#moving the cutouts for the text around and into place took half an hour and my fingers are numb but i like this one!!!!!!

[sororygilmore]

CLOSE TO YOU BY GRACIE ABRAMS ୨୧

[thetoadghoul]

Volunteering: (Ohtani x Reader) <333 (Part - 2)

part 1!

plot: Wednesday’s game arrives which Ohtani invited you to, some bonding time before the first pitch <3 slowwwburn, long cause idk details are fun lol

Wednesday quickly arrived, made much faster by the crazy amount of work you were required to do for your ‘actual’ job. The last three days had been spent with you running around the LA area, as well as cyberspace, to serve your role as interpreter. It was hell, for more reasons than one. The biggest of all being that even though you were not in Japan at the moment, you were still required to wear a proper suit. That meant a tight navy skirt, stockings, and some blasted heels. Sexist men, long meetings, and endless paperwork aside, you enjoyed your job for the most part - but this aspect really wore on you. However, the pain in your feet wouldn't damper your excitement for tonight’s game. Today you were not actually volunteering at the Angels stadium.

The day before yesterday, when you were actually volunteering, a bashful Ohtani had tapped you on the back while you were picking up baseballs from the batting cages. When you turned around the giant man was holding out a lanyard with an attached document, marked ‘VIP Guest of Player’. It took all you had not to let your hands shake with nerves as you reached out and grabbed it gingerly.

“Uh, see you on Wednesday.” The man looked to the side awkwardly, running a hand through his hair.

“...Yeah.” You responded with a small smile, feeling stupid, but it was all you could think of.

“Well, uh, I better go...” He motioned behind his back with a lazy thumb, staring to jog backward.

You nodded quickly, rushing to go back to picking up balls before you said something super lame, or weird.

It wasn’t till you were on the way home did you take a look at the back of the stadium pass. It read ‘Guest of Shohei Ohtani’. So he had put in the request for you, that was just like him, so kind. It would be an understatement to say you weren’t excited for tomorrow.

-----

Currently, your heart was still racing, but for another reason other than a certain super cute and insanely talented baseball player. It was because it was almost three-thirty in the afternoon and you were running around your company-provided apartment, trying to get ready as fast as you could. Ippei let you know you should get there around four-thirty, by then the team would have been done warming up and starting to enjoy a pregame meal while the away team got the field to themselves. From that point onwards, pretty much everyone was free to relax in the clubhouse till just before the first pitch.

With little time to consider, not even enough time to take a shower after having just got off work, you went with an oversized red T-shirt, baggy jeans, and some cool Jordan’s. This was your go-to, and it was comfortable. You don’t have many clothes anyway, living out of a suitcase.

Right as you were about to run out of the door you remembered to grab your standard Angels cap, it had been provided to you as part of your volunteer uniform a while back, slipping it on over your tight work bun. You would let your hair down later.

All right, everything was in order, Uber scheduled, lanyard secured.

It took about half an hour to arrive at the stadium, and once it came into view, you instructed the driver to let you out in front of the ballpark entrance. It had been a long time since you got to go through the gates as a member of the audience, it actually gave you a wave of nostalgia seeing everyone in their gear, so hyped up for the game, tailing gating outside for what was probably hours.

Once you were through, you started walking through the concession stands and various other stalls, dodging around the fans that were already inside watching the warm-ups, as well as hanging out drinking and eating. There were pictures of Ohtani everywhere, people taking turns snapping pictures of each other in front of the various cutouts of him. The air was buzzing with energy, and it seemed like all for that guy. Honestly, you had worked for a couple different teams over the years, but you had never seen hype like this. It was surreal, seeing a legend in the making.

You smiled, gripping the lanyard around your neck, making your way through the stadium. Shohei was super nice to do this for you, really, you should show him your support. Maybe a quick peek in the team store would do? Plus, you deserved to spend some money on yourself. After all, this was the first time you had really been ‘out’ in the almost three months you had been in California. Your free time was either working, volunteering, video games, or sleep.

You took a couple moments in the Angel's merch shop, quietly perusing the aisles, keeping an eye out for any Ohtani-themed items. Unfortunately, there weren’t really that many, probably sold out by the fans. What was there, was way too small for you.

“Y/n, you here to watch the game?” A young voice sounded.

When you turned to see who addressed you, a familiar girl was standing there grinning.

“Hey Jordan! I didn’t know you were working tonight.” You grinned back.

Jordan worked at the store as a stock manager, she was close in age to you so the two of you often hung out. You had invited her over a couple times, both bonding over your love for crappy reality TV, beer, and of course, baseball.

“Yeah it was last minute, a girl was feeling sick and there wasn’t anyone else cept’ me.” She sighed.

“Bummer, text me if you need help?” You offered, to which she waved you off.

“Nah, you enjoy being here and NOT working.” She chuckled, walking over to organize a messy shelf.

“So, you looking for something in particular?” The girl glanced over her shoulder.

“Uh yeah, you recommend any cool Ohtani stuff? Or is there any at all... seems wiped clean in here.” You said while looking around.

“Ohtani? You here to cheer him on too then. Wanna catch his eye.” She teased.

“Don’t say it like I’m just here for my like, prince charming.” You snapped back playfully, but, maybe a little too fast.

“Aren’t you?” She pressed with an eyebrow.

“Okay, I’m leaving.” You pouted, fake walking away.

“I’m just kidding, actually, stay here for a second I might have something you’ll like.” Jordan yelled as she jogged off to the back room behind the counters.

You did as you were told and when she came back there was a large white Angels jersey in her hands.

“Ta-da!” She grinned, twisting it around to show the player’s name on the back.

“Oh, it’s in Kanji? That’s cool, I didn’t know these existed?” You questioned, running your finger over the ‘tani’ character of Ohtani.

“It’s the last one on the floor, had to grab it off the mannequin. Hope it’s not too big? It’s XL?” She questioned, passing it to you to hold.

“Nah it’s perfect, can’t you tell.” You joked holding the jersey next to you, while you showed off your oversized clothes.

“Figured it'd be fine, wanna get rung up? I’ll give you that ‘good good’ employee discount. But, don’t tell anyone.” She smiled, heading to the register, to which you nodded and jogged after her.

After you finished your purchase and waved bye to Jordan, it was time to head to the clubhouse. It was around five, so you were later than you planned but Shohei usually practiced batting in the cages a little while longer while everyone headed in. Slipping the plastic shopping bag into your purse, and ripping the tags off your new jersey, you slipped it on over your T-shirt, smoothing out the material as best you could. It felt great to finally have some real merch from the team, and part of you sort of wondered what Ohtani would think when he saw you. Hopefully, it wasn’t too much to just show up in his gear after he pretty much randomly invited you, let alone in the stadium-specific one, as you just learned from your colleague.

After you got to an employee-only doorway, you pushed on it hoping it was actually open. Ippei had also let you know via text that it would be unlocked for you. Another kindness of Shohei, not just inviting you, but making sure you had access to all the catering and AC inside the resisted area of the building. You slipped in and locked the door behind you, not wanting to encourage some intoxicated fans to follow. The hallway was empty and cool as you started making your way to the clubhouse.

You were admittedly a bit nervous by the time you got to the doors, feeling a bit awkward about strutting in as anyone other than a volunteer for the first time. Carefully you pushed open the door, making sure not to hit anybody. The room was full of chatter, some players eating, some playing cards, others watching TV on the room's monitors. You looked around for Ohtani, but he wasn’t there yet apparently. No matter, you strolled in and went for the snack area. Truthfully you hadn’t eaten since that morning, and that was just a toasted bagel. Turning your back to the rest of the room, you began filling up your plate with cocktail shrimp and grapes.

“Nice jersey.” Ippei said, coming up next to you, grabbing small sandwiches for his plate.

“Is that sarcastic?” You questioned with a smile, finishing your plate.

“Nah, I’m sure he likes it.” Ippei jerked his head to the left.

He? You leaned back to see around the man, meeting Shohei’s surprised face almost immediately. Had he been standing there the whole time? He had obviously been staring at your back, at his name, bashfully looking up to your face when you moved, blinking a couple times to clear his eyes.

“I uh, got it ten minutes ago.” You grinned awkwardly, pointing your thumb proudly at the jersey, hoping he wouldn’t think you were a weirdo.

The large player didn’t say anything, blinking more slowly this time before opting to just nod gently, with a quick “thanks for your support”, hurriedly leaning forward to start filling his plate with all kinds of foods.

—-

Once everyone had their food the three of you found a place to sit while you ate, it was at the back of the room away from the noise, and where the two usually sat before a game anyways. A small conversation started while the three of you ate calmly.

“Why... do you only have grapes, and shrimp?” Ohtani questioned suddenly, looking at your plate baffled. You looked down at it as well, pausing for a moment trying to find out what was so weird about that.

“Uh, well, it’s because... these things are... super expensive in Tokyo. It’s like a rich person food to me.” You smiled, eating a couple shrimps happily.

“Wow. That’s so sad.” Ippei chuckled before taking a bite of his sandwich.

Shohei on the other hand burst out laughing at your response, making you laugh a bit too at your pitiful confession.

“Seriously, I feel like a mega-rich, and very posh, Ginza lady right now - eating nothing but shrimp and fruit. So fancy right? ” You exclaimed, popping a grape in your mouth.

The Japanese player laughed even harder, tears building up as he wiped his eyes.

“Those people wouldn’t touch that stuff with a three-meter stick.” Ippei stated, letting out a small laugh.

“Just let me have my moment.” You pouted through a smile, shoving more shrimp in your mouth.

The other man calmed down finally and was now sitting there smiling while he ate.

“So, fancy y/n, are you okay to sit in the dugout tonight. Not too unrefined for you?” Ippei questioned with a smirk.

“That’s, allowed?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah, if you want to. Can’t stay there the whole time, but.” The man responded nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s the best place to hear, ‘the surprise’.” Shohei added, food in the process of being shoved in his mouth.

“Well, doesn’t seem like there’s any other option.” You smiled at the player, who nodded in acknowledgment.

“He’s batting first tonight, you won’t have to wait long.” Ippei spoke, starting on the next sandwich.

“Hope me being in there won’t be bad luck.” You joked.

“You believe in that?” Ippei smirked.

“My family ingrained it into me, wasn’t allowed to watch a single super bowl game in the living room till I literally moved out.” You frowned, stabbing a grape.

“Harsh.” The man smirked with a small laugh under his breath.

“You will be good luck, for sure.” Shohei leaned forward in a hunch to take another bite of food, smiling sincerely at you as he looked up from his food.

“Then, I will see to it that will become a very good omen. Please believe in me.” You responded in the highest form of keigo you knew, bowing rigidly from your seat for comedic effect. Since you never studied that level of grammar, it was really freaking bad, causing the two men to laugh again.

“You’re funny.” Ippei chuckled.

“Yeah, and your Japanese is so good though?” Shohei exclaimed, eyebrows raised, eyes wide.

“Nah it’s pretty bad, I fell off the study wagon a long time ago.” You laughed awkwardly, waving a hand in front of your face.

“You’d be there forever if you stayed on.” Ippei chuckled again, while Shohei nodded in sullen agreement.

“Writing would be nice though, having to look up every other kanji at the doctor's office, or like city hall makes me literally sweat, like, a lot. Buckets. But when I look around, I'm the only one.” You giggled.

“You’re so honest.” Shohei chuckled, wiping his mouth with a napkin, still leaning forward in his chair, you grinned back at him. Your eyes locked for a while, you had never noticed, but his eyelashes were sort of long.

At that moment Ippei had to take a call, letting the two of you know he’d be back in a bit, walking off. The two of you looked away and finished eating in silence.

When you looked up from your empty plate, the large player was now staring at you with a soft expression. The warmth in his eyes made you blush, he didn’t even break his gaze once he was caught like he usually did. You responded back to him simply with a shy smile, before being the one to avert your own eyes to the floor again.

Thankfully at that moment, a group of Angels came over, slapping the Japanese man on the back, starting up a conversion. They were going over strategies for the game and overall just getting hyped up. You didn’t have much to input, so you just kind of sat there enjoying the excited chatter. Shohei smiled merrily the whole time, inserting little jokes, completely affected by their excitement. The way he carried himself really reminded you that the essence of baseball was really just about having fun with your teammates and giving it your all. He looked simply happy to be there, and it made you smile too, just watching him goof off. It was charming to see his duality of being a just big kid with endless laugher, versus the super-serious, and seasoned player he was on the mound.

You were really trying hard not to but, you were rapidly developing feelings for Shohei. The last three months of volunteering here, you of course thought he was really cute and kind, classic boyfriend material. A simple crush, like many of the girls working around him, surely had as well. However the possibility of you two actually dating had always been a foreign concept, one which stopped you from even considering it, at all, you just didn’t know if you even could. With you both traveling for work, how would there be time? Plus, what about the media? His family? Yours? All those things seemed unscalable walls, that is, until this moment, when you could feel his gentle eyes on you once again.

Maybe, there was something? Or maybe, he was just a super nice guy, and you were treated no different than anyone else.

When you snapped out of your thoughts, Shohei was starting to stand up, grabbing everyone’s empties plates. He reached his hand towards you, asking for the one in your hand with a tiny nod of his head, to which you thanked him, stood up, and handed it over.

Well.

Either way, you were so screwed.

-------

Hope you enjoyed! <3

[smallrainclouds]

It's not easy having yourself a good time

we're on a double-date with other people... why are we kissing? you're not my date

Credit for prompt to

Hypnos x reader (modern!College!au)

Word count: 2.7

Warning: some dating violence on OC's side. Wrist grabbing, slurs and controlling behavior.

Summary: this was the worst date of your life. Thankfully it's also Hypnos' worst date ever.

A/N: here have this fic. I had yandere! Hypnos I was working on but it's giving me issues (it was supposed be under 1k but it keeps growing).

Also, I am open to requests but will rejected any I don't feel comfortable doing.

No beta.

Thank and I hope you enjoy.

💤☁️💤

You regret everything.

You stared at the plate of food you didn't order, some sad little salad that somehow smelled greasy.

Why did you let yourself get talked into a group date? You know why, you thought your friend was going to try to set up with your lab partner, Hypnos.

You looked at the bubbles in your sparkling water, another thing you didn't order and wondered if the person you were with would ever stop talking.

You glanced up at the group at the table. Across from you with his own date next to him, was Hypnos who was frowning at your date.

At least you had one sane classmate with you. Hypnos had been your lab partner since the first day in senior year and honestly you had thought at first your friend was setting you up with Hypnos. If you had known it was with someone else, you would have bail.

Charlie was a nice person you told yourself and your friends thought they would be great for you. Charlie was just… maybe they didn't know you don't order people's food for them.

"Look what I'm saying, Hypnos, is that maybe that YouTuber guy shouldn't be called out as much. Not his fault people can't take jokes anymore." Your date, Charlie, said loudly across the table to Hypnos who just raised a brow.

You rolled your eyes, You weren't going to let your friends pick a date for you ever again.

"Alright buddy. Whatever you say." Hypnos shrugged.

Hypnos' date and fellow classmate leaned across Hypnos, her breasts pressed against his arm. You looked away, poking at your food. You certainly were not jealous, you told yourself.

"Come on, guys. Let's talk about something else." she whined. The other two couples that came along echoed their agreement.

Hypnos grimaced and sat up taller, making the girl sit up as well. You felt kinda bad for both you and Hypnos. Clearly neither one of you guys were getting on with your dates.

You looked toward your friend, hoping she would notice how poorly everything was going. You rolled your eyes when she was clearly lost in her own world, feeding her partner french fries.

Too bad your date wasn't with Hypnos. You thought he was actually cute back when You first saw him, if not a little odd looking with white curls and heavy lidded eyes. Now, you couldn't imagine a more handsome person.

You found your eyes kept going back to him throughout dinner. Especially when he pushed his hoodie sleeves up, showing off his forearms.

The table moved on to some marvel movie or something but you were drifting in and out. You kept checking your watch in hopes that you could end the night soon without being rude.

You could feel someone was watching you and you looked up to Hypnos' golden eyes looking at you. He glanced at the group, back at you and rolled his eyes. You smiled in agreement but quickly covered it up with your hand.

Hypnos pointed toward your plate with the uneaten food, eyebrows rised in a questioning way.

You tilted your head toward your date who was loudly having another argument over some tv show with one of the guys there.

Hypnos looked at your date for a second before he sneaked you his untouched plate of pancakes.

You mouthed, 'Are you sure?' and he nodded, pointing at a plate of mostly eaten omelet.

You mouthed a quick thank you and dug in. You were half though the plate of pancakes when your date noticed.

"Wait, where did you get the pancakes?" Charlie asked, "You know how fattening all that carbs and sugar are? I like my dates to be healthy."

"What?" You asked flatly. Did you really hear what you just did? Hypnos and his date were both staring at Charlie. Hypnos looked furious and You saw the girl send you a pitying look.

"Oh. come on, you know I don't mean it like that."

You suddenly lost any appetite you had and pushed the plate of food away. You looked toward your friend who remained blissfully unaware of your pain.

Your date swung an arm on your shoulders, you sighed annoyed at the causal possiveness. You only knew them for like two hours but they were already acting like you were going steady.

"Ready to hit the club, Y/N?" Your date asked.

You almost groaned, you had forgotten about the stupid club.

"Uh, sure. Yeah." You tried to wiggle your date's arm off but no dice. You thought you saw Hypnos send a disapproving look at your date but you weren't sure. No point getting your hopes up.

As you exited the diner, Hypnos tripped; knocking into your date and their arms off your shoulders.

Grateful for the excuse, you took a few steps out of their reach.

"Oops, my bad." Hypnos smiled widely, and gave a shoulder pat to your date who glared at him. "Just watch it alright?" Your date snapped as they made it to the carpool.

In the car, you peeked at Hypnos who just winked at you. You didn't hide your smile this time.

The club did nothing to improve your date or your mood. The loud bassy music was almost too loud to hear anyone and your date kept trying to get you to stay on the dance floor.

You were able to duck out of their hold and pointed to the table. They tried to tell you something but You didn't stick around.

You almost fell into the booth, your feet were throbbing and you just wanted to go home. You could just see your homework growing by the hour.

"Need water?" Hypnos asked. You looked up, "Oh I didn't know you were at the table. Yes please."

He handed you an icy cold bottle and you moaned at how good it tasted. He laughed and you blushed, feeling foolish.

"Sorry, thank you." You took a slip, without moaning this time thankfully.

Hypnos went back to his phone, fingers moving quickly. "No problem."

"Where is… um what was her name?" You asked, trying not to look at Hypnos too much. How dare he look this good in the club' dim lighting.

"Oh I forgot her name. But she is doing fine. Told me she was going home with her ex." He pointed to the dance floor where the girl was dancing against another guy, their mouths glued together.

You looked back at him, but he already was back to texting on his phone. He didn't seem upset at all.

"I'm sorry, Hypnos." You said awkwardly, not sure of what to make of this whole night.

"Don't be. I'm not." He shrugged. You couldn't help but notice how nicely the red hoodie fit him.

"I will admit though I don't think I will be trusting our friend's matchmaking skills after tonight." Hypnos looked at you, his amused smile made you smile in return.

"You and I both." You murmured your agreement.

You finished off your drink, eyeing him.

After a few more minutes, your willpower broke.

"Okay I gotta know. It has been months since I met you and it is bugging the crap out of me." You leaned forward to him.

He looked up from his phone, a white eyebrow raised.

"Is Hypnos your real name?" You asked him, not quite able to look away from him. You were being a silly school girl and you knew it.

He laughed, "Yeah, it is." He moved closer, his eyes bright. "Wanna know why?"

At your nod, he spoke. "When my mom was pregnant with me and my brother. She got kinda crunchy, got into healing crystals and tarot cards, stuff like that."

Hypnos waved a hand. "So when she couldn't pick names for us, she went to a psychic, who told her that she was a reincarnation of the goddess Nyx. And apparently she was pregnant again with the reincarnated gods of sleep and death."

You couldn't help the small laugh and Hypnos chuckled as he took a sip of his beer.

"Mom believed the guy." He pointed to himself, " So ta-da I got named Hypnos. And my brother is Thanatos."

"Your mom sounds like a fun lady." You played with your hair, enjoying the warmth in your stomach. You couldn't remember the last time someone made you feel such things.

"Oh definitely. I never know what I'm going to get when I see her." Hypnos said fondly.

When You shifted your seat, your leg brushed against his. You almost pulled away but Hypnos pressed his leg against yours. You could feel the heat of his body and it just made you want more.

His golden eyes searched yours, silently asking if he could do this. You returned the gentle pressure and flushed at his soft smile.

"How does your brother handle the whole Thanos name thing?" You asked, desperately trying to calm your racing heart.

A devious glint lit Hypnos' eyes, "Oh he hates it so much. He already hated the whole super hero thing. Last year for his birthday, I got him a cardboard cutout of the big guy. I thought he was going to shove it down my throat. I got his boyfriend Zagreus and their girlfriend Meg in on it this year, we going to -"

"Hey Y/N. Are you coming back to the floor?" Charlie's eyes narrowed, "Hypnos, I think your actual date is looking for you."

You pulled away, you had forgotten about Charlie and you couldn't help but feel some guilt, even if you didn't like them that much or at all.

Hypnos stayed in place, amusement on his face. You saw Charlie's fists clenched and knew they were about to start a fight and stood up.

You were definitely going to block Charlie's number after tonight was over.

"Come on, let's get some drinks for everyone. They should be coming back soon." You motioned for Charlie to follow you. They glared at Hypnos before following you.

You couldn't resist a quick glance back to Hypnos, who raised his beer at you in a 'cheers' motion.

💤☁️💤

Charlie was sullen and quiet as you ordered more drinks for the group. You couldn't blame them really, anyone would be put out when their dates are clearly having a better time with someone else.

Well, not Hypnos but Hypnos wasn't exactly normal, you thought fondly.

You tapped the bar, guilt gnawed at your guts as your thoughts went back to Hypnos.

"So what were you guys talking about?" Charlie slurred, his tone icy.

You took a breath, just a few more hours you reminded yourself. "Nothing much. Just about his brothers and stuff."

Charlie crowded into your space. You can smell the booze and sweat on them.

"You guys seemed like you were sitting pretty close considering you were talking about 'brothers'." They did a finger quote.

You rolled your eyes, unable to stand being near them any longer. You stepped away to head back to let your friends you were bailing for the night.

"Tell me what he said to you." Charlie demanded as they grabbed your wrist harshly.

"Ow, let go of me! You are hurting me, Charlie." You hissed, trying not to draw any attention.

"Tell me." They hisses back.

"I did. Buy your own drink, I'm going home." You tried to yank your hand away but they didn't let go.

"Look I've been nothing but nice to you and you're cuddling up to another guy on our date like some slut." They changed their tone, trying to sound more upset than controlling but it just made your stomach twisted in disgust.

You opened your mouth to defend yourself but after a moment you shut it, "You're right. Clearly this isn't going to work out so let me go."

"No, you own me something, Y/N." Charlie leaned toward you. "And I'm not leaving empty handed."

"Fuck off." You snapped, fear rising in your chest.

"Hey, man." Hypnos grabbed Charlie's wrist and squeezed tightly enough that they were forced to let go of your wrist. His normal light-hearted tone was hard. "I think Y/N had enough of your company tonight."

You took some steps back, shaking a little. Without looking at you, Hypnos asked. "Y/N, do you need to go get anything?"

"N-no. I have everything. I want to leave." You hated how weak you sounded and you wished that you never came out at all.

Hypnos held on to Charlie's wrist and yanked them toward him. You heard Hypnos murmur something to them.

Fear flashed over Charlie's face and they stumbled backward. "Fine. Whatever asshole."

Hypnos turned to you, his eyes darkened by his anger. "Come on, I can get you a ride home."

You just nodded, feeling very exhausted and close to tears.

💤☁️💤

The cold wind felt like heaven after the heat of the overflowing club. At least for the first two minutes.

You just walked, not quite sure where to go. Hypnos walked next to you, easily keeping up with your pace.

Neither one of you said anything as you tried to process the horrible night.

After walking for ten more minutes, Hypnos spoke up. "There is a park nearby, we should be able to find a park bench."

You just nodded, Hypnos offered an arm and after a moment you took it. You pressed your cheek against his shoulder, soaking in his body heat.

The park was empty, lit by warm path lights.

"Thank you." You said. "You didn't have to do anything for me."

"It's all good. How about the wrist?" Hypnos asked softly.

"It doesn't hurt. Thank you since you stepped in." You patted his forearm.

Hypnos sighed, "No. Not thanks to me actually. Its kinda my fault, I've been pushing their buttons for most of the night."

You looked up at Hypnos, your brow furrowed. "What? No, they have been pretty rude since the start of the date. I mean, you heard the salad thing. They ordered it for me!"

Hypnos shook his head. His breath coming out in white puffs. "Yeah and because I was jealous, I made a bad date into a nightmare. I knew I was making them feel all threatened, it wasn't hard honestly. I didn't think they would grab you like that. I just thought they would be a bad date you could laugh about later."

It took you a moment to process his words. You stopped on the park path, staring off at the lake.

"You were jealous?" You asked, not quite believing what you were hearing.

"Very." Hypnos chuckled bitterly.

"Hypnos, you are an idiot." You said blankly.

He opened his mouth to say something but you pulled him down by his collar to kiss him.

At first, Hypnos doesn't return your kiss and you pull away, an apology already on your lips.

But he cupped your face and met you again in a sweet, slow kiss. He kept pulling away to press chaste kisses against your lips and cheeks.

"Damnit, I was planning on asking out you after our last class assignment. I had a plan for everything. I was going to take you to your favorite coffee shop and buy you that dumb drink you like. Take you the park by our dorms and ask you by the duck pond." Hypnos said between kisses and pressing one last long kiss against your lips.

You hummed, unable to think straight. "Our friend ruined that, huh." You laughed when you could feel him growled against your lips. "You have no idea, I had a speech and everything."

After another long and soft kiss, both of you pulled away only to met again in a forehead press. Your white puffs of breath mingled together and your heart felt so full.

"You could still do the coffee and the speech. And the ducks." You whispered.

"Yeah?" Hypnos asked softly, his thumb caressed your cheek.

"I have to do a lab with a very cute classmate tomorrow but I'm free after that." You flushed, pleased at the fond smile Hypnos had.

"That's funny, so am I." Hypnos replied.

Unable to hold off any longer, you pulled him into another kiss, one of the many yet to come.

[writings-by-blondie]

~If The Stars Could Speak~

Soap Mactavish x F!Reader (teaspoon of Angst)

She was way too good for him and he knew that yet he couldn't forget the way her (h/c) hair fell over her shoulders, her laugh and a bit cold, but glittery look of her (e/c) eyes when their gaze met for the first time..it was like he could see universe in them.

He was in cold, gloomy, Russia, on a mission that was to be last, scribbling down words on the peace of paper, counting down hours till he get to hold her forever...

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

His most trusting man, and friend, Simon and him decided to lay back and enjoy some free time they were granted away from their ever noisy and ever busy camp.

They were at downtown, walking and talking about how tonight is their night - they will leave job at office and they will just enjoy strong alcohol and good music.

The night was a bit chilly, but nothing unusual for the late September.

That just meant that John will finally have chance to wear that nice black spitfire jacket he bought not long ago, and he looked well in it.

