#no clue what meme this is from *shrug emoji*

[metalarmmantm-archive]

❛ where did you learn that from? ❜

Bucky quirks an eyebrow as his lips pull up in a smirk. “Been doing some..” He pauses to lick his lips, looking in to Steve’s eyes in a challenge. “Research. Don’t you like it?”

[hivequest]

Taking a Risk » Mallek Adalov/Reader

Wordcount: 2.3k words

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, stressed out reader, chillboy Mallek. TYping quirk only used when texting cause I could not be bothered lmao Originally posted on AO3

A/N: One of my favorite things that I’ve written, ever. I love Mallek and he’s for sure one of my favorite Friendsim characters. When I wrote this I was really feeling those Quarantine Woes

You didn't know what you were doing here. You felt out of place in the worst possible ways. It was a weird, squidgy feeling like stepping on wet grass. But not like the fun kind where you were running around in a sprinkler on a hot-as-balls summer day. No, this was the bad kind of wet grass that you stepped on without knowing it was wet. Why weren't you wearing shoes?

This analogy is stupid. The point is, you're feeling bummed out.

And what better way to not have to deal with that than hang out with someone you knew wouldn't push you into talking about all the ways crashing on this planet sucked! The point is, you're on your way to see Mallek. Mallek is absolutely the kind of friend who can tell when you just need to sit down and veg out. You had been so caught up in everyone else's bullshit that you weren't looking after your own damn self. So now you were doing that.

All it took was a quick text, asking Mallek if he had any company. He texted back only a moment later with a no, obviously not. You asked him if he wanted any. Not really. You ask him if you can come over anyway. Obviously.

You smiled at the palmhusk in your, well, palm. You could already feel the chill vibes of your hacker friend. Friend? Was that the right word for it? You didn't know anymore. When you first met there were definitely some sparks there. You could still feel them now and it made weird butterflies flutter around in your stomach. When you slapped his phone out of his hand and he sent you ass over applecart into the slimy depths of sewer water and he saved you, tits out and all.

You shook off the weird wistful feeling of maybe possibly crossing the friendship barrier and told him you'd walk to his hive. You'd been moping in some bookhive, not your usual hang-out spot with Tagora or Tyzias. This was some upper caste bookhive with purple bloods and some indigos and definitely not where you were welcome if the looks you were getting were any indication. They ranged from snooty to downright murderous. Yeesh.

Your phone -palmhusk, stupid troll names- beeped again. You got another text from him and those cheery fucking butterflies were back. God, you had it bad.

yeah were not doing that lmao;

im not going to let my robobuddy walk out in the sun

do you even know what time of day it =

just stay put ive already got your location ill pick you up;

And like a good little friendsimp. You park your ass on a chair and wait. You hadn't released your moping had taken up most of the night. But with the quick look around, yeah, no, this place was nearly empty by now. Just some older bluebloods trying to cram before their Ordeals and get shipped off-planet. Again: Yeesh.

You kept your ears open for the telltale sound of Mallek's limo. It was a sound you were getting used to these days. He always seemed ready to drop whatever coding shit he was working on to come to see you. You tried not to think too hard on what that might mean. No need to get your hopes up now. It's probably just your bad mood making you imagine some context where there's nothing. Yeah.

Damn, that shit hurted.

Just as you were about to add that to the reasons you were considering just screaming your lungs out who cares whose listening? you heard the wonderfully familiar sound of an approaching elongated scuttlebuggy. If that wasn't enough of a clue as to who the ride was for the quiet of the bookhive was very abruptly disturbed by a series of rhythmic beeps.

Holy shit was that the Tetris theme?

You shoved your palmhusk into your hoodie pocket and yanked the hood over your head. Even if the sun was only out a little bit you didn't want it anywhere near your freshly healed skin. You had no kind cowgirl to nurse you back to health right now if you got your asscheeks baked by the flaming death orb. You peeked your head out and even with the blinding light of Alternia's suns you could Mallek had opened the door and was waiting for you.

Aw. No, shit. You're in a bad mood don't get all heart eyes at him. Don't make it weird.

You took a few steps back into the bookhive, ready to make a run for it. You turn to a sitting indigoblood, who is just staring at you disdainfully for keeping the door open. You give her a two-fingered salute. Godspeed young cosmonaut. She gives you a one-fingered salute. Close the door you insufferable bulgebiter. Fair.

Taking a running start, you book it out into the heat of the Alternian sun and dive for the open car door. It's then that you realize he's halfway parked on the sidewalk to lessen the amount of time you'd have to spend in the sun. Aw. That also means that you came barreling like a cannonball at something that was like two feet out of the door. FUck.

Your face meets carpet and you can already feel the rugburn starting to set in. You hear a startled wheezy laugh from above you, a sound you know better than anyone else on this planet. You smile. It's not like you had any dignity to begin with.

You say hello to him as you peel yourself off of the floor of his car.

"Hey, there robobuddy. You stuck the landing this time," He smiles down at you as he reaches over you to shut the door, closing the space out from natural light and leaving you both lit by his colorful LEDs. You shrug and tell him you've been getting a lot of practice landing on your face these days. The look he gives you is still smiling but there's some level of disbelief at the dumbassery that is your whole existence.

"I know you can get yourself into it. Nothing too bad this time, though, right? No drones or broken bones?" He sounds concerned which is nice but he doesn't drown you with his concern. He leans back on the bench of his limo, keeping an eye on you as the vehicle begins to move on its own. You've been staying out of big messes but the little messes are starting to mess with you. He makes a sound of understanding the sounds as it comes from deep in his chest. Whoa. "Believe me, I've been there. Glad you're not cracking under it though."

He smiles and you can see his little fang and you can feel your heart melt a little. And also you're getting a bit teary-eyed and now Mallek looks alarmed. Shit. You try to quickly explain that you're fine, just, alien allergies am I right? He must be using some new air freshener to mask the musty smell of his limo. Since doesn't use it enough. Ha ha?

He isn't buying it.

With a rare show of cerulean prowess, he lifts you up off of the shitty car rug and sets you on the seat beside him. He feels uncomfortable and you can tell. Ah, goddammit you made it weird. You didn't mean to. Fuck. Fuck now you're feeling even worse. You thought you were starting to balance out. You're with Mallek now, shouldn't everything start to quiet down like it always does? Fuck. He doesn't say anything at first, just leans back against the seat and stretches his arms across it, letting you lean on him if you choose to.

...You choose to.

Your head finds itself somewhere between his shoulder and his collarbone, and you just. Shove your face there. Then scream.

To his credit, Mallek doesn't even flinch. He doesn't wince or shy away from you as you let out every bit of anger, sadness, and frustration out against his sweater. He just sits quietly, staring straight at the blacked-out windshield. You get the feeling he's needed to do this more than once.

Screw this planet. Screw everything about it that makes all of your friends suffer. Why can't you just get them away from all this bullshit?! Why do you have to deal with everyone's bullshit! You love them, you do but holy fuck they're looking to you like you can undo all the damage this place has done to them when you've got literally no god damn idea what's happening at any point ever!

And then, just like that, it fades into the background. Your throat hurts. Your head hurts and you think you might be crying. But it feels lighter. Better now that you've gotten some of that aggression out. You aren't like the trolls on Alternia. You can't kill people when you experience an Emotion™. But that doesn't mean you don't get pent up with rage.

Mallek realizes that now. He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and his left hand slowly moves down from the back of the seat the rest against your back. His thumb brushes against your back, the claw drawing little patterns against the fabric of your sweater. His sweater. He tries not to think his sign your chest. This isn't the time.

"Feeling any better?" He asks and you don't know how to answer. You kinda don't want to. But you nod anyways, and you feel some tension leave his body. You knew he was worried about you. You apologize for making him witness your meltdown but he just makes another deep-chested hum. "Nothing to apologize for. I got the feeling you weren't feeling great. I could tell from the texts, you didn't use nearly enough ugly emojis."

You scoff and smack a hand against his chest and once again you hear that wonderful laugh from him. Hey! Your purrbeast emojis are adorable, thank you very much! And you'll not hear another word of it or else you'll send him pictures of rocks and rocks exclusively. No more memes.

"Jokes on you I'm into that shit." You laugh and thump your head against his collarbone. You thank him for being with you when were needed it. And picking you up to make sure you didn't deal with it alone. You don't want to make it weird but...yeah.

He doesn't respond this time, just letting you both enjoy the silence and the comforting sound of the engine. You should almost be at Mallek's apartment by now. It's as you're settling in for the last bit of the drive that you notice that the limo isn't moving. And hasn't been for a while. Your head pops up in confusion and the little GPS display on the back of one of the seats says... yep.

You're already at Mallek's.

But then why is the engine still on? That can't be good for the environment. Do these things even run on gas or is it bugs? Bug gas? Gross.

You notice then that the rumbling is coming from behind you. Like. From where Mallek is sitting. He doesn't look away when you turn to him, just kind of tilting his head to the side with a little bit of a cerulean hue to his cheeks. Oh. Oh, the sound is coming from him. He's purring. That's.

That's adorable.

You feel yourself soften even more when he lifts his arms, silently offering a hug if you want it. Is this platonic? Is this more? You've never had too much trouble identifying what people wanted from you. (Debatable.) If was overtly flushed you could shut it down or divert it to something very much friends only. (Like your every exchange with Zebruh.) But did you even want to do that to your hackerman? You could feel yourself screaming, no, absolutely not. But at the same time, you didn't want things to change. You didn't want to make his issues any worse than they already were. He didn't have too much longer on the planet and you knew it would tear him apart.

But then he turned those blue eyes to you. He looked just as unsure as you were but he was willing to take the risk. He shoved himself so far out of his comfort zone for you and was asking you to be selfish. To want something for yourself and do something for yourself. Not put him or anyone else's wants first. Just your own. And so you did.

You crawled up into his lap, pressed yourself as close to him as you could and clung to him. His arms didn't hesitate to wrap around you and you could feel a shuddering breath from above you.

"We don't have to put a label on this... not yet. Or ever. Either way is chill with me. I just... yeah." He gave up with a little shrug of his shoulders but you knew what he meant. Unless you could find a way to fight fate he was going to go off-world. He was going to leave you and you doubted you'd be able to go with him. You'd probably get gored by a drone for even trying.

But even if it was just for now, just for a moment, you were going to take it. You were going to let yourself have something, have someone who would care for you no matter how long or short your time was. You'd take it. You had stomached some of the most horrible things on this planet but Mallek had always been a constant. And you got the feeling he thought the same way about you.

So, you'd take it. Whatever comes next, you'd take it. You listened to the sound of his purring, in no hurry to move to get inside the apartment. Mallek felt the same.

You exhaled.

You would be okay.

[sybilius]

20 + 21 for the writing meme plstnx 👀👀👀

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

Since I haven’t thought about them publically for a while, let me ramble for a minute about the sheriff’s star in Sighted Crows in a Desert of Rime...

This is a funny one to get a little theory emoji over, because genuinely it was seeds I sowed in Chapter 1 and then forgot about it a bit in the middle, and went back and wove it through. Essentially, there’s a moment where Blondie pockets a sheriff’s star after a uh, very complicated and unhealthy sex encounter he has with Angel Eyes. It turns up again right after their fight in Ch 3, hurting Blondie’s finger, and again in the final chapter, where Blondie shoves it in the drawer. 

In some sense, the star is a symbol of Blondie’s own hanging on to childhood dreams/justice, and the fiction of that for him. It’s about the fact that he turns away from the fiction of being a “good person” and uses that narrative to hurt himself. It’s what makes him an interesting foil to Angel Eyes, someone who unflinchingly embraces being a “bad person” and sees that as his freedom. But in Angel Eyes projecting the narrative of “if you just let yourself be unflinchingly bad, you’d be free”, he misses that, well, Blondie does want to be good to people, which is in fact, a different thing from the false narrative of earning the sheriff’s star.

When Blondie throws the star in the drawer in the last chapter, he accepts that he doesn’t need that narrative anymore. He doesn’t need to taunt himself with the dream he failed to live up to, doesn’t need to punish himself by lapsing into criminal actions and living the way he “deserves” to. 

He’s not perfect, but he shows up for his community, for his lover, and yeah, ultimately for himself. He’s kind, and helpful, and has an essential role to play that doesn’t involve complicated questions of playing judge, jury and executioner. 

Putting that star away is like-- it’s thanking the dream for existing, yes. But it’s also shrugging it off and saying “this isn’t serving me anymore”. And I’m very proud of him for that <3

21. What other medium do you think your story would work well as? (film, webcomic, animated series?)

Podcast, I want to say! Not only is my work that Emotive Queer Brand(TM), it also has a lot of vivid narrators that are various shades of a little unreliable. It also can be very dialogue focused. I can imagine a few of my works that could possibly be translated to a radio drama, and a few that might work okay as a Alice Isn’t Dead style narrative. 

