#muse mail. gin

[voxvulgi]

Gin: breathplay

Send my muse a 🕯KINK⛓ and they’ll rate it!

not today satan | fuck no | no thanks | eeeh | not sure | I’d give it a shot | sure why not | omfg yes | there go my pants | holy fuck take me now

"I...keep a gun under my pillow. Do I strike you as the kind of person who would fancy being asphyxiated in my most vulnerable state?"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

She [7]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series)

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: The reader finds herself busy.

Note: I have these chapters done so I’ll keep posting till the end.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Reader

You met with Rashida at the beginning of the next week. Only three days after your last encounter. Since then, you’d found yourself watching over your shoulder. As you left your building, walked to the station, passed through the broad doors of the tall tower where Motley’s offices resided... You were overly alert and entirely uncertain. 

Yet you didn’t see anything more than before. The man in the hoodie didn’t catch your eye and in a subway car full of the same dark sweaters, how would you even pick him out? You felt hopeless. Maybe he stopped. Maybe it was one of Fury’s men keeping tabs on you. Maybe he hadn’t been following you at all.

You shook away all those questions as you hit the buzzer and waited for the crackly speaker. Rashida was quick to let you up and welcomed you into an apartment as small as your own. The space was a cluster of children’s toys and mismatched furniture. You sat at the round table as she offered you something to drink. She brought you a glass of water and sat across from you.

“Maya’s at school til three,” She said as she leaned an arm on the table. “I’d rather she not be here.”

“I understand,” You took out your notebook. “Do you mind if I record this?”

She rubbed two fingers along the plastic tablecloth. “Recorded?”

“For me only. The audio won’t be released. And as before, this will all be on record until you say it’s not.” You coaxed. “We stop when you say.”

“Sure,” She nodded. “I do have a real job, you know. I work breakfast down at this diner.” She pointed at the window. “It’s just not cutting it.”

You set your phone down and hit the red button and took your pen.

“Do most of the women have other jobs?” You asked.

“Most, if not all. Some of them only come around when they finish down at the strip joints,” She leaned back, a little more relaxed. “I… Selene said she’d talk to you. If you wanted. I just don’t know how much she’ll talk. She still hasn’t told me everything.”

“Really?” Your lashes fluttered in excitement. “Yeah, anything she has-- Any other girls you know, I could use anything.”

She exhaled and ran her thumb along her middle finger.

“I wanna help them, you know? Not just me. Because I’m just one of a lot. A lot.” She shook her head. “And they get younger and younger. Used to be I worried about protecting the young ones, now we’re all just thinking about ourselves.”

��I heard about Saturday,” You said. “You know her?”

“No, but I found her. Arm broke, face cut,” Her fingers closed to a fist. “She fought him and he fought back but now she’s marked. Forever.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to redirect for a little bit.” You said gently. “I don’t want you to think about the attacks. I want to know about you. Tell me about your first night there.”

She squinted. “Why?”

“Because...you matter. And if people see that you’re human, that’s how they’ll see all the rest.” You shifted in your seat. “It won’t just be numbers printed beside some add for dry cleaning. It will be people.”

She thought and swallowed. She pressed her lips together.

“It was only supposed to be the one night,” She began. “Just needed to make up the last of the rent…”

🖋️

Poppy sat in her usual spot. Her desk was her throne and you were all just her subjects. He ashy hair was pinned up so only a single curl framed her face. Her structured blouse was a rich fuschia and the bow was much too big and tacky. You looked down at your tweed jacket with the three-quarter sleeves and a moment of doubt took you. You didn’t belong here with her.

You took a breath and approached her office. You knocked on the transparent door and she didn’t look up. She flicked two fingers for you to enter as she kept her eyes on the tablet propped up against her desk.

“What is it?” She asked, still scrolling through the black text.

“I’m… supposed to give you my pitch,” You looked at the clock above her head. “It’s noon.”

“Go on then,” She still didn’t look at you.

You glanced at the chair but didn’t sit. You hated the cold, hard seat. You neared her desk and laid down your single sheet. 

“In the last four months, there has been a string of assaults on a block which hosts a slew of prostitutes. The women who have been attacked all bear the same scars; from hairline to chin.” You said evenly. “I intend to write about these women who work there and get their stories and what is being done, or not being done, by the police.”

She slowly looked up through her half-moon glasses. She let the tablet lay flat and sat back in the tall white leather chair.

“Prostitutes? You mean the most common victims of assault? Hardly revolutionary reporting.” She sniffed.

“Think about it. Each woman who has been attacked in this manner has survived but she has been marked. It’s like… Jack the Ripper. He’s circling the block. Don’t you think one day he’ll get bored of just a slice? Saturday, a girl’s arm was broken too. It’s the first major injury beside the cuts.” You slid your printed pitch closer to her. “It’s only a matter of time before this is the new Whitechapel.”

She lifted a brow and reached to take the paper. Her eyes glossed over the text and she looked up at you again.

“This really what you wanna do?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’ve already have interviews lined up.” You assured her. “I think this could be good. It might even help stop these assaults before they cross that line.”

She chuckled and shook her head.

“We’ll see,” She set the page down. “I hope you don’t miss the mail room that bad.”

You withheld a frown and left her as she shooed you with her hand. Her confidence was disheartening. You wondered if maybe you’d taken a wild misstep. If perhaps you had gotten ahead of yourself. 

You sat at your desk and grabbed your phone. You took the folded paper beneath it; the list of names and numbers Rashida had given you the day before. Well, you had to make your shot and if you missed, it could be fatal.

🖋️

You spent the rest of your day calling the women and trying to arrange further interviews. Selene, though she sounded nervous, agreed and only one other; Tess. It was a start and a better one than you expected. Then you put in your earbuds and listened to the recording of your second meeting with Rashida. You transcribed diligently as you tuned out those around you.

You were spooked by a tap on your shoulder. You tore out your ear bud and glanced at Essie. She smiled as you closed out your work and turned to her. She had her Barbie pink purse on her elbow and her phone in her other hand. It must have been later than you thought.

“Hey, Rima and I are going for a drink. We were wondering if you wanted to come. It’s been a while.” She smiled.

Essie had started at the same time as you; she, an intern as you were relegated to the mail room. Still, you shared a sense of comradery as she had been a constant in your time at Motley. You peeked back at your screen and checked the time in the corner. You shrugged. There wasn’t much else you could do that night.

“I could do a drink.” You stood. “I heard you were doing a piece on some new designer?”

“Yeah,” She chimed proudly as you shut off your computer and grabbed your purse. “I’m hoping it can get me an interview at Elle or Vogue. You know this place isn’t really the height of fashion.”

“No, not at all,” You chuckled. “Surprising, given Poppy’s wardrobe.”

“The devil wears fake prada,” Essie snorted. A taller woman appeared at her side; Rima’s sharp bob highlighted the angles of her jaw.

“Hey,” Rima said as she pouted, her lips smooth beneath a coat of dark lipstick. “We aren’t going to that horrible Pop place again. Those lights give me a headache.”

“It was called Bubble and you didn't mind so much after that shot of tequila.” Essie chided.

“No tequila for me,” You intoned. “I’ve got an interview tomorrow.”

“We’ll see,” Essie said coyly.

You shook your head and even Rima’s dour sneer cracked.

“No dancing,” Rima declared. “It’s not even Friday yet.”

“Then you’ll owe me on Friday,” Essie countered as she led the way between desks. “And a shot.”

🖋️

You sipped your gin slowly. You didn’t need a hangover on top of everything else and you weren’t really in the mood for alcohol. Or the chatty New York barroom. As always, you regretted your inclination to be social. You’d rather be at home, hypnotized by a screen as you tried to decide what to order on your pizza.

You didn’t talk much, you didn’t really care about the new pop star or onset romance. Rima barely seemed to stomach it herself but indulged Essie in her tabloid dreams. The night wore on as you found your glass empty and hid it behind your arm as you smiled. You were eager to find an excuse to leave before midnight.

“Ugh, I gotta break the seal,” Essie whined. “Damn.”

“Too bad,” Rima said dryly. “Don’t fall in.”

“Wow, love you too,” She huffed. “I thought this was a girls’ night.”

“You’re a big girl. You can handle it.” Rima teased. “I’m comfortable right here.”

Essie frowned and looked at you. You shrugged. You had been avoiding the smelly bathrooms. She spun around sharply and marched away in defeat. It was quiet for a moment, then Rima’s voice pierced through those around you.

“I read your article. On Captain America,” She said. “Very… interesting. I hear he’s been in hiding.”

“Oh?” You blinked at her. “I haven’t really… been paying attention. Gotta keep up with my new story.”

“New story?” She mused. “You mean… everyone in town is talking about Steve Rogers and you have the scoop and you’re just going to toss it away.”

“What scoop?” You asked.

“Well, what happened off the record?” She snickered. “We are all so curious and our imaginations do get the best of us.”

“It was… I just left,” You said. “Really. It wasn’t that… dramatic.”

“Oh, but we all got a taste of that temper. You must’ve been terrified.” She prodded. “Weren’t you? A man that big--”

“Why are you so curious?” You wondered.

“Just… am.” She grabbed her drink and you glimpsed her phone behind her forearm. She drank and you saw the familiar red dot and ticking timer. “You were right. Those avengers, they need--”

“Are you recording me?” You asked. “What the fuck, Rima?”

“What, oh no?” She looked down. “I must have hit it by accident.”

“Bull shit.” You pushed away your empty glass. “I should’ve… I should go. I have a lot to do tomorrow.”

“Really, it wasn’t--”

“Save it. You can find your own story. I’m not it.” You hissed and saw Essie emerge from the bathrooms. You grabbed your purse and stormed over to her. “I’ll see you at the office.”

“What? Wait? Where are you going?”

“Home. I’m too old for this place,” You stopped on your heel. “Have fun.”

🖋️

The next day, you chose to forego your check-in at the office. Your pitch was approved, you’d sent your transcription to the cloud, and you weren’t so eager to see Rima again. You would see Selene at noon and hunker down back at your apartment, hopefully with even more to work with.

You left at ten. Enough time to stop and grab a bite between transfers. At midtown, you got a bagel and tea and sat in the cafe that smelled of cinnamon and beans. You spread the cream cheese and the door opened and closed. The line was growing longer and longer and you thanked your luck at getting ahead of it.

As you bit into your bagel and a seed stuck to your lip, you were surprised by an unexpected figure before you. You looked up and nearly choked. Steve Rogers wore a navy tee and jeans; much more casual than the captain presented to the world. You grabbed a napkin and covered your mouth as you chewed and swallowed.

“Steve?” You blinked.

“Hey, I know this is…” He looked around. “Weird. I was just coming in to grab a smoothie and I didn’t think it was you.”

“Oh?” You looked at the green drink in his hand. “Yeah, uh, coincidence.”

“Well, I’ve had to kinda change things up lately. Not gonna lie, I had to outrun a man with a camera a few blocks back.” He raised his brow in exasperation.

“Look, what has happened, the reaction, it’s not what I meant--” You found it hard to speak. You imagined your last week and a half had been much easier than his; even with all the chaos. “I was trying to show that you were more than a shield. That you weren’t just the righteous war hero and I guess…”

“Do you mind if I sit?” He asked. “Just for a second.”

“Uh, yeah,” You said hesitantly. You folded the wrapper over the bagel as he took the chair across from you.

“I got angry. That’s on me.” He said and paused to sip his smoothie. “And you’re right, I’m not perfect. I think the world should see that. I’d… like to do another interview.”

