hotelarches

[summerlycoris]

Finished some Cassies (plural) off today.

[onechicago-upsteadrhekker]

Either 90 or 84 would be perfect for Upstead from that 100 prompts list you reblogged! (:

Hi everyone! 

Here’s another prompt! @karihighman also requested #84 and if you’d like to read it, you can click on this. And like I promised, this one is much lighter than that one. So enjoy and let me know what you think! I also got a little carried away and the beginning is kind of random so sorry about that but I hope you like it anyway! #90 is “I brought food.”

*title is taken from a Sleeping at Last song entitled ‘Life’*

my heart reconciled all the darkness and light inside my chest

When Hailey was a little girl she’d never really thought about her future.

She was never one of those girls who played dress up or played with dolls or imagined their wedding day and pretended they were playing house. Maybe that was because she had only older brothers or maybe it was because of her father’s behavior towards her mom. 

The only thing she’d known for certain was that she wasn’t going to grow up to be her mother.

She’d known that from an early age. She recognized her mom’s loyalty to her dad; that her mom would never run or go to the police. That her dad abusing her mom was not okay and her mom shouldn’t stand for it or protect him or justify his behavior.

Hailey had promised herself that she would never make the same mistake.

The only things Hailey knew for sure was that she wouldn’t be with someone like her dad, ever. No matter how hard it was. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t trust so blindly and get sucked into a man who didn’t care about her.

She would be brave and take care of herself first and foremost.

When Hailey got older; old enough to leave the situation that was her mom and dad she knew exactly how she was going to protect herself. And it had come from one Trudy Platt who worked Robbery-Homicide when she was 12 and a gun was shoved in her face.

Watching Trudy Platt be a cop was all she needed to see to make up her mind that that was what she wanted to do as soon as she was old enough. In that one night, she’d felt more at home and at peace in a police station than she ever had before. Even with her brothers who at that point had all pretty much left home.

Hailey had always been a driven person; she’d finished high school at the age of 17, already having a few college credits under her belt. She was accepted into University of Chicago, paid in full through scholarships and a lot of hard work on her part and completed a degree in Criminal Justice all at the age of 22. And then she went straight to the Academy and was well on her way to a successful police career.

That had been her plan. Anything after that, like a personal life or friends or guys, well, that had never been in her plans and it only happened because they had been there and she supposed it was nice as long as it didn’t interfere with her success.

There had been many bumps in the road and a lot of heartbreak she hadn’t been anticipating but she knew how the world worked so really, she shouldn’t have been surprised. But she’d picked herself back up again and went on with her life, continuing to build her life into successful one. One that her parents should have been proud of if she’d told them but she had decided to keep her past life in the past and she preferred it that way.

And then she landed a spot in Intelligence and then there was Jay Halstead.

A brooding pain in her ass at first but then she’d finally started to get him to open up and she realized what a caring and compassionate person he was under his tough exterior and as fate would have it, she fell in love with him.

It hadn’t been planned, just like everything else but Jay was different. He was special and for the first time she began imagining a future. One with a house and a husband and maybe even children.

Someone that loved her and protected her and took care of her and that someone just happened to be in the form of the best partner she’d ever had, both at work and in life.

So, if someone had told Hailey all those years ago when she was a scared little girl listening to her parents scream and throw things that one day she would have an incredibly successful career which she loved and a man who loved her more than life itself, she probably would have laughed.

Her head was killing her and all she wanted was some massive pain killers and her own bed in her own home but she knew that wasn’t going to happen. At least not right at this moment and it was all thanks to her freakishly stubborn partner.

And his dumb brother.

She heard Will slip into her hospital room, his shoes squeaking on the tile floor as he made his way over to her bed. His footfalls sounded like grenades going off and the squeaking wasn’t doing anything to help her still ringing ears.

She groaned, waving the arm that wasn’t currently draped over her eyes to try and convey to Will that she needed more meds ASAP without actually having to use her brain to make words.

“Head still killing you?” 

God, why was he talking so loud? She moved her arm a tiny bit to peek up at him through bleary eyes, the dimmed lights still harsh against her weak glare.

His face appeared above her, the red-hair hard to miss even if she was squinting but then he had the audacity to smirk at her and she tried to glare harder but her head freaking hurt.

“Yep, that’s what I thought. I’ll up your dose of pain medication. It’s hospital-grade you know, you wouldn’t have been able to have it if you’d went home.”

She wanted to roll her eyes or give him the finger or something but everything hurt and it wasn’t worth giving him the satisfaction. Honestly, he was almost as bad as Jay except he found more humor out of the situation whereas Jay just worried her to death.

She was starting to gather how much stuff like this affected him. This was the first time she’d been really hurt since joining Intelligence and she knew Jay could be over-protective but he acted like she was dying. She was grateful that he was forced to go home and get himself cleaned up. Up until an hour ago, he had still reeked of smoke and ash, still wearing his dirty clothes and vest because he hadn’t left her side.

She knew that was partly due to the fact she’d been desperate to escape the hospital and hole herself away in her house but seeing as how she had a major concussion along with other scrapes and bruises, she wasn’t going anywhere for at least the night no matter how much she insisted she was fine.

“Feeling any better?” Will’s voice interrupted her thoughts and now that he’d asked, she realized the pounding in her head had been lessened and she couldn’t see the blinding light behind her eyelids anymore.

She took an experimental blink, slowly removing her hand that she’d had clasped over her eyes. The light still seemed a bit harsh but she could tolerate it without pain shooting through her head.

Hailey glanced over to Will who actually had a sympathetic look on his face instead of the smirk he’d worn a few minutes ago, “Yes. Thank you.”

He smiled, “Anytime Hailey. Just don’t go getting blown up any more because I think my brother just might have a stroke,” Will’s eyes softened, “I think you’ve grown on him.”

She smiled fondly at that, “Well, he’s grown on me too and believe you me, I do not have any intentions on getting that close to a homemade bomb again.”

Will patted her arm lightly, making a move to leave the room, “I’ll hold you to it,” He winked, flashing a grin she’d seen Jay grin on rare occasions, “But seriously, you’ve grown on all of us. I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”

Hailey smiled back at him, “Thanks Will.” 

“Well, I’ll leave you in some peace and quiet before Jay shows back up, ready to answer your every beck and call.”

She sighed, letting her head roll so she was staring straight at the ceiling before closing her eyes to savor the silence that she was actually starting to hear. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was just getting used to the ringing in her ears or if it was actually fading.

Not that she’d ever show it, but today had been a little too close for comfort. She and Jay had answered a call over the zone. Dispatch had just said there were reports of shots fired, coming from inside a house a few blocks away so they’d gone over there to check things out. They had cleared the house, not finding anyone or anything suspicious so they’d gone back outside and Jay had walked over to speak to neighbor out walking his dog. That’s when Hailey noticed the shed in the back and decided to go have a quick look when everything blew up and she was thrown backwards.

The next few minutes had been hazy. All she could recall was Jay frantically radioing for back up; calling for an ambo and asking for dispatch to roll the bomb squad. And then he was saying her name frantically, telling her to stay awake, to open her eyes but all she could focus on was the pain bombarding her head and the terrible ringing in her ears. She couldn’t even tell if she was hurt anywhere else.

Once she’d gotten situated in the ED and felt like she could talk without throwing up, she’d asked if she could go home and that had really set Jay off. To be honest she hadn’t really payed attention to what he was saying because she really hadn’t felt good but she knew it was along the lines of ‘no way’.

And she knew how lucky she was to come away with only a concussion a few minor burns so she supposed his concern was justified but still. But whatever, she felt like 100 times better since then so she guessed it was a good thing she’d been forced to stay.

There was a soft knock on the door and Jay slipped in, his face full of relief when he saw her awake and somewhat coherent. He lifted up a bag of to-go from her favorite Chinese place, “I brought food.”

She smiled at him as he walked over to sit in the chair beside her bed, “Thanks.”

He sat the bag on the nightstand, his eyes never leaving her face, “How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

Hailey resisted from rolling her eyes as she didn’t want to worsen her headache, “I’m fine, Jay. You can stop worrying. You don’t need too. You don’t even need to be here.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Of course I need to be here. Where else would I be? You’re my partner.”

Jay rubbed his hands against his jeans, “You’ve been there for me more times than I can already count and it’s time for me to be here for you. Make sure you’re okay. That’s my job.”

Hailey regarded him for minute. She had been through enough with him to know that he was more affected from what happened today and it wasn’t just because she’d gotten hurt.

“Jay, you know this wasn’t your fault, right?” He met his eyes and she could see his hesitation before he nodded. She wasn’t totally convinced but she wasn’t going to push the issue, at least not at the moment.

She caught his eyes with her gaze and she knew there was more than he wanted to let on but Hailey had always been very perceptive, especially where Jay was involved because he was her partner too and she had a job too. 

Besides, she cared about him. They’d already been through enough to know that there was a quiet affection between them.

“This is about the actual bomb, isn’t it?” The way his eyes flicked to hers in slight surprise told her all she needed to know, “Brought back memories?”

At his sharp nod, she sighed, “You know you can talk to me about it. Anything at all. I’m here to listen.”

He gave her a feeble smile, “Thanks, I really do appreciate it Hailey, it’s just seeing you there, hurt.” He took a breath and looked away, “It just reminded me of my times overseas and I wondered if I was about loose another friend to an explosive.”

“I’m okay Jay. I promise. I’m right here,” She wasn’t sure what else to say. She couldn’t imagine what he’d seen and gone through in Afghanistan but she wanted him to know that she was there for him, no matter what.

It took him a few seconds but he nodded, “I know.”

“And you’re still going to therapy, right?” She prompted even though she knew full well he was because she was monitoring his status by periodically checking in with him. 

He smiled at her then, a little shy, “Yeah, I am.” They held each others gazes for a second before he cleared his throat, shaking his head in slight exasperation, “What am I doing? Why are we talking about me when it’s you in a hospital bed?”

She laughed lightly. Yes, her head was still pounding and her whole body hurt but she’d wanted to make sure Jay was alright. 

Her eyes were soft, “I’m just watching your back, Jay. You’re my partner and,” She gave him a small smile, “You’re my friend.”

Jay was quiet for a moment before reaching a hand out to squeeze hers, “Right back at you and now it’s time for me to take care of you.” He pulled out some Lo Mein, winking at her as he handed the container to her, “So food. Couldn’t let my best partner eat the crappy cafeteria food.”

She wasn’t sure if he’d even realized what he’d said or if he even meant to say it and she wasn’t going to bring it up but her heart swelled at hearing that he thought she was his best partner because that’s how she felt too. They were good together and they had this pull, something between them that she’d never felt before and she knew he felt it too.

He sat for a long time, well into the night, even after she’d fallen asleep. They’d kept the discussion to a minimum because of her head but she couldn’t help but quietly laugh when Jay had regaled her with some stories of Intelligence before she’d joined while they ate.

The rest of the evening was spent in a comfortable silence as she listened to Jay breathe where he sat in the chair beside her bed going over reports and it was the first time that she truly felt like she’d have Jay Halstead in her life for a long time in some capacity.

And that thought made her very content.

Hailey was extremely content. She couldn’t begin to describe how happy and fulfilled she felt and she never wanted this moment to end.

She heard the hospital door open softly and Jay appeared wearing a bears hoodie and sweatpants, a small duffel bag thrown over his shoulder.

“I brought food,” His voice was soft as he held up the bag of Chinese in his hand. Dropping the duffel, he approached the bed, pressing a kiss to Hailey’s forehead as he put the to-go bag on the nightstand.

Hailey smiled at him lazily, the warm weight on her chest calming as she took in a deep breath. She hummed quietly, “Thank you.”

She nodded to the bag of food, “You know, I was just thinking about that time I got hurt. The first time I had to stay overnight in the hospital since joining Intelligence because of that bomb,” She suppressed a smile, “You brought me Chinese then too.” 

“A lot has changed between now and then and for once we aren’t in the hospital because of an injury,” He nodded to the baby curled up on Hailey’s bare chest, her left hand patting the newborn’s back giving Jay a good look at her wedding and engagement rings.

She grinned, planting a gentle kiss to the baby’s head, reaching out for Jay’s hand. He squeezed it, settling down on the edge of her bed as they both gazed at the sleeping baby.

“She’s so beautiful,” Jay reached out to stroke her tiny back, his thumb brushing the baby’s exposed neck. He’d never felt skin so soft. He looked at Hailey, love and awe and pride shining in his eyes, “Just like her mother.”

Jay stood up, Hailey’s gaze following him. He leaned over to kiss her on the lips, deep and passionate, drawing away when they ran out of breath.

Hailey’s opened her eyes, raising her brows as her lips ticked up into a pleasantly surprised smile, “What was that for?”

Jay gave her another quick kiss, pushing her hair lovingly behind her ear. He gazed into her eyes, his own lips ticking up into a happy grin, “Just showing my appreciation to my hot, bad ass wife who just gave birth to our daughter.”

Hailey rolled her eyes, smirking as she adjusted the blanket covering her and the infant, “If you keep talking like that we might just have another one of these sooner than expected.”

Jay looked a little concerned at that, eyeing the baby carefully, “Yeah, maybe I should figure out how to take care of this one first.”

Hailey sighed in exasperation, “Jay, we talked about this. You’re gonna be a great father,” She gave him a fond look, “You already are.”

He still didn’t look to convinced and Hailey was amazed at how he could go from being so confident and flirty to being unsure about himself but they’d had conversations about this leading up to the baby’s birth so she wasn’t too surprised. She knew she would just have to convince him otherwise because she knew he was going to be a great dad. She’d seen how he acted around kids, how good he was with them when they worked with children in their jobs.

She wouldn’t have had kids with him if she wasn’t sure. Or even fell in love with him. It was his qualities, the ones she fell in love with, that would make him such a great father. 

Jay took a breath, rubbing the back of his neck before dropping his arm, “Well, I’m going to do my absolute best, I promise you that,” He got serious again, looking into her eyes, “I’m gonna do everything in my power to keep both of you safe and happy for as long as I live and I’ll always be here for you and Ellie. I love you so much.”

