#sorry for microwave quality you know how it is with them

[cordiallyfuturedwight]

RUN JIN!!!

[runninriot]

Damn You, Capitalism!

inspired by and written for @sidekick-hero , hope that helps getting through the day 🖤 because work sucks (i know!) - but eddie sucks harder 😏

1.231 words | cw: contains smut, nsfw, mdni

also on ao3

Steve has been drowning in work lately, it's a nightmare.

Eddie tries his best to support him, to make things as little stressful for him at home as it can possibly be.

He keeps the guitar unplugged when he's working on new music, to keep the noise at a minimum.

Always makes sure there's some meal ready for Steve to grab and microwave when and if he remembers to eat.

He reminds himself to do the dishes as soon as he's done with them because he knows how much Steve hates when the sink is full of dirty plates and forks and mugs.

Eddie even finally figured out how to use their new washing machine - he's not stupid, just lazy, and- why does that damn thing need so many buttons?

So, yeah. He's trying, really, because it breaks his heart every night when Steve comes home from work, looking one moment away from collapsing. Always tired, always moody, just- miserable.

Eddie wishes he could do more. Wishes he could take some of Steve's stress away, help him relax. Ease his mind just for a while.

And- look, he knows what would probably, most definitely help, that's not the thing. The problem is, Steve can barely even stay up long enough to kiss Eddie goodnight as soon as they're in bed. So any attempts of trying to have some one-on-one quality time with his husband aren't really up for debate right now.

Right?

Right.

He'll just have to wait for this massive project to be over and done with.

---

As Eddie crawls into bed shortly after Steve, he finds him quietly snoring, already fast asleep with his face mushed uncomfortably against his pillow.

Even in his sleep, he looks exhausted and it makes Eddie mad how much that job is demanding of Steve.

He pictures himself in front of the corporate building that holds his husband's soul captive, angrily stomping up and down the pavement while waving a sign that reads Damn You, Capitalism! and the thought makes him laugh.

He realises too late that he's been making an awful lot of noise, instantly shuts himself up with a hand over his mouth when Steve stirs awake and looks at him through bleary eyes.

   "Is everything okay?"

Steve sounds knackered (he learned that word from his British co-worker) and Eddie hates himself for ripping him out of his well-deserved sleep.

   "I'm sorry, baby. Everything's good. I didn't mean to wake you up. Just go back to sleep, okay? I'll see you in the morning."

Eddie leans down to kiss his forehead before he turns off the light and lays down next to him, trying to be as still as he can to let Steve drift off peacefully again.

But the damage is already done. Even without looking he can sense that Steve has trouble falling back asleep and it’s confirmed by the heavy sigh Steve lets out.

   "Can you-" His voice flitters quietly through the room, "Can you suck my dick?”

    Oookay, what?

Eddie can’t help but snort at those words.

Steve must be dreaming. Maybe he did fall back asleep after all.

   “I’m being serious, Eds!” Steve sounds almost offended.

He then rolls to the side and even in the dark, Eddie can see his big eyes staring straight at him.

So, not sleeping, then.

   “Babe, are you sure? I’m just asking because- well, we haven’t done anything for weeks and I miss it. God, do I miss it. But you’ve been completely out of it not even 5 minutes ago and-“

What the hell is he even going on about?

His perfect, beautiful husband wants him to suck him off. Why the fuck is he still babbling instead of using his mouth to do exactly that?

   “I just think it’d help me sleep?”

Steve uses that honeysweet voice of his, the one he knows Eddie can never say no to, the one he always uses to get what he wants. And- like, what is Eddie if not a very devoted, very helpful, very loving husband that would quite literally do anything for his man?

---

Steve’s boxers are gone as quickly as the blanket before Eddie makes himself comfortable between his husband’s spread legs.

It’s almost embarrassing how much he’s already drooling just thinking about the perfect weight of Steve’s glorious cock on his tongue but- excuse him for not keeping his excitement in check when he’s literally been suffering from Steve-withdrawal for weeks now!

Still, he tries to take his time, not wanting it to be over too quickly. He can hear in Steve’s pleading moans that he won’t last long, can taste Steve’s desperation in each drop of precum that hits his tongue as he licks the tip.

It’s heaven.

It’s so good Eddie wants to cry.

    Fuck, he missed this. Missed the familiar stretch of his lips when he takes Steve in, the familiar sound of Steve’s husky voice, the scent of freshly showered skin, the feeling of sinking deeper and deeper on his lover’s cock as he swallows him down like he’s starving for it.

His hips can’t seem to keep still, wiggling and rubbing against the sheets where his own cock is searching for friction. But his focus is on Steve, he can take care of himself later. This is just for the beautiful man that is the light of his life – he deserves it. Deserves to be worshipped like the divine creature he is.

   “Ed- Eddie, oh God! Oh fuck!”

Steve’s words spur him on. He finds the perfect rhythm, uses one hand to pump Steve’s cock while his tongue curls around the tip. His other hand strokes the sensitive skin on his inner thigh, dragging his nails up and down, knowing too well that it drives Steve just a little insane.

   “Babe, I’m- I- fuck! Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop. I’m so close!”

Eddie wouldn’t dream of it.

Not when it makes him so happy to hear and taste and feel his husband slowly falling to pieces. When, with every staggering breath, Steve crawls a little closer to the edge.

Until finally, Eddie is rewarded with a mouthful of Steve’s love; a sweet gift, despite the bitter taste, he swallows with pride, not wasting a single drop of it, taking it all in.

Beneath him, Steve’s trembling through his orgasm, legs shaking and breath uneven. He stops Eddie with a hand in his hair, tugging just lightly to make him look up.

   “Com’ere, baby. Wanna kiss you.”

A little reluctantly, Eddie leaves the perfect place between Steve’s thighs and crawls on top of him to comply.

They kiss slow and soft, no hurry, just their lips finding each other in the dark with gentle pressure.

   “Love you so much, baby,” Eddie whispers against Steve’s lips as he feels his movements slow down.

And as he kisses his way from Steve’s mouth to his cheek, to the tip of his nose, his closed lids and his forehead, Steve’s breathing eases into a steady, calm rhythm.

He’s asleep again, hopefully dreaming of beautiful things as he sinks deeper into Eddie’s embrace, lets his husband's warmth envelope him where they’re lying side by side.

Steve deserves it.

Because tomorrow, he has to fight his way through the constricting clutches of capitalism again.

Man, capitalism really sucks.

But, Eddie laughs to himself, he can suck harder.

[wonwooslibrary]

svt as boyfriends ♡ chan edition

member: lee chan (dino) x gn! reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, bullet points

word count: 714

summary: channie's boyfriend things <333

warnings: mentions of menstrual cycles & insulting in a loving way

author's note: hello! normally this is where i would be oops i'm getting back into writing but i'll be completely honest this time and say that i am completely falling out of love with it and i genuinely haven't opened a wip in so damn long. if i wasn't so far into this series, I definitely would not have finished it....i want to write more but it just might take me a while to find my love for it once again...thanks for still reading though <3 sorry this is so late, and I hope you enjoy reading!!!

Socially stupid bf <3 

If anyone sees you, they will always know that Chan is close behind 

Is so madly in love with you and doesn’t know how to live without you

Quality Time 

Loves taking you anywhere he goes, including dance practices or shopping 

Dinner dates are his thing - he’ll pull off the roses and candles and everything 

Constant texts when you can’t be together because of work or visiting family 

Such as hey i managed to find that sock that went missing in the laundry last week !! or how long do i put 12 pizza rolls in the microwave for 

Loves just being with you when you take part in your hobbies, even if he doesn’t particularly enjoy them himself 

Gets worried that you’ll get angry with him because he’s always with you and knows that you need your alone time once in a while 

Words of Affirmation

Compliments you through jokes or insults type of boyfriend 

You’re all like “I love you,” and he’s like, “You wouldn’t if I was a worm though :(“ and then you roll your eyes because come on, how could someone not love Lee Chan

Always apologizes for things he doesn’t need to apologize for because he doesn’t want to upset you :((( 

I don’t think Chan would be a big fan of pet names, to be honest, but if he was, I think they would just be versions of your name :3 

Melts into a puddle when you compliment him because !!! you are complimenting him !!!! 