As the two men walked they spotted the bar they wanted to be in for the rest of the night, right outside of it, sticking out like a sore thumb was parked some expensive car that John didn't know how to indenify as. He wasn't a big car head like his friend.

"Look at this mate. Its Porsche, bet some meat heads are in this place",

said Simon chucking and eyeing the car and tilting his head slowly towards the bar.

Mactavish smirked and pushed his friend gently as he started walking in, "You have a problem with that or you're just scared of guys who drive expensive cars, eh?".

Inside of the bar you and small group of your friends were in VIP lounge. Infront of you, on small glass table was a bucket filled with ice that kept some red bulls and couple of Baltica beers cold.

You were drinking Jack Daniels, your glass half full. Being tipsy already, you fake-laughed at some perverse joke friend next to you finished telling.

Tonight, you really felt down. Truth to be told, you've been feeling under the weather last couple of months, nothing seemed to go the right way and nothing you did could change that feeling. On top of that your stupid poosh boyfriend broke up with you over text last week, and even though you understood that your friends cared for you and wanted you to forget about that fool and enjoy yourself, you still couldn't shake away the bitterness and just wanted to curl away in your bed, eat some strawberry ice cream and watch ‘Casablanca’.

But here you were, in a black dress that glittered under the light, your hair styled in lazy but not messy curls, and your over-expensive white heels. You looked like the IT girl that every man would want for them selves, to put you on pedestal and admire you.

(Y/n) leaned back in the black leather seat before she took a deep sigh that was followed by pouting and throwing down rest of the Jack that was in her glass down her throat. It burned for a bit, but the sweet flavour of alcohol made her want to drink more, so she opened the half empty bottle and poured more of the honey-coloured liquid into her glass.

She leaned in close to her friend on the left and whispered,

"I need to go and check my make up. Save a seat for me, and dont touch my bottle, I will know if you do.",

you almost groaned last words since you knew well that your friends loved to mess with you.

The (h/c) girl now stood up, taking her light coloured purse that matched with her heels, in her hands and started walking towards the washroom of the bar.

The floor was wooden, hard wood, after all the bar was made to accommodate high class people and to draw in tourists who had a lot of money to spend. Her heels making a little bit noise as her steps collided with the floor. It was a southing sound, like when rain hits the metal.

Her hips swayed as her dress didn't quite hug her whole neatly shaped figure, so it swayed with her movements, glittering under the dim light of the noisy bar.

She had to watch every step since she felt that the alcohol was indeed kicking in, but the song playing on stereos drew her attention and just for a tiny moment she forgot completely that she had heels on.

"Shit-", you muttered loudly as your purse left your hands and you could see the dark wooden floor getting close to you now, but you weren't colliding with it, instead you felt stern grip on your waist, feeling the coldness of someones hand that went straight to your skin, under the dress. You furrowed eyebrows before looking up, facing a, without any exaggeration, handsomest man you ever laid eyes upon.

His eyes, blue as the sea in mid July in the noon, almost glittering like a waves when they shine under the hot sun. His smell now invaded your nostrils touching your senses, stimulating them, wanting more of it. It was pine mixed with old brand of ‘denim’, manly but still subtle, just enough.

He smiled at you softly looking into your eyes, not breaking eye contact once.

"Careful now lass, we don’t want any broken bones yet, the night is still young eh?..", he spoke with thick and extremely attractive (for some reason) Scottish accent and she took deep breath in, as the man slowly placed the girl in front of him back on her legs, parting his hand with her waist. The girl licked her lover lip, realizing now that she was blushing way more than it was appropriate for this kind of situation and softly muttered, "Sorry.. The heels..", under her breath before she walked pass the man and disappeared into woman's washroom.

Mactavish however trailed her with his eyes, her long and subtly toned legs, and the way the subtle cutout on her dress reviled a bit of her thigh. She was clearly in distress and he couldn't help but chuckle a bit to himself as he picked up her purse from the floor and sat down in the nearby booth with Simon.

"What the hell was that?", Riley said as he took off his black leather jacket, placing it next to him.

"It was like some scene out of those old movies mate. Its like, in that one moment, universe existed to put us together.", John smiled to himself, also placing his jacket next to him, being a bit surprised at his own words, he wasn't cheesy, but romantic? He was that.

And he would never let any of his friends know that since well, it was an army and he didn't need Ghost going around the base telling everyone that their captain was softie.

"Since when are you that cheeky eh? Maybe Price doesn't make you do enough pushups at morning." Simon smirked at his friend and raised his hand to call the bartender,

"Its a quote, some of us are literate cinema vise mate", Mactavish smirked back at him leaning over the table, trying to reach for his cigars in his back pocket, "But she is bonnie, nonetheless.".

In washroom you tried to steady your breathing. You put your hand on your chest and closed eyes, but the only thing you could see was the man's eyes and his face. Girl quickly opened her eyes and looked at her reflection in big mirror that was placed on black and white tiles. (Y/n) looked at her face, noticing few spots where her make up was messed up, she pouted a bit and reached down on the sink for her purse, but her palm was met only with cold marble sink.

You quickly shot your gaze towards your hand, with your eyebrows furrowed. Eyes darting across the sink, around it and eventually around the whole washroom then the realisation hit you like a heavy boulder- you dropped your purse when you tripped, when he grabbed you.

"For fucks sake..", you muttered under the breath. It was enough humiliating that probably whole bar watched you stumble around like a new born deer and almost kiss the floor, but now you had to go retrieve your purse that was probably still on the ground and go back to washroom again looking like a lost highschool girl on the party.

You shook your head and realised that stupid anxiety attack got your judgment clouded- people fall every day, and they drop stuff everyday too.

The girl now straighten her posture, fixed her hair a bit and opened the door, exiting the cool room she was in before heading to the booth were she dropped her purse, but to her surprise the purse was not on the floor instead she heard familiar thick accent from the booth next to where she was standing,

"Looking for this lass?", the man waved with her purse smiling at her with one of his brows raised, his friend watching her, waiting for her next move.

You swallowed a big gulp, approaching the booth were the men were sitting slowly, taking your purse from the blue eyed man,

"Yes, thank you. Saving me from embarrassment.. Very noble of you.", you said with a now confident voice, not breaking eye contact with him. There was something about him, something unexplainable. It was like that with every second she looked at his face, at his slightly parted lips as a little smile formed on his face, you were losing grip on the time it was like a whole universe worked for you and him.

"Glad I could help ma'am. Those shoes do look dangerous, better watch your step.", the man spoke and she smiled at him, shyly nodding and turning around, breaking the eye contact with him, slowly walking towards her own booth where her friends were loud and drunk.

But every step you took was heavier than the last one, you didn't want to go there, you wanted to sit with him, smell that invading pine again, feel his touch again.. Was this alcohol that was in your bloodstream?

You stopped suddenly and took a deep breath, before turning on your heels and going back to the two man who were now smoking, their drinks were on their table as well.

"Oh screw it. Universe, dont make a fool out of me!", you thought internally as you approached back their booth, and both men looked up at you again.

"Do you need some help lassie? Are you feeling well?", the blue eyed man asked. You actually just now noticed that he had his hair styled as a mohawk and it suited him so nice, the scar over his eye stuck out as well.

You snapped out and shook your head in denial,

"Would you mind if I joined you for a drink?",

Ghost cleared his throat and looked away with a huge smirk over his face, avoiding John’s stern look. Mactavish moved himself to the left, leaving vacant place for the girl to sit and nodded his head down while putting out cigar that was already burned.

You sat next to him, smiling and biting inside of your cheek, leaving your purse on the edge of the table waving to the bartender to get his attention, you showed him universal sign for ‘another bottle’ and the man nod to you.

You returned your attention towards two men who were gazing at you the whole time.

"So, who wishes to start this AA meeting? How about you sir?", you pointed at men across from you. Both men cracked at your joke before the one you pointed at started talking,

"Name's Simon, that’s Soap- I mean John..", Simon barely held in his laugh looking away from the pair. You looked at men next to you and his jaw was clenched, he obviously didn't like that one.

"Y/N, nice to meet you fellas. This night needed some life in it. I was dying of boredom over at VIP's. Some fresh environment is nice..",

you smiled at John who was downing his beer, slowly he nod at the girl and the bartender finally came with your new bottle of Jack and three glasses for each of you.

"Put it on my bill, thanks.", you said and John eyed you as you opened the bottle of whiskey and poured everyone about a half of the glass, raising your own towards him as you finished. You smirked a bit, leaning towards him, unintentionally, your thigh subtly brushed against his light blue denim jeans.

"Cheers to not breaking bones and to concerned strangers.”, you said the words, slowly looking up at his eyes yet again.

John looked down at you, slowly colliding his glass with yours.

"Well, cheers to me I guess..", Simon muttered to himself and downed down the glass. You couldn't help but laugh sincerely, John joining you while rolling his eyes at Simon,

"Ghost getting ghosted, this will be the story to tell the mates back at camp for sure..".

You raised your eyebrow in confusion, leaving your glass on the table and crossing your legs, leaning back,

"Camp? What are you two like some secret agents or something?", you asked and John and Simon talked to you about their job deep into night. They explained their line or work as subtle as they could and shared some of the funniest moments from their missions with you.

John enjoyed your laugh, the way you blushed when you caught him looking at you, avoiding his gaze, how well your lips were glossed and your perfume that made him want to invade your neck and collarbone with small and soft kisses. He also noticed how soft your skin was when he "accidentally" touched your hand as you were reaching for the bottle, wanting to pour another drink.

It was about 3 in the morning when you turned around towards the bartender who was next to you, telling you and your new friends that the bar is closing in about five minutes. Your friends left long time ago, too drunk to even notice that you were gone or that you were now sitting elsewhere.

"Oh come on Gorge! Cant you see how much fun we are having here? Can’t you just lock us in or join us?", you blinked innocently at the bartender and it made man blush, ofcourse that didn't go unnoticed by Mactavish who cleared his throat subtly and put his hand around your shoulder. You turned your head, raising eyebrow at him and questioning what the hell he was doing.

"Come on lass, man has a job to do, a boss to answer to. We will get you to your hotel eh?", you chuckled at him, now relaxing into his touch, and he loved it. He softly rubbed exposed skin on your shoulder with his thumb and you inhaled sharply, smiling at him reaching for your purse and pulling out keys from your car,

"I drank a lot.. Who is driving lads?",

You closed the door of your Porsche and could hear Simon in the back seat whistle,

"It even has leather inside and tv in the back of the seat. Of course it does.. For gods sake (y/n), you could've just told us that you are rich. We would've distanced from you.", Riley made a joke and you laughed, turning around in your seat looking at Simon, as John started the car, slowly advancing towards the main street.

"I wouldn't trade time I had with you boys for nothing in this world. I haven't laughed like that in ages..",

Riley now looked at Mactavish on review mirror smirking,

"Soap, drop me off first and then take (y/n) back to her place. Base is just around the corner it will save her some gas.".

You eyed man who was driving now, waiting for his response, he groaned in response then he nodded slowly looking at you, before returning eyes to the road that was empty. The city was in deep sleep.

John parked infront of some old looking house and Simon chuckled, "Well this is my stop. I'll see ya in the morning mate, don't forget to freshen up, we will need you frosty eh?",

Simon said before he slammed the doors shut and swiftly disappeared into the house.

You looked at John and pouted a bit, he looked and you and wiggled his eyebrows playfully,

"Where to miss?", he put up his best British accent and you couldn't help but laugh at how silly he sounded.

"With you? To the stars.." you leaned on his shoulder and kicked down your heels, tucking your legs under your tights.

Mactavish took a deep breath, inhaling the sent of your perfume, before he started driving again, he reached for the radio and turned it on.

A soft tune of "Midnight" song was on it and you hummed in approval.

"You know, I feel like I should've met you long ago instead of wasting my time around, not knowing where am I going, what am I doing. I wish this night could last forever John, I wish I could be stuck in it forever.."

The man smiled and reached for one of your hands, locking his fingers with your smaller ones, his eyes never leaving the road.

"I want to show you one place, if you are not up for sleep yet lassie?"

You parted your head with his shoulder to look up at him, his face being illuminated by dim street lights, he looked so soft and like he didn't have any worry in the world.

"Aye sir, I am in your hands for the rest of this trip." you joked and he let out a huffed laugh, bringing your hand closer to his lips, kissing your knuckles, you watched him carefully, biting your lower lip as you felt the warmth spread throughout your entire body from just that tiny exchange of affection.

John parked the car, pulled the break and turned the machine off. He leaned back in the leather seat and looked at you, smile creeping around the corners of his mouth.

"Take my jacket, it can be windy up here."

He said and reached in the back seat for his jacket, handing it to you. You took it into your hands and looked around you, it was quiet and dark all around. Not single lamp post or anything was in the vicinity, only the headlights that John left on, and the soft tune of radio that still played.

"There is nothing here, and honestly it feels like a horror movie. Am I about to be murdured  and thrown from this cliff John?"

Mactavish just chuckled and opened the car doors on his side,

"Do you trust me lass?", he asked as he leaned on the car roof, peeking inside and looking at you.

"Do I trust man I just met in local bar to exit my car, my only way of escaping, and obey him to walk into my own funeral? Sure yeah, here I come.." you said with playful tone as you stepped out of your car, flinging his black jacket over your shoulders and sliding your arms into it. It smelled like him and you buried your nose into the collar of jacket, closing your eyes and getting lost in the man's perfume mixed with aftershave. You were about to close the doors of the car when John cut you off,

"Don't close the doors, we won't be able to hear the music".

He was now behind you, towering over your smaller frame and your heart skipped the beat as you turned around to face him.

He slowly reached for your hips and without any hesitation or struggle, swayed you off your bare feet and lifted you up. You instinctively warped your arms around his neck smiling at him.

"You need to stop watching that many horror movies, they will rot your pretty brain"

He smiled at you with his eyes, looking down at your parted lips. Your face being right infront of his, possibly few inches away since he could feel your breath on his skin, and you could feel his. Blush creeped around your cheeks and he put you down on the hood of the car that was still warm from the engine. Your hands left his neck, but he still remained between your legs, not letting your hips just yet. You could've swore that his eyes were shining that night, you knew it was not possible, that your brain was seeing tings the way it wanted to, but you still chose to believe that impossible was possible in that moment.

His shadow that was casted due to headlights now moved, and with deep inhale his grip left your hips and you bit your lip. You felt disappointed and empty, you wanted him to lean in closer, you wanted to taste him and to seal the deal, but he moved away, hopping on the hood with ease, next to you, and leaning down on the windshield, one hand behind his head and other stretched out across the hood. He wiggled his eyebrows at you and slowly nodded towards his hand.

You pouted but soon enough curled against him, resting your head on his arm and softly gliding your hand over his chest, feeling his heart beat under your palm.

In response he softly put his fingers in your hair, massaging your head in circular moves.

"Look up lass, the sky is beautiful tonight. No clouds, just stars blinking and shining somewhere out there, far, far away. Haven't seen this in a while."

You listened to his words and followed his gaze up towards the sky. He was right, it was indeed beautiful. Dark blue mixed with dozen blinking lights looking back at you and him. Moon was nowhere to be found however. And then it struck you, the whole moment was inscribed into your memory- his soft breathing, the glitter in his eyes, the soft music that was playing from inside the car, the murmur of water somewhere in the distance, the ruffle of the leaves and grass that were moved by soft breeze and your eyes watered a bit, you really wanted to live in this moment forever, to lie on his arm forever and to gaze at the same stars forever.

John noticed the hard breathing next to him and faced you with soft smile "Dont cry lass, I more like you smiling, it suits you better. Can't say the same for those shoes.. Those didn't work for you that well eh?" you chucked through the tears and felt his thumb on your cheek as he wiped one stray tear.

"I just want to be here forever.. Like this. With you next to me. If I had one chance to freeze the time it would be right now, right here with you so I could look at your eyes filled with thousand stars forever, counting them slowly one by one, never getting bored of you." the girl said softly pulling herself closer to him. John smiled and kissed her hair softly.

"Funny how you are telling me the words I should be telling you bonnie. Maybe this is just a dream eh? Maybe we will wake up from it feeling empty..I know that I will miss you when I am gone.. Now, tell me who broke your heart?"

John said with whisper, still gazing up at the stars, slowly closing his eyes.

"Life did. But its nothing you can't fix.." you said quietly, blushing and looking up at him. He opened the eyes and looked back at you, his eyes trailing every line of your face, trying to remember all the features of it as he leaned in and slowly kissed your forehead.

"Dance with me?" He asked and you smiled up at him.

"I dont have any shoes on." you replied as with one swift move he pulled you off the car .

"That is nothing I can't fix." he smirked a bit and lifted you up from the car, telling you to stand on his shoes.

"John no, I am heavy." you chuckled as his hands held you close to him, his hands under his jacket, one placed on small of your back and one firmly held your hip, your feet now on his shoes, and he started moving slowly in tune of "Gloria" by Midnight that was on radio station at the moment.

"Bollocks, you are light as a feather, I can't even feel you. Do you even eat something or you just drink every day?" He joked and you laughed, throwing your hands over his head, locking them behind his neck.

"Captain Mactavish, stop teasing me and kiss me. I demand that action." you ran your hand over back of his head, feeling the tingles on your palm from his fresh shaven hair cut.

He looked down at you, lingering his eyes on your lips that were smirking a bit, slowly closing distance between the two, teasingly.

He pressed his cold lips on yours and you closed your eyes, wanting to remember every single moment and every move he made.

He slowly moved his hand up and down your back, inviting you to deepen the kiss which you accepted. He kissed you slowly, with passion with every move. He was spilling all of his emotions right then and there, he held you like was afraid that you will disappear from his arms, like he wouldn't be able to touch you or feel you. Your heart feel heavy, and you swore he could hear it since it was crashing against your ribcage. 

John slowly parted with your lips, looking into your eyes, his forehead resting on yours,

"After I am done with next mission, I will steal you and take you away so we can count all of the starts together, alright?" He asked and you nodded in approval slowly.

"Promise you wont forget?" You blinked up at him and he softly leaned in and kissed your lips again, kiss that was assuring and warm.

"I will be back in two days, wait for me here and be ready for a trip.", he softly brushed his nose on yours and you smiled wide at him, the universe was on your side, fate was on your side. It gifted him to you, to keep him and to cherish him, that whole night was like a fever dream, it almost didn't feel real- but it was. He was there and you were with him, swaying to the music slowly, kissing and feeling each other praying that sun wont come up just yet..

In two days you were at the same spot, your truck filled with all your stuff you needed.

You paced around the car excited, wanting to have his arms around you again, wanting to kiss him again... But he never showed up.

You never saw him again. You visited the bar often, you went to the house where you left his friend that night but the house was not there, it was demolished not long ago.

John disappeared without the trace, just the way he came into your life, unnoticed.

You never heard from him again. It was like that whole night was just a distant dream you had, and you would believe it if it wasn't for his jacket that was in your closet, his smell still lingering on it.

Years have passed, you never quite moved on, settling for a man who was nothing like John, but he cared for you, he really did.

Treating you right, bringing you flowers for every 14th of February, never forgetting anniversary or your birthday.

He didn't have stars in his eyes, he never took you to that place, never made you fall in love with him in bare hours, but he was enough. You had a nice house in nice neighbourhood and you lived a nice life with him.

You were at kitchen, preparing a lunch for your husband and you, when you heard a bell ring of your doors. You swiftly cleaned your hands and rushed to open the door.

"Yes?" You said as handle turned and the door opened.

Man who you never met before stood before you. He had small blue eyes, his beard was a bit weird but it suited him nice. He had a brown hair, and looked like life never treated him with ease.

"Can I help you sir?" You questioned the stranger and he nodded affirmative

"You are a hard one to find (y/n). Took me long enough.. Name's John Price, I have something for you.", he said and pulled white small envelope from his pocket handing it to you

"What is this sir? How do you know my name?" He smiled sadly at you and turned around being ready to leave when he stopped in his tracks, not facing you still.

"I am sorry. Wish I did more." .

He said and you were more confused than ever, you watched as man left your property and you closed the door, looking at the envelope that was in your hand. It was a bit heavy, but only on one side of it.

You rushed to the living room, where you sat down and opened it.

Dog tags fell out from them, they were cleaned recently, but the rust on them was noticeable still.

"John Mactavish"

ARMY

Some numbers and rest were scribbled from them.

Your heart dropped and your lips parted, eyes already filled with tears that slowly left your eye, falling down your cheek.

In the envelope was also a paper, it had blood stains on it. You tried wiping your eyes and reading it.

"I want to invite you for a walk,

To a quiet place; In the moor.

When the breeze sings midnight,

One if those nights- the moon is full.

A restless pounding invades in my heart,

When I think of my confidants-

The stars.

If they could only speak ,

What would they say?

If you could hear them talk.

For they know of my fondness for you,

And that in my thoughts

There is no other one.

If only the stars could speak

They will tell you that I love you,

They would ask you,

To love me back."

You hugged the peace of paper like it was John himself and let your tears fall freely whispering to yourself and to the paper like he could hear you, like he was the one in your arms instead of this bloody peace of paper.

“I do love you John.. I never stopped.”.

A soothing closure fell over you. Now he was the star somewhere up in the sky, looking over at you every night you faced the sky, waiting for you to join him one day.

[writethehousedown]

And The Livin's Easy, Chapter Four (Multi) - Zyan

a/n: day 4 is upon us and i tried my best at keeping a balance! hope you like it 💗 thanks to frey for beta-ing. my sideblog is @chachkisalpaca !

It doesn’t take long until Gigi shoots Crystal a DM on Instagram, and Crystal replies with her usual wit, clearly glad to hear from her again.

Their conversation flows naturally, and they hardly let go of their phones throughout the rest of the day. On Gigi’s side, the girls pester her at all times, trying to get a peek at the handle of the mysterious woman she’d hooked up with at the beach — at some point, Gigi locks herself in the bathroom to text Crystal in peace, and only comes out when Nicky threatens to post to her Instagram Stories a video of that one time she gave a motivational talk to a carton cutout outside of the club, completely shitfaced and convinced it was a real woman.

She vaguely tells Crystal that —without going into details about the video, clearly,— and Crystal feels relieved that she and Vanjie aren’t staying at the same room. She loves her friend, but Vanjie snores as loud as she speaks, and Crystal appreciates her personal space, something Vanjie rarely remembers exists.

Crystal checks the weather forecast and smiles upon seeing there’s another full day of heat and sun upon them. Tomorrow they’re going chasing waves at Waikiki along with Vanessa and April, and a thought sparkles in her mind.

She asks Gigi what is she doing the next day, and she replies by saying they still don’t know. Jan has been pleading them to go on this submarine to watch the fishes, Nicky just wants to hit any of the clubs in the city, Jackie and Brita prefer to go back to her uncle’s bar, and Gigi doesn’t even know what she wants for dinner.

She comments, trying to make it as nonchalant as she can, that she’s going to Waikiki with some friends to train, adding that the beach is beautiful and knows a place nearby with great drinks. Gigi sends her a pair of eye emojis before saying that maybe she’ll tell the girls about it.

Crystal goes to sleep with a smile, feeling like a giddy child.

*

“Don’t you think Gigi is acting weird?” Nicky asks Jackie, upon seeing Gigi willfully head to the water alongside with Jan and Brita. Jackie cocks a brow, scrambling to get the sunscreen from her bag.

“Yeah, I think so. I was surprised when she proposed coming to Waikiki, ‘cause, ya know, she hates beaches,” she replies absent-mindedly, triumphantly holding up the bottle and finally pulling her gaze to meet Nicky’s. “Do you think the mysterious woman is here?” Jackie inquires, starting to cover her body in sunscreen.

Nicky shrugs, pulling her knees closer to her chest, watching Jackie closely. She wonders for a moment if this is a good moment to talk about what happened, now that they’re alone, but Jackie’s been avoiding it for weeks, so she really doesn’t know if she’ll be willing to have that conversation.

Before she can say anything, Jackie turns her attention back to her with a sheepish expression.

“Can you help me with my back?” She asks, handing her the sunscreen. Nicky feels her face heat up as soon as she nods and Jackie turns around, the memories flooding back as her fingers spread the cream on her back.

Jackie shivers a little, but stays silent. Nicky exhales a breath she didn’t know she’s been holding and tries to find the right words to express the feelings bottled up in her chest.

But she can’t. She’s afraid she might make things go back to being awkward, as if they hadn’t just moved past that point. There’s a lot of things Nicky wants to say, though, but she’ll just let Jackie live.

“Done,” Nicky musters, setting the bottle aside and wiping the remnants of the sunscreen on her thighs. Jackie thanks her and adjusts her bathing suit as she stands up.

“You coming?” She asks, pointing at the rest. Jan and Brita are splashing Gigi, who just screeches and runs around, trying to escape from them. Nicky chuckles, but shakes her head no.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” she simply replies. Jackie cocks her head a little, opening her mouth to say something. Nicky continues before she can say anything, “I have a feeling it’ll rain,” Nicky explains, and an amused smile blooms on Jackie’s face.

“What? But it’s sunny as hell! And the weather forecast said today would be hot,” Jackie points out, but Nicky just shrugs.

“I have a sixth sense,” she says, matter-of-factly.

Jackie just chuckles, saying she knows where they’ll be if she decides to join them.

*

Crystal bites back a laugh when she meets Gigi, who’s sitting under a palm. She has two smoothies and a shit-eating grin.

“Took you long enough,” she says, handing her the smoothie. Crystal laughs wholeheartedly, settling besides Gigi and leaving her surfboard next to her.

She didn’t lie when she said she takes her training seriously; just because Gigi is hot and they have chemistry, doesn’t mean she’s going to push aside her obligations. At the end of the day, they have a normal life to come back to once the summer is over — and Crystal has a surfing competition to win in five days.

“You won’t be complaining when I win next week and I treat you to a dinner,” Crystal teasingly says, taking a sip from her smoothie. Though she secretly hopes she’s manifesting it into the universe — she could use that money to pay a good chunk of her student loans, aside from taking Gigi to dinner.

“I’ll have you know, I’m not a gold digger and I like complaining. You’re basically fucked,” Gigi replies with a wink. Crystal merely chuckles, bumping shoulders with Gigi.

“Well, if it’s by you, I don’t mind,” Crystal quickly quips, making Gigi snort and spit her smoothie.

“You’re nasty,” she says, smirking, wiping off the smoothie from her chin.

“You like it.” Crystal brings a thumb to the corner of Gigi’s mouth and wipes off some sneaky drops, and the action is so familiar, yet so different, that it sends a shiver down her spine.

Gigi clearly remembers it too, but she doesn’t say anything, just watches her intently with the same hungry eyes as that night at the beach.

There’s something about her that Crystal feels drawn to; like a moth to the light, she can’t help but to gravitate towards Gigi. It sounds stupid, because they’re properly known each other for a day and a few hours, but she feels as if it’s the only appropriate way to put it.

They talk about different topics, but all Crystal wants to do is close the distance between them and capture her lips in a kiss.

Gigi is talking about her major in fashion when the first drop falls. Soon, the pouring rain makes them aware of the dark clouds that had progressively covered the Sun. Something they hadn’t noticed, being too distracted with each other.

