#let Chay be stupid for fuck's sake

[brother-lipsmackariah]

I really don't like this new wave of KimChay fans pretending Chay knew Kim was suspicious and playing him all along but decided to "humor" him or whatever

No. He did not.

There is literally no sign of that in canon. Chay was so blinded by his crush and fan worship and eager for attention from his idol that he ignored ALL THE RED FLAGS

[bittersweet-n-smilin]

Unexpected Run-in • Chai x Mocha Fic • Game Chapter Write-in

Wrote this in one sitting cuz I've been playing the game again and got suddenly inspired. Takes place right before the Track 2 boss fight. I ACCIDENTALLY HIT POST FUCK

He dropped out of the vent into the waiting area. Finally, he made it to Rekka's office. Taking a deep breath and knocking a drink out of the vending machine, he steeled himself. The only thing left to do was defeat the big boss and get some answers about-

"Chai?"

He immediately recognized who called out to him, shoving 808 behind a potted plant before Peppermint could question him. The hacker only watched as the owner of the voice approached him. Of all the times for someone to recognize him!

The girl was dressed a bit more formally than the last time Chai saw her, but she kept the pink streaks in her hair on display.

"Oh, hey! It's Mo, right? From the boat ride over." He almost fell as he tried to lean against the vending machine, but somehow managed to catch himself without her noticing. He really didn't want to screw up around her. She was cool! And she actually listened to him talk!

"Glad you remembered" she answered with a slight chuckle. Her eyes lit up when she laid eyes on his shiny new prosthetic. "I'm also glad that things worked out! How does it feel? Are you adjusting okay?"

"Aw, this thing?" he presented his arm, "It works like a dream. I already feel like I'm one step closer to my world tour." He found himself a bit flustered as he allowed her to gently take his arm and examine it. "So, uhhhh.... what are you doing? Here. In production. Right now."

"Suprised to see me again after you took off the moment the boat docked?"

"No no no! I was just- It was-" he started waving his hands around as if trying to grab a good answer from thin air.

"Relax, I'm teasing." She reached out to take his metal wrist and lower his flailing arm. "Kale Vandelay is letting me conduct some thesis research on campus, but I have to do grunt work in return," she sighed out. "Not sure if that's legal, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. What about you? This is honestly the last place where I expected to run into you again."

Crap. This wasn't good. Peppermint, who had been watching the scene annoyed and unimpressed, wished she could materialize in the room and drag him away before he said something stupid. Not for his sake, but for the sake of her plans. If this girl was acting as an errand boy to the bosses, she could end their investigation before they even began.

Chai stared at Mocha slack-jawed, while she waited expectantly. If he wasn't sweating before, he was now. "I... got... lost..." He was doomed.

Her face crinkled in confusion. "Lost? How did-? This is-?" She stared out into the void, probably hoping it had some answer for her. Peppermint was about to start banging her head against her keyboard.

Trying to regain his composure, he stammered, "Well that's- I was trying to find- ...it's personal." He only got more nervous the longer she blinked at him.

She managed to speak again after a few moments. With a shrug, she replied, "None of my business, then." It was the hacker's turn to stare slack-jawed as she watched the miracle of Chai's success through 808's eyes. Mocha continued, "I just hope you're alright. I've been hearing about someone getting a defective part or something, but I'm glad you seem to be fine." She playfully punched his synthetic shoulder while shooting him a soft smile.

Chai almost fell again as he tried to lean against the vending machine once more. This time, he was a lot less graceful in catching himself. "Yeah. I'm so good. I'm chill. Nothing wrong with me!" This elicited a laugh from her, which he counted as a success.

"Well, I'm glad I got to see you again. Maybe we can grab lunch sometime? You're a really fun person to talk to." Peppermint scoffed at her screen, not agreeing with the other girl's compliment. Chai, on the other hand, was visibly ecstatic.

"For sure! I can do that!" He forgot to consider that he was a wanted defect about to brawl with an executive before agreeing to make plans with her.

She smiled wide, happy to have her proposal accepted. "Great! There's actually a café here on campus. Kale seems to love the coffee there, so it must be good. See you there tomorrow? Does noon sound good?"

Before he could affirm, a small "Ahem!" came from the corner. Peppermint finally decided to put an end to the conversation before Chai's luck ran out. Mocha glanced around, trying to find out where the sound came from, before shooting him an apologetic look.

"That's probably for me. I should get back to what I was doing. Hope you can make it!" She waved goodbye before trotting over to the front desk and beginning to talk over some files with the receptionist.

808 floated back over to Chai. Peppermint's voice came through the speaker. "That was absolutely painful to watch. You're lucky she didn't get suspicious!"

"Relax, okay? I had it all under control. Some people are just swayed by my natural charms."

"Ugh. No more distractions. Let's go. You can grab coffee after we take care of Spectra."

Chai had a new pep in his step as he walked towards his showdown with the head of production. "Hey, Peppermint. Do you think she meant it as a date thing or a friendship thing?"

"I don't care."

"Okay, geez."

[cookbook-of-boba-fett]

Mull It Over Wine

[Recipe at bottom]

Editor’s Note: We haven’t heard from Mr. Fett in a while. Apparently he’s been busy at work writing a book, or something. You’ll understand in the blog post why we’re a bit confused. We’ve transcribed the audio as best as possible, but most of this post qualifies under “butt dialing”. We apologize for any confusion, believe us, we’re in the same boat. We wonder if it will make more sense when we test this recipe for ourselves.

So, the publishers were saying they don’t like it. They don’t liiiiiike it. Well if there’s one thing I know about people, it’s that they don’t like me. No, Shand, this isn’t a diary, it’s a blog. I’m allowed to write what I want. Look, and people will listen to me. They don’t have to like me.

Anyway so instead of whining about it, I’m following the grand tradition of wining about it.

It’s fucking cold on Tatooine. Ironic, right? I’ve been so caught up in the heat of everything here, the coarseness, that I forgot what cold felt like. In the…

(E/N: Mr. Fett moved away from the recorder while speaking, but we’re pretty sure he was upset about something. He mentioned a “thrice-damned Han Solo” several times, and threw a mug at the wall. He then laughed for ten minutes straight.)

Don’t let your wine boil. Do not. You will lose the point of the wine. Shand bought me this stupid pot. Yes, it’s stupid. You press a button and it. It does pot things. Cooks! It cooks. So I tested it on a forgiving subject. Well, it’s forgiving when you cook with it, but not forgiving for the person you’ll be tomorrow. But I don’t care about that. It’s karking cold, and I want to drink out of something with a handle.

This WILL stain your white porcelain. Use a mug that’s already been abused and stained.

Like my face.

Or his face.

I’m the only one in the galaxy who can make that joke, and the only one who can laugh at it, and live to see the next morning.

Oh you want to add the brandy too, but make sure someone has ancestors to tell you when to stop. As a clone, I think my ancestral rights were stripped away like paint off beskar. No, Shand, I’m not being morose, I’m talking about brandy. So you want to listen to your ancestors, and then add some more, just to buck authority.

Spices? Right. I’ve been told none of you have the spices I have. Use the same mentality as the golden beskar cakes, whatever floats your grav-repulsors. If there are local flavors to use, use those. I’ve seen some marts sell whole bundles of spices for mulling in little bags, which is good. Wine should not be textured.

(E/N: Mr. Fett proceeded to sit in silence for 13 minutes, occasionally sipping, stirring, and sighing. We’re unsure if this is part of the process or not.)

I wish he was here.

-BF

Mull It Over Wine - best shared with company, and supervision.

Ingredients:

Two regular bottles (750mL each, or 1.5L total) of a sweeter red wine (E/N: When the editors tried this at our holiday party, we used two bottles of merlot)

Brandy or orange spotchka (E/N: Cointreau or orange liqueur)

Spices* to taste

Sugar, honey, or other sweetener to taste (stir before tasting, don’t be like Shand)

Garnishes* (fruit, zest, etc I don’t care)

*For traditional mulled wine, we recommend using whole cloves, star anise, and cinnamon sticks, with a 8:2:2:1 for cloves:anise:cinnamon:bottle of wine. YMMV on the taste you’re going for. Additionally, it’s traditional to add in slices of orange or blood orange as garnishes. If you don’t have whole spices, you can put them in an empty tea bag and let them steep in the wine as to not bring the beloathed texture. Barring all of that, we’ve also found the poor-man’s mulled wine can be red wine, a few bags of chai tea, and applied heat.

Instructions:

Combine.

Heat on medium-low. DO NOT BOIL FOR FUCK’S SAKE DO NOT BOIL.

Strain if you’re paranoid.

Serve in caf mugs.

Optional:

      5. Enjoy.

[cozy-neko]

The Cherry On Top • Character Introductions • 01 | And so it begins • 02

With each cup of coffee Y/N placed in the cupholder, a low grumble accompanied the action. Each thunk of coffee that slid into each holder was a little more aggressive and heavy-handed than the task need be, but the air of irritation that emitted from the girl was undeniably strong, and the unfortunate barista that was tasked to make this foul-mood customer’s drinks handed her the last of her order before quickly slinking away.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Y/N continued to grumble under her breath the entire frigid three blocks back to the campus of where her office was located.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” A scowl was evident on the girl’s face the entire elevator ride up the tall skyscraper until it dinged and stopped at the 70th floor. It wasn’t until the doors slid open that Y/N sucked in a shaky breath and plastered a Crest-worthy, Splenda-sweet smile on her face as she exited the lift and entered the bustling office.

“Coffee’s here!” Y/N sang out and placed the two cup holders down on top of the front office’s counter tabletop.

“Y/N’s back!”

A scurry of workers crowded around the 21-year-old girl as she animatedly read off orders off the top of her head and handed them out, one-by-one to its rightful owner.

“You’re the best, Y/N-chan!” A senpai from the tech editorial department ruffled her head, earning a small whimper of protest as she tried to sooth her hair. It wasn’t like she spent twenty-minutes this morning trying to tame her unruly mane for nothing.

“Isn’t Y/N the best? She’s always so good at remembering who gets what.” Another senpai from the lifestyle editorial department chimed in and took a sip from her latte.

“Oh no, no! I’m just doing my job.” Y/N let out a forced chuckle, but it went unnoticed as her coworkers slowly disappeared back to their corner of the office to get back to work.

"Alright, you can drop the act, you fake."

The instant Y/N heard a snort coming from behind, the fake smile that was plastered to her face immediately dropped as she whipped around to face a chestnut-haired male.

"I hate it here," Y/N groaned and leaned her upper body onto the countertop. She let out a huff of air and blew a stray piece of hair away from her eyes. "I can't wait to graduate from coffee intern to staff writer."

"You're meeting with the Chief later today, right?" Oikawa Tooru removed his hands from the pockets of his slacks and eyed the remaining drink leftover.

"Mmm, yeah." Y/N let out a distracted sigh as her thumbs flew across the keyboard of her smartphone for a quick text. With the click of a button, she locked her phone and shoved it into her pants pocket and gave her full attention to the older male. "Chief told me that she had good news for me, and judging by all the overtime work and random projects I picked up over the past few months --"

"You mean bitch work?" Oikawa interrupted, earning a glare from the girl.

"For your information, my 'bitch work' got published last week! And that's besides the point. All that matters is that Chief has noticed that I'm a responsible worker who is willing to go above and beyond my day-to-day tasks and now I'm definitely getting the promotion that's been long due!"

There was a smug grin on Y/N's face while Oikawa rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, you are a hard worker, Y/N-chan, but that doesn't mean you should be doing other people's tasks when it should be their job to do them in the first place."

"Can't you just be happy for me?" Y/N whined. "I didn't graduate from UTokyo with over $100k in student debt just to go on coffee runs. And I don't even get to have my own drink!"

Oikawa sighed and placed a hand on top of the shorter girl's head. "I am happy for you. And proud of you. I hope you get the staff writer position you wanted, and when you do get assigned to my department, I'll make sure to run you dead with ten articles simultaneously." 

There was an evil, teasing glint in Oikawa's eyes which Y/N responded to by sticking out her tongue.

A ding! interrupted the teasing banter and Y/N checked her phone. She let out a quick squeal and a small hop.

"Gotta go! Ayame-san from tech has an article she wants me to write!"

Y/N waved goodbye and scurried away.

"Hey! I asked for a dirty Chai, not a mocha! What the fuck, Y/N?" Oikawa yelled after the retreating girl.

"Serves you right for making me do your coffee run too, Oinkawa!" Y/N's bubbly laughter echoed through the hallway as she skipped towards the tech editorial department.

Oikawa sighed and tugged at the front pieces of his hair. It was already nearing the end of the day, but he was still at least half an hour away from completing his remaining task for the day. He was currently in the middle of copy-editing an article one of his staff writers submitted earlier today when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

Oikawa removed his glasses and pulled out his phone, rubbing his tired eyes while unlocking his phone. It was a text from Y/N.

She must've finally talked to Chief, Oikawa thought. He swiped his thumb to unlock his phone and read the text.

Oikawa grimaced at Y/N’s text. It was obvious the meeting did not go the way Y/N had wanted it to. Sighing, Oikawa stood up and packed his things. Looks like the article was going to have to be pushed back a week; there was a more important meeting he had to attend to first.

Y/N glared at her phone and bounced her leg, a nervous tick that Oikawa absolutely hated whenever she did. Maybe if he was here right now, he would've had the opportunity to scold her. Except his train was running five minutes late. Y/N groaned as she watched another minute go by.

Where's Tooru?

How much longer was he going to make her sit in agony at their favorite bakery and tea shop? 

Right when Y/N was about to hit send on her phone, the shop door jingled, and in waltzed Oikawa.

"Alright, alright, I'm here. What happened?" Oikawa was slightly breathless, having sped-walked from the station and down the block to meet up with Y/N. He rolled up his button-down sleeves and removed his work badge from around his neck.

"So I got the promotion," Y/N began to which Oikawa cut her off.

"Okay, congrats, but that's hardly an existential crisis."

"No! Let me finish!" Y/N stomped her foot once, irritation beginning to seep in. Oikawa rolled his eyes, completely immune to Y/N's temper flare ups. Instead of retorting, he opted to take a sip of her fruit tea. "I got the promotion, but it wasn't the promotion I wanted."

"Did you get placed in lifestyle with Iwa-chan? I heard that department's kind of a mess right now. Iwa-chan told me their lifestyle editor's too busy hooking up with Hanamaki's layout intern to even run the department --"

"Tooru, for kami's sake, I'm begging you to shut up." Y/N groaned and covered her face with her hands. "I'm TK Mag's new gossip blogger. Chief wants me to freaking exploit influencers under the alias of 'Cherry' for the new Cherry on Top blog."

“The new what now?”

end notes: 

→ the timestamps at the top of each photo are irrelevant. the timestamps that you want to pay attention to (or not. it really doesn’t matter) are the ones within the text chats.

→ if you see the word shanchou in oikawa’s and y/n’s texts, i accidentally misspelled the word shachou which means “president of the company.” i was debating whether i wanted to use the japanese spelling or just keep it as Chief. i changed my mind multiple times and decided to just go with the english version but got too lazy to correct the photo. 🤡

→ props to authors who only explicitly write smaus. creating each social post is so time consuming and slightly frustrating that i almost threw my phone across the room.

→ don’t come at me for my nonexistent and try-hard humor. 😔✋this is why i only write angst.

→ no kenma and akaashi this chapter, but they will be introduced in the next!

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[waitineedaname]

frame the halves and call them a whole

also on ao3

--

“Alright, I’ve got a bad one.”

“Oh, lord.”

“Brace yourself.”

“I’m bracing!” Sasha made a show of gripping the short carpet on her living room floor and Tim grinned, leaning back against her coffee table.

“Would you rather… date a spider with the head of a human, or a human with the head of a spider?”

“Jesus. I see someone has been reading the discredited statements.”

“Guilty.” Tim shrugged cheekily. 