Basically he can dish out all the compliments, but the minute you try saying them back, he turns into a literal tomato because he’s embarrassed but also so madly in love 

Physical Touch

I think he is secretly one of the biggest cuddle bugs in svt and nobody can change my mind

When he laughs, he always manages to fall into you some way, whether that be resting his head on your shoulder or crumpling into you

Loves holding hands (especially in public) but not in a possessive way, more of a I constantly want to be around you kind of way 

And of course you love it because it’s Lee Chan and you love everything about him 

On the other hand, there are definitely days that he doesn’t feel confident in himself or that he deserves the love you give him :((( 

You know on those days that you need to show your affection and make the first moves yourself,,,he likes loving you, but sometimes he just needs to be shown that he can be loved too

Acts of Service 

I’m not going to lie, I struggled a bit with this category, because I feel it’s easier for Chan to say things rather than show it

He’s just not sure whether him making tea for you says “i love you” or “sup bro” and wants to make sure he gets the right message across 

Because of this, your relationship took a while to form because both of you cannot take a hint and were so convinced you didn’t like each other 

Absolutely loves helping you with literally everything: doing chores, studying, getting ready in the morning, as long as you are there with him, he doesn’t care and will do anything 

He doesn’t realize that what he does shows how much he loves you, he just thinks its normal to help you, and vice versa 

Sometimes you protest against his help but he’s just a BOY WHO IS IN LOVE let him do what he wants :( 

Gift Giving 

A huuuge fan of gift giving 

Will buy anything that you could ever want or need

Stuffed animals and snacks galore !!!! 

If you have menstrual cycles, he would totally be the type of boyfriend to go to the store and buy whatever products you need and surprise you with a bunch of snacks and treats throughout the week 

You of course also spoil him to the best of your ability and he loves it, but also always feels bad when you spend money on him in any way

Loves matching and customizable gifts !!! He likes to give you things that can make you laugh and remember a specific moment with him because he thinks it’s cute (and you think it’s sappy and adorable)

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

@inmyheaddd

HAPPY BIRTHDAYYY JUDEEE 💖💖 WORDS CANNOT AND WILL NOT DESCRIBE HOW MUCH I LOVEE YOUU AND I REALLY HOPE THAT THIS DAY IS ONE OF THE BEST FOR YOUUU BECAUSE YOUR DESERVE IT SO MCUHHH!!🎂🥳🎉😘 YOURE ONE OF THE SWEETEST, KINDEST, MOST AMAZING PEOPLE, I KNOW AND IM SO GLAD TO HAVE MET YOUUUU

(AND ALSOOO I MANAGED TO WRITE SOMETHING SO LONG THAT TUMBLR WONT LET ME POST IT ALL OM THE SAME POST SOOOOO THERE’S TWO PARTSSS 😭😭 SORRY GIRLLL )

THIS IS SET BEFORE AVERYYYY (TOBIAS IS STILL ALIVE JUST NOT A FEATURE)

HERE IS MY BIRTHDAY PRESENT TO YOUUU, I HOPE YOU ENJOYYYY…

title: jude’s birthday (part 1)

pairing: jude x jameson hawthorne

“I hate how long it takes popcorn to pop,” Xander groaned putting his head in his hands as he stared dismally brown bag of popcorn doing pirouettes in the microwave.

Jude laughed, shaking her head, “it’s like two minutes.”

“Two whole minutes,” he replied, eyes widened with hyperbole, “outrageous isn’t it!”

“You are funny Xand,” she sighed.

It was one of Jude and Xander’s classic movie nights, they were hosted at least once a month and were quite the occasion. But, as usual, Xander was being extremely impatient for his popcorn. If Jude had a pound for every time they had this conversation, she’d probably be richer than him.

“It wasn’t a joke I really think that-“ the ding of the microwave cut him off.

“You were saying?” she raised an eyebrow, folding her arms in challenge.

“In theory,” Xander began, “two minutes always feels a lot longer than it seems.”

“Mmm sure,” she grinned playfully.

Xander had been Jude’s best friend forever now. She couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. He’d been there for so long he was automatically part of every thought she had, connected to her heart. They knew each other like the back of their hands, an interlocking history of stories shared between them.

“Let’s change the conversation topic,” he said quickly, averting his eyes.

Jude shrugged, leaning against the countertop behind her, “I don’t mind this one.”

“Well I do,” he countered, “let’s talk about you and Jameson.”

Jude’s stomach somersaulted at the sound of his name.

“Xander! Lower your voice!” she hissed, looking over her shoulders.

The kitchen didn’t exactly have thick walls. She’d never actually meant to tell Xander about her feelings for Jameson, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t tell anyone. But Xander was her best friend and there were only so many things she could keep from him. It turned out that birthday presents were significantly easier than crushes. Every second she tried to keep it, she felt like a liar, so eventually the truth was just revealed.

“Relax,” he shrugged, “he’s not even home.”

“Doesn’t matter, you promised me you wouldn’t speak about it,” Jude said, giving him a pointed look.

“So as your best friend you really expected me to say nothing about him to you?” he raised the one eyebrow that wasn’t burnt off.

“Well no but-“

“So you’ve spoken to him?” Xander asked, excitement glimmering in his eyes.

“I talk to him every day,” she sighed, “we’re friends, remember?”

“Ouch,” he winced, “the friendzone.”

Jude laughed, “you sound like a documentary voiceover.”

Somehow Xander always managed to make her laugh. He had the rare quality to pretty much turn any situation into a positive light. Jude loved that about him.

“Maybe I should make a documentary about you guys,” he pondered, putting the voice back on, “the Jujubear backs away once again, retreading from the rare Jameson raccoon dog-“

“Raccoon dog!” she yelped, unable to stop herself.

“He gives those vibes,” he shrugged in reply.

“He does not!”

“I think you have an unconscious bias,” Xander grinned, wiggling his eyebrow.

“Nope I’m very conscious of my bias actually,” she stuck her tongue out, laughing.

Jude had liked Jameson for a while now. Maybe a bit more than a while. Initially, Xander and Jude had been the two to click, best friends since the day Xander had found her lost doll, the one with her name engraved on the front. She remembered the moment distinctly, a little boy with intelligent eyes and a shy smile walking towards her. She’d been crying and was still a little bleary eyes, yet her expression totally flipped when he revealed the doll and asked her if it was hers. From then on they’d just been stuck with each other.

Jude had always been close to all of the brothers in her own way, growing up around them just naturally made them gravitate together. But with Jameson it had always felt that bit different, that bit more special. He made her feel free, like she could breathe, like the stress of life didn’t matter, like no weight was heavy on her chest anymore. She loved how she felt with him, how he made her feel inside.

“So have you made a move yet,” Xander asked her, a mischievous smile lacing his lips.

She stared at him, her face saying it all, “what do you think?”

“Jude!” he exclaimed, melodramatically throwing his head into his hands.

“It’s really hard,” she defended, arms up like a convicted criminal.

“You’re just scared,” he told her.

Xander was always honest, annoyingly honest. He didn’t even embellish the truth to soften the blow. Jude knew he had a point, she was scared of ruining over a decade of friendship with Jameson. It wasn’t exactly something she wanted to lose over her feelings. She’d rather be friends than nothing.

Still, she was slightly stubborn and didn’t want to fully admit that quite yet, “am not,” she countered.

“Are too!” Xander quipped, “and you can’t even admit it so you’re also in denial.”

“Eat your popcorn,” she grumbled, not looking directly into his eyes.

“Ahhhh so I am right but you can’t accept it,” he grinned, throwing a piece of popcorn into his mouth, “I see you Judesicle.”

“I swear to you Xander, I will steal all your blueberry scones if this conversation doesn’t end here,” she glared at him.

His face paled slightly and his jaw hung slack, “you wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” she said, with a dark smile.

Xander knew better than to mess with that face. He’d only seen it a couple of times but he recognised it always as a direct warning sign.

“Fine I’ll end the conversation,” he replied with a sigh.

Jude grinned, satisfied, before he flicked her forehead. She was more in shock than in pain but complained just as well. Xander teased her further but she could only smile. He was everything. A ray of sunshine. If she was drowning, he was her lifeline. He was always there, no matter what.