“My car’s down the street, follow me,” Crystal soon instructs her, using her surfboard as an umbrella.

They walk rapidly, though they stumble once or twice and bump into people thanks to the surfboard over their heads; with each step they take the rain becomes more aggressive. The people are already leaving, with their things half packed as they cram into their cars, and Gigi lets a sigh of relief when she sits in the passenger seat, that conveniently has a towel already spread out.

“That was for my friend, Vanjie, in case she came back with me,” Crystal explains unprompted, adjusting her seatbelt.

Gigi nods absent-mindedly, pulling out her phone from her shorts and dialing Nicky’s number — she always has her phone glued to her hand. It rings three times before she picks up.

“Geeg, where are you?” Nicky exclaims, there’s noise in the background and Gigi vaguely makes out the girls’ voices.

“I’m fine, I’m with Crystal in her car,” she says, letting it slip. But she figures now it’s not the time to play secretive. “Where are you?”

“Well, we’re going to the bus stop. Can you meet us there?” Gigi briefly glances at Crystal, who’s just staring at her with her brows knitted in a frown.

“I, uh, I guess I can, but—” She says something in French that Crystal can’t understand for the life of her, even though French is technically close to Spanish.

Gigi sighs in relief and bids goodbye to whomever she was talking to, turning back to look at Crystal.

“Would you mind if I come back to your place with you? Until the rain stops, I mean,” she says, and Crystal blinks repeatedly until she catches on with Gigi’s wicked grin.

*

Brooke’s Canadian politeness makes her unable to ignore Plastique.

She somehow regrets having used her as a rebound and at the same time not — Plastique is sweet, witty, and caring, and the fact that she seems to not have a clue she used to date Vanessa is a plus. She doesn’t act awkward around her or makes jokes about it. It’s nice.

Plastique sends her a photo of a bird she saw outside her window before the rain started, because she thought she’d like it, and Brooke smiles; it’s such a small thing, but it makes her giddy.

She giggles and soon hears Yvie mocking her from the other side of the room. Brooke rolls her eyes and throws one of the cushions from the sofa her way — sadly, it goes past her, and Yvie sticks her tongue out.

“Don’t you have a lifeguard to thirst after?” Brooke bites back, making Yvie shut her mouth. But it’s only a matter of time before she speaks again.

“I mean, yes, but it’s funnier to be a pain in the ass for you,” she quips nonchalantly, and Brooke cocks a brow.

“Weren’t you the one telling me to move on just a couple of days ago?” She inquires, and Yvie rolls her eyes.

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean I like seeing your ass go back into a lovey-dovey mode. It’s disgusting,” Yvie says, doing an exaggerated disgusted face, and Brooke laughs loudly.

“Shut up and do me a favor — go get busy with the lifeguard and leave me alone, would you?” Brooke requests, throwing another cushion towards Yvie and hitting her in the face. She laughs, pleased, and Yvie throws it back at her.

“Her name’s Scarlet,” she says, “and I might just do it.” Yvie stands up, putting her phone in her pockets and heading towards the door.

“Don’t scare her off with your niche horror movies yet!” Brooke exclaims before she leaves.

Yvie flips her off and shuts the door behind her, Brooke chuckles just as a new text from Plastique comes in.

*

Gigi comes back way past after the rain ended and avoids all of her friends when they ask why did she come back so late — she just tells them she was busy with Crystal. And it takes them less than a minute to put two and two together and figure out that’s the name of the mysterious woman.

They decide to not push it, because even if Gigi has quite a few hickeys, she seems fine, and the dumb smile on her face makes them believe they shouldn’t worry.

Still, Jackie finds it hard not to worry, because she’s their mother hen after all, and she cares deeply for each one of the girls. Some more than the others.

Jackie’s gaze lingers towards Nicky, who’s leaning against the window with her cigarette dangling from her lips. She feels a knot in her stomach when the vision becomes too familiar — it makes Jackie regret not taking the opportunity to talk things out earlier that day and chickening out instead.

They’ve been acting like this for months, ignoring the elephant in the room, the writings on the wall — you name it, they’ve avoided it. Sometimes Jackie swears the girls know, when they shoot her sympathetic glares or joke about Nicky wanting to sleep with Jackie and vice versa.

If only they knew the truth.

Sometimes she misses waking up with Nicky and sneaking out from the others to make out, or how their hands found each other in a crowded space and even when they were alone, they wouldn’t let go.

Jackie misses all of that, but what she surely doesn’t miss is Nicky’s indecisiveness on whether or not she wanted a serious relationship with her.

[cruzrogue]

F’M Smoak Part II

#Fictober19 @fictober-event

————————————————————————

for fanfiction:

Prompt number: Prompt 31 “Scared, me?”

Fandom (AU if applicable): #arrow fanfiction #olicity

Rating:PG13

Warnings/Tags:  Fluff (friendship)

Thomas Merlyn/ Felicity Smoak/Oliver Queen

Summary: Continuation from F’M Smoak Prompt number: 5  “I might just kiss you.”

Notes: Halloween Bash and Felicity takes the stage. F’M Smoak is has an appearance at Verdant for a one time performance.

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

I want to thank @fictober-event​ this was a blast! Thank you!

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

​F’M Smoak Part II on A03

.

Verdant has been gearing up for the Halloween Bash. Tommy loves this holiday. He revels in being someone different and watching people be more enticed to party with as the added bounce to their normal festivities. Having a club, he can decorate as he sees fit keeping of course within a budget. He needs the club to turn a profit. Choosing the orange and black theme. Plenty of pumpkins and black cats, spiders, crows with the usual skulls, witch’s hats, and a few more Halloween décor choices.

He is excited that Felicity is helping him with a few designs. Using this to cover why they are spending loads of time together lately. He excitedly got her aboard to be one of the main event singers. She even deciding to write an extra song or two. That means he hired a local garage band to work with her. It has been so cool to see her walk in and meet the band members. Her squeaky-clean image throwing the grunge band for a loop.

“Tommy?”

Tommy moving some crates around. “Yea?”

“Why is Felicity’s name on some of these foam things?”

Tommy looks at the designs that will be used for the bash and he just shrugs, he promised Felicity that Oliver wouldn’t find out about this. The man is set to go on a trip with his mom and sister to visit a family member and won’t be here for this particular event. It’s the reason Felicity signed on to do her comeback for one night.

“What makes you think those have anything to do with Felicity?”

“Tommy? It’s her name. I may be dense at times but I know Felicity’s initials.”

“Of course, you do, you probably know all sorts of little facts about her.” Oliver gives him a dead stare. “What? You probably do and I’m not taking back that comment.”

“Well?”

“Felicity’s been helping me with designs maybe she took a break and did her name…” He won’t say she hasn’t helped him. She’s been busy practicing with her band. He admits she’s even better than he remembers.

Oliver goes to where the large cutouts that say ‘F’M Smoak’ are and counts a few. “There is about half a dozen here.”

Tommy just waves his hand, “Maybe it’s a prank I’ve set up and don’t need your disapproving overprotective tendencies when it comes to her.” He can see Oliver’s demeanor change as the man is super protective. “You’ll be away anyhow and…”

“No, I won’t.”

“No. You won’t, what?”

“My aunt is coming here to Starling so change of plans.”

“Oh. Does Felicity know?”

“No. Why should she? What are you planning Merlyn?”

“Whoa, you only call me by my last name when your peeved with me. Are you jealous?” Oh, yea the boy is jealous he can practically see the fume come from the man’s nostrils.

“No. You still haven’t answered the question.”

“There is nothing to tell.” Tommy goes back to moving crates. “If you are going to stand there like a stalk you can help me out here.”

“There is something going on.” Oliver does move to help move some crates. “Since you and Laurel are off the table…”

“I’m not seeing Felicity. You don’t have to worry.”

“I’m…”

Tommy puts his hand up as he makes a growly sound. “I wouldn’t go behind your back and you can shove this denial shtick with me.”

“Tommy, I’m sorry. It’s just everyone expects… you know what forget it. Let’s just get these crates moved.”

“Okay, I get it now. At first, I didn’t. I admit I acted like I did but I really didn’t. For that I am also sorry.” Oliver with one of the last crates that need moving looks at Tommy confused. “The laurel bit, the trying to act like 5-years never happened, a few little things. Like acting like everything is okay when it’s not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s start by me telling you. Felicity is a great catch. You know. I know it. Someday the man who is lucky to have her will know it.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you should hear it out loud, maybe even hear this over and over that she is thee catch. I also think you should not start anything with her until you figure your shit out.”

“Then why tell me this?”

“Oliver! It an incentive.” Tommy shakes his head. “We aren’t those dickheads of our youth anymore. I know I want more. And you know damn well you do to.”

“It’s complicated.”

“When is it not? Life is full of crappy situations but it also has these moments. Ollie don’t be so afraid to live.”

“It’s more not wanting to see her hurt.”

“You know that is a copout, right?”

“Tommy?”

“Hey, I didn’t know I was going to lose my best friend five-years ago. Not once during my grief did, I wish our history stopped existing.”

“What’s your point?”

“That no one is guaranteed a tomorrow. If there is a chance that you can make her happy than it’s worth the gamble.” He can see Oliver just begin to think things over. “Just figure your shit out first!”

“I wish it was that easy.”

“Yea well join the club. If things were that easy, we’d all be happily in love.”

Oliver takes a breath but he asks one more time because the thought came back, “Are you going to tell me the truth about those foam pieces?”

“Nope.” Tommy moves around the bar. “If I were you, I would stop by Verdant tonight.”

Oliver looks around the club. It actually looks really good and that cauldron front center to the stage he wonders how that’s going to look when everything is in motion. “You need any help setting up?”

“Nope, the crew will be here soon. All the last-minute touches will be handled. You go hang out with Auntie Beatrice.”

“Fine. I’ll see you later.”

Tommy wants to tell the man not to text or call Felicity that his plans have changed. Now that Oliver has left, he can place the pamphlets that holds the main attraction the reason the place is going to be packed. F’M Smoak is preforming tonight and her music sample is available online. With his panache of adding some videos taken of her college hey days it brought buzz thank goodness Oliver is so not into trends.

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

“Tommy! Tommy!” Felicity scrambling around the crewmembers that are putting the last bites of the pieces for tonight bash. “Tommy? Where are you?”

“Hey there superstar.”

“Oliver, hasn’t left. He’s still in Starling.”

“I know.”

“You know. Yea he told me not that long ago.” She’s fidgeting. “I can’t. I just can’t perform.”

“Why not? You sound amazing.” Tommy makes a gesture of rocking it. “Are you scared of a few people rocking it to your music?”

“Scared, me?” Felicity continues, “I… I didn’t think Oliver would be here. He says he’ll be passing by. I just can’t…”

“Yes. Yes, you can. Girl you are amazing. You’ll be in disguise. The music will speak for itself.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to do this.”

“Felici-ty, think of this as something years in the making. You know the club owners and you’ve got the voice.”

“Fine, I know your right.”

“Good, because I know you got this. Go get yourself transformed and become this amazing F’M Smoak I know you are.”

He watches her leave and is glad she listening. Taking a look at the amazing setup that Verdant has done he can’t wait to open the doors in less than an hour. If Oliver comes, he hopes seeing what he is dubbing Ollie’s girl up on stage will shake the man unto his core.

As Tommy gets his crew ready. He goes through the drill. Making sure his people work safe yet keep an eye out for any disorderly clients. People having fun and remembering a good night is all he wants. As the time dwindles down, he calls out, “All right people show time. You all have this. Let’s make this Halloween Bash be the talk of town. Best service, great atmosphere and one hell of a night of musical performers.” Here his crew cheer on everyone is ready. Doors open and the costumed guests start to fill in.  

The music begins to play as the bar fills up. Tommy goes and checks on his musical guests, Thanking them all personally again. He notices he can’t find his number one girl. A little worried until her voice calls to him and he gets a good look at Felicity.

“Whoa.”

“Tommy?”

“Nah, wow you look amazing.” He gives her another look over. “I love the Goth you, not that the blonde you isn’t spunky.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment I think.”

He just chuckles, “Well I can’t wait to your set.” He can visually see her take a moment. She looks nervous. “Hey, you can so do this. F’M Smoak can. Knock them out of their boots.”

As her time comes, she goes up on stage. She’s glad that the lighting keeps her from truly focusing on any person. This way she can just sing to the crowd and not see any familiar faces, one especially.

Tommy is amazed as he watches her first set. He is singing along until he gets jabbed in the side and smirks to see Oliver make his presence known. The man is taking in the foam signs as his eyes fall on the singer. Tommy can pinpoint the moment Ollie recognizes Felicity and wow he doesn’t know which show to watch because Oliver is entranced and it’s like watching a movie as the most stoic man is showing so many different sentiments. From surprise all the way to lust.

Felicity words capturing the audience as her voice rocks the club.

“I'm kicking all the doors down I swear I'm gonna pull you out 'Cause your demons have been screamin' loud Na na-na-na na Throw me up against the wall There's nothin' that could scare me now Na na-na-na na”

She does a few more known songs and when she’s down the roar of the crowd clapping has her take a bow and then she moves to go back stage. Oliver is already moving quick. Tommy trailing behind he does not want to miss this.

Taking an offered water bottle Felicity chugs it. She is so glad this is over. She doesn’t know if Oliver caught her performance. Its freaking her out. She has no idea what he’d say or do and he’s only ever seen her be his tech girl.

“Felicity?”

His soft voice, she never noticed him sneaking up on her. She’s afraid to turn and see. As he calls out to her again, she tightens her closed eyes. She’s afraid of the disappointment she’ll see. He comes around to face her and she finally gazes at him. His blue eyes mesmerizing.

“I didn’t know but you were amazing.”

She’s stunned. Though his brightening smile gets her to smile.

Tommy watching this two fools dance around each other is sickening. “Well yea, you’ve always known she’s amazing.”

Oliver gives his best friend a dire look. Tommy just shrugs. These two aren’t going to move faster than a glacier so he goes back to front to watch the next act.

“You think I did good?”

“I do.” He’s really rattled by her look. He’s really digging it. “You also rock this getup.”

“Its something of a vintage. I first met Tommy wearing this.”

“Wait? What?”

“During some of my college days I may have also dabbled with music.”

“And you met Tommy than?”

“He was unreal and a perfect gentleman as he took a nice shiner to the face.”

Oliver is flabbergasted and actually recalls Tommy telling him about the black eye and his friend shrugging it off saying “The angelic voice was worth it.”

“The angelic voice.”

“What?”

“That is what he called you. This is what you’ve been doing all these weeks?” She nods. “I thought you and Tommy were getting chummy.”

“You did?”

“I almost wanted to give him another shiner to the face.”

“You won’t?”

He smirks, “F’M Smoak, I guess will never know.”

“Oliver, I’d like to get out of this ridiculous outfit.” She already grabbing a bag as she heading to where the foundry is. “I also have some…”

“Felicity?” he stops her.

“What?”

“You mentioned its only Halloween that you’ll where a mask. I was hoping to prolong the moment. Would you honor me with a drink at the bar?”

“Oliver, I would love to but there will be fans out there and…”

“And for a night, allow yourself to be the star, I promise to look out for you.” Getting really close to her as he whispers. “Tommy told be about the stalker.” He can see her processing that info but just nods as she takes his arm and the walk back.

The crowd loved her. For the rest of that night Oliver made sure she felt safe as she mingled with the fans. He enjoyed seeing her so out of the element for the quiet IT girl she has always portrayed to him. His girl is truly amazing and he promises himself that he won’t waste another second and ask her out soon. Though tonight F’M Smoak is in the house as Tommy gets her to do an encore.

.

.

.

This concludes the 31 days of Fictober!

Thank you!!!

.

song inspired:

Notes: https://genius.com/Valerie-broussard-deeper-lyrics

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

The first thing I noticed when I walked into Michael Bloomberg’s campaign headquarters in downtown Los Angeles was the wall of terrariums. For one brief second I wondered, staring at the multitude of tiny, meticulously groomed succulents clustered on a bookshelf that ran almost half the length of a cavernous, industrial-chic loft, if I had somehow misstepped and stumbled into an Anthropologie. But there was the former New York mayor — or at least, a cutout of him, propped up across from a huge white wall plastered with campaign signs.

It was still early in the morning, but the Bloomberg bus had already pulled up outside to drop off a group of gun safety advocates who had been touring the state and talking to local leaders. Staffers were setting up for a private roundtable with a local prosecutor and a LA city council member who had recently endorsed Bloomberg, placing a “Bloomberg 2020” screen in front of a giant mural of a pink-skinned woman in sunglasses with rainbow hair, spelling out “LA” with her fingers. Still stunned by the opulence of the space, I asked Lys Mendez, a spokesperson for the Bloomberg campaign, where they had found so many terrariums. “Oh, it came this way,” she said, shrugging. “We had to ramp up in California so quickly — we just took the office space we could find.”

Amelia Thomson-DeVeaux

It’s hard to avoid thinking of Bloomberg’s bid as a kind of political science experiment — a test of whether an elderly, extraordinarily wealthy ex-Republican can run a competitive campaign almost entirely on the basis of his own advertising and a big, generously paid staff. That experiment will play out across the country this week, when Bloomberg will finally appear on the ballot after a bizarre campaign in which he entered the race late, skipped the four early states and focused instead on winning the trove of delegates that await on Super Tuesday.

And California is, in many ways, the maximal test of Bloomberg’s strategy. He’s invested a lot in other big Super Tuesday states like Texas, but California is the state where his dollars should carry him the furthest, because its media markets are so expensive and the state’s large, diverse population makes it hard to set up an effective ground game.

His spending spree has certainly gotten him somewhere in California. Bloomberg is now polling around 13 percent in California, according to our average, up from 4 percent in January. But Californians also love to tell you about the self-funded candidates who have tried — and failed — to spend their way into public office. Take Meg Whitman, Carly Fiorina, Michael Huffington or Al Checchi. After this Tuesday, we’ll know whether Bloomberg will join that inglorious pantheon or whether California’s unexpected contribution to the Democratic nomination process is the elevation of a self-funded billionaire’s candidacy.

Right now, it seems like Bloomberg will finish in third or fourth place even though he has spent tens of millions of dollars in the state. But after seeing Bloomberg’s swanky office, I wanted to find out how ordinary Californians were feeling about his campaign. After spending several days talking to voters across Los Angeles, one thing became clear: Bloomberg’s spending has bought him notoriety, but hasn’t translated into widespread enthusiasm.

It’s hard to find a Californian who’s not aware of Bloomberg’s run, thanks to his advertising blitz in the state over the past few months. Since the beginning of the year, he’s spent more than $36 million on television advertising alone. “I’d describe it as a bombardment,” said Khalid Maznavi, 39, who is supporting Sen. Elizabeth Warren. “He’s there whenever I turn on the radio or watch TV. And it’s been like that for weeks.”

Bloomberg has dominated the airwaves in California

The estimated amount of money each active Democratic presidential candidate spent on broadcast TV ads from Jan. 1 to Feb. 27, 2020, in California-based media markets, and the number of times their ads aired

Candidate Estimated Spending on TV Ads Number of Airings Michael Bloomberg $36,270,860 49,506 Bernie Sanders 5,540,490 10,246

Source: Kantar/Campaign Media Analysis Group

Fueled by Bloomberg’s bottomless fortune, the campaign has also quickly assembled an enormous outreach machine to reach California voters. According to research by FiveThirtyEight contributor and political scientist Joshua Darr, Bloomberg now has the biggest footprint in the state, with 25 field offices scattered across California — just barely topping Sen. Bernie Sanders, who has 23 field offices.1

His rapidly expanding team is well-compensated for its time. As recently as last week, his campaign was “urgently hiring” for organizers who would be paid $18 per hour, well above the state’s minimum wage. Bloomberg has also amassed a wide network of high-profile local supporters and endorsers — like San Francisco Mayor London Breed and Michael Tubbs, the millennial mayor of Stockton — even though Bloomberg is relatively new to California, having only opened his first office in the state two months ago.

But on the ground in Los Angeles, Bloomberg fans were surprisingly hard to find. Some of the glitzy events sponsored by the campaign were relatively sparsely attended, despite the lure of free food and drinks and even a live band. In many cases, the people at the events seemed to have been drawn more by curiosity than passion for Bloomberg’s message. At an event at a restaurant in Chinatown, Ed Choi, 44, told me that he had “kind of lost track” of the presidential primary after his first choice, Andrew Yang, dropped out. He was impressed that Bloomberg had taken the time to hold an event in Chinatown. “It’s the first time I’ve been to one of those, so that counts for something,” he said. But he said he was there with an open mind. “I just need to know more about where he stands on the issues.”

Paul Chen, a CPA who was schmoozing with one of the hosts of the Chinatown event, said that he hadn’t made up his mind yet either, but if he had to choose a candidate on the spot, it would be Biden. He dismissed Sanders with a sentiment that was widespread among attendees, who were largely local businesspeople. “I don’t like the way he’s all about everything being free,” Chen told me. But he added that he wasn’t yet convinced by Bloomberg either. “He’s got the financial backing, but I’m not sure he’ll be accepted by mainstream Democrats. That could be an issue.”

Each time I set off in search of Bloomberg supporters at events across Los Angeles, his press staff warned me to make sure I wasn’t talking to a campaign employee. Only volunteers were permitted to share their opinions with journalists. It was often a struggle to find someone who wasn’t paid to be there and willing to talk about their perspective on the record. Bloomberg’s campaign has recently hired hundreds of paid influencers to get out the word about his campaign on social media and via text message. And although people at candidate rallies or events are normally happy to chat with journalists, a surprising number of people refused to talk to me or let me use their names. One man nearly ran away when I said I was a reporter, saying he would never hear the end of it from his Sanders-supporting friends if word got out that he was considering Bloomberg.

By the time I did stumble upon a diehard Bloomberg fan, waiting outside a Los Angeles soccer stadium for a get-out-the-vote event, it felt like I had sighted a rare bird in the wild. Fabio Sabzevari, 25, told me with great enthusiasm that he had been volunteering in the Northridge office for two weeks. “It’s simple. I believe that he’s the moderate candidate who can win against Trump,” Sabzevari said. “And he’s got the resources to fight Trump’s multibillion-dollar disinformation machine. Who else in this race can do that?”

But Bloomberg’s ability to pour millions into his presidential bid was not a selling point for everyone. “It is mind-boggling to me that someone purporting to be acting under progressive ideals would be wasting millions and millions of dollars basically trying to force people to vote for him,” said Rhiannon Wilson, 22, a Sanders supporter. Wilson told me that her aversion to Bloomberg went well beyond his political stances. She said she was “disgusted” that he was trying to buy the nomination.

That attitude was far from unusual among the Californians I talked to. Tessie Borden, 53, who is supporting Warren, physically recoiled when I brought up Bloomberg. “I would not vote for that man. I think he’s a Republican plant,” she said. I asked her what she would do if he won the nomination. She shook her head a little and said, “I would write in Warren.”

Even if Bloomberg does overperform in California, that sentiment is one he’s likely to face in other states as the primary contest moves forward. Bloomberg is gambling that Democrats will be drawn to him because of his claim that he’s a candidate who can win. His spending spree is part of that appeal for some voters, who look at President Trump and wonder if he can only be defeated by another billionaire. But Bloomberg’s cash-fueled strategy also seems to be earning him genuine animosity in other corners of the Democratic base. And if his candidacy survives past Super Tuesday, it won’t be easy to convince those voters that he can be trusted.

Nathaniel Rakich contributed research.

[littlebtswriter]

jungkook / sleepover

Hello! Can I request where you're best friends (but you've had a crush on them for a long time) with (either jungkook or yoongi, whoever you think the situation fits the best) and you have a sleepover with them, but you get a really bad nightmare while sleeping on the couch in their room. You end up crying and they pick you up and bring you to your bed and cuddle with you and they end up kissing you. (Sorry this is so long omg)

a/n: I’m so sorry it took me a while to post this! I’ve been having some writer’s block. I’m not entirely happy with how it turned out. But, I still think it’s pretty cute. I changed a few details, I hope that’s okay. Enjoy! ^^

“Hyung? Can you come look at my room for me?” Jin looked up from his computer and looked up to find Jungkook behind his chair, rubbing his shoulders.

“Why? What’s wrong?” He asked, pausing his game and turning his chair to face him. “Nothing. I just cleaned it and I wanted you to tell me if it looked okay.” He was looking down at his feet, his hands clasped behind his back.

“I guess so. Why would you want me to check though? Are you having someone over?” Jin asked with a confused frown. Jungkook looked up suddenly, his cheeks flushed. “Yes! I thought I told you. My-my friend is spending the night. We’re going to play overwatch together.”

“Oh, well that’s fine. I don’t know why you’re shy about it, or want to clean your room for him. He probably won’t care.” Jin said, shrugging his shoulders.

Jungkook sucked in a breath. “No, no, it’s not a guy. She’s one of my friends back from high school, remember? She comes over a lot to play video games.”

Jin remembered you know. You were the sweet girl that loved Overwatch and eating all their snacks from the pantry. But, you were spending the night? Jin didn’t think Jungkook was that kind of guy.

“That’s fine, kookie.” Jin started slowly, unsure how to word what he wanted to say. “Um, just … be careful. Make sure you use protection. And definitely ask for consent for everything you do, because you know how messy it-”

“Oh my god, hyung. No, it’s not like that! She’s just a friend.” Jungkook stuttered, his eyes round and his mouth open in shock. Jin’s eyebrows shot upward as he realized what Jungkook he had meant. “Oh, so she just wants to spend the night?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, okay then. That’s fine.”

Jin followed an embarrassed Jungkook to his bedroom and helped him straighten it a bit. He also went into the kitchen and put together some snacks for you both, setting them up on trays and pulling out some cokes from the fridge.

While Jungkook got the game setup, Jin made some little cupcakes with pink frosting because you were a girl, and girls liked pink last he checked. For the finishing touches, he added toothpicks with little cutouts of his face. If Jungkook was having a girl over for a sleepover, Jin was going to make it as fun and memorable as possible.

Yoongi came in the kitchen just as Jin was placing the last toothpick in the cupcake. “What the hell are those?” He asked, unable to hide a gummy smile as he peered down at the little pink cupcakes with Jin’s face on them.

“Jungkook’s having someone over so I thought I’d make them special treats.”

“You’re just going to embarrass the poor boy.”

“Wha! You think having your hyung who makes you fun snacks with his face on them is embarrassing! No, it’s caring and what I should do anyway.” Yoongi just shrugged and walked off after grabbing a bottle of water.

You came about two hours later, you arrived at their large household. It was always a bit intimidating when you first got there, with the security and how expensive everything looked. But, the boys always made you feel comfortable and at home.

“Hey! How have you been?” Jungkook grinned, welcoming you in with a wave. He was wearing his typical uniform of a white shirt, jeans, and timberlands, but still managed to look absolutely adorable in them.

You blinked fast, you had to get your head out of the clouds. “Pretty good, college isn’t what I’d thought it’d be. But, I’m fine.” You decided as he led you into the kitchen. It smelled amazing, like sausages and melting cheese.

“Is hyung Jin cooking?” You asked, peering at the trays of little snacks. “Yeah, he wanted to make snacks, I guess.” Jungkook said, grabbing one of the mini sausages and popping it in his mouth.

“Let’s go to my room, I have the game all set up.”