[explodoriot]

Tag Meme

I was tagged by @ruluxe, thank you!

1. name/nickname: jay

2. gender: the shrug emoji (like somewhere around the nb spectrum but generally i’m just vibin')

3. star sign: leo, which you will be able to tell immediately if you ever meet me

4. height: 169cm

5. time: 20.50

6. birthday: august 12th

7. favorite bands/groups: fall out boy, daughtry, panic! at the disco (which i know is a solo project these days but hey), grandrodeo, imagine dragons, all time low, marianas trench, haloo helsinki, glay

8. favorite solo artists: lady gaga, halsey, juha tapio, owl city, jenni vartiainen, and a thing that will get me disowned from the queer community: ed sheeran

9. song stuck in my head: peace sign by kenshi yonezu

10. last movie: honestly no fucking clue, does a two-hour youtube video count?

11. last show: the untamed

12. when did i create this blog: 2013, but i didn’t start posting until 2014, and then i fucked off for a while early 2017 and now i just come sporadically back for a few months once in a while

13. what do i post: anime (i was originally a sports anime trash blog, rip. these days mostly bnha and a random assortment of other things i like), some activist stuff, lots of gay shit, a bunch of personal complaining

14. last thing i googled: a local vet clinic’s phone number

15. other blogs: @glitterpiraija (finnish blog), @flaminglollipops (miscellanious and aesthetics), @queerheda (writing blog, it’s another main blog so if i’m not here i’m probably there)

16. do i get asks: rarely. on my writing blog i get weekly hate mail though

17. why i chose my url: fandom switch from sports anime to bnha, bakugou is my babe and kiribaku is my religion

18. following: 235

19. followers: 632

20. average hours of sleep: 4-ish, sometimes 12 (after i’ve pulled like two allnighters within a week and otherwise slept about 4-5 hours a night for a while)

21. lucky number: 7

22. instruments: i’ve been playing the violin for 15 years, i can technically play the piano and the guitar, i can probably still play the flute, and my main is my voice. i could probably learn the basics of most instruments pretty fast

23. what am i wearing: black leggings with a teal pattern, pastel-colored woolen socks that are so long they almost come up to my crotch, plain gray t-shirt, and the warmest woolen cardigan (finland is cold and so is my apartment okay)

24. dream job: makeup artist

25. dream trip: iceland

26. favorite food: homemade pizza

27. nationality: finnish

28. favorite song: right now hajimari no uta by glay

29. last book i read: i legitimately have no memory of when i last finished a book

30. top three fictional universes: 1) soul eater, 2) hunter x hunter, 3) soul eater

Tagging: @meanderfall @crimsonlions @oikawatooruinedmylife @chaotic-inattentive @hullunkuriton

[kangofu-cb]

2, 21, 25!

It’s possible the last ask was actually from this meme since it has more than 20 questions so anyway who knows *shrug emoji* also you did not clarify if 25 was a specific fic so maybe it was from a long-lost meme I can’t find. Doing my best here guys, on this, the worst day of the year. 

2. Do you participate in any writing events or challenges throughout the year? If so, what do you like about them? 

I answered this previously, but the answer has changed a smidge so I am answering it again!

Historically I participate in way too many events and challenges, and 2020 was meant to be The Year Of No Events because I was going to Only Write For Me, but this pandemic has really thrown a wrench in all my writing plans, so I definitely still signed up for several a few things.  I did the @winterhawkbigbang, @charityhawktion, and the @winterhawkremix.  I am also co-modding and playing during the @winterhawkwonderland holiday exchange again this year! Four events is Not TOO Bad for me, who historically signs up for and/or runs All The Events.  Taking a small step back has been good for me, even if sometimes it makes me feel a little like I’m irrelevant to fandom because my production value is lowered. 

I like events because I feel like it helps to build fandom community in a way that is very difficult/impossible on Tumblr which has lost the nested comments and community functions of LiveJournal. On Tumblr it’s so difficult to interact meaningfully with other people in your fandom, and I find Discord really overwhelming most of the time, so participating in community events is a good way to ‘meet’ people and get to know them and make something nice for them, so I enjoy that. 

21. What is the one fic that got away?

Access Denied, probably. 

I really want to finish this.

I do. 

But also I’ve lost a lot of the notes that went along with it (I ported my old gdrive into a new fandom gdrive at the beginning of the year and half my shit got lost, which should have been my first clue that 2020 was going to be a clusterfuck) so I’m kind of at a stuck point where I’m like where am I? what am I doing here? where was I going?

Maybe one day.  But it was meant to be an AmeriWinterHawk modern AU with skinny anarchist hacker Steve, SHIELD agent Clint, and Recovering (they hit him in the head) Winter Soldier Bucky. 

25. Which idea came to you first in [x fic]? (You did not pick a fic, assuming I found the correct meme, so if you let me know which fic, I will answer accordingly but in the meantime, I will talk about the idea for a current WIP)

for the werewolf fic I just really, really, really wanted two things

1. Clint being like ‘you think I fall off buildings and survive because of LUCK?’

2. Clint aggressively snuggles Bucky until he’s not an anxious, ridiculous mess, except plot twist they both get attached and then become anxious, ridiculous messes, but in a new and different way. 

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

two years too late, chapter t h r e e 

You were sitting at your desk on Monday morning when the message came through. Alyssa’s name lit up your screen, the house emoji sat beside the small letters as your hand jerked forward to grab it out of habit. 

Alyssa (10:21am): THERE’S A PHOTO OF US AND HARRY

Alyssa (10:21am): Can’t see our faces tho don’t worry

Alyssa (10:22am): Just the back of your head and my ear, really

Shit, shit, shit. 

She’d attached the picture and sent it: your arm, your hand, your hair. Alyssa’s ear and jaw, Erica’s leather jacket and unmistakably, Harry’s shoulders and back. You looked it over again, studying the image as you pinched it to zoom in. 

You couldn’t tell that was you. No way. Unless your mother or sister was looking, Jessie and Bryn might not even be able to tell. It was dark and the quality of the picture was poor but you could definitely see that you had a drink in your hand. You could also see that you were stood remarkably close to Harry. 

Fuck. 

You took a deep breath, hoping to steady your pulse and ignore the way your vision was blurry in the corners. 

“Question!” 

“Jesus!” You exclaimed, looking up quickly to see a startled Whitney with her hand on her chest--just as alarmed by your reaction as you’d been by her presence. “Sorry, hi.” You dropped your phone quickly, letting it crash down to your desk. 

“Sorry, oh my god,” she let out a big breath, rebounding from the adrenaline as a laugh escaped her lips. “I was just hoping we could meet later. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“No, m’sorry--you just--proper scared me,” you said, leaning back in your chair and blinking a few times--your heart still catching up with your brain.

“Your performance review is overdue,” she said. “We were supposed to do it at the six month mark, but you know how things are,” she waved a hand to dismiss the timeline. 

“Sure, yeah. After lunch?”

“Two-thirty? We can meet in my office.”

“I’ll come to you,” you nodded, offering confirmation before she turned to walk away. 

You picked up your phone again quickly, new messages from Alyssa coming in faster than you could read them. 

Alyssa (10:24am): OKAY just kidding there’s one of your face. Blurry though!!!!

Alyssa (10:24am): From down below. Someone must have taken it looking up to the balcony where we were?

Alyssa (10:25am): You would never know that was you

She was trying to reassure you, trying to keep your heart from beating out of your chest as all of the thoughts flooded through your brain like a tsunami, waves quick and forceful. 

Okay, so it wasn’t like knowing Harry was the end of the world. You’d been doing that for nearly 13 years and you’d managed fine enough. The problem, as you saw it, was more along the lines that your employer and coworkers had no clue that someone your website wrote about frequently was recently spending his nights on your couch with a glass of wine in hand. 

Something about that sounded weird, and you were sure that Whitney wouldn’t go for it. 

You pulled up the new photo, holding the screen uncomfortably close to your face to study the grainy pixels. Of course--the one moment that he slung his arm around your shoulders was the one this person had chosen to capture. 

Y/N L/N (10:26am): Where are these? Can we get the person to take them down?

Alyssa (10:26am): They came up on my instagram explore tab. Random fan accounts. 

Y/N L/N (10:27am): Fuck. 

Alyssa (10:27am): I don’t think you should worry. They’re so blurry you can’t even tell if you’re a man or woman. 

Y/N L/N (10:28am): Great even better!

You dropped your phone into your desk drawer after telling Alyssa to keep an eye on the photos. She was right: they were blurry. You were hoping with everything in your soul that Carly was too busy to even check the internet today (unlikely, seeing as your job relied on that), or if she did, that she’d be too excited about the new gossip to even pause and consider the fact that the hair in the photo looked an awful lot like yours.

So you waited. You contemplated sneaking out to meet Alyssa for lunch, taking a look for yourself at the accounts that had uploaded the photos. You decided against it, though, when you realized that your absence might make you look even more suspicious. Flying under the radar as much as possible seemed like a good option. 

You kept your head in your work: a list about the funniest memes about Christmas, a quick round up of the weekend’s best celebrity tweets. You heated up your lunch and ate at your desk, hoping to avoid Carly at all costs.

You were successful up until you slipped into the kitchen on your floor to fill up your water bottle, hoping to blend in to the late-lunch crowd. Carly stood with her back to you, but soon turned around, her festive red sweater made her hard to miss. Upon meeting eyes with her, you looked down to your watch, pretending as if you’d suddenly remembered a meeting you were late for. 

You weren’t one to shy away from confrontation, but this one didn’t feel totally work appropriate. 

“Haven’t seen you all day,” she said, pulling her lunch from the microwave before offering a smile. “Busy or what?”

“Swamped,” you lied, pushing your water bottle up to the cooler in defeat, the bracelets on your wrist clinking together. “Ate at my desk, been pretty productive, so s’all good.”

“Feels busy around here in general. Christmas and shit,” she shrugged. “There was breaking news this morning that Harry went out on a date this weekend. I don’t know if you saw it--pictures and everything,” she wiggled her eyebrows as if you’d bite at the bait. 

You licked at your dry lips, a heat rising to your cheeks. “Really?”

She nodded, grabbing a napkin from the counter. “Can’t even tell who it is, probably some random model or something. I doubt it’s hard to find someone to sleep with when you’re Harry Styles, though, so--” she turned to head back towards her desk, calling over her shoulder. “Come find me later, we’ll grab a coffee and do edits together!”

You promised you would, thankful for the fact that she was an hour behind her target for the day and still hadn’t eaten. It gave you time to gain composure as you wove through cubes and conversations to make your way to Whitney’s corner office with sweeping city views. 

A sunny and cold day on the other side of the glass windows reminded you that winter was here--the small amount of snow left reflected sunlight like a broken mirror on the ground. Whitney had a folder on her desk and waved you in when you knocked, cell phone up to her ear.

She ended the call and thanked you for making the time, telling you to shut the door behind you, affording privacy to your conversation about your numbers and pay and overall transition into The Scoop. 

You told Whitney that you thought it was going well--you felt up to speed with the platform the website used, felt like you were staying on top of your category (even if it wasn’t your favorite). She complimented you on your ability to use humor in your stories and on social media platforms to enhance the mission of the website, she even said you’d been the second top writer for this quarter. 

“Rarely happens with someone so new,” she smiled, leaning back in her chair as she crossed her legs. “But be real with me--are you liking it? What do you wish was different? Any big fears?”

You bit at your lip, contemplating whether or not to disclose your desire to cover more news. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful or entitled, but you also trusted Whitney to handle any feedback you threw her way. “I mean, I guess I’d be interested in doing some more long form stories. Editorials or something.”

She nodded, waiting to see if you had more to say. When you let your lips press back together in a thin line, she offered a small smile. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind,” she told you, her tone made it sound like she was letting you down easy. “Gabrielle does most of the editorial pieces and Carly handles a lot of the pop culture news stuff that comes up for the entertainment department.”

You nodded--you knew the hierarchy. Gabrielle had been here longer than both you and Carly combined. She was only a step or two below Whitney and she seemed to sniff out good stories like it was second nature. She almost never wrote a flop. 

“Yeah, no, sorry, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” you said, already regretting the words that you’d let slip.

“You’re not ungrateful,” Whitney said. “You’re looking for more growth. I like that. I’ll certainly keep it in mind, Y/N.”

“I do have a random question,” you said suddenly, the four walls of Whitney’s office feeling like a safe enough place to play out a scenario of what ifs. 

“Yeah?”

Whitney--as hip as she was--likely wasn’t paying attention to every waking detail of Harry’s life. You doubted she saw the photos and you figured you could be vague enough in your question. 

“Has anyone here ever had a conflict of interest issue?”

“Conflict of interest?” Whitney spoke the phrase like she didn’t know what it meant. You knew she did, so you gave an example. 

“Yeah, like, has anyone ever used their own tweets in a story or promoted a friend’s band or--I dunno, been friends with a celebrity that we cover?”