Hailey cupped his cheek, stroking her thumb across his cheekbone, “I know. I love you too.” She reached up to give him another quick kiss before drawing back to maneuver the baby sprawled out on her chest.

“Hey,” She glanced at Jay before turning her attention back to the baby, “Could you go get that swaddle in the bag I packed for Ellie?”

Ellie started fussing as Hailey withdrew her from the warm cocoon of her mother’s chest and soft blankets to lay her on the brown swaddle Jay was laying out on the bed in front of her.

“I know, I know, sweet girl,” Hailey soothed as she quickly wrapped the baby up, placing her on her shoulder to calm her down some, patting her back gently, “Shhh, I’ve got you. Mama’s got you.”

When the baby calmed down, she peeked a glance at Jay who looked a little terrified and she had to smother a laugh. Of course, it was a baby that would be Jay Halstead’s biggest fear. A man who was a Chicago police officer and a war vet.

Hailey gave him a look and he swallowed, starting to look more confident as the baby quieted down. He took a breath and moved closer to the bed, “I can hold her while you eat if you want.”

Hailey suppressed a grin. That a boy.

“Yeah, that would be helpful,” She lifted the baby from her shoulder, one hand supporting her neck and the other her bottom and Jay’s hands very carefully replaced hers. 

Hailey leaned back, adjusting her own clothes to cover her chest a little more while she watched Jay with loving smile, her heart bursting with love at the two of them.

He settled the baby in the crook of his arm, cradling her close to his chest and over his heart. He was murmuring something to the newborn, bouncing some as he walked slowly towards the large window, looking down to the busy Chicago streets below.

Hailey watched as Jay’s shoulders slowly relaxed and she knew he was getting lost in the wonder of their daughter’s little face just as she had, forgetting all about his fears of being a father. Tears pricked her eyes as he bent his head to brush a kiss on top of her head.

She could watch them for forever and never get tired.

So, yeah. She’d never thought about a future till she met Jay Halstead but here she was. Sitting in a hospital bed, sore and exhausted from giving birth but so filled with joy, the best future she could ever imagine--never imagined--standing right in front of her.

The End!!

It got a little long and drawn out so I apologize for that. When I started on this prompt I had this vague idea of Hailey in the hospital and Jay bringing her some food and this what it turned into, so go figure... I had like two stories going on with an epic intro that I have no idea where it came from. I hope you enjoyed it regardless and I did want to say that I do have longer stories planned about life events such as the birth of a child and such for upstead and I will be uploading them on AO3 sometime in the future whenever I get said stories written. I just have to do certain stories first because I like revealing names in a special way... I know it sounds stupid but usually when I love a ship, I make up their kids names with like serious thought and I have had upstead kid names for quite a while now. And I also like to pretend all my stories are in the same universe if you will so I like things kind of being chronological if that makes since HOWEVER, I decided that Dancing in the Minefields is kind of an AU situation because I had a plan with upstead’s first kid and the way I’m writing Dancing in the Minefields wouldn’t be the way Jay finds out about said kid. Okay, I know I’m probably making no sense and no one probably cares that much but I can assure you I will explain how each story fits into my ‘Universe’ when I publish them even though no one probably really cares except me.

Anyway, sorry for that super long author’s note and the repetitiveness of it but I am finally feeling better and in the mood to write some upstead fics and hopefully finish the one-shots I’ve been working on, finish a couple of chapters on Dancing in the Minefields so I can publish a new chapter for you guys this Wednesday as well as keep working on the prompts I have received!

Thank you so much for reading this prompt and I would love to hear what you thought about it!!

[maugustyniuk]

What’s in Your Dance Bag—Based on Your Zodiac Sign

Sometimes our dance bags feel like portals to another dimension—we have no idea what half the stuff buried in our bags even is. (Note to self: Clean out dance bag.)

But have you ever wondered if there's a method to the madness? We're pretty sure there is, and as always, we're pretty sure it's something to do with astrology. That's right, your resident Dance Spirit astrologers are back with our best guess at what you keep in your dance bag—based on your zodiac sign.

Aries

You're always going 100 mph Aries (or maybe even more), so it's pretty much a guarantee that your dance bag is fully stocked with snacks to power you through the day. Granola bars, trail mix, yogurt, fruit. It's like a Whole Foods in there.

You've also usually got about six different pairs of shoes in your bag. As an Aries, you love adventure, trying new things and, most of all, a challenge. So when it comes to classes, you're all over the map. Tap, jazz, ballet, character, modern—you'll try them all.

Something else you won't go without? Your signature red lipstick, obv. How else are you going to show off your fiery personality? (And look amazing while doing it, TYSM.)

Taurus

As a child of Venus, you always want to look your best, Taurus. So your dance bag is a hair salon/makeup station, all in one. If your dance besties need to borrow a hair tie, or are looking for a fun accessory to spice up their bun, they know you're the one to go to.

Also important to you? Smelling your best. Taureans love comforting, luxurious scents, so your dance bag is typically equipped with a favorite perfume or deodorant. (Or both.)

But what's most important is the bag itself—admit it, you've been using the same dance bag for years. We get it, Taurus, nobody likes change, and least of all the stubborn bull of the zodiac. But if your dance bag is really starting to smell like feet (or if your bobby pins are starting to slip through the holes in the bottom), you might want to consider investing in a new bag.

Gemini

Gemini, you love to switch it up. So you're pretty much guaranteed to have at least three different dance fits in your bag at any given time. And your dancewear is always on point. You love to keep up with trends and try edgy, new looks.

Ever the intellect, you usually have a book in your bag, as well. You're always making book recs to your fellow dancers, and you refuse to be bored between rehearsals or backstage.

Though you might act carefree, Gemini, we know that at heart, you're ruled by Mercury—and you have more in common with your sister sign Virgo than you'd like to admit. That's why you always have a toothbrush, toothpaste, and some floss in your dance bag. No way you're getting caught with food between your teeth (or bad breath during partnering class).

Cancer

Not to be obvious, but as a water sign, the first and foremost thing a Cancerian keeps in their dance bag? A water bottle, of course. (Preferably a Hydroflask, S'well or any bottle that comes in a fun color.) No dehydration here, please and thank you.

Your dance bag also functions as a de facto vending machine for your dance besties, since you always come prepared with the best snacks, and you're always willing to share. As a bonus, your snacks are almost always homemade, since you're practically a five-star chef.

And while we're wary of zodiac stereotypes, there is a pretty good chance your dance bag is stocked with tissues. And there's no shame in that—because, really, who can get through a performance of Romeo and Juliet without shedding some tears? Props to you for being in touch with your emotions, Cancer.

Leo

We'll state the obvious, Leo. You love to look at yourself, and sometimes the studio mirrors just aren't enough. So, naturally, you always keep a compact mirror in your dance bag, just in case your makeup or your bun needs an extra touch-up.

You also love bright colors, and you're not afraid to wear more daring dancewear than any of your besties. You've usually got a couple of leotards packed in your bag, just in case you need to make a fashion statement, and they're always fun. Bright colors, loud prints, stylish necklines—you'll try anything.

But something not everyone knows about you? You're an amazing friend, and incredibly loyal, Leo. That's why you've usually got something in your bag for your dance bestie, be it her favorite brand of granola bar, a fun sparkly pin for her hair, or a note reminding her she's a star, on and off the stage.

Virgo

You're incredibly hardworking, Virgo, so you've always got the tools for success in your dance bag. TheraBands, foam rollers, tennis balls—you're the one dancer your teacher can always count on to be stretching between classes.

You also love to be prepared, so you've usually got a makeshift first-aid kit in your bag. The thought of suffering a blister or floor burn without the appropriate salves or bandages makes you shudder, and, hey, it's always better to be overprepared, right?

What's most noticeable about your dance bag, though, isn't what's inside of it. It's what it looks like—your bag is pristine. It never smells like feet, and you've got a hard-core system for what you keep in each little zip pocket or compartment. And TBH, all of your dance friends are jealous, though they'd never admit it.

Libra

Like your sister sign Taurus, appearances are important to you, Libra. You like to look good (no shame in that), so your dance bag is always stocked with the essentials: extra hair spray, lip gloss, concealer, bobby pins and a spare leotard, in case you get just a bit too sweaty.

You also love to socialize, so if this were the 1950s, we would say that you always keep your date book in your dance bag. As it is, you always have your phone with you, and it's usually blowing up with texts from your dance besties asking to make plans.

Your dance bag wouldn't be complete without your secret supply of chocolate. But to be clear: This isn't your average Hershey's bar. Libras aren't afraid to indulge, so you keep a bar of luxury dark chocolate tucked away for when the cravings hit.

Scorpio

You can't fool us, Scorpio—the contents of your dance bag aren't some big mystery, like you'd like us all to believe. In fact, they're pretty basic: For starters, you always have a black leotard or two in your bag. After all, black is your signature color.

One thing that isn't in Scorpio's dance bag? Toe pads. You love to look tough, so you'd never be caught dead wearing toe pads with your pointe shoes. However, this does mean you need a hefty supply of Band-Aids for the inevitable blisters.

You also love all things mystical and, dare we say, witchy. You're the Halloween queen of the zodiac, after all! So it's no surprise you always have a crystal or two in the front pocket of your dance bag. Let us guess…moldavite?

Sagittarius

You're an explorer, Sagittarius, and that applies to your dancing. You're always trying new dance styles, and that's reflected in your dance bag. You always have the trappings of your latest obsession in your bag: heeled shoes for ballroom, kneepads for contact improv, sneakers for breaking, the list goes on and on.

But on all of your adventures, there's one consistency: You love making memories. And that means literally—you document everything. At each performance or recital, you're bound to be the one with a Polaroid or disposable camera in your bag, and you can usually be found snapping backstage candids of your dance besties.

Your other favorite form of documenting? Writing it down. You love to learn, so you're always taking notes. You can usually be found after class scribbling down your dance teacher's latest piece of wisdom. Your dance bag is crammed with half-filled notebooks, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

Capricorn

You like to be prepared, Capricorn. And we mean prepared—for every bad scenario imaginable. That's why your dance bag is a mini survival kit. The first Capricorn dance bag guarantee? A stitch kit, of course. Losing a ribbon on your pointe shoe mid-rehearsal is your worst nightmare.

You also always have at least three spare leotards handy. After all, what if you spill something, or get too sweaty or, worst of all, show up to an audition in the same leotard as your dance rival? No, thank you. As a Capricorn, you're expecting the best and preparing for the worst.

Another key to your survival kit? Headphones, so you can drown out the noise around you and focus on your dancing. And before anyone asks, the answer is yes, you have the perfect playlist—for each and every occasion.

Aquarius

Aquarius, you love helping others. That's why it sometimes seems like your dance bag isn't even for you—it's filled with stuff you bring for your friends. Snacks for one dance bestie, Band-Aids for another, and tampons, of course, just in case anyone needs one.

But when it comes to you, you're all about originality. That's why you always have tons of fun accessories in your bag: striped legwarmers, colorful socks, tie-dyed sweats and more than a couple of fun additions to your ballet bun, just to make it a little more interesting.

You're also a rebel at heart, Aquarius, which is why there's usually something in your dance bag that just borders on breaking the rules. Maybe your studio is strictly black leotards only—and yours is gray. Or phones are completely banned—and you just put yours on vibrate. We see you.

Pisces

Like your fellow water sign Cancer, you're big on hydrating during dance class. But as a Pisces, you're a little more imaginative (and a little less practical), meaning you're usually carrying your water in something aesthetically pleasing, like a mason jar, a tumbler, or one of those fancy water bottles with a crystal in the base.

Unlike Cancer, you're a mutable sign, meaning you can adapt to just about any situation. Counterintuitively, this actually means your dance bag is pretty sparse. Unlike other zodiac signs who feel the need to overprepare in case of disaster, you're comfortable in most situations, and your dance bag reflects it. You like the basics, nothing else.

Something most people might not know about you, though, is that you get cold easily. We're not sure why, but it's a Pisces staple. That's why if you keep anything in your dance bag, it's the coziest of warm-ups.

from Dance Spirit https://ift.tt/374Q0P7

[paperficwriter]

So Much Missed Time

Garou always spends too much time away for Badd's liking. 

So funny story, this fic was actually born from a NSFW challenge on Twitter, wherein I offered bits and pieces for milestone numbers of likes. I hope you enjoy it now.

Cut is for length as well as content.

The messy, awkward kiss from upside down takes Badd off-guard. But then, he should have been paying attention, dozing in the open like this. He’s in full hero garb, lying in the grass at the top of the hill overlooking the city, holding his bat against his side. “Hey!” he snaps, but when he opens his eyes and sees a familiar jawline, a long muscular neck, and just the softest strands of white hair, he yanks the head down harder instead of smacking it away.

Garou purrs, cool hands grabbing his face.

Badd’s panting when he finally grumbles, “Fucker. Where ya been? Worryin’ me sick, with that stupid hobo monster boy bullshit…”

Sharp teeth nip his bottom lip before immediately sucking at the skin. It’s embarrassing how easy it is to make him gasp and shudder at that. “Shut up. Had to disappear for a bit. Blame your little hero club. They always want to make my life difficult.”

Badd doesn’t have a response to that. He could retort that he’s not exactly making it easy for him either, showing up like this when he’s on the clock as Metal Bat. All it would take is one nosy asshole with a cell phone, and they would both be in trouble.

God, he tastes good. Kissing Garou is like kissing a snowstorm and a knife fight. Badd’s the one who has to bring the softness to it, or they would both pull away bleeding and bruised. 

“Did you miss me that much, little Bat?” the Human Monster chides, one of those stupidly perfect fingers drawing circles on his chin. His catike grin and gold, mirthful eyes make his heart ache as much as his fists clench. “Was it that long?”

“Two weeks, asshole.” Badd grabs him and flips him over, next to him, but the bastard even makes falling look good, laughing and landing like it’s nothing. Then, he licks into his mouth like a real wolf, a wild greeting of wet pink, and Badd lets him in.