“Steve, look, I understand what you’re trying to do but it’s already out there. It can’t be taken back, people have already decided on what they think. I’m sorry but I can’t undo it.” You said.

“I know,” He was on the edge of his chair. “I’m not looking to clear anything up, I know that can’t be done. I just want a second chance. To paint a clearer, fuller picture of myself.”

“I… I’m real sorry but I’m in the middle of something else and I just think it might be too soon for all that.” You rubbed your neck. “Steve, I really am sorry about how it turned out.”

“For me then. You don’t have to promise a story. If you think it’s garbage, toss it.” He pleaded. “But I’d just like to do it for me. For closure. And if it ends up on the newsstand, all the better. If not, well, I know I tried to fix things.”

“I… guess I could… it would have to be tomorrow at the soonest. I have another interview this afternoon and I’d have to prepare.” You explained.

“Tomorrow,” He nodded and stood. “Perfect.”

“Alright. Does one o’clock work?” You asked.

“It works. Um, come in the back?” He said as a wrinkle deepened in his forehead. “There’s a bit of an issue with the front door. It’s a bit crowded.”

“Ah,” You nodded, “Right.”

“If you’re coming from the subway, you want to turn down the little bike path off the street before. There’s a red ornament on my gate, a little star.”

“Alright. I’ll see ya then.” You tried to smile but found it hard.

“Oh, and…” He grabbed his cup. “I’m sorry too. I wasn’t very nice and I knew you’d ask questions. It’s your job. I’m better than that.”

“It’s really nothing. I’ve dealt with worse.” You assured him.

“Okay. Tomorrow.” He tapped the table top. “Thanks for letting me interrupt your breakfast.”

You watched him go and he passed the window without another glance. There was a pit in your stomach. A sudden guilt. You’d caused him so much trouble and you’d been so concerned with yourself. So bad he was practically begging to talk. 

You had completely misjudged him. He wasn’t an angry man, he was only human. He made mistakes like everyone else. He should, at least, be allowed that one flaw.

[prodicalmenace]

chuuya with the confessing feelings kissing prompt if you wouldn’t mind :)

again a big big thanks for this request because it jumped me back into working on my sleep and weep update and helped me finish planning out the next few chapters. i send you soO much love and “good vibes” as the kids call them

;;

The popping sounds of oil distance themselves from children who yell on the streets at passing cards and neighbors arguing. You feel your nostrils widen when its smell hits you, the sear of meat too close to be floating from the outdoors and preparing your mouth to salivate. It’s breakfast time, hinted by the incoming sunlight that pokes at you through your blanket and the wafting smell of pig in the air. Bacon.

You yawn, and when your mouth is done your lips settle into a smile picturing the wonderful breakfast being prepared and ready to jump out of bed before a heaviness hits you keeping your feet dangling at the edge. It’s all in your head, like a bad sinus infection, but the sickness that makes its way down from your head to your stomach reminds you that it’s no common cold thats keeping you in bed. Though hangovers are just as common they come with more regret and upchuck of bile, which only leads to more regret.

You groan, but you can’t deny yourself the healing power of bacon by scent alone and soon shuffle your way out of your bedroom and to your kitchen bracing yourself against the wall. You hear hums getting closer as you do and witness flashes of colors from windows, photo glares, and soon a figure in your kitchen.

Clad in white the ember haired chef seems to thrive in the silence flipping and whipping all sorts of goods between pans and plates. Chuuya’s kindness had always made your heart flutter, but seeing it now like some sort of angel in your kitchen all and only for you nearly made you melt.

If only you could remember why he was there in the first place.

“You really shouldn’t be standing,” he speaks up from his place by the stove, and it’s the first you realize he’s looking at you if it was for long.

“That’s an understatement,” You fake a cough shuffling to a lone seat at your counter, hands absentmindedly swatting away the mess of loose mail and work folders alike as though you can make up for the fact that you definitely don’t look put together. Drinking with the Black Lizard would set you back by a day but it wasn’t like you couldn’t handle it on your own, so why oh why was Chuuya in your kitchen while you’re still wearing yesterdays clothes?

“Whats the last thing you remember?” he asks on cue, and you feel heat rise in your cheeks as you begin to fall red in embarrassment at his ability to read you.

You busy your eyes with a water stain on your wall. “Tachihara broke a table, a few of Gin’s men started to fight each other, too many shitty shochu cocktails,” each falls further into a mumble as the memories become disconnected scenes of a movie.

With his back still facing you, Chuuya laughs. “Even if they were shitty they did the job. Check your elbow.”

Your eyes widen at the command and you pull back the sleeves of your shirt to follow. Against your skin lies a disgusting green oval spreading from the crease of your elbow to the middle of your bicep, red blood vessels at the edges like they still haven’t healed.

“So, correction: you and Tachihara broke a table when you were fighting Gin’s men,” you’re sure you look a fully ripe tomato as you drop your head in your hands completely missing the grin on his face when Chuuya turns to drop the finished bacon on the place in front of you. “Lucky for you the barkeep is an informant of mine, he called me the moment you threw the first punch.”

Yes, that sounded like you, the crazy boozed up you you did your best to act like didn’t exist on the clock.

You drop your hands and stare at the perfectly crafted plate in front of you, a hearty all American breakfast made in the shape of a smile. Who knows what crazy things you said or may have tried in the midst of his plight to get you home. All day you work to impress him and to earn his respect and remind him you exist but this is what gets him in your home, taking care of you, smiling at you, giving you heart palpitations before noon? For years you’ve had this childish crush on the executive sticking to you like properly functioning sticky-tack yet you managed to never let it interfere with your personal life. You were adults now and you worked great together, there was no need to say or try anything especially when you both lived and worked at opposite ends of the mafia lifestyle.

Chuuya’s smile drops when too many seconds past and you still don’t pick at your food, eyes instead just staring at the plate like the order was all wrong. “Are you feeling okay?” the concern is in the way his voice loses his bite, and the three creases that appear at his brow with the bite at the inside of his lip.

Your lips quiver before you respond with a loose “No!” and before you know it he’s move to your side of the counter, one glove already off as he attempts to bring a hand to your forehead before you swat it away with a short “stop that!”. At the action his eyebrow raises, and the sickness that was already in your stomach does a backflip.

“It’s just—! I just—! Agh, this is so embarrassing,” you feel like you’re yelling but your words blend between one another just above a whisper.

“Don’t be embarrassed, this happens with subordinates more than you think, it’s our fault for making the bars around here water their drinks down—,”

“No, Chuuya, it’s not embarrassing because I work for you it’s embarrassing because I’m in love with you!”

Your arms are waving in the air when you blurt out this statement, but soon they drop as you suck in a breath.

“No, it’s not that I’m in love with you,” he stares at you blankly, that wasn’t good. “I mean I really really like you and have the capacity to fall in love with you,” this isn’t better.

You’re close to forming a viable excuse mid stutters before it happens and all breath is lost. The hand without a glove rests cooly at your neck as he tilts your head up and gently presses his lips against yours. They’re smooth, like his hand, and warm from standing by the stove so long that it makes your eyes close at the sheer comfort. He smells like breakfast, or maybe thats the plate right in front of you, and when you seem to sign against him you feel the edges of his lips curl into a smile against yours.

And then he pulls away.

“Eat your bacon.” he plants another kiss at your forehead before making his way back into the kitchen putting the pots from the stove into the sink like nothing happened.

What?

“Just eat, it’ll make you feel better,” he muses from the sink, doing your dishes, angelic domesticity glowing in your own home.

You blink again and turn to the smiley face plate in front of you, and like a good little mafioso you comply with your executives orders.

[wowfan-me]

1.3 - GOTHIC EXOTICS

Music: LAST DROP FALLS || Sonata Arctica

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A little earlier...

Life just sucked!

At least, it did for Becky.

This was meant to have been a weekend away with her 'significant other' but, that had all turned to shit five days before.

Eight months ago he had persuaded her to go to the Goth Weekend with him. His thinking was it could be an exciting little change from their usual kind of music venue. Both concert and festival devotees, the majority they had attended had always been enjoyable although sometimes - well... they seemed a little lacklustre.

So, confessing to a fondness for all things 'dark and mysterious' he had badgered her until she'd finally given in. "It'll be fun," he'd said. She'd agreed on a condition though; she would choose the hotel, the costumes, everything. His idea of appropriate accommodation had often left her bereft of words. He'd shrugged and told her to 'go for it'.

Once she'd started looking at the huge selection of Victorian, steampunk and gothic costumes online, she'd started to quite enjoy the thought of dressing up. Pictures of past festivals with the revellers all parading around in some truly extravagant and wonderful costumes started to have a certain appeal. So much so in fact, she nearly blew an entire month's salary on all they would require from travel to accommodation and the epic outfits themselves.

Costumes ordered, she'd checked her mail every day hoping the courier would deliver sooner rather than later. Even with the text message advising her delivery would be on the 21st - (48 hours away, then), she'd still paced the floor until it had arrived - a day early!

She'd eagerly opened the box and checked the contents, making sure everything was present and correct. She just had to show Michael and so she'd jumped into her car and drove over to his place.

Holding the rather heavy box precariously in the crook of her left arm, she'd slotted the key into Michael's front door. She couldn't wait to see him in the costume, he would look so good!

Her happiness took a nose-dive when she'd found him on the couch, jeans around ankles and some naked harlot grinding away on his lap. Becky dropped the box of goodies. It landed with a dull thud.

Michael's reaction was one she would never forget. "Fuck! I forgot you had a key!"

"F-forgot?" Her voice was preternaturally calm.

Whether that unnerved him or not she would never truly know but he did seem to turn a shade or two paler. Pushing the female off his lap - causing her to land unceremoniously on the laminate floor - Michael reached down to pull up his jeans.

Inside, Becky was shocked - then noticeably fuming; raging even! But more than that, she was irrevocably humiliated and hurt. An eerie combination of emotions it turned out to be, for her calm demeanour persevered. "Oh, don't stop on my account," she'd said, eyeing the girl on the floor who was picking up her clothes and trying to dress. "He's all yours."

She'd turned to leave as the sting of tears started to nip.

"Becky! I can explain!" Michael pleaded.

She'd stopped and an uncontrollable need to strike back gripped her. She wasn't the physical type of vigilante though; no, she delivered her deathblows with words. Sometimes, they were downright lies - and in this case, utterly necessary for her to ruin his life as he had just killed hers.

She spun round and with only the briefest of glances in his direction, she let her eyes rest on the semi-clad girl. "Here's a little head's up for you, sweetie. I stopped fucking him over a month ago because we needed to wait until his antibiotics and creams kicked in - again! You're not the first, you won't be the last, but you know what? I'm sure as fuck relieved he won't ever make my crack itch again! Enjoy!" She'd fought a trembling smirk, watching the girl's face harden as she turned incensed eyes to the Lothario.

"Wh -what?" Michael gasped. "She's lying!" He'd begged for the furious fuck-buddy to believe him but she was having none of it. Grabbing the last of her clothes she'd stormed past him and the spookily calm Becky.

Now, subconsciously licking emotional wounds like a cat would clean its fur, she sat outside a harbour-side pub in the Yorkshire town of Whitby, drinking a long gin and tonic. Quite why she still chose to come to the festival was a mystery. She supposed it was pointless not attending, considering she had paid for it all. She even brought the costume she had bought for Michael - another enigma! What the hell was she hoping to do with that?