You hadn’t played Overwatch in a while. If you were being completely honest with yourself, video games weren’t really your thing. The ability to play them decently ame naturally to you though, so it was easy for you to hide why you really wanted to come over and play them.

Doing anything with Jungkook was fun. He was so weird and extra, just like you. When you’d come overseas as a foreign exchange student to his school, you both became fast friends pretty quickly. He wasn’t the best at talking to girls, but since you weren’t the girliest person, he seemed to often forget you were even a girl.

A part of you wanted him to see how much you’d grown since the last time he’d seen you. But, the other wanted things to stay as they always did, best friends doing dumb things together.

“Kookie, you’re not as good as you were the last time we played.” You remarked, as yet again Jungkook got hit by a stray bullet.

“I haven’t been able to play much because of the comeback soon.” He replied, his eyes glued to the screen. He got hit again and his screen went black. Groaning, he flopped back on the bed, covering his eyes.

“Wanna watch a movie instead? I’m just not feeling it today.” Jungkook sighed, rubbing his eyes. You shrugged, setting the controller down and pulling out your phone. You couldn’t help put peer at him every few seconds. He looked exhausted, but still wanting for you to be there with him.

“Do you want to watch horror? We can make your bed first and get some blankets from hyung Jin’s room.” He said, bouncing up.

You both liked the idea, and set about getting the room ready with blankets, snacks, and dimming the lights. Jungkook picked the movie. He enjoyed horror movies while you found them to be alright. You didn’t usually watch them since sometimes you ended up with night terrors. But, you weren’t going to tell Jungkook that and ruin the night over.

You both snuggled under the blankets, snacks in hand, and settled in to watch the movie. It was already pretty late at night since you didn’t decide to watch the movie until after playing the video games for a few hours. Yoongi came in at one point with messy hair and half open eyes to ask you both in a deep, sleepy voice to turn down the volume because he was trying to sleep.

You hadn’t expected the movie to be that gory and disturbing. You were clutching the blanket the entire time while Jungkook nearly fell asleep. By the end, you were completely on edge and your stomach was in horrible cramps.

It was after one in the morning when Jungkook turned off the tv with a yawn. “It was okay.” He murmured, stretching his arms.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, moving your aching legs from the bed. “I’m going to send some memes to our group chat, it needs some spicing up.” Jungkook called out as you stepped into the bathroom to brush your teeth.

He was a mess, but you still smiled.

Once you both were in the beds, side by side, you began texting each other memes and giggling like school kids. “We better be quiet before one of the hyungs comes in her.” Jungkook said through a laugh, burying himself in his blankets. You heard him let out a huge yawn in the darkness, before shuffling under the covers and going silent.

Was he already asleep? You turned over to look at him in the darkness, making out his shoulders rising and falling slowly. You sank back in your pillows, looking up at the ceiling. A sudden weight was in your chest and you found yourself looking around every few seconds.

Without anyone to talk to to fill up the silence, everything felt eerie and strange. You squeezed your eyes shut, longing for sleep to take you away from your irrational fears.

Why was your heart beating so fast? Swallowing, you look over at Jungkook again, who had rolled over on his back. His lips were parted, and his skin glowed in the dim light from the bathroom night light.

It was alright, Jungkook was here. It was just a movie. Nothing was coming for you. With those thoughts, you slowly drifted into an uncomfortable sleep.

Strange dreams kept drifting through your mind as you tossed and turned. The demon from the movie would appear, blood trailing down his chin and a grin forming on his thin face.

“You should honestly die.”

“How is this girl friends with Jungkook? She looks dumb.”

“I bet she just moved to Korea to go to his school and stalk him.”

The demon spoke, spittle flying from his mouth and landing on your cheek. You shuddered. He was quoting the messages you’d been getting on your social medias about Jungkook. Shaking, you screamed, trying to dream a different scene so the demon would go away. You felt as if he was strangling you. Arms closed around you at every side, twisting your body, breaking your bones.

You screamed, trying to pull away, trying to open your eyes.

“Hey! Wake up! It’s a nightmare.” Your eyes burst open and you gasp, leaping from the bed. Jungkook has his hands on your arms, holding you down.

“Are you alright?” He whispered, leaning on the bed. You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. You let out a sob. It was dark, your heart was pounding, you were drenched in sweat, and you just wanted to go home.

You tried to form words through your sobs, feeling humiliated that you were being so vulnerable to your best friend.

“I’m sorry.” You sob through hiccups, covering your face with your hands. Why was your heart beating so fast? Please don’t be a panic attack, you thought, not now.

“I-I want to go h-home.” You cry. You felt ridiculous. Had you, a college student, really just said that? But, it was true. You felt so uncomfortable being here in a strange bed with strange shadows on the wall.

Jungkook’s arms folded around you as he climbed onto the bed. If he was grossed or by the sweat coating your body, he didn’t say anything. He pushed your head into his chest, rubbing your back gently. You could feel his chest rise and fall against you, his steady heartbeat thumping against your ear.

He entwined his fingers with yours, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. You felt so dizzy as your breath quickened and your thoughts raced. “It’s okay,” He whispered, leaning his head atop yours.

“Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I set off the alarm in Ikea? Probably the scariest thing that ever happened. Worse is that is was captured on camera for everyone to see. My expression was hilarious. What is it the fans say? Jungshook. Yeah, I was jungshook.” He laughed quietly, staring at his hand entwined in yours.

You took a deep, shaking breath. His voice calming and sweet. Slowly, slowly you got your breath back and the world was no longer spinning.

“Do you want some water? Um, I can get you one of my shirts too since you’re sweaty.” He said, pulling away from you and looking you in the eyes. You nodded slowly, wiping your nose and eyes on your sleeve.

He gave you a pair of his boxers and one of his shirts and you walked with shaking legs into the bathroom to change. When you can back out, Jungkook was looking at your bottle of anxiety medication you’d accidentally left in your open bag.

“Is this for anxiety?”

“Yeah,” you said in a rasping voice, still feeling faint. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Jungkook set it down on the dresser slowly, handing you a glass of water. “I didn’t know you had anxiety.” He said slowly.

“Well, I don’t really tell anyone. It’s not something I’m proud of.” You replied, taking small sips of the water and nearly collapsing on the bed.

“Hey, I don’t care.” Jungkook said. “It only helps me understand you better and why you had nightmares s it’s fine. We all have struggles. I’m here to help you. Don’t hide stuff anymore. It hurts me when you do.”

You nodded, feeling more tears coming again. How did you ever get a friend like this? You both were silent for a little bit, sitting there in the darkness. Biting your lip, you look down at your bed and the dreams you had flashback, a noise from somewhere causes you to jump.

“J-Jungkook. Can I stay in your bed? I’m sorry.” You stammer, biting back tears. Jungkook nodded and waved your over with his hand. You gladly came to him, climbing in his bed.

He let you snuggle up to him, putting an arm around you. You laid your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, breathing in his soapy, warm smell. He rubbed your shoulder with his thumb, closing his eyes.

“Thank you,” You murmur, drifting off to sleep. He didn’t reply, only smiled slightly before falling asleep with your body close to his.

When you woke the next morning, both your bodies were facing each other. His arm around your waist and leg flung over your hip. You watched him sleep, feeling warm and soft inside.

His lips were parted, his dark lashes curved up, and his skin dewy and flushed.

You touched his cheek gently, and whispered, “I love you, Jeon Jungkook. I have for a long time. I hope someday you feel the same way.”

masterlist

[crown-eater]

Only the Vital Ones, Pt. 1

“In those days, desires weren’t allowed to become reality. So, fantasy was substituted for them–films, books, pictures. They called it ‘art.’ But, when your desires become reality, you don’t need fantasy any longer, or art.”–Amyl Nitrate, “Jubilee”

[ With Symbiotic Self-Indulgence, 3, Pts. I, II. ] [ The Uptake (table of contents)]

The small brushed steel kitchen table of Cecil and ‘Choly’s studio apartment abutted a full-height open-frame modular shelving unit, which doubled as a space divider between the kitchen and the daybed in the back corner that ‘Choly frequented whenever scaling the loft bed proved too taxing. Slumped at it in a dark tank top and his orange leggings, before the ex-stalker lay a quaint butcher-paper and twine parcel, a paring knife, and his reader on a kickstand. With the apartment to himself, ‘Choly surveyed some of the pieces in his drafts and rubbed at his marred face in a dull restlessness. Grazing his recent cheek suture, he flinched and stood, and he paced in the narrow track the length of the apartment which functioned not unlike a hallway.

Two years ago, such incisions would have been made in the spirit of verbot chasing. He sniveled in anger at the impotence of having had to make such a superficial adjustment for sake of his own clumsiness, rather than in the aftermath of risky enterprises. He'd tried several times to contact the Tellurides after the riots and subsequent quarantine, and he knew in his gut that all three of them had gotten walled up with the rest of the Quarter. And the Geek, and Chalcedony, too, for all he knew. His only solace came in knowing that at least his parents had moved back in together downstate before things had gotten especially hairy.

He returned to the kitchen and rinsed out a mug to pour himself a fresh cup of black coffee from the carafe Cecil had brewed for breakfast, and he sat again. Then, he snipped the string on the box and unfurled its wrappings. His horn-rimmed glasses came off and lay across the table from him as he continued massaging at his cheeks and chin and neck marbled with errant scars. He flicked up the messaging app frame and clicked on Augen’s active username, and sighed. Rather than initiate conversation, he produced from the small wax-coated cardstock box a decently-sized chalky pastel ball. He smoothed out the parchment with a detached free hand, and set down the ball of Confec atop it with the other.

The ball bore a mealy consistency somewhere between soap and fudge. A quarter-inch butt fell to the paper, and he stuck it in his mouth to let the hyssop-like bouquet melt on his tongue as he sank into his chair and hesitated on the chat he’d opened.

ketherphorbia: you’re up early 9augen: funny, i was just about to message you. not at the library today? ketherphorbia: no, and i’m not getting anywhere with what i <i>was</i> trying to do so you have my full attention 9augen: how does meeting up for lunch sound? ketherphorbia: i ketherphorbia: i just started in on a fresh confec bonbon, but yeah 9augen: the finnegans across the street from your old place? its on me ketherphorbia: something tells me you’re just looking for an excuse to milk their one-cred goldfinch lunch special 9augen: if you want a few, just say so. can you be there in... say, an hour? ketherphorbia: it honestly sounds fantastic. we can both talk. if you want

Still rattled from the abrupt invitation, ‘Choly put the knife in the sink and rounded the modular divider to rummage in the side-table drawers for something to throw on. First came his back brace, splints, and wrist braces, and he yanked together his salmon button-up, black sweater with the elbows cut out, and slashed jeans over the orange leggings. Taking his jewelry box into the bathroom, he then brushed his bangtails and tucked the right side back with his ABC-gum barrette. He hooked his new black acrylic skull-cutout gauge hangers into his ears, and plucked his balloon animal and saturn-symbol pendants to string around his neck. The spoon pin went in his left collar-point, and he sat on the daybed for his socks. On the way out the door, he tucked the wax paper wrapped Confec into his diamond-shaped cross-body bag and nabbed his cane, retrieved his glasses, and slipped into his mint creepers.

Along the short trip down to Level 5, he shot Cecil a short message:

|| Might not be home when you get off work. Augen invited me to lunch. He hasn’t said hardly a word since it happened, and I get the feeling he needs a friend right now. ||

Cecil replied to him as ‘Choly waved his pass and boarded the toll lift:

|| I can only imagine how hard it’s been for him. Hope he’s doing ok. You two have a good time. Love you. Give him a kiss for me ||

With a chuckle and a fish emoticon, ‘Choly exited the lift and hobbled down the street. He texted Augen that he'd arrived, asking where to meet him, because at first he didn't see him outside. Leaning on the front facade of the Finnegan’s, a tall gothic figure smoked religiously. The young man with dark hair pulled into a low messy bun wore a black button-down and drop-crotch pants, a dark grey knee-length gauzy vest, a large black shawl-scarf wrapped around his shoulders and neck, and mesh boots. Upon closer inspection, the combination of facial body mods--spider bites, gauged one-inch ears and 2ga medusa with glass plugs, symmetrical double brow piercings, and batwing clicker--confirmed for ‘Choly that this was his friend. Somehow, even with his suspicion as to why Augen had initiated the meeting, he’d still expected to find him his old self, and not this anxious chain-smoking human mess. Augen rolled his eyes at him, having just checked his messages.

“Word of warning, I’m a bit thrushed right now,” 'Choly blurted out. Rather than respond, Augen leaned down and steadied ‘Choly’s chin to give him a kiss. ‘Choly smiled strangely and reciprocated with a second peck, then navigated the awkward posture into a hug as he tucked his head against Augen’s chest. It unnerved 'Choly that his friend was no longer cold-blooded, no longer clammy and tepid, but he kept it to himself. “...Hello to you, too.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Augen rubbed at ‘Choly’s scruff and held the door for him. He eyed ‘Choly’s sweater dully in passing. “<i>Don’t Quit Your Daydream</i>, huh?”<br>

‘Choly looked down at the saying printed on his front once they’d cleared the atrium, and his brows upturned.

“Hah, maladaptive daydreaming. Had it for years. I just kinda threw something on so I wouldn’t run late.”

“Daydream... into a living nightmare...”

With the detached comment, Augen waved down a server to seat them. Marinating in his dissociative veneer, ‘Choly swallowed hard at the prospect of purposefully navigating his mental filter. They settled at a table amid the lunch traffic, and with a series of finger gestures along the tabletop which doubled as a touchscreen menu, both ordered pinzones dorados and got to glancing over their options in silence. The server, a young brunet named Bert, promptly came and left with their drinks, as well as a basket of multicolored meal-rinds and two dishes of salsa. 'Choly sipped at his golden glowing pinzón, a smooth over-ice mix of tonic, hydroponic mezcal, triple sec, and lime liqueur, and mentally praised the facility with which one could get drunk at any hour in this city.

“So... this is a thing now.” ‘Choly got a rind real heavy with salsa and shoved it in his mouth.

Augen knocked back half his liquor in one motion, and slouched over it.

“I’d lived myself so fully, that I’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be human. I’ve missed smoking, if we’re looking for an upside to all this.”

“There’s gotta be a way t’get back what you had. At least some of it?”

“That’s... just about the last thing I want to talk about right now. Past tense doesn’t feel so great.”

They used their mouths to crunch rinds and nothing else. Augen took a hit off the cig around his neck, and with a deep exhale he shut his sunken eyes, the vapors entangling with the odd abstract light fixture over the table. Once they'd placed their orders, 'Choly did his best to people watch behind a zoned out Augen, mostly observing the rotation of three servers popping in and out of the kitchen door with dishes. When a couple that sat on the same side of their far-corner booth thought 'Choly gawked at their unapologetic PDAs and gave him a stink-eye, he coughed, and started trying to read the pattern of scrapbooked web articles which plastered every wall and the ceiling of the restaurant. The theme of all the articles painted up Tri-City's sheer melting pot culture as a fusion city, boasting a collage of articles about people from just about every level in the hyper-metroplex.

Bert interrupted their silence with their meals, and 'Choly squirmed back to give the server the space to lay it out on the table. The teen couldn't hide a sigh of relief as he picked up one plate, and glanced between the both of them.

"Who ordered the wraps?"

Augen gave him a lazy hand gesture, and the plate slid over to him. On Augen’s plate of spring wraps lay six large seared shrimp. Sliced in half both for presentation and facility, the three girthy wraps were stuffed with a combination of mushroom slices, seaweed, and fried mealworms.

"And then, the benedict's yours. Extra sauce?"

"Yes, thank you," 'Choly lauded with a heavily modulated affect, as the other mess of a plate came his way. A viscous pale yellow-green mess blanketed two nondescript mounds of protein and bread, and along its side the cook had scattered soft, colorful citrus gummies. "So glad I can still get breakfast here this late."

"Is there anyth--" Bert broke off, unable not to stare at Augen, as he fished out a pair of napkin-rolled utensils to give them. Augen returned the stare, deadpan.

"...Spring wraps, and a side order of shrimp. It is you."

‘Choly gave the poor boy a glossy smile, about to praise how good it all looked, but he quickly drooped in recognition of the tension.

“So I took a bath today,” Augen dismissed, total fatigue in his voice. “Big deal.”

‘Choly coughed, cataract-bloom eyes wide as he took a stiff sip. Setting the pinzón back down, he tried to smile up at the waiter again, his voice cracking.

"Could we get more rinds?"

The waiter shook his head and shut his eyes, then nodded.

“--Sure thing.”

“And we already need another round of <i>birds</i>.” Augen traced the edge of the faded glass with one black-polished finger and a heavy-lidded, eyelined smirk.

The server flashed him a fake grin, poorly hiding his revelry that the city had defanged the loathsome goth.

“I’ll be right back.”

‘Choly fought with the self-conscious selfishness of directing the conversation to himself, but still he persisted, hoping to distract his friend from getting recognized by his typical order. ‘Choly unrolled his flatware to tuck the napkin beside his plate, and took up the table knife and fork with zeal. He didn’t want to admit it, but as had become typical in the past few weeks, the only thing he’d put in his stomach so far by that time of day was a slice of wax and half a cup of coffee. Augen took precise bites, holding his food gingerly with thoroughly ring-encrusted hands. His face stitched with a faint sweat which could have been from stress, the heat of the food, or even from the start of enebriation. 'Choly observed in distant and fascinated contemplation, unsure whether his friend derived his mannerisms from humanity or the vestiges of having so recently once been a hybrid. Augen shot him a vague glance, and he cringed from getting caught watching. ‘Choly pushed the sauce-drenched larva-hash back up on the one round bready thing he’d been cutting bites from, sheepish.

“If you don’t wanna talk about it, there’s gotta be something you can do to take your mind off it instead? Have you tried... writing, since...?”

Augen finished off the first drink right when Bert swung by two replacements and more rinds and salsa. ‘Choly hadn’t even drunk half of his first pinzón yet, and he nudged his new one his friend’s way, knowing the rate this meal was going. “Most of the time,” the goth mumbled, welcoming the offer, “my writing takes a particular head space. And I sure as fuck haven’t been in it.”

“I mean, like. Not in a carnal sense. Sort of in a carnal sense. An emotional sense? A purgative sense?”

Augen kept his eyes on his food, but his ears patently on his friend. ‘Choly’s hallmark withdrawn posture and tone signaled vague, incumbent rambling. With welcome resignation the goth listened, as he’d aspired from the start. After all, ‘Choly always had been the long-winded one of them.

“You... You remember how I was writing stories about me gettin’ with the Geek, but then I stopped abruptly? The last wip I posted before I stopped was right after I found out that the Geek and the Larva were the same person. Early on, the reasons I couldn’t reconcile with finishing the piece were ‘cause of how badly my first encounter with him went, but then fantasy turned into reality and he... caught me stalkin’ him and. You remember that right?” ‘Choly fished his reader from his bag, and tried to locate a picture in his camera roll. “I know I sent you a selfie of the black eye he gave me...”

“...You couldn’t shut up about it for a month. Heh.”

‘Choly looked up from his reader with a dull gloss to his features, and sniffed. “He even tracked me down, what, five weeks later? An’ things got super weird--" He chewed at his labret. "...I’m still trying to process everything that happened two years ago.”

“This is about the walls, isn’t it.”

“Not quite. And yet. Exactly. I just. I owe it to him to get the details right, don’t I? It feels real lousy to even consider writing a nonfictional account of him, and yet.” He popped an orange gummy in his mouth, and licked the thick, tangy sauce off his swan-splinted fingertip. “I feel like I need to get the very concept of him in print, to get it out from inside of me. I know it’s already been two years since the walls went up, but I don’t think it’s possible for me to forget all that... death, even for a day.” A grapefruit one, this time. “How do you stay motivated to write something that hurts and arouses you, both in ways nothing else has ever really managed to?”

Augen dipped a spring roll in his salsa, and started working on the third drink. Not glancing up from his food, his brows piqued with heavy lids.

“A difficult question. Perhaps a better reply would be another question: Who’re you writing this for?”

‘Choly set down his utensils and stared down his food.

“I’d say it was for me, but I feel like I need to put his ghost to rest. I’d say it was for him, but it’s also in hopes of jamming my brain because something more accurate could exist of him than anything I’ve written of him prior. And I’d... say it was for you, or any of my followers, but I... don’t even know if I can bring myself to post the results.” The dreg sneaked the Confec from his bag and set it beside his plate. “I... I gotta have another slice.”

That got Augen’s attention.

“Mmh. Mind sharing?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

‘Choly sliced through the partial ball a few times with his thumbs against the spine of the knife, and Augen reached over to help himself to one. Wincing at the bitterness, he chewed it up and washed it down with more liquor. 'Choly simply slouched back and let the stringent melt go for a few minutes, thinking it nearly paired with the citrus cubes.

“Cecil knows about us,” Augen began, eyes stitched shut, “but you never did tell Cecil about the Geek, did you? Have you ever wanted to?”

“I told him about Chalcedony. And he may not have said anything, but I know he knows about me an’ the Geek. Can’t not. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how open he is to it all. It’s like he believes leaving me untethered keeps me more faithful. He’s... not wrong, I guess.” ‘Choly looked up when he heard Augen stifle a choke, and suddenly he regretted sharing. His friend’s face was glistening, grey eyes wide. “Are you-- all right?”

“How’s everything tasting so far?” Bert interjected in passing, trying to hide concern when he he paused noticing Augen’s demeanor.

“Don't mind him." 'Choly quickly stashed the Confec back in his bag, unsure whether having it would cause them trouble. "I think something just went down the wrong way.”

The boy frowned at the Augen, who blanched and rubbed at his Adam’s apple a bit. On cue, Augen forced a cough.

“I... It's nothing."

Augen tapped a finger on his glass, not looking to Bert, and the waiter plucked up their empty glasses with a nod and excused himself, shaking his head in delirious incredulity at what had become of their once most troublesome patron.

“Seriously... Are you okay? You know you’re supposed to let that stuff melt slow.”

Rather than reply, the goth took one of ‘Choly’s wristbraced hands in both of his own, and guided it to hold his strained throat. He sustained breathless, tormented eye contact.

“It's wearing off faster than I was planning. Thought for sure I'd at least get to slagging finish eating. I'll... I'll take it.”

On to part 2 »»»

[balorclubbabe]

Right Here

Sami Zayn/OC (smut): You and Sami are best friends and get into an argument over him not liking the guy you’re seeing. But when you get dumped, he’s there to comfort you and later on, your true feelings for each other come out. (Slightly fluffy as well, because come on, Sami Zayn is sweet lil’ ball of sunshine.)

Tagging: the lovely @xfirespritex

I’m so excited to finally be posting this, I hope you guys like it!

Do you ever have one of those moments where you look back on your entire day and wonder, “How the fuck did I end up here?”

Because that’s what I was in the midst of doing; sitting on a cushioned bar stool, absentmindedly clicking the heel of my stiletto against the metal frame. All while I was sipping what was maybe my third or fourth alcoholic beverage of the evening.

Paired with the simple black cocktail dress with a cutout back that stopped just above the knees, I pretty much stuck out like a sore thumb. The bar around me wasn’t rundown or full of big scary leather clad bikers or anything like that, but amongst the other people in the room, I was the only one in such an outfit.

There was a guy with dark hair a couple of stools down who had been paying for my drinks ever since I made my way into the dive. Of course he wasn’t always sitting at the bar, he had started across the room and had been gradually moving in closer and closer with each drink, probably figuring that this was the easiest way into my panties. The fact that I had flashed him a cute smile when I walked in definitely helped me get more drinks than I probably should have had.

Considering the fact that the bar is a few blocks away from my apartment, I had been here before, just not in this kind of attire or alone at all for that matter. Usually I’d be here with my friends/co-workers to unwind, having a few drinks and plenty of laughs. A person that I always came here with no matter what was Sami Zayn, my roommate and best friend who I was currently avoiding, hence my presence here instead of our apartment.

We had gotten into a huge fight earlier and I definitely needed to be fairly drunk before I could even think about facing him. Hell, maybe if I had stayed out late enough he’d be asleep and I could slip back inside without him noticing.

Sami and I usually got along very well both as co-workers and roommates; he paid his half of the rent on time, always cleaned up after himself, didn’t snore, pretty much anything you could want when you live with someone. I used to have, well I guess currently have a huge crush on the redhead, but for the sake of not jeopardizing our friendship and working relationship, I kept it to myself. We had known each other for a few years now and were practically attached at the hip, making my feelings all the harder to suppress. Which is why normally any guy I dated would last no more than a few months at the most. Not gonna lie, some of them were tools, while some of them were actually genuinely sweet guys, but it all boiled down to the fact that none of them were Sami.

Normally I’d be against rooming with someone that you work with, but Sami and I were so close that I would never in a million years want to live with anyone else. Until about a month ago, right around the time when Greg came into the picture. I guess that’s when I noticed things were becoming…odd between Sami and I.

I was on my way out of the local coffee shop when I experienced my first encounter with Greg; he had bumped into me and, rather boldly may I add, asked for my number right off the bat. He was a banker or an accountant or something, always wearing nice suits and expensive-looking watches, and full of himself like you wouldn’t even believe someone could possibly be. We had been on a few dates and I tried to make it clear that I wasn’t looking for a one-night stand or a random hookup, which I guess is what he was after the whole time. That was probably the reason that things didn’t quite work out. Well, that and the sinking feeling I had that the “Jessica” who constantly texted him wasn’t actually his “cousin”.

Sami never liked Greg from the moment he met him. It was our second date when he came to pick me up that Sami was insistent on meeting him before we left, “I just want to make sure he’s not some kind of creep,” he had said in a half-teasing manner. I didn’t mind too much though, Sami was always pretty protective of me.

The exchange was fairly pleasant between the two, handshakes and all, but when I had gotten home, I was greeted with Sami who looked like he had previously been asleep on the couch, probably trying to wait up for me. “Hope you had fun.” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, getting up to go to his bedroom.

When I rambled on about how well the date had seemed to go and how sweet of a guy Greg had been he responded with a shrug, muttering, “He’s alright.” under his breath. After that every time Greg came around it was nothing but curt, passive aggressive comments from Sami, which was unlike him considering how personable and kind he was towards everyone he met.

Tonight had been the breaking point though, and I’m not really sure what caused it or why. I was getting ready, having just applied my lipstick in the bathroom mirror and triple checking that my hair fell around my shoulders in just the right way. I was meeting Greg at a fancy Italian restaurant and I wanted to look my best, which is why I opted to wear one of my favorite dresses.

Sami stood in the doorway, sighing heavily, almost as if he was hesitating on whether to speak or not. “He’s no good for you, you know. I don’t know what you could possibly see in a guy like that.”

I whipped around to face him, my eyes narrowed in his direction. Normally I wasn’t so quick to anger, but I was over him constantly harping on and on about this. “Can I ask what the hell your problem is with Greg? He’s a good guy and he’s been nothing but nice to you.”

Sami scoffed, arms crossed over his broad, bare chest. He was probably waiting to use the shower as I preened before the mirror. “The dude’s a total jerk! He’s completely full of himself!”

“You’re being ridiculous. Please tell me what he’s done that makes him such a jerk?” My hands were on my hips now, waiting for some kind of explanation or reasoning from him. He didn’t even know Greg and I understand looking out for me, but he was taking this way too far.