She let out a laugh, as if all of the examples were far fetched and unlikely. “I mean,” she shrugged. “Candace from beauty one time got in trouble downstairs for doing a whole write up on a makeup brand her sister was COO of,” she clenched her jaw and grimaced. “But no one up here--you’re all smarter than that.”                    

Right. Okay. So there was that.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Oh, just curious,” you waved a hand in the air, letting a forced laugh out as you looked out the window. “Sounds like a shit show.”

“Yeah--I mean, she got in trouble, but they figured it out. Anything else? I’ve got all of your stuff to proof before I head out early for yoga.”

“Nope, all good on this end.” You stood and gathered your water bottle and notebook. 

Whitney reopened her laptop and checked her phone. “Thanks for meeting with me, Y/N. We love you here and you’ve been a rockstar.”

You offered her a smile, appreciative of the praise and encouragement. Once she let her eyes fall back to her computer, you hurried over to your desk, reaching for your phone and praying that the photo hadn’t traveled any father. 

You composed a quick message to Harry. 

Y/N (3:17pm): Coming to yours when I’m out of work. We need to talk. 

**

The one problem about going to Harry’s after work was that he wasn’t home. So instead of storming into his apartment like you’d imagined, you had to wait patiently in a strange hallway in a big office building in Midtown. 

You checked your watch obsessively. You’d only been there for seven minutes so far, but it still felt like too long. You were rehearsing the words in your head, tiny fragments of an argument playing out before you even had the chance to tell him about the photos or the anxiety that came with them. 

You had no clue where you were. He’d sent another pin of his location and told you to text him when you arrived. A man at the front desk swiped a card for you to enter and instructed you to head to the 49th floor. So here, in another indistinguishable hallway (this time without a neon green wall), you waited. 

“Hi, hey,” his voice sounded from a doorway behind you, your body instinctively moving in the direction of his voice before you even locked eyes. “Everything okay, what’s wrong?”

His arms tried to envelope you, but before they could, you put a hand up to his chest. “We have to talk.”

“Okay,” he drew the syllables out, his head dipping to the side as he looked past your shoulder. “Come with me,” he took your hand and pulled you back towards where he came. Through a doorway, past a few people. A fitting, you realized. He was at some sort of wardrobe fitting. 

People stirred at tables beside you, yellow measuring tapes draped around their necks and white chalk stained their fingertips. He offered a smile to one woman in particular, one who seemed to be more interested in your presence than the others. He pulled you towards the other side of the room, your palm sweaty from the touch of his skin and the swirling desire in your head--the kind you tried (but failed) to ignore. 

Eventually you were in a back stairwell--one that was similar to the hiding spot you’d found last week at work. The door shut behind you, and Harry leaned his head out to ensure that no one was around to eavesdrop, he turned to offer you his full attention. “Alright, go.”

“Did you see the pictures of us?”

“Pictures?”

“Pictures.”

“No.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for your phone in your pocket, pulling up Alyssa’s message and opening the two attachments she’d sent. “These.” You flipped it around to let his eyes scan over them.

He hummed and took the phone in his hand, the other reaching to rub the back of his neck. “I take it you’re not happy about it.”

His eyes raised to meet yours, your voice faltering as you spoke. “I--no, I just--I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to work where I work and be photographed with you.”

“Because of your friend?”

Carly--he meant Carly.

“No, not because of Carly. Because of me. It’s a conflict of interest, Harry. I can’t be your friend and potentially have to write a list about the ten funniest things you’ve ever said in interviews!”

He cracked a smile at this, but it faded altogether when you squinted up at him. 

“Alright,” he cleared his throat. “I mean, it’s blurry,” he brought your phone back to his face and inspected it more. “You can barely tell that’s you. If I didn’t know what you look like, I wouldn’t even guess.”

You swallowed, wondering if he ever studied your features like you did his. The dip in his top lip, the way his eyes crinkled at the sides when he laughed. 

“What’s the big deal, anyway? We’ve been friends forever, a lot of people do know that, you know.”

You couldn’t help but pull a face at his words. Friends forever? You corrected him. “Friends who haven’t had regular contact for the last, like, six years. Haven’t spoken at all in the last two.”

He let a breath out, one that told you he was bothered or angry or something. “Because I thought that’s what you wanted!”

You took a step back from him, suddenly overwhelmed as a thousand questions burrowed their way into your mind. “Whatever--I don’t even want to,” you cut yourself off. You weren’t ready to dig up the details of December 29th or launch into a conversation regarding the untethering of your friend group. “I just--I can’t fuck this job up, it’s a really good job.” 

“You’re not going to fuck it up, Smalls!” His words were harsh now despite the use of your nickname, his eyes wider than before as he tried to reassure you. “It’s just a photo. No one will know that’s you. We’ll just be careful.”

It didn’t feel that easy. 

“I mean, it might get you more reads, y’know.” A laugh tumbled out of his mouth with ease, a complete lack of awareness of the weight his words held. You pulled your eyes up to look at him, a heat in your chest present that he hadn’t ever ignited before. At least, not in the angry sense. 

“Are you implying that being friends with you will further my career and that I should be thankful for that?”

“No, I didn’t--I just mean that people love to read your stuff anyway. S’hilarious. If people knew that we were friends, that would make people really interested in you--more than they already are,” he tried to soften his words, flatten out the intention as if he hadn’t meant what he said. 

You shook your head, your gaze on the cement floor as you wondered why you even answered his text four days prior. Now, as the sun tried to peek through the dirty sliver of a window in the stairwell, answering felt like it was a bad choice. 

“I--okay, Harry--I’ll see you around,” you turned on one foot, hand on the doorknob before he could get in front of you. 

**

Monday, December 11th

Harry S (11:34pm): I’m sorry about today. I wasn’t trying to be a dick. 

Harry S (11:46pm): Sleep well

Tuesday, December 12th

Harry S (10:19am): What are you up to after work?

Friday, December 15th

Harry S (1:15pm): Alright. You’re mad. I get it. I was a dick.

Harry S (1:15pm): Can we please talk?

You always wished you were strong willed. You could be, in a lot of ways. Like the time you and Jessie took a painting class and you were complete shit. You spent hours researching the right brushes for the right types of paint and eventually, you figured it out. The summer heat back home turned sticky as you’d paint in your bedroom at night, a fan blowing sweet relief until you’d climb into cool sheets. 

Or even the time you’d decided to stand up to Holly McAdams in Year 3 when she told everyone that you had cooties. The playground went silent when you called her a liar and told her to put her energy towards good instead of evil. 

But when it came to Harry--you’d never been so lucky. He always had a charm about him that seemed to seep into your brain and turn it all to mush, tiny roots that wrapped around your neurons and seemed to rewire you entirely. Which is why, on Friday afternoon, you finally broke and called him on your commute home.

“Hi,” you said into the phone, holding onto the handrail in your subway car as it rounded a corner. The reception was shitty underground, but you committed yourself to the phone call and would recognize a dropped signal as a sign from the universe that it wasn’t meant to be. 

“Hi,” he said. 

You waited, unsure if he’d launch into an apology or let you take the first step. Silence.

“Sorry I’ve been ignoring you. I was busy at work and I fucked up a list and Whitney has been out sick--” you realized you were doing it. You were apologizing when you hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d been the one to fuck up and now you were apologizing? You back tracked. “And yeah, I mean, you were a dick, so.”

He laughed, the sound immediately easing some of the tension between you. “I get that. I’m sorry--I should have known that you’re not,” he paused. A woman beside you sneezed into her elbow, you inched away from her to avoid contamination, sandwiched between strangers. “You’re not impressed by the fame,” he spoke dramatically, your lips involuntarily twitching towards the sky--or, in your current situation, the ground above.

“I’m sure not. Never have been, never will be.”

“Are you out of work now?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

You let out a sigh, you’d been dreaming about it all day. “Nothing--I’m going to sit on my couch and eat a bowl of cereal and pray that I don’t catch whatever is going around the office. I already kind of have a sore throat and I’m not trying to be sick for Christmas.”

“Well,” he laughed. “I wish you the best with that, then.”

A tangle of disappointment in your gut when he didn’t ask you to hang out. 

“Thanks. I’ll--uh--talk to you later?”

“Yeah, Smalls, talk to you later.”

You hung up, sliding your phone back into your pocket and shrinking into your coat for the remainder of the ride. When you climbed the twenty three steps to ground level at your stop, the sun had already sunk below the skyline, traces of light sneaking between the buildings on your block. 

Alyssa had worked from home for the day, turning the living room into an office as she sat sprawled out on the couch. She’d also been coming down with something--her nose red and dry from all of her tissue use. 

“Hi,” she greeted, pulling out her headphones and looking up at you when you came through the door, the room once again lit with the glow of Christmas lights. “How was work?”

“Fine, long, T-G-I-F,” you laughed. “How do you feel?”

“Somewhat better. Still crappy, though. How’s your throat?”

You dropped your purse to the floor and hung up your coat. “Worse than this morning. I talked to Harry though.”

She pulled her earbuds out and grinned up at you. “Was he so apologetic? I feel like he’d feel so guilty knowing he upset you--”

You shot her one of those looks: the kind that told her she was getting too wrapped up in his charm and fame and good looks. 

She cleared her throat. “But he was a dick so he should feel guilty.”

You kicked your shoes off, the leather of your boots falling against the wood floor before you settled into the couch. “He was apologetic--but it was quick. Who knows when I’ll see him next, maybe when we’re home.”

Alyssa bit her tongue--you could see that she had something to say but you didn’t press it, unsure if you had the emotional energy for a conversation about why being friends with Harry again wasn’t the smartest idea. 

She looked back to her screen, finishing up a few emails as you sunk into the couch, your eyes glued to your phone as you read through comments on the picture of you and Harry. 

I bet she’s just a friend--they look totally platonic. 

HE’S TOTALLY DATING SOMEONE! 

Skjdhfkjdshfkjdhk!!!!

The picture is way too fucking grainy how are we supposed to sleuth this one out?!

Alyssa sighed and closed her laptop. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Ugh,” you let out a groan, exiting out of instagram quickly to avoid showing her the things people were saying. If you had to guess, you’d say that Alyssa had a similar nightly ritual over the past few days. Wash her face, brush her teeth, climb into bed and read what strangers were saying about you online. 

The only good thing, really, was that people didn’t know it was you. 

“I’m not in the mood to cook,” you said.

As soon as the words left your mouth, your phone buzzed on the coffee table, the same obnoxious picture of Harry in an apron lighting up the screen as you both brought yours eyes down to the buzzing technology, then back up to each other. 

“Answer it,” she said excitedly, her lips curling towards the ceiling. 

You shot her a look as you reached for it. “Not on the first ring--can’t seem too eager.”

“As if you’re not eager,” she teased, returned the eye roll pleasantry, pulling a laugh from you as you answered the call. 

“Hi,” you said quickly, pressing the speaker phone button and holding it in the air between the two of you on the couch. 

“Hey--I’m following protocol and giving you a warning that I’ll be over in like--eh--four minutes.”

“What?” You asked. “Why?”

Alyssa looked around the room nervously, taking an inventory of the items that were hers. She sprung into action quickly, trying to declutter her home-office--notebooks, sharpies, her glasses and tissues were spread out around the living room space. 

“I’ve got food. Figured you wouldn’t want to cook if you weren’t feeling well.”

Alyssa stopped dead in her tracks, turning to you with her hands over her heart and lips in a lovestruck frown, completely enchanted by his words. You lifted your middle finger in her direction before turning towards the back of the sofa. Alyssa headed into her bedroom.

“You don’t have to do that, I mean--thank you, obviously, but, I totally get it if you’re busy.”

“M’not,” he said simply. “Stuff is dying down now anyway since we’re leaving soon.” You noticed his pronoun choice, casually dropped into the sentence as he kept talking. “I’ll wait until the coast is clear, alright? Just buzz me in when I text you.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Alright.”

Alyssa popped back into the room when she heard you hang up, her brows raised suggestively.

“What?” You asked, your tone slightly defensive as she pulled her head through the neck of her sweatshirt. 

“Just, interesting, is all. Awfully sweet of him.”

You stood from the couch, watching as she bent over once more to gather more of her belongings from the area rug below. “Oh come off it,” you said.

She pulled a face, confused by your slang as she reached for a pen that had wandered beneath the coffee table. 

“S’not a big deal,” you edited your words so she’d understand. “We’re friends.”

She hummed in disagreement, you trailed behind her towards her bedroom, socked feet gliding along the hard wood. Alyssa’s room was dark, the beige walls covered in posters of bands and movies. Her bed was unmade and the floor was littered in clothing of days past. 

You leaned against the doorframe. “How could you think we’re anything more than that after hearing the full story of what happened that night?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, giving you a dismissive look. “S’been a while, things change. You don’t just bring food to your sick friend.”

