#occasions TO other employees DURING work hours. whatever i fucking hate her ass

[penisliker-moved]

everybody cheer abd fucking clap that i didnt scream at my boss judt now

[chwetuan]

Purple Velvet - Mark Tuan x Reader (m)

Summary: Mark’s having a hard time staying at your side with you in that purple dress (4.1k).

Rating: M

Warnings: swearing, use of alcohol, implied smut, mention of a parental death (not elaborated on).

Sidenote - this is loosely inspired by the “The House Party” (part of the “LOOK” Drabble Series) by @inyournightmares97 (she’s awesome, I love her) 

Sidenote 2.0 - thank you so much to @mintyjin for being an amazing person and sharing her thoughts with me on this fic (she’s awesome x2) | now let’s move onto this mess of a fic shall we

Mark was definitely not happy that you decided to wear that dress. Although, there was nothing that he could really do or say about it. It was beautiful; a purple velvet that shimmered whenever light hit it. So, he watched as you greeted everyone that approached you, your head bowing with that smile of yours on display.

It was a work gathering, in celebration of several head partners securing possibly the biggest contract of the year; an accomplishment that would finally put the firm at the top of the industry. The owners of the company rented out one of the newest clubs in town and filled the open space with employees and extended guests, ranging upwards of 500 people. The place was crowded. You had just recently become the new Manager of the IT department, which was undoubtedly a big accomplishment for someone as young and arguably inexperienced as you. Many said that there was something about you, something they “couldn’t put their finger on”. Little did they know that your only quirk was that you simply liked computers. They were complicated, but once you learned them, they made sense. In a way, it mirrored your relationship with Mark.