“You know I’ve decided something,” Xander said, popping another piece of popcorn in his mouth.

“Are you finally going to properly grow your eyebrows out?” Jude guessed, “seriously I miss them.”

“What? No! Ouch!”

“Sorry,” she said quickly, reaching for her water glass.

“I’m going to get you two together,” Xander announced.

Jude almost choked, “what?”

“You and Jamie,” he shrugged.

“What happened to ending the conversation,” she exclaimed with wide eyes.

Xander only smiled, “you never said for how long!”

“Hawthornes and their loopholes,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. Of course, the one time she hadn’t been meticulously specific with her words Xander had taken advantage.

“Sorry I can’t help it,” he replied, “anyways I am committed now, to make this relationship happen.”

Jude knew that look in his eyes that stubbornly determined look that he often had when one of his experiments was constantly failing. ‘Failure is just success waiting to happen’, he’d once told her. It was safe for anyone to say that Xander was an optimist.

“No you’re not,” she shook her head, “you’re going to stay out of it.”

“You wish,” he pokes his tongue out, “think of me as your wingman.”

“Well can my ‘wingman’ stop meddling with my love life,” Jude deadpanned, folding her arms.

“That’s all a wingman is meant to do!” he yelled, exasperated, “you want to take away my destiny Jude? My one life goal, the desire and aspiration of my soul, the thing that makes my heart-“

“Fine.” she said dryly, “you can help-“

A wide grin spread across his lips, “I knew I’d make you crack.”

“But-“

“Why is there a but!” he pouted.

“On my terms,” she finished.

“Okay…” Xander said slowly, “but your terms can’t be ‘don’t help’.”

Jude made a face.

“You’re so predictable,” he teased, ruffling her hair, “you have to remember I’m the loophole master, you’re not getting anything past me.”

She rolled her eyes, smoothing down the hair on top of her head, “fine, but here are the terms so pay attention. Term one, don’t make it obvious because I swear Xand, if he finds out I’m going to kill you.”

“You know for you to get together he has to know you like him right?” Xander said.

“Yes but knowing you, he’ll find out way to early and if he doesn’t like me back-“

“Which I think he does,” he interrupted.

Jude groaned, she’d been in this cycle with him too many times, “stop feeding into my delusions!”

“But I’m your wingman!”

“Just!” she sighed running her fingers through her hair, “anyway, if he doesn’t like me back the it’ll get awkward so try and retain yourself.”

Xander saluted, “roger that!”

“Second term-“

“How long is this list?” he asked impatiently, somehow he had the attention span of three year old for conventional instructions but not for complex maths.

“You agreed to my terms remember so there’s as many as I like,” she beamed, batting her eyelashes sweetly.

He groaned. He’d missed a loophole.

“Second term: no grand schemes to noticeably leave us together,” she announced, “please try and be subtle.”

“Subtle is my middle name!”

“Xander,” Jude said flatly, “you’re about a subtle as an elephant doing a ballet routine on a pogo stick wearing multicoloured polka dots.”

“I thought you liked that about me,” he said, large brown eyes wide.

“I do,” she reassured him, “just not when it comes to me and Jameson.”

“Rewind,” he cut in, “isn’t term two the same as term one?”

“No, term one is essentially don’t reveal I like Jameson with your mouth,” she explained, “term two is don’t reveal I like Jameson with your actions.”

“What’s term three; avoid obvious body language?” he scoffed.

“Wow you’re picking this up faster than usual!” Jude teased.

“Hey!”

“No sneaky looks,” she instructed, “obvious eye contact, smirks or that wiggly eyebrow thing you do.”

“This?” Xander asked, pointing to his eyebrow and a half, wiggling them up and down.

“Exactly,” she said, “please don’t do that.”

His expression dropped, “but I love making my eyebrow wiggle!”

“Restrain yourself wingman,” she replied, patting his shoulder.

He gave a long and exaggerated sigh, “for the good of your relationship, I will.”

“There is no relationship,” Jude muttered, “don’t get my hopes up.”

“Yet… there is no relationship yet,” he corrected, “I’m not getting your hopes up, I just have a whole lot of faith that this is going to work out.”

She sighed, with a small smile silently questioning what she’d ever done to deserve a best friend with such a beautiful soul in her life.

“Okay,” she confided, “fourth term Grayson and Nash do not find out.”

Xander hesitated for a long second before replying. Jude’s chest seized in panic. No one else was supposed to know.

“Hate to break it to you,” he winced, “but I think they already know.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry but-“

“Why would you tell them!” she exclaimed, with wide eyes, her heart racing.

Part of her almost felt betrayed. It wasn’t like Xander to spill anything she’d told him, in fact he knew nearly all of her secrets. One side of her brain was telling her he’d never do that and the other was saying the proof is in the pudding. All Jude knew was that she was starting to get a headache.

“I didn’t say anything I swear,” he defended.

“I trusted you Xand!”

“I swear on my last blueberry scone I said nothing!” he said quickly, holding his hands in the air so she could see none of his fingers were crossed.

Jude knew then he was telling the truth. Not just from the uncrossed fingers or the fact he swore on his last blueberry scone, but from the earnest look shining through his eyes, that bled into his face. Guilt began to gnaw at her internal organs for assuming so quickly.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to jump to con-“

“It’s fine,” he shrugged with no hint of offence, “don’t worry about it.”

“How do they know then?” Jude wondered aloud, confused.

Maybe they’d overheard one of her and Xander’s many conversation on this topic? Maybe she’d spoken in her sleep subconsciously? Maybe Grayson was a secret mindreader? She’d always suspected to last one anyway.

“Jude,” Xander sighed, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder, “has it ever occurred to you that you make it a teensy bit obvious?”

She giggled and shook her head, “I don’t make it obvious.”

He looked at her.

“Do I?” she murmured, anxiously.

“Let’s just say I think the only person who doesn’t know you like Jameson is Jameson,” Xander said slowly.

She stood still, paralysed, “please tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I could but as your best friend and newly appointed wingman-“ he paused to wink, “- I have to be honest with you.”

“This is so bad,” she groaned.

“Did you miss the part where I mentioned Jameson not knowing?”

“Of course he knows Xander!” she cried, “do you even know how perceptive he is!?”

“Not when it comes to girls, trust me.”

“I’ve messed everything up all over some stupid feelings for a stupid boy with really cute, get-lost-in-for-hours green eyes!” Jude said, raking her fingers through her hair.

“You haven’t messed anything up, you’re overthinking entirely,” Xander soothed, putting an arm around her, “but can we keep fangirling over my brother to a minimum please, I do not need to hear that.”

“But you’re my wingman,” she teased, looking up at him.

“Touché Jude, touché,” he sighed.

“But fine I’ll keep it a minimum around you,” she replied.

“Thank you,” he said, “and I promise you Jameson has no idea you like him, trust me.”

She glanced over him sceptically, questioning his logic silently, as much as she did trust him, the signs pointed the other way.

“When have I ever let you down Jude? Have some faith in me,” he said.

He had a point. Xander had never let her down. Not in all the time she’d known him. No matter how big or small it was, he was by her side immediately. All his promises were kept, all the shared secrets, hidden.

“Okay then,” she told him, “I believe you.”

“Great,” he flashed her a grin, “now you go to bed whilst I go and work out phase one of mission:” he took a deep breath, “get-my-best-friend-and-brother-to-go-out-because-they’re-both-too-scared-to-make-the-first-move-which-is-totally-dumb- because-they’re-clearly-made-for-each-other.”

“Well that’s a bit of a mouthful,” Jude replied dryly.

“I shortened it to mission JJ,” Xander said, moving his hand across the air as if revealing a title.

Jude looked at him, head tilted to the side.

“Mission Jude and Jameson,” he clarified, “obviously,”

“Right…”

“Anyway I’ll catch up with you tomorrow,” he said, “you need to get your beauty sleep.”

“Hey!” she yelled, whacking his arm, “and what happened to our movie night? There’s cold popped popcorn in that bowl for about six people.”

His eyes widened suddenly remembering their plans, “oh yeah.”

“And I made homemade brownies this afternoon per your request!” she said, “did I do that for nothing?”

“How could I forget!” he replied, “change of plans, movie night first, plotting mission JJ tomorrow.”

