection in my gums: it seemed that I was to spend the rest of my day with my face entirely numb in, apparently, every part of it except the bits that hurt. I was also told to expect my tooth to ache like buggery during my flight. So that was a treat.

A bit shaken and now behind schedule, I left the dentist to return to my parent's house briefly to pick up my passport, check in for my impending flight and to put some music and podcasts on my phone so as not to be terribly bored for the rest of my evening.

Ryanair do a lot of shit wrong- Like a lot- but I've got to say that being able to check in and get my boarding pass on my phone is a nice touch, or at least one that just about finally brings them level with other, better airlines in literally just that one aspect. Or...at least it should have been...

I entered my details into the app, triumphantly pressed 'continue' with an uncharacteristic arrogance for someone dealing with anything to do with Ryanair and...an error occurred. For god's sake, Ryanair, pull your shit together. I pressed the button again, my confidence slightly dented, but still in tact. Error. Umm.

“Okay...” I thought, “so the app's not working. I suppose I can always go and physically print the passes like some fucking caveman”.

I loaded the Ryanair website, my confidence now all but entirely replaced with pure vexation and...it wasn't there. Not my boarding pass- the website. It was down for maintenance and apparently had been for some time- days in fact. Indeed with a quick Google, I learned that it was national (albeit quite tabloidy) news that this website was down. People physically couldn't check in for their flights and were being stung for £55 for it when they arrived at the airport because of it, while Ryanair, in an ostrichian level display of burying their heads in the sand were maintaining through all this that the website was up, running and fully functional despite clear empirical evidence to the contrary.

I checked my phone. I needed to leave; I still had to pick up a travel money card at the post office and get some food before I headed to the airport and had no more time to spare, angrily pressing 'continue' over and over again, sighing a little louder each time it didn't work.

My mother and I bundled ourselves and my luggage into her car and drove quickly to a nearby town. I darted off into the post office for my card and she into Morrisons to buy some very delicious food for me, which was very nice of her, even if I was in far too bad a mood to properly acknowledge it at the time.

I had realised, some time prior, that I had also managed to forget my gloves. Given that I'd be travelling to basically Russia in the winter and realising that historically that can go poorly, I was understandably a little worried about this. It came as a genuinely nice surprise then to find that the post office sold nice gloves at he very reasonable price of £1.50 a pair. I grabbed two sets (for layering purposes) and headed to the till. I obtained my travel money card fairly effortlessly (#humblebrag) and left with it and my gloves in hand. So to speak. Wait, shit- I had been so wrapped up in getting the card and dwelling on the unbelievable amount of garbage that had been slopped on top of me throughout the day that I had actually forgotten to pay for not one, but two pairs of gloves, thereby robbing the post office for the second time in a week. Charles Bronson got life for that so I'm lucky to have gotten away with it.  Anyway, sorry post office. Again...

Travel money card, several pairs of stolen gloves and some very delicious food now obtained, my mother and I set off, finally, to Edinburgh airport. As we drove, I continued mashing the Ryanair app, desperately looking for signs of life, my already critically low optimism dwindling even further as I did. On the verge of giving up, the two hour cut off point for obtaining boarding passes looming within mere minutes, the app spluttered up all the water it had swallowed in that devastating surfing accident and took a deep, ragged breath. It wasn't much and being clinically dead for as long as it was, only to come back to life would clearly lead to massive brain damage, but that was all I needed to get my foot in the door and my grubby mitts on my boarding pass. I was overjoyed, though, and I've said this before of Easyjet, when you're made this happy by a service being offered simply working as advertised, that really does speak poorly of how high the bar is set for your company...

We ended up arriving at Edinburgh airport in genuinely quite good time, which was...surprising, considering how my day had been going, to say the least. My mother and I shared a tearful goodbye or I'm sure we at least would have done, if she wasn't so concerned about the cost of her stay in the drop-off zone going up the longer she stayed there and with a single punch on the arm in lieu of a hug, I was off.

I navigated the airport security with ease for once, with my bag and genitals left unfondled by surly old security guards and sat down in the duty-free costa with some time to spare. Despite having a bag of, and I really must stress this, like crazy delicious food with me, I decided to treat myself to a warm panini and a hot chocolate as due to a combination of needing to rush in the morning and having to wait after dental work in the afternoon, I hadn't yet eaten. As I chewed, using only the right side of my mouth, through my pigs-under-blanket panini and sipped my a-little-too-hot hot chocolate, I reflected. It seemed that the first day curse had regardless struck me once more, despite my best efforts to the contrary as, to be totally honest, I had had a pretty cack day. Still, at least I wasn't going to almost miss my flight, for once.

Oh, right, shit, my flight...

I looked at the time- the gate was closing. I'd spent too long reflecting like some genius prilosopher might... I pushed the rest of the panini into my already overstuffed mouth and forced it down with the remainder of my drink, burning my tongue quite badly in the process (probably considerably less like a genus philosopher might...) and sped off towards the gate. I don't know how I managed to get myself into this situation, but I now found myself in not insubstantial danger of missing my flight, despite having literally been inside the airport for the past hour and a half.

I approached my gate doing that kind of half-walk-half-trot thing that people do when they're in a hurry, but are still unwilling to go full-run.

“Are you going to Warsaw?!” a flight attendant, standing by the gate shouted to me, from some distance away

“Uh, yeah!” I replied, breathlessly.

Even as far apart as we were, I could tell that her face wore a look of mixed shock and pity

“...You'll have to hurry, then, they're getting ready to take off!”