Mark, being one of your closest friends, emphasis on close, had accepted to be your +1 before you even asked him. He just assumed that he’d be the person you’d take. He knew some of your fellow co-workers through college, so attending the event wouldn’t have put him in an overbearingly uncomfortable situation. Anyways, he was social. People liked him. Yet, tonight, his face was positively set in a scowl with his jaw clenched and no one even tried to speak to him. But several people came and spoke to you. And boy, was he having a hard time. He watched helplessly as your delicate hand came up and flipped your dark hair over your shoulder. With his bottom lip now tugged between his teeth, he averted his eyes and scanned the room because god knows he needed something else to look at. Without much luck, he snatched a glass of champagne from the tray of a clumsy waitress that was passing by, choosing to turn to alcohol if he couldn’t find something else to keep his attention. He sipped it, scrunching his nose at the taste before placing the unfinished drink on a nearby table. Cheap, he thought. Or perhaps it was too expensive. He couldn’t tell; champagne wasn’t really his drink of choice anyway, and if he wanted to make it through this event, he would need something way stronger. As expected, his eyes wandered back to you. They always managed to do that. They traveled down your back, admiring the colorful tattoos that adorned the skin he knew was soft. That damned dress, he thought. All he wanted, quite frankly, was the dress off or for you to at least cover your chest; make a damn choice, he reasoned with himself. But neither of those things would be happening, not then and most definitely not later on. So, he settled for stepping closer to you and running his hand down the trail of writing that was exposed to him. And everyone else, he thought begrudgingly. The sudden contact made you jump, causing you to forget what you were going to say to the older woman in front of you. You smiled apologetically at her and excused yourself, promising to find her later on and continue your conversation. She smiled in response before taking a sip out of her glass and swimming into the sea of people. You turned to Mark and looked up at him with questioning eyes as you felt the palm of his hand close around your waist and pull you closer to him. You tensed when he brought his lips down to your ear and spoke, surprisingly, curtly. It wasn’t the tone you were expecting. “I’m going to find Jinyoung. If you need me, text me.” “Mark-“ And with that, the warmth of his hand along with his presence disappeared. The air around you was replaced with a sudden coolness that caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. That asshole didn’t even wait for a response. But that’s how things seemed to settle between you and him; hot and cold. One minute, he’d have you pressed against his chest, engulfing you in one of the most comforting embraces a person could give. The next minute, he wouldn’t even spare you with a glance. Whenever he touched you, you could feel the air around you shift. Each touch was purposeful- Mark didn’t just hold your hand or kiss your temple without reason. He held your hand because he didn’t want to lose sight of you in the crowd; he kissed your temple because he noticed how your smile faltered at the sidelined remark that came from a friend. He was good at noticing those things. Tonight, however, he was being an asshole. You didn’t know why, either. It was times like these that the reality of your relationship dawned on you. Mark could do whatever the hell he wanted. You could, also. You weren’t dating. You weren’t together. It started on a dark, mostly drunken night, when all that was audible was the sound of thunder and heavy rain. Why you and Mark had decided to get piss drunk during the middle of one of the worst storms the town would face, eluded you both. “The world is about to fucking end,” you concluded, feeling rather confident with your deduction. And in your state of intoxication, you fell clumsily into each other’s arms. “The world is not going to end without me doing this,” he said before his lips met yours. That messy kiss was the first domino to fall. The line that was crossed. Afterward, you would find yourselves in one of your apartments on several different occasions, exchanging those same kisses and sometimes more. And that’s where you guys were now. In a confusing limbo of friendship where you both had more than friendly feelings for each other. It left you to wonder why you didn’t just date, or stop screwing each other, physically and emotionally. He often thought of it too. You both knew stopping was out of the picture. There had been too many nights where you found yourself underneath him, begging him to do something- anything, to get rid of the knot he’d slowly tied in your stomach. There had been an equal number of other nights where you didn’t have to ask. But on these nights, he kissed your forehead like you were made of porcelain. There had been nights that you cried into his arms; nights that you found you could only sleep if he was next to you. There were days that went by where he found himself miserable without hearing your voice or seeing you. And although you never claimed each other with a title, you both knew the truth. There was no one else on this hell-forsaken earth that could understand you like Mark Tuan could. No one that could make you feel like he could. No one that could make you as frustrated or as happy. Right now, you were frustrated. The asshole. ~~~~~ Mark hadn’t found Jinyoung. Jinyoung had found Mark, after Mark had downed two glasses of tequila at the bar and was ordering his third. He sat, one elbow on the bar counter, his free hand resting lazily on his thigh. Jinyoung hated tequila. He thought it was a cheap man’s drink. But more importantly, he hated what it meant when Mark Tuan drank tequila: the man was ready to stir up some trouble. And Mark Tuan looked a mess. “Yah, hyung- what’s the matter?” Jinyoung asked as he seated himself on the stool next to him. “That fucking dress,” Mark mumbled, grimacing at the burn his throat felt when he sipped his fresh drink. Jinyoung couldn’t hear him. The music was too loud and the dj was playing the same stupid pop song he had played twice already. “What?” He asked leaning closer towards him, “Nothing.” Mark spoke louder this time, sitting up and turning slightly to face him. “Who are you here with? You didn’t drive, right?” Jinyoung asked, the concern dripping off of his words. His eyes scanned Mark’s face, taking in his flushed features. Mark would’ve preferred if he said “Hey, Mark, you drunken idiot. You took a cab, right? You have that look in your eye, you know, the one that screams ���I’m drunk off my ass and need a babysitter.” I’m here to babysit you”. “I’m supposed to be here with Y/N-“He started, pausing to sip his drink,“But she’s probably out there ass kissing her way to another promotion.” The corners of Jinyoung’s mouth turned