“I call first dibs on the movie,” Jude said before he could get there.

“No fair!” he whined.

“You snooze you lose Hawthorne,” she grinned, “besides I made the tray of brownies that were about to enjoy so surely I should get first pick.”

“But I’m your wingman,” Xander pouted, trying to win her over with the puppy dog eyes.

Luckily for Jude, she’d gotten good at resisting. It was certainly not an easy task, something about the pleading expression and longing face from his eyes reeled you in like a sirens song.

“Wingman shwingman,” she stuck her tongue out, “we’re watching ‘bones and all’.”

“No not this torture!” Xander protested, “not again! It’s like the fifth time this week!”

“Second actually,” she corrected him, grabbing the box of brownies, “and don’t lie, you secretly love it. “

“No I don’t,” he replied, “it’s disturbing Jude, utterly disturbing that you enjoy it.”

“It isn’t!”

“And you always cry at the end even when you know what coming,” he rolled his eyes, carrying the popcorn and drinks.

Jude gasped, “don’t judge me, you bawled it on Tuesday night!”

Xander didn’t look her in the eye and made his way to their movie room. Despite Hawthorne house making multiple movie theatres Jude and Xander had created their own. It had all begun when they were ten, making pillow forts and now it had become this. A large white screen sat towards the back of the room, a projector ready to play the movie. The room was adorned with fairy lights and was cozy and warm. The sofa was a mess of fluff and blankets, dozens of mismatched pillows and soft plushies sat there, waiting to be cuddled.

“Do you really want to cry again tonight?” Xander sighed, slumping down.

“Yes,” she replied, sitting beside him with a grin.

“Do you really want me to cry again tonight?” he asked, trying to play on her heartstrings.

“Brownies,” she sang, waving the box towards him, a little incentive went a long way with Xander.

He glared at her for all of two seconds before taking the box, grumbling, “fine.”

“See I knew you secretly loved this movie,” Jude beamed, pressing play.

“I do not but I love you and I love brownies so I’ll brace it,” Xander said, taking a bite.

“Good idea.”

***

The credits rolled across the screen, not that Jude could even read them, her eyes were too blurred with tears. How did it get her every time?

“It’s so beautiful,” she choked out.

No matter how many times she watched it, the feeling never got old.

“Don’t cry you’ll set me off too,” Xander said, clearly trying to keep it together, wide brown eyes glossy.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t shed a tear at the halfway mark,” she exclaimed.

“I’m actually hardcore Judsicle,” he responded, “made soully of masculinity and weightlifting and football and…”

“And scones?” she raised a brow.

“Well of course I’m 98% scone,” he smiled.

“Naturally,” she grinned.

“Speaking of which you know what would be amazing,” Xander said.

The way he said amazing, made Jude question the next thing that might come out of his mouth, partly because she knew Xander so well it would be something utterly bizarre but equally wonderful that wouldn’t fail to surprise her.

“What?”

“If we cut a blueberry scone in half and put icecream in the middle,” he proposed.

“Like a scone icecream sandwich,” she asked.

“Exactly!” he clicked fingers, “that would be revolutionary.”

“I’ll stick to my brownies,” she laughed.

“Oooo ooo ooo,” he bounced excitedly, shaking her arm, “what if i sandwiched one of your brownies in a scone, now that would be-“

“Completely ruining a culinary masterpiece.”

Jude’s heart skipped a beat. It was only his voice that could do that to her. She shot a look at Xander that said ‘I thought he was out’ which Xander only shrugged in response to. Jude dared to look in Jameson’s direction and there he stood, loose tie, slightly messy hair, his top two buttons undone and blazer jacket slung over one shoulder. She noted the scratches on his patent shoes as well as the watch on his wrist which looked to be two minutes behind.

“Isn’t that right, Judy?” he grinned.

Butterflies attacked her stomach like an angry mob, hurling themselves at the walls. They fluttered around carelessly and bashfully. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her from smiling right back like an idiot.

She glared at him instead, “don’t call me that.”

“Okay…” he paused, “…Judy.”

“You’re back early,” she commented, regretting saying the words as soon as they left her mouth.

Why was she being so obvious when she’d literally just lectured Xander in not being obvious? She knew she was going to replay this moment over and over tonight and drive herself mad over it.

“Got tired,” he shrugged.

Jude’s eyes fell over his attire again, scanning it for any clues. Jameson wasn’t one to leave places early, he liked a good party and a couple of drinks. But judging by his state he hadn’t had many, if any. Her eyes caught when they met his collar. A perfect red stain was printed on the white, a pair of round lips leaving their mark.

It felt like a punch in the gut, her heart just plummeted to her stomach. She didn’t think he liked her so why did it hurt so much to come to the realisation he actually didn’t. Why feel sad over something she hadn’t even lost?

Jameson caught her looking, his eyes growing wide with some sort of panic, “this isn’t what it looks like,” he rushed.

“I know you well enough now Jameson,” Jude laughed it off, burying the pain, “I’m not your mother, you won’t be in trouble for kissing a girl.”

“Like our mother would care,” Xander murmured.

She’d almost forgotten he was sat there, watching the whole thing play out. Tonight, Jude knew she’d definitely be asking him to analyse every detail of this conversation with her.

“Oh I didn’t kiss anyone tonight,” Jameson replied.

She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head towards his shirt, “lipstick says otherwise.”

He sighed, “I spilt whiskey down my shirt after getting a little tipsy and it stained, shame really I liked that shirt, anyway some guy offered me a spare shirt, one catch was he’d worn it the previous night, I didn’t even notice the lipstick stains until I was on my way back.”

She stared at him blankly, betraying no emotion with her face.

“You don’t believe me,” Jameson said.

“It’s a bit elaborate,” she replied, tilting her head to the side.

“That’s why it’s true,” he pressed on, an inch of desperation in his voice.

“Okay,” Jude said.

“You still don’t believe me, do you?”

Jude smiled coyly.

Looking at his shirt now, it didn’t fit as well as his other ones. Usually Jameson’s clothes were expertly tailored to his body, this shirt hung too loose around his torso yet his arms made the fabric taut. All of the buttons were there, also uncommon for Jameson as he nearly always had one that was loose or had fallen off.

Still, leaving Jameson Hawthorne the mystery as to why she wouldn’t believe him was one thing that would surely play on his mind. And Jude wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea of playing on his mind.

“Right I’m picking the next movie,” Xander announced, rushing to the movie box.

She groaned, “fine.”

“Don‘t give me that look I just sat through ‘bones and all’ for you,” he scowled.

“I love that movie,” Jameson grinned.

Jude look up at him, “you do?”

“I don’t,” Xander yelled from the corner.

“Yeah,” he replied, “I had no idea you liked it too.”

“Yeah I do,” she said.

“Maybe you two should watch it together sometime,” Xander said, plainly and simply, no weird signals or hidden messages, “it would save me from a few hours of torment.”

Jude smiled to herself. Maybe this wingman thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Yeah maybe we should,” Jameson nodded.

Her heart leapt and began to race uncontrollably. He wanted to watch her favourite movie with her. She pinched herself just to make sure this moment was real.

“I’d be up for it,” she agreed.

“Soon then,” he said, “but now I have to go and shower, I don’t know what happened in this shirt and I don’t think I want to.”

She wrinkled her nose, “you should probably burn it after.”

He leant down, “you read my mind.”

Jude felt her cheeks burn.

“Enjoy your movie night,” he winked, “goodnight Judy.”

“Jude,” she snapped.

“Judy,” he sang, sauntering away.

She shook her head with a laugh and watched him until he was out of the door. Still, Xander and Jude were quiet until they were sure he was completely out of earshot.

“Well hello Mr and Mrs Flirty McFlirtison,” Xander exploded, bringing back the eyebrow wiggle.

“Xand!” she yelled, slapping his arm before burying her face into his shoulder to hide her blush.

“I mean I thought rom coms were bad but you two top that entirely,” he said.

“Oh shut it!” Jude tusked, “he wasn‘t even flirting.”

“Please,” he scoffed, “were we in the same room?”

“You’re totally making it out more than it is,” she rolled her eyes, “besides you saw the lipstick.”

“He explained it,” Xander defended.

“Likely story,” she sighed, sinking under a pile of blankets.