It’s a lifetime - being born, living, and dying to kiss those lips - before Badd finally pulls away. Then, he grabs loose fistfuls of black sweater and shakes Garou twice. This isn’t a fight. Garou would know if he wanted to rumble. “Ya could tell a guy,” he says, headbutting firmly into his shoulder to hide his face as much as get a smell of him. 

“Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me,” he snaps. “Ya think I’m gonna tattle on ya? Let ya get caught? At this point?”

“I--”

“Do ya know how bad ya made Zenko feel?! She’s askin’ me when you’re comin’ t’ dinner again, and I can’t even tell her.” His voice is loud, and that stupid perfect chiseled chest he’s muffling it into feels like a wall. “I don’t care if ya treat me like a dickhead, but if ya hurt my sister’s feelings again, I’ll kill ya.”

For several seconds, there’s nothing. Then, Garou moves.

If it were anyone else doing it, maybe the sensation of arms encircling him wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Badd gets hugs a lot: from his barber, from Zenko, from his neighbors and people he saves. But Garou hugging him - holding him, pulling him in, slow and tight, like he’s something important - that’s completely different.

“Sorry,” a voice murmurs in his ear. It tickles. 

Badd dares to hold him too, and at first, it’s trembling muscles and everything thin, so thin, has he been eating? And he doesn’t say anything, because another two weeks of nothing seems like too much to handle, and if he scares him away…

“I won’t do it again,” Garou whispers, holding him even closer, until there isn’t even room to breathe. 

“I don’t care if ya need space, yeah?” Badd kisses his jaw. “Just talk to me.”

His shirt is being pulled up from where it’s tucked into his hakama, and fingertips move up his spine. “Later,” Garou agrees, husky and already much too close to him.

“Ya couldn’t jus’...wait for me to get home.” Badd can’t stand the thought of pushing Garou away, telling him to wait, because he doesn’t even think he can. Not after this long, barely even touching himself because he’s gotten too used to way Garou does it, pressing and digging in, finding every pleasure center he didn’t know that he had. 

“No,” Garou says simply, “I couldn’t. Because they keep you on this stupid shift, and by the time you get home, Zenko would be back from piano.”

“Babe.” Badd pushes him back, and at first Garou snarls - did he think he was going to poke fun for being considerate? Or did he hate being interrupted? - but he peppers his cheek with kisses anyway. “Did ya seriously remember our schedules?”

“Yeah? So?” He’s trying so hard to look nonplussed, the loser.

Badd rolls him over so he’s lying on top of Garou’s body, gazing down into eyes that are growing darker. “I dunno. Somethin’ about ya bein’ sweet kinda gets me goin.’”

“Oh, is that what does it for you?” He grabs his ass and uses it to pull him in so tight, and both of them react to it, hard heat striking and rubbing between way too many layers of clothing. “Watch out, hero. I’m going to woo the shit out of you.”

Badd almost chokes on a snort, because he’s moaning now under his breath, leaning down to travel through all the lines of sinew and muscles and pale glory beneath him. Garou manhandles his chest, pulls and grabs at all the soft spots that should be embarrassing as hell, but it just has him devouring his mouth.

Someone could show up at any moment. Any fucking moment.

“I gotta get out of these fuckin’ pants,” Badd growls, and his fingers are shaking as he gets to work.

Badd is so focused on his own pants - damning all the straps and buttons, a curse of looking so fucking cool - that he almost misses Garou disrobing. He’s so long and graceful, it’s like what he imagines maybe a snake might look like shedding its skin. Actually no. Probably not, because there’s no struggle to it, no effort. This is a practiced dance, and Garou’s skin shines pale like snow, flexes hard like a statue. There’s nothing with any kind of give to it…

Badd can’t wait to get his mouth on him.

And then off go the little slipper shoes (cute) and white slacks, and Badd will never, ever get used to how he doesn’t wear anything underneath, or how the length of him swings free, long and hard and rising, especially when he notices how Badd is staring. He strokes it like it’s the handle of a sword.

“Seriously? You haven’t even gotten those stupid parachute pants off yet?” Something in Garou’s voice isn’t actually as annoyed as his words would make it seem. He likes to be watched, Badd fills in. “Let me.”

He doesn’t actually go for the pants. Instead, he travels up under the shirt, across his belly, pushing it up with just his wrists while his hands stroke Badd’s torso. Groping. Studying. Playing. How can he still have all his damn clothes on but feel so exposed?

Finally, Garou lifts the whole red garment off, and turns his head at the pants. Back and forth, a little frustrated. He better not try to rip them off. “These things are fucking stupid,” he grouses. “A corset would be easier to get off.”

Just a few more knots and there. Finally. Garou tugs them off and practically growls when his briefs come into view, like he had put them on this morning just to rile him up. “Why? Is that what ya wanna see me in next time ya decide t’ jump my bones in the woods?” 

The glint of his eyes makes Badd’s entire body burn. “No.” Garou takes the underwear off in a movement that’s so fast it’s like a magic trick, like someone removing a tablecloth from a set table without disturbing a dish. Garou kisses him, possessive, hard. “Only because I would kill anyone else who dared to see you in it.”

Maybe if it were a different time and place, they might be tender. They might take their time, exploring one another’s bodies, the chill of Garou’s skin creating and then subsequently rubbing away goosebumps as they scatter across Badd’s flesh.

But the moment they are naked, and all there is is this, is them, after weeks without contact...the desperation ignites between their bodies. They have to touch, they have to taste, they have to rub and grind.

Badd follows his desire from earlier and at some point he actually licks all the way up Garou’s abs. They feel like river rocks when they’re still soft, before the sun dries them out.

Garou grabs his biceps and squeezes so hard that it almost hurts. He does that a few times, with different parts of his body, actually. His stomach, crushing him back against his front. His thighs, leaving marks. And when he digs his nails into Badd’s chest, he moans and squirms.

“Watch it. Ya want...fuck, ya want me t’ finish already?”

That just urges him on. He bites a pec so hard the Badd sees stars. He almost doesn’t notice Garou touch his cock until he presses a finger presses past his lips. It’s only when Badd swirls his tongue he realizes that he’s tasting himself, that Garou is playing with the tears of arousal that are building up and dripping down the length of him. 

“I...really fuckin’ missed ya, Garou,” he whines, when his mouth is free again. “Seriously.”

“You think you were the only one?” That’s as close as he’s going to get the words back. It’s fine. He’s not with Garou because of his romantic streak anyway. Maybe he’s not with him at all, but even if he isn’t, it’s pretty clear they are both not-with-each-other together. That’s enough for now.

Badd gives him a kick when Garou pushes him down and grabs for his discarded pants. “Swear to god, if ya fuckin’ did all that just to run off…” He knows he won’t, but he’s still frustrated. He wants to keep going. He wants more. 

Garou holds up a travel-sized bottle of lube, and Badd actually laughs. “I just like to be prepared, okay.”

Badd isn’t really given an option on what position to take. Garou takes his legs on his shoulders like it’s nothing at all, shoving two slick fingers inside, both stretching him and strangling out a moan from his throat.

“G, am I...fuck, am I too heavy? Ya don’t gotta…”

“Stop that.” His voice isn’t even strained. “You’re perfect.”

Badd flexes his abs to sit up just enough to snag his wild hair and pull him into a kiss. His prize is a sound of feral pleasure, like a dog having the perfect spot scratched. And that’s not including the third finger inside of him, crooking and seeking the part of him that’s sending his toes curling in the grass.

“Get in,” he groans, reaching out and down between his legs. “Garou, I need it…”

“Okay. Okay, fuck, hang on.” Badd watches him pour lube on his cock, so much that it drips in strings onto the ground, and then he’s shoving it in so hard and so fast that it’s a good thing Badd didn’t give him a hard time about the mess because fuck.

He’s trying not to think of the grass stains. Or the bite marks on either of them. Or any of the other marks that Garou is leaving, deep and passionate, as red as his trademark shirt. He wants to say he’s missed this, and he knows that Garou has too. Their kisses start tasting coppery. It’s like their first fight all over again, but some dreamy version, one that Badd never, ever thought possible.

Garou is so big it feels like he’s splitting him open, and maybe he is, because the flicker of his Fighting Spirit is keeping his stamina up with the (former?) Hero Hunter. “Garou…”

He doesn’t answer. His pupils are tiny sunspots lost in a golden glow.

He should have asked about a condom. Because when Garou comes, he can already tell he’s going to be dripping all the way home, until he gets to the bath. But that thought isn’t stopping him from curling up into a tight ball and then exploding between them, all over their fronts. If anything, it actually makes him come harder than he had thought possible. 

Usually, Garou is ready to go, after he finishes. He’s out the window, or zipping down the hall, or whatever...but right here, in one of the most dangerous places they could be, he stays. A cold marble spoon against his back, a bit sticky, and clutching him in a way, but...he stays.

“I should go,” Badd says after some time, even though long arms are criss-crossed around him like straps. Garou makes a sound like an unhappy cat. “C’mon. Jus’ headin’ home. You can come too.”

Okay, the Human Monster seems sated, and he’s about to pull his pants on when something hard and wide goes into his ass, which is still stretched but also elicits a noise from him. 

“What the fuck is that?!” It’s not his cock. Or his fingers. Badd reaches back and feels the curved end of a plug that’s been rather unceremoniously shoved inside of him. “Where the hell were ya keepin’ that?!”

“While I understand that you like to wear pants that don’t have pockets,” he snarks, slapping one of his asscheeks and making the entire thing move inside of him, recharged electric heat coming from his toes and up to his eyes, “not all of us feel the same way. They are very helpful for carrying things like lube and toys and whatnot…”

Badd glares, and he’s not sure why, but he pulls his pants up the rest of the way. The walk to the train isn’t easy, and when someone offers ‘the best hero Metal Bat-san’ a seat, Garou shoves him into it, and for a second, his eyes roll up into his head.

Zenko isn’t home yet, thank god, and Garou backs him up into the bedroom. “You said so yourself,” he points out. “It’s been two weeks.” It’s only because he actually does sound somewhat longing that Badd doesn’t tell him to fuck off so he can go take the thing out and grab a shower.

Garou doesn’t remove it, though. He pushes Badd onto the bed facedown and tears the hakama off (which is fine, since it was never properly put back together). He pours more lube all over him, creating a layer of sheen so thick it catches the afternoon light in the window.

And he’s so glad they are alone, because Badd howls when Garou shoves the beast that is his cock in beside the toy. The bed, freshly clean, is quickly a mess of arousal and lubricant, pouring all over the sheets, not to mention the drool coming from the side of his mouth as it remains perpetually open. 

When Garou comes, his fluids explode in all directions, and he wrenches his head up to kiss him like it’s a punch in the mouth. They’re both all in when it comes to making up for lost time.

[harryandmolly]

The Emancipation of Ginny ~ 7

summary: shawn and ginny could’ve ruined everything six months ago, and sticking together despite their past could make or break them now as ginny stays on as his personal assistant. but what happens on tour doesn’t stay on tour.

warnings: Language, champagne, redheads

WC: 5.5k

Shawn’s lips part in shock when Ginny stands and practically leaps on the blonde girl at the bar who he too noticed has been checking her out all night. He watches as Ginny turns on the charm, leaning into her ear with a smile to tell her her name with a soft, whispered giggle. She takes the woman’s hand and shakes it slowly, holding intense eye contact. He sneers watching the blonde go sparkle-eyed and blushy. He knows that face. He’s made that face a lot for Ginny.

His friends are elsewhere, distracted by the night. It’s a great bar. Everyone’s having fun. He was having fun up until about five minutes ago. Now, with a quickly warming glass of expensive whiskey in his fist watching someone’s hand flirt up the thigh of the woman who haunts him, he’s not having fun.

+

Bianca is a perfectly good sport when Ginny wakes her up clunking into her shoes with a guilty smile. She half-heartedly offers breakfast and it’s clear if Ginny takes her up on it she’ll be very put out. With a sleepy wave, Ginny is out the door, dying phone in hand, squinting at the bluish light of morning when she steps out on the very sketchy corner somewhere off the high street.

She heaves a sigh. Her feet are sore. Her lips are swollen. Her mind is numb.

Leaning over a rubbish bin, she empties at least some of last night’s mistakes on top of some smashed-up old pizza boxes, coughing and clearing her throat. She straightens up, shakes her misshapen curls out of her face and marches off to face her walk of shame.

Mercifully, because something has to go right in Ginny’s life right now, her mum is out at the farmer’s market when she comes back to shower and change so she’s not around to give her the eyes (you know the ones) for staying out all night and coming home in such a state.

She doesn’t have time to get cute. She has to get back to the hotel to get Shawn on a plane back to Toronto. She only has time to look like she survived the night.

She also definitely doesn’t have time to think too hard. Thank god.

Before long, she’s outside Shawn’s hotel door with breakfast attempting to knock gently with her elbow because he’s probably still asleep. She bumps her arm against the door a few times before maneuvering the Pret bag onto her lifted knee so she can slip her extra keycard into his door.

“Need help?”

She nearly jumps out of her skin, tightening her grip on the coffee tray awkwardly so it nearly tips. She wobbles, breakfast sandwiches on her makeshift lap table weedling. Shawn grabs both from her before she can lose control of them.

She flips her hair out of her face to turn. He’s wearing a boyish smirk framed by warm pink cheeks and a sweaty brow. He got into the gym early. She clears her throat.

“Idiot,” she chuckles.

“Nah. Would’ve been stupid if I didn’t know I could catch ‘em.”

She sighs and lets them into his room, holding his door open for him to carry their food inside.

“Thanks for this,” he hums, holding up her offering.

She shrugs. “You pay me for it, mate.”

Shawn flinches, not at her tone, she guesses, but at her use of the casual term he thought they shed. She aims her gaze at her feet and listens to him crumple the wax paper around his croissant sandwich.

“You’re up early,” she points out.

He shrugs, his back to her. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Her jaw tightens. She nods and shoves her hands in her pockets. “Oh. Maybe you’ll sleep on the plane.”