downward. So, this was the trouble Mark wanted to start, he thought to himself. “You know you don’t mean that, hyung.” It was true. He didn’t mean it. Jinyoung always knew what the truth was. “We took a cab. This is my last drink.” He shrugged before taking another sip. Jinyoung nodded and motioned towards the second floor balcony of the club. “I’ll be up there- I think Jaebum might still be there too. If you get tired, tell the host you’re looking for table 6. Bambam disappeared about an hour ago but I’m sure he’s either throwing up or hooking up.” Mark nodded, not really paying attention to what the man in front of him was saying. He thought the music was too loud and he felt dizzy. He also thought the tie Jinyoung had on was stupid, which is why- he concluded,- that he couldn’t focus on what he was actually saying. He reasoned that whatever Jinyoung was saying was stupid anyway, because who could wear such a god-awful tie. Willingly? ~~~~~ You caught a glimpse of Mark about an hour later, as it got closer to 11pm. When you came face to face, you noticed 2 things. The first being his slightly glassy eyes, and the second being the red color that danced across his cheeks. Then you noticed one more thing. The glass of tequila in his left hand. “Are you drunk?” You huffed out in annoyance and stared at him with expectant eyes. “Are you drunk?” He replied; shifting on his feet. You could tell he was unsteady. “I had one glass of champagne.” “I had one glass of champagne.” He repeated in a sarcastically saccharine voice. It was true, he did have one glass of champagne. Kind of. “Mark,” you started, reaching your hand out to take the liquid courage away from him. “Give me that. You’re going to fall and spill it all over yourself.” Mark grabbed your hand with his own free one before raising the hand that held the drink far above your reach. “No Y/N, this is my last drink. And if I have to stick around here and deal with stupid ties and stupid music and stupid people, and then you,” he paused to analyze your face, “Then I’m going to need it.” “Stupid ties? What the hell are you talking about?” You asked, with annoyance and a hint of confusion teasing across your tone. You figured it was just the alcohol talking. Drunk Mark was positively your least favorite Mark, right next to the Mark who thought it was okay to stand up immediately when a flight landed. He brought the drink down slowly, keeping his eyes on you as he downed what remained before slamming the glass down on the table in front of him. You were surprised it didn’t shatter. His hold on your hand had shifted, and now his fingers and palm encased your wrist. His grip wasn’t tight, but it was uncomfortable. He pulled you once, not hard enough to make you stumble- and then again. He was trying to get you closer to him, but you weren’t budging. “Y/N”, he whined, tugging incessantly at your wrist. It was then you decided that you needed to get out of there before he did something stupid. Or before you said something stupid to him. After one particularly hard tug, you found yourself bracing your free hand against his chest - a method of not crashing into him- as his hands found their way around your waist. You were so close to him; you could see his navy hair beginning to cling to his forehead. “I don’t like when you look at me like that.” He huffed out, throwing his head back. “Like I did something bad.” You just stared. He sounded like a child. “We’re leaving.” Mark felt reprimanded. ~~~~~ Getting Mark out the doors of the crowded club was a task you could manage. He was relatively small, although he towered over you, even with heels. You had been through much worse. However, getting him to keep his hands off of you in the cab was something you couldn’t manage. It wasn’t sexual; the way his arm was around your waist with his head resting on your shoulder. You and Mark had hooked up enough times that you knew what he was like when he needed you, or wanted you, rather. Mark was very conscious of the fact that you were mad at him, and he wasn’t even thinking about getting you in his bed, even if that damn dress wastempting. Anger was engraved on your face. He could see it in the slight pout of your lips - that he so badly wanted to kiss- and in the way you avoided looking at him. He hated that. “Y/N, you know I lo-“ he started; only to be cut off by a sigh escaping your mouth. “I don’t want I hear it.” He stayed quiet. Mark had a dirty habit of telling you he loved you when he was intoxicated. It was something he never said sober. Although, there had been one time when you heard him say it, to you specifically. It was a few weeks after your mother had passed away. You weren’t in a good place. You had threw your phone against the wall of your apartment, frustrated with the world. You were sick of the messages. The condolences from people who didn’t care. Tears ran down your face until you felt numb. Somehow, you managed to get into your car and drive to Mark’s apartment complex. It was late- you knew it then too- probably around 1 or 2am. You didn’t even know where you were until you found your feet on his “Welcome” mat. When he opened the door and saw you, he felt his heart break- he swore to it. He had never felt something like that before. You looked at him with tear stained cheeks and wet lashes. You started to cry again. He looked like comfort. He looked like peace. Your hands covered your face and you somehow choked out a strained “I’m sorry”. You didn’t know when he had brought you inside or locked the door, but you felt his hands around you, one on the back of your neck, the other on the back of your head. “No, Y/N. No, don’t you ever apologize.” His voice was stern but you knew the malice was superficial. His hands tilted your head so you were looking up at him. Once again, he had that feeling in his chest. A cross between a shatter and a stab. He hated it. “Baby, come here,” he whispered before pulling you into his arms. Next, you were on his bed, crying into his chest as he held you. You could feel his even breathing on the top of your head. His room was dimly lit, the glow of the green fairy lights along with the soft light reflecting off of the tv in front of you. You’d remembered those green lights. It was Christmas, the year before, and you’d harassed Mark into letting you put them up. He’d complained that they were stupid, as he thought most things were. But he let you do it anyway, and once he saw the way your eyes lit up, he was mad at himself for not saying yes sooner. Your sobs eventually died down, and your breathing evened as Mark’s hand rubbed your back soothingly. He spoke, so quietly that he probably couldn’t even hear himself over the buzz of the cartoons playing in the background, “God, I love you so much.” He thought you were sleeping. ~~~~~ With much effort, you had managed to slip out of your dress and into a pair of shorts and a large t-shirt, huffing when you realized that it was Mark’s. You stared at the exposed red brick of the wall, contemplating your next move.