“Sure you do,” you narrowed your eyes at her. “That’s exactly what friends do, Lyss.”

She picked up a shirt from the floor and folded it into quarters. “Just seems like there’s always been chemistry. One shitty night--as embarrassing as it was--doesn’t mean there’s not chemistry.”

You thought on her words, careful to not let them settle too deep in your heart. They floated in the air in front of you, vanishing altogether when an electric buzz leaked through the intercom by the door.

You ran over--quick to make sure he could sneak in undetected--and held a thumb to the button to grant him entrance. 

Seventy-three seconds until there was a knock on the door, a pizza in his hand, and a bottle of wine pulled from the shelf in the kitchen. Alyssa--who was never one to turn down some Pinot Noir--had chosen the nicest bottle you had. A gift from her mother when she got a promotion. 

Eventually, the three of you were sat around the coffee table, throw pillows serving as seats as you reached for second slices. Music drifted from the small speaker on the bookshelf, the scene similar to that of last weekend, except this time Alyssa was here. It was funny how things with Harry could feel exactly the same as they’d once been, yet entirely different in the same breath.

“Did she ever tell you about the time that we stayed up all night at Jessie’s house when we were fourteen because of some stupid internet challenge?”

Alyssa pulled a smile, her eyes darting over to me quickly. “Of course she didn’t.”

“S’cause it was stupid. You’re the one who barely made it. Everyone else was fine but when five AM came you were seriously dragging.”

He contorted his face into one of mock-offense. “Excuse me for having good sleep hygiene and a healthy need for some shut-eye.”

“You guys were allowed to have co-ed sleepovers at fourteen?” Alyssa asked, holding a hand up in student fashion. She folded her pizza in half, a boat of cheese and grease and pepperoni. 

You let out a laugh, knowing that Harry’d want to explain the mastermind plan that he and Adam had come up with nearly ten years ago. 

“So we did this thing, where the girls would tell their mums that they were at someone’s house. So they’d say they were at Bryn’s, but Bryn would say she was at Y/N’s,” he smiled in your direction--the adrenaline of lying to your parents came back as a small wave, less exciting than in times past but still enough to keep a grin plastered to your face. 

“And the guys would do the same. We always said we were at Adam’s though--and I dunno what Adam would say cause his parents never asked any questions. So then we’d go to Jessie’s because her parents were always away for work, and--yeah, madness would ensue.”

“S’where we first drank, pretty sure that’s where Adam finally called Sophie Kneeland and asked her out over the phone.”

“S’also where Smalls blacked out the first time when we were fifteen or sixteen,” he let out a laugh and turned to Alyssa. 

Her eyes went wide as she folded her legs beneath her. Your stomach dropped though, seeing as now didn’t feel like a good time to recount all the times you’d done stupid things when you were drunk. You could probably spend hours on that topic alone. 

“Okay--alright, anyway,” you said, clearing your throat quickly. A car horn beeped outside, momentarily shattering the safety of the cozy room. 

“Hey, also,” Harry wiped at his mouth with a napkin and pointed a finger at your roommate. “Did you appreciate my warning--a whole five minutes!”

“Four,” you said, his eyes rolling in response to your correction. 

“Better than zero,” Alyssa nodded, taking a sip of wine. “Maybe we can work you all the way up to asking before you show up,” she teased.

Harry frowned at this. A dimple appeared in his cheek and he looked over to you quickly. “I brought food--” his gaze drifted back to Alyssa. “And enough for you, if you forgot.”

“You should have seen her cleaning up all her shit in here,” you laughed. “Notebooks every where, like a bomb went off.”

“I was working,” she defended. “What did you do today, Harry?”

“Hmm,” he thought aloud. “Woke up at eight--went to the gym. Showered and finalized the set list for the next leg of tour. Had a meeting with my manager and PR team about what’s coming up after the holidays. Lunch, then I had to go back to a fitting for more wardrobe stuff. Talked with Erica about the flight home, side note,” he looked to you. “Then I got your call and decided to come here.”

You were both quiet for a second--Alyssa had been challenging him, her assumption that he’d had a quiet day that couldn’t have nearly been as busy as hers. He took a deep breath and took a swig of wine. 

You knew that he was busy--you’d always assumed that being famous came with plenty of downfalls and responsibilities, but hearing them all listed out in succession without a breath in between made induced a wave of guilt to pass through your veins. 

Of course it was hard for him to keep in touch, if even his slower days looked like that. 

“But about the flight,” he pointed a finger at you and then set his wine glass down. “Two tickets on the red eye for the 20th. I’d say we could charter something but first class on the big planes is always really nice. They give you a free eye patch.”

“Eye patch?” Alyssa asked, her tone drifting up in confusion. 

“The ones you sleep with.”

“Eye mask,” you nodded.

“Oh whatever, you knew what I meant,” Harry squinted his eyes and reached for the bottle for a refill. 

“What do you mean a big plane, though? How big are we talking?”

“The double deckers--they have little cubbies in first class. Little doors and everything--super private, which is nice.”

“You fly on public planes?” Another question from Alyssa--your personal peanut gallery--as you watched Harry take the stopper out of the bottle before pouring more into his glass. 

“Yeah--s’better for the environment.”

Alyssa’s eyes went wide and she got that same look when he’d said he was bringing food--her brain and heart melting inside her, almost spilling out onto the oriental rug.

“Alyssa,” you said her name quickly as you stood from your orange and yellow throw pillow seat. “Want to help me with something in the kitchen?”

“What? What do you need help with?”

“Uh,” you looked around the room, trying to think on your feet. “The leftovers--the pizza.”

Harry, sat on the floor between the two of you, looked up. “I can help.”

“No.” You said quickly. “You stay. Pick a new playlist,” you instructed, hoping that a responsibility would keep him occupied. You gave Alyssa a prompting look, causing her to reluctantly stand and follow you around the corner to the kitchen.

“Can you not with the faces?” You asked, turning around once you were shielded by the wall between the two rooms. “Any time he says something relatively endearing you look like you’re about to combust or orgasm or something.”

“If I was about to orgasm, you’d know it,” she smirked, her voice low and sultry as you rolled your eyes. You’d grabbed the pizza on your way, so you reached into a drawer for aluminum foil and then tossed the box into the garbage.

“You get my point.”

“I do--but come on, Y/N! He’s literally acting like your boyfriend! Buying you a plane ticket even though you already have one? Bringing you dinner because you mentioned in passing that you weren’t feeling well? And now he’s climate conscious, too?!”

You passed her the foil-wrapped pizza and she put it into the fridge. A shrug of your shoulders, as if to dilute the air around you. 

“He’s alright,” you said, the words an act of self-defense, an antidote for the love potion Alyssa was verbally concocting. 

She rolled her eyes when she turned around to face you. “Relax, will you? It’s alright to be into him.”

“No it’s not, Alyssa,” you said, your voice more firm now. “You don’t know him, okay? You don’t know what happened back then and the way our friendship was and--just, leave it alone, alright?”

She paused, her eyes scanning your face, both of you staring at each other in silence. The kitchen clock ticked on the wall, seconds scattered through the room. 

Harry’s voice floated above the music from the other room, “some classic Christmas tunes, yeah?”

So you left it at that. There was no need to defend yourself more than you already had, the reasons stacking high as to why shouldn’t go down this road. Harry was on two feet in the living room, swaying back and forth to the music as Alyssa followed you back to the couch. 

You poured yourself another glass of wine, watching as he playfully took Alyssa’s hand, spinning her into his side as they waltzed in circles around the coffee table. 

**

You pulled your carryon closer to your body, wishing you could absorb it into your being as you forced your way past people already in line. Sorry, excuse me, sorry, thanks, gotta get by. 

The airport was busier than you expected. Your mum had told you on the phone that the afternoon would be the worst time of day, a wave of relief washing over you when you confirmed that Harry had booked the red eye. That relief vanished altogether when you stepped foot into the bustling airport, children running, intercoms beeping. 

Your passport was in your hand, the ticket slipped between pages filled with colorful stamps. An elbow into your stomach, you hiked the bag up your shoulder more. 

“I’m so sorry, hi, name is Y/N L/N, I was supposed to board already, uh--my friend is already seated I think.” 

The woman at the desk looked at you with an unimpressed stare, her fingers clicking on the keyboard as she held a hand out. You assumed she wanted your ticket, so you thumbed it out of the booklet and slapped it down. 

Her eyes scanned the paper before the computer did, when it beeped, the expression on her face changed. “Oh, Miss L/N,” she smiled up at you. “No worries, we can take you to your seat right now.”

“Oh, I can, I’ll just take myself,” you said awkwardly, looking around to see who else she was referring to. Other gate workers were nearby, clad in the traditional British Airways uniforms as the airport continued to buzz with Christmas cheer. Apparently flying first class had its perks.

And you would have already been seated if you’d just agreed to travel to the airport with Harry, but you had plenty of things to tie up at work before heading out for a whopping 12 days. It wasn’t typical to take so much time off in a role like yours, but Whitney was feeling generous and you’d agreed to work a few days remotely. 

So instead of sitting in the back of the same black Chevy Suburban with Roger narrating the drive, you’d crammed your suitcase into the trunk of an Uber and hoped that the traffic out to Long Island wasn’t impossible. 

It was. 

A man with a friendly smile took your bag from your shoulder, leading you around the counter and on to the jet way, veering left at the fork. The temperature shifted as you moved farther from the structure of the airport--the winter New York night seeping in through the cracks of the beige tunnel walls. Posters of happy travelers and airport workers smiled down on you, to fly, to serve. Their eyes watched you pad down the dull gray carpet towards the plane.

Smiles from flight attendants when you crossed the threshold, greeting you by name as your companion put an arm out, urging you in before him. 

The interior of the plane was dimly lit a calming blue--the windows shaded electronically, making them appear to be black eyes into the night. You passed a galley stocked with coffee, tea, British Airways water bottles, heading down an aisle past cushioned seats--ones much nicer than the economy class you were used to flying. You’d assumed this was your section--each seat had armrests big enough for giants--but you passed through a curtain to find a section of small cubicles, not much different than your office. 

One on each side, two in the middle. 

“Had to give up the window for you,” you heard a voice sound from two rows ahead. A dimpled smile looked your way, when you met his gaze, you shook your head. 

“This is incredible,” you looked around, taking in the sight of other suited men and bejeweled women settling in for the trip. “I didn’t even know shit like this existed.”

The man set the bag down on your seat, disappearing without a trace as Harry handed you something wrapped in plastic. “Your eye mask,” he delivered it with two hands, bowing his head to pull a giggle from your lips. 

“Seriously,” you took it from him and let out a huff as you pushed the bag to the floor, slumping into the extra-roomy chair. “This is absurd. The traffic was terrible and I almost thought they wouldn’t let me on.”

“Shoulda come with me,” he said simply, his tone almost melodic. “The club they let you wait in is even better.”

You looked around again, surprised that Harry was able to exist in peace in front of so many strangers. “I can’t believe you fly on these--you don’t get mobbed?”

He handed you a packaged piece of chocolate from a small cubby in the wall in front of your chairs. A flat screen stared back at you, your fingers tugging at the wrapper before plopping the candy into your mouth automatically.

“Not really--these people are all too busy with their own shit,” he motioned around the room, both of your eyes landing on a man who was animatedly speaking into his cell phone. “A few pictures, maybe. If we’re lucky we’ll sleep.”

You nodded, content for a moment to just catch your breath, take in the surroundings of first class, and just be. Harry reminded you of the plans you’d set with your friends: a reunion at the Red Lion on the 23rd. It’d be the six of you for sure, but there’d likely be others who you’d all invite--running into other classmates at Sainsbury’s or Costa wasn’t unheard of. 

You’d done the same thing in years past--your entire class heading for drinks and catch up conversations when everyone was back in town. The only difference was that this time, Harry would be tagging along. 

If anything, you were more nervous about the six of you being back together than you were about seeing people like Maddie Winslow or even Kenny Tilley. None of them knew about that night. Luckily--as obnoxious and outlandish as they could be--Jessie, Adam, Jake, and Bryn had managed to keep their mouths shut despite knowing the ins and outs of what had happened. 

Which, when you thought about it, meant Harry had, too. He hadn’t told anyone about the things you’d said or done. He didn’t rub it in your face or try to embarrass you in front of anyone else. The details of December 29th, 2015, would hopefully stay between the six of you for a long time to come.

After a good fifteen minutes on the runway, the plane was airborne. Estimated flight time six hours and thirty-five minutes, if we’re lucky, the captain said. You told Harry about your week and the things you’d rushed through this afternoon to leave work before 4pm. He laughed about the traffic and poked you in the shoulder when you rolled your eyes at him. 

Thirty minutes later he turned to look at you, a strand of hair dipping down to his forehead. 

“Smalls,” he said quietly. 

“Hmm?” You turned to look at him, mid-chapstick application. 