I went full run. I charged through the gate and onto the plane as quickly as I could, stored my probably slightly too large bit of luggage in the overhead lockers (incidentally, being very, very late for a flight is a great way to get the attendants to conveniently forget to check the size of your bag) and sat down, sweating, dishevelled and manic to the demonstrable disappointment of my new seat-neighbour. I honestly don't blame him.

After an uncharacteristically pleasant flight, barring some minor air-pressure-related toothache, I was spat out into Warsaw Modlin airport and found myself almost immediately on a bus to the city centre. I'm not quite sure how I managed this, as by this point it was around 11:30 at night, I was still in pain, hadn't slept particularly well the previous night and was, by now, flagging badly, but I assume it was some kind of lovely witchcraft. Thanks, lovely witchcraft.

Once in Warsaw, proper, I quickly darted to the central station, which, through my very careful planning both my bus stop and hostel were adjacent to. Despite it pushing midnight, the station was still open and, although all I really wanted to do was go to bed, I thought it prudent to buy my ticket for tomorrow's early morning train journey to Belarus as soon as possible. I took my place in the queue, or at least what looked like a queue. The woman behind the counter appeared to be reading some kind of document on her computer; a strange thing to do, I thought, with a line of seven or so people, steadily climbing in number, waiting specifically for her attention. She continued to read this document and sip her coffee for the next forty minutes or so. It was dangerously close to 1:00am and I was dangerously close to putting the entire idea of getting a ticket before morning in a big flaming bin before she deigned to start actually doing her job and serving people again. Albeit slowly. I bumbled through buying my ticket in the most 'me' way possible (awkwardly, quietly and tinged with rage) and left for my hostel, head shaking in disbelief and body aching for sleep.

After a scant ten minute walk through the pervasively freezing Polish night, I had arrived. The door had been left ajar for me by the night-receptionist, who greeted me with a nod. I nodded back, somehow accidentally yanking the door closed in front of myself in the process. Great. Good start. I had managed to lock myself out of the hostel before even getting inside. With an audible sigh, even through the locked door, the receptionist forced herself out of her chair to re-open it for me. I apologised as I stepped inside. She started back at me blankly, apparently not speaking enough English to respond. She pointed to a clipboard sitting on her desk; on it were written the names of everyone checking in that night. I pointed to my own name and she led me to my room.

As she opened the door I was hit by an ungodly stench; a sickly sweet combination of feet, body odour and death. I wretched as quietly as my body would allow me to, unsure whether to tough it out and try to get used to the smell or just hold my breath all night.

The receptionist flicked the light on. An audible groan came from one of the bunks as the more irritable of my roommates was woken up by this. The receptionist pointed me to my bed and left. It was the bunk above the angry man. In a room of six beds, only three of which were occupied, including mine, it seemed that they had opted to put us as close to one another as we could physically fucking get, without sharing a bunk, which is honestly exactly what everyone wants in a hostel, anyway, so good show.

Not wanting to be 'that guy', I flicked the light off and, as quietly as I could, put my stuff away. I was hungry again, by this point and so decided to go and sit in the hostel's kitchen and eat some of my, as yet untouched, unbelievably delicious Morrisons swag. I grabbed my bag and headed out into the hostel's halls, quickly realising that there was no kitchen or indeed dining area of any kind. There was a toilet that stank perpeptually and very strongly of shit and a receptionist whose disdain for me seemed to only grow each time she laid eyes on me, but no kitchen. Unwilling to rustle sandwich containers and crisp packets on the top bunk of a sleeping man who genuinely may have hated me, I put the idea in a big flaming bin and opted to just go to bed, having eaten once and drank little more than a hot chocolate throughout the entire day.

I re-entered the bedroom as stealthily as possible, given the sleep I had had and realised all too quickly that the bed hadn't actually been made. They expected me to do that for myself, which, let's be totally honest here a) is among the last things I want to do when I'm exhausted and physically fatigued from travelling, b)is like super, super disruptive to the other people in the room and c) probably should already have been done before my arrival, right? I mean that's like hospitality 101.

With little recourse but to do it myself, though, I did just that. Shockingly, I did not manage to do it particularly quietly and even more shockingly than that, Mr. Angry didn't seem to appreciate my inability to noiselessly prepare my own bed at past-one-in-the-morning.

After some bumbling around with sheets, my bed was ready, or as ready as I could be bothered making it. I grabbed the ladder to my bunk and hoisted myself up onto it. The entire bed shook, unsecured bits of metal rattled against one another and the entire thing bent considerably on its axis. I don't know if you've seen the viral video of several hundred squeaky rubber chickens being pushed down on all at once, which made the rounds a year or two ago, but that was uncannily what it sounded like, except louder, deeper and sadder. I was one rung up the ladder.

Out of options, there was little I could do but push on- one thousand terrified chickens screaming in pain with every step, until finally I was in my bunk. The noise didn't abate, even then, ringing out, entirely undampened with every tiny movement I made, but at least the bed had stopped rocking back and forth like a tiny, shitty, uncomfortable boat.