He’s going home for a week and honestly, it probably couldn’t have come at a better time. They could probably use a little space. Between recording and Ibiza and all the meetings Shawn’s been taking trying to plan out every thirty second increment of his future, they’ve both been wearing thin. Their relationship is showing the strain. It’ll give her time to stay in London and spend real time with both her parents, separately of course, and Hannah. She’s reminded momentarily of The Plan they need to riddle out.

He shrugs again, even more half-heartedly, like the energy it takes to communicate with her is more and more taxing every minute. She runs her tongue along her top row of teeth and fiddles with her septum piercing, flipping it up and down.

“Are you packed, then?”

He finally turns around and nods, plunking down gracelessly on the end of his unmade bed, coffee in one hand, food in the other. He jams a bite in his mouth.

“Dunno where my passport is though,” he mumbles.

She smiles and cocks her head warmly. “I have it.”

He looks up, adams apple bobbing as he swallows. He goes a little pinker under his eyes and ducks his head. “Thanks, Gin.”

They eat in not quite comfortable silence. It’s not the silence that’s unusual. Ginny and Shawn spend time in silence pretty often, probably due to the fact that it’s very rarely quiet when they’re around other people. It’s the space that’s weird. Ginny’s in an armchair next to the bed, Shawn’s on the far end of the mattress. They could pass it off as polite distance put in place to protect Ginny from Shawn’s post-gym stench but they’d both know it was just a convenient excuse.

There’s real space here neither of them knows how to bridge. So they sit and they eat.

Shawn finishes first, more fidgety than usual as he downs his sandwich in only a few bites. He stands and strips off his shirt, tossing it on top of his suitcase as he kicks at his sneakers like a teenage boy. She focuses on her coffee and not his sweaty chest.

“I’ll be out in a minute. We won’t be late,” he assures her.

When he shuts himself in the bathroom, she heaves a sigh and throws herself onto the bed with the remains of her sandwich and coffee. She ignores the way the sheets smell like him and curls up to take stock.

As she sinks into the flimsy hotel pillow, her curls buffeting out around her eyes to shield her from the world, Ginny uses her yoga training to focus on her body. When she takes the time, she realizes she feels… good. Physically, her muscles don’t seem to hold the same weight and tension they did -- that knot in her upper back is gone. Ginny wonders with a smirk if Bianca’s weight riding her face finally did the trick.

Mentally, things are foggier. She closes her eyes. She doesn’t think she feels sorry. She doesn’t think she wishes that Shawn didn’t see her hand slip around Bianca’s hip on their way out of the bar. She doesn’t think she regrets being physically close with someone in a way she’s really missed. She thinks she maybe needed it. Most of all, she doesn’t regret doing something for her.

Ginny has made a living being exactly what people need. She’s a good fit for it -- she doesn’t take the work personally. She takes every opportunity to learn about the business. She’s been on fun teams with kind people who treat her fairly. All that said, she spends most of her time serving her friends’ needs. They do what they can to serve hers, but it’s not enough. Ginny has to help herself, too.

She rolls onto her back. What do I need?

On a fundamental level, Ginny has all she needs. She has shelter, food and her health. She has friends and family and adventure. And she has some dreams.

She squeezes her eyes shut against some knee-jerk tears. Those dreams are old, dust-covered and left to rot in a corner of her brain where her ambition hasn’t reached. She loves those dreams somehow in the same deep, infinite way that she loves herself. But those dreams scare the shit out of her.

She’s been happy enough thinking of those dreams as just that, not uncovering them and directing them back toward the center of her focus where she can aim the blinding spotlight of her drive. Why change that now?

She’s deep in thought when Shawn emerges from the steaming bathroom with a towel slung around his waist. He finds her sprawled on his bed, eyes closed, jaw tight. He frowns and, without thinking too hard about it, he leans down a little to cup his hand around her ankle gently, rubbing his thumb into the firm bone.

“You ok?”

Ginny blinks and sits up on tented fingers, looking up at his face. She nods slowly.

“I’ll be ok. I’ll let you change.”

She stands and straightens up beside him. He’s watching her with concern plain on his face. She lets her eyes drift shut under the weight of her sigh. She leans into him, feels his hand come automatically, chastely to her waist to support her. He holds his breath. She presses her cheek to his, unbothered by the way his curls drop rivulets of water down her face. After only a moment or two, she pulls away with a tired smile.

“Knock on the door when you’re ready for me,” she says over her shoulder. He has no time to stop her, to look right into her eyes and try to understand where she just went before the heavy door swings shut.

He nearly stumbles to sit. His stuttering heart drops into his stomach. He plants his feet into the carpet, willing himself to feel grounded. He drops his head in his hands and counts his breaths.

And then he gets up, putting his dreams into the corner of his own mind.

+

Ginny rolls over. She glances at the clock on the bedside table and groans.

“Love, you promised.”

Her words are muffled against the pillow. Shawn winces and bites his lip, turning his head from where he’s perched on the end of his bed in Toronto, pulling on his running shoes.

“I know, I’m sorry, I have a problem.”

“Hi, my name is Shawn and I am a gymaholic,” she mutters, eyes still shut, into the pillow that smells like his shampoo. She shifts comfortably, settling back in.

Shawn watches her, heart full to bursting in his jittery chest. Despite the late night with her, he’s antsy. He has to get a workout in or he’s going to lose it. He’s just sorry it means less time in bed with her. His her.

He stands, shoes tied, hands out apologetically, “I know, I know. Sooner I leave, sooner I come back. I’ll stop and get breakfast at that French bistro, the one with the whole wheat almond croissants.”

Ginny opens her eyes suspiciously. “Keep talking.”

With her unspoken approval, Shawn brightens, scurrying around his bedroom collecting his keys and jacket. “And when I get back, we’ll eat in bed and watch a movie and take a nap and screw until we fall asleep again.”

Ginny sits up fully, sheets falling around her hips. Her hair is swept up in a pineapple, held up by a blood red scarf that she lets him take when he has to spend nights without her.

She’s perfect.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Mendes.”

He winks and waves, heading for the door. Ginny looks down and sees his phone wedged beside his pillow.

“Hey, you forgetting something?” she calls.

He looks back at her blankly. At her raised eyebrows, he turns on his heel and books it back to the bed, planting a knee beside her. He hoists himself onto the mattress, catching himself on his hands to steady his smooth but very firm kiss flat against her lips. She whimpers in surprise and thumbs across his cheek. He hangs on just long enough for her to think he’s changing his mind about leaving, but he pulls back with a flush.

“Kay. I’m gone.”

She holds up his phone with a smirk. Realization dawns on his pretty face. He chuckles, ducking his head, then grabs the phone and pecks her again. The way he hurries out the door has her falling back into his very fluffy pillows with a contented sigh. He already wants to come back to her.

+

Shawn is… jonesing.

That’s the best way to describe how he’s acting right now. He knows it. He can acknowledge how pathetic it feels. He misses Ginny like a junkie misses a fix.

He hasn’t had a ton of time to himself since he got back to Canada. First things first, he went straight to his mum and dad’s house and slept in his childhood bed for almost 12 hours. He woke up a little delirious but mum made toad in the hole. He sat on the couch with Aaliyah and let her kick his ass at Mario Kart (or so he told himself). They spent the day lazing around the house as a family before he left for the city again to meet up with the guys at one of their haunts.

He didn’t make it 28 hours before drafting a text to her.

He didn’t send it, even if it was a simple, innocuous “hey how’s home?” It felt like they had an unspoken agreement when they hugged goodbye outside security at Heathrow, that they both needed a little space. Time to regroup.

But now he’s alone, his first morning back in his condo in too long and he finds himself thinking about the times she came with him, made herself at home in his home. He took that for granted, he thinks bitterly, shaking his head at the cavalier way he’d crawl out of bed to get to the gym. He thinks he’d give anything to have those minutes or hours back, lying in bed with her, the little spoon to her big spoon.

He tilts his head back onto the arm of his couch and sprawls, his phone buzzing away on his stomach through his cozy pink hoodie. He ignores it.

He’s so frustrated he could scream. He’s the one that did this to them, anyway. He hasn’t forgotten that. He felt something wrong and he took a step back for himself. For a few months, he was so sure he did the right thing, even if it hurt. He did it for himself, so that’s ok, right?

But he always missed her. She could be sitting beside him, long legs crossed, her head on her fist as she slept upright in an airport lounge seat and he’d miss her. God, she felt so far away sometimes. How did this happen to them? Sometimes it’s like nothing has changed at all, they know each other inside and out and it’s so clear how much they love each other, in all the ways you can love someone.

And other times they’re both with other people, getting their needs met. That’s how he thinks of it, anyway. The girls he’s taken home haven’t been people he wanted to get to know. To be fair, he hasn’t gotten the impression they’ve wanted to know him either.

But Ginny leaving with that blonde the other night was more of a wake up call than it should’ve been. He should’ve been prepared for this. He should’ve known she wasn’t going to be celibate and at his beck and call forever. That’s insane for several reasons. He knows that.

God, he’s selfish. He’s a selfish ass. He should’ve let her leave when she wanted to after he broke up with her in the middle of tour. How could he not let her leave?

He thinks about the things he said to Brian the other night after Ginny left the bar. They sat in a booth, liquor in hand, talking quietly. Brian’s rarely serious but he knows how to pull it together when he sees Shawn needs him. He hasn’t seen Shawn look quite so needy in a while.

“Why did you end it then, man? I don’t get it, none of us do. You guys… I mean, I know you weren’t together long, but fuck. You know?”

Shawn wades through Brian’s jumbled question in a way only a longtime friend can. He nods miserably, shifting a hand into his hair. He tugs hard to ground himself.

“I think…” Shawn answers shakily, downing another glug of whiskey, “God, Bri, I think she’s the one. And I got scared. I’m not ready.”

He can’t stop thinking about that. He’s never let himself think about it that way, much less say it out loud.

He feels like a fool. Millions of people, his beloved fans, have watched him blubber for years about wanting to fall in love, wanting to feel his heart break so he could write about it. He’d stiffen at the way they’d roll their eyes at him and mutter to be careful what he wished for. He knew what he wanted. He wanted to feel. He wanted to love. He wanted to hurt.

He ran away from it the first chance he got.

He closes his eyes and sighs. The disappointment is stifling. So he does what he knows will bring him comfort now, more than anything else.

Shawn: hey how’s home :)

+

Shawn reaches up and taps the ashing tip of the joint against the ceramic plate on the nightstand. He tries not to jostle her as she rests against his chest, her head on his shoulder, her legs between his. She shift anyway, accommodating the flex of his arm.

Since they’re almost down to the filter and have smoked the whole thing at once, they’re both more jello than human, naked in bed in Vienna. He’s playing a show tonight. She has a bunch of calls to make and errands to run.

Shawn’s free hand wanders her body curiously, dipping in between ribs, swirling around her belly button, cupping the full warmth of her breasts while he holds the joint to her lips. She wraps her hand around his wrist and he pulls the joint back, inhaling deeply as she exhales. He smiles with the smoke filling his tired lungs. He likes that they always feel in sync.

Ginny makes a murmuring noise when he skims over a ticklish spot by her collarbones. He slows the path of his hand to soothe her. Her shoulders that went slightly tense soften. Her eyes drift closed. Her lips part with her soft breaths.

Shawn tilts his lips against her ear. “You make me so fucking happy, baby.”

Her eyes open. She drifts into a smile. “Good.”

“All day every day,” he assures her, nodding to himself. She chuckles, bouncing their bodies against the mattress. He’s stoned so it makes him laugh, too.

“Sometimes it’s scary, though,” he confides without thinking. After a beat, Ginny turns her head to look up at him.

“I think if it’s not a little bit scary, we’re not doing it right, my love.”

+

Shawn and Ginny are to meet in New York at Tiffany’s studio space in Williamsburg for his final tux fitting before the Island Records Anniversary Gala on Wednesday. It’s quite the event -- Shawn’s whole team gets to go, including Gin. Tiffany helped her pick a dress and had her fitted when she was passing through London last week during the week off.

The studio is hot and sticky just like the rest of New York City is in late July, which is why everyone and their sister is in the Hamptons this weekend. The city is unusually quiet. Williamsburg is dense with humidity and short on people. Tiffany’s delighted -- she can get here on the Subway in only 20 minutes, she says through a mouthful of pins.

She sits cross-legged at Shawn’s feet, yammering at him like she does when she’s pinning in his trousers or measuring the breadth of his shoulders. He doesn’t know how the hell she’s able to focus when she’s muttering to him like that, but she does a great job, she always does.

Ginny is in the hall on the phone with Anna. He’s got a facial scheduled this afternoon, strategically wedged in a few days before the gala as all estheticians would recommend, and Ginny’s trying to find a time to get him in with Anna for a haircut. He finds, against his will, he’s listening closer to Ginny’s warm West London brogue, thicker after she’s been home for a few days with no Canadian or American accents tainting her speech.

Tiff nudges his leg and he blinks quickly, looking down at her.

“Oh, sorry,” Shawn murmurs, “What?”

Tiff smiles patiently. “I asked if you looked at the ties I sent you.”

“Oh, uhhhh…”

“I like the black,” says Ginny, punctuated by the heavy steel door shutting as she walks back into the room with a placid smile. Shawn can’t help but smile back.

“Let’s go with black,” Shawn murmurs. Tiff offers a conspiratorial wink and goes back to pinning his trousers.

Shawn can feel Ginny’s eyes as she rounds his body, surveying the fit of the tux.

Tiffany’s got him in a deeply blood red Paul Smith tux with slim fitting trousers and, soon, Ginny’s choice of a black silk tie.

“Gin,” Tiff prompts, standing and wincing at her crackling knees, “Did you like the bowtie or the necktie?”

Shawn smirks. Tiffany has dropped the charade of asking him because she knows he’ll just ask Ginny for her opinion. Might as well cut out the middle man.

Ginny wets her lips and cocks her head at his throat, buttoned down under a crisp white shirt.

“Can I see both?”

Tiffany busies herself getting both the ties out. Shawn tugs at his lapels and feels Ginny’s eyes everywhere.

“You look amazing, love,” she assures him, tugging at a wrinkle in his shoulder. He smiles and rocks heel to toe.

“Can you believe I have to wear real shoes and not boots?”