The two of them were sitting on the floor in Sasha’s flat, and she’d long since lost track of what time it was. Ever since they’d been moved to the Archives, they’d made an agreement to go out and do something together once a week. Sometimes that meant getting sloshed and losing at pub trivia, sometimes that meant dragging each other to whatever new film had made it to theaters that week, and sometimes that meant playing sleepover games in the middle of the night, as if they were twelve year olds and not thirty-somethings with 9-to-5’s. Neither of them had the energy to go out drinking and there wasn’t anything good in the theaters that week, so the third option had won out. They’d ended up on the floor when Sasha made an ill-advised comment about not being ticklish and Tim called her bluff. She’d dissolved into hysterical giggles and he’d said something about how being an oldest sibling meant having a sixth sense for someone’s ticklish spots, and then he’d gone very still and quiet. She’d taken his hand and squeezed and initiated the game of would-you-rather they found themselves in now.

“Okay. Let me think about this.” She drummed her fingers on her lips contemplatively. Tim smiled in that fond way he did when he didn’t want to outright laugh at her. “Are the human and spider bits proportional?”

“Ooh, very good question, Sash. Let’s say they’re the normal sizes for your average spiders and humans.”

“So my options are a human head scuttling around on spider legs or a human with an absolutely microscopic spider head?”

“Yep!” Tim said, popping the ‘p.’

“I’m going to go with option A. I mean, if it’s a human head, I could still hold a conversation with it, right? And I don’t think spiders would make good kissers.”

“I think some of our statement givers would disagree with that judgment.”

“Please don’t tell me we have a statement about a human body with a spider head. I don’t think I could take it.”

“Sure do! Statement number 9170108, or something like that. Some freaked out old coot convinced his neighbor’s head was fake and he was keeping a tiny little spider underneath the fake head.”

“Christ. I’m glad Jon didn’t ask me to look into that one. I might have quit on the spot.” Sasha laughed.

“Aw, and then leave me and Martin to deal with Jon? You know how he gets with the spider ones.” 

“Hm, fair. The Archives need someone sensible around.”

“Hey, you’re not the sole voice of reason down there!”

“You’re right. Martin can be fairly practical when he wants.” She failed to bite back her smirk when Tim clutched his chest, feigning pain.

“Oh, how you wound me, Ms. James! Here I was, thinking it was Tim and Sasha versus the world, but you’ve betrayed me for Martin!”

“Is that your proposal for a Scott Pilgrim reboot? Am I Ramona in this scenario?”

“No, we’re both Scott Pilgrim because combined, we can equal the pure sexual energy of one Michael Cera.”

“Eugh! Gross!” She retched and kicked at him, making him laugh. 

“I’m kidding!”

“You better be! Any and all horniness for Michael Cera is banned in this flat!”

“That’s fair.” He caught her foot and shoved it back at her. “Knives and Ramona were both way too good for him, anyway. They should’ve ended up together at the end.”

“That’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said all night.”

“You’re really not pulling any punches tonight, huh?”

“Nope. My turn. Would you rather...” She crossed her arms and stared him down long enough to make him squirm, “get stoned with Jon or Elias?”

Tim groaned so loud she worried her neighbors would complain. “No. Absolutely not. You cannot make me choose that.”

“Hey, you asked about spider people!”

“Yeah, and I’d argue that dealing with my bosses while stoned is worse than a human head skittering around on the walls!”

“Oh, come on. Jon isn’t that bad.”

“Sasha. You were friends with him in Research. I was friends with him in Research. Last time we got drinks, he talked about South American moths for forty minutes. I’m getting a headache just thinking about listening to him while he’s stoned.”

“Maybe it’ll calm him down.”

“Maybe.” Tim pouted, and Sasha did her best not to giggle. “Alright fine. I choose Jon, but only because I cannot imagine Elias getting within eyesight of anything as fun as weed without shriveling up and acting like an affronted Victorian gentleman.”

“Okay, first of all, the Victorians loved drugs, they were high on opiates all the time-"

"Like hell am I doing opiates with Elias."

"Second of all, I may have looked into what Elias was like before he got promoted…” She trailed off and bit back a laugh when Tim's jaw dropped.

“No.” 

“And he was a major stoner.”

“You can’t just say these things. I refuse to accept it.”

“I’m serious!”

“Are we talking about the same Elias? The Elias Bouchard that uses words like grandiloquent and apropos? The Elias Bouchard that gets pissy if you round up on your time card?”

“You know what’s even worse?”

“Please don’t make it worse.”

“I’ve seen him wear those socks with weed patterns on them.”

“I told you not to make it worse.” Tim wailed and covered his face. “I swear, if I saw that, I would gouge my eyes out without hesitation.” Sasha patted his leg sympathetically. 

“Well, good thing you chose Jon, then.”

“I guess so! Fuck’s sake.” He sighed and flopped over onto his side to lie on the floor. Sasha laughed at him goodnaturedly, and then joined him on the floor. She expected him to be thinking of his next would-you-rather prompt, but after a long minute of him silently running his fingers through the carpet, he surprised her by asking, “Do you ever miss Jon?”

“Sorry?” She said, confused. “We see him every day, Tim.”

“No, I…” He huffed, “You know what I mean. Do you miss the Jon we knew in Research?”

“Oh…” Sasha caught onto his drift and fell silent, unsure what to say. Tim was clearly brimming with emotions that he was struggling to get out, so she let him take a minute.

“Not saying he’s a completely different person now, but… I don’t know. We used to get drinks with him. He used to laugh at our jokes. He used to make jokes. Weird, dark jokes, but still jokes, you know? But these days, it’s all business, all the time. I don’t think I’ve seen him smile in months. All… All snappish comments and ‘research this, call this statement giver, stop goofing off during work hours.’ Never mind that just a year ago, he was the one using work hours to show us cat videos because he got distracted during his lunch break.” The side of Tim’s face was smushed into the floor and his one free eye was focused on the whorls he was creating with his fingers in the carpet. Up close as they were, Sasha could see the light scar on his chin that he’d once told her was the result of an ill-advised dare as a child, when his brother had challenged him to see if they could jump off the back deck of their house. She touched it, and he leaned into her hand, eyes distant and sad. “I just…” He spoke softly, “I miss my friend.”

“I miss him too.” Sasha said honestly, though she knew Tim was taking it harder than she was. “You know it’s not your fault, right?”

“I know that.” Tim said, and she believed him. “It’s this stupid job. The stupid Archives. I miss being in Research, where I could make fun of the weirdos in the Archives, but now we’re the weirdos in the Archives.”

“We work at an institute that studies the supernatural. I think we’re the weirdos no matter which department we’re in.” She said, aiming for some levity and feeling relieved when Tim let out a soft huff of laughter.

“Fair. Still. The vibes in there are…”

“Bad.” She finished for him.

“You can say that again.” He finally shifted to look at her again. “If you were the Head Archivist-”

“Tim-” She warned, not wanting to dig up an old sore point. 

“I’m serious. If you were the Archivist, do you think you’d act like this?”

“Would I push you away, you mean.” She said. He shrugged and nodded. “I don’t know. I really don’t, Tim. I’d like to say I wouldn’t, but who knows what kind of pressure it involves. I can be just as intense as Jon when I feel pressured.”

“Yeah, but you’d be way nicer than him.”

“You don’t know that.” Sasha said, firm but gentle. 

“...Guess I don’t.” Tim sighed and shut his eyes. She reached down and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

“Next time you’re missing Jon, call me instead, okay? Or Martin, he’d love that.” She ran her thumb over his and gave him a small smile. “You can always count on me.”

His gaze is impossibly soft as he looks up at her, and he seems to almost forget to respond at first. “Yeah.” He finally says. “I can always count on you, Sash.” A cheeky grin spread across his face, breaking the tender moment. “The Pilgrim to my Scott.”

She laughed and let go of his hand to push his shoulder into the leg of the coffee table playfully. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense!” He protested despite his own laughter. “Okay, maybe it doesn’t make sense, but it’s the thought that counts. I’m poetic.”

“No, you’re sleep-deprived.” She sat up enough to eye the microwave from her vantage point in the kitchen. “Oh lord, it’s 2am, no wonder. You always get sappy at 2am.”

“I do not!”

“You do. Big sap.” She patted his cheek playfully and stood. “Want me to get you some extra blankets for the couch?”

“That’d be great.” He hauled himself to his feet, groaning all the way. She snickered.

“You sound like an old man.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m young and spry.” He complained, stretching.

“Mhm.” She rolled her eyes and went to the closet.

“At the prime of my life.”

“And yet you make dad noises getting out of a chair.”

“Hey, lying on the floor isn’t good for your back! Aren’t you older than me anyway?”

“Maybe, but I’m not the one complaining about my back.” She cut off whatever complaint he had prepared by throwing a quilt at him. He caught it and stuck his tongue out at her. She returned the gesture and grabbed another blanket. “Are two blankets good?”

“That’s perfect.” He took the blanket gratefully and settled on the couch. “Should I make breakfast as thanks?”

“You don’t have to,” Sasha immediately said out of politeness, but then added, “But if you want to make pancakes…”

“Understood. I’ll see you bright and early with some pancakes, then.” Tim smiled up at her and made himself comfortable on the couch.

“See you in the morning, Tim.” She turned to walk to her room, but stopped at the doorway when Tim piped up again.

“Sasha?”

“Hm?” She looked back at him and saw his best flirty grin on his face. He winked and blew a kiss at her. More than used to his nonsense, she gasped and pretended to catch the invisible kiss, then promptly put her hand to mouth and pretended to eat the kiss. Tim clutched his heart and fell back onto the couch, trying to act like he wasn’t holding back laughter. “No, you’re so cruel!”

“Good night, Tim.” She said, closing the door behind herself before her poker face could break.

“Good night, Sasha.” She heard through the door, full of fondness and amusement in equal parts. 

Sasha rolled out of bed the next morning to find Tim making pancakes, as promised. They sat at her kitchen table and bickered playfully about movies; Tim listened patiently as she infodumped about the history of science fiction as a genre, and she let him rant for the fiftieth time about Indiana Jones. Tim insisted on washing the dishes like a gentleman, and Sasha insisted on squirting bubbles out of the dish detergent bottle at him. They didn’t speak a word about work or their conversation from the night before, but she hugged him very tightly before he left, as if conveying all the emotion she could through touch alone. From the way he squished his face into her shoulder, it seemed the message came across. 

“I’ll make sure to get you the spider guy’s number.” He said when they finally pulled apart, and she snorted.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” She said, shoving him out the door.

“So I’ve heard.” He winked and walked backwards down the hall outside her flat. She sighed and waved, a smile on her face as she shut the door.

If he bugged her and Martin more than usual after talking to Jon the following week, she didn’t mention it.

[ambitionsource]

Which factions from Divergent would everyone be in?

Why can questions be colour now!

oh so pretty, a little purple spice in the inbox. i waited to answer this because i knew nothing about divergent and now that i’m reading the first book, i figure i can take a crack at this. still gonna reference the wiki though since im only like a fifth into the novel lol. this kind of goes against like everything i believe in about character since it reduces them to one personality trait but i’ll refrain from calling everyone divergent and just. go with it for the sake of the challenge

i will try to do it like... which faction i think they’d choose on the actual ceremony day (like who they are in their heart or whatever) and i’ll note if they were raised in a different faction and thus are a transfer. fun fact i cant even spell like half these words

Abnegation (The Selfless)

“Abnegation is the faction that values the needs of others above the needs of oneself. Their core belief is 'Them before I.'”

Charlie Gardner

Asher Garcia (though I think he resists a strong instinct towards Dauntless because he doesn’t believe he could possibly fit there since he has such bad anxiety... and yet...)

Jade Beamon

Clarissa Cruz

Erudite (The Intelligent)

It is noted that Erudites care for eloquent speeches, as well as their search for knowledge. The Erudite, though extremely intelligent, have been known to be vain. Their (long) manifesto is “Ignorance is defined not as stupidity but as lack of knowledge. Lack of knowledge inevitably leads to a lack of understanding. Lack of understanding leads to a disconnect among people with differences. Disconnection among people with differences leads to conflict. Knowledge is the only logical solution to the problem of conflict. Therefore, we propose that to eliminate conflict, we must eliminate the disconnect among those with differences by correcting the lack of understanding that arises from ignorance with knowledge.”

Jack Hunter (though he’d resist a pull towards Abnegation)

Nigel Chey

Jeff Monroe

Brandon Rivas (transfer from Dauntless)

Dauntless (The Brave)

Dauntless is considered the stalwart soldiers of the factions. Dauntless are those who are brave, seeming almost fearless. They strive to become courageous and durable. “We believe in ordinary acts of bravery, in the courage that drives one person to stand up for another... we believe in shouting for those who can only whisper, in defending those who cannot protect themselves.”

Lucas James Friar (transfer from Abnegation, where Grace is stuck)

Riley Matthews (transfer from Candor, i.e. Topanga and Cory, though Cory should’ve been something like Amity but stuck to the family lineage unlike Eric)

Zay Babineaux

Yindra Amino

Angela Moore

Harper Burgess

I should clarify here though that I know it’s like they’re supposed to be all badass stereotypical Goth YA hotties and wear all black and stuff but I feel like this crew (sans Lucas) would be like fuck that. They’d all be wearing their iconic funky fashion and LJF would be like WE’RE SUPPOSED TO BE BORING!!! AND WEAR BLACK!!! and Zay, Riley, and Yindra would be like blah blah blahhhhhh get a pop of color for once loser. Just felt that needed to be clarified

Amity (The Peaceful)

Members of Amity value peace and harmony above all else. Amity members are happy people, willing to serve, but, unlike Abnegation, do not come face-to-face with those they serve (usually). “Give freely, trusting that you will be given what you need... Do not be angry. The opinions of others cannot damage you... The wrong is past. You must let it rest where it lies... You must no longer think cruel thoughts. Cruel thoughts lead to cruel words and hurt you as much as they wound their target.”

Dylan Orlando

Eric Matthews (transfer from Candor)

Dave Williams

Darby Winters

Haley Fisher

Nick Yogi

Candor (The Honest)

Candor members value honesty, above all else. They are very truthful, sometimes to the point of being tactless. They believe that charm is unnecessary, and politeness is deception in pretty packaging. Although Candor values honesty the most, they also seek to develop impartiality. “Dishonesty is rampant. Dishonesty is temporary. Dishonesty makes evil possible.”

Maya Hart (transfer from Abnegation, where Katy is)

Farkle Minkus (transfer from Erudite)

Isadora De La Cruz (transfer from Dauntless -- which Val would be I think)

Nate Martinez

Chai Fresco

Sarah Carlson

Interesting that the real diva trio are all transfers... much to think about. Anyway!

-- Maggie

[kindofcashton]

𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕  •  chapter 4  (Calum Hood AU)

I WORKED THE very next day, and to say Mack threw me right into the thick of things would be a massive understatement.  Roger was working again, and Mack tasked him with teaching me how to make the most basic of coffees before setting me loose.  They really were swamped; the morning rush lasted well into lunchtime.  I knew how to use a cash register fairly well, so for a while Roger and I divided the duties.  Once things died down for a brief period, he showed me the more complex drinks, each one more confusing than the next.

“You’ll get it,” he told me encouragingly when I’d added too much foam to an espresso.  I put my hands on my hips and blew out a sigh.

“I’ve always been told I brew some killer coffee,” I explained.  “This should be natural.”

Roger chuckled, swiping a rag through some mugs.  I liked him; he was easy-going even under pressure, but knew when to be firm with the difficult customers.  He said that all their best baristas had quit recently to go back to school, and that Mack was left swamped.  

“You’re not in school?” I asked, getting someone’s chai latte ready.  This was one drink I was fairly good at concocting.

He scoffed.  “Are you kidding?  I could never do that college shit.  I’d much rather work at a place like this and do my art on the side.”  Roger did art commissions for people that were actually pretty amazing; he was like Picasso with spray paint.  I admired his confidence in his work, even though any parent would be terrified if their kid wanted to be a freelance artist.  But Roger believed in his talent, and didn’t let anyone convince him otherwise.