“I’m glad we’re hanging out.”

You stared at him for a second, your face tingly and hot when his lips twitched up into a smile. You nodded, broke eye contact, and capped your chapstick. “Mhm, yeah, me too.”

“Smalls,” he said it again, this time you looked at him more seriously. 

“What?”

“Can we talk about it?”

You could have sworn the world went silent--the hum of the plane’s four engines suddenly muted as he stared back at you with emerald eyes. 

Somewhere in the world there were ocean waves so high they could knock a boat off course. There were rainforests and mountains and deserts so dry they made the airplane cabin feel humid. You wished, as you sat next to him, miles of space between your feet and the ground, that you could be anywhere but here. 

You opened your mouth to speak, words escaping you. You shook your head. 

“Y/N, I just--”

“No,” you said. “Forget it. We both said we would forget it.”

He licked his lips, quiet for a second as he dropped his gaze to the carpeted floor. You stood up quickly, hoping an escape to the bathroom would place air and time between the two of you. You were stuck, though. You pushed the button twice that was meant to open the sliding door out of your tiny space--a human height shield from the other passengers. 

You pressed it again, more frustrated each time your finger met the hard plastic.

“Here,” he said behind you, reaching past you to press the button right beside it. “You were pressing close.”

“Right.”

The door slid open, a flight attendant offered you a smile as she waited for you to exit in front of her. Down the hall, into the bathroom--much bigger than economy. A full length mirror, a toilet that actually resembled a toilet. 

The door shut and latched behind you. Silence. You couldn’t talk about it with him. That would be more embarrassing than the night itself. What were you supposed to say? I’m sorry? I didn’t mean it? I did mean it? You’d said all of those things before--in quick succession and with a heartbeat so fast you could have passed out. 

A knock on the door. One second, you called out, turning the water on for a moment as if to make it sound like you were doing something other than panicking. You brushed past the stranger on the outside, offering an apologetic smile before heading back to your seat. When you got back, Harry had headphones in and a movie on the screen in front of him. 

Thank god. 

He smiled at you subtly, leaning forward to offer you a glass of champagne--someone must had dropped them off while you were losing your shit in the bathroom. You took it from him without a word, taking a sip as he took one earbud out of his ear and offered it to you. You pushed it into place and leaned back in the chair, still trying to catch your breath, grateful for the fact that he dropped it. 

You didn’t need the whole plane ride to be awkward. If there was ever to be a moment for the two of you to talk about the ghosts of Christmas past, literally, it wasn’t right now. The trip would be nice with a movie and a nap--free chocolates and eye masks, too.

And besides, champagne tasted better at thirty thousand feet.

here’s what first class looks like for Harry and Y/N

read the other parts here

AN: big thanks to those of you reading big thanks for all of the messages!!! be sure to let me know what you think? Anyone want to take a guess as to what happened on 12/29/15?

tag list: @clorenafila​ @ainsleesolareclipse @castawaycths @harryspirate @wanderlustiing @ursamajor603 @thurhomish @omgsharry @jdcharliewhiskey @stepping-into-the-light @rachkon​ @jdcharliewhiskey @sad-little-asshole @ainsleesolareclipse @clorenafila​ @shawnsblue​  @gendryia​ @g0bl1nqueen​  @laula843​ @pinkpolaroidgirl @4592222 @flooome​ @craic-head-horan @a-woman-without-a-plan @awomanindeniall​  @shaw-nm​ @staceystoleyourheart​

[valkyriesryde]

Hella Feelings {10/?}

Chapter 10: Bubblegum Bitch ~ MARINA

Pairings: Bucky x OC; Sam x OC

A/N: Chapter ten my lads we’re almost there (eyes emoji). THIS IS A COLLAB WITH @stuckonjbbarnes​

Warnings: language, awkward encounters, a lottle bit of flirting, dumbasses doing dumbass things, alcoholic consumption

Word Count: 1008

Previous Chapter ~ Masterlist

~~~~~~~~

“It’s finals week...you know what that means Nessa…” Holly pushes the cart with Sam by her side.

“DRINK DRANK DRUNK. Let’s GOOOOOO” She laughs as they start putting various wine coolers and alcohols into their cart. Sam and Bucky had decided to tag along on the trip to the store and were now warily watching the girls load a basket full of alcohol and various junk foods.

“Did you want some protein to go with all that crap?” Sam asks, as Holly tosses in yet another bag of sweets.

“It’s finals...live a little, Sammi Sweetheart.” Vanessa laughs, tossing some twix bars into the basket.

“You ran out of nicknames...didn’t you?” Sam smirks at Nessa.

“MAYBE, HOP OFF MY DICK.” Vanessa glares, disappearing into the next aisle.

“She’s sensitive about the name thing…” Bucky explains, going after her.

“They’re so dating and when they finally come out and say it...I’m gonna say I told you so.” Holly hmphs, glaring at the two walking off.

“Yea alright Angel, you tell him.” Sam replies halfheartedly while trying to sneak at least one lot of fruit into the cart.

“I will!” Holly picks up the bag of apples and puts it back without comment. “Why do you call me angel?”

Sam fumbles, he’s not sure whether he should tell her because he’s pretty sure she’s a literal angel or “I don’t know, just a nickname. Do you not...like it?” Holly wacks him with a bag of chips before throwing it into the cart.

“If you ever stop calling me it I’d have to kill you, and Vanessa knows how to hide a body so...like...don’t stop?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“When did you become an actress?” Bucky laughs, approaching Vanessa a few aisles over.

“When I decided I liked being able to sneak away from our best friends to make out.”

“She’s pretty and she’s smart.” He grins, wrapping his arms around her.

“And he’s very wealthy...we make some couple.” She giggles, leaning her head against his chest feeling the rumble of him laughing.

“I hate that you’re not letting that go.”

“Never in a million years, my love.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A day or so later, Vanessa is just settled into the couch, ready to study for her last exam before break. She’s in comfy sweats and someone’s hoodie, most likely Bucky’s even though the apartment is now filled with both guys’ stuff, as the four had pretty much started communal living between the two apartments. Just as she sets her mug of tea down and cracks open the textbook, the front door bursts open. Holly throws the door open as she stomps into the apartment, she’s huffing and she’s grumbling an obscene amount of profanities under her breath.

“Oh jeez..what now?” Vanessa asks, looking up from her textbook.

“SAM CAN SUCK A DICK!”

“I’ll text Bucky...he might be up for it.” Vanessa does text Bucky but she’s asking him if he knows what the fuck Sam did.

Meanwhile Bucky is sitting at the dining table in his apartment while Sam paces in front of him, “She’s out of her fucking mind!”

“Trouble in paradise?” Bucky looks at the text from Vanessa and sends back a shrug emoji because to be honest he’s no clue what the hell is going on.

“Fucking paradise? PARADISE! SHE WON’T EVEN BE MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND DAMMIT!” Bucky so badly wants to say can’t relate but he remains quiet.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“He thinks he’s top shit I’ll fucking show him,” Vanessa watches Holly pull down the vodka, the baileys, the rumchata, the liquers...uh oh.

“Holly...think about this...it’s only 2 in the afternoon...we have class tomorrow-” She slowly gets up from her seat and walks towards Holly who looks like she’s got a permanent scowl on her face now.

“Nessa, Nessa, Nessa...HOW CAN YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT SCHOOL AT A TIME LIKE THIS?!” But honestly Vanessa’s really not sure what this time is…  “I was having a GOOD DAY but nooooooo that fucking asshole comes in like oh Courtney was telling me about this and look at this meme Courtney sent me IF SHE’S SO FUNNY FUCK HER!” The top of the vodka bottle is flicked off and Holly takes a swig.

Meanwhile Nessa sends Bucky COURTNEY. WHO IS SHE?? And watches Holly, very concerned with how she’s supposed to get her studying done...when clearly she’s gonna be expected to day drink too.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I didn’t even fucking do anything and she just starts brushing me off? Gets all snotty at me, who does she think she is?! Is this how you felt? THIS SUCKS!” Bucky rolls his eyes at Sam, his phone dings and he reads the text from Vanessa before he opens his mouth.

“Uh, who is Courtney?”

“Why the fuck is that important right now we’re talking about HOLLY!” Wow, he actually was friends with a dumbass.

“Did you happen to chat with someone named Courtney?” Sam’s about to respond but Bucky continues, “Did you tell Holly about this Courtney?”

Sam thinks for a second...then he sits down at the table and starts to hit his head on the table. “I’m” bang “a fucking” bang “dumbass.”

“THERE IT IS! So glad you came to that conclusion on your own.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I DON’T EVEN CARE!” Holly yells, having repeated this about 20 times in the last hour. Vanessa just shakes her head, sipping her drink and turning up the newest playlist she made. Her Hella Feelings playlist pours through the Echo dot.

“This is so sad...ALEXA PLAY TRUTH HURTS.”

“YOU KNOW WHAT!” Holly jumps onto the couch and pulls out her phone.

“I don’t know what...but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“DAMN RIGHT I AM! Sam thinks he’s so cool, well WELL” she’s doing something on her phone and Vanessa is slightly worried about what’s about to happen but also cannot wait to see.

“Gonna find me someone who actually wants to be with me, find me a fucking sugar daddy see how he likes it.”

~~~~~~

Hella Feelings Taglist (open): @cant-decide-at-this-moment​ @rinthehufflepuff​ @buckysmischief​ @sebbbystaaan​ @supraveng​ @hopingforbarnes​ @dumbubblegum​ @murdermornings​ 

[immovable-force-archive]

send me a ship // @motherfucking-username​

1- Who is the most affectionate?

Tough one right out of the starting gate! Both of these two can be pretty prickly. I could see Kew being the one to initiate more often, but Hank does look like he gives the best hugs, so who knows tbh.

2- Big spoon/Little spoon?

Kew as big spoon, if only so Hank doesn’t have to stick his face in Kew’s carpet of gross hair.

3- Most common argument?

These two love bickering, honestly. I think over time as they get more comfortable around each other (as comfortable as you can get when you’re possessed), their arguments become more playful than like real arguments. Still, Kew taking control and doing something stupid is probably a thing that never really stops happening. Or Kew meeting up with Loqero while Hank’s asleep.

I am assuming this ship meme is with them both in the same body right

4- Favorite non-sexual activity?

Watching movies or trying new foods. Or trying old foods! Kew always loves his milkshakes.

5- Who is most likely to carry the other?

Hank is always carrying Kew, technically. Kew would love picking up Hank during dreams and carrying him around though, just to show-off. I’m guessing Hank would hate that though.

6- What is their favorite feature of their partner’s?

I think Kew starts out thinking Hank is kinda ugly, but grows to like a lot about him, so this is a tough question. He likes his hair (because it reminds Kew of his own hair), likes his eyes, likes the tattoo on his chest. The tattoo might take the ‘favorite’ prize, but it’s close between those three.

7- What’s the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

Things get waaaaaaay more awkward.

8- Nicknames? & if so, how did they originate?

Kew loves nicknames, but that’s mostly because he sucks with names really bad. He doesn’t tend to give nicknames to people with one-syllable names like Hank. Early on, he calls Hank things like “Stupid Human” (or just Human), “Host”, (in narration), “Hank Lieutenant” (thinking that’s his last name and not learning his actual one for awhile), and “Hanky.” I think he sticks with ‘Hank’ for the most part, but ‘Stupid human’ still pops up every once in awhile.

9- Who worries the most?

Hank, I think? Or maybe he doesn’t give enough of a shit to, I dunno. Most of Kew’s worrying is for his own life when Hank’s thoughts start spiraling.

10- Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant?

Hank.

11- Who tops?

Lmao

12- Who initiates kisses?

In dreams? Kew, maybe.

13- Who reaches for the other’s hand first?

Again, Kew, maybe?

14- Who kisses the hardest?

ffFFFFFF Uhhhh Haaaaank...? Or maybe Kew if he’s bein’ a desperate boi?? Oh god I have no clue don’t kill me Ellie

15- Who wakes up first?

Depends on your definition of ‘wakes up first.’ Technically Kew wakes up in the middle of the night to eat sticks of butter but does that count as waking up first, or last?

16- Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer?

Definitely Hank.

17- Who says I love you first?

Uuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh shrug emoji haven’t gotten that far

18- Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?)

Kew. He probably leaves little notes on everything.

19- Who tells their family/friends about their relationship first?

Gonna take a wild guess and say neither of them, because Kew has no living family/friends (except Loqero, who I guess might find out but I dunno if Kew would tell him) and Hank can’t exactly say he’s dating the demon that lives in his head. Not unless he wants to get wheeled into an insane asylum.

20- What do their family/friends think of their relationship?

Nothing because they never find out lmao

21- Who is more likely to start dancing with the other?

Kew, he’d dance and sing along to songs in Hank’s music collection at night, and he’d suck at it. It quickly becomes one of the things Kew isn’t allowed to do at night because Hank doesn’t want to wake up tired and sore the next morning.