“Are you fucking blind!? Can’t you see what an asshole this guy is!?”

“The only one being an asshole right now is you, Sami! I don’t know why you’re acting like this!” I tried not to let him see that he had rattled me slightly. I could tell he was annoyed but I never expected him to raise his voice.

His jaw was clenched, his eyebrows knitted together in clear frustration. We had never yelled at each other like this. “Fine! When he dumps you, I hope you don’t plan on running and crying to me. You know, considering the fact that I’m such an asshole.”

“Oh believe me, I wouldn’t fucking dream of it!” Unable to stand to being around him another second, I stormed out of the apartment and slammed the door shut behind me for good measure.

After waiting around at the restaurant for nearly half an hour, I received a short text from Greg.

Hey babe, I’m really sorry but I don’t think this is working out. Things are just moving way too slow for me.

I didn’t even bother to demand a reason from him as I left the restaurant, trying not to glance at the sympathetic face of the waitress or the maître d as I did so. They must have had a hunch that I got stood up by my date. The thought of going home and facing Sami right now was too much for me; while I’m sure he meant well I couldn’t exactly take him adding insult to injury at the moment.

So that’s how I wound up here; overdressed and way too drunk for my own good.

The guy who had been buying my drinks (I think he said his name was Justin?) was now sitting right next to me, his hand reaching out to run along my arm. “One more, babe?”

Before I could answer, I heard someone saying my name from behind and I turned around to find Sami, a look of confusion on his face. He was dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, his red hair visible, having chosen to forgo his hat tonight. “What are you doing here?”

I lifted my glass of orange-yellow liquid (I’m pretty sure it was a Whiskey Sour this time around) and shrugged my shoulders. “Drinking.”

His eyes grew angry, but not towards me. They darted around the room, looking for Greg no doubt. “That piece of shit is letting you get wasted by yourself? Where the hell is he?” Sami demanded.

Rolling my eyes, I downed the rest of my beverage, eyes turning to the dark-haired stranger next to me. I batted my eyelashes at him, my fingers dancing along the back of his hand, as if to silently say, “One more?”.

“Justin” or whatever his name was smirked, his hand that was rubbing my arm traveling along my shoulders and down my back, fingers moving along my spine. “I’ll get you another babe, then we can get outta here. My place isn’t far.” Safe to say, I never had any intention of going home with the guy whatsoever, but I guess he and I were on different pages.

Sami spun around, eyes like daggers as he took a step towards us, “Don’t even think about it buddy. And if that hand moves another inch lower I’ll fucking rip it off.”

Justin immediately put his hands up in front of himself defensively and stood up, slowly backing away, disappearing into the crowd at the back of the bar. Clearly getting the shit kicked out of him over some girl wasn’t something he planned on happening during his night out.

“What are you even doing here Sami?” I let out a sigh, knowing I’d have to pay for any more drinks I’d be having.

Sami answered simply, “Needed a drink,” but was still clearly angry as his eyes danced over each of the patrons at the bar, just waiting until he spotted his target. “Stop changing the subject, where is he?”

“Well Sami, if you MUST know Greg isn’t here. He dumped me.” I leaned forward, hoping to catch the bartender’s attention.

His eyes shot back to me, the look on his face somewhat sympathetic. “Wait, he did what? Shit, I’m sorry.”

I let out a bitter laugh as Sami shook his head at the bartender, mouthing the word “No” to him. Guess my fun for the night was officially over. “No you’re not,” I huffed, adjusting on my stool so I was facing him. “You never liked him.”

Sami sighed, “Just because I didn’t like the guy doesn’t mean I’m happy that you’re upset,” and took my arm, tugging me off of the barstool, making sure I was steady in my heels before moving. “C’mon, we’re going home.”

I scoffed as he pulled me along with very little effort on his part considering I had the grace of a toddler trying to walk for the first time. “Why? So you get to have your great, big “I told you so” moment that you’ve been dying for? Because I don’t want to hear it.”

Sami raised an eyebrow at me as we walked to his car parked in front of the building. “No, because you’re drunk and I want to make sure you’re okay.” He ushered me into the passenger seat before moving to the driver’s side. ”This has nothing to do with that jerk.”

I stayed quiet as we drove, only breaking the silence to mumble under my breath, “He is kind of a jerk, isn’t he?”

Sami glanced at me from the corner of his eye, chuckling. “Yeah. Yeah he is,” and put the vehicle in park once we pulled up to our building. “Lets get you inside, ok?”

I nodded as Sami helped me up the single flight of stairs and through the front door, where I soon collapsed onto the living room couch, kicking my heels off.

Sami sat down, gently rubbing my back as I felt my bottom lip begin to tremble, a small fit of sobs escaping from my lips. I felt stupid, humiliated, and about a dozen other words that refused to come to mind.

“Oh sweetheart, come here.” He pulled me close so that my face was buried into his chest, no doubt smearing some make-up off onto his shirt. I felt him lean his chin in my hair, planting a kiss on top of my head. “Shhh I’m right here. It’ll be all right. He didn’t deserve you. Hell, he’s lucky I don’t track him down and beat the shit out of him for doing this to you,”

After a few minutes of silence, he nudged me gently. “Go get out of that dress and get comfortable, ok? We’re gonna watch a movie or something. You’re not allowed to be sad anymore tonight.”

Reluctantly moving out of his warm embrace, I stood up and dragged myself down the hall and into my bedroom. Glancing at the mirror on my wall, I saw just how much of a mess I really was. I wiped the specks of black make-up that had converged underneath my eyes, and used a tissue to wipe off the rest of my already faded lipstick. I slid my dress off and threw it in the corner, opting to change into a pair of shorts and one of Sami’s old t-shirts that he let me keep since he had accidentally shrunk it in the wash.

As I was sliding his shirt over my head, the door opened. “Hey I-“

Sami froze, the shirt half over my head, meaning he caught a peek of my bra. (Which was nothing all that special mind you, just a plain old red bra). “S-shit sorry. I uh, was wondering if you were hungry. I was just about to heat up some leftovers and I thought you might want some.”

Normally I’d have turned scarlet by now, but I just shook my head, pulling the shirt on the rest of the way. I don’t know if it was because I was exhausted, drunk, or both. Or maybe because I really didn’t mind too much. “I don’t have much of an appetite right now, Sami. Maybe later. Thanks though.”

Relieved that him walking in on me hadn’t upset me, he nodded and plopped down on the couch with the plate of the leftover Pad Thai he had heated up for himself. “I know it’s not Italian but hey, it’s still pretty good,” he grinned, offering me a forkful, which I politely declined.

It probably wasn’t my brightest idea to have drank all of the alcohol I did without much food in my stomach, but I didn’t want to eat right now at the risk of getting sick for the rest of the evening.

I situated myself next to him on the couch, curling up so that my knees were to my chest, blinking a few times and hoping it would steady my still slightly wobbly vision.

Sami flipped to the hockey game that was already halfway over before turning to me. “So do you feel like telling me what happened?”

I sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, knowing he’d want to talk more about it sooner or later. “I waited at the restaurant for about half an hour and he never showed up. Then he texted me and said that things were moving “too slow”. Aka me not sleeping with him after 4 or 5 dates, I guess. Plus I’m pretty sure he may have been talking to another girl. Or maybe girls, as in plural.”

“What a dick,” Sami managed through a mouthful of noodles. “S’like I said before, a guy like that doesn’t deserve someone as great as you. You’re better off without him.”

I sighed, “I guess you’re right. I just thought…maybe I had found a good guy. Maybe not the right guy but...ugh I don’t know.” I was a liar. Despite not knowing what an asshole Greg was initially, I knew for sure he wasn’t Mr. Right. Maybe I had just said that to remind myself that Sami was the one I wanted.

Sami stopped chewing for a second, his eyes moving from his plate to me. “You’ll find someone, I just know it. Someone who can appreciate how amazing you are.”

My eyes and head hurt, the tears and alcohol exhausting me thoroughly, something which Sami must have taken notice of. “Wanna sleep it off a little? I’ll make you something to eat if you get hungry later.”

I nodded, leaning my head on his shoulder, ready to fall asleep right then and there.

He chuckled, setting his plate on the coffee table. “At least let me help you into bed so you’re comfortable. I’ll even give you a piggy back ride there.” He sang, a grin on his face as he squatted down in front of me.

Sluggishly, I wrapped my arms around his neck from behind, my legs locking loosely around his torso. The smell of his cologne hit me as I inhaled, burying my face into his shoulder as he carried me to my bedroom, lowering me onto the bed. “And there we go. Yell for me if you need something ok?”

Before he could walk away, I grabbed his arm. I wasn’t sure what I was thinking, normally not being anywhere near this bold. “Sami? Could you stay with me? Please?”

Sami cleared his throat, “I uh…don’t know if I should.” He gently placed his own hand over mine, which was still tightly gripping him.

“I just…I don’t want to be alone right now. Please Sami? I…I really need you.” I felt a lump in my throat as I spoke. I wasn’t sure exactly why I was getting choked up, but the idea of me being alone right now was too much.

Sami’s face softened as he climbed into bed with me, laying on his back and allowing me to lean my head on his chest. “Of course. I’m right here, it’s all gonna be alright.” His hand rubbed my lower back in small circles, as he would softly mutter comforting words every so often.

We had fallen asleep on the couch together before after watching a movie or after a long car ride together, usually my head leaning against his shoulder, but never had we gotten so closely intimate before. I don’t think he’d ever done so much as sat on my bed while waiting for me to throw my jacket on or search for my shoes before going out. And although the feeling was foreign, having his arm tightly wrapped around me surprisingly didn’t make me feel nervous.

I felt him shift underneath my touch as my fingers danced up his chest, stroking his bearded cheek. I don’t know what it was about his presence right now, but the fact that he was actually in my bed next to me just felt so right. “Hey Sami?”

He glanced down at me, lips brushing my fingertips as they accidentally grazed against his mouth. “Hm?”

I scooted up slightly so that our faces were level with each other, opening my mouth so I could tell him what I wanted to do, or even ask him if he’s even ok with it, but all I could do was lean forward and press my lips against his.

I felt him jolt, “Woah, hey um…you probably shouldn’t do that,” he pulled back slightly, his arms still around me so he could only go so far back into the plush pillows. “Not that I didn’t like it, but just uh, you’re really drunk and I don’t want you to…ya know, do something you’re gonna regret.”

I wasn’t sure why I did it or what I had exactly been expecting to happen, but I guess it hadn’t upset me as much as it normally would have. “Sorry. You’re right,” As I closed my eyes, I let out a yawn, fiddling with the soft cotton material of his t-shirt. “I wish I had someone like you to love me, Sami.”

I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head, mumbling my name, “If it means anything, I do love you,” he paused, exhaling, “Just get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll be right here when you wake up,”

I guess what was supposed to be a nap turned into something dangerously close to a coma as I awoke the next morning with a nasty headache and a parched throat. From the corner of my eye, though drawn, I could tell it was light outside of the blinds. I sat up, immediately groaning and sinking back into my comforter when a sharp pain shot through my temple from the abrupt movement.

“Bad hangover, huh?” a familiar voice reached my ears.

I jolted, the movement causing my head to throb again, as I turned to see Sami lying beside me, still in his clothes from the night before.

He chuckled, “Woah, take it easy, it’s just me.” He sat up, cracking his back as he did so. He probably didn’t wake up very long before I did.

“Sorry. Not used to waking up with someone next to me,” I rubbed my hands over my face, grumbling aloud, “What time is it?”

He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Almost 7. You pretty much slept through the night. Feeling hungry?”

I shook my head, slowly sitting up, pushing the blankets off of my legs. “Not really, no. I could definitely go for some coffee though. I feel like shit.”

Sami nodded, “Yeah coffee sounds great right now,” and stood up, heading out of the room. “I’ll go make us some.”

I dragged myself out of bed and made my way to the kitchen, snatching a bottle of water from the fridge and downing half of it to sooth my dry throat.

He shot me a smile before switching on the coffee maker. I swear Sami was a godsend in moments like this when I was without a doubt at my absolute shittiest. Even something as simple as making coffee, which I could easily do myself, I was grateful for.

I licked my dry lips as my eyes met his dark chocolate ones, “Sami I’m really sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have gotten upset with you or called you an asshole. You were right about…everything with Greg. I really must have been blind or something not to see that.”

Sami ran a hand over his beard, sighing loudly. “I didn’t want to be right. It was just a feeling I got. Don’t beat yourself up over it, that’s the kind of person you are; you just see the best in people even if they don’t deserve it,” He wrung his hands together. “Like me, for instance. Just because I felt a certain way about the guy didn’t give me the right to act like such a dick. Especially not to you.”

“You were only trying to look out for me Sami and I should have realized that,” I thanked him once he handed me the ceramic mug filled almost to the brim with the piping hot beverage. “I mean, you’re one of the sweetest people I know. You’re always so kind, even to strangers. It should’ve been a red flag in itself when I saw how you felt about him.”

Sami puffed his chest out, “Hey I’m not always so sweet and adorable! I took care of that guy at the bar last night, didn’t I?”

I laughed, squeezing his flexed bicep, “Ah yes of course how could I forget? My knight in shining armor, coming to my rescue and threatening strangers.”

Sami playfully swatted my handed away, “Oh sure you tease now but you were the one who-” he cut himself off, his mouth immediately shutting.

I raised an eyebrow, “What? Oh god, I didn’t do anything stupid while I was drunk, did I?” I let out a groan, holding my head in my hands. I truly didn’t remember everything that happened after Sami swooped in at the bar and helped get me back home. Bits and pieces here and there, but nothing solid was registering in my mind.

“It really wasn’t even that bad.” Sami encouraged, almost pleading for me to drop it. “Really, I didn’t even remember it until now.”

I frowned. “Sami come on, that’s not fair. We tell each other everything.”

Sami let out a breath, “Well right before you fell asleep, you uh...kissed me. I was nervous when you woke up that you’d think something else happened, honestly. Ya know, with me next to you is all.” He was clearly embarrassed.

I mean I was too, but I tried not to let it show too much. “Oh. I mean…that’s not so terrible. Was that all?”

He seemed to hesitate a little bit, and then shook his head. “Yeah, that’s all. Nothing else whatsoever,”

I gave him a look. I felt like he was hiding something, but I figured I’d get it out of him at a later time if he was, “At least I didn’t puke in the bushes outside the bar like someone at Finn’s birthday last year,” I was desperate to change the subject at this point, and I could tell he was too.

Sami gasped, “Hey! I was peer pressured into taking those last few shots and you know it!”

I laughed, “I had to practically drag you into the car too. Guess that makes us even now, huh? I saved you from busting your ass in the parking lot and you saved me from some creep last night.”

Sami ruffled my hair, “In fairness, you can normally handle yourself.”

Rolling my eyes, I took another sip of coffee and smoothed my hair back down with my free hand. “Knock it off, my bedhead is already bad enough,”

Sami looked like he was about to speak again, but instead he finished his coffee and placed his mug in the sink. “I’m uh, gonna go shower and stuff,” leaving me alone with my hangover.

I took my time in finishing my own coffee, allowing myself to finally wake up a little more before swallowing a few aspirin, something I wish I were smart or sober enough to do last night before passing out.

As I sat at the kitchen table, idly glancing through social media on my phone, my mind just wouldn’t stop itself from conjuring up the image of Sami in the shower. I was no stranger to what he looked like without a shirt, both from work and the fact that we were roommates, and hell I had even caught him in his underwear a few times. I absentmindedly chewed my bottom lip, a small part of me mentally scolding myself for the dirty thoughts. I sure as hell shouldn’t be picturing my best friend in the shower, wet and naked. And I especially shouldn’t be wondering what would happen if I had joined him, you know, just to help him wash up. And I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about my hands wandering down his chest, lower and lower until they-

The sound of soft footsteps echoed against the tile and I found myself snapping out of my daydream as Sami entered the kitchen again. And fuck, all he was wearing were those gray sweatpants, the ones that I could clearly see the outline of his lower half through. I immediately got up to wash my mug, mainly so my eyes wouldn’t wander any lower than they should.

Sami came up next to me, leaning against the counter as I rinsed the two mugs and the bowl from his leftovers last night. “It was my turn to wash the dishes, you know.” From the corner of my eye I can see small water droplets scattered along his chest, dripping down towards his stomach, disappearing beneath the gray waistband.

“I owe you for taking care of me last night,” I joked. “I don’t mind, really. You can get them next time.”

Sami was silent for a few seconds, then spoke, “Hey so, you don’t have any more dates coming up anytime soon, do you?”

I shook my head ‘no’, “Not anytime soon or at all. I think I’m going to take a break from dating for a while. Why, you wanna do something tonight?” I was secretly hoping he didn’t have anything planned that involved getting dressed or leaving the house at all for that matter. I was perfectly content with vegging out on the couch and ordering pizza with Sami tonight.

He shifted almost nervously, “No, well, I mean yeah, I just...don’t really know how to say this,” his eyes seemed to take interest in the tiled floor as he refused to meet my gaze.

“Sami is everything ok?” I rubbed his arm comfortingly, turning towards him. Was he still upset with me about our fight yesterday? Maybe this had something to do with whatever he was keeping from me. Or maybe me drunkenly kissing him has now created a permanent tension between the two of us and now our friendship will never be the same.

“No it’s just, I-I don’t want to see you going on dates with guys like that anymore,” before I could ask what he meant he spoke again, “because I want it to be me, ok? I wanna be the guy you go on dates with. Who takes you out to nice places and gets to show you off to everyone and spend all the time in the world with you,” he took a deep breath, “I’m just trying to say that I really care about you and that I’ve seen you as more than my roommate or friend for awhile now. Like, a long while.”

My heart felt like it was caught in my throat after hearing Sami’s confession. Suddenly his behavior for the past month involving Greg began to make sense. Between working and living with him for so long, I knew how Sami was around people he wasn’t fond of. He’d be as polite as he’d have to be and leave it at that; at the very most making some comment to me about them when they left. I should’ve known it was more than just Greg turning out to be a douche that caused Sami to act so rudely.

I was abruptly pulled out of my thoughts when he cleared his throat, “This might sound really stupid but, would it…be alright if I kissed you? Like a real kiss? You can say no, I don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated to or anything I just-“ His chocolate orbs met mine, and I don’t think I had ever seen him quite this nervous.

“Sami,” I cut his ramblings off before he could say another word, “I would love it if you kissed me. If that wasn’t already apparent from last night,” I giggled, trying to fight the blush that was creeping up on my own cheeks.

Gently, Sami took my face between his hands and pulled me closer, pressing his lips to mine. And I don’t think it’s much of an exaggeration to say that I swore I saw fireworks behind my eyes when I closed them. It was that weird, cliché moment where kissing him felt so right that everything seemed to fall into place.

I wasn’t sure why it took me so long to realize that maybe he held the same feelings for me as I did for him. He was right here the whole time and I was just brushing off everything he did as him being my best friend and nothing more than what I saw him as. It was a little silly, I thought, that two decently intelligent adults who also happened to be inseparable friends and roommates weren’t able to figure out that they both felt the same way about each other.

He pulled back ever so slightly, “God I should’ve done that so much sooner,” his eyes found mine, radiating warmth.

I couldn’t help but ask, “Why didn’t you? Not that I’m complaining or anything,”

“I don’t know,” he sighed heavily, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds before reopening them, “A bunch of shitty excuses; the main one being I was fucking terrified. I didn’t want to screw things up and lose you. Lose what we have. You’re my best friend and I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t in my life.”

I grinned up at him, “Well I’m not going anywhere,” I ran my fingers over his hand that was still planted on my cheek, “Especially not now. Looks like you’re stuck with me, Sami.”.

After that morning, Sami and I seemed to be behaving more and more like a couple as the days went on. Sure we hadn’t exactly put a label on it or told any of our friends/co-workers yet, but everyone at work knew we were roommates and good friends so as far as they were concerned we were keeping things professional, being that we were spending pretty much the same amount of time with each other.

To be honest, I think we were both surprised by how strangely…normal everything stayed between us. We still cooked, ran errands and did chores together as usual. The only difference were small things like me planting a kiss on his cheek to thank him for taking out the trash or him wrapping his arms around my waist while I made breakfast for the both of us.

The one thing we couldn’t quite figure out though, was a permanent sleeping situation. We had pretty much been alternating whose bed we’d end up sleeping in, the decision only really being based on whose bed sheets needed washing. Plus both of our beds were comfortably queen-sized.

“We should get a bigger place soon,” Sami turned his head to look at me. “What do you think?” We were lying together in his bed, my head against his chest as he browsed a house-hunting app on his phone. “Ooh we should get a puppy too, I mean, if you want.” I could tell by the tone of his voice that he very much was hoping that I also wanted a puppy.

Most girls would be over the moon if their boyfriend brought up the idea of getting a place together but Sami and I already living together dulled that spark just a little. Still, it made me happy to think that he’d maybe want a house together. Even though he wasn’t technically my “boyfriend” yet.

“I think that’s a good idea. Especially the puppy,” I planted a kiss on his lips, his beard tickling me as I did so. “We should look next week on our day off,” I lightly moved his arm from around me and stood up. “Be right back. Gotta brush my teeth,”

I exited the room and made my way to the bathroom down the hall, locking the door behind me. I ducked down to open the cabinet underneath the sink and pulled out the paper shopping bag I had hidden there earlier. It had been almost a month since Sami and I became an item and we still hadn’t had sex yet. I think we were both under the impression that the other one didn’t want to rush things too much, but I finally decided to take the leap of faith to try and initiate things.

Trying not to let the paper crinkling make too much noise, I slid out of my clothes and pulled on the lace black bra and panty set I had purchased earlier that day at the mall. I admired myself in the mirror for a few seconds, loving how the bra squeezed my breasts together for just the right amount of cleavage. I made one last attempt to doll myself up by running my hands through my hair and fluffing it slightly to give it a “messy but still sexy” look.

Taking a deep breath, I exited the bathroom and walked back to Sami’s room, only to see him still scrolling through his phone. “Hey so there’s a place not far from here that I think we should-“ he stopped in his tracks when his eyes moved to my barely clothed form. “Woah,”

I felt the blush stain my cheeks as I felt his hungry gaze wander over me, chewing on my bottom lip.

Sami was sitting up now, crooking his finger at me in a “come hither” motion, his eyes never leaving me.

Slowly, deliberately, I walked over to where he sat, only to let out a squeak of surprise when Sami yanked me onto his lap. “Look at you, baby. So fucking beautiful,”

His fingers traced small circles on the exposed skin above my panty line, his thumb dipping below the elastic slightly. My excitement got the better of me and I thought they’d venture a little lower, but to my disappointment, they didn’t. Our lips met in a passionate kiss, my fingers tangling into his red locks, deepening the embrace. I felt him chuckle against my mouth as my fingers moved out of his hair and twisted in the fabric of his plain black t-shirt, tugging it upwards. “Oh? You want it off?” he teased.

I nodded eagerly as he helped me tear the garment over his head, tossing it off to the side and revealing to me his well-toned chest and sparse little areas of hair. “What else do you want me to take off baby? Tell me.”

My fingers trailed down to the waistband of his sweats, gripping the elastic and playfully snapping it against his skin. “These too. Please?”

Sami pretended to think it over, humming quietly before he began to slide them off his legs. “I think that’s fair,”

I reached down between us, gently stroking his cock through his boxer briefs, causing him to let out a soft grunt. “Mmm baby,” His eyes fluttered closed as my hand worked him softly, squeezing the shaft with the right amount of pressure. Being that I was on his lap, I began moving my hips slightly against the lower half of his member while my hand worked around the head, causing Sami to shudder in surprise. “Shit sweetheart, you’re fucking good at that,”

I leaned forward, pulling him into another brief kiss, “Sami, I want you. So, so badly.”

He hummed in approval, dragging his lips across my collarbone, leaving tiny kisses across my skin, periodically pausing in between whenever he found a spot that seemed to drive me crazy. He began sucking on said spot, loving the reaction he was getting from me. I was fairly certain a hickey would form, but I couldn’t find myself particularly caring. “Want you too. I swear I’m the luckiest guy in the world right now,” he murmured, leaving a trail of kisses down my neck, until his mouth came to the center of my cleavage. “You’re so perfect baby,” I felt his warm hands reach behind me and unclip my bra, sliding the straps off my shoulders one at a time.

I ground against him slowly, feeling him harden against me as I did so. The aching between my legs only continued to grow as Sami gently cupped my breasts, dipping his head lower so that he could take a nipple in his mouth. So badly did I want him to get on with it and fuck me, but his motions were all unhurried, as if he were appreciating and memorizing every last inch of skin his fingers and mouth came across.

I felt his right hand drag down my side, finally providing me with a little bit of relief as his fingers slid past the fabric of my panties, coming into contact with my wetness. “Honey you’re so wet for me,” he mumbled, having switched to my other breast, teeth grazing slightly over the nipple. “Mmm I can’t wait to feel you,”

My eyes squeezed shut as two of his fingers easily slid inside of my entrance, causing me to arch against him. He had barely begun to touch me and I was already quickly becoming a writhing mess in his lap. “S-sami…” His response was to curl his fingers inside of me again and again, and my nails were digging into his shoulders, no doubt leaving marks.

His desire-filled eyes met mine, a smile across his lips. “Just like that? Do you want me to keep going? Or should I use something besides my fingers? Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you baby. Whatever you want. You just gotta tell me,”

My mind felt like it was going about a mile and minute and I could barely focus on the words he was saying to me, my entire body feeling as if it were buzzing. “I-I just need you, Sami I need you so fucking bad p-please…” I managed to choke out my answer.

That was apparently good enough for him because suddenly I was off his lap and lying splayed out on the bed with Sami hovering over me. His fingers hooked into the sides of my panties and tugged them the rest of the way down my legs, tossing them to the side of the bed. “This what you wanted baby? You want me to taste this sweet little pussy?”

Before I could hurriedly nod, his tongue slid through my folds once, twice, three times before focusing solely on my clit, making tight circles as his fingers gripped my thighs. “Oh god, don’t stop please!” My toes curled as his tongue lavished the sensitive bundle of nerves, causing my back to arch off the mattress.

It only took him a few more strokes with his tongue before I was bucking against his face, crying out his name as I reached my climax. Between the arousal that had already previously built up and his fingers and tongue simultaneously working on me, I wasn’t all that surprised that it took me such a short amount of time to cum.

I almost thought he wasn’t going to stop, but sure enough he rose back up to me, sloppily kissing me again, his tongue dancing with mine, and his beard slightly sticky. His cock was rock hard against my stomach and I pushed forward, making him sit up for me so I could assist him in the removal of his last piece of clothing.

I felt my face flush as I pulled his boxer briefs down, allowing his hardened cock to spring out. And it was safe to say, all of my fantasies and daydreaming did not do it any justice whatsoever.

I leaned down after giving it a few strokes and took as much of him as I could into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head. Sami’s hand gently found it’s way into my hair, tugging softly and groaning in delight as I removed him from my mouth and gave him one long lick on the underside of his shaft.

Before I could taste his cock again, Sami hurriedly pulled me upwards and pressed me back down onto the mattress, descending over me shortly after. “Baby, baby I need you now. I can’t wait anymore,”

I definitely wasn’t complaining, although I was a little disappointed that I didn’t get a chance to taste him more. It was short-lived however, when I felt his hardened member pressing against my thigh.