“You know it’s true, I saw you analysing,” he replied narrowing his eyes at her, “and usually I can always see through my brothers lying and my lie detector senses were not tingling.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s not going to happen,” she said.

She needed to be real, honest with herself. The chances were slim, slimmer than slim. Maybe she could settle for just friends.

“Nu-uh I’ve started mission JJ now, it will be completed,” he replied a strong hard determination in his voice.

“Forget it Xand,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I have a talent for being annoyingly determined and persistent,” he sighed, “so sorry but no can do.”

She rolled her eyes, “what movie are we watching?”

He sensed the changed in subject and didn’t press her anymore. Another thing about Xander was his incredible ability to sense emotions and let things go when they needed to be let go.

“Finding Nemo,” he replied, “obviously.”

Jude looked at him for a moment. Time stood still and memories of their friendship played like a mini movie in her mind. Every movie night they’d had, every laugh they’d shared, every time he’d held her when she cried and every time she’d held him after his grandfather was horrible. Every moment, every second of her everything.

“Hey Xand,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“I love you,” she beamed.

A large smile spread across his lips before he swiftly tackled her with a classic Xander hug.

“Love you too Jujubear,” he said, “now where are those brownies, I need to make my brownie-scone sandwich concoction: the scrownie as I like to call it.”

“Did you just make that name up now?” she asked him.

“That obvious, huh?”

“You,” she said, “are one of a kind.”

“Best way to be,” he poked his tongue out pressing play on the movie.

***

Jude woke up with her head on Xander’s stomach. His long limbs were sprawled out every which way. She almost laughed at the sight. Light streamed through the curtains, giving her a perfect view of the chaos. Pillow there, sweatshirt here, half eaten bowl of popcorn there, Xander’s sock here. She noticed someone had covered them both over with a blanket.

Slowly sitting up, she stretched out her stiff body before she covered Xander back over with another blanket. Jude sighed, wiping the sleep from her eyes before untangling a piece of popcorn from her hair. That must’ve been from the midnight popcorn war. She smiled to herself and glanced at the screen, the jungle book was playing quietly the background, though the last thing she remembered watching was little women.

Groggily, she stood up and despite stretching, her legs and hips still clicked. She made her way to the kitchen, craving a warm drink. As she walked in she hit something hard and stumbled back. Jude felt her stomach drop as she fell backwards, panic seizing her throat, keeping her from yelling out. Inches from the floor, a strong hand grasped the small of her back, saving Jude from what seemed to be an inevitable crash into the tiles beneath her. Reeling her upwards and setting her straight, she met the emerald eyes of her saviour.

“Good morning,” he smiled softly.

She just stared, unable to form a coherent sentence or even a simple thank you. Jameson Hawthorne was stood there, shirtless, his arm still around her waist. An electric feeling tingled deep within her chest, a spark of sorts. Their eyes clung to one another’s and for a moment everything stood still. The clock’s hands didn’t tick, the birdsong was silenced and their mouths didn’t breathe.

And then it passed. Then it was nothing again and she jerked away suddenly, realising where she was and who she was with. Her brain could only process one word as she stared. Abs. Abs. Abs.

“Holy cow!”

“Ouch,” he laughed, “I know it’s early but I didn’t think I looked that bad.”

The regret sunk in, she’d pulled away from his touch, his hands on her waist. She shook the feeling away.

“No you don’t look bad,” she rambled, “you look the opposite of bad, actually, which is good, which is an understatement, not that I think you look good good but I don’t think you don’t look good, but you just surprised me because-“

“Hey I was kidding,” Jameson chuckled, “do you want a coffee?”

Jude knew her cheeks were bright red before she felt the heat in them. She’d never felt so mortified in her life.

“Rather a green tea please,” she replied meekly.

He raised an eyebrow fetching two mugs, “I thought you were a coffee person?”

Jude’s heart palpitated as her stomach tied into yet another love knot. He remembered. Why did he remember? How did he remember? Had he noticed her always drinking coffee?

“I am…” she hesitated, “…well was, I’ve recently found a new love for green tea.”

“Nash got you into them didn’t he,” Jameson sighed.

She winced, “possibly.”

He wrinkled his nose, “that means I’ve lost another bet.”

“Bet?”

“I wagered,” he explained, “that Nash couldn’t convince another person green tea was actually good because it tastes like grass-“

“It doesn’t not!” she interrupted him, passionate for her cause.

He laughed, a sound melodic to her ears, “I seriously thought I had this one in the bag.”

“I can’t believe my love for green tea is now all part of a bet,” she sighed, resting her elbows of the counter to cup her face in her hands.

“Awww are you really surprised?” Jameson asked.

“Oddly enough,” she replied, “no.”

“Good,” he winked, sending a swarm of baby butterflies into her stomach, “now let me make you a nice cup of grass stew.”

She rolled her eyes, “it doesn’t tatse like grass.”

“Are you trying to convince me or you, Judy?”

“Shut up,” she groaned.

“How about, no?” he proposed with a smirk.

“You’re annoying,” she commented, jabbing him in the ribs.

He squirmed, ticklish there.

“No, I’m Jameson,” he poked his tongue out.

She laughed, tilting her head back a little as she did. From the corner of her eye, she could’ve sworn his eyes were more fixated on her than the drinks he was supposed to be making,

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, turning on the coffee machine.

“Ish,” she shrugged, “Xander as a pillow did not work any wonders on my neck though. Did you sleep okay?”

“As well as I could,” he replied smoothly, “there was the occasional midnight wander.”

She grinned in reply, then swiftly changed the subject, “thanks for not letting me crack my head open on the floor.”

“No problem,” Jameson said, “it would’ve been a real hassle to clean up.”

“Glad you saved yourself the trouble,” she joked back.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, “just watch where you’re going next time.”

“Maybe you should watch where you’re going,” she criticised.

He shook his head with a smile as he handed her a mug, “drink up your grass water.”

“It’s not grass water,” she snapped, her expression deadly serious.

“Keep telling yourself that and one day you might actually believe it,” he responded, taking a sip of his own coffee.

“Like how you keep telling yourself you’re actually funny,” she countered.

His eyebrows shot up, he swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing up and then back down. He cleared his throat, leaning down closer towards her, “you, Judy, are ruthless.”

“Don’t lie, you know you love it,” Jude teased, feeling a little bold.

“I do,” he said, not even denying it.

A golden hope blossomed in the left side of Jude’s chest. It burned with a fiery passion and glowed brighter with every little thing that happened between them. A comfortable silence settled over the kitchen as the two of them just sipped their drinks and enjoyed the presence of one another.

“I like those,” Jameson said suddenly, breaking the silence.

So deep in her own thought Jude registered the comment later than she normally would’ve, “what?”

“Your pyjamas,” he cocked his head towards her pink pyjama set.

She almost choked on her green tea, looking down at her attire, “my pyjamas?”

He nodded, “they’re cute.”

“Cute?”

“Is this a repetition game?” he deadpanned.

“No, sorry,” she laughed, “thanks.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“It was horrendous Xander!” Jude exclaimed, on their walk, the air crisp and cold.

All the trees had shed their leaves, looking naked and icy on the pale winters day. Bleached of colour, a small layer of ice slush that you could just about call snow, lay on the ground. It was so bitter that you could feel the cold biting through your coat, tinting the tops of your ears and cheeks and nose with a warm red. Winter walks were a necessity to Jude, but on this one she needed to rant as well.

She’d finally managed to drag Xander from his slumber after many different tactics. Blasting alarm bell sound effects through speakers, pillow attacks and the good old temptation of food. Eventually she’d coaxed him out of the house to go on a walk to discuss the events of the morning. She explain everything to him in the exact detail she remembered it in, each part sounding worse and worse as she said it out loud.

“It doesn’t sound that bad,” Xander replied, pulling on his gloves after his hands had gotten too bored of sitting in his pockets.

“Ughhh and it was so embarrassing,” she groaned, “no, scratch that, it was mortifying!”

“You’re overthinking it,” he sighed putting an arm around her, “you have a tendency to do that.”

“Overthinking!” she exclaimed, “how is this overthinking?”

“Maybe he didn’t think anything of it,” Xander suggested.