Watching all the vampires, ghouls, werewolves and other gothic exotics a tiny part of her wondered what it would be like to be such a creature. To look at the world through ageless eyes. To never fear a heart being broken, for it couldn't beat nor feel a betrayal of one once trusted. She scoffed, chastising her idiotic, self-piteous musings.

She took another slug of her drink, her eyes lazily roaming over the punters who meandered along the front, chatting, laughing, embracing the theatrical weekend in its entirety.

And there she sat. Alone. Pathetic. Hating the world, her life, her job. Detesting men.

Then, just across the road standing in front of metal railings, a figure caught her eye. Tall, with long dark hair, dressed similarly to many of the town's visitors stood a man who arrested her attention. His eyes seemed to reflect every spark of light in the vicinity and if she was not mistaken he appeared to be searching for someone.

"Look not upon him, for he is marked," a voice whispered in her ear. Startled, she felt her glass slip from her fingers as she spun to see who had spoken. She could not identify the culprit. Had she imagined it? she wondered. Perhaps she had simply been caught up in the moment; seduced by the atmospheric town. She shook her head. Flights of fancy again.

Turning her attention back to the front, she saw her glass had landed upright on the table. A few punters to her left had turned on hearing the sound of glass hitting the metallic surface but they soon resumed their conversations when they realised there was no drama.

Becky felt a little foolish and a hot flush rose from her neck. She looked over to where the mysterious man had stood but moments before. He was gone. Strangely, she felt disappointed.

Picking up her bag and jacket, she thought perhaps she should retire to her accommodation and ready herself for the rest of the night's entertainment. It would probably take her about an hour by the time she painted her face and squeezed into the costume, but she'd decided she was damned if she was going to let her good money go to waste.

She inched her way out between the seats and started up the small hill towards the Waverley Guest House on Crescent Avenue.

A pair of piercing eyes watched her as she left. Sliding the chair out on which she'd sat, the stranger took her place. Calloused fingers dipped in the small bowl of nuts on the table and he popped one in his mouth, laughing quietly to himself. Once more he'd been distracted by a pretty face; one of his flaws. Someone would be a little disappointed in him - again!  With a resigned sigh, he returned his attention to the crowds.

Cain seemed to outwit him quite frequently - for all he was unaware that someone watched him. Remarkable and a little frustrating.

He would find him again though. He always did.

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[savards]

TASK 004 - "a fun and interesting fact about me is that i’m a fucking idiot”

FULL GIVEN NAME — marco vincent savard

NICKNAMES & WHO CALLS THEM THESE — pingüino ( his mother ), savage ( high school hockey teammates )

AGE & D.O.B — twenty-three & december fourth

PLACE OF BIRTH — moose jaw, canada

TOWNS THEY’VE LIVED IN AND FOR HOW LONG — moose jaw, canada ( eighteen years ) & rochester, ny ( five years )

GUARDIANS NAMES & LOCATIONS —  basile and ramira savard ( moose jaw, canada )

SIBLING NAMES, AGES & LOCATIONS — n/a

WATERSHED.APP STATUS — sheep

DO THEY HAVE ANYTHING QUESTIONABLE ONLINE? — there are nudes of himself that he shared with previous partners/hookups, as well as a few videos of him in possession of and interacting with a significant amount of weed ( both likely are just on the cloud for right now )

BANK ACCOUNT BALANCE —  $2,093.49

DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE ANY CREDIT CARDS? HOW MANY? DO THEY HAVE A BALANCE AND LIMIT? OF HOW MUCH? — one credit card that is used mostly for emergencies with a limit of $500 & one debit card with a limit of $300

CRIMINAL RECORD — n/a

HOSPITAL & MEDICAL VISITS / RECORD — dislocated shoulder ( eighth grade ), first concussion ( junior year of high school ), ankle sprain ( sophmore year of college ), second concussion ( first senior year of college )

PRESCRIBED MEDICATIONS — n/a

DO THEY USE ILLICIT DRUGS? — n/a

DO THEY DRINK ALCOHOL? — yes, mostly cheap beer but he’s not too biased. the only thing he won’t touch is gin.

DO THEY SMOKE WEED AND/OR CIGARETTES? — yes to weed, and quite often. no to cigarettes.

SUBSCRIPTIONS THEY HAVE — netflix, spotify, and sports illustrated ( which still gets mailed to his parents’ house )

FAVORITE BOOKS — marco has mostly sparknotes his way through high school and college, but he loved the magic treehouse series growing up, specifically pirates past noon

FAVORITE FILMS — the mighty ducks, goon, bill and ted's excellent adventure, shrek, young frankenstein

FAVORITE MUSICIANS — queen, x ambassadors, journey, aerosmith, weezer

FAVORITE GAMES — fruit ninja, ballz, mario kart

PAST ROMANTIC / INTIMATE RELATIONSHIPS THAT MAY HAVE AN ONLINE PRESENCE —  azul monterrey ( ex-girlfriend ), saige beaumont ( hookup ), isla dubois ( crush / hookup )

MOST FREQUENTLY VISITED WEBSITES — nhl.com, youtube, twitter, espn, bleacher report, & google

DO THEY USE A VPN? — no, and i highly suspect marco wouldn’t know what one is either

WHAT SOCIAL MEDIA DO THEY HAVE? — twitter, snapchat, instagram, and facebook, though he only uses that rarely and for his mom’s sake.

ARE THEY ON ANY HOOK-UP OR DATING APPS? WHICH ONES? — tinder

[drunkenworgen]

Box meme with a live turkey.

Send 📦 + an object for my muse to react to getting that object as a present in the mail.

(Accepting!)

The box was gobbling.  Loudly, angrily.  Was this payback from Aren for the googly eyes?  Or the glitter?  Thank the gods she hadn’t sent the candy phalluses.  Who the fel sends a live turkey?  It wasn’t even close to Pilgrim’s Bounty.

“Oirigh’ kids, lil’ shit’s gonna be angry when ah let ‘im out, so ah need ya on th’table an’ away from it, yeah?”

“Okay, mumma,” Jon responded brightly as Rose was already scrambling to get onto the table.

Gin stood by the sofa, using one of her husband’s swords to open the package and free the bird.  “Coun’ o’ three, yeah?  One…two…THREE!”

The bird burst out of the box, wings flapping, feathers flying, and much louder gobbling.  It was utter chaos.  The dog and the wolves that were inside started barking and howling, chasing the bird around the tiny living room as Gin tried to direct them to the door and away from the twins.  Her yelling mixed with the various animal noises as she managed to get them out of the house and into the small field next to it.  That poor bird probably wasn’t going to survive, but at least she wouldn’t have to feed the wolves tonight.

“Who th’fuck sent me a Ligh’ damned turkey?”

( @ma-at-thought, @areniaagn for mentions )

[alotofwrittenwords]

🕯- My muse has lost someone very close to them, and they aren’t taking the pain of grief very well. aubs/matt.

ummm enjoy the novel that no one ordered. (that would be a good title for matt’s biography bye)

At this point, Matthew would give anything for one of his roommate’s witty remarks. He would ruin another Harry Potter marathon for her by discussing the proper use of an invisibility cloak if it meant he would hear her clever quips again. Hell, he’d dress up in a tutu for a(n un)forgettable performance of his personal favourite ballet ‘Ginselle’ if it would make her giggle instead of putting up that best fake smile. 

Although granted, Matt was just guessing what was different about her. Perhaps she was perfectly fine as she led on. He’d never seen Aubree deal with grief before, never had her pick up a white and black-rimmed envelope before from their mail stack and watch her go silent - so what did he know? Right?

Well, for starters, he knew he was selfish. Selfish enough to want his best friend back and not this hollowed out copy strutting around the apartment that was playing anything but sad music and avoided any sentence that didn’t have the word ‘party’ in it. Matthew knew there was more to Aubree than that and he weirdly wanted it back. So he did what any senseless man would do and engaged in the small talk that turned out to be a fucking trap set out for him.

All he had asked for was a cold one from the kitchen. But now he sat pinned in the hot seat, trapped from both sides by her beautiful legs. It’s almost as if she had perfect control of not only her body but the clothes on it because Matt could swear that every time he took a peek down between their bodies, her sweater dress had crept up just an inch higher.

“Any other day...” He trailed off, nodding while still clearly distracted by his roommate’s charm. He would do it. He would do her. “But this is not okay.” The words stunned himself more than they probably stunned her. But he’d pushed them out anyway. Matthew couldn’t care less whether she’d use him as some sort of emotional rebound. He couldn’t count all the times he’d used as a way to cope - to feel or to forget - on both hands so he would be the last person to judge or deny her that. It’s just that... Aubree was his friend. As one sometimes drunkenly even referred, his best friend. Knowing her for a few years now, he could tell something was simply off. So he wanted her to get off his lap or laugh at him when she made him out to be an idiot for even considering her feelings. Either would reassure him, really.

The brunette had always been the tougher one out of them both (even though that was one of Matthew’s favourite things to deny). Always ready to shake him out of any slump he’d ever suffered through, ready to not talk to him until he found his balls back or drag him out to his regular bar with the promise of introducing him to one of her girl friends if all else failed. She never took any pity on him because he always pitied himself enough for two. 

As poetic as it sounds, this time Matt’s gut told him it was the other way around. He would have to tell her to put down her shields and stop being so fucking tough for one moment. If she was anything like him, he knew asking for help didn’t seem like an option. There was the guilt, shame and feeling of not being worth it. So he couldn’t wait for her to ask him. He would just help her.

Though it felt risky, she was already climbing off his lap with an unphased eye roll so there wasn’t much time to think.

Friendship first, he encouraged himself in his head, bracing himself for the possible backfiring of what he was about to do. Surprisingly now that he did consider this one woman’s feelings, he realized he did not want to offend, insult nor hurt her. But being a friend takes a commitment. A willingness to take a risk for the best friendship he’d had in a lifetime.

Uncharacteristically gently, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. “Aubs, I’m going to do something... you might not like it but I think you need it nonetheless.” Matt swallowed as their eyes locked.

She seemed confused by how genuinely nervous he was and Matt knew he had to seize the opportunity to do this before her brain shifted back into its usual defensive, sarcastic mode. For once, he didn’t want this to be brushed off as a joke. Grabbing his warm hoodie from the couch’s backrest, he reached up to drape it around her and tried to cover her up a little. (The best he could for his first attempt at putting clothes on a woman instead of off.) She cocked an eyebrow. Her glossy lips twitching as if they were ready to burst out in husky giggles at his theatrics any second. But before she could ask ‘that’s it?’, he did it. 

He wrapped his arms around her petite frame and hugged her. Trying to keep her close and warm the best he could. “I won’t tell, you know?” Matt promised his friend. “You can cry and we’ll drink a bottle of wine for a change and no one has to ever know you have a heart.”

His attempt at a chuckle got stuck in his throat. The whole room suffocated his laughter. Their laughter. His eyes were screwed shut as he prepared himself for the worst and imagined her walking out on him, leaving him to be the inconsolable one tonight. But then the sweet flood of relief washed over him as she let her head rest on his chest and his whole body relaxed as she allowed his awkward embrace.

“Fuck, what can’t I cry, Matty?” She was trying while she whispered to him, he could tell. Probably hoping it would lift the guilt from her voice and drain the sadness from her system.

He sat back. Looking at her properly, he cupped her face in both of his hands and for a moment it must’ve looked like he was about to kiss her, which made him smile. “It’s because you got your make up done all pretty, love.”