Sami licked his lips before gripping his shaft and guiding it to my dripping wet entrance. “Are you ready for me sweetheart?”

Pretty much the second I nodded he surged forward inside of me, causing me to let out a whine of surprise at the very sudden motion. He gave me a few moments to adjust before pressing forward, causing me to let out a gasp of pleasure when he finally bottomed out inside of me, filling me completely. “Oh fuck Sami,”

“How’s that feel baby? Is that good?” I could tell that Sami’s main focus was immediately how he was making me feel versus his own pleasure. However, I could definitely tell by the look on his face that he was enjoying himself as well.

I responded by arching against him, his hips grinding into mine at a slow, monotonous pace initially. I wasn’t sure if he was intentionally trying to be gentle on me, or if he was just teasing me by going so slow, but regardless I wanted him to speed up.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, forcing him deeper inside of me as I did so, causing him to groan. “Yeah? Is that what my girl wants? You want it like that?” he punctuated the last word with one particularly hard thrust that hit me at a completely new angle. Chuckling, Sami noted the way my body responded and thrust that one particular spot again and again, moving in and out, not taking his eyes off me for even a second.

“You feel so good baby, holy shit. So fucking good, squeezing my cock like that,” Never in a million years would I ever think that Sami would be such a huge fan of dirty talk. Not that I wasn’t enjoying it, because holy shit, hearing him say these things was definitely adding to the experience. He was pounding into me at the perfect pace, hard and fast, yet still making sure that every single one of his thrusts were angled so that his cock brushed my G-spot over and over again. My eyes could’ve rolled to the back of my head with one particular thrust that caught me off guard, drawing a loud cry of pleasure from my throat. “Oh fuck! Sami please right there, that feels so good!”

He continued to hit that one spot with slow, deliberate strokes, his mouth hanging open slightly. With a groan, he lowered himself so that our foreheads pressed together, “Fuck sweetheart I love you, god I fucking love you so much,” his pace faltered slightly as he realized what he said. Safe to say by the brief look of what I can only describe as panic crossing his face that he hadn’t planned on saying that out loud.

I brought my hands from around his neck and gently held his face between my hands, my thumbs idly stroking his cheeks, “Sami. I love you too.” Besides not wanting him to stop, hearing him verbally say those words, much like our first real kiss, just felt so right that I didn’t think to question saying it back it at all.

The smile that spread across his face was like none I had seen before. Not the bright, million-watt smile that he usually had; this was a look of genuine content that I don’t think I had ever seen in Sami.

He kissed me again, this time slowly and softly, whispering my name against my lips, “I’m not gonna last much longer, sweetheart.”

I rolled my hips upward to meet each of his thrusts, noting the shudder it elicited from him. A lot of people throw the phrase, “I’m going to fuck you into the mattress” around during sex, but it literally felt like that’s what Sami was trying to do to me. Not that I was complaining of course. It was like he was pouring every ounce of strength he had into the fluid motions of his hips meeting mine.

I bit my bottom lip so hard that I swore I could’ve drawn blood as my second orgasm began rolling through my body, “ Oh god Sa-!,” I barely got out the last syllable of his name and I cried out loudly, tightening around him and he pounded into me over and over again.

Sami buried his face in my neck, loudly moaning as his own orgasm overtook him, “Ugh fuck sweetheart here it comes, here it fucking comes,” growling out one last “fuck” before collapsing on top of me.

Sami rolled off of me after a few seconds as not to crush me, exhaling loudly, and saying once again, “Woah.”

I laughed, “That’s a word for it.” I leaned over and pressed a kiss against his lips.

Sami wasted no time pulling me to his chest, and it wasn’t too surprising since he loved cuddling in general, even after sex. “Hey so…I actually have something to tell you. About that night you got drunk,”

“I know,” I turned over so I was face to face with him, still leaning on his chest. “You’re terrible at keeping secrets, you know. Like, really terrible.”

Sami chewed on his bottom lip, “Yeah so uh you didn’t just kiss me when you were drunk. You said you wish you had someone like me to love you and, I guess you don’t remember but I told you I loved you. And well since I know that the feeling’s mutual I guess I finally felt comfortable enough to tell you,”

I took in his words, thinking over what he said. If he had told me that day I probably would have been more embarrassed with my drunken antics, but now?

He frowned, a worried look crossing his features, “You’re not mad at me are you?”

“No! God no, of course not Sami.” He continued to watch me, knowing I had more to say, ”I mean…it’s the truth. I-hell not just me, any girl would be lucky to have someone like you. I took a peek up at him, trying to fight the blush that was once again staining my cheeks. “You’re one of the most amazing people I know, Sami.”

Sami grinned, kissing the top of my head, “Well I’m right here, aren’t I? And I’m yours already. I mean, well if you want me to be. Like, officially I mean.”

“If I didn’t make it clear that I want to be with you already then I’m doing something wrong here,” I rolled my eyes playfully, planting a kiss on his lips.

I settled myself back into his arms, completely and utterly spent. Just as I felt the welcome signs of sleep starting to overcome me, Sami’s hand shook my shoulder, causing me to grumble. “Wait baby, you can’t go to sleep yet! We still have to decide what kind of puppy to get!”

[sunshinemiranda]

Domestic Bliss - Okieriete Onaodowan x Reader

Summary: Based on this post. Small vignettes of feelings of happiness wrapped in domesticity in the home of two people who love each other very much. 

Words: 2,189

Warnings: A couple swear words. 

A/N: I’ve finally accomplished every day of the Write-A-Thon! (No one mention how long it took, I hate myself too) I’m really excited for this because Day 7: #WriteForOak2k17 was my doing and there is always room to appreciate my sunshine boy. By the way, there are a couple songs mentioned in this one. I’ll link them in the text. Enjoy!

“I think I’m sort of drunk.”

“You’re not drunk, Oak.”

“No, really. I think I am.”

“Prove it.”

“I actually like this shitty music.”

“Okay, yeah, you’re drunk.” You grinned, stumbling towards him a bottle of wine still grasped in your fist. “You know this is ‘Sugar, Sugar’ by The Archies, right? This is from, like, the 70’s.”

“I know,” he cringed, reaching out to curl a casual hand around your waist. A slow smile faded into place on his mouth and he started to waltz you around, slipping the bottle from your hand to take a swig from it. “Also, it’s 1 in the afternoon. I’m drunk, listening to crappy music, at 1 in the afternoon.”

“Don’t forget to add that you’re with me,” you giggled, stealing the bottle back to drink from it, nose crinkling. “This is shit wine.”

“I know.” He smiled, taking the bottle again to set it down on the coffee table. He bowed before you, pulling you against his body as the song switched to a waltz. ‘We Belong Together’. Ritchie Valens.

“Now this is a cheesy song.” You murmured, swaying with him, a grin making a home on your lips.

“I love it. Unashamedly. I love you.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You’re mine, and we belong together. Yes, we belong together, for eternity.

Maybe Ritchie Valens was right. Maybe that happened to people, who were puzzle pieces that had jagged edges to fit someone else’s. Maybe you were meant to be there, tipsy as hell on a Sunday afternoon, mouth pressed against the love of your life’s. If that was fate, then god damn, you would welcome it with wide arms.

The kiss was messy, filled with giggling and stumbling. Mouth still pressed haphazardly against yours, Oak stumbled back onto the couch, taking you with him as you collapsed into a pile of kisses that tasted like wine, soft hair tickling the senses and the scent that couldn’t be described as anything other than home. It was a kind of domesticity that put your heart at rest, made the blood run warm in your veins, electrified with a feeling of helpless love that you weren’t afraid of.

“I am not afraid of loving you, Oak.” You murmured, pressing a kiss to his nose.

“Stay with me.” He replied, whispering.

“Always.”

He kissed you again, and again, so many times that it painted your entire life a rosy colour that realists frown upon so angrily. Two romantics, a bottle of wine, and Ritchie Valens were a very good combination. You could attest to that.

“We should probably sleep.”

“Yeah, we should probably sleep.”

Neither one of you moved. Curled together, a complete mess of limbs and pieces of popcorn that had found a new home in the crevices of your couch, Oak had his legs intertwined with yours and was tracing swirls against your shin, eyes closed as he leaned back. It was 3 am, but tiredness and a craving to just sit and enjoy the feeling of being in the presence of someone who loved you unconditionally after a long day of wrestling with an unforgivable world. Right here, on this couch, in this moment, nothing else mattered.

“Oh my God, The Price is Right is on. Why are we watching this again?” He chuckled.

“Because I’m too lazy to move to our own bed, and I really like being here. With you.”

“Sap.”

“You know it.”

He lovingly pinched at your toe, and you pulled your limb away from him with a pout, turning away.

“That it, Mr. Onaodowan. No more kisses for you.”

“Mr. Onaodowan?” He mimicked, sitting up so he could scoot closer to you. You refused to look at him, staring adamantly at the wall. “What is this, Fifty Shades of Grey?”

“Oh, you wish.” You huffed, looking down and picking at your nails to fake disinterest.

He reached over, tugging you lazily into his lap, which didn’t take much, to be honest. Nuzzling into the crook of where your neck met your shoulder, he pressed an absent kiss to your jaw and mumbled tiredly against your skin as he spoke.

“You can’t be mad at me. It’s impossible.”

“It totally is possible. Don’t you see what I’m doing here?” You huffed, crossing your arms and ignoring the pleasant tickle of his hair near your ear.

“I love you,” he murmurs, leaving kisses all along your neck and down to your shoulder. “That’s all I’m going to say.”

The room settles with silence and you breath out, then surrender with a roll of your eyes, turning around in his lap to face him. Leaning forward, you press a kiss to his forehead with a small smile.

“Let’s go to bed.” You mumbled.

With a grin, he scooped his arms underneath you and stood in one smooth motion, stepping down the hallway to the bedroom with socked feet. Crappy television at 3 am became a tradition.

“Where’s my toothbrush?”

“You’re holding it, Oak.”

“Oh.”

Tuesday mornings were a mess. That wasn’t to say the other days of the week were un-stressful and beautifully organized, of course not. It’s just that Tuesday's seemed to be the days that everything was trying its best to work against you.

“Do you want coffee?”

“Am I going to have time to drink it?”

“Baby, you ask this every morning. I’ll put it in a travel mug like always.”

“I love you.” He mumbled, pressing a hurried kiss to your forehead before hurrying away, likely to finish getting dressed (he had been rushing around in pyjama top and an unbuttoned shirt for the past twenty minutes).

You were just as busy. With your purse dangling from your shoulder, and you having to push it back up there every few seconds, you had two coffees in one hand, your phone shoved haphazardly in your back pocket and your keys dangling from your only free hand.

“Shit,” you mumbled, setting down his coffee as carefully as possible while trying not to spill yours. “Oak, do you know where my wallet is?”

“Uh, no, maybe it’s in the bedroom?”

Cursing to yourself, you grabbed your shoes and half hopped, half ran toward the shared bedroom in the apartment, trying to simultaneously pull shoes on and make your way there. He pushed out of the bathroom at the same time you passed and accidentally bumped into you, the two of you both muttering a quick apology as he followed you into the bedroom. The sheets were thrown up, every drawer opened, until finally, finally, something worked out.

“Found it!” He called triumphantly, tossing your wallet across the room to you before you caught it and shoved it into your purse.

“Thank you, I love you, I’ll be home at 5, promise.” You rushed out, leaning forward to quickly press a kiss to his cheek, and giving the hem of his shirt a quick tug to straighten it out.

“Take it easy!” He called after you, pulling his own shoes on. With a glance at the clock, he cringed, inwardly wondering if it was possible to just cut anyway, since he was already late.

You sent him a quick grin over your shoulder, almost running into the door in doing so, but in a moment, you had hurried out to the car. Tuesday mornings were a mess, but they were so undeniably human that you spent half the time worrying and the other half, kind of enjoying it.

“Does my face always look like that?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Hey!” He whined, elbowing you as you shot him a grin. “You’re not supposed to agree.”

You laughed, flicking to the next picture on your phone. It wasn’t clear how it had happened, but you had ended up curled up with him on the balcony loveseat, sorting through old pictures of you two on your phone and zooming in on the worst faces. It was the perfect way to spend an afternoon.

“Baby, you know I love your face, and all the little things it does.” You reached out and pinched one of his cheeks gently as he rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah?” He snatched the phone from you, double tapping on a group photo you had been unlucky enough to be pulled into. “And what about your face in this one?”

Huffing, you snatched your cell back, sticking your tongue out. “I’m fine with my face the way it is.”

“Good,” he murmured, a slow smile turning the corners of his mouth up. “Me too.”

Blushing, you smiled back at him and turned back to the picture album. You swept past a couple more, then found one of the two of you sticking your faces through the cardboard cutouts at fairs. This one had two anthropomorphic dogs painted there. It seemed one of them was supposed to be Goofy, but it definitely wasn’t clear. A pause caught in your throat before the both of you burst out into laughter.

“Wow, (Y/N), I had no idea you were a furry.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not in this photo too, Goofy.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent flicking through picture after picture, collapsing into piles of boneless laughter, and being filled with that warm feeling you get after finding an old photo of something you never want to forget.

“Get out of the way.”

“You get out of the way.”

“I was in here first!” Oak grumbled, but there was a grin sneaking its way onto his lips. You were already giggling.

“Unimportant. Isn’t it a stereotype that the girl takes hours to get ready? Therefore, I get more time in the bathroom.”

“I’m a progressive man, (Y/N), I don’t believe in stuff like that.” He stated matter-of-factly, smile still in place as he reached for a comb.

Standing hip to hip, facing the mirror, the bathroom seemed small but ultimately cozy. After being invited out to a friend’s birthday dinner, the two of you had ended up having to share the space. There is an idea perpetuated about couples who find themselves in uncomfortable situations when they move in with each other. There is always a compromise that needs to made, and some couples find that to be a struggle. With Oak, there wasn’t a touch of arguing. Things fell into place perfectly, every pseudo-schedule having little flaws, the actual schedules working as you had hoped they would. The give and take about domesticity was accomplished the moment he had asked you to “just start living at my place”.

“Okay, Mulberry, or Sugar Plum?” You asked, holding up two tubes of lipstick as options.

In the process of putting toothpaste on his toothbrush, he looked up and furrowed his brow in thought for a moment. 

“Hmm...neither. Cocoa Butter.” He reached out and picked up a brown shade, holding it up with a triumphant smile.

He was right. It did go best with what you were wearing. Grinning, you nodded mutely and faced the mirror to apply it, wiping away the mistakes and popped the cap back on, standing back.

“Almost ready?” You smiled.

“Almost.” He mumbled around his toothbrush.

“I’ll wait for you out there.”

The bathroom was too small for two people, but it didn’t matter. Rules were made to be bended a little, anyway.

“God, I’m exhausted.”

“You and me both, sweetheart.” Oak mumbled, hand wrapped around your shoulders.

After a long, long day, you had ended up standing in the kitchen having forgotten why you had entered the room in the first place. It didn’t matter after all, because you had a new purpose. The sun was setting and Oak had his arm curled around you comfortably, and here you were. Tired, happy, finally able to relax and just decompressing. It was the best part of the day so far. His fingers rose to gently comb through the ends of your hair as you snuggled into his side, a sigh pulling tension from your shoulders. These were the evenings you loved most, even if your legs were aching because you had stood all day, or the remnants of your headache were still fading from your temples. From this point, in the golden-light-filled kitchen of your home that you shared with the love of your life, anything was possible. The world was yours to take over. Time decided to give you a gift, and these, you were only too happy to accept.

“Long day?” You hummed.

“Yeah. But it’s okay. We’re okay.”

He said it so convincingly that you had to agree without a doubt. This was just fine. It was not a compromise, not something that could be taken from you, just a moment. One that you had to stop to enjoy.

A peace filled the room, softer than velvet as it stroked all worries and stress from your mind.

“Marry me.” He murmured, without looking away from the light outside.

The term “domestic bliss” came to mind. People spent their whole lives searching for something like this.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”

This was happiness. You had found it.

[insecure-hbo-recaps]

hella open

Previously on Insecure: Issa slept with Lawrence but Lawrence is apparently with Tasha. Lawrence told Tasha, and it didn't go well. Lawrence moved out of Chad's place. Molly's therapist helped her try to move up a level at work. Issa starts to accept that Lawrence is done.

Issa is having a red wine and chill with some random. She's wearing a purple football jersey for the occasion, which is an interesting choice. Her hair is braided down in a protective after-shampooing set of Celie cornrows like... it tickles me when famous black women publicly do stuff that is just-for-at-home and mainstream media loses their shit over it (see also Rihanna wearing sparkly bobby pins in her wrapped hair) but, Insecure is for us. I'm not so sure I can cosign this ostentatiously quirky style choice, lol.

The guy moves in to kiss her and Issa awkwardly accepts it. She continually giggles while he is trying to be sexy, past the point where he is amused by it. As an aside, this is everything:

Issa is frankly annoying him now - I get that it's weird for her to have sex with a new person after being with Lawrence for five years. The first time I had a serious long term relationship I was surprised how weird it was to begin sleeping with someone new again. It wasn't something I thought I'd have a problem with, since obviously I'd never had a boyfriend and that was the weird thing. But, it was. Issa asks to reschedule, but she has blown this dude's high - he's wearing jeans with cutouts at the knee, this is some Eric Benet California shit - he doesn't really want to try again. This didn't work. So Issa gets dressed to leave.

Dunes. Issa is about to leave for work when she catches sight of the plume of smoke she burned into her wall at last week's party. She also notices before she goes that the new property management has issued what appears to be every apartment notices for noise violations, taped to their doors.

On the way out, Issa runs into one of the bloods that crashed her party. He has a really big, weird shaped head.

It reminds me of this kid I went to high school with named Mickey who had a big oversized head that sort of came to a point at the top; so more a triangle than round head. Of course now that I've spent several years working in developmental pediatrics I know what happened there is that he should have had a helmet as an infant and his parents didn't get him one, but at the time it was just there goes Mickey with his big ass pointed head that he for some reason chooses to accuentuate with a cloth headband. (This was obviously during the Rocafella era when that was en vogue for men.) I actually think that he ended up being shot and murdered as an adult, but for the life of me I cannot remember his last name in order to check and I'm not exactly on speaking terms with my high school classmates.

Anyway, Mickey (I don't know that we ever get to hear his name and I'm going to make the executive decision that it doesn't matter) says he had fun at Issa's party and she watches him go.

Molly's law office. She's skyping with Hannah in the Chicago office as well as the TSA agent from Get Out, Quintin, a fellow lawyer in a trendy bow tie. There's a Chicago joke about the sun shining so he's going to the beach. That doesn't work here because Chicago is not an overcast city and we don't have an excessive amount of cloudy days. You're thinking Portland, Insecure writers. Idk why the actor didn't correct him, since apparently he's also from Chicago. In the summer I hang a dark blanket on the window behind my blinds because my bedroom is east facing and there's too much sun for 75% of the day. Anyway, they bond over being the token black lawyers and it's all lovely and relatable.

High school. As you may have noticed, I really don't give a shit about this storyline. I did think it was interesting that Issa ended up being the bad guy in this scenario, as the show's hero, because you are definitely tempted to take her side in this. Frida comes across as an overly Clueless White Person with her concerns that the after school program is only black children while Issa isn't bothered because she's just glad the program is full. When I watched this the first time I was uncomfortable with it because while I didn't exactly disagree with Issa's blase attitude, I did think the show made it clear enough that she wasn't doing the right thing to take it. Of course this season will make it overtly clear - more than the first season did in my opinion - that Issa's judgment is sure in the fuck not to be trusted, and this was just another way that they established that. Duly noted that white people aren't always wrong when it comes to race. Issa's attitude doesn't sit well with Frida.

Multicultural Silicon Valley start up, aka Lawrence's computery job. It looks like he's wearing one of those Untuck It shirts. Tangent. I went out with this guy who was born in the 70s because he started hitting on me when I was working on my laptop at Map Room and trying not to cry because I was texting with my new boyfriend-even-though-we'd-been-fucking-for-the-last-three-years-not-as-a-couple because he up and booked a flight for a 10 day trip to Costa Rica and didn't tell me about it til afterward. I was two La Fin du Mondes in already and when I went to close out, the random man offered to buy me another, apparently not noticing my teary eyes. Anyway, because he was born in the 70s, he was particularly preoccupied with anything young and trendy, and frequently mentioned his Untuck It shirts to me. Granted they do look expensive and well made in real life. But they're also just regular fucking shirts that charge a 300% premium because they cut them slightly shorter so that you don't have to... guess what... tuck them in. I've literally only ever seen or heard of these shirts due to advertisements during daytime CNN or MSNBC viewing so like... who's supposed to be impressed by this?

Anyway, The Generic White Guy is obnoxiously eating snack food made from crickets, and Lawrence is talking about his trip to Phuket, so we get the full range of lovely diversity at work in this cool, trendy environment. Apparently the ethnic girl next to Lawrence slept with Corny Colin, which the blonde teases her about. Ethnic Girl is not amused by it. The group discusses a company social, but Lawrence can't go because he "promised someone he'd pick up some chairs." So he's going to go to Tasha's family bbq after all. The group clearly regards Lawrence as a trendsetter amongst what's hot and what's not - a distinction I feel that certain types of black people, in certain environments, are relegated to simply because black culture is presumed to be cooler than the other prevailing cultures - and everyone is disappointed that he will not be going.

Loading dock. Molly is wearing a fabulous black skirt suit with leather trimmed lapels. She's on the phone with her mom about the vow renewal thing her parents keep bugging her about. A worker comes out with her bookcase and assumes the random black man standing nearby is there with her. He asks if he should hand it over and everyone looks at each other, blanketed by the wrongness of the assumptions all around. Molly scoffs that she's not with him, and makes to pick up the bookcase by herself.

Yes, it is exactly as absurd as you'd think it would be, and two things. Motherfuck this whole concept where black women aren't allowed or should be or expected to be the normal amount of "feminine" granted to every other woman. I had this epiphany somewhere not long after high school when I realized how panicked and backed up against the wall I felt that my natural inclination was to resist any kind of vulnerability and the realization that I didn't want to have to be "strong" all the time. That wasn't going to work for me. I am damsel in distress all the time. You will stop when I cross the street, even if I'm timing it wrong with the stop signs - when I politely give you the right of way, you will insist I cross instead. You will pause to let me pass and open doors when I do. You will push my car out of the snow. You will offer to carry the leftovers from the restaurant. I dated a guy who insisted on walking down the stairs in front of me when I was wearing high heels, just in case I tripped. Point being, with regards to this scene, I wouldn't have lifted that shit. I wouldn't have carried shit. I would have been pointedly unable to carry that box. I'd have stood there for a half hour if that's as long as it took for someone to offer to carry the box for me. But it wouldn't have. When you behave with the expectation that you are a woman and you expect to be treated like a woman, something kinda funny happens... people treat you like a delicate woman. It doesn't escape my notice that the black man the worker assumed was there for Molly is there with a white woman, whose boxes he handily carries, while Molly struggles absurdly with the bulky oblong in her five inch heels down a flight of stairs. No ma'am. Later for "strong black womanhood," in this physical sense at any rate.

Molly's fantastic apartment. She's telling Issa she's putting her therapy on hold until she finds another therapist. Naturally, therapy was hitting too close to home, so Molly's instinct was to run from the truth. They are trying to put together this Ikea ass bookcase (related to my previous tangent, whenever I need this kind of manly work done, I outsource it now. Task Rabbit is an app, y'all. That's what it's for. It's not as solid a solution as having an actual man around or anything, but on some level I simply refuse to become a handyman myself just out of sheer principle. You will not deny me my femininity this way, it is a political issue at this point to me.)

Anyway, Molly is bitching about the therapist trying to get too close "just because we both got brown titties." Issa abides this silently. I can't believe they unironically drink Carlo Rossi. I remember being a kid and trying to learn about this kind of stuff and making a note from, of all places, an episode of Intervention about what kinds of wine people actually drink. Haha! (And yes, it was the huge gallon jug of Carlo Rossi.) Issa encourages Molly to keep looking for a new therapist, which Molly flips back on Issa regarding not finding a new Lawrence either.

Issa recounts how she couldn't do casual sex because she was too stuck in her own head. I'm so glad this has never been a problem for me LOL. I don't even know what my social life would be like if I had a hang up about this issue. They decide they should be doing their "ho phase" together - but then Issa met Lawrence and he "made [her] fall in love with him and shit." Issa wants to get on Team Fuck Love, and asks Molly "can you teach me how to ho?" "Bitch that's rude... and yes," Molly replies.

Late night spot. Issa is wearing a ridiculous outfit as she ridicules the other thirsty women in the spot that are there for an apparently different kind of thirst than the one she is. Seriously, what were we supposed to think about this outfit?

Baby, no. Especially as a woman walks past wearing the exact same bad dress. She's also wearing what I'm sure are an expensive pair of espadrilles, but they are wedge espadrilles, with a red floral print. Plainly, that outfit is ridiculous. Issa suggests a vacation to somewhere where they'll be exotic. Molly doesn't care, and seems very underwhelmed by the night.

Issa is chatting with some guy, making awkward double entendres and sexual innuendos. The guy is not amused and flat out walks away from her mid conversation. The next guy at the bar keeps peeling his eyes around at everything else but Issa, finally admitting that he's only talking to her because his friend wanted to talk to Molly. Issa is the grenade. Dayuuuuum, bro. "Do you have any other friends?" he asks, which Issa doesn't dignify with a response.

Molly is talking to Sterling K Brown and is still underwhelmed with the night - the way his friend was only talking to Issa, she's only talking to him. He asks for her number and Molly coolly hands him her business card. She joins Issa at the bar, who has given up on the night and ordered a plate of wings. I get it. There's only so much humiliation you can take when you put yourself out there to pick up a random at the bar. Hell, at least Issa has a friend with her while she does it.

Tasha's house. Tasha is in bed with Lawrence with her hair wrapped gossiping about tv shows. Lawrence tries to distract her and get amorous but Tasha isn't interested in going there. She pushes Lawrence away and we are treated to more of the show-within-a-show.

Back at the Dune's, Issa (in her middle-of-the-bed pillow) can't sleep so she pulls out her vibrator. The battery dies and she spends like ten minutes walking around the apartment looking for new batteries. And, why don't you have a magic wand? True story: I held off buying any kind of sex toys because I never had any and it made me have to seek out men if I wanted to have a sexual encounter; I (it turned out, rightly) figured that if I had any sex toys it would discourage and demotivate me from meeting actual men. Guess what... I was completely correct, and my love life took a marked down turn the same year I bought a magic wand of my own. Could have been timing, coincidence, I don't know, but it was interesting. I have since incorporated it into my regular sex life. (My boyfriend-that-I-loved-so-much-I-was-always-crying was amused the first time I used it with him, calling it "violent" and "over the top" because I was "loud" and it "plugged into the wall." lol. I did nothing but laugh and concede the point, because he was right. But in other news, fun fact: it also works on men, so if you are hooking up with someone that you don't actually want to have sex with, everyone can have an orgasm with no intercourse whatsoever.)