Ginny looks down for confirmation and giggles. “Yeah, but look how shiny them things are! I can see my face.”

He snorts. “You get so much more British when I leave you home for a week.”

She looks up and wrinkles her nose, making her little gold septum ring wiggle. “Cause I don’t have any Commonwealth folk around to bugger up my Queen’s English.”

He rolls his eyes and looks back at himself in Tiffany’s big mirror. He wets his lower lip.

“Have you talked to her at all?” he asks softly, steeling himself.

“Who?” Ginny replies, sounding absent as she inspects the pressing of his trousers.

“The blonde from the bar.”

Ginny’s heart drops out of her body and flops onto his shiny shoes. She blinks rapidly.

“Bianca? N-no. I didn’t even get her number.”

Shawn’s relief is plain on his face. He can feel embarrassed about it later. He locks eyes with Ginny.

“Oh.”

She swallows. “It was just… I dunno. A night.”

Shawn’s lips twitch around words he shouldn’t say. “A good night?”

Too late.

Ginny’s expression doesn’t change. “It was lovely. But… yeah.”

Shawn doesn’t have time to say whatever stupid something was about to roll out of his face next before Tiffany appears with both ties.

He tries on each, or more accurately he lets Tiffany tie them for him, and they all agree the bowtie is more appropriate for the event.

Ginny takes a picture of him beside Tiff to send to Andrew with the caption “Pre spotty boy face!” which makes Shawn elbow her in the side which makes Ginny squeal and threaten to step on his “stupidly shiny shoes.” Tiffany, as referee, ushers Shawn into the changing room to relinquish the suit for final tailoring.

“You two are impossible,” Tiffany huffs with a laugh.

Ginny smiles down at her phone, flipping through her ever-growing inbox. “Don’t I know it.”

+

Unlike many of his industry friends, Shawn loves these kinds of parties. He likes the passed hors d'oeuvres, the expensive champagne, the women in gowns, the men in tuxes. He likes the glittering view of Manhattan out the windows -- they’re so high up in this midtown skyscraper ballroom that he can barely make out the taxis on the gridlocked streets below. He likes the grandness of it, how big and important he feels being passed around from person to Very Important Person.

He likes getting to share it with people, too. He knows some of the guests. He’s said hi to Nick and Demi and The Vamps guys and almost swallowed his tongue when he bumped into Pete Wentz earlier, but he loves living nights like these through his friends’ eyes the most.

Brian is on his right and Andrew is on his left. Geoff is walking around somewhere. Even his whole band is here, chatting it up, rubbing elbows.

So where’s Ginny?

He knew she was planning on coming separately. Tiffany had sent her assistant Erika to help her with her dress. She was supposed to be here half an hour ago. He’s tried texting her. He’s not nervous yet, just antsy.

They make rounds, talking to executives and meeting artists on the Island roster he hasn’t gotten to know yet. The music is predictably great, playing a mix of classics for the older crowd and a blend of hits from the Island family both past and present. He preens for Andrew’s and Brian’s Insta stories when “Lost in Japan” comes on. He grins for boomerangs, tossing back champagne and canapes.

But he wishes she were there. He always wishes she were there. She usually is.

The music changes from The Cranberries to something more familiar. Sweet, ethereal vocals, something close to magic. He smiles and lifts his half-drunk flute of champagne, glancing around again.

He looks up the glossy black staircase to the platform where one of the bars is set up. Beside a crowd of partygoers, beneath the shimmering words of “You’ve Got the Love” by Florence + The Machine, he sees her.

She’s got her wild curls half pinned up, smooth and elegant. She’s draped in black satin that shines proudly under the ballroom’s chandeliers. It’s fitted perfectly to her shape, off the shoulders to display her collarbones and stunning cleavage, hugging close all the way down to a trumpet bottom.

He forgets his sip before he takes it, lowering his glass again. The corner of his mouth lifts. She’s already found him, watching him with a crinkly-eyed smile. He ducks his head shyly, shaking it with a chuckle. He steadies himself and looks back up to see her laughing too.

As the music picks up, Shawn parts through a gap in the crowd and takes the stairs one at a time until he’s standing just below her. From this close, he can smell her coconut oil and see the winged eyeliner that complements her perfect red lips. He takes her hand with a squeeze.

“Wow.”

Her nose twitches. She lets him guide her carefully down the stairs to the amusement and gentle applause of their friends. She laughs and dips into a little curtsey at the bottom of the steps. Shawn lets her go.

“Virginia Dresden, you’re a vision,” Andrew says warmly. She leans up and pecks his cheek in thanks. Each of their many male team members, all of whom have gathered to her like moths to a flame, gush over her appropriately and fawn until more cocktail servers appear with booze and food and they’re distracted again.

Only Shawn remains at her side, smiling like he had something to do with how fucking great she looks.

“You look smug,” she points out.

“Me? Smug?”

“You, smug.”

Shawn exaggerates a disbelieving face because he’s had a little too much champagne for this early in the evening. “Never, Gin. Just proud to be standing next to you is all.”

“Well, by all means, show me off, then.”

Shawn will take that opportunity. Hell yes, he will.

More rounds are made. Andrew appears beside them, and helps to facilitate more official introductions. He and Shawn tag team the “Ginny Dresden Is the Future” campaign, talking about her right beside her like she’s the best thing to happen to artist management this century. She does them proud, she’s no shrinking violet, doling out firm handshakes and engaging in conversation in a way that feels so genuine it’s not schmoozy at all.

Shawn has to actively remind himself she’s not his to be proud of. She’s hers. She’s all Ginny. (But he still feels proud.)

They get separated eventually. Ginny rounds through The Vamps, whom she’s known for a few years, and even gets to chatting with Demi Lovato and her manager. Business cards abound. The night is enjoyable and profitable -- those rarely go hand in hand.

She lets herself sit for awhile because her Jimmy Choos are pinching and the night is running long. She starts to gaze around for her team. Andrew is by the bar with some exec types. The band and Brian have stuck together with The Vamps boys. Geoff is god knows where.

And Shawn…

Ginny feels her brow furrow slightly. She sees him standing a few yards away. His lips are parted. He’s looking over a sea of people. From this angle, Ginny can’t quite tell where, but he looks… entranced.

Her heartbeat picks up curiously, though she reminds herself she doesn’t know what or who he’s looking at.

He starts moving. He’s sliding gracefully through pockets of the rich and famous, single-minded and focused. As he gets further, Ginny’s body edges closer to panic mode, again, she reminds herself, for no reason.

He stops. He bends down slightly, hand outstretched. Ginny sees her hand first. It’s pale and supple with nude, well-kept nails and a simple silver claddagh around the middle finger. He’s looking at the woman who owns it. Ginny’s stomach lurches and she has to cover her mouth because it’s actually, physically dropped open at the look on his face.

She must invite him to join her because he moves to sit and Ginny can finally see her. She’s radiant, glowing pale skin in a white high-necked silk gown studded around the collar with gold accents. Her hair, naturally red, Ginny can tell, is swept half up. She looks as taken with Shawn as he does with her, crossing her legs toward him, leaning onto her elbow to hear him speak.

Ginny doesn’t know how to explain how she knows from ten seconds of watching -- maybe it’s how well she knows him, maybe it’s woman’s intuition, maybe it’s the black magic of a broken heart knowing it’s about to get hurt again. Shawn is not looking to take this woman home tonight. He’s not looking for one night, he’s not looking for a quick and polite goodbye tomorrow morning.

He’s looking at her like he wants to know her middle name, her favorite book, her earliest memory, her scariest nightmare. He’s looking at her for real. He’s looking at her like he wants to see her again.

And she’s looking right back in just the same way.

+

Shawn bounds off the stage, heading straight for her. She braces herself, bending her knees and pressing her short-heeled boots into the floor so she’s ready when he barrels into her, sweeping her up off her feet.

She slings her arms around his shoulders, gripping him hard because he’s slick with sweat. He’s panting in her ear, warm and steady. He doesn’t let her go when they lose the momentum of their spinning bodies. He doesn’t notice the way Andrew taps his shoulder to get him to head toward the dressing room because their bus call is earlier than usual and they don’t have time for this.

Shawn swallows hard and releases a long slow exhale, blowing her curls out of his face. She holds him tighter.

“I love you, Ginny.”

They’re pressed so close he can feel her heart skip a beat. He’s never really felt that before. He thought it was something people make up. When it comes back, it’s pounding harder, thrumming like a hummingbird.

“I love you too, Shawn.”

+

Her name is Sara. She’s 27, from Queens originally, and works in the marketing department at Island. She wants to be an executive someday and call some shots. She’s wearing a Badgley Mischka gown from Rent the Runway and she tugs at the straps and giggles when he asks her slightly more personal questions and it makes him giggle too.

She’s beautiful and she’s sweet and she likes his music and wants to take him out to breakfast at some secret place she knows tomorrow morning.

And it’s so, so easy.

Please support my whole wheat almond croissant habit and buy me a Ko-fi (link on main page)!

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisathot @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @sauveteen

[tatticstudio55]

Daenerys as an anti-Cinderella?

Another asoiaf/fairy tales meta

It’s always fun to wonder which fairy tales goes best with which asoiaf characters (especially the girls, for some reason). For Sansa and Arya, the references are overflowing. With Dany it’s… trickier. Only two – or maybe three – classic tales really fit. Two of those I’ve already talked about in previous posts (Thumbelina and The Fire Bird). There are some general “clues” pointing to Cinderella…

-Viserys, the Anastasia & Drizella duo to Daenerys’s Cinderella

-In ADWD, Cleon the “butcher king” of Astapor make a marriage offer to Daenerys and gift her with a pair of slippers, but

Irri slid the slippers onto Dany’s feet. They were gilded leather, decorated with green freshwater pearls. Does the butcher king believe a pair of pretty slippers will win my hand? “King Cleon is most generous. You may thank him for his lovely gift.” Lovely, but made for a child. Dany had small feet, yet the pointed slippers mashed her toes together.

-Cinderella is named as such for her habit of retreating close to the ashes-filled hearth once her work is done (from “cendres”, the French word for “ashes”). Bettelheim view Cinderella’s behavior as a product of sorrow and grief for her dead mother. For Dany, ash is also linked with sorrow and, first inverted trope, with the mother mourning her dead child:

She could feel the heat inside her, a terrible burning in her womb. Her son was tall and proud, with Drogo’s copper skin and her own silver-gold hair, violet eyes shaped like almonds. And he smiled for her and began to lift his hand toward hers, but when he opened his mouth the fire poured out. She saw his heart burning through his chest, and in an instant he was gone, consumed like a moth by a candle, turned to ash. She wept for her child, the promise of a sweet mouth on her breast, but her tears turned to steam as they touched her skin. – Daenerys, AGOT

There’s also the “Queen of ashes” nickname Dany is sometime dubbed with (more so in the show) and the fact that Cinderella herself is a “queen” of the ashes, somewhat (hence why she’s called “Cinderella”).

-Mirri Maz Duur is an inverted fairy godmother to Dany.

But these are details. Overall, Dany comes off as the anti-Cinderella of asoiaf. This becomes especially apparent in ADWD, where she’s, essentially, a glorified slave to her duties who dreams of escapes with her “prince charming”, i.e. Daario. This all reach a culmination point when she goes to the “ball”, i.e., the grand reopening of the Daznak’s pit. Unlike Cinderella, who’d give anything to attend the ball, Dany would give anything to skip it:

“Even if the pits must open, must Your Grace go yourself?” asked Missandei as she was washing the queen’s hair.

[…]

She would rather have drifted in the fragrant pool all day, eating iced fruit off silver trays and dreaming of a house with a red door, but a queen belongs to her people, not to herself. – Daenerys, ADWD

Whereas the ball meant dreams and freedom for Cinderella, for Dany, it’s the perpetuation of a nightmare. They both present themselves at the event under a veil: a literal one for Dany,

“And over it, the long red veils.” The veils would keep the wind from blowing sand into her mouth. And the red will hide any blood spatters. – Daenerys, ADWD

A metaphorical one for Cinderella, garbed so elegantly that her step mother and half sisters don’t recognize her. This idea of disguise is interesting. For a start, it contrasts with Dany’s refusal to put a veil between herself and Astapor in ASOS. To borrow Clapton’s words on Dany’s white garments in the show, the purpose of the veil is to “remove herself (Dany)” from the situation. Dany’s choice of clothes is a mean of non-attendance, while Cinderella’s costume allows her to go incognito and enjoy the moment. There is the contrasts of colors: Cinderella wears an immaculate, pure white dress (at least in the Disney version), whereas Dany wears yellow silk and a blood-colored veil. Finally, in some versions, the ball attended by Cinderella is a masked ball. This could be significant, since the reopening of the pits prove to be its own kind of masked “ball” (and even more so in the show, where the sons of the Harpy creep inside the pits wearing literal masks):

At the base of the Great Pyramid, Ser Barristan awaited them beside an ornate open palanquin, surrounded by Brazen Beasts. Ser Grandfather, Dany thought. Despite his age, he looked tall and handsome in the armor that she’d given him. “I would be happier if you had Unsullied guards about you today, Your Grace,” the old knight said, as Hizdahr went to greet his cousin. “Half of these Brazen Beasts are untried freedmen.” And the other half are Meereenese of doubtful loyalty, he left unsaid. Selmy mistrusted all the Meereenese, even shavepates.

“And untried they shall remain unless we try them.”

“A mask can hide many things, Your Grace. Is the man behind the owl mask the same owl who guarded you yesterday and the day before?

How can we know?”

“How should Meereen ever come to trust the Brazen Beasts if I do not? There are good brave men beneath those masks. I put my life into their hands.” - Daenerys, ADWD

Behind the drum marched Brazen Beasts four abreast. Some carried cudgels, others staves; all wore pleated skirts, leathern sandals, and patchwork cloaks sewn from squares of many colors to echo the many-colored bricks of Meereen. Their masks gleamed in the sun: boars and bulls, hawks and herons, lions and tigers and bears, fork-tongued serpents and hideous basilisks. – Daenerys, ADWD

In fact, some descriptions of the event, when taken by themselves, almost make it sound like there’s an actual ball happening inside the pit:

Across the pit the Graces sat in flowing robes of many colors, clustered around the austere figure of Galazza Galare, who alone amongst them wore the green. – Daenerys, ADWD

We could even dig further: dancing, in asoiaf, is often used as a euphemism for dying, or is used in scenes going heavy on the death-related subtext. What do people do in a ball? They dance. What do people do in the pits? They die.