There were only two people left in the shop and they’d both been served, so Roger decided to take a quick break.  He said it would be my first “test run” to see how well I did on my own.  I rolled my eyes at his mock salute, but inside I was a nervous wreck.  I wanted to do well--no, needed to.  I needed something to go right for me.

Five minutes passed with no new customers, and I smiled at the thought of not serving anyone while Roger was gone.  Unfortunately, my prayers weren’t answered as the little bell tingled, signaling someone’s arrival.

A tall, chestnut-haired guy approached the register, rubbing the slight stubble on his chin as he examined the chalkboard menu above my head.  I fought the flush that wanted to rise to my cheeks; he was cute, with dark jeans and a casual blazer that probably meant he had a complex coffee order ready to go.

He sent me a shining smile.  “Hey, could I get a cappuccino?”

I huffed, and his expression turned quizzical.  “Sorry,” I answered quickly.  “This is my first day, and the last cappuccino I made...wasn’t great.”

“Should I order something else?  How ‘bout a french roast with cream?”  I appreciated his sense of humor at my inexperience.

I narrowed my eyes playfully.  “Oh no, I’m gonna make you that cappuccino.  Whether it will be edible is still up in the air.”

He laughed, and I noted the way his hazel eyes crinkled when he did this.  

“Can I have a name for the order?”

“Jeremy.”

“Jeremy,” I repeated, and he grinned before taking a seat at the window bar.  Inhaling deeply, I turned to start making the cappuccino.  Espresso, steamed milk, foam.  How hard could it be?

Harder than I thought, apparently.  The drink I ended up concocting was way too milky and overflowing with foam.  I felt my face redden as I presented it to Jeremy, who examined it carefully.

“I know, it’s terrible.  But I did warn you.”

He went to pick up the mug, the crinkles by his eyes returning.  “Are you kidding?  This is absolutely exceptional.  I think I’ll have to come back tomorrow if you keep up this fine work.”

My face hurt from smiling so wide.  “Well, I’ll be here, probably burning some coffee beans or spilling milk.”

I was disappointed to see Jeremy leave once he’d finished his coffee, and Roger materialized behind me when the front door finally shut.

“How do you already have cute guys hitting on you?  And I got a glimpse of that cappuccino, it was awful.”

“He must have had to choke it down,” I joked, giddy at the thought of seeing Jeremy again.  “

Roger rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, I’m guessing it wasn’t that hard to pretend to like it.  Cute baristas have that effect; you’re great for business, you know.”

I pushed his arm playfully, and Roger flipped me off.  

My first day and I already loved this new job.  The rest of my shift took up the majority of the day, until the sun had started to sink below the horizon.  I hung up my apron on the hook in the back room and said goodbye to Mack before walking out into the cool city air.

The grin on my face refused to cease throughout the whole bus ride back home, and I practically sprinted to the house.  Maybe things were finally looking up for me.  If I channeled all of my energy into work and school my life might finally get back on track, the way it was meant to be.

I wanted to burst right through the front door, but even before I reached the porch I could hear yelling from inside.  Muffled shouts were coming from the kitchen, and as I slowly stepped into the foyer the voices became clearer.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”  This was Ashton, and his voice was raised in obvious frustration.

“I was thinking about myself and what was best for me.  College was way fucking harder than I thought it would be.”  My blood ran cold at Hannah’s response.  What did Ashton find out?  Who told him about Hannah’s secret, and did he know about mine?

Quickly joining them in the kitchen, I noticed Luke and Michael in the living room, looking like they wanted to melt into the sofa.  I sent them a confused glance, and the subtle shake of Luke’s head told me how serious this was.

Upon seeing me, Ashton turned his attention away from Hannah, scowl deepening.  “Did you know about this?”

I swallowed roughly, trying to read the message behind Hannah’s pleading eyes.  “Um, know about what?”  It was a stupid attempt at a bluff, and Ashton saw right through it.

“That Hannah isn’t home from school on a break, she’s home permanently.”

My mouth opened slightly in an attempt to respond, but Ashton cut me off.

“I mean, why would you leave a university like that?  With everything you could have achieved there?”

This caused my brow to furrow.  So he thought she left on her own, when in reality she was kicked out.  I slid my gaze over to Hannah’s, and she communicated through a silent expression of desperation.

Don’t say anything, she seemed to be begging.  Go with it.

I gave the smallest, most imperceptible I could.  It was Hannah’s secret to reveal, and I wasn’t going to drive a deeper wedge between her and Ashton.

All of a sudden I felt someone come up behind me, and knew without looking it was Calum.  I glanced over, and his dark eyes met mine briefly.  He was much closer than I thought he needed to be, his chest practically touching my shoulder.  Biting my lip, I faced forward again and tried to ignore his soft exhales on my neck.

Pressing a hand to her forehead, Hannah said in a clipped tone, “Ashton, with all due fucking respect, you never went to college.  You have no idea what it’s like, so I don’t understand why you think you get an opinion.”

Ashton looked ready to punch a hole through the drywall.  “For fuck’s sake, Hannah, because I care about you!  College was supposed to help your future, so what the hell are you supposed to do now?”

This silenced her.  I felt so bad for Hannah; knowing it was all her fault, that she failed so abysmally in her classes and was forced to come home.  She was smart, just not in the typical bookish sense that a university demanded.  I wished I could give her some of mine, because I certainly couldn’t use it right now.

Inhaling shakily, she bawled her fists.  “Ashton.”  Her voice was so weak I thought she was about to cry.  “My future is going to be just fine without you freaking out over it, okay?”

Ashton scoffed, hands on his hips and eyes blazing.  I prayed he just let go of his anger at being lied to, and went over to comfort Hannah.  Yes, she was still lying to him now, which would certainly blow up later, but she needed support.  

My prayers were answered when Ashton let out a defeated exhale and wrapped his arms around Hannah’s smaller frame.  The two of them practically dissolved into each other, breathing together as one.

After a minute they separated, and Ashton cleared his throat.  “We’re gonna go back to my place, spend the night.”

Michael and Luke just nodded, and Calum walked out from behind me to join them in the living room.  As Hannah passed by me, she grabbed my hand and gave it a quick squeeze.  “Thank you,” she murmured.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to process everything.  I felt Calum’s eyes on me, and instantly my heart stopped.  He’d seen Hannah say something, which meant he knew our answers were bullshit.

I felt trapped by his deep brown gaze, completely immobile and at his disposal.  The cogs in his brain were so clearly turning, and I was terrified he would say something.

But then the moment ended, and he looked away, releasing me from his clutches.  

After getting myself a glass of water and grabbing my school bag I collapsed onto a chair at the kitchen table.  Michael grabbed a soda from the fridge and leaned against the stainless steel door.

“Crazy,” he commented, head shaking in disbelief.

“It was like my parents were arguing,” Luke said, shuddering.  “But those two could get through anything, seriously.”

Calum remained quiet, of course, but his expression was thoughtful as ever.

“Hey, how’d your first day go?" Luke asked.  “Did you show them your killer coffee skills?”

I chuckled, flipping a pencil between my fingers to relieve some of my pent up anxiety.  “Turns out my skills are less than killer.  I can brew some great black coffee, but no one really orders that.  I think it’ll be really good, though.  The people are great, and the customers were actually nice.”  My thoughts drifted to Jeremy, and a small smile danced across my lips.  “I have an early shift tomorrow though, 7am.”

“Rough,” Michael replied.  “Godspeed, I won’t be awake till noon.”

I chuckled, and was surprised when Calum finally spoke up.  “The customers are nice until you screw up someone’s triple shot macchiato and they flip their shit on you.”

I bit my lip, dreading that scenario.  “I’ll, uh, try to avoid that.”

Calum nodded, and with that he disappeared from the kitchen.

Pulling books out of my bag, started mentally organizing the work I had to do.  Luke and Michael went off to bed, Michael opting for the futon downstairs since Ashton and Hannah had left.

I was alone in the kitchen, trying desperately to focus on the study of neurological activity in the sleeping brain, but I just couldn’t get my mind off of Hannah.  We were both lying to everyone we cared about, and sooner or later the truth would come out.  I wasn’t prepared to face the music about my parents, though, and the last thing I wanted was people finding out I was destitute.  If I could just hold on a little longer, work for a while and keep studying, everything would be fine.

The hardest part would be putting up with Calum.  He was so cold and brooding, and clearly had no respect for personal space as I learned tonight by how close he stood to me.  I could still feel the tickle of his breath on my neck, and raised a hand to gently rub the skin.

- - - - -

I had no idea I’d fallen asleep at the table until someone was shaking me awake.  My eyes blinked open, blurry from sleep and disorientation.  It was still dark out, and I wondered who would be up at this hour.

“What’s happening?” I asked, my voice gravelly.  I rubbed my eyes and made out Calum’s figure standing next to me, arms folded with a frown.

“Would you rather I let you sleep through your shift?  It’s 5:30, and I know you’ve got a bus to catch.  And, you know, take like an hour just getting ready.”  Before I could process what he said he turned away from me to fiddle with something in the cupboard.

I was slightly shocked.  Calum remembered when my shift was?  And cared enough to wake me up?  I had no idea what to make of this, and was too tired to work it through.

“Thanks.”  I yawned and began to load my books back into my bag, moving slowly as my body was weighed down with exhaustion.

“I think the point is to read the books, not use them as pillows,” Calum criticized.

Scowling at his attitude, I ripped the zipper a little harshly, causing him to actually look over.  

“I was reading them,” I rebutted.  “I just...got tired I guess.”

“Aren’t college kids supposed to be responsible and organized?”

“Are you saying I’m not?”

He crossed his arms, body language defensive.  “I’m just saying, you’re the one who fell asleep and almost missed your shift.  I’d say that’s pretty irresponsible.”

Sighing loudly, I rubbed my temples to try and banish the slight ache in my brain.  “It is way too early for this stupid argument,” I muttered.

“We’re not arguing, I’m just telling you.” 

“Yeah, well, thanks for telling me I’m disorganized and irresponsible.  Got anything else to say, or can I get ready for work now?”

I stood up and started towards the stairs, glaring his way.  Calum just shrugged, smug expression painted across his stupid face. 

“Nope, wouldn’t want to make you late.”  I was tempted to slap the sardonic smirk right off his face, but opted instead to leave him alone in the kitchen.

I took a quick shower and made myself look presentable as possible, changing into work clothes and grabbing my bag before quickly escaping out the front door.  I didn’t feel like running into Calum again after his wonderful wake up call.

Work was busy in the beginning, and Roger and I struggled to keep up for a while.  But our rhythm from yesterday finally kicked in, and with each drink I served I felt more and more confident.  When the rush ended, the two of us high-fived and let out triumphant exhales of relief.

“You know, Scarlett, you and I make a good team.”

I grinned at Roger, overjoyed at how quickly I was picking up new skills.  I just hoped Mack was impressed enough to give me the job in two weeks.

Before I could answer him, the bell jingled.  I recognized Jeremy’s chestnut hair immediately, and suppressed a squeal of excitement.  Just what I need, I thought giddily.

When Jeremy approached the counter I made sure to look calm and collected.  He smiled that winning smile, and I felt my knees go weak.

“Told you I’d be back,” he said.

“What can I mess up for you today?  A latte maybe?  I’m getting good at screwing those up,” I informed him with a laugh, and I was glad to see the crinkles by his eyes return.

“Actually,” he began, making my heart somersault with worry.  “I’m not here for coffee.  I’m here for you.”

My eyebrows shot up, and I hoped my face didn’t betray my secret exhilaration.

“Really?” I responded, pressing my lips together.  “And why is that?”

“Normally, I take girls out to places like this on a first date,” he said, and I was hanging on to every word.  “But seeing as you’re probably sick of it, how ‘bout we skip that part and go straight to dinner?”

My face broke into a wide smile, and I was almost too excited to reply.  “That’s really considerate of you,” I joked.  “Dinner sounds amazing.”

Jeremy actually looked relieved, like he was nervous I’d say no.  As if anyone could say no to that face.

“Great, that’s great.  How about tonight?  I’ll pick you up at 8.”

“Sure, give me your phone and I’ll add my number.”  He passed it over, and I fought to keep my fingers steady.  Handing it back, we smiled at each other like idiots.

“See you tonight, Scarlett,” he said, and I watched him disappear out of the cafe all the way down the street.

I turned to see Roger gaping at me like I had three heads.

“What?”

“How come no one hits on me like that?” he pouted.  

I tapped my cheek in contemplation.  “Maybe it’s those spike earrings?  They’re wildly intimidating.”

Roger snorted, and waved his hand at me dismissively.  “Oh shut up.  You’re about to bounce of the walls you’re so happy.”

“Hell yeah I am.”

[kaytrovert-blog]

I keep reaching out and letting people back into my life that are meant to stay out of it

Just for peace sake

But they're so stupid ehn...

Acting like I can't live without em

Chai

Na me fuck up😑

[ladyofpurple]

answer all of the questions!!

holy SHIT ok bless you omg

(sorry it's a full day late i took this shit SERIOUSLY. don't ask me how many hours this took, i was in A Mood™️ last night. removed the ones already answered xoxo)

angel; have you ever been in love?

yeah. didn't end too well, but i loved him.

petal; favorite novel and author?

this is like asking me to pick a favorite child. i guess favorite author would be stephen king, if only based entirely on the sheer quantity of his books i own alone. favorite book would probably be special topics in calamity physics by marisha pessl, and i'm only saying that because it's been my go-to response for years. i have lots of favorite books. ask me again in five minutes and i'll give you another one.

honey perfume; favorite perfume/scent?

freshly made coffee. lilacs. jasmine. cut grass. the ground after it rains. chocolate chip cookies in the oven. cigarette smoke on skin. my mom's shampoo. my grandma. my dog when he's just had a bath. thanksgiving dinner. acrylic paint on canvas. sawdust. that one cologne i can't name but can smell on a guy from a mile away. mulled cranberry and apple juice. vanilla. coconut. fresh laundry. peppermint.

sweet pea; what’s your zodiac?

virgo sun, pisces moon, scorpio rising ✨

softie; talk about your sexuality.

i'm biromantic asexual, primarily attracted to men more than women (but have had too many crushes on girls to consider myself het), generally sex repulsed when it comes to the thought of having it myself. i prefer to call myself queer in passing conversation, it's easier than explaining asexuality and the differences between sexual and romantic attraction. if someone asks more specifically, i'll usually just call myself bi for simplicity's sake, even though the ace part is a much more important (to me) part of my identity. monogamous as fuck.

i'm still struggling with internalized homophobia and a lot of "am i even queer enough" thoughts, which is super fun. took me a long time to even consider the fact that i might like girls at all. i'll probably never come out to my parents. not that they'd, like, disown me or whatever, but they're juuuuust homophobic/transphobic enough that my few attempts to educate them when they say something A Little Yikes have shown me that i should probably just stay in the closet unless i absolutely have to come out. like i'm getting married to a woman or something.

sugarplum; what’s the color of your eyes and hair?

i usually say my eyes are green because it's easier, and they mostly are, but i have rings of greyish blue around the irises and sometimes they're more hazel in the middle. they always have a green tint to them though, even if the intensity of the green varies.

my natural hair is brown, a little on the darker and slightly ashy side of completely generic. currently a former blonde, although i'm hoping to bleach my fucking YEAR of growout soon, and then go some crazy color as a last hurrah before i have to go dark again. being broke fucking sucks.

wings; coffee or tea?

tea!! black tea. chai, to be specific, with an irresponsible amount of milk and sugar. chai lattes are a fucking drug okay? coffee makes me sick (not a judgement, a literal fact. last time i tried some i threw up).

fairytale; are you a cat or dog person?

cat!! but my family has a chihuahua named sonny and you can pry that little monster from my cold dead hands ok i will fight you.

snowflake; favorite time period?

okay, i wrote and rewrote my answer to this about 10 times. then i tried to divide it up into categories (aesthetics, history, fashion, vibes, geographical location, etc), but that didn't help. so basically: i don't have one, because i have too many.