There are a few scenes about Molly's being underpaid and Issa missing the discrimination that I'm going to skip because the point has been made already.

Lunch. Molly is on a date with Sterling K Brown. He's showing her pictures of his niece on his phone, because he's a Good Black Man looking for a Good Black Woman. Actually, given the champagne flute and the bottle on the table I'm going to assume this is brunch (mimosas, you see). Sterling K Brown is wearing an interesting outfit, what says the tribunal?

This rote-date-conversation centers around the fact that they both have ticking biological clocks, and that Sterling K Brown is not being at all ambiguous about his intentions. Molly seems uncomfortable, and isn't following this conversation as well as a woman would be if she were truly interested. I gotta say, Sterling K Brown comes off as a LITTLE thirsty... but, considering Molly really does the most when it comes to choosing a man, like... you can't empathize with her at all. Do we know this, do viewers know this? Molly is wrong and ridiculous and has no clue what she is doing, and her choosing criteria is wildly outdated, immature, and foolish. Like, there is no shrewdness to her relationship behavior at all. She is doing nothing that would prove to be in her best interests or better her life circumstances at all, even if it were just casually dating a potential husband so that you have that back up available when things aren’t going well. This is the kind of thing I might of done before I realized it may be an actual real possibility that I actually might not find the husband I wanted some day.

California Family Cookout. There's ribs, there's dominoes. You feel right at home. Lawrence shows up in some hipster ass shirt, carrying chairs as promised. Tasha is wearing a lime green midi dress with scribbled print and a lopsided sew in. It works, as long as you don't pause at the wrong moment. Why am I hating on both their outfits? Let's move on. Tasha's relatives line up to get a good look at Lawrence and he is clearly there in a capacity of Tasha's Man Friend... which he looks decidedly uncomfortable with. Well, what the fuck were you expecting, Lawrence? Why do you think she hedged around inviting you, and made it clear you didn't have to come?

Lawrence's coworker texts him, and he decides to take it as an out, telling Tasha he'll be right back. "Oh... ok," she says. Damn. Again, people were furious over the "thirsty" character of Tasha. Meanwhile I'm just over here wondering why fellow black women didn't have more sympathy for her flexibility. Some of the time when I peek back into conversations in The Community, I am reminded of all kinds of toxic shit I used to feel and believe when I was younger that I eventually had to unlearn in the interests of any kind of healthy interpersonal life. She cheerfully says she'll see him later, and he leaves.

Molly is at a cupcake shop - those are a thing, y'all, and why? I live near one that granted, makes delicious cupcakes, but they cost like fucking four and a half dollars for one REGULAR SIZE muffin tin mold cupcake! Funnily enough, they are actually named "Molly's Cupcakes." Someone calls out that they will pay for her cupcakes, and it appears to be someone Molly knows:

A guy named Dro and his ostensible wife, who playfully criticizes Molly's insistence on wearing "ugly" dark colors - it's a black greek thing. (The wife is Delta, which I presume makes Molly AKA). The married couple set up the plot for next week's episode, expositing that they are in town for the Kiss n Grind party. It's clear that Molly knows Dro from way back, and the wife is newer.

Dunes. Issa has decided to paint over her burnt wall. She's typically spastic at it, dripping paint everywhere and making a mess. While cleaning off the roller, she spots Mickey Bighead lounging by the pool and is apparently attracted by what she sees. Molly calls; Issa notes her "high pitched fakeness" as she describes the date with Sterling K Brown: although there is clearly nothing wrong with him it's obvious to the both of them that Molly just isn't into it. For SOME reason. And this is the thing that is frustrating about Molly... there's never any legitimate or tangible reason why she has no interest in normal men and normal relationships, or why she brushes off scenarios that would be good for her. Like, what is she looking for instead? What's wrong with Sterling K Brown? Why would she not be interested in him? There are no red flags - it's not his looks, it's not that he's not a professional peer, it's not his baggage as he is unmarried with no children. And perhaps that is the point the show is making - that just because she should be interested in him, that doesn't mean she has to be. In the larger context of women "wanting it all" or "not settling," the point is valid. But in a practical sense, Molly is being ridiculous and her actions are not justified. This is how bitches end up single til 40 when they wind up marrying a bald janitor in the end anyway, is all I'm saying. Making smart choices don’t always feel like the choices you want to make.

Molly is comparing her lack of interest in Sterling K Brown with the fact that Candace and Dro are happy despite the fact that Dro was a mess and never had a "five year plan." So I guess that's what her problem is. She has no idea what will make her happy and is constantly peeking in other peoples' lives like it will tell her what would work in hers. You can always find a reason why a person is lacking when you compare them to someone else because... people aren't the same.

Start up Happy Hour. Lawrence shows up and his coworkers are happy to see him. They know the workplace is one big ho fest once enough drinks start flowing. Ethnic Girl is still pointed about regretting hooking up with Generic White Guy. Which, rude.

Issa has painted over her wall, which looks really good. But then she notices she neglected the smoke on the ceiling. Knowing she can't reach it, she reckons with it and tells it, "you can't have my joy." She spots Mickey Bighead going into his apartment and concocts a plan. She pulls out her charger and takes it down to Mickey's asking whether he left it at her house at her party. He seems momentarily taken aback, but recovers smoothly enough to invite her in.

Start Up Saturday. Lawrence gets a text from Tasha wondering where he is. Ethnic Girl asks what his deal is - and I kind of hate those "work people" that you can tell their primary source of social capital comes from people they meet in and around the work environment. Like other people are wrong for having a life outside of work and are not as immersed as you are. They ask whether Lawrence is single as a waitress comes up to flirt with him. Although Lawrence says he has to take off soon, her overt interest is all it takes for him to stay for a round of shots.

Back at Mickey's they're talking about Gossip Girl. Blake Lively is the most generic white woman on the face of the planet. "Yeah, white people," Mickey says. "There's so many of them," Issa adds awkwardly. Lol. Issa daydreams a confidence boost rap to convince herself to make a move: "even if it's wack, you can still get some head!" Unflattering accidental pause moment:

Issa makes an awkward kiss move, accidentally knocking him in the nose with her forehead. It works anyway, and they start making out. The first time I watched this I was a little annoyed because while I understand Issa's excitement over her new body, her constantly barely clothed state this season just seems so gratuitous. The fact that I personally don't like her body type - not to say she hasn't done a lot of work on it! - mainly just annoyed me. And I don't enjoy her sex scenes. Molly's sex scenes and Lawrence's sex scenes are great. So it's always kind of a let down when we have to watch Issa have sex. Her bra collection is excellent though, I guess.

Mickey asks if he could titty fuck her, which Issa "respectfully decline[s]." He wants to put her legs over her head, which she is uncomfortable with. Her head is squashed into the headboard and it's terrible. To her credit, Issa asks to change positions and finds a way that suits her better. He's wearing white socks. Aw. Flashbacks.

Molly is at home, working with a glass of red. Sterling K Brown invites her to a SZA concert and she declines. He comes back with a dinner invitation which she doesn't even reply to. Whatever, Molly. But hey, she heard my complaints and hired some random men to put the cabinet together for her! There's that at least.

Start up Saturday. Everyone's drunk and Lawrence is explaining the concept of his app to the two girls. What IS "Woot Woot" exactly? Besides the fact that everyone makes fun of him when he talks about it, as far as I can tell it's some kind of group chat client? Idk. Tasha calls, and Lawrence puts the phone to his ear in the loud bar. Tasha is mildly agitated, asking what happened to him because he never came back; her family members are even now in the background asking about him. He apologizes and says he ended up drinking too much. Tasha says if he didn't want to come he should have just told her. Lawrence tries to brush it off but then admits he isn't looking for a serious relationship. Tasha is put out because he ghosted on her in front of her entire family; if he didn't want a serious thing he shouldn't have come. He embarrassed her. Lawrence apologizes in a way that still blames it on her: "I know how much you wanted me to be there." It's her fault for expecting his intentions to match his behavior, not his fault for not being up front and leading her on. Tasha tells him to stop acting like he gives a fuck about her feelings, because he "fronted like it was [something more], apologizing for shit" he knew he wasn't sorry for.

Lawrence insists he was being genuine. Tasha: "You're a fuck nigga. You're worse than a fuck nigga. You're a fuck nigga who thinks he's a good dude." And she hangs up. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the cultural conundrum facing all of us in this new technologically advanced hook up landscape we are all attempting to navigate. I don't know how it used to be before Swiper Not Swiping and casual sex became the rule, not the exception, but I also find that men are preoccupied with being "good guys" in a way that belies their shitty behavior; some kind of veneer of honesty and distance that doesn't quite square with the level of intimacy and acquiescence they are seeking from their partners. Maybe back in the day it was understood you couldn't get that level of commitment without expressly acknowledging it; I find these days men think they get to have their cake and eat it too on this issue.

Anyway, look at this shit:

Bitch, what are you wearing? Those 1980s Jessie Spano mom jeans. Her name is "Arpana" which leads me to believe she's supposed to be Indian, but I think in real life her body type would indicate she is something else. She's probably Latina tbh. (And no I'm not going to google this to find out.) Anyway, Lawrence is laughing off his conversation with Tasha well enough as he rejoins the party.

Back at the Dunes, Issa is sneaking out of Mickey's apartment. She isn't quiet enough and he wakes up, offering for her to sleep over. Super generous considering she lives literally right upstairs. As Issa grabs her phone to go, she decides she isn't actually willing to sacrifice her phone charger for this farce, so she snatches it up too. But not to fear: it turns out Mickey was aware of her ruse the entire time, as his phone has been sitting plugged into his own not-missing charger the whole time. Issa can't even be mad as she lets out a chuckle and goes. She seems pleased, at least, with this first foray into "honess."

[the-uptake]

Only the Vital Ones, 1

The Uptake, With Symbiotic Self-Indulgence. Book III, Chapter 3, Part 1. (Go to Pt.2) Go to next chapter.

TW: Drug use?

“In those days, desires weren’t allowed to become reality. So, fantasy was substituted for them–films, books, pictures. They called it ‘art.’ But, when your desires become reality, you don’t need fantasy any longer, or art.”–Amyl Nitrate, “Jubilee”

The small brushed steel kitchen table of Cecil and ‘Choly’s studio apartment abutted a full-height open-frame modular shelving unit, which doubled as a space divider between the kitchen and the daybed in the back corner that ‘Choly frequented whenever scaling the loft bed proved too taxing. Slumped at it in a dark tank top and his orange leggings, before the ex-stalker lay a quaint butcher-paper and twine parcel, a paring knife, and his reader on a kickstand. With the apartment to himself, ‘Choly surveyed some of the pieces in his drafts and rubbed at his marred face in a dull restlessness. Grazing his recent cheek suture, he flinched and stood, and he paced in the narrow track the length of the apartment which functioned not unlike a hallway.

Two years ago, such incisions would have been made in the spirit of verbot chasing. He sniveled in anger at the impotence of having had to make such a superficial adjustment for sake of his own clumsiness, rather than in the aftermath of risky enterprises. He'd tried several times to contact the Tellurides after the riots and subsequent quarantine, and he knew in his gut that all three of them had gotten walled up with the rest of the Quarter. And the Geek, and Chalcedony, too, for all he knew. His only solace came in knowing that at least his parents had moved back in together downstate before things had gotten especially hairy.

He returned to the kitchen and rinsed out a mug to pour himself a fresh cup of black coffee from the carafe Cecil had brewed for breakfast, and he sat again. Then, he snipped the string on the box and unfurled its wrappings. His horn-rimmed glasses came off and lay across the table from him as he continued massaging at his cheeks and chin and neck marbled with errant scars. He flicked up the messaging app frame and clicked on Augen’s active username, and sighed. Rather than initiate conversation, he produced from the small wax-coated cardstock box a decently-sized chalky pastel ball. He smoothed out the parchment with a detached free hand, and set down the ball of Confec atop it with the other.

The ball bore a mealy consistency somewhere between soap and fudge. A quarter-inch butt fell to the paper, and he stuck it in his mouth to let the hyssop-like bouquet melt on his tongue as he sank into his chair and hesitated on the chat he’d opened.

ketherphorbia: you’re up early 9augen: funny, i was just about to message you. not at the library today? ketherphorbia: no, and i’m not getting anywhere with what i was trying to do so you have my full attention 9augen: how does meeting up for lunch sound? ketherphorbia: i ketherphorbia: i just started in on a fresh confec bonbon, but yeah 9augen: the finnegans across the street from your old place? its on me ketherphorbia: something tells me you’re just looking for an excuse to milk their one-cred goldfinch lunch special 9augen: if you want a few, just say so. can you be there in... say, an hour? ketherphorbia: it honestly sounds fantastic. we can both talk. if you want

Still rattled from the abrupt invitation, ‘Choly put the knife in the sink and rounded the modular divider to rummage in the side-table drawers for something to throw on. First came his back brace, splints, and wrist braces, and he yanked together his salmon button-up, black sweater with the elbows cut out, and slashed jeans over the orange leggings. Taking his jewelry box into the bathroom, he then brushed his bangtails and tucked the right side back with his ABC-gum barrette. He hooked his new black acrylic skull-cutout gauge hangers into his ears, and plucked his balloon animal and saturn-symbol pendants to string around his neck. The spoon pin went in his left collar-point, and he sat on the daybed for his socks. On the way out the door, he tucked the wax paper wrapped Confec into his diamond-shaped cross-body bag and nabbed his cane, retrieved his glasses, and slipped into his mint creepers.

Along the short trip down to Level 5, he shot Cecil a short message:

|| Might not be home when you get off work. Augen invited me to lunch. He hasn’t said hardly a word since it happened, and I get the feeling he needs a friend right now. ||

Cecil replied to him as ‘Choly waved his pass and boarded the toll lift:

|| I can only imagine how hard it’s been for him. Hope he’s doing ok. You two have a good time. Love you. Give him a kiss for me ||

With a chuckle and a fish emoticon, ‘Choly exited the lift and hobbled down the street. He texted Augen that he'd arrived, asking where to meet him, because at first he didn't see him outside. Leaning on the front facade of the Finnegan’s, a tall gothic figure smoked religiously. The young man with dark hair pulled into a low messy bun wore a black button-down and drop-crotch pants, a dark grey knee-length gauzy vest, a large black shawl-scarf wrapped around his shoulders and neck, and mesh boots. Upon closer inspection, the combination of facial body mods--spider bites, gauged one-inch ears and 2ga medusa with glass plugs, symmetrical double brow piercings, and batwing clicker--confirmed for ‘Choly that this was his friend. Somehow, even with his suspicion as to why Augen had initiated the meeting, he’d still expected to find him his old self, and not this anxious chain-smoking human mess. Augen rolled his eyes at him, having just checked his messages.

“Word of warning, I’m a bit thrushed right now,” 'Choly blurted out. Rather than respond, Augen leaned down and steadied ‘Choly’s chin to give him a kiss. ‘Choly smiled strangely and reciprocated with a second peck, then navigated the awkward posture into a hug as he tucked his head against Augen’s chest. It unnerved 'Choly that his friend was no longer cold-blooded, no longer clammy and tepid, but he kept it to himself. “...Hello to you, too.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Augen rubbed at ‘Choly’s scruff and held the door for him. He eyed ‘Choly’s sweater dully in passing. “Don’t Quit Your Daydream, huh?”

‘Choly looked down at the saying printed on his front once they’d cleared the atrium, and his brows upturned.

“Hah, maladaptive daydreaming. Had it for years. I just kinda threw something on so I wouldn’t run late.”

“Daydream... into a living nightmare...”

With the detached comment, Augen waved down a server to seat them. Marinating in his dissociative veneer, ‘Choly swallowed hard at the prospect of purposefully navigating his mental filter. They settled at a table amid the lunch traffic, and with a series of finger gestures along the tabletop which doubled as a touchscreen menu, both ordered pinzones dorados and got to glancing over their options in silence. The server, a young brunet named Bert, promptly came and left with their drinks, as well as a basket of multicolored meal-rinds and two dishes of salsa. 'Choly sipped at his golden glowing pinzón, a smooth over-ice mix of tonic, hydroponic mezcal, triple sec, and lime liqueur, and mentally praised the facility with which one could get drunk at any hour in this city.

“So... this is a thing now.” ‘Choly got a rind real heavy with salsa and shoved it in his mouth.

Augen knocked back half his liquor in one motion, and slouched over it.

“I’d lived myself so fully, that I’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be human. I’ve missed smoking, if we’re looking for an upside to all this.”

“There’s gotta be a way t’get back what you had. At least some of it?”

“That’s... just about the last thing I want to talk about right now. Past tense doesn’t feel so great.”

They used their mouths to crunch rinds and nothing else. Augen took a hit off the cig around his neck, and with a deep exhale he shut his sunken eyes, the vapors entangling with the odd abstract light fixture over the table. Once they'd placed their orders, 'Choly did his best to people watch behind a zoned out Augen, mostly observing the rotation of three servers popping in and out of the kitchen door with dishes. When a couple that sat on the same side of their far-corner booth thought 'Choly gawked at their unapologetic PDAs and gave him a stink-eye, he coughed, and started trying to read the pattern of scrapbooked web articles which plastered every wall and the ceiling of the restaurant. The theme of all the articles painted up Tri-City's sheer melting pot culture as a fusion city, boasting a collage of articles about people from just about every level in the hyper-metroplex.

Bert interrupted their silence with their meals, and 'Choly squirmed back to give the server the space to lay it out on the table. The teen couldn't hide a sigh of relief as he picked up one plate, and glanced between the both of them.

"Who ordered the wraps?"

Augen gave him a lazy hand gesture, and the plate slid over to him. On Augen’s plate of spring wraps lay six large seared shrimp. Sliced in half both for presentation and facility, the three girthy wraps were stuffed with a combination of mushroom slices, seaweed, and fried mealworms.

"And then, the benedict's yours. Extra sauce?"

"Yes, thank you," 'Choly lauded with a heavily modulated affect, as the other mess of a plate came his way. A viscous pale yellow-green mess blanketed two nondescript mounds of protein and bread, and along its side the cook had scattered soft, colorful citrus gummies. "So glad I can still get breakfast here this late."

"Is there anyth--" Bert broke off, unable not to stare at Augen, as he fished out a pair of napkin-rolled utensils to give them. Augen returned the stare, deadpan.

"...Spring wraps, and a side order of shrimp. It is you."

‘Choly gave the poor boy a glossy smile, about to praise how good it all looked, but he quickly drooped in recognition of the tension.

“So I took a bath today,” Augen dismissed, total fatigue in his voice. “Big deal.”

‘Choly coughed, cataract-bloom eyes wide as he took a stiff sip. Setting the pinzón back down, he tried to smile up at the waiter again, his voice cracking.

"Could we get more rinds?"

The waiter shook his head and shut his eyes, then nodded.

“--Sure thing.”

“And we already need another round of birds.” Augen traced the edge of the faded glass with one black-polished finger and a heavy-lidded, eyelined smirk.

The server flashed him a fake grin, poorly hiding his revelry that the city had defanged the loathsome goth.

“I’ll be right back.”

‘Choly fought with the self-conscious selfishness of directing the conversation to himself, but still he persisted, hoping to distract his friend from getting recognized by his typical order. ‘Choly unrolled his flatware to tuck the napkin beside his plate, and took up the table knife and fork with zeal. He didn’t want to admit it, but as had become typical in the past few weeks, the only thing he’d put in his stomach so far by that time of day was a slice of wax and half a cup of coffee. Augen took precise bites, holding his food gingerly with thoroughly ring-encrusted hands. His face stitched with a faint sweat which could have been from stress, the heat of the food, or even from the start of enebriation. 'Choly observed in distant and fascinated contemplation, unsure whether his friend derived his mannerisms from humanity or the vestiges of having so recently once been a hybrid. Augen shot him a vague glance, and he cringed from getting caught watching. ‘Choly pushed the sauce-drenched larva-hash back up on the one round bready thing he’d been cutting bites from, sheepish.

“If you don’t wanna talk about it, there’s gotta be something you can do to take your mind off it instead? Have you tried... writing, since...?”

Augen finished off the first drink right when Bert swung by two replacements and more rinds and salsa. ‘Choly hadn’t even drunk half of his first pinzón yet, and he nudged his new one his friend’s way, knowing the rate this meal was going. “Most of the time,” the goth mumbled, welcoming the offer, “my writing takes a particular head space. And I sure as fuck haven’t been in it.”

“I mean, like. Not in a carnal sense. Sort of in a carnal sense. An emotional sense? A purgative sense?”

Augen kept his eyes on his food, but his ears patently on his friend. ‘Choly’s hallmark withdrawn posture and tone signaled vague, incumbent rambling. With welcome resignation the goth listened, as he’d aspired from the start. After all, ‘Choly always had been the long-winded one of them.

“You... You remember how I was writing stories about me gettin’ with the Geek, but then I stopped abruptly? The last wip I posted before I stopped was right after I found out that the Geek and the Larva were the same person. Early on, the reasons I couldn’t reconcile with finishing the piece were ‘cause of how badly my first encounter with him went, but then fantasy turned into reality and he... caught me stalkin’ him and. You remember that right?” ‘Choly fished his reader from his bag, and tried to locate a picture in his camera roll. “I know I sent you a selfie of the black eye he gave me...”

“...You couldn’t shut up about it for a month. Heh.”

‘Choly looked up from his reader with a dull gloss to his features, and sniffed. “He even tracked me down, what, five weeks later? An’ things got super weird--" He chewed at his labret. "...I’m still trying to process everything that happened two years ago.”

“This is about the walls, isn’t it.”

“Not quite. And yet. Exactly. I just. I owe it to him to get the details right, don’t I? It feels real lousy to even consider writing a nonfictional account of him, and yet.” He popped an orange gummy in his mouth, and licked the thick, tangy sauce off his swan-splinted fingertip. “I feel like I need to get the very concept of him in print, to get it out from inside of me. I know it’s already been two years since the walls went up, but I don’t think it’s possible for me to forget all that... death, even for a day.” A grapefruit one, this time. “How do you stay motivated to write something that hurts and arouses you, both in ways nothing else has ever really managed to?”

Augen dipped a spring roll in his salsa, and started working on the third drink. Not glancing up from his food, his brows piqued with heavy lids.

“A difficult question. Perhaps a better reply would be another question: Who’re you writing this for?”

‘Choly set down his utensils and stared down his food.

“I’d say it was for me, but I feel like I need to put his ghost to rest. I’d say it was for him, but it’s also in hopes of jamming my brain because something more accurate could exist of him than anything I’ve written of him prior. And I’d... say it was for you, or any of my followers, but I... don’t even know if I can bring myself to post the results.” The dreg sneaked the Confec from his bag and set it beside his plate. “I... I gotta have another slice.”

That got Augen’s attention.

“Mmh. Mind sharing?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

‘Choly sliced through the partial ball a few times with his thumbs against the spine of the knife, and Augen reached over to help himself to one. Wincing at the bitterness, he chewed it up and washed it down with more liquor. 'Choly simply slouched back and let the stringent melt go for a few minutes, thinking it nearly paired with the citrus cubes.

“Cecil knows about us,” Augen began, eyes stitched shut, “but you never did tell Cecil about the Geek, did you? Have you ever wanted to?”

“I told him about Chalcedony. And he may not have said anything, but I know he knows about me an’ the Geek. Can’t not. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how open he is to it all. It’s like he believes leaving me untethered keeps me more faithful. He’s... not wrong, I guess.” ‘Choly looked up when he heard Augen stifle a choke, and suddenly he regretted sharing. His friend’s face was glistening, grey eyes wide. “Are you-- all right?”

“How’s everything tasting so far?” Bert interjected in passing, trying to hide concern when he he paused noticing Augen’s demeanor.

“Don't mind him." 'Choly quickly stashed the Confec back in his bag, unsure whether having it would cause them trouble. "I think something just went down the wrong way.”

The boy frowned at the Augen, who blanched and rubbed at his Adam’s apple a bit. On cue, Augen forced a cough.

“I... It's nothing."

Augen tapped a finger on his glass, not looking to Bert, and the waiter plucked up their empty glasses with a nod and excused himself, shaking his head in delirious incredulity at what had become of their once most troublesome patron.

“Seriously... Are you okay? You know you’re supposed to let that stuff melt slow.”

Rather than reply, the goth took one of ‘Choly’s wristbraced hands in both of his own, and guided it to hold his strained throat. He sustained breathless, tormented eye contact.

“It's wearing off faster than I was planning. Thought for sure I'd at least get to slagging finish eating. I'll... I'll take it.”

On to Part 2 »»»

[insecure-hbo-the-recaps]

hella open

Previously on Insecure: Issa slept with Lawrence but Lawrence is apparently with Tasha. Lawrence told Tasha, and it didn’t go well. Lawrence moved out of Chad’s place. Molly’s therapist helped her try to move up a level at work. Issa starts to accept that Lawrence is done.

Issa is having a red wine and chill with some random. She’s wearing a purple football jersey for the occasion, which is an interesting choice. Her hair is braided down in a protective after-shampooing set of Celie cornrows like… it tickles me when famous black women publicly do stuff that is just-for-at-home and mainstream media loses their shit over it (see also Rihanna wearing sparkly bobby pins in her wrapped hair) but, Insecure is for us. I’m not so sure I can cosign this ostentatiously quirky style choice, lol.

The guy moves in to kiss her and Issa awkwardly accepts it. She continually giggles while he is trying to be sexy, past the point where he is amused by it. As an aside, this is everything:

Issa is frankly annoying him now - I get that it’s weird for her to have sex with a new person after being with Lawrence for five years. The first time I had a serious long term relationship I was surprised how weird it was to begin sleeping with someone new again. It wasn’t something I thought I’d have a problem with, since obviously I’d never had a boyfriend and that was the weird thing. But, it was. Issa asks to reschedule, but she has blown this dude’s high - he’s wearing jeans with cutouts at the knee, this is some Eric Benet California shit - he doesn’t really want to try again. This didn’t work. So Issa gets dressed to leave.

Dunes. Issa is about to leave for work when she catches sight of the plume of smoke she burned into her wall at last week’s party. She also notices before she goes that the new property management has issued what appears to be every apartment notices for noise violations, taped to their doors.

On the way out, Issa runs into one of the bloods that crashed her party. He has a really big, weird shaped head.

It reminds me of this kid I went to high school with named Mickey who had a big oversized head that sort of came to a point at the top; so more a triangle than round head. Of course now that I’ve spent several years working in developmental pediatrics I know what happened there is that he should have had a helmet as an infant and his parents didn’t get him one, but at the time it was just there goes Mickey with his big ass pointed head that he for some reason chooses to accuentuate with a cloth headband. (This was obviously during the Rocafella era when that was en vogue for men.) I actually think that he ended up being shot and murdered as an adult, but for the life of me I cannot remember his last name in order to check and I’m not exactly on speaking terms with my high school classmates.

Anyway, Mickey (I don’t know that we ever get to hear his name and I’m going to make the executive decision that it doesn’t matter) says he had fun at Issa’s party and she watches him go.