“Barsena is very quick,” Reznak said. “She will dance with the boar, Magnificence, and slice him when he passes near her. He will be awash in blood before he falls, you shall see.” – Daenerys, ADWD

Cinderella’s ball is a dream and Dany’s “ball” is a nightmare, but both are woken from it, for the twelfth stroke of midnight will lift the charm. Fun fact, if I’m not mistaken, there were twelve fights planned that day: Khrazz, the Spotted Cat, a “Lysene youth with long blond hair”, an elephant, a bull, a mock battle, a folly with dwarfs, Barsena, a folly with old women and “three more matches”, according to Hzdahr… yup, that makes twelve. Each fight is a “stroke of midnight” for Dany, pulling her from the nightmare, urging her to wake up. At Barsena, she snaps. The charm falls, her carriage turns into a pumpkin and her gown into rags:

She lifted her veil and let it flutter away. She took her tokar off as well. The pearls rattled softly against one another as she unwound the silk.

“Khaleesi? ” Irri asked. “What are you doing?”

“Taking off my floppy ears.” – Daenerys, ADWD

In her haste to flee, she loses a shoe:

“Let me go!” Dany twisted from his grasp. The world seemed to slow as she cleared the parapet. When she landed in the pit she lost a sandal. Running, she could feel the sand between her toes, hot and rough. Ser Barristan was calling after her. – Daenerys, ADWD

The aftermath finds her alone in the grass sea, wearing literal rags (again, not unlike Cinderella), in a dream-like state and wondering what just happened. Unlike Cinderella, Dany has no desire to relive the ball and would much rather stay where she is, with her rags and her animal companion. Both girls experience an unpleasant return to reality. Cinderella must go back to being a slave to her step-mother and half-sister, while Dany knows she must go back to Meereen (which doesn’t quite work out, but).  

Yet for everything nightmarish about it, the reopening of the fighting pits meant something Dany deeply dreamed for and desired: peace. No more bloodshed in the streets of Meereen. The safety of her people. She wanted it and she got it, until the whole farce blew up in her face and the pit of Daznak turned into a pumpkin. I think that’s when she realized it: that the peace was never real, that Hizdahr’s “peace” was an illusion (as many before me have pointed out), a veil that got lifted with the twelve death blows of the pit.

[kessielrg]

[Mighty No 9] Pacemaker

Summary: In which Beck and Lei have a day out together, and ask some rather uncomfortable questions.

Rating: K

Word Count: 2,131

I know I've only met you once or twice, But maybe you can help me out. 'Cause I don't really want some good advice, Just some help to shed my doubts.

-Jaws, Magnet (Even Johansen)

. . .

Beck was not ready for this. He thought he was, and he even looked ready for it, but once he stepped up to the Ladan-Blaise front door, he knew that he was so, so not ready for this. With his hand shaking, Beck reached for the doorbell and gave it a ring. The wait for someone to answer the door seemed like years, although it only took a good three minutes. At first, the person who answered the door only opened it at the tiniest bit.

“Who is it?” the voice asked. Beck immediately recognized it as the voice of Leilani Blaise, 19 year old robotic genius and child convict, now currently under the supervision of SANDA Technologies and Doctor Soichiro Sanda himself.

“I-it's me, Beck.” the little robot said. “I'm here to pick up Leilani Blaise.”

Weighing her options a bit, Leilani stepped out into full view, allowing Beck to see what she was wearing in full; she had on a light blue tunic dress paired with dark washed capri pants. Her hair had been pulled back into a loose ponytail, and wore no makeup- the lack of said makeup made her eyes look sunken in and her eyes almost lifeless.

“You look awful.” Beck told her without even considering his words.

“Been fighting a cold.” Leilani mused. “I've been enjoying a cocktail of NyQuil and sleeping pills for the past two weeks.”

“O-oh...” Beck stammered. “That... doesn't seem very… healthy.”

Leilani smirked. “It's not.” she even retorted. With a small chuckle, she started to head back inside the house. “Let me get my shoes. I'm pretty much ready when you are.”

“What about Ray?” Beck questioned, trying to still get a peak at the human as she decided on her footwear by the door.

“Sleeping.” Leilani insisted as she chose a pair of Grecian-style sandals. “Still trying to work on a new energy source that doesn't reject every xel replacement I give her. It's an uphill battle for both of us.”

Beck gave a small nod despite her not being able to see it. Once her shoes were properly on her feet, Leilani came out side- making sure that she locked the door behind her. Awkwardly, Beck gestured for her to go first for the limo waiting for them and the human didn't act twice on the idea.

“Where is Sanda taking me today?” Leilani mused as they left the Ladan-Blaise drivelane.

“No where.” Beck told her, trying to sound bold but only sounding nervous. “I thought it would a be a good idea if we just… spent the day together.  I-is that okay?”

Leilani looked at him. “Where are we going?” she then asked- her tone flat and incredibly unamused. Her expression was the most horrifying part; her eyes should have shot daggers right into Beck's artificial heart and killed him right there.

“A-a cafe.” he quickly told her. “It's a little far out from here, b-but I think you'd like it.”

To the bot's relief, Leilani looked away from him to look out the window. She said nothing further to him, and at the moment, Beck believed it was a sign of approval. But it also welcomed a bitter silence between the two of them that the bot couldn't handle. He couldn't help but look over at her before turning away again, because staring was rude, and he really didn't want to step on her toes today. And there was still so many questions that were stuck in his mind that he needed to ask. And what better time to start with them than now? R-right…?

“Do you…” Beck started, faltered, but tried to press on anyway, “Do you think that if we… if we had met before… Before...”

“Before Seismic impaled my mother?” Leilani cut in, saying exactly what Beck didn't want to.

Beck looked down at his toes before agreeing. “Y-yeah. Do you think we would have been… friends?”

Leilani was silent for a long time- making Beck fear that she had shut him out. She hadn't, she was just considering her answer. “I… I don't know.” she finally admitted. “I have no idea Beck.”

The silence returned after that. It felt worse than the first time.

“A part of me wants to say,” Leilani continued, as if she were speaking a thought now, “That as long as Trinity happened, then no. We wouldn't. It just… It just wouldn't have been possible.”

Beck gave a small nod. “I understand.” he agreed. This time, Beck turned to look at Leilani and didn't look away. He was lost in the thought of when he first saw her six years ago; Trinity had already rampaged through the country, so he hadn't even gotten the chance to meet Leilani when she was truly happy. The human girl had been smaller then, while he was still the same. Same height, same voice, same ability to assimilate fellow robots...

“I wish I had the ability to grow up.” Beck spoke in thought, not meaning to have said it out loud, “Or at least be a bit taller.”

That was when Leilani snapped her head around to look at Beck as if he were going insane.

“What did you just say?” she demanded, despite hearing him well enough. Beck didn't answer- her sudden reaction was surprised him, and he would be lying if he said that Leilani didn't look scary when she was scared.

To break the tension, the driver of the limo spoke to them saying, “We have arrived at our destination.”

Neither Beck or Leilani wanted to break the looks they were giving each other, but it was the robot who turned to the driver to say, “Th-thank you.” When Beck turned back, Leilani had already left the limousine. Nervous, Beck did the same and was easily relieved when he saw that the human was waiting for him at the cafe's entrance.

“Are you ready?” Beck asked Leilani when he was close enough to her.

“I assume you're buying?” the human then asked, looking down at him. “Or say you're buying but it's really coming from your creator's bank account?”

Beck threw a hand behind his head as he nervously chuckled. Knowing the truth, Leilani raised an eyebrow at Beck for a moment before giving an amused smirk.

. . .

At this hour, the cafe was all but empty; which was exactly what Beck had hoped for. He was able to find him and Leilani a spot that was still pretty out of the way- just in case someone really loud decided to come in.

“I'll get our food.” Beck offered once he made sure Leilani was comfortable. “What do you want?”

“Hot chocolate- extra cream with half a scoop of mini marshmallows.”

“Anything to eat?”

“Do they have any powdered coffee cakes here?”

Beck nodded.

“Then maybe two of those- it depends on how wide they made them.”

“Got it.” Beck agreed. “I'll be right back.”

It did not take long for Beck to get what Leilani requested and head back to their table. The human did not object to the homemade food, immediately digging in as if she hadn't had anything to eat in weeks. Beck patiently waited for the human to finish before he finally asked the question he had been dying to ask for the past year;

“Why did you take on a pseudonym before Doctor White and Doctor Sanda found you in Maine?”

For a horrifying moment, Leilani sat so still that Beck would have assumed he had taken Cryosphere's unnerving Cabbage Patch doll out for brunch instead of a human.

“Is that why you brought me here?” she then asked in a still, dark voice. “To know why I didn't want to be found after being falsely accused at such a tender age?”

“N-no!” Beck desperately tried to disagree. “I… I just want to know. W-when you were in hiding because Ray had abducted you-”

“Not the word I would have used,” Leilani lightly snickered, “But yeah?”

“When Ray hid you, you used the name Leila Ladan to keep everyone away from you for awhile. Why that name?”

Leilani absently circled her finger around the rim of her cup. She looked Beck in the eye when she told him in an emotionless tone, “Ladan was my mother's maiden name.”

For some reason, that wasn't the explanation Beck had been expected; no, no. This one was worse.  He could feel himself shrink as he let out a small, “Oh...”

“And Leila,” Leilani went on, “It's only two letters off from my real name. It's a kinda bad pseudonym in retrospect- but it worked.”

“It was a nice name...” Beck tried to offer.

“Same I'll have no reason to ever need it again.” Leilani agreed with a humored snort.

“Can… can I call you Leila?” the little bot found himself asking. “A-as a nickname of course!”

Leilani cocked an interested eyebrow. “You're a really weird robot, you know that? First you say you want to grow up, and now you want to give me a pet name? If I didn't know any better, I'd almost think you had a crush on me.”

There was a solid three seconds from the time the idea was said out loud to when the truth hit her. Color drained from Leilani's face before she marveled, “My god. You do have a crush on me, don't you?”

“Maybe it's guilt...” Beck mumbled, mostly to himself.

“You really don't know?”

Mighty Number Nine refused to look at the heiress of Blaise Factories and Company. Leilani ran a shaking hand through her hair, refusing to look away from the android sitting across from her. It made so much sense- and yet, it made things so, so much worse.

“Every day, I wonder what goes through your creator's head when he designs your AI.” she soon admitted. “And every day I just grow more horrified of what he could do if he actually thought his plans through. I love Raychel -we'd give our lives for each other- but I'm worried. She can lie to herself and I hate knowing that if something went wrong, that she'd… make herself...”

“I don't know if I've ever lied before.” Beck said, purposely not letting Leilani complete her thought. This did not help Leilani's perception of the situation at the moment.

“Beck, I don't think you understand; the Mighty Numbers are the most dangerous robots in the Battle Colosseum. The only way you guys lose is if you purposely throw the fight.”

Beck must have given her a funny look, because she continued.

“I've seen Pyrogen throw a fight before. Cryosphere, Dynatron, and Brandish are known to do it too.” She gave a small pause before looking Beck right in the eye. “You have too. That last match you had that Sanda made me oversee- you threw the match because you saw me in the audience. Didn't you?”

“I...” Beck faltered, but could find that he had no answer. “I did.”

Leilani stood a bit straighter before leaning closer to Beck, as if this next part of their conversation was top secret information. “You know what the most disturbing this is about you Mighty Numbers?”

“What?”

“If Raychel is attracted to me, and you apparently are too, does that mean the others are as well? And if that's the case, what does that mean of William Blackwell when Cryosphere was activated the same year I was born?” Leilani gave a rather unnerved sigh. “I think I'm just being paranoid. Or full of myself. Maybe both. But you Mighty Numbers… You're something else. You're your own identity. The Mighty Numbers as a whole, you guys… You're all so terrifying.”

Beck hung his head in shame, almost acknowledging that he knew how dangerous the Mighty Numbers could be had it not be for several laws and a decent morality system. With her pressing issues out in the open, Leilani relaxed a little before looking down at her empty cup.

“You know how only my dad can call me Leilai?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, there's only one person in this world that is allowed to call me Leila.”

“W-who's that?”

Leilani looked at Beck- it was an expression that was trying to be hard, but it was gentle instead. That was when the realization hit the bot.

“Y-you mean it? I can?!”

“Just promise me one thing.” the young woman then told him. “Never lie to me, Raychel, and -most importantly- yourself. On anything. Got it?”

“O-of course!” Beck eagerly agreed. “Anything you say!”

[letitrainathousandflames-archive]

(tw: abuse m/, family m/, drug m/, depression m/, suicide m/)

Hi, hello there. I’m Luiza. A lot of people know me from the blog letitrainathousandflames on tumblr (some of you cuties even call me by the nickname letti)

I can’t tell you the whole story of my life, but I can tell you I was a happy kid. I played videogames and I had a tamagotchi and I used to dance to Spice Girls and Avril Lavigne. I was a pretty normal kid until my early teens, when I was touched without my consent. It wasn’t rape. It wasn’t even sexual, in a sense. It was the kind of touching I even allow some people to have on casual nights out at parties. But it wasn’t consensual, and that’s what hurt me the most.

Any girl reading this knows how it is to be harrassed or abused. Shame. Self blame. Feeling tainted. Dirty. That’s why we don’t come forward, that’s why we don’t speak. About a year later, my mother had no respect for my boundaries and read my journal, confronting me about it. When I confirmed what happened to her, her first words weren’t of comfort. Or understanding. Or even justified rage at my abuser. They were the worst thing a thirteen year old girl coming forward with an abuse accusation can hear: That I had imagined it, that it didn’t happen.