His apartment was much larger than yours- a balcony and all. It suited him. It constantly smelled like a mixture of vanilla and his cologne; there was artwork and pictures everywhere. The couches were made of black leather and decorated with fluffy blankets and pillows, way too many for you to count. And then there was your stuff. You had - “annoyingly”, as he always said - left your hair ties on the coffee table and kitchen counter, along with earrings and other “unnecessary shit”, Mark called it. In his shower, your fruity shampoo was on the rack, right next to his body wash. You had a makeup bag next to the bathroom sink that he swore he was going to get rid of if you didn’t take it home. He never threw it away, and you never took it. One of your pink bras hung on the hook of his bedroom door, and there was a grey cardigan you’d been looking for since last October hanging in his closet. Mark was capable of changing into a hoodie and a pair of black sweatpants before flopping down on the couch. He was sobering up, you thought. More like hoped. At least you didn’t have to dress him. You already felt like you were babysitting. His arm was thrown over his face as you padded out of his bedroom with a freshly washed face. You walked over to him, nudging his knee with your own. “C’mon, let’s go to sleep. You need to-“ “You’re mad at me.” He cut you off, as you had done to him in the car. You huffed. He noticed that you kept doing that tonight, but he was wise enough to not mention it. “Mark, you need to-“ “Why are you mad at me?” Those words were the first indication that no, he was not sobering up. The second was him pulling you into his lap and clinging onto you as if you were going to run away. “We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” You spoke softly. He just stared at you as if you were a code he needed to break. Contemplative. You tried to stand but his hands were holding you in place. This time, he wasn’t budging. “Mark,” you whined just as he had done when you were back at the club. “I’m tired, I want to sleep.” It was his turn to huff. He gently guided you off of him- surprising, considering his state- and in turn you guided him to his bedroom. Lights off, in bed. His hands still not leaving you. ~~~~~ When you awoke, you were surprised not to find your bodies tangled together. You braced yourself on your elbows before reaching for your phone and checking the time; 10:09am. Mark peeked out of the bathroom, toothbrush in mouth, when he heard you stirring. Your eyes met his, and for a brief moment, you were almost angry that he didn’t have a hangover. He waved at you before returning to the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth. When he was finished, you got up and did the same. You sat next to him on the bed, taking his face in your hands and scanning it. You checked his eyes and felt his forehead. “Well, you don’t look like you have a hangover.” You stated, dropping your hands and running them through your own tousled hair. He laughed and your heart fluttered. It always did that when you were around him. “I don’t,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing. “I woke up before you, after all.” You hummed and a few moments of silence passed between you. Mark eyed you, trying to think of the best way to say what he wanted. He knew he had to apologize. He was too slow, as you began talking. “Last night-“ “I’m sorry,” He cut you off again, intent on saying what he needed. He had been up for half an hour with words running through his mind. “I remember most of it and I know I was very rude and probably embarrassed you. I’m sorry for not staying with you and being a proper date. I’m sorry you had to leave early and babysit me- though I won’t say I’m not happy you did. I’m sorry.” He was rambling, but every word was sincere. “It’s okay, Mark.” You said softly as you scooted closer to him, placing your hand over his. He eyed your small hand over his own before examining your face. Squinting slightly. He always did that before he finally solved a problem or figured something out. “What?” You asked; expecting him to completely change topics and say something profound borderline ridiculous. “Last night,” he started, the first two words already throwing you off. “I said that if I had to continue to deal with you, I would need a drink. I made it sound bad because I included you with all the stupid shit that was there already. Y/N, never would I ever not want to deal with you. I’ll deal with you every single day until I run out of days if the universe allows it.” You were already highly confused. And your cheeks were turning pink without permission, although you had to think back to when he exactly said that; pinpointing exactly what he was talking about. You never paid attention to his words then, too focused on trying to get him out of there. “Mark, why are you-“ “Shh. My turn.” He shushed you, his lips curving upwards. Something only you would notice. “You see, I don’t have to deal with you. I have to deal with myself when I’m around you. I feel like I have to control myself when I’m around you. I have to stop myself from approaching guys who stare at you too long or flirt with you. I have to stop myself from staring at your legs or grabbing your thighs, or hell-“ he breathed out- “even kissing you. Which happens way more often than I’d like to admit, by the way.” You could feel the heat crawl up your neck to the tips of your ears as he continued talking, the tint of your face darkening. Your heart was fluttering non-stop. “I feel like I need to remind myself to breath when I’m with you. And I’m around you all the time, so I’m constantly out of breath, Y/N. And I know why I feel like this.” “Mark- you really need-“ You tried again, though you had no idea what you’d actually say if he stopped talking. He rolled his eyes before pulling you into his lap and biting your ear playfully. “God, you’re so cute. Anyways, I’m trying to confess my love to you and you keep distracting me.” He could feel your breath hitch. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears. “It’s not a confession. You must know by now. If you didn’t think so, I don’t know what to say. I am an asshole, but I am an asshole who is madly in love with you. And on the off chance that I’ve possibly misread everything, you are madly in love with me too. I’m sick of dancing around this with you. I need you, Y/N. I don’t care if you don’t need me, but I need you to let me love you- to let me be in love with you- properly, openly. Can you do that?” A wave of silence flooded the room as you tightened your grip on him. “I can do that.” He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He kissed behind your ear and nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “God, I love you so much.” You were grinning before you spoke; smile mirroring the day in December when he finally let you put the lights up. “I love you too.” Another moment of silence. It was the same comfortable silence that you were accustomed to. But this time, something felt different. Something felt free. “By the way, never wear that dress again.” He said, letting out a shaky laugh. “I thought it looked nice.” You frowned; “It did-“ he hugged you tighter and paused; “Too nice, baby. Too nice.” ~~~~~