“I can’t work out whether that’s better or worse,” Jude sighed.

If he didn’t think anything of it then it meant the moment he seen her and then caught her had meant nothing he if he did it meant she’d made an idiot of herself.

“Look I’m sure it’s fine,” he soothed.

“Easy for you to say,” she scoffed, “you didn’t humiliate yourself.”

“You didn’t humiliate yourself,” he sighed.

“I basically told him he looked good shirtless!” Jude said, with a dismal look.

“Hey you finally made a move,” Xander chuckled, attempting to get her to lighten up.

“Not funny Xand,” Jude deadpanned, “I hate the world.”

“No you don’t,” he laughed, pulling her closer into him.

“This is my second caffeine hit today!” she pointed out, waving her coffee cup in his face.

“Yeesh,” he coughed, “you’re really going through it.”

“It isn’t a joke Xand!” she said, “I just want the ground to just swallow me whole.”

“I know and it sucks,” he sighed, “but I have an idea.”

“Is this a Xander idea?”

“Of course,” he grinned, “we’re going to do something to take your mind off of things?”

Jude furrowed her eyebrows, “like what?”

“How do you feel about a game of laser tag?”

***

“This looks questionable,” Jude murmured as Xander handed her a light up laser tag vest.

“Don’t you trust me Judesicle,” he tilted his head to the side.

She sighed, pulling the vest on, “to an extent.”

“Good enough,” he shrugged, moving to her side to tighten the straps.

Their roles reversed as Xander slipped his vest on and Jude helped him do his straps tight enough. He went through the basic rules of the game and how to work everything as well as showing her around the area so he didn’t have such an advantage. Of course, he’d played many times with his brothers so he had an advantage there but Jude was ready. She had too much feeling to not be.

“There’s me and you and of course the simulations of extra people that you can shoot or get shot by,” Xander finished his explanation, “there are three, one blue, one green and one red.”

“Perfect,” she nodded, having had absorbed nearly every word.

“See you on the other side old friend,” he nodded, taking her hand and giving it a firm shake, with a solemn look in his eyes.

“Does this game entail death,” she asked.

“No but it sounded like a cool line to drop right about now,” Xander’s face broke out into a grin.

“Okay, let’s get this started,” she said.

Jude shook his hand with a grin before they walked in opposite directions. The question was where to start. She wanted to be hidden and even though she was familiar with the place, Xander knew it back to front was an obvious hiding place was pretty much out of the question.

She eventually chose a flat, unassuming wall and pressed her back up against it, holding her laser gun waiting for the sound to tell her the game had begun. A sharp, crisp whistle like sound screamed through the empty air and the game had begun.

***

Jude’s face was red and her face sleeked with sweat, she was also a little breathless. She’d managed to hit the other players quite successfully gaining her some points but she’d also lost some from being shot herself. Breathing heavily she’d found a corner to hide in, waiting for someone to pass to shoot them.

As soon as she heard footsteps she knew it was Xander. He was also heaving, trying to inhale as much oxygen as possible as he continued to run. Jude readied her gun and with one swift, well-timed pull of the trigger, Xander’s white light dulled to nothing. Xander looked up confused, until he saw Jude and screamed.

“Way to give a man a heart attack!” he yelled.

“It’s called tactics,” she winked, running off before his vest came back on and he could shoot again.

She ran across an opening, always a dangerous thing, but lucky for her, her lights still remained on. She made her way down a narrow pathway and twisted through walls and bends when she realised something. She looked down as her pink lights faded. Confused she looked around, getting a start when she saw Xander not three feet behind her, blowing the end of his gun as if it were a pistol.

“Did you follow me?” She asked.

“I wouldn’t prefer to say I tracked you,” he shrugged.

“How? I ran across the opening and no one followed,” she said.

“It was a combination of an epic floor roll,” he explained, “and very silent feet.”

The minute was up, her lights came back on, so she took the opportunity to shot first.

“Hey!” Xander yelled as she sprinted off, “you can’t distract me with conversation to beat me!”

“You snooze, you lose Xand,” she yelled back, running off.

She didn’t hear his reply if he did respond, she was too far away. Suddenly her lights faded again and in the corner of her eye she saw the blue simulation. She sighed, the whole game that blue one had been catching her out. She ran towards another set of jagged pathways with walls parallel to each other and slipped between them carefully, eyes on her target. The red simulation. Once her lights were back on she aimed.

Suddenly she saw a flicker of green approaching and knew she had to make a run for it. Mid-movement, she shot off the red, then turned to the green and managed to get it too. She noticed Xander trying to hide behind a wall so expertly aimed her laser gun around the corner to hit him too. The only one left was the blue simulation, but she wanted to hit it before the other’s lights came back on.

Her eyes darted from left to right until she caught it. The simulation seemingly sprinted down a different corridor, so Jude followed. Fearlessly running, she didn’t take long to catch up to the blue programmed player, and took even less time to shoot him. With a satisfactory smile, she watched as the lights dimmed and turned back to the other way to continue playing. She found Xander mid laser war with the green simulation. Dodging and shooting, dodging and-

A sound roared over all the chaos signalling the game was over. Breathless, Jude and Xander made their way to the exit and the simulations disappeared into thin air.

“Who knew laser tag could take it out of you huh?” Jude panted, taking her light up vest off.

“Daily workout checked off of my to do list,” Xander agreed.

Her eyebrows shot up, “you have a to do list.”

“Nope I have a scrambled mind full of things I’ve had to do in the past that occasionally come back to bite me,” he responded.

“I need to buy you a notebook,” she told him.

“Too conventional for my liking,” he wrinkled his nose.

“What if it played music whenever you opened it?” She proposed.

“I’m more intrigued now I must say,” he mused, making Jude laugh.

“So who won?” she asked him, shrugging off her gear.

“You,” he said.

“What?”

He pointed up to the point board, “you’re a natural.”

“I’m not sure about that one,” she laughed.

“Beat me and it’s your first go ever,” Xander shrugged, then his eyes sparkled, “I want to see you against Gray!”

“And risk my life?” she scoffed, “yeah, I think I’ll pass.”

“Come on Jude,” he sighed, “where’s your Hawthorne spirit?”

“I ran it over when you mentioned the possibility of competing against Grayson the Destroyer,” she replied smoothly.

“I forgot we nicknamed him that,” Xander contemplated wistfully.

“I’m still not over the scrabble incident,” she said, the game they had given him the nickname in.

“I’ll rope you into it one day,” he decided.

“Have fun trying,” she said with a stubborn smile.

“Race you back to the house!” Xander suddenly exclaimed.

“What?”

“Go!”

He took off before she even

“Hey!” Jude yelled, “get back here you cheat!”

And then she started sprinting.

***

She still beat Xander in the race, catching up to him easily. He was right, laser tag had been a good distraction, but what now? Now showered and in a fresh set of clothes Jude retreated to her favourite of the libraries in the house for a bit of quiet.

She needed some peace with her own mind and thoughts. Halfway through the second paragraph of the page, Nash sauntered in hands in his pockets and cowboy hat tilted forwards. Jude looked up to meet him, something about his eyes looked sad and hollow. That made her feel a little sad and hollow.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

He sat down across from her, “you look tired.”

“Xander managed to get me to play three round of laser tag,” she replied, with a small yawn, “that might have something do with it.”

He chuckled softly, “only our Xand.”

Pain flickered across his face for the fraction of a second, if Jude had blinked, she would’ve missed it. She hummed in reply to his comment, eyes flicking between him and the page of her book.

She paused and shut the book, “are you okay Nash?”

“Yeah,” he replied quickly, hoarsely, like something had caught in his throat.

“Are you sure?” Jude pressed on.

Nash nodded, “of course I am.”

He wasn’t. Everyone knew it. Ever since his break up with Alisa he’d been a mess. Obviously no one saw what a mess he was but they could feel it. It didn’t feel like Nash was walking into a room, rather a mass of mixed up emotions.

“Okay,” she said slowly, “were you looking for someone?”

“Not in particular,” he shrugged, “I like this library.”

“Me too,” she replied quietly.

They fell into a comfortable silence as Nash surveyed the book shelves, his fingers running down spines of well loved books until the right one caught his eye.

“Try this,” he said, handing Jude a book.