It caught him off guard when she hugged him back and he knew this was a ‘forget or regret’ kind of situation but it felt nice. “Look I don’t have the real answers but no one does, really. Sometimes we lose something. And unless it’s a game of darts after doing three rounds of shots, it’s never fucking fair nor can it be forgotten about by sleeping it off with a hangover.” Matt knew. He’d been trying that for the last 12 years. “I think you just have to feel, whether that is sad or angry or indifferent. And you do it in a spot where you feel comfortable to do so. Like, right here. And if you think it’ll help, you can try to put it into words but that’s one you probably could’ve figured out yourself, am I right songwriter?” Without noticing, he’d started playing with the tips of her hair and thought of how fucking ironic it was that he was using his mum’s advice. One woman’s words to another were always more helpful, no? “Then each day, it’ll feel less like part of you is gone. Because you’ll have filled it up with other meaningful shit and you’ll be whole again.”

“What if I want to be whole right now?”

“Then you just gotta look at me and hopefully that image of your future scares you enough to actually handle your feelings well and realize that there’s more wrong with pretending to be whole than with being human.” He laughed half-heartedly. They’d pulled back during their talk, for which Matt was kinda glad since he was smelling under his armpits and was certain she could tell. And now there was a silence, keeping them both from saying that one thing they knew would make the other beam like the sun. It was a thanks from Aubs in his case. And with a sigh, he decided to just say out loud what it was in her case, “I guess you’ll always be the toughest out of us two, padfoot.”

[nelia-ponce-kianrie-ii]

This is a rp blog. The character I (@s-rolldown-s-fork ) play is Nelia Ponce O. Kianrie, my original character. I'll probably convince Z/hd to make a blog so she can roleplay as her character/s.

Edit: @emo-lvr is Z/hd

This is set in TVES (The Void Estate Series). All ooc things will be signed with -SR

Tagging system and possibly more info below (if I decided not to make that a separate post)

Important tags (imo)

Bird's eye view - 3rd person pov written from omniscient narrator's perspective

From the top floor - 1st or 3rd person pov but written from Nelia's perspective

My Darling - Gin

Homoerotic Metamour - Bell

Little One - Vic

The Circus - Politics & posts about other Nobles

Midnight Musings - Late night thoughts

Mail - letters other TVES rp blogs send

Leaving Letters - Letters from Nelia to other characters

The Cage - Vent tag

Dear Diary - Nelia's diary entries

Bird's eye view - 3rd pov written from omniscient narrator's perspective

From the top floor - 1st or 3rd pov but written from Nelia's perspective

Encore - Neliacore posts

[harlequinlaw]

Unwritten

She felt somewhat stupid…well really the more she thought about it the more stupid she felt. Yet, it had to have sounded good at some point, right? In fact, she had been just as excited about doing this as all the other girls in her Ancient Myths & Legends class earlier that day.

The class had been assigned a project in which they had to present information about a myth revolving around an object or place somewhere in their area of Karakura. Next they debated how probable each myth was and what had occurred to start it. Rangiku had found out about an old well that was located on a shrine near her home. She had said that according to the information she received from the shrine maiden, that calling out the name of one of the Seven Lucky Gods who blessed the well, then making a wish, would make it come true.

Rukia had stressed about finals since Midterm and Momo had suggested that everyone go make a wish on the well for good finals, since tonight was the right phase of the moon for success. Everyone in the class had thought it was a great idea and they had all decided to meet later in the evening to go by and make a wish. Rangiku had been the only one to show up at the spot they decided to gather at and she told Rukia that everyone else would meet them at the shrine later. After arriving at the shrine, Rangiku had then run off with her boyfriend Gin when he showed up, leaving poor Rukia there alone to do it by herself.

The shrine was beautiful with kasuga-zukuri style buildings made of stunning Sequoioideae and jade that looked well maintained with large sakura trees scattered throughout. Rukia walked down the sandō, passing the tōrō that decorated the sides of the walkway. There was a samusho with a shop that sold religious trinkets located across from the ema. A haiden for praying was located at the end of the sandō with a large honden located directly behind the haiden. There were smaller sessha on the grounds as well. The well was located off in a corner next to a large sakura tree in full bloom. The well itself was made of charming gray marble that stood just above Rukia’s waist, with a small roof that looked old and worn compared to the other buildings. Rukia watched as sakura petals floated to the ground around her before she walked up to the well and looked over into it. It didn’t seem to be anything special but most things that had myths revolving around them didn’t, in her opinion.

It was late and Rukia found her way to the well using the dim light cast off the nearby lanterns and the streams of moonlight of the evening’s full moon. The sky was void of clouds and slowly stars burst forth in the darkening sky in an array of illumination. For a moment, Rukia considered turning around and just going home but surprisingly she decided that it couldn’t hurt anything if she did make a wish; so she looked around to make sure no one was watching and proceeded to make her wish as Rangiku had instructed. The directions were to throw a coin in the air and make a wish before it hits the water and the bigger the coin, the better the chance you have at getting your wish. Rukia went over her wish one last time before tossing the coin into the air and as she looked down; he stepped into her line of vision.

I threw a wish in the well, Don’t ask me, I’ll never tell I looked to you as it fell, And now you’re in my way

I’d trade my soul for a wish, Pennies and dimes for a kiss I wasn’t looking for this, But now you’re in my way

As she closed azure eyes and began her wish, his face appeared in her mind’s eye and a slight blush graced ivory cheeks. Quickly, Rukia became irritated at her lack of control and inability to concentrate on something so simple. She tried to focus on what she wanted, but again thoughts of him plagued her mind. At that moment, she heard a “plop” from the sound of the coin hitting the water…she had gotten to – I wish – and all other thought was consumed by him.

As she opened her eyes, he was standing a short distance away, leaning up against a wall staring at her between sips of water from a bottle he was holding. Or maybe he was glaring; she wasn’t sure because of the scowl on his face. His eyebrows were drawn up over dark amber eyes, under a messy shock of ginger hair that whipped in the warm breeze. Rukia couldn’t remember if she had ever seen hair that bright before, as it had a slight glow in the early moonlight. She caught a scent on the wind of the forest after a spring rain and musky vanilla. It was distinctly masculine but it was pleasant to her senses and she figured it must belong to the male that was a short distance away. He looked to be about the same age as her, maybe a year or two older and was wearing a dirty white t-shirt and some jeans with rips in the knees with the bottoms ragged from use covering up work boots.

Your stare was holdin’, Ripped jeans, skin was showin’ Hot night, wind was blowin’ Where you think you’re going, baby?

At that point, he stood up from the wall and turned to walk away. Suddenly, something came over Rukia and she found herself running up to him. She grabbed his arm, floundering momentarily with what to say and finally a soft “Hey”, came out of her lips. He turned around at her statement and Rukia found herself pulled into his amber gaze. She couldn’t understand why she couldn’t look away and pondered on what he must be thinking of the situation as well. As she was contemplating the exact color of his eyes, a warm voice brought her out of her musings, “Hey, you alright?” His statement clearing the fog in her brain and with a startled expression clearly on her face, Rukia came back from her earlier musings.

It’s hard to look right, At you baby, But here’s my number, So call me, maybe?

Suddenly, his phone went off in his pocket and he looked at it to see who was calling. Rukia wondered who had called; waited patiently for him to speak and held her breath when he looked down at her. “Sorry, but I gotta go. It’s late and I’ve got class in the morning”, the smooth timber of his voice wrapping around her senses. “Oh right, I’ve got classes tomorrow too. I’m so sorry; I don’t know what came over me.” Brought back to her senses, Rukia released his arm and watched as he gave a small nod with a slight smirk on his face before he walked away.

After he had rounded the corner out of Rukia’s eyesight she slowly blinked, realizing that she had been staring at him as he walked away. Just then she turned to walk back to her apartment and her foot collided with something. When she looked down, she noticed a toolbox that he had sat down when he had walked over there earlier. A spark of mischief and bravery shot through Rukia as she decided to do something extremely impulsive for a Kuchiki. She found a notepad in her bag and wrote:

To the orange-haired boy at the well,_

Hey, I just met you and this is crazy,_

but here’s my number, so call me…maybe?

From the dark-haired girl at the well._

Then she scribbled her number at the bottom and stuck the card in the toolbox where she knew he would see it, she thought – how sad is this that I don’t even know his name –? As she walked home, Rukia felt a bit happier than she had in a long time, a small smile coming to her lips.

And all the other boys, Try to chase me, But here’s my number, So call me, maybe?

To say that Rukia was popular with the boys would be an understatement. As a Kuchiki, a reputation had preceded her into college and most of the male population tried for her attention as a way of creating ties between their family and the honored Kuchiki clan. Thankfully, Rukia was still attending Karakura Junior College, so her classes were primarily female. She only had to deal with upper class-men from Karakura University at the quarterly formals marking the change of seasons and semesters.

You took your time with the call, I took no time with the fall You gave me nothing at all, But still, you’re in my way

Ichigo looked down at the number scrawled across the paper he held in his hand. He had debated about whether to call the strange girl or tack it up to ‘things that happen when you’re out too late’. He thought back to that day, almost a week ago, and to the strange girl Rukia. She had dark raven hair that ended at her shoulders with a slip of bangs that fell between large azure eyes nestled in an ivory face. That girl had been wearing her uniform, which let Ichigo know which college she attended and after talking with his friend Tatsuki he found out that her name was Rukia. It consisted of a white short-sleeved blouse, peacock-colored, pleated skirt with a matching vest that contained the schools crest on the left breast. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t yelled at her when she ran up and grabbed him. When he turned around to look at her, his voice failed him and he was suddenly lost in her large eyes.

After talking to his friend Tatsuki, who attended the same college as Rukia, he decided that he would give her a call. Tatsuki had told him that she never saw Rukia with a guy, and he was curious as to why this girl Rukia decided to slip her number to him without knowing his name.

Ichigo dialed her number and waited as it rang a few times before going to voice mail. First, he felt annoyed that she had given him her number and then not answered. After that he decided that she didn’t know his number and probably thought it was a wrong number. So, he dialed the number again and waited for the voice mail to go through and left her a message…"Hey, Rukia. This is Ichigo from the other day at the well. –Wow that sounds so dumb– Anyway, I thought that maybe we could go out this weekend? Give me a call back if you’re busy; otherwise, I will see you Friday around 7 at the Kamui Shrine.“

I beg, and borrow and steal Have foresight and it’s real I didn’t know I would feel it, But it’s in my way

She had been in class when Ichigo called. Rukia had pondered the irony between his name and his bright hair color…and how did he find out her name? Doing everything she could to be able to make the date Friday, though she wasn’t sure why she was trying so hard or why every time someone asked about Friday, Rukia found herself blushing and making up excuses. She begged her friend Renji to cover her shift tutoring that night. Momo had insisted that she borrow a cute summer dress of hers for the evening, the violet color accented the matching flecks in her eyes. Rukia spent all afternoon stealing glances at the clock during class in anticipation for when she could leave and get ready.

Rangiku, who happened to be Ichigo’s cousin, had told Rukia that she knew they would have a great time. That she had seen it in a dream and her dreams were never wrong. Rukia had a sneaking suspicion that her friends had set her up, yet she pondered if Ichigo was aware of it also. Deciding that the success of the date would determine her 'friends’ fates, she began the short walk to Kamui Shrine.