I must add that to my mother, family image matters more than anything. Having a daughter who had been sexually abused would tarnish her notion of a perfect family. So her logical conclusion was to lock herself in denial, denying my experience and my need for acceptance, for love, support, understanding.

That same year I became very attracted to the goth aesthetic and got really into metal music and anime. I became intensely obsessed with fiction. Lord of The Rings, Sailor Moon and its worlds became the safe place in my head I could always run to. I began writing fanfiction and drawing a lot, and, being a shy kid since always, I became an even more reserved person. My schoolmates knew nothing about me that I didn’t purposefully share.

My mother wouldn’t let me go out in band tees and spiked bracelets and would force me to wear what she wanted me to. Shed laugh at my clothes and would systematically toss away my black nail polish and lipstick. She wanted a perfect daughter that I just couldn’t be. Mind you, these senseless attacks on my appearance happened even as I had more or less good grades, wouldn’t go out, smoke, never ever step out of line. I was the lamest goody-two shoes you can imagine. It never mattered. Even now I still don’t know how I managed to never snap – I was handling the weight of my past abuse all on my own with no one to share, while under extreme pressure to be someone else other than who I was, wanting to experiment and kiss boys while simultaneously terrified of them because of what had happened.

A year later I got a boyfriend. He was a kind person, but looking back now I see he was very controlling and I’m glad I left that relationship. Still, I’m thankful for his support for me to get a nose ring, a bunch of earrings and to dye my hair neon-red, something I’ve always wanted. It was an odd thing, the contrast of emotions. The joy I felt looking at the mirror and the subsequent sinking feeling in my chest when I got home and my mother said, and I quote “I can’t bear to look at you.”

That stuck with me. Call me a grudgy bitch but I’ll never forget the disgust on her face. Her face. My own mother.

Unimportant, but months later, I was mugged and refused to give the robber my money. I felt a rush in laughing in the face of a potentially deadly situation, and luckily a passerby helped me out so I wasn’t injured, and the mugger fled. A few months after, I came down with a severe depression, of which the primary symptom was me throwing up evertything I tried to eat. I almost died.

Depression is to be dead inside. To be a hollow, lifeless shell walking around in absolute crushing sadness all. Day. Long. I cursed the sun rising in the horizon every morning. I’d rub my feet so hard against each other under the blankets i’d get rashes. I lost a semester at college. And at some point i realized I just wanted to die. I’m a fashion major, I have these huge fabric scissors that i hid away deep in my wardrobe because I was beginning to have fantasies of stabbing myself with them and I was afraid I would actually do it at some point.

At one point, therapy wasn’t doing shit for me and I was taking 8 different kinds of medication, none of which fixed my crying fits and suicidal thoughts I still don’t know how I never acted on those. My mother took advantage of my fragile state and convinced me to dye my hair brown again.

I stopped drawing for good. And art was the light of my existence, i needed it more than air. And it was gone.

When throwing up swithed to eating too much and never feeling full, I gained about 22 pounds and was more dead than alive. I couldn’t feel a thing, and when I did, it was crushing sadness. That was when someone very dear whom I had seen go through addiction and full recover recommended me their therapist. After a lot of sessions we came to the conclusion that, “hey, your mother messed you up good in the head” and, not less importantly “you allowed her to get real deep in your head”.

The next thing she said was “now we fix this. We unrevel this mess and clean your head off concerns that are not yours. You’re harboring her concerns. Your father’s. Your boyfriend’s. Don’t you think it’s time to live for yourself?”

Therapy doesn’t help you back to your feet from crippling depression in a couple of days, okay? I’m making this quick for the sake of storytelling. And, long story short, I slowly went back to drawing. I got a beautiful tattoo to celebrate my recover and the ownership of my body, that I was claiming as mine once and for all. Not my abuser’s. Not my mother’s. Mine. And I dyed my hair again, flaunting it every time my mother wrinkled her nose at it. Spite is the mightiest tool to recovery, my friends. Use it.

A lot of things have changed since then. I got a haircut and even stopped dying my hair out of my own will, I discovered myself as a bisexual, I even came out to some people. I made a ton of friends on tumblr, I got mad obsessed with star wars... Life’s not entirely good, not yet, because I still live with my controlling, abusive and invasive mother. But it’s not bad either. I have fun drawing and writing fanfics. I have good people who care about me. And some people even said I inspired them. That means a whole lot to me!

I don’t really know why I told you all this. I guess I really needed to vent. Perhaps I’ll even regret posting this tomorrow. But it’s my story and I’m not ashamed of it. Right now I’m looking for a job so that I can leave this abusive home for good but so far, nothing. If you can and want to help me out by donating me any amount, just click this link to my ko-fi account.

If you read up to here, thank you, and I’m sorry for talking so much. And if you ever need, don’t hesitate to send me a message. You heard me vent, I’ll hear you vent too.

Stay safe, everyone.

I love you very, very much.

[cosaimai]

Actually, 1-170, game 😝

why do you subject me to this torture lmao 

but imma do it regardless (leaving out all the ones i’ve already answered ofc)

3: Do you have a favorite clothing style?

Goth of course

4: What was your favorite video game growing up?

hmm i didnt play many video games when i was super young so prob bioshock infinite

5: What three things/people do you think of most each day:

my best friend (@lauren-pc), my fictional crushes… (lets not judge me alright, i dont have a life), does the ocean count?

8: What is your Greek personality type? [Sanguine, Phlegmatic, Choleric, or Melancholic]

melancholic 

9: Are you ticklish?

yes

10: Are you allergic to anything?

lavender

11: What’s your sexuality?

asexual (homoromantic)

12: Do you prefer tea, coffee, or cocoa?

tea

13: Are you a cat or dog person?

hmm prob dog bc even tho cats are adorable their fur tends to bother me since it sheds a lot more easily (which is why i love hairless cats)

18: How much do you weigh? [Only ask this if you know the user doesn’t mind!]

I havent checked in a while since I don’t own a scale, but I think around 91-95lbs

19: Do you believe in ghosts/spirits?

yes

21: Are you religious?

nope lol

22: Pet peeves?

smacking, chewing w your mouth open, not using a coaster

23: Would you rather be nocturnal or diurnal [opposite of nocturnal]?

nocturnal !!

24: Favorite constellation?

hmmm prob Ursa Major

25: Favorite star?

Deneb or maybe Beta Draconis

26: Do you like ball-jointed dolls?

I am scared of all dolls, so, no

27: Any phobias or fears?

spiders & most bugs, also more specifically, dying in a sinking car

28: Do you think global warming is real?

ye

31: Do you get scared easily?

nope

32: How many pets have you own in your lifetime?

six i think

33: Blog rate? [You’ll rate the blog of the one who’s asking.]

11/10 :)

34: What is a color that calms you?

ocean blue ♥

35: Where would you like to travel and/or live?

in Washington state, preferably close to the coast

36: Where were you born?

texas

38: Introvert or extrovert?

extreme introvert

39: Do you believe in horoscopes and zodiacs?

ehh, they’re interesting and i do think you can apply them to people, so maybe ig

40: Hugs or kisses?

ughh i guess hugs

41: Who is someone you would like to see/visit right now?

my best friend

42: Who is someone you love deeply?

again, my best friend

43: Any piercings you want?

spider bites (which i’m getting soon !!), daith, conch, maybe an industrial, maybe a nostril piercing 

44: Do you like tattoos and piercings?

if you can’t tell, yes lol

45: Do you smoke or have you eiver done so?

I don’t, the closest I’ve come is vaping bc my friend’s step brother & his friend wanted me to try his vape

48: A sound you really love?

heavy rain/thunderstorms

49: Can you do a backflip?

um lmao no

50: Can you do the splits?

I think I still have my right splits, not my left or middle tho

51: Favorite actor and/or actress?

i guess I’d have to say Jake Gyllenhaal tho

53: How are you feeling right now?

i am tired

54: What color would you like your hair to be right now?

probably red or black, idk

55: When did you feel happiest?

probably last year, almost anytime during history class

56: Something that calms you down?

ASMR videos

57: Have any mental disorders? [Only ask this if you know the user doesn’t mind!]

none that are prof-dxed

58: What does your URL mean?

 oh i’ve told this tale many times on this blog, but to tell it once again: I used to go by the name Mai, and I used to be obsessed with space so cosmic+mai=mai and for some reason i made it cosaimai so basically cosmic mai mai

59: What three words describe you the most?

quiet, jaded, eccentric 

60: Do you believe in evolution?

yeah, i guess so

61: What makes you unfollow a blog?

if the content is really my thing or the person running it is transphobic/homophobic/etc. 

64: Favorite animal(s):

BATS ♥♥♥

66: Favorite emoticon:

c:

67: Favorite meme:

i can’t choose just one, i mean, pretty much any meme @lauren-pc sends me is pretty high quality

68: What is your MBTI personality type?

INTP

69: What is your star sign?

Aries

70: Can your dog roll over on command, if you have a dog?

I have two dogs and no

71: What outfit out of all your clothes do you like to wear the most?

uhhh probably my new killstar bittersweet babydoll dress

72: Post a selfie or two?

i posted two yesterday sooooo….

73: Do you have platform shoes?

i do !!

74: What is one random but interesting fact about yourself?

i can cross both my eyes, as well as cross just one at a time

75: Can you do a front flip?

nope, i wish

76: Do you like birds?

ehh, they’re alright 

77: Do you like to swim?

not really

78: Is swimming or ice skating more fun to you?

i do not like either, but i guess swimming

79: Something you wish didn’t exist:

Donald Trump

80: Some thing you wish did exist:

Can I say Starfleet?? bc i’m gonna say Starfleet

81: Piercings you have?

none :’(

82: Something you really enjoy doing:

sleeping

83: Favorite person to talk to:

@lauren-pc

84: What was your first impression of Tumblr?

that it was extremely boring, and here i am almost 5 years later

85: How many followers do you have?

364

86: Can you run a mile within ten minutes?

hell no

87: Do your socks always match?

yes, i actually specifically wear all black socks for this reason

88: Can you touch your toes and keep your legs straight completely?

ye

89: What are your birthstones?

diamond is the only one i know

90: If you were an animal, which one would you be?

a bat :)

91: If a flower could aesthetically represent you, what kind would it be?

hmmm…. this is difficult but probably like Cranesbill Geranium or smth

92: A store you hate?

Ross

93: How many cups of coffee can you drink in one day?

none, coffee makes me sick :/

94: Would you rather be able to fly or read minds?

read minds

95: Do you like to wear camo?

no

96: Winter or summer?

winter i guess

97: How long can you hold your breath for?

I have no clue, but probably less than 30 secs

98: Least favorite person?

well out of the people i know personally, probably my friends boyfriend

99: Someone you look up to:

oh gosh, i have no clue

100: A store you love?

if online stores count, definitely Killstar

101: Favorite type of shoes

tbh flipflops bc I’m lazy

102: Where do you live?

Texas

103: Are you a vegetarian or vegan? If so, why?

no, i wish i had the will to be a vegetarian 

104: What is your favorite mineral or gem?

aura quartz 

105: Do you drink milk?

Yes, milk is great tho my mild lactose intolerance disagrees with this fact

106: Do you like bugs?

no

107: Do you like spiders?

especially no

108: Something you get paranoid about?

usually bugs crawling on me while i sleep, or someone breaking into my house while i sleep

109: Can you draw:

i can, debatable whether it’s good or not tho

110: Nosiest question you have ever been asked?

no one tends to ask me very nosy questions

111: A question you hate being asked?

i’m open to pretty much any questions, but i guess i hate boring ones, none in specific come to mind

112: Ever been bitten by a spider?

I might have been, I didn’t know whether it was a spider bite for sure or not

113: Do you like the sound of waves at the beach?

yes

114: Do you prefer cloudy or sunny days?

cloudy

115: Someone you’d like to kiss or cuddle right now:

no one actually, I’m in a very touch averse mood

116: Favorite cloud type:

cirroctratus 

117: What color do you wish the sky was?

dusty pink or a darker shade of blue

118: Do you have freckles?

nah

119: Favorite thing about a person:

i don’t quite get what exactly this is asking but i guess appearance-wise, hands

120: Fruits or vegetables?

fruits

121: Something you want to do right now:

go to a lake or beach

122: Is the ocean or sky prettier?

ocean

123: Sweet or sour foods?

sweet

124: Bright or dim lights?

dim

125: Do you believe in a certain magical creature?

not really, unless you count aliens 

126: Something you hate about Tumblr:

all the drama

127: Something you love about Tumblr:

it’s easy to find content i enjoy

128: What do you think about the least?

i guess politics ?? i have no clue

129: What would you want written on your tombstone?

“NOW AS DEAD OUTSIDE AS SHE WAS INSIDE”

130: Who would you like to punch in the face right now?

No one comes to mind, except perhaps Donald Trump

131: What is something you love but also hate about yourself?

my weirdness, it’s interesting but usually deters people

132: Do you smile with your teeth showing for pictures?

no, i hate my teeth

133: Computer or TV?

TV I suppose

134: Do you like roller coasters?

nope

135: Do you get motion sickness or seasickness?

not usually

136: Are your ears lobed or attached?

attached

137: Do you believe in karma?

no 

138: On a scale of 1-10, how attractive would you say you are?

4/10

139: What nicknames do you have/have had?

Ry, Cosai-chan, Cosai, Mai, Rave (idk how many of those count but there ya go)

140: Did you have any pretend or imaginary friends?

no

141: Have you ever seen a therapist/shrink?

nope

142: Would you say you are a good or bad influence to others?

uhhh…. i’ve been called a bad influence so i guess i am

143: Do you prefer giving or receiving gifts/help?

receiving 

144: What makes you angry

people who don’t listen/don’t think i know what i’m talking about

145: How many languages do you speak fluently?

just english, though i could probably manage a conversation with my poor knowledge of french

146: Do you prefer boys, girls, and/or non-binaries?

girls & nb people

147: Are you androgynous?

i wish

148: Favorite physical thing about yourself:

eyes 

149: Favorite thing about your personality:

resilience 

151: If you could go back into time and live in one era, which would you choose?