i like the american 20s-60s for the aesthetic, music/movies, and the fashion. i also like the european 1600s-1800s for the interesting history and also vibe. i love the french and russian revolutions — the fashion! the art! the wars and political upheaval! I FUCKING LOVE HISTORY. then, of course, we can't forget the rennaisance. or the witch trials (pick your continent). and ancient greece? the roman empire? hello?? did i mention empires? how bout we mosy on over to south america — can i interest you in the mayans? incans? aztecs? what about china and japan? korea? vietnam? and don't even get me fucking STARTED on the black plague.

ancient egypt? sign me the FUCK UP. vikings? yes please. the celts? oh boy. the MYTHOLOGY. the ARCHITECTURE. the LANGUAGES and POLITICS and LITERATURE and REVOLUTIONS and GOD HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CHOOSE BETWEEN ANY OF THESE

i uh. might have gotten a little excited. basically i like history a lot. and mythology. and linguistics. and cultural practices. and the politics and prejudices behind wars and stuff. and learning in general. moving on.

vanilla; do you believe in ghosts?

let's put it this way: i don't not believe in ghosts??

listen. we don't know jack shit. we don't know what happens after we die, there are constant scientific revelations that turn our understanding of the universe completely upside-down, and there is literally no way to know which religions or myths or urban legends could have some grain of truth to them. like, dude, i've literally thought i was haunted before. psychology is bananas and the universe is infinite.

demons could be real. ghosts could be real. what if we just haven't invented the necessary technology to prove it yet? what if we never do, and they just fuck around alongside us, moving furniture and making shadow puppets on the walls just for kicks until the earth explodes? what if that one tumblr post was right and ghosts are actually real people from alternate universes or timelines that we see accidentally bc some cosmic wires got crossed? who fucking knows.

i love horror movies and scary stories and ghost hunter shows just as much as the next gal. but listen. psychics? mediums? people who accept every single creepypasta retold third-hand from their neighbor's kid's classmate's second cousin who "totally knows a guy"? doubt.jpeg

i don't understand the sheer amount of assumptions made willy-nilly about the nature of ghosts and demons and things that go bump in the night. the assumption that "oh this machine that totally doesn't look like a coathanger taped to a walkman will work because ghosts have this temperature and can always communicate like this and are electromagnetic" or whatever just baffles me. to a certain degree, following a general consensus is one thing — some basic things everyone can agree on? that's cool. ghosts can walk through walls and are probably dead people or whatever. but oh my god, taking every single story as absolute, undeniable proof?? taking these stories and expanding on them to infer intentions and scientific facts to something that by it's very nature is unknowable and assuming, like, every spirit is created equal?? and yeah, ghost hunting shows are fun and campy and kinda creepy but like. you really, genuinely don't think any of them have ever faked anything at all??? even if ghosts are real, it's fucking reality tv, my dude. it's the entertainment industry. at least maintain the slightest ounce of critical thought before taking zak bagans' word as the goddamn gospel.

and sidenote, maybe it's just my limited exposure as a white woman in the western world, but of all the shows and podcasts and movies and documentaries and whatnot i've been able to find and consume, there's the constant use of christian ideology applied to every situation that just really burns my bacon. what, there's never been an atheist ghost? if you see a shadow person and you don't know the lord's prayer by heart, are you automatically fucked? why are there never stories about, i don't know, viking ghosts? does your religion in life preclude you from becoming a ghost in the first place? is that why people never mention buddhist ghosts? i don't get it, and that's why even though i'm self-admittedly the most superstitious person i've ever met, true believers make me roll my eyes so hard they almost fall out. makes me come across as more skeptical than i theoretically am. I HAVE VERY STRONG FEELINGS ABOUT THIS OK

but like, you couldn't pay me to fuck with a ouija board. i'm not stupid.

delicate; diamonds or pearls?

both have their appeal and their place, but diamonds, i guess. i like the sparkle. but fake ones!! or synthetic. diamonds are overpriced and artificial scarcity is a scam and i don't need a dumb rock that some poor person in a mine somewhere was exploited and possibly died for. no blood diamonds in this house, thank you very much.

if i ever get engaged, i don't want a diamond ring. i'd want something cool, a little unusual, like a ruby or a sapphire or some other sparkly gem that isn't literally shoved in your face every waking moment as the expected standard symbol of True Love. they're cheaper, they're cool-looking, as a ring they still hold the cultural symbolism of an engagement/wedding ring. and honestly, as long as it's well-made and durable, whatever hypothetical gem it is doesn't have to be real either. i'm a woman of simple needs and demonstrably low standards. no point in going into debt for a fucking piece of jewelry, regardless of ~tradition~.

lavender dream; favorite album?

oh lord. welcome to the black parade, i guess. or anything by panic! at the disco. there are dozens of possible options — my interests are mercurial and my memory is garbage. but i'll always be an emo little shit. black parade and vices and virtues were also the first two albums i ever listened to where i loved every single song on them, and i happened to listen to them for the first time at around the same point in my life (i got into mcr super late. like, 2012 late. rip).

silky; what’s your biggest dream?

it's cheesy but i guess i just want stability and, by extension, happiness. emotional stability, mental stability, financial stability, stable living situation, stable routines, stable relationships... you get the idea. i have ambitions and passions, of course, but my ultimate goal is happiness at this point in my life, and i'm pretty sure stabilizing all those things would go a pretty long way in achieving that goal.

a little apartment with walls i can paint because white walls make me angry. bookshelves and posters and fandom merch on every wall. a computer i can actually play games on again, and somewhere i can paint and draw and record my podcasts. someone who loves me, maybe. a cat, if i'm stable enough. space for people to come visit me, and a place for them to sleep if they need. a tiny balcony, if i really want to shoot for the stars. a job i don't hate. the spoons to hang out with my friends, and the money to not worry about buying little presents for the people i care about sometimes. i don't need much.

strawberry kiss; do you have a crush right now?

nope.

glitter; favorite fictional character?

another loaded question. like books, if you ask me again in five minutes i'll probably give you a different answer. but in this particular moment, caleb and jester from critical role (please don't make me choose between them). i won't go full shipping mode rn, but jester is so funny and silly and sweet, so much more complex than she seems, and she tries so hard to make everyone happy even when she's so sad inside. the healer who treats healing as an inconvenience in battle (she's so fucking valid and also mood), the glue that keeps the party together. and caleb learning to trust again, facing his trauma and coming out of his shell. he loves his friends so much he plays wizard as a support class and i love him so much.

i love the mighty nein in general, of course, and all the guests/honorary members they've had. pumat!! pls don't be evil reani!! keg!! shakäste and grand duchess anastasia!! cali!! kiri!!!! the brotps! empire siblings! chaos crew! nott the best detective agency! i still love molly and all his assholery to bits (fight me), and mourn his lost potential. i adore yasha, even when she's gone; fjord has grown so much; beau and nott and caduceus — i love all their flaws and disagreements and their character arcs and the excitement of watching them grow and learn. but if i had to choose, caleb, jester and molly have always been my top 3 since day 1 and, well, molly isn't really an option anymore.

but like i said, ask me again in a minute. i have a fucking list.

swan; share a quote or passage that means something to you.

a collection of things off the top of my head:

Elinor agreed to it all, for she did not think he deserved the compliment of rational opposition. — Sense and Sensibility, Jane Austen

a tired feminist Mood™️

"What I say is, a town isn't a town without a bookstore. It may call itself a town, but unless it's got a bookstore, it knows it's not foolin' a soul." — American Gods, Neil Gaiman

i got my love of books from my grandma — some of my favorites i got from her. sometimes, as a treat, she used to take my sister and i to bookstores and we'd stay there for ages, getting to pick one out, roaming the shelves, the mental torture of having to choose. the peace of being surrounded by thousands of potential worlds, so much information, so many stories just waiting to be told; being surrounded by strangers who share that same wonder. the anxious drive home so we could read them, being unable to wait that long so i inevitably start reading in the car and make myself sick. telling her in excited detail all my favorite parts. if we were lucky, maybe we got to split a bear claw, or she'd drive past starbucks and get us something there too (tall vanilla soy steamer with one pump of vanilla syrup, whipped cream on top that always melted too quickly and squirted out the hole in the lid, so hot it burned my tongue but so good i didn't care). i have never felt more at home than i do when i'm surrounded by books.

"There are a lot of different types of freedom. We talk about freedom the same way we talk about art, like it was a statement of quality rather than a description. “Art” doesn’t mean good or bad. Art just means art. It can be terrible and still be art. Freedom can be good or bad, too. There can be terrible freedom. You freed me, and I didn’t ask you to." — Alice Isn't Dead, season 1, chapter 2: Alice

as cringey as it is to admit it, this line made me cry a lot after my breakup.

"So you aren't American?" asked Shadow.

"Nobody's American," said Wednesday. "Not originally. That's my point." — American Gods, Neil Gaiman

[side-eyes white america real hard]

there's more, of course. there's always more. don't even get me started on song lyrics, we'll be here all day.

lace; what’s your favorite plant/flower?

lilacs and roses.

mermaid; do you prefer the forest or the ocean? why?

both, i guess. but in different ways, and in different circumstances.

the sea is wild. it is endless and deep and unknowable. it is beautiful and dangerous. i am terrified of the ocean, and yet my favorite place in the world is an empty beach on the oregon coast. i have picked sand from between my toes for days with hair crusted in salt, danced around bonfires and watched the stars while marshmallows burn, gotten pulled under the waves as a child and nearly swept out to sea. picked starfish and crabs from small pools in the rocks, and swum (accidentally) with wild sea lions. in a long skirt, too early in the year to be swimming, i once took off my shoes and waded fully clothed into the water to my waist and just... danced. splashed and kicked and laughed with a boy i barely knew until our throats were sore and our toes were numb, walking home hours later with our soaked clothes clinging to our legs, shoes squelching, dripping algae as we went. the ocean is freeing and overwhelming all at once. i love it and am petrified by it in equal measure.

the forest is beautiful in a different way. it is silent and dense and serene. you are surrounded by life and yet, somehow, completely alone. there is magic in the forest, and history, and even when all else dies, that will remain. the trees grow from the corpses of their ancestors, and some have lived dozens of our lifetimes — with luck, a few dozen more. it is quiet there, peaceful, even the tiniest wood in the middle of a city muffling the outside world through the trees. you can feel the ancient ways deep in your soul as you follow winding paths strewn with fallen leaves, the mystery and wonder and superstitions of your forefathers. you wonder what it would be like, to run your fingers over the moss, to take off your shoes and socks and just run, leaping and dancing over rocks and roots, hair wild and air filling your lungs in deep, pure gulps as you shed the responsibilities and struggles of modern life, for just a moment remembering what freedom tastes like. it is primal, this connection to nature, one we have nearly forgotten over time. and as the sky grows dark and the silence of night presses against you, shadows looming, every footfall deafening, perhaps you begin to understand why some believed in monsters.

honeymoon; do you keep a journal?

i used to. honestly, that's a good idea, i should start doing that again. lord knows i have enough empty journal-type books.

starlight; do you believe in love at first sight and soulmates? why/why not?

i want to. i want to believe there's someone out there for me, the love of my life, someone to whom i'll be the love of their life, and that when i meet them i'll just... know.

but when i met my ex, i didn't really look twice at him for a while — no love at first sight. and when we were together, when i loved him and he swore he loved me back, i thought he hung the stars in the sky and knew i would marry him someday. couldn't even consider the idea that that wouldn't happen. and then when he broke up with me, he ghosted me so suddenly and thoroughly that he even preemptively cut contact with every single one of our mutual friends he thought might side with me in the breakup, before anybody even knew we'd had a fight. so, not soulmates either.

i really want to believe that someday the perfect romance will just fall into place and i can have the happily ever after i've always dreamed of. but the reality is i might never even have another s.o. for the rest of my life. maybe i'll get hit by a car tomorrow, or my hypothetical soulmate moves to argentina to become an alpaca farmer on a mountain somewhere and we never even meet. maybe i'm so traumatized by the betrayal and lies that i'll never have the courage to even try again.

and even so, happily ever after doesn't have to include a fairytale romance, regardless of whether i want it or not. i still like to cling to that hope though, deep down.

princess; what do you value most in people?

i'm going to assume you mean "real people" as in people i have positive relationships with, and not random strangers on the street.

loyalty. kindness. support. humor. similar values. patience. being able to grow together and teach each other things, so we can make each other better. honesty. trust. compassion. confidence. emotional vulnerability. communication. intelligence, or at least a willingness to learn. strength.

[alloverthegaf]

So you said you wanted prompts so here's one I tried to write but never did because I'm not a good writer and also I'm lazy: *So the idea is that person A is a barista and person B learns A's hours and come in specifically to see A and order something complicated and annoying. And give A a hard time. But today, A is already having a bad time.* anyway if you want to try that haha

I like it and it’s perfect for Merthur which is not something I generally write but hopefully @dementorsatemysoup will get a kick out of it?

There’s a lot of swearing, mostly a horrendous abuse of the word ‘asshole’, and it cuts off very abruptly because it kept going longer than I meant it to and I ran out of patience lmao but hopefully you like anyway

The first time the Handsome Asshole, as he comes to be known in Merlin’s head, enters the cafe where he works is something of a prophecy for how their relationship is destined to go. He steps up to the counter, six people waiting in line behind him, and proceeds to order quite possibly the most complicated, douchiest beverage Merlin has ever had the displeasure of making. He lists off no less than eight modifications for his coffee, and though Merlin has two years of practice with his customer service smile, he can feel it getting tighter with every specification. Clearly, the Asshole who is Handsome is oblivious to Merlin’s - and his other customers’ - impatience, because he then goes back and lists it all again to make sure he hasn’t missed anything. Merlin assures him, through gritted teeth, that he’s got it all written down and will take extra care not to forget anything, and takes a moment to compose himself before he takes the next person’s order.

Despite the unfairly attractive man - tall, toned and beautifully blond - being an unequivocal douchebag, Merlin does his best to get the ludicrous order right, but they’re understaffed, it’s 8am, and there’s a horde of uni students who are about five minutes away from moaning for brains.

He gets the order wrong, and boy does he fucking hear about it.

It doesn’t stop the man from coming back, though. Two days later he’s back, this time at 4 in the afternoon, and Merlin could swear his face lights up with evil glee when he sees who’s behind the counter.

“Think you can get it right this time?”

Now, Merlin understands that the main reason he even has this job is because his uncle runs the place. He’s very grateful to Gaius for hiring him, and he knows that every time he mouths off to a customer it’s Gaius that has to hear about it. He never actually means to bite anyone’s head off, but he’s never been so great at keeping his mouth shut around bullies and the “think you can not be a prat this time?” slips out of his mouth before he’s even processed the words in his head.

Handsome Asshole’s eyes widen to saucer size and while a part of Merlin is panicking and already trying to think of a way explain this to his uncle, the rest of him is doing a mental self-five. He wishes he had his phone on him to take a photo of the guy’s expression. Maybe he’d print it out. Stick it on one of the front windows.

In the end, he doesn’t get abused. The man orders a flat white with two sugars and doesn’t say another word, but he stays as he drinks his coffee, and Merlin swears he can feel eyes on him the entire time. He waits, afterwards, for the inevitable dressing down from Gaius, but it never comes. Asshole must not have complained after all. Huh.

Maybe he realised he was being a prat after all.

But then, one week later, Handsome Asshole is back and apparently determined to up the ‘Asshole’ levels. His order seems twice as complicated as the first one, and he changes his mind about what syrup he wants about three times. Every time he does so, his smirk grows just a little wider, a little bit more smug, and Merlin can practically feel his blood levels rising. He considers getting it wrong on purpose, just to inconvenience him, but it’s pretty clear by this point he’s just being difficult on purpose so Merlin devotes every ounce of his concentration to making it perfect.

Judging by the surprised look on Handsome Asshole’s stupid handsome face, he succeeds. Mentally, he starts a tally in his head. Counting their first meeting, he sees it as 2 - 1 with him in the advantage. It’s his turn to smile smugly. Asshole looks at him with something like contemplation.