She looked down, Amerika by Franz Kafka. Slowly she took the book from his hands and traced her hands across the cover.

“I believe it’s one of his first books,” Nash said, “you’ll like it trust me.”

“How do you know?” she wondered aloud.

“Because I have a tendency to observe people and based on previous reads,” he responded, “you’ll like this one.”

“Why’ve you been keeping such a close eye on me?” she raised her eyebrows looking at his quizzically.

“You’re my little sister at heart,” Nash told her softly, “how could I not?”

Jude’s heart squeezed. She’d always seen Nash as a role model, an older brother, but she’d never expected him to think the same of her.

“Thanks Nash,” she smiled.

“Don’t thank me kid,” he said, grabbing a book with an emerald cover and sitting in a leather armchair.

After a while she felt Nash’s eyes on her and looked up.

“What’s the question that you’re burning to ask me?” she shut her book, “just ask it.”

He sighed and paused for a long thoughtful while, “I’ll cut to the chase. Are you and Jamie a thing?”

“What? No!” Jude exclaimed quickly, too quickly, too defensively “I mean no, we’re just friends, just friends.”

“Okay,” he nodded slowly.

“Just friends,” she clarified.

He raised an eyebrow, “you mentioned.”

“You and Alisa broke up,” she blurted out, every compassionate, apologetic sentence she’d wanted to start with slipping through her finger faster than water.

“I know,” Nash said quietly, “I was sort of there.”

“Sorry,” she corrected herself, “I wanted to say I was sorry.”

“Thanks kid,” he nodded sharply, inhaling unevenly.

Jude groaned and put her head in her hands, “that came out all wrong.”

“I figured,” Nash responded, cracking a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

She sighed. She knew she had to ask. She had a feeling she also knew the answer. As she looked him in the eye, he predicted what she was going to say, yet still let her ask.

“Are you leaving again?”

“For a bit,” he murmured, looking at his cowboy boots, “yeah, need space, air, these place suffocates me too much, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Jude mumbled.

“It’s not your fault,” he said sadly before he paused for a moment, “can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” she nodded.

“Take care of him for me, okay?” Jude knew in an instant, he was talking about Jameson, “all of them.”

“Of course,” she said softly.

He took her small hands and clasped them between his calloused ones. Nash looked her in the eye as he told her, “you’re the strongest one of us, kid.”

“Nash,” she murmured, tears welling up, “will you ever come back?”

“I always come back,” he promised silently.

“So did you really come here to say goodbye?” Jude said, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Yes and no,” he replied, as confusing as ever, as Hawthorne as ever.

“Bye Nash,” she whispered, her voice barely a sound.

“Goodbye J,” Nash said, pulling her into his arms, “I’ll miss you.”

“Not as much as I’ll miss you,” she murmured into his chest, inhaling his scent for the last time, she realised, in a while probably.

Nash was a constant, in a sea of madness, he was the rock that refused to erode. And now he was leaving because if he stayed he would break. He’d rather be broken far away and come back fixed than break here. Jude knew that. She wished she didn’t understand. Then she could be mad and this whole goodbye would be easier. But Jude had never been at goodbyes.

“Not possible, kid,” he said tenderly, kissing the top of her head.

He let her go, before squeezing her shoulders. With one final very cowboy nod, he began to walk away and she watched him with glossy eyes and a full heart.

“Oh and Jude,” he said spinning around.

“Yeah?”

“By the time I’m back you two better be going out,” Nash winked.

“Nash we’re just-“

“Friends,” he murmured, “I know.”

Then he left.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

She’d watched as the motorbike had pulled out of Hawthorne House and driven down the rode. She’d watched as he’d paused at the gate to take on final look behind. She’d watched as Nash, with a single bag and his cowboy hat had left. This was gong to be hard on all of the brothers, Jude knew that as well as anyone.

But still, the next day, a sadness weighed on her own chest. Nash was gone and might be for a while. The reality only just seemed to be sinking in. She slowly focused her attention to her book, not the one Nash recommended her but another. She wanted to save that one for when she needed Nash, so it would remind her of him.

“What you reading?”

It made her jump but she suppressed any reaction. She didn’t expect anyone to be there but she knew to voice all too well. It sent a tingle down her spine.

“A book,” she replied, not tearing her eyes from its contents.

“What book?” Jameson said from behind her.

“The metamorphosis,” she told him, closing it to reveal the cover.

“Franz Kafka?” He asked, walking around to sit next to her.

Her eyes lit up suddenly, “you’ve read it?”

“You sound surprised,” he laughed.

“Not surprised,” she said, “just shocked.”

“That’s a synonym of surprised,” he teased, ruffling the hair on the top of her head.

“Excited then,” she corrected, pushing his hand away, “now I have someone to talk about it to.”

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement, an overcast of seriousness shadowing his expression, “Nash recommended him to me too.”

“How did you…” she trailed off, “why are you back so late anyway?”

“Detention,” Jameson replied.

Jude wasn’t exactly surprised that Jameson had gotten a detention, it wasn’t uncommon. She was more surprised that he actually went, something was up.

“You never go to your detentions,” she murmured, slowly pressing him to reveal what he was hiding.

He shrugged his shoulders, his face betraying nothing of his feelings, “I felt like it.”

“What’s wrong?” Jude asked softly, touching the top of his arm.

He looked down to her fingers, “what do you mean?”

He tried to play it off as if it meant nothing but she’d known him too long to fall for it.

“There’s something on your mind,” she said quietly, looking into his hurt green eyes.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, some note in his voice a little strained, almost hoarse.

“A few things,” she replied.

“What things?”

Jude raised an eyebrow, “you want the list?”

“Desperately,” he replied, the ghost of a smile tingling on his lips .

“Well, if you must know, your stance is different your weight was more forwards it’s usually slightly more upright, but when something bothers you, you hunch over in the slightest way. You keep fiddling with things, your own hands, the cushion, my hair, the hem of your shirt. Your focus is shifting from anything but your problem and you keep making mindless conversation with me to distract yourself, but it’s not working. You never go to your detentions and suddenly you turn up to one and…” she paused wondering if she should say it aloud, then channelled her inner Xander and recalled his life motto: yolo, “…and your eyes looked sad, hollow almost, it’s hard to explain, they just looked like you were in pain.”

“Very observant of you Judy,” he said, eyes pinned to hers, almost captivated by something. He was trying to keep up his usual banter but it wasn’t getting past her. She knew him too well.

She didn’t tell him not to call her Judy, like he wanted her to. Instead she got straight to the point. No more distractions, no more detours, it was time to face the truth.

“It’s about Nash isn’t it,” she sighed.

“That obvious,” he mumbled, forcing a small chuckle to push down the wave of pain.

“It was an educated guess,” she murmured, trying to make him feel a little better. That was a lie. She could see it on his face but he didn’t have to know that.

“It feels like I’ve lost a piece of myself without him you know,” he admitted, finding the material of the sofa far more interesting than looking directly at Jude for the moment.

“Yeah,” she replied, letting him continue.

“You can’t build a house without a foundation, it’ll collapse,” he sniffed, “and Nash is our foundation.”

“And he still is,” she reassured him, slowly interlocking her fingers into his, “just from a distance now.”

“I don’t know,” he sighed, gripping her tightly in need of the comfort.

“You think if you needed him he wouldn’t be back in a heartbeat?” Jude asked.

“I know he would but I don’t know…” he trailed off, lost in a world of his own thoughts, “…I just hate it when he leaves.”

“He’s going through something,” she said, “he needs time.”

“I know,” Jameson muttered.

“And he doesn’t handle it like you or Gray or Xand,” she continued, “he handles it like this.”

“I wish he didn’t,” he sighed, closing his eyes and tipping his head back.

“Do you?” Jude said softly, “wouldn’t it be more chaotic if he got reckless like you or shut down like Gray, hid it with a smile like Xand,” she sighed, “Nash knows how to manage his feelings, he needs to feel freer, this house hasn’t exactly always been a home to him.”

“You’re right,” he said quietly.

Jameson wasn’t one to admit that easily. Jude knew that. She looked at him tenderly, her eyes speaking volumes to him in the silence. She tried to read his face.

“But you’re still doubting something,” she picked up, almost immediately.