Before you came into my life I missed you so bad And you should know that I missed you so, so bad

Rukia arrived ten minutes early, surprised to find Ichigo was there waiting for her. She observed him for a minute, wanting to know a little more about him before walking over. Rukia had to admit that Ichigo cleaned up pretty nicely. He wore a white t-shirt under a deep violet, short-sleeved dress shirt, with khaki pants and brown dress shoes. His orange hair was spiked up just as she had seen it before, though she guessed he couldn’t get it to lie down if he tried. She watched as he paced back and forth with a slight scowl on his face as though he was in deep thought. As she pondered what he could be thinking about to bring such a look to his face, Ichigo suddenly stopped and looked towards her. Rukia jumped slightly at the intense look in his eyes before making her way over to him.

Ichigo took in Rukia’s appearance as she made her way over to him. Every hair on her raven head was in place, with light makeup on her face that accented her eyes and made them look larger than they already were. Her dress came to just above her knees and was violet in color with splashes of yellow on it that made her look like she had been painting. She wore dainty yellow shoes on her feet to complete her outfit. Realization hit him that Rangiku must have known what Rukia was wearing since she told him to wear the shirt he had on and thus they now matched…how sappy.

Rukia stopped a couple of feet from Ichigo and bowed before holding out her hand. Ichigo returned the bow and shook her hand as she spoke, "I think a proper introduction is in order. Hello, my name is Rukia Kuchiki. It’s nice to meet you, officially.” Ichigo returned the gesture, “Hello, my name is Ichigo Kurosaki. It’s also nice to officially meet you. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, I am”, replied Rukia. Ichigo held out his arm for Rukia to take and she was again surprised at his actions. He didn’t come across as a person with such manners, but then again Rukia didn’t know much about him and was just going from her assumption of him based on his appearance from one meeting.

Taking his arm, Ichigo led them to a nearby park. They walked down a cobblestone path passing sakura trees in bloom and under weeping willows whose branches hung over the trail. They stopped for a moment at a stone bridge that crossed over a small stream leading to the lake just ahead. Beautiful wildflowers of every color sat along the ground in the dimming light and the couple watched the sun begin to set on the water, the sky painted in crimson, ochre, amber, fuchsia, and azure. Rukia gasped at the beauty of it all and quickly pulled her camera out of her purse and took a quick snapshot. She glanced over at Ichigo and noticed that in the dimming light his hair appeared to be on fire. Rukia took a picture of Ichigo leaning on the railing of the bridge with a serene look on his face, like he had spent many evenings in that exact spot watching the sun set. Suddenly, Rukia heard Ichigo murmur:

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date … .”

Putting her camera away, Rukia took a step towards Ichigo and he jumped slightly, coming out of his trance. He looked down at Rukia and offered his arm again. She gladly took it, appreciating the quiet moment he had shared with her.

After leaving the park, they walked along the street towards a small bistro that Rukia recognized. She had heard that the food was excellent, but had never been in the neighborhood to stop and try it out. They were seated shortly and gave their orders. Rukia ate rice dumplings with cucumber and eggs while Ichigo ate karashi mentaiko. “Whose work were you reciting earlier at the bridge”, came the quiet question from Rukia. “Oh, I didn’t realize that I said that out loud. It’s a sonnet written by Shakespeare. I’m a theatre and martial arts major at KU and I specialize in Shakespeare.”

“That’s quite a combination. I’m an arts and ancient literature major. I thought that sonnet sounded familiar. This is my last year at KJC and I will be a freshman at KU in the fall”, Rukia informed Ichigo.“ Oh, that explains the camera you had earlier. That is a great place for photography. Each season has its own special look”, replied Ichigo. They continued chatting for a bit while they finished up their meals. Afterward, they headed to the patio for a few drinks before they noticed some of their friends walking by. Gin and Rangiku, Uryu and Orihime, Toshiro and Momo, Renji and Tatsuki, Chad, Mizuiro and Keigo stopped when they noticed Ichigo and Rukia sitting at a table on the patio of the bistro. Rangiku ran up to the railing, dragging Gin along behind her. “Hey, you guys should come with us to the new club down the street. It’s opening night so the cover charge is half off.”

Normally, the first response from both of them would have been no, but after a few drinks they both decided that going to the club wouldn’t be a bad idea, especially since there was no school the next day. Ichigo paid their tab and again offered his arm to Rukia. All the girls awed at them and Rukia blushed while Ichigo looked away and scratched the back of his head. They decided to run by their apartments and change before heading out. Now Rukia was wearing a black, long-sleeved shirt with slits in the arms with cut off jean shorts and low heels. Ichigo was sporting a long-sleeved white shirt with a black vest and worn jeans with sneakers.

By now it was nearing 10:00 pm and both Ichigo and Rukia were feeling the effects of the alcohol they had consumed earlier. Everyone paid to get into the new club Kabuki, which was a club themed after the classical Japanese dance. The club was filled with lavish decorations including kabuki masks and the staff was dressed in kabuki style uniforms. The group got a table and ordered drinks while everyone talked and got better acquainted. With the noise being so loud, everyone had to yell to be heard. As soon as the next song started up however, the girls got quiet before jumping up and dragging their men to the dance floor. Rukia had been sitting at the table talking to her friends while Ichigo went to get them another drink. Rukia realized that she had missed things like this. She noticed him across the room and once again something came over her as she stood and made her way towards him to let him know that she missed him.

When the group first arrived…

After the group grabbed a spot to sit, they split off into two groups. All the girls wanted to know how Rukia’s evening with Ichigo was going so far and the guys were bugging Ichigo about whether he was going to get laid that night, much to their shared dismay. Rangiku ordered some shots for the girls and Renji ordered a few pitchers of beer for the guys.

“So Rukia, how has my cousin been treating you tonight?” came the question from Rangiku before downing her first shot. “He’s been a perfect gentleman the entire evening, Rangiku”, Rukia replied while eyeing her shot warily. “Really? Those acting classes must be coming in handy,” Tatsuki said with surprise evident in her voice. “Maybe he just really likes Rukia, so he is being shy,” piped up Momo. “If so, Rukia is in for a shock when she gets a dose of his usual demeanor,” Rangiku added with a slight chuckle. Rukia sat back listening to what everyone was saying, wondering how everyone else seemed to know her date so well, when she had just met him. She looked over to see her orange-haired date glaring at the other guys at the table with a slight blush on his face and Rukia wondered what they were talking about.

“Guys, I’ve only known Rukia for a few hours. What on earth makes you think she is going to put out on the first date or that I’m even going to try?” came the gruff response from Ichigo after Renji’s inquiry to his progress tonight. “Rangiku and I barely made it through dinner before heading back to my place,” came the remark from Gin as he grinned at Ichigo. “I really didn’t need to know that about my cousin, Gin,” Ichigo replied bluntly, “It was bad enough she wouldn’t let me get dressed in private earlier.” That remark earned a chuckle from the guys at the table. “The rest of you have no room to talk either, since you all knew your girlfriends before you got together,” Ichigo said pointedly to Renji, Toshiro and Uryu.

“By the way Renji, how come you seem to know Rukia so well, but I’ve never met her?” Ichigo questioned. “Oh, my dad’s firm has represented the Kuchiki’s for a long time, so Rukia and I spent quite a bit of time together at business parties and such,” Renji replied looking embarrassed about the whole ordeal. He didn’t like to be judged by his father’s reputation, so he didn’t talk about it much. “Her brother Byakuya was very particular about who Rukia interacted with when she was younger. She was home schooled until high school and then she went to a private academy. Rukia threatened to never marry if Byakuya didn’t let her attend KJC,” Renji said followed by a laugh when imagining Rukia telling Byakuya anything.

At this point both groups had consumed more alcohol than they probably should have and most likely they would all be regretting it one way or another by the next morning. Everyone else had made their way to the dance floor and Rukia was currently sitting at the table waiting for Ichigo to bring her a drink. They had just come from the floor and were catching a breather…mainly because neither of them cared for the current song.

Rangiku knew that if anything was going to happen between Rukia and Ichigo that night that Rukia would have to be the one to initiate things. She knew Ichigo had a lot of respect for women and would never try anything while they were drinking. Rangiku also knew that with the right persuasion, Ichigo might come over the dark side with the rest of them…after all she was his cousin and she knew way too much about the guy.

The girls found a really good song that they knew Rukia was familiar with and that might push all the right buttons with Ichigo. They instructed the DJ to play the first half of the song without the words and that their friend would be singing that part.

Rukia saw the girls run over to her and Rangiku was bringing a microphone headset along with her. She knew what that meant and while she would usually refuse, she was feeling generous tonight. While she had just been contemplating her feelings for Ichigo, the girls had presented her with the perfect way for her to let loose and not really think about it. Taking the headset, Rukia stood up and walked over to Ichigo as the music started to play. As Ichigo began to turn around with their drinks, he noticed Rukia coming towards him and over the noise of the club he heard her voice ring out.

Hey, over there, please forgive me If I’m coming on too strong Hate to stare, but you’re winning And they’re playing my favorite song

Rukia sauntered up to Ichigo, who was as still as a statue in awe and shock of what she was doing. Who would have thought that a girl such as Rukia would be able to sing like that…and willing to sing a song like this? Rukia ran her hand along Ichigo’s shoulders as she circled him, stopping in front of him to run her hands down his chest, then taking their drinks and placing them back on the counter. Grabbing his vest, Rukia started pulling Ichigo closer to her as the next line of the song started.

So come here, a little closer Wanna whisper in your ear Make it clear, little question Wanna know just how you feel

Rukia pulled Ichigo down so that she could whisper in his ear…at this point everyone in the club was hanging on every word she said. Each person waiting to see what Rukia would do next. 

If I said my heart was beating loud If we could escape the crowd somehow If I said I want your body now Would you hold it against me?

(Ichigo’s eyes widened)

Rukia ran her hands up Ichigo’s chest to meet behind his neck, doing her best to pull herself flush up against him. Running her hands down his arms to thread their fingers together and twisting so that her back was now pressed up against Ichigo’s front, Rukia recited the next lines of the song.

‘Cause you feel like paradise And I need a vacation tonight So if I said I want your body now Would you hold it against me?

As the final line left Rukia’s lips, she shifted back to look into Ichigo’s eyes. Ichigo was so caught up in her words, the sounds around them fading away as he focused on the way Rukia looked, her perfume making him lightheaded. Ichigo lifted his hand to Rukia’s face and bent over to kiss her deeply, trying to convey his feelings in that single act.

Rukia, still holding Ichigo’s hand, turned and pulled him out onto the dance floor.

Hey, you might think that I’m crazy But you know I’m just your type I might be a little hazy But you just cannot deny

There’s a spark in between us When we’re dancing on the floor I want more, wanna see it So I’m asking you tonight

One of the guys had grabbed a headset and tossed it to Ichigo, knowing that at this point there was no way he would back down from a challenge. Ichigo surprised Rukia by singing the next part as he twirled her around, hearing a giggle escape her which brought a smile to his face.

If I said my heart was beating loud If we could escape the crowd somehow If I said I want your body now Would you hold it against me?

‘Cause you feel like paradise And I need a vacation tonight So if I said I want your body now Would you hold it against me?

Rukia’s eyes grew larger than normal at the timber of Ichigo’s voice. She would have never guessed that her poet could sing. It flowed over her body like warm honey and a shiver ran down her spine as she imagined how husky it could get. Rukia’s favorite part of the song was coming up so she gave Ichigo a look, hoping to convey her message to him…which he seemed to get as he gave her a wink in return. The next part they said together.

If I said I want your body Would you hold it against me?