22- Who cooks more/who is better at cooking?

Hank, because Kew is Klueless about anything except what foods taste good. Unless he has to cook a soul, I guess.

23- Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines?

Dunno if I could see either of them doing that, but Kew might as a joke. Maybe some bad devil pick-up lines that don’t really translate to humans well.

24- Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times?

Isn’t that all Kew does?

25- Who needs more assurance?

Both of them probably, they’re both disasters. I’d probably say Hank here if I had to pick.

26- What would be their theme song?

Carry On by fun. is pretty much perfect for them. I also like Shallow by Lady Gaga.

27- Who would sing to their child back to sleep?

Kew. He’d sing Devilian lullabies.

28- What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Not a problem with this ship B)

Nah just kidding. When Hank’s asleep, Kew relishes his time in control, usually staying in the house and examining Hank’s stuff, playing with Sumo, sampling things in the fridge, trying to craft things out of whatever’s lying around, texting Hank questions for the morning-- He does a lot. A lot that’s against the rules Hank wants him to follow at night, but a lot.

Kew usually ‘sleeps’ through Hank waking up and the first couple hours he’s at work, so who knows what Hank does them in his rare time of silence.

29- one headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart.

These two are more transparent with their issues and insecurities than most other duos, just because of the nature of their relationship. So when they fight, they can go straight for the throat. The argument thread is still pretty heartbreaking because they’re both just angry and trying to hurt each other. I remember OOC, we were pretty convinced that was going to end really badly. I think Kew lives in fear that there will be one day that things are too bad, that Hank gets too good at fighting him off, and there’s nothing he can do to stop Hank from killing them both. That in the end, their relationship isn’t really equal, and Hank holds the ultimate trump card. Kew can’t trust Hank, yet has no choice in the matter. It gets one step worse if Hank tries to do something to get rid of Kew, like an exorcism or something else, regardless of if it works or not.

Also this reply breaks my heart every single time, because it shows the exact opposite. In some way, they do both have the power to ruin the only things the other cares about, and have to live painfully aware of it.

30- one headcanon about this OTP that mends it.

I love the idea of them building up a strong bond, enough that if something happened to Kew (his soul got ‘captured’, still connected to Hank but just trapped somewhere), Hank would try to rescue him. ‘Fixing their situation’ gradually stops being ‘Get Kew out of my head and make sure he stays dead.’ And the same goes for Kew, who probably figures out that he could eat Hank’s soul at any time to take full control of his body, but ultimately lies and hides that fact. He doesn’t want to do it, but also can’t quite admit (for awhile) that it’s because he cares about Hank too much.

Hank probably figures that out anyway.

[sassycassie-s-writing]

The Princess and the Twins

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): Avengers - Steve Rogers/Captain America

Rating: PG

Original Idea: Single Parent!AU, y’all!

Notes: (Masterlist)(About Me) This is the second LOOOOONG one in a row. (That I wrote not posted.) Wow. It just kinda ran away from me. @steverogersnotebook This is the one I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to finish! (That title sounds like a band name.)

^^^^^

I sat on the bench at the station, waiting for my train. With headphones in and a sad song playing, I stared at the ground. It was my weekly existential crisis of oh-boy-what-am-I-doing-with-my-life time so I was completely lost in my own little world.

Until a little blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl boosted herself up onto the bench right next to me. She was probably four.

I paused my music and pulled my headphones out, shoving them into my bag.

“Hello,” I greeted, slightly awkwardly, as I looked around for her parents or guardians or whatever—some adults who she was with.

With any luck this kid had been taught Stranger Danger and wouldn’t say much to me, but would let me help her find her grownups while sitting on the same bench. She wasn’t crying so I assumed she hadn’t gotten lost, per se. She probably ran off, distracted by a butterfly in her mind, since the station was indoors.

“Are you a princess?” she asked me.

I looked down at her, confused but also amused, and finally got a good look at her. She was wearing an American flag shirt, frilly denim skirt with cotton shorts underneath, and Velcro kids’ Converse. There was some glittery face paint of a star on her cheek farthest away from me and she had sparkly red nail polish on her tiny fingernails.

Raising my eyebrows, I smiled at her. “Am I a princess?” I repeated back at her cheerfully. “Why do you think I’m a princess?”

“Because princesses are always the prettiest ladies! And princesses wear pretty dresses!”

I tucked the skirt of my dress slightly under my leg and put my hand on my chest. “Aw! You’re so cute. And I’ll tell you a secret.” I bent forward a little in a non-threatening way. “I am a princess!” I stage-whispered near her ear. My whole grownup life I’d done my best to encourage imagination in the children around me—my neighbors’ kids and grandkids, my nieces and nephews, my young cousins—because I felt like imagination was a resource that some people were losing but other people never ran out of.

The little girl gasped. “You are?!” she stage-whispered back in awe.

“Yes I am. But you can’t tell anyone, okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“RED!” a frantic voice shouted.

The girl and I looked up, following the sound.

A handsome, six-foot-two, muscular-as-heck man pushed his way through the small crowd at the station towards us, carrying another little girl in one arm. He had the same blond hair and blue eyes as the girl sitting next to me.

When he broke through the line of people separating us from him, the girl next to me hopped down from the bench. “Dad!” she squealed excitedly, running over to him.

“Red, honey, you can’t go wandering off like that! You scared me!” the man admonished gently, picking her up in his other arm. The second little girl was probably the same age as the first, but looked frail and younger. She had brown hair and brown eyes. Her eyes were sharp even if her legs and arms were thin for being around four.

“But, but, Dad! I found a princess!” Red told the man. He looked past her small face at me. I gave an awkward single wave, just tilting my wrist down and setting my hand back on my leg. The man approached me.

“I am so sorry if she was bothering you. She’s a bit of a handful. They both are.”

I shrugged. “It’s no problem. She was no bother. I have a lot of experience with kids.”

“See, Dad?” Red pressed, trying for quiet and utterly failing. Kids were so cute. “She’s in a pretty dress, she’s pretty, and she told me she was a princess!”

“I see that, sweetheart,” the man acknowledged. He turned back to me. “I’m Steve, by the way.” He paused for a moment. “Uh… I’d shake your hand, but… my hands are full.” He looked at his hands as he spoke, each cradling one of his daughters.

I laughed and stood up, slinging my bag securely onto my shoulder. “It’s fine. A slight breach of etiquette for a good reason is no breach of etiquette at all to me,” I dismissed.

Red didn’t like being ignored, apparently, and Steve wasn’t picking up on what she was trying to say. “Dad!” she complained. “You’re a king! So you have to marry a princess to have a queen!” Her tone was full of a “duh!” tone.

Steve blushed. “Sorry,” he muttered to me. “Ever since their mom died, Red here has been determined to find me a new ‘queen.’”

I chuckled. “No problem. She’s cute.”

“Dad!” Red protested. “She’s the first princess we’ve met! Aren’t you going to at least try to make her your queen?”

“Red, sweetheart, how about I give her my phone number, and she gives me hers, and then I can let her see if she would like to meet me again?”

“Okay!” Red replied brightly.

Steve sighed and gave me a small grin as I pulled out my phone. “I’ll forgive you if you just tell me your number instead of typing it into my phone yourself,” I commented casually, creating a new contact and writing Steve into the first-name section with an American Flag emoji next to it, taking a context clue for me later from Red’s outfit.

He recited his phone number as I plugged it in, and then showed him to make sure I got it right.

“That’s it,” he informed me.

I sent him a text with my name. “And now you have mine.”

“Daddy?” the other little girl asked. “Why didn’t Auntie Nat come with us?”

“Because she wanted to stay with her other nieces and nephews for another couple days. But I wish she’d come with us because then I’d have someone else to watch you two crazy kids,” Steve replied.

“Well, what train are you on?” I wondered.

“The eleven-twenty back to New York.”

“Hey so am I. If you want, I can sit by you and keep an eye on these two. I promise I’m not a kidnapper or anything.”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t ask you to—”

“Nonsense. If I spend the ride alone I’ll just listen to music and fall into the void of What-am-I-doing-with-my-life. I’d be happy to help.”

“Well… if you really wouldn’t mind…” Steve began.

“She wouldn’t!” Red put in enthusiastically.

Her frail little sister rolled her eyes.

“Red, leave that up to the princess,” Steve chastised gently. Red pouted.

“Well she’s right. I wouldn’t mind.”

“Well, then, princess, if you’d care to join us, I’d love to escort you to the train.”

I chuckled and readjusted my bag strap on my shoulder. “I’d consider it an honor, Your Majesty,” I remarked, taking his awkwardly-offered elbow. We strolled through the station towards the train we’d be getting on. I noticed that Steve had two little backpacks slung over his shoulders that I hadn’t seen before.

“So, this is Red,” I began, nodding at the blonde little girl. “But I don’t think you told me your name, sweetpea.” I looked at the brunette entreatingly.

Wide-eyed, she looked to her dad. He smiled and nodded. “You can tell her, honey,” he murmured.

“Peggy,” the little girl told me.

Steve grinned. “Their real names are Sarah and Margaret,” he explained. “Sarah was my mother’s name. But this little one’s favorite color is red so her uncle started calling her Red and it stuck.” He gave Red a pointed glance so I knew which twin he was talking about.

I nodded understandingly. “I see. I like Red. It’s a fun nickname.”

We reached the train. Steve jumped over the gap between the platform and the interior with ease, set Red down, and offered me his hand. I took it and let him help me hop the gap myself before he scooped his obviously-more-adventurous daughter back up. “Let’s go find some seats,” he told his girls. Peggy gave a tiny little nod and Red smiled widely with a more enthusiastic nod. I followed them down the aisle of the train until Steve found an open booth with a little table and four seats. “Here alright?” he asked me.

“Of course,” I answered.

“Mind if Red sits by you next to the window so she doesn’t run off?”

I laughed and held my hands out for the blonde twin. “Not at all.” She leaned towards me. I took her in my arms and set her down on the seat next to the window before taking the aisle seat for myself. Peggy sat across from her sister and Steve sat across from me. Red blabbered about “Uncle Bucky” and “Uncle Sam”—the latter of which made me furrow my eyebrows and think of those I Want YOU posters that turned into memes—for a while and Peggy doodled on a little notebook covered in scribbles.

“Princess?” Red asked after a couple minutes, poking me in the leg.

“Yes, sweetpea?”

“What’s it like running a kingdom?”

“It’s a lot of hard work—and I’m still learning how to do it—but it makes me a good leader and a thoughtful person. I have to carefully consider my actions and make the best decisions I can with what I have to work with. It’s not an easy job, but it is a good job.”

Red watched with rapt attention—even Peggy looked up from her notebook. Steve was grinning between me and his daughter.

I felt my phone buzz in my purse.

You certainly have a way with kids. It was from Steve.

I smiled across the table at him and shrugged. “I have a lot of kids in my family that I interact with,” I explained.

“Would you mind, I don’t know, maybe joining me for dinner some night so I can thank you for being so good to these two today—assuming I can find a babysitter?”

Peggy perked up. “Auntie Nat?” she asked.

“Or Uncle Tony!” Red put in excitedly.

“Not Uncle Tony,” Steve told his blonde daughter. “Last time I let him tend you two he let you play with tools and Peggy almost took her eye out.” Red drooped a little but agreed that wasn’t a good thing.

“I’d love to go to dinner with you whenever you can find a babysitter. I’m free most nights anyway,” I told Steve quietly. He smiled.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Red started to stare out the window and Peggy went back to drawing. They were cute kids—and they had a very handsome dad. I was trying not to notice, but come on, how could one not notice? He was tall, blond, and chiseled.

Steve and I talked quietly during the ride, swaying with the movement of the train. I didn’t want the ride to end. It was just… nice. Pleasant. I hadn’t had such a good conversation with someone I’d just met in a long time. He was just easy to talk to. He had a good personality and when he listened to me talk I felt like he was really listening.

But all good things had to end. Eventually, with screeching brakes that made all four of us cringe, the train ground to a halt in the Big Apple. We were home.

After Steve and I got the girls off the train, he shook my hand. “I look forward to taking you out to dinner.”

“I look forward to joining you,” I replied.

Red looked up at me. “It was nice to meet you, princess,” she offered.

I smiled. “It was lovely to meet you as well.”

Peggy just gave me a timid wave from her dad’s arm. I waved back.

Steve took Red’s hand and the three of them went off in the opposite direction to me.

I smiled as I headed home. I liked Steve and his daughters. I couldn’t guarantee our date would go anywhere, but I kinda hoped it would. Poor guy. Single dad raising two daughters all on his own—and at such a young age too!—couldn’t have been easy.

Yeah. If the date went somewhere, maybe one day I could be the queen to his king, as Red suggested.

[fulloflesbeans]

Traveling: A Marshfield oneshot

Waiting at an airport really blows.