From there the pattern is set. At least three times a week Handsome Asshole - or HA for the times when Merlin’s too busy to properly mentally insult him - comes in and orders something ludicrous. It’s different every time, and every time Merlin makes sure he gets it just right. It comes to the point where Merlin neglects other customers’ orders in sake of HA’s, and as soon as he realises this he curses the man, but he can’t seem to make himself stop. Every time the man sips his coffee, or tea, or iced double whip soy latte with extra foam and two straws, and that expression crosses his face, Merlin feels like it’s a win.

Then comes the Very Bad Not So Good Day, as Gwen refers to it, or Absolute Shitfest, as Merlin prefers. It’s exam time for the uni students, and their milk wand is playing up, and a toddler knocks her babycino (and why is that a drink, Merlin thinks as he’s hurriedly mopping it up, just give her a goddamn juice box), and then a woman wearing gold and pearls like a bird that’s collected too many shiny things for its nest yells at Gwen and very nearly makes her cry, and Merlin has just. Had it. With this day, with this job, with humanity in general, Merlin is done, and he’s trying to gather the strength to last the two hours he has left of his shift while squeezing Gwen’s hand in comfort when the Asshole - because Merlin’s not feeling charitable enough for the ‘Handsome’ part today - strolls in like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Merlin takes a deep breath, lets go of Gwen’s hand with a final squeeze, and steps up to the register. He stands tall as Admittedly Still Maybe Slightly Handsome Asshole walks up to the counter and opens his mouth to no doubt make his day twenty times harder, and Merlin just snaps.

“No.”

Asshole stares at him. “Excuse me? No?”

“No.” Merlin knows he should backpedal, excuse himself, just take the damn coffee order and spit in it when no one’s looking like any normal person would do, but he’s started now and he can’t seem to stop his mouth forming the words. “No, I will not make your skinny cap with three sugars and an extra half shot, or your mochachino at precisely 82 degrees temperature and four marshmallows, no, you don’t get a half-water chai latte with no foam and a dash of vanilla, no, okay, no. I’m done. I have had the day from hell, I am tired, my friend is crying in the back, and I’m about two seconds from throwing a mug at someone’s head, so no.” He breathes in, long and deep, and lets it out, taking advantage of the stunned silence. “I’m willing to do a flat white. One regular, plain, no frills flat white. I may throw in a spoon of sugar if you agree in the next five seconds.

To his utter shock, the man nods. “Okay.” Suddenly, it’s Merlin’s turn to stare. The man’s looking serious for about the first time since he ever stepped foot in this cafe, and is watching Merlin with dark eyes, calm and composed.

“Okay,” repeats Merlin dumbly, “okay.” He turns to start the very simple, very plain, very… boring coffee order.

“Is your friend okay?”

“What?”

Handsome Asshole cocks his head in gentle enquiry, and fuck, fuck if Merlin has stop calling him Asshole then all he’s got left is Handsome and he can not deal with that - “you said your friend’s crying. What happened?”

“Oh,” Merlin says, confused and unsure where to step in the face of this suddenly caring and apparently nice man, “uh, yeah, she uh - just, a customer was really awful to her, a few minutes ago.”

“I’m sorry,” is the man’s answer, and okay, what?

“Seriously? You’re sorry?” Merlin sets the mug down on the counter with a hard clunk and the man flinches as the coffee spills over the sides. “You’re sorry? You’ve been making my life hell since the moment you came in here but someone else gives one of us crap and now you’re sorry?”

“To be fair, I’ve only ever given you crap. I’m always nice to Gwen.”

Merlin throws his arms up wildly. “Oh, well, in that case.”

He hears an inelegant snort and stares at Very Handsome Asshole who is poorly hiding a grin behind one hand. Merlin channels his Uncle Gaius and raises a very unimpressed eyebrow. “Okay, seriously, what’s the deal? Why have you got it in for me?”

“I don’t,” is the reply, as the man lowers his hand but leaves the grin in place. “Not, uh, not like that, anyway.”

And that - that just makes no sense to Merlin, who responds with a very eloquent “what?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this but you’re incredible entertaining when you get all riled up.” Merlin opens his mouth to give an improvised but impassioned lecture on the morals of riling up service people for fun when he quickly adds “and cute.”

Merlin thinks something in his brain has fallen out of place. “What?” he says again, because apparently that’s what his vocabulary has shrunk to.

“Your ears get very red,” the man says, and the high points of his cheeks seem to flush in sympathy. “And your eyes get kind of wild and you start biting your lip and, uh.” He rubs the back of his neck. It’s the first time Merlin has ever seen him act self-conscious. “Well. Couldn’t help myself, I suppose.”

Merlin stares at him. And stares. The staring goes on for so long that the coffee sitting ignored between them goes cold. Finally, as if only just managing to register what was said, he exclaims “you’ve pissed me off for near three months because I’m cute?!”

Some of the other patrons look over curiously at the rise in volume. Handsome Man shifts uncomfortably under the sudden scrutiny. “I’ve been told I’m not so good at flirting.”

“You think?”

[mattholicguilt]

Femslash February - Feb. 4 : Café

X-Men - Generation X - Jubilee/Monet

They’re shopping in downtown Snow Valley, stopping at a boutique so Monet can buy some new shoes, stopping at a cutesy little shop so Paige can buy notepads and pencils. Jubilation leads the charge, chattering nonstop about something Everett said or Emma’s new hairstyle or what Artie and Leech have gotten up to lately.

Sometimes Jubilee talks so much it’s like she takes up all the oxygen. Monet used to find it annoying, stifling… but she’s come to think of Jubilee’s nonstop babble as a kind of comforting backdrop. Like elevator music.

“So anyway, I told Angelo—”

“Ooh, hold that thought,” Paige says, throwing out one arm to stop Jubilee in her tracks. Across the street a coffee shop is luring them in with big comfy-looking couches and the faint aroma of cinnamon lattes. “I’d kill for a coffee right about now. You girls in?” Monet’s about to say Hell yeswhen she notices Jubilee shaking her head furiously.

“No, nuh-uh, we don’t need to go there,” she huffs, walking faster, trying to lead them down the sidewalk and away from the café. “Why don’t we just finish shopping and then we can all have hot cocoa at home, huh?”

“No, I kind of want a coffee,” Monet says, looking over her shoulder at the coffee shop. “Let’s just go in.”

“NO,” Jubes says, absolutely adamant. “I, um, I heard that place has bugs. Like, everywhere. They would’ve gotten a D on their health inspection but they bribed the health inspector. Real shady stuff. We could go somewhere else?”

“This place is right here,” Paige argues. She hooks an arm around Jubilee and drags her across the street.

“Yeah, what’s your problem?” Monet huffs, and even though she meant it in an irritated fashion, it still comes out a little meaner than she wanted it to sound. Jubilee is immature and loud and occasionally obnoxious… but she genuinely looks horrified at the prospect of walking into this stupid café. Maybe they should rethink the decision.

Too late, Paige pulls open the door and steps outside. The wave of warmth and the smell of freshly brewed coffee that wafts forward erases any doubts or misgivings from Monet’s mind. The place has a funky, almost retro vibe to it. There’s even a Ms. Pac-Man machine in the back, which should totally be Jubilee’s thing. How is she not all over this place?

Jubilee, instead of looking around the coffee shop, jumps behind Monet like she’s hiding. “Are you serious?” Monet scowls, turning around to glare at Jubilee.

That’s when the guy behind the counter with the yellow-green hair perks up. “Jubes! What’re you doin’ here on your day off?”

“Day off?” Paige asks, whirling around. She’s practically got little cartoon question marks in her eyes.

“H-hey, Kev,” Jubilee says weakly, waving from behind Monet. “Oh, I was just shopping with my friends. This is Paige, and Monet,” she introduces, pointing to them. She looks furious but also trying to keep her cool for the sake of her— coworker? Boss?

“Fun, fun,” Kev says, drumming on the counter with his knuckles. He’s got a tattoo of David Bowie climbing up his left forearm. “What can I get you ladies?”

Paige spares one last confused look at Jubilee and then turns to skim the specials board. “I’ll have the house blend with half-and-half and sugar,” she says, reaching for her wallet.

Monet orders a latte with whipped cream and Jubilee gets a cappuccino. Kev gives them all the employee discount, which only makes Jubilee’s face get even redder. Once they finally sit down, Paige clearly can’t hold it in any longer.

“You work here?”

“Well… in a sense,” Jubilee says, hunching her shoulders in as she blows on her cappuccino. It looks like she’s trying to use the big mug to hide her face.

“What sense would that be?” Monet asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, ya know,” Jubilee sighs, staring into her cappuccino like she’s thinking of drowning herself. “I, um, I make coffee and serve it to people, and in exchange for, like, helping out, the manager pays me money.”

“So you work here.”

“Yeah I guess I could’ve just said that,” she mutters, looking out the window, looking at the floor, looking anywhere but at Paige and Monet. “It’s not a big deal. That’s why I didn’t tell anybody.”

“And that’s why you tried to run away when we suggested coming in here?” Monet asks, crossing her arms. “I don’t get it. So you have a part-time job. Why is that some huge secret?”

Jubilee glowers. “I don’t have a rich father, okay?” she says. “I don’t… I don’t even have a father, or a mother. I don’t have any parents sending me any money, and I don’t have my big brother’s X-Force stipend to support me,” she says, looking in turn at Monet and then Paige. “For me to be able to afford to go out shopping with you guys… I have to work.”

They sit in silence for a moment, the only sound the crackly hum of old John Denver songs over the café stereo system.

Then Paige says, “You didn’t have to hide it from us, Jubes. Heck, I detassel corn over the summers, that’s the only reason I got any money. Most of Sammy’s money goes back home to the kids and Momma.”

“What made you think we’d look down on you for going out and getting a job?” Monet says, her typical air of disdain scraped away in favor of something genuine. It’s so rare to see Jubilee actually act embarrassed about something. She usually takes everything in stride, playing off everything as a joke.

“I guess I just… I dunno,” Jubes sighs. “I’m used to getting shit from the townies about bein’ a mutant. I didn’t wanna get shit from you guys for working here.”

“Are you kidding? Jubilee, jeez, I’m proud of you,” Paige says. “This is great.”

“Yeah,” Monet agrees. “Who knew you could be responsible?”

Jubilee lobs a balled-up napkin at her, and things are less tense after that. They drink their drinks and talk about Banshee’s latest attempts to teach the kids to sew. He keeps trying to tell them that simple life skills like home ec matter just as much as honing their mutant abilities. So far, no one except Everett is really buying it.

Kev the Barista waves to them when they leave, telling Paige and Monet that it was nice to meet them.

And that might have been the end of it, except that Monet shows up at the start of Jubilee’s lunch break during her shift the next day.

“What are you doin’ here?” Jubes asks, slipping her apron on a hook behind the counter.

“I thought you might be hungry,” Monet suggests, and while her words are helpful the tone (and expression) come off as mischievous. “So… I brought you an apple,” she says, holding up a shiny Gala apple.

“Oh, you think you’re a fucking comedian, don’t you?” Jubilee says, but she’s grinning. When Monet was trapped in her Penance body, Jubilee used to bring her apples all the time. And now Monet’s returning the favor. “Gimme that, it might be good to eat somethin’ healthy. All I eat when I’m here is muffins and croissants.”

Monet tosses her the apple and sits in the seat by the window, gesturing for Jubilee to sit with her. “Good to know,” she says. “Next time I’ll bring you a salad or a pot pie or something.”

“Next time?” Jubilee says.

“Of course,” Monet says, and when she leans forward and puts a hand on Jubilee’s knee, Jubes could swear her heart stops for a second. “Unless you’d really rather hang out with townies all day,” she smirks.

Her big brown eyes are regarding Jubes warmly, and her voice is lower than normal, like she completely knows the effect she has on Jubilee. Jubilee ruins the moment by taking a big bite of her apple, munching and crunching.

“Well, thanks,” she says, purposely speaking with her mouth full because she knows it annoys Monet. The other girl is maybe-sort-of-kind-of flirting with her, and Jubes only knows how to flirt back one way: by annoying her.

Monet shows up every day that Jubilee works, bringing her lunch and chatting with her during her breaks. Sometimes she brings a book and hangs out in that seat by the window, ordering chai tea lattes and reading while Jubes takes coffee orders.

One day, Jubilee’s coming out of the restroom after her shift and Kev calls her name. “Your girlfriend’s outside,” he says pleasantly, and Jubilee looks through the window to see Monet standing there in combat boots and a flowy sundress. Perfection.

“She’s not my—” Jubes starts, but then she cuts herself off. Is she? Jubilee doesn’t really know. “Thanks, Kev,” she says, and goes outside to walk home with Monet.

[prill-ocs]

i fucking did it here ya go my self indulgent basically 4k word First Time TM Meeku smut fic that had way more exposition than I intended

“What can I do to get it through his head…” Raku paced back and forth through the living room, with Reika and Cashew on the couch. They watched on as Raku seemed to be having some sort of crisis.

“Wellllllll…Why don’t you just - I dunno - be direct about it?” Cashew suggested.

“I sucked him off the other day! How much more direct can I get?!” Raku threw his hands up in the air.

“Oh my god.” Reika covered her ears and looked away. Her and Raku were close, but she did not need to know about his sexual endeavors with the town cryptid he’d been trying to woo for the past year or so.

“Look, you guys don’t seem to get it. I love the guy, but like…Meemo is kinda dense as fuck. I don’t think us doing intimate stuff or me hanging out with him more often is really…making it clear to him that I want us to be more than just fuckbuddies, y'know?” Raku paused. “Not that we’ve actually gone all the way…Do you still call that being fuckbuddies? Or is it blow buddies? Is that a thing?”

“Raku. Please.” Reika looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Right, sorry.” Raku cleared his throat. He stopped his pacing and plopped down on the couch between the other two. He let out a deep sigh as he sunk further into the cushion.

“Honestly, I think you’re just over complicating this! You say he’s dense, right? Then just straight up do a confession. Tell him you love him! He’d get it then, wouldn’t he?” Cashew made a kissy face, batting her eyelashes teasingly at Raku.

“Wha- No way! I think he’d combust from something that direct! He could barely even process when I was going down on hi- “

“I think,” Reika interrupted, “it’s at least worth a try. If you care about him that much, I think you need to let him know straight to his face.”

Raku looked unsure, eyebrows furrowed as he carefully thought about the challenge he was faced with. He knew Reika had a point, but he was also afraid of being rejected. Sure, Meemo probably reciprocated his feelings, but there was also the small possibility he didn’t; and that miniscule chance weighed heavily on Raku’s mind.

“Anyways, if it backfires, we’ll be here to cheer ya up!” Reika threw a stern glance at Cashew, which the latter replied to with a playful nudge to Raku. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. It’s obvious he’s got the hots for you – granted not as much as you have the hots for him – but! I know he at least likes you back; so, stop moping around already and get your man!” She gave Raku a quick slap on the back before getting up off the couch. To be honest, she wasn’t quite sold on that, seeing as how Meemo was so hard to read; but who was she to kick Raku when he was already down?

“Ow…” Raku let out another sigh, before sitting straight up. “Okay, fine, you’ve got me. I’ll do it. I’m expecting a top-notch pity party if this all blows up in my face, you guys got that? “

With that, Raku at least felt a little more confident in confronting Meemo. He’d committed himself to winning Meemo over for the past year, and by God, he was going to finish this off strongly.

*******************************

Unbeknownst to Raku, Meemo was having his own crisis. However, unlike Raku, it wasn’t like Meemo had a support system. Chai wasn’t exactly the optimal person to vent to about -dare he say it- feelings. Romantic feelings at that. No one taught him about this. How was he supposed to know how to deal with the quickening beat of his heart every time Raku got near him? How was he supposed to know if there was some deeper meaning to Raku sucking him off other than he just could?

“This is stupid.” Meemo grumbled as he buried his face into his pillow.