Rukia pulled herself out of Ichigo’s arms as the girls came up behind her. They had made up a group dance for that part and proceeded to do it as the guys walked up behind Ichigo. As the dance wore down, each girl walked up and grabbed her man before they moved off to continue dancing. Finally, Ichigo was the last one standing as Rukia came up and wrapped her arms around him. The night continued along, with the pair getting a lot of grief from the group over their performance, though everyone was honestly impressed with how well they worked together.

Ichigo escorted Rukia home, both having decided that the night was a total success. They had parked in Rukia’s driveway when Ichigo spoke up, “So, I had a great time tonight. Call me?” Rukia was surprised that Ichigo had asked her to make the next move, “Maybe. But you’ll have to actually leave first”, giving Ichigo a suggestive smirk at the end. Grabbing his keys from the ignition, Rukia gave him a quick peck before jumping out of the car and sprinting towards her house…evil laughter bubbling out as she contemplated where to hide the keys. Ichigo sat stunned for a minute before what she had said and done finally registered in his brain. Climbing out of the car, he hurried to the house, locking the door on his way through as he set out to find Rukia and eventually his keys.

Ichigo felt the couch shift as Rukia moved to grab some popcorn from the bowl that was perched on his stomach. When a runaway kernel hit him in the eye, Ichigo looked up from Rukia’s lap to see the girl covering her mouth in an attempt to hide her laughter, though the shaking of her body gave it all away. Removing the offending kernel and popping it in his mouth, he returned his attention back to the movie they were watching.

Honestly, at this point Ichigo was getting tired of this movie. One of his theatre related classes required that they watch The Mask of Zorro. Now watching the movie wasn’t difficult, it was all the paperwork that had accompanied it. He had a packet of questions to answer before he watched the movie, after he watched the movie and another one to answer as he watched it again. All relating to how your perception changes based on your knowledge and how foreshadowing can benefit or harm a production. The dance scene was coming up and Ichigo decided that they needed a change of pace. Hopping up from the couch, Ichigo turned and bent down on one knee before Rukia, holding out his hand and mouthed along with the voice on the screen.

“Would you care to try something more robust, or do you feel unequal to the task?” He noticed Rukia’s eyes light up almost instantly and knew that she had caught on to what he was doing as she placed her hand in his, letting him pull her to her feet and away from the couch.

“No. On the contrary Don Alejandro, I think only of your distaste for perspiration.” Ichigo laughed at the haughty look in Rukia’s eyes as she delivered her lines.

He pulled her over to an open area in the living room as the music started. Ichigo twirled her into a dip with his left arm before switching her over into a dip on his right. The pair did a few fun spins and twirls before the music started becoming more serious and they came back together, Ichigo lifting Rukia off the ground to make up for her lack in height as he buried his nose in her neck, making her giggle before they sprung apart once again. Rukia moved low to the ground as Ichigo rose in the air, then each doing different dance poses as they moved in a circle around each other. Together and back, then together again…each move more dramatic than the last. They moved to the left and the right, Ichigo picking Rukia up as needed before twirling her around. Ichigo lowered Rukia to the floor before pulling her up…Rukia jumping up to wrap her legs around Ichigo’s waist. The dance over and the show left in the background as the pair got lost in each other.

Ichigo proceeded to press Rukia up against the wall…following his previous movements with his mouth, wrapping one arm about her waist as the other braced himself, while Rukia plunged her hands into citrus hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. After a moment, Ichigo pulled away before resting his forehead against Rukia’s.

“One woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am well;  another virtuous, yet I am well; but till all graces be in one woman,  one woman shall not come in my grace.”

Rukia ran her hands down to cup Ichigo’s face, “Using Shakespeare to sweet talk me? You clever boy.”

Ichigo moved back and fell down on the couch, Rukia in his lap, “Well, I’ve got to keep impressing you. It’s only been a few months and there is not nearly enough of our stuff sitting around each others place. You’d think we barely see each other.” Rukia laughed at the serious look on Ichigo’s face.

Ichigo wrapped his arms around Rukia and hid his face in her neck, “Besides, Byakuya isn’t my biggest fan…so if I don’t have you on my side, I’ll never get to keep you.”

“With hair as garish as yours, can you blame him?” Ichigo glared at the insult as Rukia smirked back at him.

“I’m not dyeing it black. If it hurts his eyes so much, he can wear sunglasses. Pretentious ass”, irritation clear in Ichigo’s voice.

Rukia straightened up to look at Ichigo, “Anyway, after the last formal…I’m pretty sure most of the campus knows who is coming home with me.”

“Hey, I honestly had no clue that there was a fan-club dedicated to me! Rangiku is the hustling busybody who started the damn thing. It was utterly embarrassing. Thankfully, you were there to rescue me from the clutches of those scandalous women”, Ichigo had gotten rather dramatic at the end.

Rukia laughed at his act before she spoke, “I definitely never thought we’d have to defend each other from a hoard of would-be suitors.”

“If that bunch of stuffed shirts would have left well enough alone, I wouldn’t have decided to step in”, Ichigo retorted with a smug look.

Rukia nodded in agreement, “Yeah, the look on their faces was priceless. You know, if you’d just come out and tell people you’re part of the Shiba family…they’d lay off. I know you want to make it on your own merit though. Just one more thing about you that draws me in, I guess.”

Rukia laid her head down on Ichigo’s chest and they sat there in silence for a few minutes…the television in the background simply noise behind their thoughts.

Rukia mumbled into the shirt under her cheek, “So, Ichigo. When are you going to hunt for your keys again? It’s been about a week since the last time.”

Ichigo looked thoughtful for a moment before he responded, “I suppose I should look again. I think you keep moving them on me, to be honest. My poor car has sat in your drive for months now. Plus, I’m still making payments and keeping insurance on a car I can’t use.”

“That’s why you don’t keep your spare with the original. And yes, I keep moving the keys cause I take your car out once a week to keep it in shape”, Rukia snickered at the shocked look on Ichigo’s face.

“Seriously! So you haven’t lost them. I’ve got to find those keys.” Ichigo tossed Rukia over his shoulder and started his mad dash search through her house…which generally ended somewhere upstairs, around her bedroom. Rukia was good at distracting him that way. If only he knew that she did it when he was getting close…unless he did know and was just playing along.

[aloneinxthenight]

M*A*S*H starters

memes from the 4077th

ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL: Here we have a compendium of sentences from a show that is known as one of the best television shows of all time. This was not a request, I do not do requests for starter lists. I was legitimately just watching M*A*S*H and thought the world would be much better with another starter list from it. Feel free to add names and change pronouns as needed, if you wanna add any zingers from the show yourself, don't hesitate! Since M*A*S*H is a military type show, I tried to get as many sentences that could apply to everyone as possible. There's some angst, a whole lot of humor and a few one-liners in here which took hours of watching (such hard work) to compile so enjoy! And if you're sending any one of these tongue-tingling phrases to a multi-muse blog, please specify the muse!

I had a hamster back home who used to get the same look in his eyes when he wasn't feeling good.

Except for your face, your mind and your body, you're a complete dud.

Should we ask some people in or should we just be boring on our own?

Oh, I never do. If I keep washin' them they stay clean forever.

She was in here before, with me, alone.

Maybe it was her perfume... Maybe it was mine.

Do me a favor _______, if you find out I've died, just leave me lying there in the crabgrass.

At least my mouth is still working.

Oh hey, I was there. The army was cleaning out Lincoln's nose.

What do you miss the most about back home?

Well we couldn't finish it anyway, _______ confiscated the best parts.

Almost lifelike.

You wish each of us a prostitute?

He could sell brass knuckles to Gandhi.

How could he be alive like that one second then dead the next?

I could give you a lot of medical reasons but... understanding doesn't make it less painful.

We got to be friends in just a few hours!

Friends don't need any more.

Gee, I hope I don't cry...

When was the last time you felt like crying?

_______ is an expert on fits.

Do I hear ten? Sold to the grim reaper in the third row.

You bought the garbage?

Well, you said get a hobby!

I thought we'd give _______ an appropriate aloha.

Beautiful! Beautiful! A Tintoretto in barf!

I had dreams like this all through puberty...

I didn't see any of it, but I loved it.

That's my garbage!

No, no, that's my garbage, _______, I have a receipt!

I don't kiss and tell... it was terrific.

Ali "Babble" to the end, aren't ya?

How'd you like a grenade in your truss?

Besides my life, _______ wants my virginity.

We all do.

If only I'd known!

He wrote in big letters, "Know your Enema."

Your fly is open.

Don't leave your unopen mail around.

I know you're not giggling because you're wearing feathered underwear, you just can't wait to park your can behind this desk.

Have a good time and, uh, don't do anything I wouldn't do.

I don't know that I'd want to do anything you would do.

Of course, God wasn't surrounded by a bunch of flakes.

I object to the word weird!

You see, I told you it was a war! But no, you keep saying we're both dreaming!

What do you think you're doing wearing civilian underpants?!

Is nothing sacred? These happen to be my mothers!

I'm here to discuss something besides underwear.

My mother always said two things: Never argue with crazy people and always wear clean underwear.

_______, your sanity's sprung a leak.

I think it's going very well, don't you?

It'll never happen... Probably.

Oh, I just figured if a priest could be tempted, that's the type of stuff he'd steal.

What are you looking for, _______?

His marbles.

Are you with him, or are you independently crazy?

The eyes always give the guilty away. The windows to the soul.

Don't tell me he sleeps with you.

I'm hoping to do better.

I knew I should have ripped the stuffin's out of the little bugger when I had the opportunity...

It was one of those days that more than most, reminds us all that war, however much we may enjoy it, is no strawberry festival.

Saving lives is my business, mister.

Was that a bomb?

Uh, no, _______ Someone's playing the WWII album!

You can either help the wounded or become one.

You beat the rap, Babyface!

Lovely place, Bellevue.

"Hold your potatoes..."

I'll probably develop an urge to walk on the water.

Isn't that where the Austrailian nurse scratched you?

Only because I wanted to go home in her pouch.

I patched that months ago.

It's talent, pure talent.

Mmm, sounds serious. You may be coming down with mental health.

It's not a death wish, is it?

You're not the self-destructive type.

You suppose any of us will speak English again?

Perhaps his arms will get tired.

I never sleep in the hospital.

Now they're sending me back.

I think I need less luck back here.

Gee, you're a nice guy.

I used to get hit if I wasn't.

Should I be hearing Arthur Godfrey?

I know you're working but I just wanted to say thanks.

I hope I never see you again, ya know?

I came, I saw, I bored.

Completely forgettable looks that stay with you forever.

Sounds like we're getting into flashback country.

________'s too sharp for that, he always leaves a trail of breadcrumbs.

If I didn't see her every hour, I got the bends.

I know you were young but you must have had names.

Look at that. Talent. I'm not just a pretty face.

You're weird.

Give the little lady a cigar.

Dinner here is around 7. Nausea's around 8.

You have your choice: Gin or gin?

It's pure poison.

We think so.

How do I look?

A little thinner, a little paler. A few gray hairs.

These aren't mine, I'm breaking in a friend's senility.

How do you stand on the subject of sitting?

Children? No, I'm still my only child.

You're trying too hard. Are you uncomfortable?

There's been no one since you.

I had to survive.

Right. Here's to survival.

I'm just afraid of your voice giving me frostbite.

Hurt? You broke my legs. It really tore me apart when you left me.

I got over the hate but I never got over the love.

Oh! Master complicator.

God forbid anything should ever be easy.

"Be myself", You said! Well, myself happens to love you.

Oh, now I understand. Since we're in love there's no possible reason for us to be together!