The drive to LAX was already torture, next you’re stuck waiting in line just to check-in bags, then you have to go to another line and take off your shoes and all metal on your body, and then you have to rush to put your shoes back on and grab your shit again.

Now, I waited near the gate. It was a one-way fly to Tokyo, on a mission to cross another thing off the bucket list and take as many photos as possible. For the first time, I get to go and travel alone. I didn’t have much of a plan except for aimless walking and restaurant hopping.

I faced myself towards the large windows, looking out to the runways and all the planes arriving and departing. There were already lots of people sitting in these uncomfortable, way too low black seats, eating food from the many available restaurants from the food court or sleeping with their headphones and neck pillows. Times like this felt slow, because everyone just wanted to get on the plane already. Another lucky thing, I sat right next to a couple of power outlets to charge my phone. Social media was my best friend in times like this: Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, even Facebook.

Two hours of nothing passed. I huffed as I went through Tumblr again, refreshing over and over again to see new posts or memes. When I refreshed the dashboard for the fifth time, I put my phone down and observed my surroundings. It was vacation time and seeing so many people in this one terminal, I was convinced this flight was overbooked. On top of that, the letter on my ticket was “D”, the last group of people to get on a plane.

My eyes locked onto someone with blonde hair in a nicely done bun. She sat alone at the end of the row in front of me, looking through her phone and had her over-stuffed backpack on her lap. Right next to her was a big burger pillow.

She’s cute, I thought. I contemplated talking to her, but just like me, she was scrolling through her phone and had earphones in.

“The time now is 10:10 AM. Now boarding Priority on Delta flight 212 to Haneda Airport.”

I stayed sitting down, since my group isn’t until the end. The line in front of the gate was already incredibly long and disorganized.

It took another twenty minutes before it was my group’s turn. I put my backpack on and held my ticket. The girl I saw earlier was holding the burger pillow under her arm and was a few people behind me; she was getting an upgrade for sure.

When it was my turn, there was a longer delay. I watched the various screens of when we board and showing different cities and what the weather was like over there.

“There are no more seats in economy, would you like to upgrade to business class?”

“Oh, yes, that’s fine.”

Nothing screamed “cramped” more than the inside of an airplane. Seeing the rows of blue seats, trying to squeeze in two or three people into a row, having to make personal space to sleep or go use the even smaller restrooms. At least there were TV screens to watch movies on.

My expectations were high for the business cabin, but some perks included more leg room and bigger screens. I was still going to have to sit next to someone, but it wouldn’t be as awkward.

I put my carry-on bags in the cubby above my seat and sat next to the window. My first instinct was to start looking through compartments and try to play around with the screen in front of me. The screen wasn’t working yet and all I found was a manual for the life vests and the Sky Mall magazine.

I went through my phone again, looking through Tumblr once more. I took a picture of my shoes to upload on Instagram.

Heading to Tokyo, I added a little airplane emoji.

A person sat in the seat next to me and I didn’t think much of it until I saw a blonde hair bun in my peripherals.

I shoved the magazine back into the pocket under the TV. I acted like I was looking out the window when I was really looking at her through the corner of my eye. The first thing she did was take a book out.

Like me, she was comfortable wearing a jacket and jeans for the wintertime. She was way more comfortable with the burger pillow on her lap.

I tapped my finger against the armrest as I watched the workers outside driving around with a large container full of luggage and packages.

I had to admit it; I felt nervous. What does one do when sitting next to a pretty girl? Because I have no clue.

I watched the outside, up until we started to move. I thought of every cheesy icebreaker I could think of, but all of them were so bad and would make me feel uncomfortable.

As we were speeding up and lifting off the ground, I decided on something simple and not corny.

“How does takeoff actually work?” I asked. She turned her attention to me right away, raising her eyebrows, and closing her book.

“Oh, um, I think they build up speed and we sort of just… lift up.”

I watched as her hands were trying to replicate the plane lifting off the ground. Her voice was very timid and cute. I was feeling kind of giddy just making eye contact with her. She had bright and sparkling hazel eyes; I almost didn’t say anything.

“Wouldn’t it be crazy if we just went straight up?” I copied her hands, except one hand abruptly went up.

“It would be!” She nodded in agreement. She giggled and smiled, causing me to smile too.

“Um,” I didn’t want it to end just yet, “What are you reading there?”

I leaned over, resting my arm on the armrest. I was invested now and the rest of the ride will become awkward.

“It’s a book I’ve been meaning to read for a while,” She showed me the cover, “It’s a romance book.”

“What’s it about?”

“It’s about a girl who meets another girl and then they go on adventure together.” She flipped through the pages.

I hummed, “Sounds interesting. Is reading good to pass the time?”

“I personally think so,” She shrugged her shoulders, “It’s not for everyone, of course.”

I would, but I don’t have a book and I wasn’t interested in watching a movie at this point.

“What books are you into?” She asked.

“Love a good science fiction. On a good day, horror is the way to go.”

“I’ve read a few Stephen King novels, but not my cup of tea.”

“You should reconsider.”

“Why is that?”

After this, the whole conversation continued on and on. Our flight lasted for eleven hours, yet neither of us showed any signs of shutting up. Our whole topic on stories and ones we’ve read recently lasted for nearly half of the travel.

“I suggest Misery. That book is good.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Do you want to watch the film adaptation? It might be on these little screens.”

She shook her head, “I don’t want to traumatize myself!”

Our next topic went to ourselves. It transitioned so well, I wasn’t sure when it happened. She started, saying something about her other hobbies like playing instruments and sometimes knitting. I wasn’t sure what to say about myself, but I tried to relate with her with the instrument thing, saying I played guitar sometimes, and watching thriller or cult films. Time went by, unbeknownst to us, and we only broke away when flight attendants asked about meals, snacks and drinks. We still talked even when eating awful plane food about the reasons why we were going to Tokyo at all.

“It’s a bucket list thing.” She answered.

“Me too! Kinda, I do photography for a living, so I love to travel.”

“Sounds exciting! What do you love taking pictures of?”

I hummed, “To be honest, no idea. I just see things and I’m like, “I need a photo of that.’”

This topic went on for the rest of the trip. I paused about halfway through my sentence; I forgot ask the most important thing.

“Wait, damn, we don’t even know each other’s names!”

“That would be important, huh?” She chuckled.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Haneda Airport. Local time is 2:28 AM and the temperature is 41 degrees Fahrenheit.”

We checked our seatbelts and directed our attention out the window. We watched as we had a semi-bumpy landing. It looked like overcast outside and was slightly windy.

“I felt like we just left.” She sighed.

“I know, right?”

On behalf of Delta Airlines and the entire crew, I’d like to thank you for joining us on this trip and we are looking forward to seeing you on board again in the near future. Have a nice stay!”

We didn’t talk to each other as we were getting out of the plane. We looked at each other from time-to-time, smiling and nodding at each other. Even though we weren’t saying anything, we were still walking side by side and staying together. Plus, the airport was pretty overcrowded, so it wasn’t like we could split ways. We stopped at the conveyor belt filled with large luggage bags for our plane; it was already surrounded by people from our and other flights.

Our bags happened to be right next to each other and we pulled on them right away to our sides.

I huffed, “Do you know anyone here? In Japan, I mean?”

“Nope, I’m here all by myself. What about you?”

“Me neither, I’m just here alone.”

We both chuckled, but neither of us started the goodbyes or walking away. I looked around awkwardly with the question dancing on my tongue.

I looked at her again, “Would you like to travel together?”

She was deep in thought, judging by the look on her face and her hand on her chin. I wasn’t expecting a yes, because I’m still a stranger to her. She then giggled and nodded.

“You know what? I would love to.”

We started to walk together, dragging our bags and dumb smiles on our faces. Then, I remembered an important detail.

“So, uh, what’s your name?” I asked.

“Kate,” she smiled and held her hand out, “You are?”

“Max.” I grabbed and shook her hand.

As we let go, the smiles on our faces were plastered on.

Traveling alone didn’t seem that fun anyway.

[kittae]

100 WAYS TO SAY “I LOVE YOU” | 64 + 89

Pairing: Mark x reader

Genre: Fluff, drabble

Word Count: 1579

100 ways to say “i love you” ➞ 64. “It’s two sugars, right?” + 89. “I noticed.”

A/N: Wow this did not go as planned lol brain wyd

It was quiet in the coffee shop at this hour of the day. Most people grabbed their early morning juice before going to work, or sat down for an espresso or a cappuccino after a long day to catch up with friends, colleagues, family…

You, on the other hand, sat yourself at the table in a corner when noon had passed for two hours already, hiding from people that weren’t even there. The only other customer in the shop was a man of old age, clearly already retired and having no other obligations than reading the newspaper while sipping on his americano in the middle of the day.

You had taken the day off to meet up with your boyfriend for a fun date day. You were supposed to go to the movies, go for ice cream after and maybe even visit a museum hosting an exhibition you really wanted to see. That didn’t go quite as expected, unsurprisingly so. Your boyfriend made it a habit to show up late. You didn’t live together yet, even though you’ve been dating for long enough. He wasn’t ready, he’d said. And so, you found yourself waiting for him at the entrance of the cinema, hoping he wouldn’t stand you up again because he couldn’t get out of bed or he ‘forgot’ he’d already promised a friend to hang out with him. Though, you could’ve forgiven him if it was just the usual lack of punctuality.

After over an hour of sitting on the stairs in front of the theater, Mr. Punctual himself decided to show up after all. You were quite annoyed, but decided to let it go so you could have a nice date, especially because they were becoming more and more rare these days. You didn’t want to ruin the mood.

What you didn’t anticipate, however, was the way he was constantly smiling at his phone while you were waiting in line to pay for your popcorn. When you asked what was so funny, he just simply answered with ‘memes’, and didn’t spare a glance your way. You weren’t an idiot. You knew what memes looked like, and they didn’t come in the form of continuous text messages. When he went to the bathroom during a short break in between the movie you were watching, you couldn’t help but fish his phone from the pocket of his jacket, your finger anxiously sliding over the pattern that was required to get access to denial or confirmation of your suspicions.

When you opened the inbox bearing the messages that made the ground disappear from underneath your feet, the flirty texts of a certain ‘Ella’ whose contact name was surrounded by a series of emojis insinuating the kind of relationship your boyfriend and this girl unknown to you shared, you could only think of how badly you wanted to get out of there, as far away from the person that broke your heart in more ways than one, before he came back from his bathroom break.

You’d always known, to be quite fair, that he wasn’t to be trusted. That he wasn’t deserving of your love and affection since returning even 10% of what you gave seemed to be a herculean task for him. But as long as you could lie to yourself that wasn’t true, you did. Though, today’s events brought an end to that. It didn’t come as a shock, and it was like you’d been expecting this, but you couldn’t keep your heart from stinging just a little bit at the realization that it was now, effectively, all over.

You watched your phone blow up with texts of the man that had no clue why you’d suddenly disappeared from the theater, the screen constantly lighting up with bars saying ‘Jinyoung’ and a series of words you didn’t bother to read. You ignored them time and time again, until you saw a picture of his handsome face replacing the text bars, your phone vibrating every other second when you were given the option to take or decline the call.

“Neither,” you thought as your heart took a leap in panic, and you decided to switch off the device altogether.

A sigh subconsciously escaped from your lips, the air leaving your lungs in a trembling breath before you noticed the tall figure approaching from the corners of your eyes.

“Can i get you anything?” a gentle voice broke through your train of thoughts and made you snap your eyes towards the sound in return.

A bit lost for words, you tried to recollect your thoughts until you felt like you could form a proper sentence again, though it took longer than expected when your eyes fell onto the source of the softly spoken question.

You drank in the sight of rolled up sleeves, exposing a pair of forearms that lead to two hands loosely gripping the edge of the table at which you were sitting. Your gaze traveled upward until two eyes met yours. Wide, black pupils and warm irises the colour of the coffee he served, framed by small crescents in thin skin when his rosy lips curled up in a shy smile.

“C-cappuccino, please,” taken aback, you stumbled over your own words in surprise, even though you knew this face pretty well.

You’ve always thought the barista of the coffee shop on the corner of the street was handsome. Quite a vision, actually. You never saw him without his crisp apron, and the sleeves of his shirt were always rolled up like this. You wondered why you’d remembered such details about someone you thought you’d never paid much attention to.

“It’s two sugars, right?” He asked, the smile on his lips only widening a little bit at the sight of your flushed cheeks and your gaze dropping down when the heat of his eyes started to become too hot.

“How did you know?” You found yourself answering his question with one of your own, despite the inexplicable embarrassment you were suddenly feeling to start creeping up on you. Was it your emotional vulnerability that made you feel this way? Did you have trouble looking him in the eyes because the wound of your recent humiliation and betrayal was still so fresh? Or was it the way you noticed how his eyes lit up when you spoke that caused you to look away before strange thoughts could get a chance to cloud your mind?