Molly’s law office. She’s skyping with Hannah in the Chicago office as well as the TSA agent from Get Out, Quintin, a fellow lawyer in a trendy bow tie. There’s a Chicago joke about the sun shining so he’s going to the beach. That doesn’t work here because Chicago is not an overcast city and we don’t have an excessive amount of cloudy days. You’re thinking Portland, Insecure writers. Idk why the actor didn’t correct him, since apparently he’s also from Chicago. In the summer I hang a dark blanket on the window behind my blinds because my bedroom is east facing and there’s too much sun for 75% of the day. Anyway, they bond over being the token black lawyers and it’s all lovely and relatable.

High school. As you may have noticed, I really don’t give a shit about this storyline. I did think it was interesting that Issa ended up being the bad guy in this scenario, as the show’s hero, because you are definitely tempted to take her side in this. Frida comes across as an overly Clueless White Person with her concerns that the after school program is only black children while Issa isn’t bothered because she’s just glad the program is full. When I watched this the first time I was uncomfortable with it because while I didn’t exactly disagree with Issa’s blase attitude, I did think the show made it clear enough that she wasn’t doing the right thing to take it. Of course this season will make it overtly clear - more than the first season did in my opinion - that Issa’s judgment is sure in the fuck not to be trusted, and this was just another way that they established that. Duly noted that white people aren’t always wrong when it comes to race. Issa’s attitude doesn’t sit well with Frida.

Multicultural Silicon Valley start up, aka Lawrence’s computery job. It looks like he’s wearing one of those Untuck It shirts. Tangent. I went out with this guy who was born in the 70s because he started hitting on me when I was working on my laptop at Map Room and trying not to cry because I was texting with my new boyfriend-even-though-we’d-been-fucking-for-the-last-three-years-not-as-a-couple because he up and booked a flight for a 10 day trip to Costa Rica and didn’t tell me about it til afterward. I was two La Fin du Mondes in already and when I went to close out, the random man offered to buy me another, apparently not noticing my teary eyes. Anyway, because he was born in the 70s, he was particularly preoccupied with anything young and trendy, and frequently mentioned his Untuck It shirts to me. Granted they do look expensive and well made in real life. But they’re also just regular fucking shirts that charge a 300% premium because they cut them slightly shorter so that you don’t have to… guess what… tuck them in. I’ve literally only ever seen or heard of these shirts due to advertisements during daytime CNN or MSNBC viewing so like… who’s supposed to be impressed by this?

Anyway, The Generic White Guy is obnoxiously eating snack food made from crickets, and Lawrence is talking about his trip to Phuket, so we get the full range of lovely diversity at work in this cool, trendy environment. Apparently the ethnic girl next to Lawrence slept with Corny Colin, which the blonde teases her about. Ethnic Girl is not amused by it. The group discusses a company social, but Lawrence can’t go because he “promised someone he’d pick up some chairs.” So he’s going to go to Tasha’s family bbq after all. The group clearly regards Lawrence as a trendsetter amongst what’s hot and what’s not - a distinction I feel that certain types of black people, in certain environments, are relegated to simply because black culture is presumed to be cooler than the other prevailing cultures - and everyone is disappointed that he will not be going.

Loading dock. Molly is wearing a fabulous black skirt suit with leather trimmed lapels. She’s on the phone with her mom about the vow renewal thing her parents keep bugging her about. A worker comes out with her bookcase and assumes the random black man standing nearby is there with her. He asks if he should hand it over and everyone looks at each other, blanketed by the wrongness of the assumptions all around. Molly scoffs that she’s not with him, and makes to pick up the bookcase by herself.

Yes, it is exactly as absurd as you’d think it would be, and two things. Motherfuck this whole concept where black women aren’t allowed or should be or expected to be the normal amount of “feminine” granted to every other woman. I had this epiphany somewhere not long after high school when I realized how panicked and backed up against the wall I felt that my natural inclination was to resist any kind of vulnerability and the realization that I didn’t want to have to be “strong” all the time. That wasn’t going to work for me. I am damsel in distress all the time. You will stop when I cross the street, even if I’m timing it wrong with the stop signs - when I politely give you the right of way, you will insist I cross instead. You will pause to let me pass and open doors when I do. You will push my car out of the snow. You will offer to carry the leftovers from the restaurant. I dated a guy who insisted on walking down the stairs in front of me when I was wearing high heels, just in case I tripped. Point being, with regards to this scene, I wouldn’t have lifted that shit. I wouldn’t have carried shit. I would have been pointedly unable to carry that box. I’d have stood there for a half hour if that’s as long as it took for someone to offer to carry the box for me. But it wouldn’t have. When you behave with the expectation that you are a woman and you expect to be treated like a woman, something kinda funny happens… people treat you like a delicate woman. It doesn’t escape my notice that the black man the worker assumed was there for Molly is there with a white woman, whose boxes he handily carries, while Molly struggles absurdly with the bulky oblong in her five inch heels down a flight of stairs. No ma'am. Later for “strong black womanhood,” in this physical sense at any rate.

Molly’s fantastic apartment. She’s telling Issa she’s putting her therapy on hold until she finds another therapist. Naturally, therapy was hitting too close to home, so Molly’s instinct was to run from the truth. They are trying to put together this Ikea ass bookcase (related to my previous tangent, whenever I need this kind of manly work done, I outsource it now. Task Rabbit is an app, y'all. That’s what it’s for. It’s not as solid a solution as having an actual man around or anything, but on some level I simply refuse to become a handyman myself just out of sheer principle. You will not deny me my femininity this way, it is a political issue at this point to me.)

Anyway, Molly is bitching about the therapist trying to get too close “just because we both got brown titties.” Issa abides this silently. I can’t believe they unironically drink Carlo Rossi. I remember being a kid and trying to learn about this kind of stuff and making a note from, of all places, an episode of Intervention about what kinds of wine people actually drink. Haha! (And yes, it was the huge gallon jug of Carlo Rossi.) Issa encourages Molly to keep looking for a new therapist, which Molly flips back on Issa regarding not finding a new Lawrence either.

Issa recounts how she couldn’t do casual sex because she was too stuck in her own head. I’m so glad this has never been a problem for me LOL. I don’t even know what my social life would be like if I had a hang up about this issue. They decide they should be doing their “ho phase” together - but then Issa met Lawrence and he “made [her] fall in love with him and shit.” Issa wants to get on Team Fuck Love, and asks Molly “can you teach me how to ho?” “Bitch that’s rude… and yes,” Molly replies.

Late night spot. Issa is wearing a ridiculous outfit as she ridicules the other thirsty women in the spot that are there for an apparently different kind of thirst than the one she is. Seriously, what were we supposed to think about this outfit?

Baby, no. Especially as a woman walks past wearing the exact same bad dress. She’s also wearing what I’m sure are an expensive pair of espadrilles, but they are wedge espadrilles, with a red floral print. Plainly, that outfit is ridiculous. Issa suggests a vacation to somewhere where they’ll be exotic. Molly doesn’t care, and seems very underwhelmed by the night.

Issa is chatting with some guy, making awkward double entendres and sexual innuendos. The guy is not amused and flat out walks away from her mid conversation. The next guy at the bar keeps peeling his eyes around at everything else but Issa, finally admitting that he’s only talking to her because his friend wanted to talk to Molly. Issa is the grenade. Dayuuuuum, bro. “Do you have any other friends?” he asks, which Issa doesn’t dignify with a response.

Molly is talking to Sterling K Brown and is still underwhelmed with the night - the way his friend was only talking to Issa, she’s only talking to him. He asks for her number and Molly coolly hands him her business card. She joins Issa at the bar, who has given up on the night and ordered a plate of wings. I get it. There’s only so much humiliation you can take when you put yourself out there to pick up a random at the bar. Hell, at least Issa has a friend with her while she does it.

Tasha’s house. Tasha is in bed with Lawrence with her hair wrapped gossiping about tv shows. Lawrence tries to distract her and get amorous but Tasha isn’t interested in going there. She pushes Lawrence away and we are treated to more of the show-within-a-show.

Back at the Dune’s, Issa (in her middle-of-the-bed pillow) can’t sleep so she pulls out her vibrator. The battery dies and she spends like ten minutes walking around the apartment looking for new batteries. And, why don’t you have a magic wand? True story: I held off buying any kind of sex toys because I never had any and it made me have to seek out men if I wanted to have a sexual encounter; I (it turned out, rightly) figured that if I had any sex toys it would discourage and demotivate me from meeting actual men. Guess what… I was completely correct, and my love life took a marked down turn the same year I bought a magic wand of my own. Could have been timing, coincidence, I don’t know, but it was interesting. I have since incorporated it into my regular sex life. (My boyfriend-that-I-loved-so-much-I-was-always-crying was amused the first time I used it with him, calling it “violent” and “over the top” because I was “loud” and it “plugged into the wall.” lol. I did nothing but laugh and concede the point, because he was right. But in other news, fun fact: it also works on men, so if you are hooking up with someone that you don’t actually want to have sex with, everyone can have an orgasm with no intercourse whatsoever.)

There are a few scenes about Molly’s being underpaid and Issa missing the discrimination that I’m going to skip because the point has been made already.

Lunch. Molly is on a date with Sterling K Brown. He’s showing her pictures of his niece on his phone, because he’s a Good Black Man looking for a Good Black Woman. Actually, given the champagne flute and the bottle on the table I’m going to assume this is brunch (mimosas, you see). Sterling K Brown is wearing an interesting outfit, what says the tribunal?

This rote-date-conversation centers around the fact that they both have ticking biological clocks, and that Sterling K Brown is not being at all ambiguous about his intentions. Molly seems uncomfortable, and isn’t following this conversation as well as a woman would be if she were truly interested. I gotta say, Sterling K Brown comes off as a LITTLE thirsty… but, considering Molly really does the most when it comes to choosing a man, like… you can’t empathize with her at all. Do we know this, do viewers know this? Molly is wrong and ridiculous and has no clue what she is doing, and her choosing criteria is wildly outdated, immature, and foolish. Like, there is no shrewdness to her relationship behavior at all. She is doing nothing that would prove to be in her best interests or better her life circumstances at all, even if it were just casually dating a potential husband so that you have that back up available when things aren’t going well. This is the kind of thing I might of done before I realized it may be an actual real possibility that I actually might not find the husband I wanted some day.

California Family Cookout. There’s ribs, there’s dominoes. You feel right at home. Lawrence shows up in some hipster ass shirt, carrying chairs as promised. Tasha is wearing a lime green midi dress with scribbled print and a lopsided sew in. It works, as long as you don’t pause at the wrong moment. Why am I hating on both their outfits? Let’s move on. Tasha’s relatives line up to get a good look at Lawrence and he is clearly there in a capacity of Tasha’s Man Friend… which he looks decidedly uncomfortable with. Well, what the fuck were you expecting, Lawrence? Why do you think she hedged around inviting you, and made it clear you didn’t have to come?

Lawrence’s coworker texts him, and he decides to take it as an out, telling Tasha he’ll be right back. “Oh… ok,” she says. Damn. Again, people were furious over the “thirsty” character of Tasha. Meanwhile I’m just over here wondering why fellow black women didn’t have more sympathy for her flexibility. Some of the time when I peek back into conversations in The Community, I am reminded of all kinds of toxic shit I used to feel and believe when I was younger that I eventually had to unlearn in the interests of any kind of healthy interpersonal life. She cheerfully says she’ll see him later, and he leaves.

Molly is at a cupcake shop - those are a thing, y'all, and why? I live near one that granted, makes delicious cupcakes, but they cost like fucking four and a half dollars for one REGULAR SIZE muffin tin mold cupcake! Funnily enough, they are actually named “Molly’s Cupcakes.” Someone calls out that they will pay for her cupcakes, and it appears to be someone Molly knows:

A guy named Dro and his ostensible wife, who playfully criticizes Molly’s insistence on wearing “ugly” dark colors - it’s a black greek thing. (The wife is Delta, which I presume makes Molly AKA). The married couple set up the plot for next week’s episode, expositing that they are in town for the Kiss n Grind party. It’s clear that Molly knows Dro from way back, and the wife is newer.

Dunes. Issa has decided to paint over her burnt wall. She’s typically spastic at it, dripping paint everywhere and making a mess. While cleaning off the roller, she spots Mickey Bighead lounging by the pool and is apparently attracted by what she sees. Molly calls; Issa notes her “high pitched fakeness” as she describes the date with Sterling K Brown: although there is clearly nothing wrong with him it’s obvious to the both of them that Molly just isn’t into it. For SOME reason. And this is the thing that is frustrating about Molly… there’s never any legitimate or tangible reason why she has no interest in normal men and normal relationships, or why she brushes off scenarios that would be good for her. Like, what is she looking for instead? What’s wrong with Sterling K Brown? Why would she not be interested in him? There are no red flags - it’s not his looks, it’s not that he’s not a professional peer, it’s not his baggage as he is unmarried with no children. And perhaps that is the point the show is making - that just because she should be interested in him, that doesn’t mean she has to be. In the larger context of women “wanting it all” or “not settling,” the point is valid. But in a practical sense, Molly is being ridiculous and her actions are not justified. This is how bitches end up single til 40 when they wind up marrying a bald janitor in the end anyway, is all I’m saying. Making smart choices don’t always feel like the choices you want to make.

Molly is comparing her lack of interest in Sterling K Brown with the fact that Candace and Dro are happy despite the fact that Dro was a mess and never had a “five year plan.” So I guess that’s what her problem is. She has no idea what will make her happy and is constantly peeking in other peoples’ lives like it will tell her what would work in hers. You can always find a reason why a person is lacking when you compare them to someone else because… people aren’t the same.

Start up Happy Hour. Lawrence shows up and his coworkers are happy to see him. They know the workplace is one big ho fest once enough drinks start flowing. Ethnic Girl is still pointed about regretting hooking up with Generic White Guy. Which, rude.

Issa has painted over her wall, which looks really good. But then she notices she neglected the smoke on the ceiling. Knowing she can’t reach it, she reckons with it and tells it, “you can’t have my joy.” She spots Mickey Bighead going into his apartment and concocts a plan. She pulls out her charger and takes it down to Mickey’s asking whether he left it at her house at her party. He seems momentarily taken aback, but recovers smoothly enough to invite her in.

Start Up Saturday. Lawrence gets a text from Tasha wondering where he is. Ethnic Girl asks what his deal is - and I kind of hate those “work people” that you can tell their primary source of social capital comes from people they meet in and around the work environment. Like other people are wrong for having a life outside of work and are not as immersed as you are. They ask whether Lawrence is single as a waitress comes up to flirt with him. Although Lawrence says he has to take off soon, her overt interest is all it takes for him to stay for a round of shots.

Back at Mickey’s they’re talking about Gossip Girl. Blake Lively is the most generic white woman on the face of the planet. “Yeah, white people,” Mickey says. “There’s so many of them,” Issa adds awkwardly. Lol. Issa daydreams a confidence boost rap to convince herself to make a move: “even if it’s wack, you can still get some head!” Unflattering accidental pause moment:

Issa makes an awkward kiss move, accidentally knocking him in the nose with her forehead. It works anyway, and they start making out. The first time I watched this I was a little annoyed because while I understand Issa’s excitement over her new body, her constantly barely clothed state this season just seems so gratuitous. The fact that I personally don’t like her body type - not to say she hasn’t done a lot of work on it! - mainly just annoyed me. And I don’t enjoy her sex scenes. Molly’s sex scenes and Lawrence’s sex scenes are great. So it’s always kind of a let down when we have to watch Issa have sex. Her bra collection is excellent though, I guess.

Mickey asks if he could titty fuck her, which Issa “respectfully decline[s].” He wants to put her legs over her head, which she is uncomfortable with. Her head is squashed into the headboard and it’s terrible. To her credit, Issa asks to change positions and finds a way that suits her better. He’s wearing white socks. Aw. Flashbacks.

Molly is at home, working with a glass of red. Sterling K Brown invites her to a SZA concert and she declines. He comes back with a dinner invitation which she doesn’t even reply to. Whatever, Molly. But hey, she heard my complaints and hired some random men to put the cabinet together for her! There’s that at least.

Start up Saturday. Everyone’s drunk and Lawrence is explaining the concept of his app to the two girls. What IS “Woot Woot” exactly? Besides the fact that everyone makes fun of him when he talks about it, as far as I can tell it’s some kind of group chat client? Idk. Tasha calls, and Lawrence puts the phone to his ear in the loud bar. Tasha is mildly agitated, asking what happened to him because he never came back; her family members are even now in the background asking about him. He apologizes and says he ended up drinking too much. Tasha says if he didn’t want to come he should have just told her. Lawrence tries to brush it off but then admits he isn’t looking for a serious relationship. Tasha is put out because he ghosted on her in front of her entire family; if he didn’t want a serious thing he shouldn’t have come. He embarrassed her. Lawrence apologizes in a way that still blames it on her: “I know how much you wanted me to be there.” It’s her fault for expecting his intentions to match his behavior, not his fault for not being up front and leading her on. Tasha tells him to stop acting like he gives a fuck about her feelings, because he “fronted like it was [something more], apologizing for shit” he knew he wasn’t sorry for.

Lawrence insists he was being genuine. Tasha: “You’re a fuck nigga. You’re worse than a fuck nigga. You’re a fuck nigga who thinks he’s a good dude.” And she hangs up. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the cultural conundrum facing all of us in this new technologically advanced hook up landscape we are all attempting to navigate. I don’t know how it used to be before Swiper Not Swiping and casual sex became the rule, not the exception, but I also find that men are preoccupied with being “good guys” in a way that belies their shitty behavior; some kind of veneer of honesty and distance that doesn’t quite square with the level of intimacy and acquiescence they are seeking from their partners. Maybe back in the day it was understood you couldn’t get that level of commitment without expressly acknowledging it; I find these days men think they get to have their cake and eat it too on this issue.

Anyway, look at this shit:

Bitch, what are you wearing? Those 1980s Jessie Spano mom jeans. Her name is “Arpana” which leads me to believe she’s supposed to be Indian, but I think in real life her body type would indicate she is something else. She’s probably Latina tbh. (And no I’m not going to google this to find out.) Anyway, Lawrence is laughing off his conversation with Tasha well enough as he rejoins the party.

Back at the Dunes, Issa is sneaking out of Mickey’s apartment. She isn’t quiet enough and he wakes up, offering for her to sleep over. Super generous considering she lives literally right upstairs. As Issa grabs her phone to go, she decides she isn’t actually willing to sacrifice her phone charger for this farce, so she snatches it up too. But not to fear: it turns out Mickey was aware of her ruse the entire time, as his phone has been sitting plugged into his own not-missing charger the whole time. Issa can’t even be mad as she lets out a chuckle and goes. She seems pleased, at least, with this first foray into “honess.”

[nofomoartworld]

Hyperallergic: An Artist Invites Viewers to Become Like the Animals to Understand the Animals

From Deke Weaver, “The Unreliable Bestiary: Bear” (2016): Ranger Joe with mask of polar bear expert Malcolm Ramsay; polar bear (all photos by the author for Hyperallergic)

CHICAGO, Illinois — This fall we learned once again that “all politics is local,” as Tip O’Neill famously said. All the theories and polling and arguments for the greater good paled in influence on voters compared to the circumstances of their daily lives, their immediate relationships, and the “call of stories” that fuel “the moral imagination,” as psychiatrist Robert Coles wrote a quarter of a century ago. Artists have been telling us all of this for at least two decades, with a swell of local performance and art scenes burgeoning across the globe. No one can be everywhere or see everything, and the internet has made us all aware of how much is going on that we’re missing. Even among the viewers of a single work, “there’s not one vantage point that should be seen or a unique point of perception,” as Christo explained in a 1983 interview.

This abundance and diversity makes the conversation richer, with more outstanding artists in more places than ever. But there are more audiences too, and people in downstate Illinois need outstanding works of art just as much as anyone. They’re getting them with — among other works — an exciting series of multimedia performances by Deke Weaver in and around the University of Illinois. On December 22nd, Weaver released the first online video for Part Two of his current “Bear” project. Five more of these one-minute teasers are going up on the “BEAR” page of The Unreliable Bestiary each week in January. Weaver will use geocaching to draw viewers into area parks to find clues that will lead them to surprising discoveries. The videos anticipate a culmination in stories and videos at a nightly performance that will run February 16 to 25 at the Station Theatre in Urbana. Will the videos capture field sightings of local bears? Will they reveal steps on a path of discovery in the AMK Habitat Corridor? We don’t yet know. But we do know what has happened so far in Part One.

It was dark as we headed from the parking lot toward the gateway to the AMK wilderness corridor. Three uniformed “park rangers” met us. They arranged the small group of 12 and then, lit by a bright camp lantern on the ground, two of the rangers faced us, with a large painted cutout of a polar bear behind them. Off to the side, a wooden wall crudely portrayed the U.S. National Soccer Team with cutouts for us to put our faces in, like a carnival concession for our souvenir photo. After taking a group picture, we set off into the damp, dark woods. It reminded me of Boy Scout camp in the more innocent world of 50 years ago.

Deke Weaver’s immersive, magical performance “Bear” began in front of these rudimentary signboards, as we listened to prerecorded stories on an eco-friendly hand-cranked voice recorder that one of the rangers held up before us. Like Wes Anderson’s The Grand Budapest Hotel, the artificiality of the sets stood out deliberately. Over the tinny speaker, Weaver told us about different species of bears and the impending decline of our global eco-structure. The rangers held up signs on stakes; one of the extended texts read:

Greenland slides into the Atlantic. The power grid collapses on August 4th, 2017. The Totten Glacier and West Antarctica break off into the sea. Sea levels rise 12 feet, and now, 2020, we’ve got 40 percent of the world’s human population leaving the coasts and headed inland.

Like stories told around a campfire, Weaver described an Eskimo approached by a polar bear, who sniffed him up and down, breathing into his face as he lay motionless on the ground, and about the Eskimo’s companion who didn’t play dead and was eaten. We heard about polar bears breaching, like whales, rising eight feet out of the water, about polar bears running at 40 miles an hour, about a polar bear that swam 200 miles without stopping. The 12 of us together, we learned, weighed less than one large polar bear. Along our journey into the woods, at six stations (one for each of the six months of hibernation), we heard recordings about other species of bears. After learning about the black bears of the southeastern United States, who make their dens 60 to 90 feet above the ground in the trunks of hollow trees, we looked up to see one sleeping, gently breathing (by a remote-controlled motor) among the branches by a clearing.

Weaver’s “Bear” belongs to The Unreliable Bestiary, an ongoing series, with each installment about a different endangered species, corresponding to a different letter of the alphabet. The imagined AMK (Allerton-Meadowbrook-Kickapoo) habitat alludes to the Yellowstone to Yukon Conservation Initiative (Y2Y), a real corridor created to bring grizzly bears back to the Rockies. Weaver began his series with “Monkey” (2009), then moved on to “Elephant” (2010), “Wolf” (2013), and now the first of the three parts of “Bear.” As the artist describes the project, “Inspired by the literary concept of the unreliable narrator and the medieval bestiary, which gave every living thing a spiritual purpose, The Unreliable Bestiary is an ark of stories about animals, our relationships with them, and the worlds they inhabit.”

From Deke Weaver, “The Unreliable Bestiary: Elephant” (September 2010): Narrator with four baby elephants learning to play with soccer balls

Weaver has created a video for each of the projects, rich with stories and clips of the performances. Yet the experience of being there is unforgettable — and being there is the point. The feeling of trudging through the park in the dark of night, with the tall grasses brushing your face, the sounds of rustling in the woods, and the sensation of stepping along uneven, muddy, invisible paths all made the fantasy world of “Bear” palpably real. We were in it.

Half a mile into the woods, we came upon three dancers costumed as bears who came right up to our faces, sniffing and breathing like the polar bear with that hapless Eskimo. We huffed and puffed in rhythm with them, held hands as we encircled them, and then walked off, single-file, into the darkness. Touching each other was important. At the end we all took off our shoes and crawled into the confined space of a bear den, where we huddled together, wearing bear masks and listening to Weaver — looking “grizzly” with a six-month growth of beard — tell the story of a man slogging through his quotidian existence until one day he slowly began a metamorphosis into a bear.

From Deke Weaver, “The Unreliable Bestiary: Elephant” (2010): Elephant Weaver being interviewed as Jojo the elephant, Stock Pavilion, UofI, Urbana IL

The Unreliable Bestiary evolved around these interwoven stories, illustrated with beautiful videos of animals and habitats, maps, researched data, and costumed dancers in barn-like interior spaces and out “in the wild.” Weaver, his choreographer wife Jennifer Allen, and their troupe of collaborators performed “Monkey” in an experimental theater space. They staged “Elephant” in a stock pavilion with bundles of hay and bleachers around a large dirt-floored livestock arena, and during the show, a life-size, impressive but intentionally unrealistic elephant puppet walked into the space. We heard about the trip that Weaver and Allen had taken to a school for mahouts (elephant handlers) in Thailand, and this adventure wove in and out of the tale of Hero, a circus elephant the townsfolk of Elkton, South Dakota, shot to death during a snowstorm on May 15, 1916. The sounds of clinking leg chains, elephant cries and trumpets, and music composed and blended by Chris Peck haunted “Elephant” and transported the audience into the stories. The choreography of “baby elephants” learning to play with soccer balls heightened our empathy. Weaver told us about the real adventure of learning to ride an elephant from a mahout and of Anastasia, an old lady in Elkton who remembered the death of Hero. Costumed as Jojo, another circus elephant whose attempted escape likewise ended in disaster, Weaver took an interview on a TV talk show.

For “Wolf,” visitors boarded a tour bus in the city and watched “informational” videos while uniformed “rangers” prepared us for our hike into a woodland park where we encountered “wolves.” A wolf (costumed by Susan Becker) ran past the group on the path, wolves were spotted chasing Little Red Riding Hood in the distance, and later we came upon the remains of her basket and cape. The trek ended in a dimly lit barn with eerie sounds and “wolves” wandering among the audience as Weaver gave a nature talk with real data, and, as the artist described it, “unsettling, decidedly non-scientific details, shifting from the every-day towards a waking-spirit-world.”

Deke Weaver, “The Unreliable Bestiary: Wolf” (2013): Ranger Dave examines a foul-smelling wolf on a log, Allerton Park, Piatt County, IL

Deke Weaver, “The Unreliable Bestiary: Wolf” (2013): wolves in the field, Allerton Park, Piatt County, IL

The performances in The Unreliable Bestiary rely in part on the physical involvement of the small groups of viewers. You squeeze into cramped dens, sit on hard bleachers, and walk through puddles and shrubbery, swatting mosquitoes in the dark. The environment is literally in your face, and that opens you up to the experience on a physical level, to a reimagining of the world and your place within it in a fresh way. In the micro-urban setting around the University of Illinois, these events have taken on legendary status, like the performances of Calder’s Circus in 1920s Paris. Urbana isn’t Paris — although, of course, that Paris doesn’t exist anymore either. The “center” moved to New York around 1940, but after 1970, that New York disappeared too. Now the center is wherever you happen to be. That’s part of what’s new about the art world of the 21st century and about this body of work. The internet, travel, and the diffusion of information and images has made it possible to engage with the art world from anywhere, while also making the world seem oddly disembodied, even if you’re in Brooklyn. In The Philosophy of Andy Warhol, Warhol observed that “people sometimes say that the way things happen in the movies is unreal, but actually, it’s the way things happen to you in life that’s unreal.” The brilliance of Weaver’s performances is that they assert a palpable awareness of being in the world just when “the world” most feels like something on TV.

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