You've just proposed yourself into a corner!

I just don't want to take a backseat again. I like it up front.

If anybody asks, I turned you down. Yeah?

If it's a police action, why didn't they send cops?

I'm not over here because I'm such a fan of diarrhea!

Can the balloon juice, _______!

How do you keep all that stuff in your head?

Man, seein' the way you guys work makes me proud every time I throw up.

One more word and I'll button your lip to your fly.

Amazing what can get stuck in the human body.

I just know how hard it is to operate and be secretary of state at the same time.

Everybody's got a buddy in there.

Look we'll keep you posted, let you know if it's a boy or a girl.

Hey, would you like some Jeep butter?

I've just heard something very disturbing and if it's true then I'm afraid I'll have to fight you.

When I was five, I had a crying fit because they wouldn't let me have a crew cut.

Uglier than rats mating in my duffel bag?

I worked my way through divinity school as a "B" girl in San Diego.

I smell something burning.

The laundry's on fire.

_______ I don't know how to tell you this, but I've had a better offer.

Take me with you.

Just wanted to thank you for staying.

Some of their saltier comments had been deleted.

The dictionary. I figure it's got all the other books in it.

The only thing that's not green is the blood.

I suppose they do and that gets to be a pain in the ass too.

I'd like it to happen to me to break up the boredom.

That's on the Hungarian side of town.

Well, do you see anything good coming out of this?

There's always terror to fall back on.

Oh, so that's what it's like to have a bomb explode a few feet away from me.

I stopped having morale about six months ago.

You know, I used to love reading Hemingway because he wrote so well.

I guess I got a little drunk.

Uh "a lot" is a relative term.

If I knew all the answers, I'd run for God.

Pistachio ice cream... And bananas.

She squeezes your nose.

Some people heard the screaming and said, "That sounds just like Eleanor Roosevelt!"

I'd like to take six to seven months and become unconscious.

And then I'd like to go to Europe and sleep there for a year.

I had to come over here to be a star!

The nearest one is over in Grange Hall in uh, Mooseville. About 50 miles away.

Oh, I don't have to say hello, I know how everybody feels about me.

No, I think she doesn't like me. I mean that's the only conclusion I can draw.

He could have at least called me a son of a bitch. He's done it for others.

Heads up!

No talking in rank!

He's a magician with latrines and cesspools.

Don't tell me not to say anything.

He's brighter than I thought.

Garbage head.

Santa Claus is coming to town.

♫ I love to go swimmin' with bow-legged women and swim between their legs. ♫

Wounded come before personal chafing.

Oh give him a break, Alice, you're the first woman he's seen in months.

You always give me the cuties.

He owes me, I sent him a case of Preparation H.

Just don't sit on anything cold.

Okay guys, time to beat your feet on the Mississippi mud.

He'll punch my arm.

Wear your heavy sweater.

My God, now I'm talking like you.

That watch you sold me runs backward!

I can't stand that pimply voice.

That is Grade A 100% bull cookies!

Never doubt your X-ray or your hairdresser.

Too bad this kid didn't come with a zipper.

Why didn't I shoot my foot and stay in Honolulu?

Don't get upset, just eat your carrot slowly.

Your nostrils are flaring.

My nostrils have a right to flare, I'm in charge.

You tell him if he takes this chair, my tuchus will attack him barehanded.

The permanent verticle smile. Famed in song and story?

I'm starvin'. I'd even settle for one of _______'s armpit sandwiches.

Oh, you finally realized I have a beautiful body.

I've never seen your body!

If you need me, I'll be packing up my troubles in my old kit bag.

No, but I was always prepared.

_______ when all this is over, I'm gonna adopt you.

Come on, Pokey!

There are sequins all over the ground!

Me, scared? This whole body is one white knuckle.

I'll have the shoelaces, house dressing. And have the chef remove the laces.

There's a lady on my foot.

Oh, miss, this probably isn't your table but could you scratch the back of my knee?

Would I deny you a belch?

Oh to be in England now that war is here.

Due To circumstances beyond our control, lunch will be served today.

Please excuse these two, they're themselves today.

The men hate me, don't they?

_______, you are a gentleman and a lady.

Whoa, did you know it's yesterday there?

Standby for the blessing.

Standby for the blessing!

STANDBY FOR THE BLESSING!

Nothing comes after Amen.

Looks like an abandoned schoolhouse.

Look in the boxes marked kitchen utensils.

Concubines? In a schoolhouse?

Oh no, I love that after church on toast.

That's not your dress! I'll kill ya!

But my blue chiffon is from Murdoch's in Toledo!

_______, that's the finest act of bravery I've ever witnessed.

I don't sleep well on a soft wall.

The weather's clear. I can see the stars.

Oh, thank you comrade, and get me some borscht. Easy on the sour cream.

_______ stop that!

Give him a smooth ride.

I'm gonna be ravaged, I know it!

Tell 'em you're with me.

I was overrun by a batch of bimbos!

It tickled but I kinda liked it.

And midnight has been canceled.

You think you're real smart. But you're not smart; you're dumb. Very dumb. But you've met your match in me.

Life, Liberty, and Pursuit of happy hour.

50 more pounds, and I'm homeward-bound!

I call it "Suicide by Salami"!

You're always wrong, _______. That's what's so right about you.

Live! That's an order!

I'm so cold I think my pilot's gone out.

How much of this can a man take? We must have seen this picture twelve times in the last month. It's a recurring nightmare with popcorn.

Act like a man, you sniveling twerp!

I was born with someone waiting to see me.

Why don't you guys like me?

Because you're a lousy _______ and a rotten person.

Well, there's your pimples.

My pores won't close!

I've been up and down on a merry-go-round since I got here!

I've barely slept a wink!

It's not just big, it's great big with whipped cream!

You shouldn't mention _______'s chest when it's not here to stand up for itself.

Thank you, Daddy Warbucks.

Well, for your information, I've never had any complaints.

Dead men tell no tales.

I know the diamond's not so big, it's a family heirloom.

Must be a small family.

I keep pinching myself to see if I'm dreaming.

I'm engaged to be married!

He sleeps on a bare piece of plywood.

I couldn't love anyone who didn't outrank me.

Are you sure you're not rushing into this in the heat of... Whatever heat you might be in?

This ole cowboy ain't gonna be lonesome tonight.

He's busy tuning his face.

My student council could have used someone like her.

I thought this was going to be a fun meeting.

Get ready to duck, he's liable to explode.

Did anyone ever tell you, you have the voice of a songbird slowly drowning in tar?

If you act drunk long enough, you get a REAL hangover.

Unhand me you varlet, you know not who you touch.

You'd be surprised what a priest can get away with.

Hear ye, Hear ye, it's 0700 and all is hell.

Remove your hand or I'll zap you with my knee.

He touched me.

What a physique! Shoulders like this! Dancers legs and cute little behind!

_______ there'll be no more chinny chin chin. Or any other part of me.

Uh oh, he took his gun and his toothbrush.

Shooting his mouth off again?

Son, heroics just get people killed. They don't impress anybody.

Well, you see I had this friend... And this friend just pretended to like me. You know, the way Dad used to?

They're not pagans, _______. Everyone's going to be wearing clothes.

Oh my God! They've shot him!

Did _______ steal that jeep?

I didn't even know you were gone. I thought you were in the bathroom.

Maybe some people like having other people run their lives, but some people don't.

Oh, stop dreaming a go back to sleep!

I don't remember leaving a wake-up scream.

_______ do me a favor will ya? Visit me a couple hundred times will ya?

Can't you see I can't see?

I wore this with just you in mind.

I heard the hair on your legs rustling.

[voxvulgi]

♫ + gin

so...it has been maybe a couple of years since you sent me this ask, dear elli, and i still have only one (1) song in Gin's playlist and it's Crazy = Genius by P!ATD

i thought if i left this ask in my drafts and came back to it later, i would have more songs to add, but..........welp

edit: i have just added Will of the People by Muse to Gin's playlist!!! :D

[raywritesthings]

My Writing

For @trapper-john who requested piercintyre + back rubs ages ago

Sleep was hard to come by in Korea. You were either too hot or too cold. You were hungry, or you were sick from the mess tent food. The times when you were exhausted beyond belief often coincided with being shin-deep in blood on the operating room floor. And still there were other times you put it off for different activities involving U.S. Army standard-issue cots.

Trapper often found himself in the latter category when he could, especially since it allowed him to still catch a little shut-eye. Unfortunately, the partner he’d chosen to steal a few hours with tonight was less soft curves and more sharp elbows.

As if on cue, Hawkeye arched his back again, the back of his head smushing into Trapper’s nose unexpectedly. He had to turn his face away to avoid getting a mouthful of the other’s hair.

“Hawk?” He whispered, the sound practically lost amongst the bubbling of the still.

“Mm?” Another shift, accompanied by a brief elbow jab.

He tried a little louder. “Hawkeye? Hey, Hawk?”

His bedmate’s head rose sharply. “What? What is it?” Those blue eyes were fixed on the mesh of the tent.

“Nothing like that,” Trapper assured him. Frank wouldn’t be back from Post-Op duty till 0800; it was why they’d taken the risk in the first place. “Just, would you settle already? I’m trying to get at least a little sleep, ya know.”

“Just getting comfortable.”

“Well if you get any more comfortable I’m not gonna have any room,” he pointed out.

Hawkeye heaved a dramatic sigh. “Fine, fine.” He rolled over onto his side again, leaving well over half the cot free. Trapper shook his head. If the other man was really feeling waspish, he’d just tell him to get back in his own cot. So Trapper made a show of stretching out lazily before slinging his arm over Hawkeye’s waist to pull him back against his chest.

Rather than giving another exaggerated huff before settling against him, however, Hawkeye visibly winced, and there was no mistaking the hiss of pain that escaped his lips.

Trapper propped himself up on his elbow. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, Trap.” His bedfellow seemed to remember precisely who he was trying to fool after a moment under Trapper’s dubious stare, and so he amended, “My back’s acting up. Happens all the time.”

“I thought it was your shoulder that gave you trouble,” he reminded shrewdly.

His friend’s lips twitched into a grimace more than a smile. “Well this is all too real, I assure you.”

“You’re a bit young for chronic back pain.”

“If only I’d thought to tell it that,” Hawkeye replied, mockingly wistful.

“Anything I can do?”

“Yeah, you can pack me up in a shipping crate and mail me to Tokyo.”

“C’mon Hawk, I’m serious.”

Hawkeye peered over his shoulder at him. “You, serious?”

“Only comes around once a year,” he told him. “Better take your chance.”

The other man continued to study him for a moment, before seemingly giving in with a sigh. “I can’t really reach the spot that’s giving me trouble.”

“Say no more.” Trapper patted the cot. “You’re in luck, because Dr. McIntrye takes house calls.”

Sure, he’d been hoping for sleep, but he wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to run his hands all over a warm body, particularly Hawkeye’s. Which was a thought better left un-dwelled upon. Instead he watched as the other man stretched out on his stomach.

“You some kind of prude all of a sudden? Shirt off.”

The other man pushed back up gingerly and complied, not before asking “Is this how you charmed all the other girls?”

Trapper grinned. “Nah. Only degenerate Chief Surgeons with gin-positive blood.” Of course, his stupid mouth had to go ahead proclaiming things he wasn’t even comfortable voicing in his mind.

Hawkeye seemed to take it as the joke it wasn’t, for he settled back down with little fuss and no shirt. The cot creaked a little as they shifted into position, Trapper bracing a knee on either side of the other man. There was no cause for alarm over it breaking; they’d tested it pretty thoroughly by now.