He couldn’t even pinpoint when he began to see Raku in a different light. Was it really so long ago when he considered him a pest? Raku at first was very subtle about his encounters with Meemo, but the occurrences became more frequent over time, much to Meemo’s chagrin. He didn’t think that over time, he’d come to tolerate Raku’s presence, and even -*gasp*- anticipate it. Fast forward to now, and the two of them were in this strange limbo area regarding their relationship.

“Maybe it��s just better if I don’t say anything…” Meemo rolled over onto his side and let out a startled yell after seeing who had entered his room.

“Meemo…?” Chai had walked into Meemo’s room, with the latter too deep into his thoughts to have noticed.  “You ‘kay…?” Chai peered up at Meemo with worried eyes.

“…Yes,I’m okay.” Meemo sat up and gave a reassuring pat on Chai’s head.

With Chai here, Meemo then thought about how Raku was good at handling Chai, and how Chai, who was usually so shy around people, seemed to be comfortable around Raku. It was definitely a plus to have them two get along so well. Meemo recalled how just the other day, they had gone to a park. Raku had picked Chai up and carried him up on his shoulders, smiling and laughing the whole way. The entire time, it was hard for Meemo to tear his eyes away from Raku, as he had looked so…radiant? Something like that. Meemo had nearly gotten a heart attack when Raku had noticed the other’s gaze, and he cocked his head to the side before playfully sticking his tongue out at Meemo.

“Ugh…I think I like Raku.” Meemo finally admitted out loud.

“Mm..me too! I like Raku lots too.” Chai beamed up at Meemo with a big grin.

Well then, if they were both in agreement here, maybe Meemo should just go ahead and let Raku know. How hard could it possibly be?

(Hard. It’d be very hard, as he would come to find out soon enough.)

*******************************

A couple of days passed after Raku had his pep talk with Cashew and Reika. Raku had asked if he could stay over at Meemo’s place while the other two did their part with by offering to babysit Chai for the day. Meemo was understandably suspicious at first, questioning what Raku wanted to even do with just the two of them alone.

“I dunno, I just want to have a sleepover. It’ll be fun!” was Raku’s excuse. Meemo was a little tense about it, unsure if this would escalate into another encounter of the sexual kind. Much to his ignorance, however, he accepted the offer, seeing this as an opportunity to tell Raku about his feelings; and while Meemo had his plan, Raku was preparing his own confession.

The pair made their way back to Meemo’s house, with Raku up to his usual antics and making jokes while Meemo stayed quiet, save for the occasional dry chuckle. The day continued on as usual for the most part. Meemo was never one to initiate conversations, so he’d let Raku run his mouth while he’d add his two cents occasionally. However, something did seem…different. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, and it was undeniable that there was some tension going on between them; and this was more noticeable once it reached evening, and things came to a lull.

Even if he appeared as aloof and jokey as usual, Raku felt like he was going to implode. Having things planned out in his head and having to actually execute said plan were two different things. He could just imagine Cashew taunting him right now for procrastinating.

“…I have to shit.” Raku suddenly announced. They were watching a movie, but he really couldn’t concentrate on it as he had his mind preoccupied with other things. He figured he could use this time to clear his mind before maybe finally making a move. Raku quickly got up and made his way to the bathroom.

Once Meemo was sure that Raku was out of the living room, he took a breath of relief. Finally, he could relax, if only for a little while.

“Okay…when he gets back, I’ll do it………Somehow.”

Back in the bathroom, Raku was spending his time hyping himself up as well. Now had to be the time, right? He wasn’t so sure he could go on the rest of the night with this kind of atmosphere. He looked at himself in the mirror, took a deep breath, and made his way back to Meemo.

When Raku got back to the living room, Meemo began to fidget in his seat. As soon as he sits back down, he thought to himself. Three…two…one…

“So-!” Meemo said, as did Raku……at the same time.

“Uh…go ahead.” Meemo kicked himself for backing down.

Raku recoiled at being put on the spot, but it was now or never.

“Well...” He scooted closer to Meemo. “Y’know…that thing we did last time. I, uh…Don’t do that to just anyone, alright?” Wow, this was off to a great start. “I mean…! We’ve been hanging out a lot more lately, and we’ve gotten a lot closer I’d say. A-and! I really like being around you.  All these feelings have been building up slowly and all that sorta culminated in me blowin’ ya.”

Raku couldn’t see it but dredging up memories of that was flustering Meemo beyond belief. A part of him just wished the couch would swallow him whole and get him out of this.

“Anyways, I’m getting side tracked here! “Raku put his hand on Meemo’s lap, which the other flinched at. “Meemo. Meems. Meemster. Meemeo—”

“Raku get on with it.”

“What! This is hard okay! “

“Just say that you like me already or else I’m going to have to say I like you first!”

“…”

“…Fuck.”

Raku’s face lit up and he grabbed Meemo by the shoulders and shook him.

“OhmygodMeemoyoulikemetooIwassoscaredIwastoopushylasttimeImeanIwasjustsofuckinghornylasttimeandIletthatgetthebestofmebutIdon’twantittoseemlikeI’mjustusingyoutosatisfymydeepcarnalneedsorwhateverthefucklikeIactuallyreallylikeyoualotand—”

“RAKU FOR FUCK’S SAKE.”

Raku withdrew his hands and let go of Meemo. “S-sorry…I just…I’m so relieved. I thought for sure you didn’t feel the same way…” He looked away and rubbed at his arm.

Meemo felt a twinge of guilt. “Raku…Don’t apologize. I…shouldn’t have raised my voice.” He took a second to compose himself. “It’s just weird for me, is all. It was just me for a long time, and then Chai came around, and then eventually…you. Everything’s so new to me, and feelings are already hard enough for me to deal with, but you just kept coming along throwing me curveballs and it really threw me for a loop. Honestly, can you blame me?”

A hand peeked out from his cloak and Meemo reached over to Raku’s face and cupped it gently.

“I…like you too. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t keep tolerating you like this.”

“Wooow, how romantic.” Raku couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle at how blunt that statement was.

“You- You know what I mean!”

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Raku leaned up and placed a swift kiss at Meemo’s mask.

“?!”

“So now that all that’s taken care of…We gonna do it or what cuz all that tension has got me worked up like no tomorrow.”

Meemo sighed. “Looks like I’m not the only one who needs to rethink what being romantic is all about.”

*******************************

Without a moment to waste, the pair found themselves in Meemo’s room. While Raku was raring to go, Meemo was more hesitant.

“I don’t know if you got this from what I was saying earlier, but I don’t have much experience, so you’re…going to have to guide me a little here. “He mumbled the last part, embarrassed to have to admit that.

“Oh, trust me, I got that, given how quickly you came undone the last time.” Raku said teasingly. “For now, why don’t we start off simple? But to do that, we gotta get this,” he took a step forward and tapped at Meemo’s mask, “outta the way.”

“…I suppose.”

Raku had already seen Meemo without his mask once before, so it wasn’t that big of a deal anymore. Even so, there was still a trace of embarrassment, especially given the situation. At least Raku let Meemo take it off himself – he knew that Meemo was self-conscious without it, so he wouldn’t rush it. Meemo reached up and started by taking off his hood, revealing his messy hair, then undid the string of his mask. As he took the mask away, Raku stared up at Meemo.

“W-what?” Meemo retorted.

“Nothing~ Just admiring the sight.”

Before Meemo could have time to be flustered about that statement, Raku got even closer, placing a kiss on Meemo’s lips. Although taken aback, Meemo slowly but surely reciprocated the gesture, leaning into Raku’s touch. Raku wrapped his arms around the other’s neck, deepening the kiss. While Meemo was preoccupied with that, Raku was gradually leading themselves towards the bed. Once he reached it, he pulled away from the kiss, licking his lips as he looked at Meemo who was visibly more worked up now.

“Not bad. A little sloppy, sure, but we can work on that.” Raku winked at Meemo, as he went ahead and got onto the bed.

“Yeah,yeah.” Meemo replied, not really taking Raku’s jab to heart. Black tendrils went to work at disrobing Meemo of his cloak, as he crawled onto the bed as well, hovering over Raku.

“I’ve been meaning to ask this.” Raku said, as he began to undress as well, tossing his jacket, shirt, and pants off to the floor. “Are you like…technically always naked under your robe?”

Meemo rolled his eyes (how that was possibly seeing as he had no pupils was unclear, but a lot of things Meemo did seemed to defy logic). “No, don’t be ridiculous.” But if he was being completely honest with himself, even he didn’t know how it worked. His body was just this goopy, shadowy, mass. One that could sprout a dick when needed.

“Sure, if you say so.” Raku shrugged, knowing it’d be futile to press on.

“Anyways, what do you want me to do now…?” Meemo tilted his head to the side, genuinely curious.

“Hm…Well, I think now’s a good time than any to return the favor from last time. Buuut before that, help me get these off~” Sure Raku wanted to get to the good part, but he also wanted to tease the hell out of Meemo first.

Giving it some thought first, Meemo reached for the band of Raku’s underwear and tugged on it. He then looked at the fluffy mass that was Raku’s tails. It’d certainly be a hassle if he had to do this slowly, so without much warning, he yanked them off.

“Whoa-!” Raku flopped onto his back from the force Meemo used. “Geez, couldn’t be a little more graceful there?” He pouted.

Meemo held in a chuckle. “Sorry.”

“Nah, sorry won’t cut it, pal. Gotta apologize some other way.” Raku waggled his eyebrows with a smirk at Meemo and slowly spread his legs, displaying himself fully to the other.

Again, Meemo was at a loss, his brain frozen at the mere sight of Raku naked below him. Alright, fine, so maybe Raku had done a little too much teasing and had to take matters into his own hands – literally. Raku reached down to his nether regions, using his fingers to spread his lips.

“Remember what I said about returning the favor…?”

Meemo nodded absently, eyes fixated on Raku’s hand as he began to play with himself. Meemo scoot down the bed a bit, so he could lower himself and be level to Raku’s crotch. His eyes looked up to Raku, who was very much anticipating what would come next. Meemo kissed at Raku’s inner thigh, peppering small pecks until finally giving a tentative lick to Raku’s already slick entrance. As Meemo continued to test the waters, soft gasps were coming from Raku.

“Mmn…y-yeah, juuust like that.” He rested his hands on Meemo’s head, petting his hair reassuringly.

Seeing as how he had his hands full (or, well, mouth full) at the moment, Meemo couldn’t answer. He continued to lap at Raku’s lips, before beginning to prod his tongue in deeper. The more Meemo worked Raku up, the tighter Raku’s grip on Meemo’s hair got.

“Ah-!” Meemo had redirected his focus to Raku’s clit, teasing it with his tongue as he used a finger to slip back into Raku’s heat.  “Fffuck…Meemo, please.” For someone who didn’t have much experience, Meemo was doing one hell of a job.

With Meemo sucking here and there and his fingers slowly thrusting in and out, Raku was starting to come undone, his breathing becoming shallower as his legs began to tremble; but Raku didn’t want it to just end here. Not yet.

“M-Meemo…hey.” He tapped the other on his head.

Meemo stopped what he was doing and looked up. “Mm…Yes?”

“I think that’s enough of that. I want…somethin’ else now.” He adjusted his leg, so he could nudge his foot in between Meemo’s legs. “

“R…ight.”

Meemo leaned away so he could sit back. Shadowy wisps appeared at his crotch, slowly taking form as Raku watched on in fascination.

“I’m really gonna have to get used to that.”

When Meemo’s cock stood fully erect, Raku got up to move and straddle Meemo’s lap. Meemo gulped, being hyper aware of the other’s body pressing against him. Before moving on, Raku stole another kiss, this one needier than the last. When he got his fill, he pulled away, a trail of saliva connecting their lips.

“Hm hm…Here I go~” Raku reached down, giving Meemo’s shaft a few strokes before aligning it against his entrance. Meemo bit his lip as Raku lowered himself onto his hard cock.

“Nngh…It’s so…” Tight? Warm? Just overwhelming in general? It was definitely a very different sensation than being in a mouth, that was for sure. Meemo placed his hands on Raku’s hips, steadying the other as he began to move himself up and down, letting out sweet moans with each movement.

“You feel so good.” Meemo muttered, resting his head against Raku’s chest. He began to thrust up in sync with Raku, wanting to go deeper, feel more. He was torn between giving into his lust and going easy on Raku’s body.

“Meemo, I need it…Move faster, go harder, anything, please.” Raku whispered breathlessly into Meemo’s ear.

That was more than enough to flip Meemo’s switch as he swiftly pushed Raku back onto the bed. He had slipped out in the transition, so he took a moment to push himself back into Raku’s tight heat, savoring the warmth that enveloped him once more.

Meemo’s movements were a little more sporadic now that he was more in control in this position; but he gradually picked up a rhythm and quickened his thrusts. For the first time, he leaned down and initiated a kiss, letting his tongue thoroughly explore Raku’s mouth, as his mind was hazed over from pleasure. Raku was more than happy to oblige, moaning wantonly into the kiss as he was fucked harder and faster with each thrust.

“Meemo…Meemo…Haah…I can’t…!” He wrapped his arms around Meemo’s back, clinging on for dear life as he was reaching his climax. Meemo could also feel himself reaching that point, all the while panting and letting out sounds he never thought he’d make. He used a free hand to tend to Raku’s clit once more, his thumb rubbing in tantalizing circles as he continued to thrust into him.

Raku yelled out in ecstasy, not able to contain himself from the over stimulation. “Mmngh…Yes…A-ahh…Fuck…!” It didn’t take long before he was finally driven over the edge. Raku rode out his orgasm, his whole body trembling as he continued to grind against Meemo, trying to milk that feeling all the way through the end.

Meemo, in turn, let out a stifled groan as Raku tightened around him. That added pressure as well as the sweet, sweet sounds Raku was making brought Meemo to his climax. He pulled out just in time, spilling his cum over Raku’s chest and navel. With a shuddered breath, he laid down beside Raku, and the two of them remained wordless, their labored breaths echoing throughout the room.

“That…” Raku said when he finally caught his breath. “…Was fucking great.”

“Y-yeah?” Meemo turned his head to look at the other, still coming out of his post-orgasmic bliss.

“Mhm. You didn’t do such a bad job after all.” Raku swiped his finger over some of the cum on his chest, playing with it between his fingers.

Meemo felt his face heat up again. “Wait, let me go get some towels to-“

“No, no, it’s fine. Let’s just…enjoy this right now, okay? We’ll clean up in a bit.”

Raku scoot closer to Meemo, resting his head on his chest. “How about you? Didja enjoy yourself?”

“I mean, yes, of course. I thought that was pretty obvious, especially from how…unhinged I got towards the end, there.”

“Yep, ya really fucked me good.” Raku snickered. He was sure to replay the image of Meemo over him, succumbing to lust, over in his head for a long time coming.

They went silent again, just enjoying each other’s company. Raku was gently stroking a thumb over Meemo’s hand when Meemo mumbled something.

“Mmh? What was that?”

“…ve……y…”

“…Babe,I can’t understand what you’re sayin’.”

“I said.” Meemo made sure to look Raku in the eyes. “I…love you…”

“………” Raku blinked a few times, his cheeks heating up and sprouting a nice blush.

“Uh, Raku? …Was that too far? Should I not hav—”

“N-no! You just…you just do these things when I least expect it. My heart can’t take it, y’know?” Raku chuckled softly and shook his head. “I love you too, Meems.” He leaned up and pecked Meemo on the cheek. “So! Ready for the next round?”

“……I’m going to get those towels now.”

“Eh?! No, I was kidding, Meemo come back!!!”

*******************************

“Can we assume it went well?” Reika and Cashew stood at the doorway. They each looked at Raku, hair all disheveled and hickeys clearly visible on his neck, then to Meemo, who although was wearing his mask again, seemed to be giving off an air of guilt.

“Yeeep.” Raku gave the two a peace sign. “Mission accomplished. It’s a wrap, fellas. Etcetera, etcetera.”