Once actually in my bunk, the room's other issues began to make themselves apparent. While the bed did have barriers on the far side from the wall, these barriers were similarly flimsy to the rest of the structure and were so insignificant and strangely placed so as to do literally nothing to stop all my stuff falling off the bed during the night. The side of the bed pressed against the wall had no barriers whatsoever, instead opting for the 'sheer drop' approach, which obviously wouldn't have been an issue had it not been for the bed being positioned approximately a foot and a half away from the wall for absolutely no good reason. As it stood, it was fairly likely that my phone would fall off one side of the bed during the night and my body the other. My best efforts to counteract this came in the form of neatly folding my trousers and placing them under my pillow, with my phone nestled in the back pocket: in this way it was unlikely to be knocked to the floor in the night and I could still hear my alarm, even with earplugs in. And let me tell you, boy howdy did I ever need earplugs. Mr. Angry wasn't my only roommate- I was sharing with one other person as well. Actually, I say person, but I never did get a very good look at them and honestly, from the noises they were making during the night, you could have been forgiven for thinking that what I was actually bunking down with was a pig being butchered with a chainsaw. The noise was honestly inhuman; wet, droning slurps and gurgles emanated constantly from the far side of the room and cut straight to my core, regardless of how deep I pushed my lovely and usually very effective gummy earplugs into my terrible, broken brainbox. Combined with my squeaking chicken bed and that fucking smell, it was honestly a bit like going to sleep in an abattoir. An abattoir with no power outlets.

How's that for a Trip Advisor review?

[dustedmagazine]

2016/2020: Patrick Masterson

If what you came to read was my 2020 wrapped, here: Yves Tumor’s Heaven to a Tortured Mind was my favorite album. HAAi’s Put Your Head Above the Parakeets was my favorite EP. Oleksandr Yurchenko and Svitlana Nianio’s Lichy Do Sta Symphony No. 1 was my favorite reissue. Overmono’s take on Rosalía’s “A Palé” was my favorite remix. Protomartyr’s “Processed by the Boys” was my favorite video. Equiknoxx’s Vinyl Factory set was my favorite mix. Lil Baby’s “The Bigger Picture” was song of the summer. The best show I saw was SuperKnova at Chicago’s Sleeping Village in February. My Spotify account doesn’t reflect any of this.

What follows is an unused essay for The Believer’s Distancing series that Dusted alumnus Daniel Levin-Becker ran for most of 2020. The idea behind the column was to write something personal about an album that took you to a space away from quarantine’s confines. I’d intended it as a kind of spiritual companion or prequel to the essay of mine that ran in May, but I think it functions as an endnote for this year just as much as it would’ve for 2016, when I sat out Dusted’s year-end features. Call it making up for lost time.

As I get older, I’m often reminded that music doesn’t save and it doesn’t really heal the way I once thought it could — but it does let you feel, which is to say it lets you know you’re alive. In a year where government ineptitude and personal irresponsibility actively worked against that, music took on added importance for its normality. Artists kept releasing. I kept listening. The ritual remained. I don’t know what 2021 brings the same way I didn’t know what 2017 had in store, but I do know what I’ll be doing until my ears finally fail me. Over my dead body is right. Thanks for reading.

- - -

Distancing #XX: Rojus (Designed to Dance)

Hitler, man. Fucking unbelievable.

I laugh at the thought, leaned back and following the shadow of an umbrella to shield my sunburned skin from further exposure on the main floor of Larcomar, an open-air mall carved into Lima’s Pacific cliffside, watching paragliders take off at regular intervals and nursing a bottle of Cusqueña in the final idle hours of my trip down here. My youngest brother is across the table, sunglasses on, shaking his head, then nodding like the Alonzo Mourning gif as he nurses his own: Yeah, we did do this, didn’t we. We met Hitler in Peru.

Well, sort of. That’s how I’m going to lead off the story of what I did for Christmas 2016, anyway. The truth is less sordid, no zombies: We’d been walking aimlessly the evening before around Miraflores, a neighborhood that never seemed to end and stopped at the sandwich shop La Lucha. I ordered a jamon y queso (relearning Spanish on the fly, needless to say, has its limits) and was rung up by Wilson, a very ordinary name, and served up by Jitler, which… I don’t know, maybe I’m the only person in line who gave it a second thought, but say that with a Spanish accent and it sure seems like something you, as a parent with even a vague awareness of the last 100 years on earth, wouldn’t risk naming your kid unless you were looking to prompt a lot of questions already answered by your kid’s name. Right? No fucking way? Unbelievable.

I tip the bottle back and think over how that hasn’t even been the best part of this trip. The best part, truly, is the bread. If I asked my friends to name three things they know about Peru, they’d say Machu Picchu or the Incas, probably ceviche, maybe coffee or pisco sours. They aren’t wrong, but there’s a more right answer: I haven’t had bad bread the entire time I’ve been in this country. From paninis to pizzas to hot dog rolls (what can I say, I panicked staring down a sizable menu and a dog just sounded right in the moment), every loaf or slice or roll has smelled tremendous and tasted better. I’m sure of it now: There really is something to breadmaking by the sea, as any defender of a New York bagel will tell you.

Is Peru the only country I’ve never eaten bad bread in? I take another sip, can’t remember.

On the other hand, why is every napkin here half-sized and single ply? It feels like you have to fight for each perforation of napkin no matter the buttery goodness of your bread. Maybe paper is just valued differently or people are neater here, but I’m sure of this, too: There has to be a reason the same way there’s a reason the bread is good and the straws are so big and the restaurant and bar hours are strange and only one guy does all the Liga 1 commentary and you can’t check into a flight until three hours before, but security for it closes two hours before and the gate is 15 minutes before. I have a lot more than Conversation in the Cathedral to read when I get back, I think. There’s a lot to be explained.

For example, what I’m even doing in Peru for Christmas to begin with. It started as a joke, I’ll tell people: I got hired in May for a job after being unemployed for seven of the previous 13 months. It took nine years, but this was finally the position I’d wanted since I graduated, the role I felt I was put on this planet to fulfill, and in this aspect of my life at least, I was relieved. My friend had planned a New Year’s Eve wedding and the logistics of bumming around friends’ couches or staying at my parents’ house for more than a week didn’t quite add up, so I told my brother, wouldn’t it be funny to go somewhere weird for Christmas instead? I’ve never been to Calgary or Albuquerque or Little Rock. Then it was Cuba, then Argentina, then Peru — hey, my brother says, I’ve got a friend who knows the country and is all about us going down there.