The 80s for sure

152: Do you like BuzzFeed?

kinda

154: Do you like to kiss others’ foreheads or hands for platonic reasons?

no

155: Do you like to play with others’ hair?

sometimes

156: What embarrasses you?

almost everything i do when I’m around people bc for some reason i can’t help but think i mess up everything i do

157: Something that makes you nervous/anxious:

being around people

159: How many people are you following?

709

160: How many posts do you have on your blog(s)?

11, 604 on this one; 288 on my gore blog; 848 on my bpd blog

161: How many drafts do you have on your blog(s)?

29; 1; 0

162: How many likes do you have on your blog(s)?

7, 244

163: Last time you cried and why:

i don’t remember

164: Do you have long or short hair?

it’s kinda in between, i guess you could say long

165: Longest your hair has ever been:

a few inches above my waist

166: Why do you like, dislike, or have neutral feelings about religon?

i dislike it because it’s boring and kinda pointless for the most part, but to each their own

167: Do you really care how the universe and world was created?

occasionally 

168: Do you like to wear makeup?

not really

169: Can you stand on your hands or head for more than thirty seconds?

nope

170: Did you answer the questions you were asked truthfully?

yes

[hannahjoy12103-blog]

So my friend @elianadiana1106 is known to say some weird things. Here are 200 of them:

1. Snow be gonner 2. Cars are weird. Its like a room full of couches that moves. 3. Ok. But what are mailboxes. Its like. A mailbox is a box that humans that dont know you will send you stuff. And its socially unacceptable to open someone elses box but why?WHY WHY IS THAT? WHY IS IT UNACCEPTABLE TO OPEN SOMEONE ELSES BOX? 4. Names. Are a random selection of words. Like hannah. Ellie. Alicia. Why alicia. Why. 5. When i was little i was scared of fences. 6. One time isa was chasing me with a toad i named him fred and she made me hold him and if i didnt shed make him pee on me. 7. Lockers are tiny closets 8. Why arent electronic library cards a thing yet 9. Sometimes i wonder what life would be like without cupcakes and i cry 10. Scary guys scare me 11. You know what should be illegal? Pinapple on pizza. 12. What are houses. Theyre like caves but not. 13. Bears are scary. Theyre like giant dogs with teeth and claws. 14. It was a car except it wasnt a car. 15. Not that i know what a crying cat sounds like 16. *puts glasses in mouth* *bites down* ow 17. Whats a brain tho. Its like a box but its not a box. Its an oval. And it has all of your memories and your conscience in it and if you hit it too hard you do. 18. What is the purpose of eyebrows. I dont see an actual use for them except making sure they are on fleek. 19. I was in my living room and then my brother came in and punched me. 20. Why do people have hair. Does it protect them from being cold or something 21. What if there are aliens on earth but they look just like look just like humans so we cant differentiate 22. Why do colors clash. Why do some colors look good together and others dont. What if my red is your blue. 23. What happens if someone eats a phone 24. *sings veggie tales song* that reminds me of swedish men 25. Is that a trampoline?? Oh wait no thats my reflection nevermind 26. Glasses are like hey whats up i cant see anything so let me just put up this piece of glass in front of my eye so i can see. And tadaah the glasses were born 27. *looks out the window* Oh hey such niceness 28. *hits her head on the window* im a mess *hits her head on bus seat* owwwwww 29. Someone is calling my name *looks up* is it you god?? 30. Look its my favorite emoji because it reminds me of a gorilla (shes talking about this one>😤) 31. Bushes are like baby trees except they dont grow up 32. Speaking of scarring, The lion king made me cry 33. Why do people wear bright colored bookbags 34. Windows are like eyes into the home 35. Im twelve. Oh wait i lied no im thirteen. 36. I know how to Karate 37. Look im wearing fuzzy. Theyre the best of all pants. No other pants can compare 38. *is talking to Isa through a door* Well if yuh wanna talk to me, just pick the lock. Cuz apparently, you can do that 39. Mom wants me and mom is above you 40. I like busses. Theyre like catterpillars. Theyre long and they roll along 41. What if my chin had eyes 42. What id your eyes were your nostrils and your nostrils were your eyes 43. Im short. Kinda like a pudgy cupcake 44. Pigs are like cows except they give out milk. 45. Shut up and pretend im smart 46. Shut up and let me talk 47. *discusses the possibilities of rainbow snow* rain snow. Its like rainbow but its. Its smart appreciate it. 48. Help i need life alert 49. I rip out my hair for fun sometimes 50. Im pretty sure shes austrian. I dont know why. Just. Austrian. 51. Is this cold. *touches it* Oh yes very cold. 52. I know everything 53. Have you ever been a murder gorilla before? 54. Blue raspberry isnt even a thing. What are they feeding us?! 55. One time i ate a cat. But i didnt like it very much 56. I need to think of something funny to say. Becuase i like to make things funny. 57. So garbage cans are like portable dumpsters 58. What if theres a dimension where instead of there being people and it snowing, theres snow people and it rains flesh 59. Dying wasnt on my bucket list 60. so YOURE the one who ate MY pudding cup 61. Why are they called mason jars. Did mason design them? WHOS MASON? They should be called ellie jars. We all know that ellie is way better than mason 62. Where was the lightbulb invented 63. BEFORE you say anything. Do you remember Pinky Dinky Doo 64. Its like a freakin blueberry with a face 65. Dont bite your friends *sings* “Dont. Dont. Dont bite your friends” 66. I should be doing homework but instead im watching Yo Gabbah Gabbah 67. *sings the backyardigans theme song* 68. *sings the veggie tales theme song* 69. Do you remember junior the asparagus *starts singing moana* 70. So if i owned a pinetree, could i call it minetree 71. Red pandas are better than dolphins 72. *lydia starts talking* IS THAT YOU GOD 73. What if the firemen start the fires to keep them employed 74. Tic tac toe, pick one. One of them have to die. 75. Does derp and snerp rhyme 76. *touches nose to my phone* nose phone 77. Singing. Its just like stairs. I get out of breath. 78. One time i had a dream that i had to slay a dragon. It killed me. 79. One time i was walking my grandmas dog and a cat attacked me. 80. Are hearing aids glasses for the ears 81. Whats the difference between right twix and left twix 82. HEY LOOK THERES A DUCKY 83. Morgan is a russian spy? 84. What if you could take your eye out and see into someones soul? 85. Can fish drown? Like can they drown on air? 86. I had a dream where Logan got stabbed last night? 87. FIRE HYDRANT! 88. lions? I dont have any lions 89. Cinderella can go dig a hole and die in it 90. Thats sooooo ugly. Cinderella can wear it 91. I dont even like orange soda but i drink it because its sugar and i LOVEEEEEEE sugar 92. Oh no sweety those shoes do not go with that dress, unless youre Cinderella 93. I have a burning hatred for Cinderella 94. WHAT THE HECK IS– oh its me 95. Its time to listen to MY songs. Buckle up buddy. 96. If i was an animal i would be an irrawaddy dolphin. I am. An iraqaddy dolphin 97. Im DONE with this long hair. Im cutting it off. 98. Have you heard me sing? Thats not the sound of potential. Thats the sound of death 99. If you had a girl child what would you name her (i say i dont know). Youre right. Lily is a great name 100. HANDSTAND. No wait i cant do it i will break my neck 101. *makes the verbal sound for: “GAHSBXICIWOEBDKDIQ” * 102. Did someone say bork 103. What if four wasnt a number 104. *sings*: NOW YOU KNOWWWW WITH ELLIE YOUR DAILY INFORMATIONAL THING. YEAH. 105. Some people. Theyre like walls. 106. I didnt know its body fell off. Somebody shouldve given me a heads up. 107. *reads: I like trees* he better stay away from minetre 108. It feels like a worm entering my ear 109. I give up 110. You know how carter has 753 pens in his sock? That really SOCKS for him. Ha. Ha. Ha. 111. MAKE ME. oh wait you cant cuz youre on the other side of a locked door 112. SENTIENT TACOS ARE EVERYWHERE AND THEY WATCH YOU. 113. SENTIENT WALLS. I HAVE FOUR OF THEM. 114. I had a dream that i killed a man 115. Its just a wallet. His name is walley. NO ITS A SENTIENT WALLET. that makes cents HA HA ha. Ha. That was good 116. I look like a naked mole rat 117. How did different kinds of birds come to be different 118. Hes a manager. Hes really good at managing things. And apparently hes a certified scuba diver 119. I kill at wii baseball ‘kay 120. The Miis creep me out like hey im the mini you living in the screen 121. Im single and i know it 122. The next dude who comes near me i will punch him in yhe throat. I will conventiently make sure its seamus 123. NO. THERES BUBBLE WRAP BUT ITS TAPED TO THE INSIDE SO I CANT POP IT EFFICIENTLY 124. Its like waves… but its not but it is 125. *phone buzzes* SHUT UP 126. A stylis. Its like a pencil for you phone 127. SO MANY SCREEN PROTECTORS 128. Go buy some new jeans. You dont need SCISSORS SARAH. 129. My friends say im weird. But i dont really think im weird you know. 130. Hes so tall. Hes like a freakin giraffe. Hows the air up there buddy? 131. Why the heck and i cutting holes in perfectly good jeans. I dont even like jeans. 132. I have 67 cats at home 133. What did cave people paint with? Their blood? 134. dude it’s the perfect weather to play tornado in 135. MIKE WAZOWSKI 136. Grass. Its like tini miniature trees. Im not wrong. Broccoli is a mini forrest 137. Seamus has an empty cardboard box in his room and i stole it and made it into a spaceship 138. That girl looks like me. She just want “agh” and just. Same. 139. The blankies name is dora. Dont ask why. Not my blankie tho. My blankies name is blue. I slipped on dora when i had my laptop in my lap. 140. Cinderella deserves nothing. 141. Morgan is a russian spy 142. LOOK ITS AN OLD GUY. i bet he has three dead bodies in his basement 143. A flute. You can shove it down their neck. And when their wheezing for breath beautiful melodies come out 144. The ninjas house is a bit further down. 145. Its like somewhere over the rainbow 146. I was just singing the entire soundtrack because why not. 147. Why do cars come in different colors? But the same inside colors? 148. Is it spelled nartz or narts 149. These people on my street painted their house mustard yellow and I don’t like it 150. How dis clowning start. Like hey lets paint our faces paint and put on red noses and see if children cry. I cried. I cried very hard. 151. Reich rhymes with branch 152. Cinderella deserves nothig but death 153. What if george washington IS THE WALLS? 154. The bus driver starts the bus before i sat down and i almost fell on my face. Lets face it that wasnt very nice of him. HA ha ha… 155. Jail backwards is laij 156. Do i confuse you more than math because nothing confuses me more than math 157. *rants about lotion* *cries* 158. The pogo is a no-go 159. I forget that i tell people things and im suprised when they already know, like how. Did you read my mind? 160. OH I HAD THIS DREAM. It was an animal apocalypse and they broke my glasses and I woke up mad and confused as to why I couldn’t see. 161. I think that in the alphabetical world, that c and s are rivals 162. Is a sticker still a sticker if it loses its stick 163. Stickers can go a die in a hole with Cinderella 164. Do you think the ocean is just salty because the beach never waves back? 165. Hey look its Mr. Testa. Dont testa me. HA. ha..haha 166. I want to go to sweden to see if they have swedish fish factories 167. Doesnt Switzerland make pretzels? Or is that Germany? 168. What if the sky is purple… 169. Me: *sends ellie a photo of an owl saying hello friend* ellie: WHOO ME?! haha get it… I’m making owl puns? What a hoot! 170. Ha ha… man i made this *send photo of hawk* Hawkward… 171. i see you are not *send photo of emu* EMUSED. 172. I get it, my puns are…fowl. Fowl. Did that send twice? Oh whale, i did it on porpoise. 173. What did the ocean say to the beach? Nothing it just waved. Did you sea what i did there? Im shore you did. 174. I almost ran into my wood bed. That woodn’t be fun now wood it 175. Im eating a bagel. Bagels? More like Bae Goals 176. Shea broke and 'unbreakable bowl’. Its unbowlievable 177. I just made up an 'under the sea’ parody about chocolate milk. Help me. 178. What did the grape say when he got stepped on? Nothing. He just let out a little wine 179. I think there is a monster under my bed 180. *draws a cherry* I thought it was a berry good drawing 181. I think of eyebrows as two countries. Unibrows unite them. 182. Im hanging out with sally right now (her imaginary friend who is homicidal) 183. I WILL WALK THERE WITH DETERMINATION AND GET TO MY DESTINATION TO FINISH YOUR EXTERMINATION. I WILL GO TO MURDER NATION 184. Ya know when spies do a little camp thing to catch the bad dude 185. Newspaper is so confusing. Its like a thousand tiny paper books. Im trying to read it but is not helping me 186. *talking about the origin of pretzels*but whose the mother country that was like “hey lets make some dough wrap like this then sprinkle some salt then how bout some mustard”. Like who did that. it couldn’t been a collaboration of countries. did they hold a world meeting to think of new foods 187. Where the heck did cake come from. Apparently the Greeks invented cake, but according to food historians the ancient Egyptians invented cake 188. Hey my family just decided that our new safe word is 'Oklahoma’ 189. I am certain that food historian is a real job 190. So apparently not all Catholic Churches have their sermons in Spanish 191. But apparently the actual Purple Heart is in Orlando 192. Apparently my friend Amanda almost pet a manatee today 193. THE PIZZA PLACE STOLE OUR PIZZA. I THINK. WE ORDERED PIZZA MUCH TIME AGO AND IT ISNT HERE YET 194. I was watching a show called Room on the Broom but it wasn’t very good 195. AND ARE STORES CALLED STORES BC YOU STORE FOOD THERE? OR IS IT CALLED A STORE BC YOU GET FOOD FROM THERE TO TAKE HOME AND STORE YOURSELF?? 196. aRGG I JUST GOT TOOTHPASTE IN MY EYE 197. I hate snow white almost as much as i hate cinderella 198. I should get a star on the hollywood floor 199. There’s a ladder on your roof, you should get that checked out 200. I have ice cream. aaaand I walked into a wall