Chai, who Reika had been carrying, was set down so he could be toddle on over to Meemo. Meemo wasn’t even sure he could look Chai in the eyes at the moment, not after all he did just the night before; but he knew he had to welcome him back. Meemo lifted Chai up, giving him a hug. “Did you have fun?”

“Mhm!”

“Welp, I best be hittin’ the ol’ dusty trail here. “ Raku went to join his sister and Cashew. “I’ll see ya soon, ‘kay? Love ya, darling.” He said with a wink, before turning on his heel and walking off, whistling all the while.

Reika and Cashew both shook their heads. If Raku had already been so transparent about his crush before, they knew he’d be ten times worse now that he and Meemo were officially together.

“…He’s really going to be the death of me.” Meemo mumbled, as he shut the door; but as he did, he found it hard to stop himself from cracking a small smile.

[samingtonwilson]

Ten Ways to Say “I love you” - Jim Kirk

Summary: There are a lot of ways to say something without actually saying it.

Warnings: language

A/N: a little long. also if jim kirk called me starlight, i’d probably cry n profess my love right then and there. forgive any n all typos. enjoy it and lemme know what you think! 

One

The absurdly bright lights lining the corridors of the Enterprise pricked your eyes— you were forced to squint as your legs carried you. The air pouring through the vents pinched any of your skin that remained unclothed. You flexed and contracted the oddly tired joints in your fingers— you could hear tiny pops and the soft sounds felt like battering rams against your eardrums.

You cursed yourself for two reasons: losing your left boot as the time-consuming search for it resulted in your inability to replicate a much needed mug of coffee, and drinking so much with Leonard the night before. While you accepted the former was entirely your doing, you split the blame on the latter— half of it was your fault, and half was Leonard’s. It’s those stupid puppy eyes, you told yourself.

You leant your shoulder against the transparent wall of the turbolift you solely occupied and crossed your arms over your chest. Your teeth were gritted— as if grinding your teeth to nubs would give you the day off and rid you of the heavy weight crushing your skull.

The doors slid open before your desired deck and you didn’t bother stifling a sigh that carried the weight of two starships. You dropped your gaze to glare at your scuffed boots rather than subject the new lift patron to your scowl and dagger eyes.

“Rough night?”

You lifted your head at the sound of his voice and met his eyes. You frowned immediately and nodded twice. “Bones and I had paperwork.”

“What would you say the ratio was this time?” he asked, his crossed arms rumpling the command gold fabric that was firmly stretched over his chest. He was smiling slightly in amusement as he took in your appearance— messy hair, half-zipped left boot, heavy lidded eyes.

You shrugged and eyed the ceramic mug in his hands. You could have moaned at the smell steaming out of it. “I’d say about two charts to one glass.”

“How many charts in total?”

“Fourteen each,” you winced at the revelation and took your eyes from Jim’s when the amusement painted his features red.

“Seven glasses of whiskey in one sitting,” he said with a laugh. “No wonder you look like that.”

You narrowed your eyes. “How dare you! I look adorable— like a celebrity running errands.”

“‘Cept you’re about to start an eight-hour shift.”

You sighed so your shoulders slumped. “My rough night’s turning into a rough morning— I didn’t even have time to replicate coffee because of my stupid missing boot.”

Jim glanced down at his mug and thrust it in your direction without thinking twice. “Take mine.”

Two

Just as you looked up from the stool you were perched atop, lips parted with the intention to call for your next patient, Jim strode through the agape door. He was smiling and the brightness touched his eyes.

When the door didn’t shut, he spun around to examine the control panel. He muttered something to himself when he noticed you had the automatic settings turned off, shutting the door with the manual pressing of a button as if it was so inconvenient to do so.

“How’d you know you were next?”

He shrugged and turned back to you, hopping onto the biobed. “Wanna get this over with. And even if I wasn’t your next patient, you can’t say ‘no’ to the captain.”

“I can say ‘no’ to whomever I please, Captain,” you replied pointedly.

He stayed silent for majority of the exam. He watched you as your tricorder scanned his torso, your teeth in your bottom lip and your eyes following the light the device emitted.

He smiled when you scowled and smiled when you smiled. He felt warm.

When, from a drawer, you pulled the hypo designed to draw blood— empty tube screwed into place— Jim lost his smile and replaced it with a smirk he hoped made him look calmer than he felt. “You know, I dreamt about you last night.”

You hummed. “Did you?”

He nodded truthfully, his eyes on your hand that pulled his arm so it was totally outstretched. When you poised the hypo below the fold of his elbow, he sighed and tried to cool himself with the softness of your touch. “Of course, there weren’t as many medical tools around.”

Three

You and Jim escaped Chekov’s latest shore leave blowout unscathed and not-so tipsy. The planet on which you were temporarily situated didn’t offer the most extensive supply of Federation-legal alcohol and the little you’d eaten throughout the day didn’t offer the best safety net in the event that the alcohol really showed why it was illegal.

Jim led you to what looked like a café. He narrowed his blue eyes at you when you refused.

“It’s late. Let’s just walk to the ocean and back, yeah?”

He wasn’t having it. He set his hand on the small of your back and ushered you through the doorway. “Be a good friend.”

When the smell of baked goods kissed your nose, you couldn’t help the small smile that reluctantly spread over your lips. And Jim beamed at that, continuing to push you with his palm until you reached the counter. “It’s an Earth food café. Found it during my first year as Captain when the Enterprise needed emergency repairs and this was the closest planet.”

“Even on other planets, you only want Earth food— says something about you.”

He quirked his left eyebrow. “And, pray tell, what does it say?”

“As much as you try to paint yourself as a spontaneous, impulsive man, you’re really just comfortable with familiarity.”

“Psychoanalyze me after you have some food in you. You barely ate all day.”

“Can’t help it if the only thing being offered to me is cabbage soup.”

“You can help it— s’not like you’re allergic, just picky.”

Once you sat across from Jim with an iced chai latte before you, you tried not to laugh as your gaze lingered on the small foam mustache his drink created over his lip.

He noticed you staring and nodded upwards.

You pointed at your own upper lip. “Got a little foam.”

He immediately dragged the back of his hand over the area, clicking his tongue.

“I thought it was nice. Let me know what you’d look like if Starfleet allowed creepy thin mustaches.”

“Hilarious,” he mumbled, breaking off a piece of his chocolate chip cookie that was possibly the size of your head. He practically moaned as he chewed, his voice thick as he said, “So good.”

You rolled your eyes and sat back in your seat. “You should get a room with that cookie.”

“I would get a room with the cookie. I’d marry this cookie, take it home to meet my ma.”

You laughed a little and shook your head, looking away from him for a moment.

“Have half.”

You brought your eyes back to Jim’s and tilted your head. “Thought you wanted to introduce it to your mother.”

“Partake in the experience, starlight. I can always get another one for my mother’s sake.”

Four

Ankles crossed atop the coffee table placed before the uncomfortable couch you had no way of snuggling into, you stared down at the screen of your PADD. You were supposed to be reading up on the patient just beamed on board from a poorly stocked medbay on a small Federation survey ship but the symbols before you were beginning to look unintelligible and there was nothing in the senior officers’ lounge that could help change that.

You head fell back against the rock solid couch cushions and your eyes began to flutter shut.

“There you are!”

Startled, your head jerked up and you groaned at the painful pull. You wrapped your hand around your neck and clicked your tongue as you met Jim’s bright eyes. “Christ sakes, Jim.”

He was grinning. “I’d apologize but the look on your face—”

“Did you need something?”

He fell onto the cushion beside you and sighed out, still smiling. “How was your day?”

You placed the tablet upon his lap. “Keep that far away from me or I’ll break it in half.”

With a snort, he tossed your PADD onto the armchair more than ten feet from you. It landed with a thud and Jim stared at its placement. “Chekov says we’re closing in on this nebula that could fuck up the gravity.”

“Are you telling me so that I can make sure beds are clear in the medbay?”

“I’m telling you because I won’t be able to make it to the commissary for lunch— need to stay close to the bridge.”

“Are you canceling on me, Kirk?”

“Not in the least,” he told you with a small smile while setting his feet onto the surface of the table as well. “Come to my ready room during your lunch break.”

“Your ready room?”

He nodded. “I’ll be close enough to the bridge in case of an emergency.”

“What, d’you really need me there to eat lunch?”

“I just prefer it.”

You snorted. “Why?”

With a nonchalant shrug, Jim replied, “Just because.”

Five

You stood before the mirror in your bathroom. Your fingers were twisted in your hair, pulling the strands upwards to create some sort of volume. Upon assuming your success, you released the locks only to see whatever plushness you achieved deflate before your eyes.

You resorted to flipping your hair— once, twice, a third time.

“Are you practicing your popband audition?”

You almost growled at Jim, twisting your torso to bare your teeth at him once he was leant against the door frame. “Why are you here again?”

“To drop off the breakfast you messaged me to bring.”

You shot him an apologetic look prior to turning back to the mirror. “Have I thanked you for that?”

“You have. Coffee’s getting cold, though.”

You placed your hands at the edge of the counter, stretching your arms to their full span and leaning forward so your hipbones hit the hard boundary. You pouted at your reflection, your eyes narrowed in on the shorter hair at the border of your hairline which stood up straight. “Jim, my hair looks like crap.”

“Starlight, it’s only hair.”

You narrowed your eyes as you glanced at him. “Is it? How long did that,” you motioned towards his perfectly coiffed blonde hair, “take you this morning?”

He shook with a silent chuckle. “Touché.”

“The twenty-third century and there still isn’t a shampoo that actually imparts volume. ‘Full and plump,’ my ass.”

When you clicked your tongue in irritation and gritted your teeth, meeting your reflection with eyes of self-loathing, Jim decided enough was enough. He pushed himself off the door frame and cleared his throat to gain your attention. “You know, my high school girlfriend had this problem a lot.”

“If this is a ‘you are not alone’ lecture, I’m aware that billions of people suffer from flat hair—”

“D’you have bobby pins?” he interjected with a slight tilt of his head.

You snorted a laugh. “It’s not 1945—”

“Do you?”

“Top drawer.”

“Take ‘em out. I saw her do this crown-braid-thing enough times to know it myself.”

“Jim, —”

“Just come here and let me fix it.”

Six

You rolled onto your back to stare at the ceiling plates. Your eyelids, still swollen and scrubbed raw, were too heavy to hold open all the way and your hair formed a tangled nest atop your head.

You sighed and grunted as you pushed yourself into a seated position, your back leant against the headboard. You pulled your knees to your chest and looked to your left to find the bed empty. You gave in to the weight of your eyelids and allowed them to slide shut.

“Morning, starlight.”

When you felt the mattress dip a few inches from you, you opened your eyes. You failed at your attempt to return Jim’s soft smile.

His blue eyes were gentle as he looked you over. “You look like hell.”

At that, a corner of your lips quirked up. You hummed and took the steaming mug he offered you gratefully. “I can imagine.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” He took a sip from his own mug.

A few beats of silence passed before you asked, “What’s wrong with me, Jim?”

He shrugged and the word fell from his lips as if it was the most obvious answer, “Nothing.”

“I mean it. Clearly if every person takes issue with me, something must be wrong.”

“Everyone doesn’t take issue with you,” he pressed, watching as you brought the mug to your lips and inhaled the warmth. “Your parents are two people— two people take issue with you.”

You laughed despite yourself, tossing the pillow at your left in his direction.

He returned your laugh with chuckles of his own. He reached over to tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering below your jaw for just a moment. He sighed lightly. “I wish I could tell you what they take issue with, why they take advantage of you being an easy target— but I can’t. I can’t imagine, for even a second, what they have a problem with.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and stared at the dark brown liquid in your mug, blowing on it so ripples disturbed its peace. You were able to smile when you brought your eyes up to look at Jim. “Sorry for almost beating your door down and crying into your chest three hours before you were set to wake up.”

“S’okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” He looked at the clock and his smile slowly faded. “I’ve got a meeting with all my department chiefs in ten minutes. See you in the commissary at lunch?”

“Can’t imagine why you wouldn’t.”

Seven

Jim sat upon the biobed. He swung his legs in a childish manner and whistled a random song with the intention of blocking out the monitor’s incessant beeping.

You stepped directly in front of him and held your penlight before his right eye in order to assess pupil response. You clasped your free hand around his chin and smiled at his grimace. “You’re a real toddler sometimes.”

“If not being a fan of doctors makes me a toddler, then so be it.”

You bit down on your bottom lip as you moved the light to his left eye, watching as the oceanic blue formed a thin ring around his pupil. You clicked the light off and released his chin. “Odd you aren’t a fan of doctors considering Bones and I are your closest friends.”

“I’m friends with the two of you not in addition to your profession, but in spite of it.”

You laughed through your nose and shook your head.

“Speaking of Bones, he’s got that tribble he injected with Khan’s blood living in his quarters now,” Jim added, a smile over his lips when you faced him again. “Grew attached to the damn thing.”

“Tribbles are cute. They help with stress management— which is a hell of a lot healthier than drinking your worries away. I’d prescribe them to most of the crew if we had enough on board.”

He stared at your hands as you placed an empty tube into the hypo you were holding. “Put two of ‘em in a room for an hour— you’ll have more than enough for the entire crew and half the population of Voth.”

Holding your hand out to Jim, you looked at him expectantly. Once the back of his hand hit your palm and your fingers were wrapped around his thick wrist, you placed the hypo below the crease of his elbow as usual. “D’you want me to keep talking about tribbles to distract you?”

He clicked his tongue and met your eyes rather than focus on what your hands did. He was able to take a steady deep breath. “I’m okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

Eight

From your spot across the desk from Leonard, you watched the series of expressions twisting his features as you set your feet onto the desk’s flat surface. You laughed at the baring of his teeth, cocking of his eyebrow, and flaring of his nostrils, and tilted your head when his hazel eyes met yours. “Something I can help you with, Bones?”

“Ever heard of respectin’ someone else’s property, sweetheart?”

You smiled at his voice made heavier by his exhaustion. “I need to stretch my legs— keep that blood flowing.”

“Then stand up and take a walk like the rest of us.”

“Come on, grumpy goose! You know I’m too tired to stand up and walk beyond there,” you pointed at the floorboard not three feet away from you.

He huffed. “Yeah, yeah. I let you do this now, pretty soon you’re walkin’ in your mud-covered boots all over my house— stainin’ the rugs with filth.”

“You’re right. Setting my feet onto your desk is just a gateway to me ruining your rugs on Earth.”

He smiled at the dryness in your voice. “Only for ten minutes, got it?”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Before you could open the next patient chart on your tablet, there was a series of short knocks at the door to which Leonard responded with a click of his tongue and a gravelly, “It’s unlocked. Press the damn button.”

With a swish, the door slid open and you looked over your shoulder in time to see Jim scowl at Leonard as he fell into the chair beside you. “I thought being from the South was synonymous with politeness.”

“You can’t go ‘round assuming things, Jim. S’no way to live,” Leonard replied as he smirked down at his PADD.  

“Guess it’s just your unique charm.” Jim nudged your upper arm with his elbow then. “Answer your communicator once in a while. Might be urgent.”

You rolled your eyes. “If it’s coming from you after your shift has ended, I doubt that it’s urgent.”

Leonard snorted and Jim placed his hand against his chest playfully. “I’m offended.”

“What’d you need me for, then, huh?”

He shrugged and sat back in the seat, his eyes leaving yours as he tipped his head toward the ceiling. “Had no one to eat dinner with.”

“Knew it,” you laughed. You patted your pockets and set your feet on the ground to reach into each of your boots, frowning. “I think I left my communicator in Exam Room 2.”

As you rose from the chair, your tired legs screamed. The discomfort must have been apparent, though, as Jim stood and shook his head. “Sit down, starlight. I’ll get it.”

Nine

Jim awoke before you did. He stared around the stark white room and sighed heavily at the beeping that echoed in the silence. He looked down at his own body to take in the stiff white gown, itchy white blanket, and rough white sheets. He clicked his tongue at the bandage wrapped around his wrist before taking a deep breath that sent a sharp pain through his sides.