We check the flights. It’s laughably affordable for us both.

Like a lot of my trips in recent years, then, the logistics escalate quickly from theoretical to real: I play around with dates, times, connecting flights and strange airports in an effort to game the system and get a little bit extra trimmed off the cost. We commit to plane tickets, a hotel, itineraries. He gets phone numbers of people his friend knows down there. Where in Newark do you want to meet up before the flight? How far can we go once we’ve arrived? Is there anything we collectively need to see? Isn’t this dumb and delightful? And that’s it, crucial questions answered, pieces in place: I’m visiting Lima.

Everyone should travel like that, I think, watching another paraglider set off. In one way, I’m thinking about all the ridiculous pieces it took to put me here. In another, though, my mind is as far away as we are from Chicago. I’m stalling, trying not to think about what’s happened back home. Two weeks before, I was in Charlotte enduring grade school friends’ condolences like it was a funeral instead of the wedding it actually was. “I heard about what happened.” “I’m really sorry to hear about you and.” “I was looking forward to finally.” And so on. For someone who usually has so much to gab about, I still haven’t worked out how to say what I’m really feeling. It’s crushing and confusing when you think you’ve found the most powerful relationship in your life and effortlessly reached a kind of platonic ideal, the kind of intimacy most people go their whole lives not knowing — and then, slowly, you find it’s less true than you imagined, find something more powerful. Nothing can prepare you for what you can’t ignore. I have no idea what institutional oppression is like and I’ve done nothing but benefit from a system designed to serve me, so I feel too guilty to admit to anyone I’m an emotional wreck when their grandparents are dying and their worlds are changing and we’ve just elected a self-important cartoon for president, but there is always a “but” with stuff like this. I remember the bar in the hours before I left for Newark where I was tired and thirsty and tired of being thirsty, the train ride to O’Hare, pausing to look back before I passed on through security. There is always a reason.

All of that was the old world, I think to myself. This, though? This right here? This is the new. I think back to the intramural soccer matches we watched after downing the sandwiches and moving on; for all we know, we might’ve been watching a fourth division game out there. Beautiful palm trees, incredible summer weather, pull-ups on the beach, pisco sours with the hotel staff as a transgender game show host soundtracked our Christmas countdown, Brenda and Renzo and Callao and Christmas day turkey with a family I didn’t know and bubblegum soda and Barranco beer and Cerro San Cristobal and cherimoya slushies. Typhoon evacuation signs. The modern art museum. Lanes and turn signals as suggestions. Far away clears my head.

I know what I’m doing even when I don’t always know I know what I’m doing and God has that gotten me in some trouble, but I know what I’m weak for and I know what my strengths are and I think I know how to play it better yet. This is where I start to get myself correct, stop being my own worst enemy. I have a plan. I’m going to straighten things out and get my mind and life in order and all this pent up fear, this sadness and disappointment and self-defeating anxiety, is going to show itself out. I exhale in relief at the anticipation of it: Yes, 2016 was a bad year, maybe my worst, a year I never want to go through again — but 2017? No, I can feel it as “Blush” rolls around in my head and I watch another paraglider set off from the cliff and out toward the sun, the sea: 2017’s going to be a good year. A really good year.

Hitler. Fucking unbelievable. I take another sip and laugh again. What do you think, I say, one more and then we go? Rory nods. One more.

Rojus (Designed To Dance) by LEON VYNEHALL

[felinenthusiast]

1,2,5,6, 20-30

Oh boy that’s a lot! But Ty 💕

1. Do you have a chum handle? What does it mean?

I don’t actually! But I have my trollsona who I’ll probably make one for at some point which would be mine by extension since she’s just be but grey with nicer hair pfh

2. Is your username homestuck related/have you had one hs related?

Hmmmm I WONDER.

I mean obviously I have the Roxy Lalonde branding™

Since this account it’s always been HS related (specifically to Roxy), I went rox-lal to rox-lalonde and then the person with the roxylalondes URL was nice enough to give it to me!!!

5. Are you “kin” with any characters or commonly called a character?

Nah I’m not kin, though I do relate to Roxy and Terezi, but I just don’t feel that kind of connection I feel ‘kin’ denotes (but ofc I don’t dislike kin, you guys are sweet) and ye I’ve been called Roxy before which I’m cool with since it’s My Brand™

6. God Tier?

Knight of Heart 💗

I’ve thought that for a while, and when the canon quiz came out it was like 'Yeah you’re heart for sure’

20. Tell us how homestuck has effected you in real life?

Hmm well it made my friends annoyed at me briefly when I first go in to it! Fkjsjdn but they’re not like that anymore don’t worry my friends who I actually keep close nowadays aren’t a-holes.

Honestly while HS is super important to me I can’t pinpoint much 'affected me in real life’ things! I have cosplayed and met other HSs irl briefly which was rlly cool!

21. Have you met anyone through homestuck?

Yeah ppl on Tumblr and a lot of my video editor friends 💕

22. Have you left the fandom before?

Nope! I’m afraid the fandom’s stuck with me.

23. How many times have you read through it?

Hmmmm 3? I think? I’ve tried to reread it a bit more than that but have ended up stopping. I haven’t read it through in a while, actually, maybe when I’m less busy I’ll go for another reread!

24. Did you ever skip intermissions/dialog/animations?

NOPE. I didn’t rlly understand the midnight crew intermission the first time but I didn’t skip it even if I was confused.