Hawkeye turned his head, catching him with a wide-eyed, exaggeratedly vulnerable look. “Be gentle with me.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“Well truthfully—ah!” Hawkeye cried out before having the sense to clap a hand over his mouth as Trapper dug his thumbs into the area that had been indicated. They both listened, tense and still, in the dark, but no reaction from beyond their tent came. The sentry had to be across the compound or something or more likely just couldn’t bring himself to care. Good man.

“Boy, you really weren’t kidding,” he leaned forward a bit to whisper.

“Would I lie to you?” was the equally hushed reply.

“Well truthfully,” he echoed, grinning as Hawkeye reached back to smack weakly at his elbow. “Least now I know to take better care of you.”

“You better. You were too cheap to buy the warranty, and I have a very strict no-return policy.”

He doubted Hawkeye knew just how badly the thought of ever ‘returning’ him hurt. But he wasn’t the one meant to get maudlin, and anyway his friend genuinely needed some help here. So Trapper began working his fingers a bit more carefully into the knots of tension that seemed to make up the entirety of Hawkeye’s back. He pushed himself too hard, Trapper mused. For all his affectations of laziness, in the OR Hawkeye seemed to labor under the belief that he could bring their patient survival rate up to 100% by sheer force of will. And somehow he hadn’t burned out yet. Trapper liked to think he maybe had a hand in that.

His hands were certainly doing something now and something good judging by the muffled noises Hawkeye was making into his lump of a pillow.

“Pretty sure you’re enjoying this more than the sex,” he quipped. For once there was no quick reply. “I’m gonna have to do this more often,” he noted to himself.

There was something decidedly intimate about it, in a way that the numerous nurses he’d slept with hadn’t been. Putting his hands on another person not for some quick sexual gratification, but out of genuine affection and concern…it was times like these when he really did feel like a cheat.

But Trapper couldn’t help himself. Every time Hawkeye slung an arm around his shoulders, or leaned against him, or pulled him into a dance he gave in, because these were the things he missed most from home, and if he couldn’t have home then he could at least have Hawkeye Pierce.

The man beneath him shifted slightly, a nonverbal reminder that he was clearly neglecting his duties. Trapper resolved to stop thinking so damn much and to just focus on what was in front of him. It was the only way to survive this place anyway.

Hawkeye had a lot of back to him, being so tall, but that was really only giving him the excuse to take his time. His forearms were begging for a break, though, so he obliged them. Instead he leaned over and began retracing the trail of his fingers with his lips. Hawkeye made some small sound into the pillow, and for a moment he fiercely wished they didn’t have to worry about being overheard, that he could listen freely. He wanted to hear just how badly he could wreck a man like Hawkeye.

Trapper lifted his mouth from his lover’s back. “Feeling better?”

Slowly, the other man’s head turned to the side. “Beautiful…you’re beautiful,” Hawkeye mumbled, speech slurred as if he were drunk on something. He was barely keeping his eyes open.

Trapper shook his head. Yes, Hawkeye was definitely comfortable—and Trapper didn’t have any room. Probably for the best. If he dropped off in this cot now he wouldn’t be able to drag himself out of it on his own. He pressed a last sloppy kiss to the base of Hawkeye’s neck, then stumbled the few feet to his cot and collapsed on top of the blanket.

The grit of sleep was in his eyes and his ears were ringing with Frank’s whine before he registered even hitting the pillow. “—and where is your shirt? Sleeping out of uniform is against regulation, Captain!”

“I was visited in the night by a masseuse with magic fingers, Frank,” Hawkeye explained patiently as he laced up his boots. “Better than yours.” Trapper snorted into his pillow.

“Oh, that’s enough of your drivel,” the major said with contempt, storming from the Swamp with a change of clothes for the shower and probably for his stay at Hot Lip’s tent after.

Trapper rolled over fully onto his back just as Hawkeye turned from watching Frank’s departure with a puzzled expression. “You think he’d appreciate the truth every once in a while.”

“Magic fingers, huh?” Trapper echoed with a grin. “Think that’s the best review I’ve ever gotten.”

“Wait till I recommend you to my friends.” Hawkeye retrieved the upper half of his uniform from the floor where it had been discarded the previous night. Then, with a quick glance over the shoulder, he was crossing the tent in two strides, leaning over, and crashing their lips together for a moment that seemed both too brief and dangerously long in daylight. “That’s if I don’t decide to keep you to myself,” the other man breathed against his mouth.

He fell back onto his cot with his arms crossed behind his head. “I could be persuaded to become a personal physician.”

Hawkeye smiled down at him, actually smiled, the kind that made those blue eyes crinkle at the corners. “I’ll schedule my follow-up appointment later.” With that, he straightened and strode from the tent, his shoulders not nearly so hunched as usual. Trapper pressed a thumb to his lips and smiled.

[talesofnecromancy]

March 2017 #35

(#33 and #34 have not been added to this record.)

H: Girl.

Me: How have you been today?

H: I rode as the day was fine. I am tired, but I dd not over-reach myself.

Me: I’m glad to hear it.

H: And you, darlin’?

Me: I’ve been busy with odds and ends. Spent a while sanding and varnishing the Ouija board. I’m trying to get it as smooth as possible, but I dunno how I’ll get it smooth enough. Does it have to be silver - the token?

H: It is my preference, yes. And it may now be linked to this place. Bone is very smooth but the thought makes my teeth ache - ivory too. Wood is too muffled, iron too coarse. Lead crystal may work.

Me: Oh, like a piece from a chandelier? Hm. Do you want to try the un-finished board?

H: No; finish it first and then we’ll try.

Me: I wonder what the smoothest and best thing to make a board from would be? A finer-grained and naturally oily wood? Something lacquered? Polished slate? Volcanic glass?

H: I’m certain your craft and hand will help negate the drag.

Me: That’s a weird phrase, H, where did you pick it up?

H: I heard it. About cars or somesuch. It seemed fitting.

Me: (curious) Cars? Not automobiles or motorcars?

H: Are they still called such? I had thought…

Me: No, no you’re right, it’s cars - it’s just very odd hearing you say the word. How are Gin and the kits?

H: They came with me to enjoy the sunshine.

Me: Were they okay with the wards and the bounds?

H: Gin is vigilant in such matters.

Me: Good. Did you ever get any post in the end?

H: Yes. It was a letter from R.

Me: Still no word from W?

H: No.

Me: Do you think he’s in trouble, busy, or still annoyed with you?

H: W is a deliberate man. He will be deciding if he need pay the favour asked when he has no tie to the task.

Me: It’s not his duty so he’s working out if he owes you this?

H: Yes. Which makes him sound mean-spirited. He is not. Only cautious when it isn’t family.

Me: Hm. Clannish?

H: I never asked if his stock was Scots. I wonder now where the family blood and name first set upon the map.

Me: Where does yours come from?

H: I never asked. A gentleman naturally assumes his family has always been so blessed!

Me: (musing) I can understand that. Prosperous and successful forebears are talked about. But the first who came for greed or to escape shame or tribulations - to speak of them acknowledges your family was once less than it now is...

H: You are of Scots stock, but your heart is English.

Me: Is that all?

H: Your heart is that of an English witch?

Me: (laughing) I love how you’ve decided randomly acknowledging I’m a witch is how best to mollify me.

H: It often does.

Me: Fair. These days we tend to say British, not English, as it’s more inclusive. Although that annoys some people because it’s a throw-back from Empire. It’s all just linguistics, I suppose. Geographically, I’m English, but saying so sounds snobbish or like I subscribe to the Daily Mail - bleh...

H: Ah… not a Yankee or Confederate, nor a Republican nor a Democrat - simply a person of the United States. (thoughtful) Language must hide the hurt to heal it.

Me: Mm, wouldn’t hiding it just make it worse - as if the problem is being ignored?

H: Hide the hurt in history - change the meaning and the form.

Me: So… you think language is one way that society can simultaneously mourn and heal its mistakes?

H: Yes.

Me: That… kinda makes sense. Language is fluid after all: there’s no reason it shouldn’t just reflect but also influence society collectively…

(There then followed a brief conversation on the power of language and its ability to create change and challenge beliefs in subtle as well as overt ways. But it was past 1am so I didn’t write it down.)

Next Conversation

[ofworldsuntravelled]

[ Various tags dump ( 1/?? ) ]

[diaryofastartupmum]

Here’s to 2020!

I love new year. Hogmanay itself can be a mixed bag, especially with two young boys who dictate how much sleep everyone receives. I really love the chance to take a moment to reflect on the year and wonder what the next one will bring.....

From a business perspective, I am not sure that 2019 could have gone much better. So much for my early musings about what I would be doing, with the luxury of time to focus on the necessities of business set up. Instead, time has been filled, often over filled, with work that I have thoroughly enjoyed. 

Family life and work life have mostly been balanced, with the odd moment of “Oh Christ, how an earth do I get it all done”! The inevitable moment when everyone is struck down by some virus and both myself and Chris have deadlines. It would be wrong to say that all of these moments were met with a polite nod and an “after you....” as we both grasp at free moments to work on the highest priority! His studying and mine usually on a funding bid!

I have loved the variety that has come my way. Hope Cohousing Project (https://www.facebook.com/Hope-Cohousing-100629088143881) has developed so rapidly. The highlight being a consortium bid for the “Health Ageing Challenge”. Working with the Orkney Islands Council and Robert Gordon University, we bid for money not only to get our project through the next phase but to support a broader objective of making Cohousing projects easier for everyone. It’s great working with other organisations, we benefit greatly from their experience but wow, the application was a cool 7,000 words long!

I also started working with Zoe Davidson Jewellery (https://zoedavidsonjewellery.co.uk/)  in December. We managed to push out a social media campaign and newsletter in 48 hours launching her new pendant and earring sets in time for the Christmas mailing deadline. I am really looking forward to doing more work with her, growing her stunning sculptural pieces.

The start of the year has already been busy. Another funding bid has just gone in for Hope Cohousing. In two weeks, myself and a fellow Orkney returner are hosting a talk on Digital Marketing at the local gin distillery. Then another funding bid in (a 14 page business plan required for this) will conclude a busy month. 

As for the rest of the year, I have already made about a million new years resoloutions. Some house one’s... the renovation to make a flat in the back of the house..... Kitchen painted..... Veggie patch sorted..... Small holdings course attended....

Business one’s are mostly focussed on getting the broader Strategy Collective business really up and running as well as client one’s including breaking ground (literally) on the Hope Cohousing Project. 

Any way, Happy New Year! Hope you are happy, healthy and as busy as you want to be in 2020!!

[drunkenworgen]

📦 + a bottlecap + one of those snakes in a can.

Send 📦 + an object for my muse to react to getting that object as a present in the mail.

(Accepting!)

Gin poes at the bottle cap with her dagger before flipping it up to inspect it.  It seemed like an ordinary enough bottlecap, but why it was in a package with a can labeled “peanut brittle” was beyond her.  She shrugged, putting the cap on the table to look at later before picking up the can to sniff at it.  Her eyes narrowed, squinting at the can suspiciously.  It smelled nothing of peanut brittle, but at least it wasn’t ticking.

So that meant Fizz didn’t send it.  Maybe.

Against her better judgement, she opened the can away from her face, jumping a little when the snakes sprange out before a slow grin spread across her face.  “Thank ya, whoever sent me more prankin’ gear…”

( @the-real-arcanist-val )