The end <3 // This is my first fic everyone! -Z

[vampiresmiled]

✩ watergate

i want to preface this by saying that i hate watergate and the fact that this meme is four-hundred pages long only furthered my hatred for this abomination of a ship. and yes, i am using kennedy walsh as a mascot for this occasion. mind your own.

DISAGREEMENTS

who is more likely to raise their voice? we been through this. it’s mickey, he inherited his father’s temper. giving a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘daddy issues.’who threatens to leave but never actually does? mickey. the man is full of empty promises. who actually keeps their word and leaves? emma. mickey would never leave, he’s mickey : abandonment issues and all. who trashes the house? worst case scenario, mickey. but normal circumstances, nobody. they’re not wolfgang circa 2016, post ziba finding out about his heart issues, oil on canvas. do either of them get physical? i mean, #basementgate … ringing any bells ? it’d be a mistake on mickey’s part, otherwise no. how often do they argue/disagree? only when their collective insecurities start acting up. and if my memory serves me right, that’s like every other week. who is the first to apologise? both, simultaneously. 

SEX

who is on top? do you remember You 1x04 ? joe was on top … let’s aim for nine seconds, okay.who is on the bottom? did i not just answer that. who has the strangest desires? what is this, an episode of lucifer ? jokes, all jokes. probably emma. shy in the streets, freaky in the sheets. any kinks? does … harmonicas count ? literally retire the joke, mads – RETIRE IT.who’s dominant in bed? neither. they’re vanilla and boring and i hate them.is head ever in the equation? it’s always in the equation, we’re no dj khaled stans here.if so, who is better at performing it? mickey will toss your salad like he’s aidan gallagher’s biggest fan.ever had sex in public? public sex for them is in her car. so, yes.who moans the most? emma ‘cos she never knows when to zip it.who leaves the most marks? mickey. mark your territory, y’know. it’s critical.who screams the loudest? i said what i said.who is the more experienced of the two? big oof @ emma’s bodycount. do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? they make sweet, sweet love.rough or soft? soft as hale.how long do they usually last? 9 seconds. however adequately long is … that’s how long. they drag it out. make a day out of it. is protection used? they never wrap it before they tap it. and with is history of … you know, [ finger banging motions ] emma should’ve had chlamydia by now. but yes, they wrap it. sometimes. they don’t remember that often.does it ever get boring? nope. where is the strangest place they’d have sex? on his mother’s grave. or maybe not. i dunno, would they fuck at a preschool ? i don’t put it past them.