25. Opinions on the fandom?

Mostly a nice place nowadays! There’s still some areas I’m not fond of but for the most part I think despite the reputation homestucks had gained over the years, the current fandom is very pleasant?

26. Opinions on the comic?

Ilove it sm and there will never be anything like it again!!!

Could have had a better ending, I honestly think just adding a walk around where you can change characters and talk to ppl before act 8 would have improved shit sm! But if Hussie is rlly serious abt a possible epilogue, I think that could iron out a lot of my issues

27. Do you favor the trolls, humans, or carapaces?

TROLLS! like not all of them but I do just enjoy the alternia alien shit! Tho I do love the humans (esp Lalondes) and also the carapaces (the midnight crew cracks me up)

28. Favorite moment of all of homestuck?

FUCK! Uhh the Terezi and Vriska moments in [S] remember??? ❤️💓💔💕💖💗💞❣️💝💟

29. Least favorite moment of all of homestuck?

The whole Gamzee and Terezi kismesistude arc honestly! But more specifically on lofaf when he hurts her and also kills karkat and game over ):

30. Tell us a homestuck based story.

Okay, I have 2 short ones, cus I don’t have any long funny ones, and now they probably sound made up but I swear these are true

Once while I was in Terezi cosplay, in the middle of a con, I was yknow just eating my panini in Costa for lunch and a server came up next to me and whispered 'Vriska was better’ I was fucking reeling. I turned around and was like, 'i love both Scourge sisters equally!!!’

Another time at dnd club (yes, I have great hobbies!) I heard someone mention taz, which yknow the venn diagram for fans of it and homestuck is a circle!! Anyways someone mentioned taz and I was like 'hhhello’ and they just said to me, 'of course you like taz, you’re wearing a homestuck hoodie’ and I was just embarrassed at how predictable I was.

Both these stories give off similar energy fjdk

[sassmill]