Despite that, he inhaled deeply once more before he was able to acknowledge the weight on his right hand. His eyes traced over your sleeping form— legs folded onto the most uncomfortable of chairs, arms folded upon the surface of his bed. Your hands were set on his, your cheek lying on top of all three as if to hold them in place. Steady breaths left your parted lips and Jim found himself feeling guilty, a stuttering beat aching his chest.

He shifted a bit, suppressing a groan at the throbbing in his head so as to not wake you. When you inhaled a bit sharply, though, he knew his efforts had gone to waste.

You lifted your head slowly and placed your chin where your cheek had just been. You blinked several times before you could pull your tired eyes open, your eyelashes casting a shadow over your cheekbones until they fluttered up toward your furrowed brow.

You tilted your head and stared at Jim as he stared at you, sitting up and taking the warmth of your hands with you. “You’re awake.”

He tried to smile at you. “Seems like it, yeah,” his voice was raspy, groggier than he thought it would be.

“How are you feeling?” you asked as you rubbed your right eye with your fingertips. You looked at the monitor rather than at Jim and picked up the PADD that had been discarded at the foot of the bed.

He shrugged and, once he felt another jolt of pain rush up his side, decided the action was out of his range of abilities at the moment. “Head hurts, sides hurt, leg feels heavy, left arm’s a bit sore.”

“Other than that, can’t complain, right?” you muttered dryly, recording the vitals displayed to you. “You can expect all of that when you take a fall like you did.”

You paused in thought for a moment. “You should actually expect more than that when you fall from such a high altitude— you’re lucky you got off with just a concussion, some broken ribs, a hairline fracture on your tibia, and a broken wrist. Thankfully, some greenery broke your fall and Scotty was able to beam you on board quickly.”

He had to look away when your eyes, tinted with red and filled with enough concern to shatter what remained of his ribs, met his. “How long was I out?”

“Not too long. Once I made sure you were neurologically sound and the impact of the concussion was minimal, Bones and I knocked you out for the night. We figured the stronger the sedative, the better.” You rubbed a tired hand against your forehead. “Set your fractures and revved up the osteogenic stimulator, used the dermal regenerator on all the bad cuts, and put you on medical leave for the next three days.”

“Three days? But—”

You scoffed loudly. “Shut up, Jim. Three days is nothing.”

“I have so much to do, though. The mission’s briefings, the—”

“Spock’s handling all of it. Since he didn’t, you know, get chased off a cliff by hostile natives.”

Jim saw you smile a bit at your own comment and felt the corners of his lips pull upwards. When you tucked your hair behind your ear, he noticed the indents of your sleeve against your temple. “Did you sleep here?”

You wrinkled your nose and nodded. “Ever since you…” you trailed off and Jim knew exactly what you meant, the stuttering in his chest growing more prominent, “two years ago, something about leaving you when you aren’t well scares me.”

He cursed under his breath and used his uninjured hand to cup your cheek, running his thumb over your cheekbone. His eyes followed each movement of yours and he sighed. “I’m sorry. I would never want to worry you.”

Ten

As you straddled Jim’s lap with your knees digging into the couch and your lips pressed to his hungrily, he told himself you were just drunk. When you leaned back to remove your top and discard it off to the side before assisting him in doing the same, he told himself you were just drunk. At the sound that left your lips when his fingers pulled back on your hair so he could bite down on the skin on your neck, he told himself you were just drunk.

He told himself you were drunk, though he knew you hadn’t drank more than half a finger of whiskey— he couldn’t explain it to himself any other way. You were drunk and a little heartbroken from your recently ended relationship, and sought comfort in him. In his head, it was only so complicated and just that simple— he couldn’t afford to think of it differently, especially not when his mind was strung on something he couldn’t describe.

You told yourself something similar. You hadn’t seen him touch a drink all night, but attributed his tight grip on you, the dilation of his pupils, slow burning fire with which he kissed you to inebriation.

You didn’t think, for even a second, that Jim Kirk would return your feelings-- the feelings that kept you from thinking about anyone else. You thought the candle you carried for him since the day he forced you to lunch with him just to make sure you ate was a foolish candle to carry. You thought friendship was as far as it would go and were satisfied with that, no matter how much it stung to see him with other people— staring at them in a way that you never noticed was much less meaningful than the way he stared at you.

You almost regretted pulling back to lose the warmth of Jim’s lips and, when he looked up at you with eyes shining even in the dark and lips swollen from your kisses and bites, something in your chest squeezed painfully.

Without a thought beyond ‘fuck it,’ you leaned forward to kiss him again. Your arm wrapped around his neck as your other hand trailed down to his chest, feeling his quick heartbeat below your fingertips.

His rough hands slowly slid up your bare skin to grasp your waist, pulling your body impossibly close to his. He groaned into your mouth as you rolled your hips against him, his fingers holding you with enough strength to leave bruises.

When you rolled your hips once more, and a feeling stronger than he’d ever felt surged up his spine, his hands pushed your body from his. “Wait, stop.”

He placed one of his hands on the couch, feeling the rough fabric and reminding himself that this was real— that the softness he was staring into, the softness he wanted to bury himself in was real. “We can’t do this.”

“Wh— Why not?”

To him, the answer was obvious. “Because I love you. And I can’t fool myself into thinking one time with you is enough.”

you can read 10 things i hate about you right here

[lady-nevermore]

Tagged by: @kibitoshinkai​ 

A - Age: 25 going on 26 

B - Biggest fear: Loss/Losing a loved one, The possibility of Nothingness after Death aka the thought of my consciousness just dissipating into nothingness/losing all sense of self after death really scares the crap outta me on a hyperventilating/panic attack kinda level, Heights/Falling, Drowning, Bugs/Insects/Arachnids, Oh, and let’s not forget about Sleep Paralysis, that can be a real bitch too (haven’t had one of those in a really really really long-ass while, welp here’s hoping I didn’t just fucking jinx myself *sigh*). -___-;

C - Current time: 10:25 PM

D - Drink you last had: Vanilla Chai Tea

E - Every day starts with: Waking up perplexed and trying to contemplate what little I can remember of my fleeting dreams, before they slip outta my grasp completely.

F - Favorite song: Tbh, just like with books, films and anime/tv-series, I’m fond of a lot of different varieties of genres of music, and can never really just stick with one sole fave song (from punk-rock, soft rock, indie rock, jazz, hip-hop, r&b, pop, electronic, etc); So for now let’s just say that I’m really digging J-pop/J-rock, RWBY/RvB ost, YYH ost, a mix of several Anime opening/ending themes, 80′s/90′s rock/pop songs, Green Day, etc. ^^;

G - Ghosts, are they real?: Heh, If someone had asked me this years ago, my stubborn smart-ass teenage self would have scoffed and probably would have disputed against this to no end, convinced of the illogicalness of it all. But surprisingly enough, coming from a semi non-religious/agnostic person like myself…..I gotta say: Yes on this one. And I say this for Three reasons. 

The first being, that deep deep down, the mere thought of my consciousness just dissipating into nothingness after death, and losing all sense of self just really really makes me uneasy and overall just really scares the living-shit out of me, on an almost hyperventilating panic-attack kind of level. 

For another, when I was but a mere youngling (around 7-12), we lived in a “supposedly haunted house” (let’s just say that I remember there were times when things def. felt really really off, uneasy, and just plain eerie, the chills down my spine didn’t help either). Who knows maybe growing up with YYH subconsciously helped me not be so damn freaked out about it all, and helped me handle the possibility of it with a bit of grace. lol xD

The last reason, a real personal and selfish one at that, is that deep down, a part of me really wouldn’t mind if the idea of an “afterlife” did hold some real truth to it, mostly cause the thought of meeting up with an old friend of mine that has long since passed from this world, is a rather comforting thought. 

H - Hometown: Back in the day, as a teenager, my friends and classmates would often exaggeratingly refer to it being just: (plain-ass boring), but in reality it was nothing more than a small, quaint, peaceful little town called: Fairfield.  

I - In love with: I’ve always been in love with the art and craft of storytelling; just any and every amazingly well-written / crafted fantastical stories of fiction, in any form of media, whether it be via the written word/books, through anime/web series, TV series, films/movies, videogames, etc. Speaking of which, besides RWBY, I’ve gone and spiraled right back into being in awe of Yu Yu Hakusho, and just how amazing Togashi is at his craft. ^_^

J - Jealous of: Nowadays, nothing really. 

Though the few times I’ve actually felt real envy, were a couple of times as a child …..And the main reason for that was due to the fact that I didn’t have the best childhood, let’s just say that emotional abusement, and domestic house fights all thanks to my super religious Catholic, and overall a pitifully poor excuse of an Aunt who was living with us at the time, obviously didn’t leave me entirely unscathed (hence why I have anxiety problems as well as trust issues, why I used to sometimes have a sorta hard time with religion, struggle with the concept of having faith. But yeah, I guess I’ve sorta made my peace with it all……But back to the matter at hand, that’s why, as a kid, I envied those, whom I presumed must of had a nice, stable and so-called “normal” childhood.

….Yup, though that was indeed a particularly dim time in my life, I’m just glad that Yu Yu Hakusho helped get me through most of that shit, which was nice, well that and the possibility that our old-house was “supposedly haunted” (so yeah, I could sorta relate to Yusuke on some of these levels, which at the time helped me to feel less alone and less of a misfit than I thought I previously was, especially in regards to not having the best or normal living situation, nor the best childhood, and that a team/group of friends was also a real possibility of the word “family”, it’s why I don’t take betrayal lightly and why I value the concept of friendship / loyalty / camaraderie so damn highly, it helped to fill a much needed void). ^^;

The other time I felt a twinge of jealousy were a couple of times during my pre-teens/teenage years (mostly for stupid silly little reasons), like feeling a bit insecure about my place in certain friendships, but being reassured later on that I wasn’t being replaced, or overlooked. (like I said it was stupid). ^^;

N - Number of siblings: None, I am an only child.

O - One wish: I wish could have gone about things a little bit differently in the past….. So many things that were left unsaid, things I didn’t realize back then that I had taken for granted or should have appreciated more. 

Oh, and let’s not forget the stupid, silly, face-palming moments I had as an adolescent that still haunt me/make me slightly cringe from embarrassment to this day; some I’m willing to accept and can even look fondly back on …..but, there are a few stupid moments (things I’ve said that had slightly hurt others) were I wish I could just go back in time and slap myself upside the head for, or at least take back and erase all together). -__-;

But in all seriousness, there is one thing I really wish for. Remember that old friend of mine that I mentioned a while back in this post…..well, it’s been about 8 years give or take since they passed away from cancer, I was 19 when it happened, and I know I’ve made my peace with that ages ago, but there are still times I really wish I hadn’t taken those moments with my friend for granted; looking back I really wish I had taken the time to really appreciate it all a lot more.

My old friend was the type of person who said they considered themselves as “obnoxious” (which always left me rather perplexed and made me raise an eyebrow skeptically at them in response; I never once considered them as obnoxious, I mean stubborn sure, optimistic and always trying to look for the good in any situation as well as an incredibly kind and gentle soul, for damn sure, quick-witted, wise, with a brilliant mind when it came to arithmetic and science most definitely (something I really respected, admired and even left me a little in awe with how natural and easily these two subjects came for them, considering I can’t even solve a sudoku puzzle to save my life, that’s how bad me and math don’t mix lol), was incredibly open-minded (a trait I always had but later became even more reinforced and ingrained into my psyche in thanks to them) even though they were religiously devoted and faithful to a tee (something I still struggle with from time to time but have long since their passing, semi changed my perspective on), something which used to cause us to butt heads here and there, was a massive Star Wars, Lord of Rings / Tolkien, and Firefly fan, was real fond of the color green and Tigger from Winnie the Pooh (hence their fave TTFN aka Ta Ta For Now farewell they’d give), was the type to give the best out of the blue bear-hugs, was someone whom like myself really loved the rain (used to say that they considered it quite cleansing to the soul) was the person who first introduced me to the wonders of Tea, was a bright light in my life that helped healed the scars and broken remnants that remained from my really messed childhood, was someone I greatly admired as well as respected, and was maybe even a little more of a playful dork than I could ever wish to be (I mean, for fuck’s sake, we used to have actual poke-wars and keep tabs of who was winning). lol xD  

But never, never did I once think that they were annoying or obnoxious.

……..I just wish it could have occurred to me at the time to have told them that face to face (back when there was still time), and reassured them otherwise, I mean looking back at it now, in hindsight, it was obviously something they were always a little insecure about and just played it off half-jokingly, something I never even realized till now, and It kinda twinges/tugs at my heartstrings a bit (in regret) that it just never really occurred to my stupid, oblivious, teenage self back then to have told them otherwise. 

I just hope that deep down my dear old friend knew how much we cared, how much they really mattered to us in the end, as well as how deeply and sorely they’re still missed (cause not a day goes by where I don’t think of them). But most importantly, I hope they knew that they were someone I was real damn proud to consider and call: Friend. :’)

P - Person you last texted: My Mom

Q - Questions you’re always asked: Besides the typical, “What’s up?” or “How are you?” lol xD…. Lately it’s been things like: What are your thoughts / speculations on what’s to come for the latest season of RWBY and the like, which is nice, considering the hiatus we’re currently on. ^-^

S - Song last sung: More like hummed; I had that damn catchy Level E Opening Theme song stuck in my head a few nights ago, and ended up humming it whilst in the shower. lol x)

T -Time you woke up: 6:00 A.M. 

U - Underwear color: Black and White.

V - Vacation destination: Japan would be pretty cool. :D

W - Worst habits: Besides my bouts of indecisiveness, speaking fast when I’m nervous, and insomnia from time to time as well as coffee being my vice? o.o 

Hmm - Welp, let’s see….I can be a real worry-wart, and have a bad-habit to unnecessarily over-think and mull over even the littlest things, especially over past or upcoming situations (I can thank my anxiety/social anxiety for that one).

I also have a really hard time when it comes to opening-up/baring my soul aka letting others get too emotionally close to me. Rest assured, I’m not proud of it, but it seems like keeping to myself or keeping others at arm’s length seems to be my go-to comfort-zone / coping mechanism when it comes to avoiding getting hurt, and what’s worse, if it get’s really bad, I tend to do this subconsciously and pull away or distant myself emotionally for a bit, especially on harder days, when I’m more susceptible towards my depression, which really really fucking sucks cause if there’s one thing I really value rather highly, it’s the concept of loyalty / friendship / camaraderie a great deal.

....And it’s not like I want to deliberately push people away, the problem is that over the years it has manifested itself as a goddamn reflex, hence it being one of my more worse bad habits that I sometimes still find myself struggling with at times (and it doesn’t help that as an introvert, I prefer to really enjoy time on my own / quiet moments to myself a lot more). 

Tch, I’m starting to sound like a loner / lone wolf here. -____-;

....Either way, I guess I gotta thank my fucking social anxiety/apathy/depression and overall past trust-issues for this one as well. *sigh* Trust me, I know I have issues, and if this affects you in anyway, just know that it ain’t nothing personally against you, I know/am well aware that I’m the damn problem.  -__-;

X - X-rays you’ve had: Dental X-rays when going to the Dentist, but yeah that’s it really (never broken a bone in my life). ^^;

Y - Your favorite food: I’m actually really partial to: Italian and Chinese food, though I’m always down for doing a small cook-out/grill out once and awhile. 

Z - Zodiac sign: Western Zodiac (Leo) / Chinese Zodiac (Sheep/Ram).

Tagging: @angelotics , @theamazingflyinglion , @the-dork-knight-dot-exe , @spidersmiceandeverythingnice , @bottomofthewell , @nightjasmine10 , @1nerdygurl , @desenhosrabisco , @yangsmash , @hellfire47 , @boserwulf , @red-moon-eclipse , @youko-fairy , @ravenhull , @animatedjoke , @tifa-the-bacon-goddess , @fionaandcake27 , @howtobook101 , @blueteamproblem