FAMILY

do your muses plan on having children/or have children? together they haven’t spoken about it. but separately, fuck yeah. if so, how many children do your muses want/have? i feel like emma wants two or three, mickey wants a football team.who is the favorite parent? since mickey is gonna be a stay-at-home dad, fuck you, him. who is the authoritative parent? odette. they hire her to come in every week to stare real hard at the kids until they clean the entire house unprompted. works like wonders. super nanny who ?who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? mickey. who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? mickey, mickey, mickey. emma’s all about carrots and nutritions. fuck that, we’re going to mcdonkey d.who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? mickey organizes the extra curricular activities. he’s that dad.who goes to parent teacher interviews? emma ‘cos mickey gets mistaken for flirting with the the mrs. grundy looking teach every single time. not riverdale!grundy, comics!grundy. [ chicken girls vc ] spicy … who changes the diapers? mickey avoided it for the first couple of months by sheer magic and a lot of pampering @ emma. but she caught on, and then he was on diaper duty for a full year. after that the kid doesn’t need diapers so … unless they wee the bed then we have another problem on our hands. who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? mickey, that’s how he avoided diaper changes. who spends the most time with the children? mickey ‘cos he’s ugly and unemployed. who packs their lunch boxes? emma ‘cos mickey would sneak brownies in there and all the other kids would get jealous and cry during lunch. true story, i was there. who gives their children ‘the talk’? mickey would want to but seeing as he’s who he is, emma took it upon herself to give them a more science based talk. ironic considering what his current job is but … who cleans up after the kids? mickey-boy.who worries the most? emma by a long shot. mickey has zero cares in the world. he’s the type of dad to toss the kids up 375ft into the air while emma yells frantically in the background of the video odette is filming. she’s there for chaos, not so much for telling mickey the kid’s neck can break. who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? i think emma. mickey’s gonna be super good with coming up with psuedo-swears like motherflubber and fudge. emma will slip up, i know she will.  

AFFECTION

who likes to cuddle? both.who is the little spoon? mickey, he likes to be held – it makes him feel safe.who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? fucking mickey the horn-dog. who struggles to keep their hands to themself? did you not see what i just said.   how long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? several hours. they never get uncomfy, fuck off. who gives the most kisses? listen, mickey loves giving love. whatever that touchy feely result was on the love language quiz, that was he. so, – he’ll smooch her everywhere and whenever. try and stop him, you can’t. except they’re not dating right now so i guess he’s successfully kept at bay. barely. what is their favourite non-sexual activity? banter. like genuinely. they just sit on the sofa and tear each other apart. it’s a good old time. that or soaps. mickey’s a huge fan of days of our lives.where is their favourite place to cuddle? probably couch. who is more likely to playfully grope the other? mickey. but emma’s known to grab his ass at times which is honestly childish, emma quit it. how often do they get time to themselves? seeing as they’re currently childless and also single, all the time in the world.

SLEEPING

who snores? emma, i said it.if both do, who snores the loudest? emma …do they share a bed or sleep separately? they’re not the weathers, ok.if they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? close, so very close.who talks in their sleep? mickey. he says some dumb shit, she writes it down.what do they wear to bed? dicks out. kidding. mickey sleeps shirtless, and emma sleeps in his shirt. fair deal. are either of your muses insomniacs? no.can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? only if he wanna knock her out for some quiet. but also no.do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? they’re a whole ass pretzel, k. who wakes up with bed hair? emma might have more hair but mickey’s is untamed. who wakes up first? emma. who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? mickey is a king in the kitchen, so.what is their favourite sleeping position? his face full on in the crook of her neck and like completely wrapped up in each other like my headphones after 2 minutes.who hogs the sheets? both of them, every night is a struggle.do they set an alarm each night? emma does. mickey likes to wing it.can a television be found in their bedroom? no, emma said that’s not allowed and that’s why she’s currently sexless. who has nightmares? neither … who has ridiculous dreams? mickey, hence the talking. who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? mickey probably.who makes the bed? emma, she’s so responsible.what time is bed time? like two hours after they decide it’s time to sleep. they talk alot. and … do other things we shall not mention ( discuss the current political climate ). and they fuck. any routines/rituals before bed? dental hygiene is very important to them both so they spend like 20 minutes in the bathroom. who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? emma. mickey is ready :clap: to :clap: go !