answer ALL those questions BIH 1-97 or however many there are

Great panini Michelle... every damn time...1. Would you have sex with the last person you text messaged?Uhhhhhhhh yeah2. You talked to an ex today, correct?Idk I guess technically?3. Have you taken someones virginity?Lmao nope4. Is trust a big issue for you?YEAH WHOO BOY YEAH I have a lot of issues and trust is a huge one5. Did you hang out with the person you like recently?Yes yup I definitely did. She told me I looked pretty and it was the first time I've ever been sure she was flirting with me. 6. What are you excited for?Going back to school holy shit. I've had a countdown going. I move back in at the end of the month. I can't fuckening wait. 7. What happened tonight?I told myself I was going to shower and clean my room but instead I'm sat here watching dan and Phil games videos?8. Do you think it’s disgusting when girls get really wasted?I don't think it's disgusting I just worry for their safety. I'm the mom friend that takes care of the lightweights. 9. Is confidence cute?Hell yeah10. What is the last beverage you had?Brisk iced tea with lemon 11. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust?I wanna say like three. I don't have an exact count because I've managed to direct my daily life to have very few males and I can only think of three men I regularly interact with. 12. Do you own a pair of skinny jeans?Yeah and my fuckin thighs are wearing a HOLE IN THEM which means I need to order a new pair but they're EXPENSIVE and I hate CAPITALISM 13. What are you gonna do Saturday night?That's a good fucking question. I have nothing planned, nothing to do within walking distance, and no license. Probably masturbate in all honesty. 14. What are you going to spend money on next?Well I just spent like $150 on an old navy order today so probably not clothes Oh you know what I need a new bookbag so probably that. IKEA has some good ones. 15. Are you going out with the last person you kissed?The only person I've kissed was for a scene in acting class so no. I had a really elaborate dream the other night where I was kissing my crush but alas also no. 16. Do you think you’ll change in the next 3 months?Oh for sure. 17. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything?Honestly???? Reese. 18. The last time you felt broken?This is more or less a weekly to daily occurrence but the most intense instance I can recall was Saturday night at my cousin's wedding! Being most likely the only gay person out of a group of 300 people made up of mostly married couples with children was absolutely horrific because as soon as one cousin gets married the aunts start placing bets on who's next and each time I'm closer to the top of the list. Combine that with varied intrusive thoughts and you've got a lovely shitstorm of self loathing!!!19. Have you had sex today?Not ever m'dude20. Are you starting to realize anything?That if I want to be less anxious when shopping for clothing, I need to only shop at places that actually cater to my body type aka I've just accepted that I have a mom body and will always look better in well made and sort of pricey old navy clothes over cheap shitty forever 21 clothes. 21. Are you in a good mood?I'm kind of eh. All I've done today is watch the MSNBC news cycle for hours on end and that was really depressing and anxiety inducing but I've isolated myself in my room for a bit since then and had a nice salami sandwich so I've mellowed. 22. Would you ever want to swim with sharks?Hell yeah. Sharks are nowhere as violent as media portrays them and need to be protected like any other species. Also I went to the aquarium yesterday. 23. Are your eyes the same color as your dad’s?Yes between my parents I got pretty much all of my father's genetics and it's really funny. 24. What do you want right this second?Someone to cuddle with because I realized when I was staying at a hotel that I literally can't sleep unless I'm holding something and every single night my body pillow is a little bit more pathetic. 25. What would you say if the person you love/like kissed another girl/boy?Fuckin jokes on you she's married 26. Is your current hair color your natural hair color?Technically no. I mean I am a natural blonde but currently I am several shades blonder because my natural shade is on the darker end of the blonde spectrum and I'm so pale that I need to lighten and warm it up from time to time so I don't look like a less stylish Addams child. 27. Would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh?That's a hard fuckin pass m828. What was the last thing that made you laugh?I answered this before but I've laughed again since then soS A N D R A29. Do you really, truly miss someone right now?Yes. 30. Does everyone deserve a second chance?Yes, as long as they are actually willing to modify their behavior/habits/what have you. Life is a learning curve. I believe in third chances too, under the same conditions. At some point, however, you have to acknowledge that some people just will not change and it isn't worth the energy you're investing to try and force it. Then it's time to cut bitches off lmao. 31. Honestly, do you hate the last boy you were talking to?My brother is walking a fine line right now. He's a shit head but I don't hate him. 32. Does the person you have feelings for right now, know you do?I think so. 33. Are you one of those people who never drinks soda?Cherry Pepsi flows through my veins. 34. Listening to?I've honestly been listening to the original London cast recording of The Witches of Eastwick the musical on repeat for like a week? That and the original cast recording of Sunset Boulevard. Which reminds me, I downloaded Dangerous Liaisons...35. Do you ever write in pencil anymore?Yeah... do people like... stop writing in pencil at some point? Y'all hate erasers????36. Do you know where the last person you kissed is?Probably somewhere in Pennsylvania where I left her. 37. Do you believe in love at first sight?Maybe chemistry at first sight? I think you have to know a person before you can love them. Chemistry doesn't have to be romantic either, I think it's just a significant reaction. I'm a fan of hate to lover arcs in fiction. Cough cough swan queen. 38. Who did you last call?Probably my brother to tell him to preheat the oven. 39. Who was the last person you danced with?My aunt when she was trying to convince me not to leave the wedding reception even though I was dead on my feet and dissociating so hard I felt like I wasn't in my body40. Why did you kiss the last person you kissed?Because that's how Phyllis Nagy wrote the script. 41. When was the last time you ate a cupcake?The wedding reception. It didn't have frosting because my brother brought me a fucking cupcake without frosting. 42. Did you hug/kiss one of your parents today?No43. Ever embarrass yourself in front of a crush?Countless times! I'm strong but clumsy so when she asks me to move things for her it's like a 50/50 chance I'll drop it. She never makes fun of me though. 44. Do you tan in the nude?I don't tan period because I am pasty and extremely at risk for skin cancer *finger guns*45. If you could, would you take back your last kiss?If by take back you mean literally take it back by purchasing the full play to read it 46. Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night?I usually do47. Who was the last person to call you?Idk probably my dad to tell me to preheat the oven. 48. Do you sing in the shower?Am I even showering if I'm not singing49. Do you dance in the car?I'm generally pretty cramped in most cars so no50. Ever used a bow and arrow?Yes! I'm a pretty decent archer. 51. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?Probably my headshots that I got when I was doing my dance photo shoot senior year. 52. Do you think musicals are cheesy?I'm a theatre major what fucking kind of question is this. In this house we respect triple threats. And have a healthy fear of the wrath of patti lupone 53. Is Christmas stressful?Half my family is EXTREMELY Roman Catholic and a quarter is Jewish so if it's not stressful it's definitely complicated 54. Ever eat a pierogi?Fuck yes holy shit we had a cooking unit at camp and they'd make staff lunch and they made pierogies from scratch like dough potatoes and all and I swear I nutted. 55. Favorite type of fruit pie?Lemon meringue. Oh fuck elies mom made such good pie last year. 56. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?Forensic examiner! I wanted to do autopsies! Like deadass I wanted to be Doctor Jan Garavaglia from the discovery channel. Also retrospectively definitely had a crush on her. That was when I was in like elementary school though. In middle school I wanted nothing more than to be an Imagineer and design attractions for Disney. 57. Do you believe in ghosts?I'm from New England. Next question. 58. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?Yeah holy shit I see stuff from my dreams a lot. 59. Take a vitamin daily?These strawberry flavored fuckers for hair skin and nails they're so good!60. Wear slippers?Not so much at home but at school I practically live in them because our dorm is always disgusting 61. Wear a bath robe?Yes I have a super fluffy long one62. What do you wear to bed?Ideally nothing but I have to wear clothes because my room gets too hot to sleep with the door shut so normally a t shirt and underwear and then I keep shorts or sweatpants by my bed so I can put them on quickly if I have to leave my room. Plus I have a roommate at school so no naked napping there either. 63. First concert?Probably one of the free concerts Eight to the Bar used to do in my mom's hometown64. Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart?Target I'm a loyal Pinterest mom65. Nike or Adidas?Neither. Whatever is on clearance at Kohls. 66. Cheetos Or Fritos?Cheetos. I'm not a fucking heathen. 67. Peanuts or Sunflower seeds?No. Cashews. 68. Favorite Taylor Swift song?LOVE STORY (The og country version) IS THE REALEST BOP IVE EVER HEARD69. Ever take dance lessons?Hahaha only 16 years of them70. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?Something creative. Strongly probably theatre related. 71. Can you curl your tongue?Yeah72. Ever won a spelling bee?No but I performed a song from The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee73. Have you ever cried because you were so happy?Short answer yes. Long answer: please see my post on Tired Thesbian about Indecent directed by Rebecca Taichman and written by Paula Vogel 74. What is your favorite book?To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf75. Do you study better with or without music?With, but it has to be instrumental. I really like film scores; Cracks, The Hours, and the Mildred Pierce miniseries are my favorites. Honorable mention for Carol. 76. Regularly burn incense?Not allowed to. 77. Ever been in love?Yes. 78. Who would you like to see in concert?Fleetwood Mac/Stevie, Celtic Woman, Dolly Parton, Florence + The Machine. That's the non showtune half of my music taste. Isn't it an unsettling combination. 79. What was the last concert you saw?I don't really go to music concerts but I went to the so you think you can dance tour a couple years ago. 80. Hot tea or cold tea?Porque no los dos 81. Tea or coffee?Porque no los dos 82. Favorite type of cookie?I'm a slut for shortbread but that's more of a biscuit soooooo Oreos. 83. Can you swim well?I've never drowned 84. Can you hold your breath without holding your nose?People can't do that?85. Are you patient?I guess so86. DJ or band, at a wedding?Dj BRUH 87. Ever won a contest?I won a writing contest in eighth grade!88. Ever have plastic surgery?No but I'd love to get some for various reasons. And when it comes down to it, we really shouldn't judge others cosmetic choices be they hair color or plastic surgery. Insert Dolly Parton. 89. Which are better black or green olives?Olives are evil and I was once locked out of my dorm room over this argument90. Opinions on sex before marriage?Holy fuck heterosexual culture is wild isn't it91. Best room for a fireplace?Already answered 92. Do you want to get married?Maybe not married but certainly in a committed long term relationship. To quote Lily Tomlin, I'm not particularly keen on imitating heterosexuals. Holy fuvk that took like a full hour