This time it was his turn to turn bashful when his eyes finally averted and one of those forearms with a rolled up sleeve came up so his hand could rub at the back of his neck when he thought of the right response, and if you thought his smile was shy before, you could consider it sheepish right now.

“Well…Let’s just say i’ve been paying attention?” he grimaced, unsure, as a short but nervous giggle tumbled off his lips before taking an experimental peek at your expression to see how his bold, yet timid answer had affected you.

“Oh,” You murmured, not sure what to make of his words, though you felt your own shyness tug at the corners of your lips, “I see.”

You didn’t know why it proved to be so easy to smile even though you just had your heart broken, but you figured it had something to do with how this handsome barista’s slightly pointy canines stuck out a little when he smiled. It reminded you a little of a puppy, and who didn’t smile when they saw puppies, right? Yes, that must be it.

There was a moment of silence where his eyes skimmed every corner of the coffee shop, only to fall right back on yours and repeat the action all over again, while you were strangely enough doing the same thing.

“Do you…need anything else?” he decided to break the tension when you could both feel the atmosphere turning slightly awkward and he didn’t turn around to get your cappuccino with two sugars while your eyes kept meeting without a reason.

Silently wondering why it was so hard to turn your eyes away from him for more than three seconds, you forgot to answer him. You were too busy tracing the curve of his upper lip with your eyes, the slight flush on his cheeks, the collarbone that stuck out of his white shirt-

“Uhm…So, do you need me to get anything else for you, or?” he repeated, the sound of that same shy giggle bringing you back to reality and making you want to crawl under a rock in embarrassment.

“Oh, i’m sorry!” you snapped out of your strange trance, “Just a cappuccino is fine…I got a bit distracted.”

“Why’s that?” he asked, a slight frown in something between curiosity and concern appearing between his brows when he saw the way your face fell at your own words.

“I…Haven’t exactly been having the best of days.”

You shrugged it off like it wasn’t a big deal, forcing a smile back on your face, but with how one side of his lips contracted in a compassionate curve, you knew that he knew there was more to your story than what you led on.

“I noticed,” he simply answered, knowing it wasn’t his place to investigate your personal problems any further, “That’s why it’s on the house.”

The wink he threw your way took you aback, to say the least, and you never knew a broken heart could pound so hard.

[sixbillicnsoulsarchive]

screAms do the ship meme for uma & harry

     send me a ship & I’ll break them DOWN       

How did they they meet? They met on the docks as children. He and his father is always at the docks because they live on their ship and Uma’s mother runs a restaurant right on the docks soo it was kinda inevitable.

Who developed romantic feelings first? TBH it was Harry. How could he not??

Who is their biggest “shipper?” GIL LEGUME. Post-the gang getting back together cause before he was like “I can see what’s happening and they don’t have a clue. They’ll fall in love and here’s the bottom line…. Our trio’s down to two.” - Kendall’s words.

When did they have their first kiss and under what circumstances? She was ranting and raving about something and then Harry just..

Who confessed their feelings first? Harry.

What was their first official date? Stargazing, Harry showed her how to navigate the stars and pointed out constellations to her bc nerd..

How do they feel about double dates/group dates? Harry doesn’t really care because it’d be with Gil or whoever on the crew, he’d prefer to have Uma to himself but *shrug emoji* - it’s Uma who is more like no thanks though she doesn’t have a strong opinion about it either.

What do they do in their down time? They plot. Well, she plots and he nods along to her plans cause he’s a supportive boo thang. They get like zero downtime, she’s one of two employees at her mother’s restaurant so she’s always there working and Harry will be there to help bc he’s a supportive boo thang.

What was the first meeting of parents as an official couple like? James was delighted cause wow son got a badass pirate girl, the meeting went well and James was the charming man he always is. Ursula was indifferent, she’s not going to tell Uma how to live her life but she definitely isn’t fond of Harry.

What was their first fight over and how did they get past it? Their first fight? It was probably about something silly like something on the boat.

Which one is more easily made jealous? Uma. But he does his best to ensure she doesn’t have a reason to be jealous.

What is their favourite thing to get to eat? …..whatever they get from the trash? y’all, they don’t have the best pickings on the isle.

Who’s the cuddly one? What their favourite cuddling position? Is it cheating to say both? They’re not super cuddly [and the outside world definitely wouldn’t know they’re even a little bit] but they definitely do enjoy just the comfort of being wrapped up in the others. They cuddle like this mostly.

Are they hand holders? Not really, they’re more arms draped over shoulders kinda couple and only when they’re stationary, they’re on a moving ship most of their time - they need to have their 3 hands ready. Also Harry wouldn’t be a big hand holder purely cause that means he has no free hand and just has the hook and that’s kinda vulnerable as hell for him.

How long do they wait before sleeping together for the first time? What’s the circumstances? They wait a while. However long Uma needs to feel comfortable with it. And if she never is, Harry doesn’t mind. The circumstances are on the ship, candles and music because Harold Hook is a sap.

Who tops? Depends.

What’s the worst fight they’ve ever gotten into? About her plan to kidnap Ben to bargain her way to Auradon, her way. He didn’t like the lack of the word they’re. He thought it was hopeless and ridiculous and they just kinda let that fizzle out..

Who does the shopping and the cooking? Uma cooks, Harry helps. Harry does the shopping stealing.

Which one is more organized and prone to tidiness? Harry. He’s got a small living space, he needs to keep it tidy or there’s not room for him.

Who proposes? Harry does. But don’t think it’s insanely romantic. See details of the wedding/proposal below.

Do they have joined Bachelor/Bacheloette parties or separate? Joined parties considering they have the same group of friends.

Who is the best man/maid of honour? Any other groomsmen or bridesmaids? Gil is simultaneously the man of honor and best man.

Big Ceremony or Small? Small? It was literally like THIS, proposal & all.

Do they have a honeymoon? If so, where? They sail around Auradon. Fight me. They’re pirates and they love sailing. Skull Rock and Strait of Ursula are definitely destinations.

Do they have children? How many? They’d make cute af kids. I see them having one boy who I’ve totally created in my head. i mean what?

[flameysaur]

For the ask meme: 14, 19, 28, 40!

14 : Do you have a favorite writing-related quote?

The entirety of Neil Gaiman’s “Make Good Art” speech. (x) Especially in this day and age seems important.

19 : Would you rather live in your characters’ world, or have your characters come live in our world?

Depends on if I get magic or not. I would risk everything to have goddamn firepowers. I want them. Give me to me. Let me control fire please. Otherwise, come into my less deadly world. I suppose.

28 : On a scale of 1-10, how much do you stress about choosing character names?

7. I find names very important and want them to mean things and sound cool and be unique. I want them to be appropraite for the nationality of the character and have a good flow. Sometimes names find me and it makes me fall in love. I wrote One Good Deed literally because I found the main character’s name. Originally she was Gwen (and white) but then Gwen became a radically different character and I wanted to go back to One Good Deed and edit it but Gwen no longer fit the novel. Then knowing her full name (Guinevere) I thought of calling her “Vere” instead of Gwen and suddenly I had the heroine my novel needed. Likewise, Radick, the hero, I have NO clue where I got that name from now. It’s not a common name in the least. But there we go.

Maybe someday someone will name their kid that and it will get common. That’d be cool.

40 : What would you ask your favorite author if given one question?

Yo, can you give your agent this manuscript and encourage them to read it? Thank, bro.

I’m awful at thinking of questions. I’d rather have like...five minutes of attention. Just a talk. I’m awful at those too, however. So *shrugs emoji*

[limbsbo]

Tag meme thingy

I was tagged by @gay-cacti lets gooo

-most recent-

• Drink: water • Phone call: my dad • Text: dad, again • Song listened to: Partition by Beyoncé • Time you cried: if we’re being completely honest, today

-have you ever-

• Dated someone twice: nope • Been cheated on: nuh uh • Kissed someone and regretted it: no sir • Lost someone special: yep • Been depressed: yeah • Been drunk and thrown up: ive been sober my whole life

-in the last year, have you-

• Made a new friend: i made a fuck-ton of new friends this past year • Fallen out of love: ive never been in love romantically, but platonically yes • Laughed until you cried: omg yeaah • Met someone who changed you: probably • Found out who your true friends are: @gay-cacti, my friend michael, a few others • Found out someone was talking about you: these two girls were talkin shit abt me wearing a green robe instead of a white one at a promotion ceremony and basically just being transphobic assholes. I dont give a shit tho lmaooo they can be ignorant all they fuckin want i have enough problems as is Kissed anyone on your FB list: nope

-extras-

• How many ppl on your FB list do you know irl?: all of em • Do you have any pets?: i used to have two cats but they both had to be put down, Indigo was super sick when i was like 3, dont remember her much, and Tigger was super old & was in a lot of pain so we put him down when i was 8. I had two beta fish named Beauty and Beast (lived up to their names lmao) and they live to be about 6 months old, which sucked bc i remember taking rlly good care of them??? Mayb my lil bros did smthn i have no clue • Do you want to change your name?: nah jamie suits me • What did you do for your birthday?: i dont remember holy fuck! Wowie you woulda thought id remember the big one-five but [insert that shrug emoji here] i think i hung out with @gay-cacti????? Julia help me out here • What time did you wake up today?: i got out of bed at 6:40am i hate highschool scheduling • What were you doing last midnight?: catchin some killer zzz’s • Name something you cant wait for: getting my grubby mitts on a copy of the walking dead season 3 for xbox one im a SLUT for this series please put me out of my misery • Last time you saw you mom: a lil over an hr ago while i was doing laundry • What is one thing you wish you could change about your life?: i wish i was happier • Have you ever spoken to a person named Tom: nah but the name tom is weird and i associate that name with voldemort so. No Thnks • Whats getting on your nerves right now?: my parents • Bloodtype: O neg if youre fatally wounded hmu • Nicknames: my fam calls me JJ, J, sibling, sweetheart/honey/etc., my friends call me jamjam, my name in spanish (pronounced hai-me), and one of my friends calls me jim on occasion, that was mostly in middle school tho (also in middle school i was called pajamas bc i always wore/wear sweatpants) • Relationship status: solo sniper • Pronouns: they/them. If you refer to me with she/her i will find you and i will cover your living room with dildos. Every surface of every object in your living room will be smothered with silicone rods of phallic resemblance. Also a 55gal drum of lube will be used to coat them • Long or short hair: short, used to be long af • Height: tall enough to knock your teeth out, short enough to duck and run sucessfully • Do you have a crush?: nah • What do you like abt yourself?: im very funny and pretty • Rigt handed or left handed?: right • First surgery: never had surgery for anythin • First best friend: this girl named Abby in kindergarten, she moved away in second grade. We got along very well, her mom helped us make broomsticks from branches and hay, they were rad as shit • First sport you joined: technically ballet, but if we’re talkin olympics then tennis. I took lessons for about 3 years but then stopped for some reason • First vacation: the first one i can remember is disney world in florida back in kindergarten, that was p lit

-right now-

• Eating: burger, brat, tater tots • Drinking: nothing, last thing i drank was oj i think • Im about to: do my hw • Listening to: nothing really, just the sounds of the dryer and my fam talking downstairs • Kids: Maybe ill adopt a teenager when ive got my life sorted out (30s maybe??? Only future me knows) • Get married: if i dont get married id at least like to live with someone i trust and care about, be our relationship romantic or platonic • Career: im hoping to get into a good art school but i doubt ill be able to afford what i want, i want to be an animator or a character designer. Voice acting sounds cool too

-which is better-

• Lips or eyes: eyes. • Hugs or kisses: why not both • Taller or shorter: i wanna be taller, i like being taller than my friends • Older or younger: there are pros and cons to both, but im gonna have to go with younger. Everything is new and exciting and games are everywhere when youre young, as you get older theres still some of that but its discouraged and that sucks ass • Romantic or spontanious: Why Not Both • Sensitive or loud: i, myself, am a confusing mix of the two, so i must direct you to my previous statement; WHY NOT BOTH • Hookup or relationship: relationship • Troublemaker or hesitant: B O T H calculated troublemakers are always so much fun to hang around and they dont go too far most of the time

-have you ever-

• Kissed a stranger: no • Needed glasses/contacts: bitch im blind without my glasses. No joke. I Will run into a wall. Im basically velma • Broke someones heart: i hope not • Turned someone down: yeah • Cried when someone died: Yes • Fallen for a friend: no

-do you believe in-

• Yourself: yeah for the most part • Miracles: eh • Love at first sight: noope its cute but impractical • Heaven: i dont believe in god but i like to think that theres a place after we die that allows us to be whomever we want. You want a dick? Done. Vagina? Here you go pal. Wanna be a teen again? BAM youre 16. A place where you can be yourself and pursue you passion without fear of consequense • Kissing on the first date: it depends on your history with that person

Im not gonna tag anyone to do this but if you wanna do it then be my guest homie