WORK

who is the busiest? mickey. being a nurse is no joke. neither is having to take up shifts at the hardware store ‘cos your dad’s a drunk.who rakes in the highest income? i dunno. they both have shite jobs in terms of salary. google it. are any of your muses unemployed? not yet. who takes the most sick days? honestly, neither. mickey’s the type to go work with a flu and emma is too much of a suck-up to risk looking like a bad employee. who is more likely to turn up late to work? mickey. who sucks up to their boss? both. love that for them.what are their jobs? er nurse and preschool teacher. if you didn’t know that by now, kill yourself.who stresses the most? emma, no doubt, no doubt.do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? LOVE. are your muses financially stable? * laughs in the spirit of president snow choking to death on his own chortles * no.

HOME

who does the washing? mickey mixed the reds and whites once, so … take a gamble.who takes out the trash? mickey whenever he leaves for work. get it? ok.who does the ironing? mickey also burnt a hole in one of her shirts.who does the cooking? MICKEY. so stay out of the kitchen if you can’t handle the heat, woman.who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? emma.who is messier? mickey. who leaves the toilet roll empty? mickey, but it’s on purpose. you see … he likes to do it just so she’ll have to yell at him to get her some. it’s just funny. every time. sometimes he forgets to put it back before he leaves. those are the times he gets a roll thrown at his face when he gets home.who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? mickey. it’s charming.who forgets to flush the toilet? ew, no one.who is the prankster around the house? they’re both equally pranky … not a word ! mickey just tends to be more unexpected in his pranks. who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? emma. mickey doesn’t have his own car.who mows the lawn? they’re apartment people, buzz off.who answers the telephone? no one, their answering machine message is just too good to go to waste.who does the vacuuming? emma.who does the groceries? mickey.who takes the longest to shower? mickey. he’s depressed.who spends the most time in the bathroom? emma.

MISCELLANEOUS

is money a problem? of course it is. they’re broke.how many cars do they own? one.do they own their home or do they rent? rent.do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? … fuck if i know. where even is sheffield.do they live in the city or in the country? downtown, asshat.do they enjoy their surroundings? sure.what’s their song? i know it’s not 1998 yet. but – closing time by semisonic is a bop i’ve mentioned for them before. what do they do when they’re away from each other? pine.where did they first meet? i wanna say her place but she’s not that stupid. probably joe’s or something. how did they first meet? when mickey answered the roommate ad. who spends the most money when out shopping? mickey. it’s all on food.who’s more likely to flash their assets? like tits ? neither.who finds it amusing when the other trips over? mickey. and emma. both. they’re ten.any mental issues? plenty to go around.who’s terrified of bugs? emma.who kills the spiders around the house? mickey carries them outside, thank you very much.their favourite place? at home. yeah, they’re like that.who pays the bills? emma pays pays them, but like … he gives her money.do they have any fears for their future? so many we cannot get into that right now.who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? mickey. but like home-cooked ‘cos he’s a poor, poor man. who uses up all of the hot water? mickey.who’s the tallest? [ softly ] don’t. who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? ickey-mickey.who wanders around in their underwear? MICKEY. who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? they both try and out-sing each other. he starts it, she ends it. what do they tease each other about? harmonicas and their deepest insecurities. who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? remember the bee shirt.do they have mutual friends? no, jack hates him and i hate jack.who crushed first? i wanna say … mickey.any alcohol or substance related problems? nope.who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? mickey, it’s in his genes.who swears the most? neither of them swear that much but i guess i’ll have to go with the ugly one.