[nikadd]

thanks to @demizouie for tagging me in this like 3 weeks ago and i completely forgot about it whoops

1. if you were able to travel the world, where would you go first? i’d go on a tour around europe so to hit as many places as possible, but also to new zealand and would also love to visit kyrgyzstan

2. do you prefer driving or being the passenger? i don’t drive nor do i want to, and shotgun place is perfect bc you get the same views as the driver but with less Anxiety

3. what is your dream job? why? film producer/director so i can create things i love and share with other people!!!

4. do you have a favorite or go-to outfit? usually it’s whatever fell out of my closet but i really love this one red jacket/sweatshirt(?) i have

5. what would amortentia smell like to you? petrichor, fresh dough, jasmine

6. what web browser do you prefer? chrome

7. tell me about your dream house. oooooh lots of open spaces, big windows, cozy sofas and windowsills, walls of bookshelves, a huge bath, somewhere where it feels like you are in your own world while still being in the middle of a big city

8. do you have any pets? what are their names? not currently, but used to have a cat named Masha and two hamsters, Sonya and Borya

9. describe your ideal date (platonic or romantic). OHOHOHOOHOHHOHOHOHHO ok so a romantic date at an amusement park would be gr8

10. what is your favorite quality in a person? least favorite? when they get really excited about something and their whole being lights up!!! when they ignore me

11. do you have any hobbies? what are they? i like writing poetry and songs, and also researching stuff about tropes

12. Fave book series? probably harry potter. but i also love the russian parody of it called tanya grotter and the spin off called mefodii buslayev

13. Fave name? If that’s a thing... hmmmmm i like the name Alexis and Diana

14. Most recently watched movie and your opinion on it? wonder woman!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! amazing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

15. Most recently added song to your playlist? devil in disguise by opia

16. Fave/best meme? all of the memes that came from vine, take a fucking sip babes, any memes that get combined... tag yourself meme is also a Good

17. Weird fact/story you read or heard of? it snowed a couple of days ago in moscow

18. A memory that makes you feel good? dramafest in my freshman year

19. A quote. Any quote. “FOXFIRE NEVER SAYS NEVER” - Joyce Carol Oates, Foxfire: Confessions of a Girl Gang

20. Preferred subject or topic in school/uni? i really like math!!!!! and next year in college i will be taking a freshman writing seminar about gay subtext in movies

21. Preferred hair color? If any. on me, natural. on other people, in terms of me being attracted to that person, i generally go for people with dark hair, but for whatever reason whenever someone likes me, they are blonde.

22. Something you are looking forward to in the near future? graduating week from today!!!!

23. beach or mountains? beach

24. space or ocean? space

25. what’s your worst nervous habit? overthinking ha

26. who’s one of your best friends and why do you love them? @hellhounds-and-goldink bc she is one of the very few people who can deal with my shit lmao

27. what’s in your ideal sandwich? ok ok oko ko k ok okok so idk the names of types of bread but it’s like. going to be a panini sandwich so the one that works with that. ok so. chicken, onion, cherry tomatoes, pesto, mozzarella, cucumbers, some kind of sauce idk the name of.... probably honey mustard, that’s a Good one

28. pick one song you like for the lyrics and one you like for the music. hohohohohohohohoohhoohoh ok so there are Lots of songs but lyrically i Love where it all goes by lostboycrow so much!!!!! and musically hmmmmmm any of the marian hill songs are Lit musically but if i had to pick one i’d probably pick talk to me.

29. name a few people/places/things that inspire you. hmmmm whenever i go trident bookstore & cafe i get inspired to Write and it’s also a v Good place i highly recommend. zendaya is v inspiring also!!!! and that wonder woman film was so inspiring bc it was also made by a woman!!!!!!

30. think of a person you haven’t talked to in a long time. write something you wish you could say to them. im sorry for not reaching out to you and for forgetting you even exist

31. what’s something that always makes you laugh? that vine that’s like kermit the frog sitting in the car and i don’t mind by usher is playing. gets me every fucking time

32. everyone has that one food place from their hometown that is nowhere else and it is to die for. what’s yours? hmmm well i honestly dont remember what’s there in bishkek but im 100% sure lots of food way better than here

33. what’s the video game you’ve probably logged the most hours on? either the sims or spore or one of those barbie games i had

and here are my 11 questions:

34. silk or velvet?

35. lace or leather?

36. gold or silver?

37. favorite season of the year?

38. list 5 fictional characters who you identify with.

39. list 5 fictional characters whom you would 100% date.

40. who is your favorite superhero?

41. what is your favorite number and why?

42. what is the name of the song that reminds you of the better times?

43. what is the name of the song that reminds you of someone you love? (platonically and/or romantically)

44. what movie do you not get tired of watching over and over again?

45. if you were to direct a film adaptation of any book, what book would it be and would you change anything in your adaptation?

im tagging @hellhounds-and-goldink @magbeth @dantesaristotles @black-dashed-apamea @plvsmid @driftwood-xv @taahko @uranowitz @wedge-antilles

(answer the given questions and come up with 11 new ones!!!)

[elisehwcng-blog]

hey everyone !! my name is jules and i’m so excited to rp with you all! i’m 19, dying from boredom bc summer break without your friends close by fucking s u c k s ( not to mention everyone around here is a snake.. loves to live here as you can see ) and i’m a mcdonald’s frappé addict, like they’re the way to my heart js. anyways, here’s a bit of info on an actual pain in my ass, elise! ( tw: sexual assault, ptsd, knives ) :

MEET ELISE CATHERINE HWANG

born on march 13, 1997

the daughter of first generation korean-canadians

her parents gave her a korean name as well to appease their own parents

which is hwang min-ji

scarborough, ontario born and raised and the eldest of two kids

she doesn’t care intensely for a lot of people, but she fucking adores her little bro

the most stubborn chick alive, will never admit she’s wrong unless you weasel it out of her with some heavy guilt-tripping

a true instagram addict, which makes sense bc she can be p vain at times

rather intuitive tbh

has a problem with trusting others, feels like she can only truly rely on herself so if you break through that barrier then congrats ig

she won’t make it obvious though, she’s a sociable being and will actually take to you if you pique her interest with free booze or a wild story

just don’t expect her to surrender much of her life story, but she’ll also get a bit offended if you don’t offer a bit of your own ?? 

the most annoying internalizer of emotions ever if you’re actually friends with her, 110% will not confide in you if you’re not one of four people in her life

still working on other minor elements of her personality, but i’ll add it after i post this if it comes to mind within the half hour after !

now to her actual background

she lived in a divisive household when it came to tradition

her parents did a lot of things to satisfy their parents but didn’t enforce their kids to do the same with them

mostly just told them to go along with them whenever their halmaes and halbaes were around

ex: not being very religious but attending church regardless

so elise grew up a little less restricted than they had long story short

her parents both have careers in science, her mom’s a pharmacist at her parents’ small clinic and her dad’s a microbiologist, so financially, her family does p well ( upper-middle class for the region )

she wasn’t the best at making friends in her early years and when she did, they didn’t stick around for long

one of the pros of living in the gta being there were a ton of kids around so it wasn’t all in vain

also her vanity when she was a kid was prob a turn off for the other kids lol

smart af

like english? a’s

math? a’s

french? a+

even though she isn’t confirmed fluent, hasn’t bothered to go through with that just yet

as she got older, she became better at making friends and soon had a small group of like-minded individuals around her

almost got valedictorian when she graduated, her and another dude were separated by .3% and that had her fuming tbh

if you milk it out of her, prepare yourself for one of her rants about her three ap courses/credits to her name going to waste.. she won’t hold back

decided to go to u of a bc it was a chance to a) study abroad, b) be even more unrestricted, aka fuck up her liver and not get in deep shit for it, and c) to just live in a less bustling area than gta

besides she’s a major history hoe and amsterdam is f u l l of it

tw: sexual assault, so in her first year of uni, she went out with a few friends and her girlfriend at the time and got approached by a dude she’d only shut down

he got aggressive and ended up being kicked out of the club, and while elise tried to put it behind her, she couldn’t enjoy herself so she went back to the dorms early

once she got back, she went into the elevator to get to her floor and lo and behold, the dude followed her back and now had her up against a panel. didn’t realize she basically let him into the dorm

had a knife to her neck while he assaulted her and was hysterical

was smart enough to call the duty phone and p much gave away where they’d be going 

so she was relieved when an ra was on the other side of the door when it got to her floor, but that didn’t stay for long bc of what had just happened

recounting it, having to go to the hospital for her injuries, that entire night had her shaken and bawling

wouldn’t leave her room for two weeks after that

her grades slipped a little, at least until the situation was explained and she could make up for it

she found it hard to sleep some nights, to eat, and the furthest she’d leave her room would be to go to the nearby vending machine in daylight

slowly, she moved on from it, not fully but enough to soon return to lectures, go shopping, etc

she still has nightmares of the ordeal, sometimes gets into defensive mode if someone grabs her arm a certain way, and goes into a fight or flight response if she sees someone wearing something similar to what he had that night

she doesn’t make it too apparent around most people, or rather she tries to

that aside, she’s been keeping up with school and her social life is about where it was before her assault, which she is more than thankful for, even if she’ll always be a bit paranoid or cautious about it

majoring in physics.. gl to her lmao

as i said before, she speaks french, is fluent in korean and is learning dutch

loves languages so she isn’t rly complaining

memes are the way to her heart

well, memes and quesadillas/paninis/poutine

just food in general but to do right by her, you gotta go for one of the big three in her eyes

secret sci fi junkie

here for aesthetically pleasing everything

but will shove that aside for some hella loud rock music

her room is almost never in disorder, oddly enough

will talk your ear off about the latest nasa discovery if she pleases

quite the party girl, but rly lets loose in an environment that she knows she’s safe — and will be taken care of — in

basically you won’t know rly who she is from one day to the next, the personification of a wild ride

i think that’s about it ?? anyways, if you’d like to plot, just hmu or like this and i’ll come to you! i have a few plot ideas here if you’d like to check that out beforehand though !!