“How can you tell?” he asked, worming his way around the question first before answering it.

“I can just see,” she shrugged.

“I’m…” he trailed off, the words lodged in his throat. He didn’t want to say them out loud, it made them more real.

Jude waited silently until he was ready, giving his hand a gentle squeeze to remind him she was there and she wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m scared he won’t come back,” Jameson finally said.

“He will come back,” Jude replied, her voice strong and sure, “he always comes back.”

“What if he doesn’t this time?” he asked, worry lines rippling across his face.

It almost scared Jude. She wasn’t used to seeing him so vulnerable, so emotional. It had shocked her he hadn’t done something utterly reckless yet, like sky diving or bungee jumping. Usually it would’ve happened by now, but instead he was here, with her, actually talking out his problems. What did that mean?

“You know Nash better than I do,” Jude said slowly, “you know in your heart he’s coming back, just like I do.”

“There’s always that bit of fear in me though, the dreaded ‘what if’ he decides not to,” Jameson replied.

“He wouldn’t abandon you Jamie,” she soothed, the nickname rolling off of her tongue naturally, “he loves you.”

Just like I do, she thought, but the words didn’t dare near her lips.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

After talking to Jameson, Jude had checked on Xander who was also down about Nash leaving. He wasn’t in the mood for much. Seeing Xander so sad made Jude sad too. He wouldn’t even eat a scone which got to Jude the most. Eventually after a lot of coaxing and scone concoctions, she managed to get him to have one but usually it was a given he would.

It was strange. The whole thing. Hawthorne house was deadened without Nash, all the brothers had retreated to themselves and gone quiet. Grayson had disappeared to the music room playing emotional pieces on his violin, Jude felt it was best not to interrupt him in that state. He hadn’t come out in hours and the violin hadn’t stopped once. She wondered if his fingers were bleeding, so left him some food and water and a packet of bandaids outside the door, just in case.

The next morning she set her alarm to wake up early. She had a netball match, first thing. Part of her didn’t want to leave the brothers on their own but she realised she could only do so much when she was at the house anyway.

She figured they might want time to themselves or time to talk with one another about the situation. So she decided to play in her match. After a soothing, long shower, she did her morning skin care before slipping on her netball dress. She walked back into her bedroom standing infront of the mirror to begin on her hair.

***

Jude groaned in frustration, starting the braid again for the fifth time. Why wasn’t it working this morning? Of course it just had to go wrong the day she actually needed it braided out of the way.

“Let me braid it.”

She gasped softly upon seeing Jameson leaning in her doorway, silently watching her.

“What?”

“Let me braid it,” he repeated. She couldn’t detect any hints that he was joking about the prospect.

“How long have you been standing there?” she countered.

“Not long,” Jameson shrugged.

“That’s a little creepy,” she told him, looking back to the mirror as she ran her finger through her wavy hair.

“Well how else am I going to keep you on your toes,” he winked, “now are you going to let me braid your hair?”

“You know how to braid hair?” she folded her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrows.

“I have a lot of free time,” he shrugged.

“You’re surprising me more and more every day Jameson Hawthorne,” she smiled gently.

With a smirk he stepped in towards her back, “well what else am I here for?”

She couldn’t tear her eyes from his reflection in the mirror stood in front of them both even when his breath tickled her neck.

“French or Dutch?”

She spun around to face him suddenly, “are you serious?”

He gave her a confused look.

“You know how to French and Dutch braid hair,” she exclaimed.

He grinned, “it’s like a pattern, a puzzle, something to solve.”

“Okay then,” she thought for a minute, “french.”

“Turn around then Judy,” he said, raising her arm above her head and spinning her around as if she were a ballerina.

“Jude,” she hissed, glaring at the mirror so he could see the reflection.

“Hairbrush,” he said.

“Is that a new nickname?” she batted her eyelashes, “very cute.”

“No, I need the hairbrush,” he rolled his eyes, holding his hand out.

She passed it to him before he gently picked up a piece of hair and began to brush it from bottom up. He took each and every section and handled it with the upmost care, like each stand of hair was made of glass.

“Your hair is really soft,” he commented, after he’d finished brushing it through.

She felt the heat rise in her cheek, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, “you might want to sit down for the actual braiding part.”

She nodded and took a seat on the floor, just below her bed. He sat behind her and slowly began to pick up the first bits of hair needed. Carefully and neatly he twisted the pieces into place. Jude could feel that he was doing it exactly right, adding the right sections at the right times. She’d never thought of a braid a puzzle before, but now she supposed it was. The twists and turns of intricacy, one wrong move and the whole thing would lose its effect.

It was so relaxing for Jude, for someone else to do her hair. It was a nice change from her arms burning and her head aching every morning. Best thing was, Jameson knew exactly what he was doing and he was someone making it comfortable for her head. Usually she’d pull one strand too hard and it’d give her a headache but that hadn’t happened so far.

“Do you have a hair tie?” he asked, once he’d gotten to the bottom.

She passed him the one from around her wrist, before grabbing the ribbons on her team colours.

“Could you tie these in the bottom too?” she asked.

“Of course,” he replied, taking them and putting them into the bottom of the braid, “okay go and see if you like it, I won’t be offended if you don’t.”

She grinned walking into her mirror to admire the plait. It was near on perfect and it looked so much better than her five previous attempts put together. She walked back towards him.

“It’s amazing thank you so much!” she smiled, instinctively wrapping her arms around him to give a grateful hug without actually realising what she was doing.

Though when she did, she didn’t pull away.

“Careful,” he rushed, “we haven’t hair-sprayed it.”

“Is Grayson rubbing off on you?” Jude teased, with a giggle.

“Don’t insult me,” he deadpanned, “I just did your hair.”

“My humblest apologies,” she bowed, mockingly.

“Gratefully accepted,” he nodded at her, grabbing the hairspray bottle, “right, close your eyes.”

She did as he said before he sprayed her hair so it stayed in, setting his masterpiece in stone before she washed it out later.

“Perfect,” he smiled, as she opened her eye again, “you look perfect.”

Her heart nearly stopped beating.

“What?”

“Your hair,” he coughed, “I meant your hair.”

Something sunk, it just plummeted right into her stomach. She felt heavy with disappointment and mentally scolded herself for it.

“Are you only saying that because you can credit yourself?” she played it off as a joke to mask her true feelings.

“Possibly,” Jameson replied, his face slowly breaking out into a grin.

She laughed sideglancing at the clock, “I need to make sure I’ve got everything before I leave, I’ll be right back.”

“Can I come to your game?” he asked suddenly.

She stopped mid step and spun around.

“You want to?” she said.

“Of course I do,” Jameson replied, as if it were an obvious answer.

“Yeah,” she nodded slowly, “sure.”

He’d seen her play before, just not recently. Something about that made Jude nervous but more driven to win, not just for herself and her team but to make Jameson proud too.

“I’ll drive,” he said.

She laughed melodically, “you are such a gentleman.”

“What can I say Judy,” he replied with a wink, stepping closer to her.

“Jude,” she corrected him, stepping in as well.

“Judy,” he smirked back.

“Jude.”

“Judy.”

“You won’t win,” she whispered, fierceness in her eyes.

“Try me,” he murmurs back, mischief in his.

Their faces were so close, that their noses almost touched. His eyes looked down at her lips and flicked back up again. Before she knew it they were both leaning in. Her heart beat loudly in her ears, screaming to be heard. Was this moment really what she thought it was?

“We should go,” Jude cleared her throat, pulling away, “don’t want to be late,”

“Yeah,” Jameson nodded slowly, picking up her bags for her.

And Jude could’ve sworn his cheeks were suddenly a little rosy.

***

Jude cursed herself for pulling away and for the whole journey thought about what could’ve been. However when she got to the venue she had to put all those thoughts aside to play.

The match went well, better than well actually, her team won and her play was excellent. After she’d said goodbye to her teammates she met Jameson who enveloped her into a hug, picking her up and spinning her around, telling her how amazingly she’d played. Jude can’t remember a time where she’d felt more special. He always made her feel like she was the brightest star in an ebony sky.

On the car ride home, the two of them just discussed her game and he let her rant about all the things she felt she could’ve done better before he pointed out some of things she’d done excellently. By the time they got back to Hawthorne House, they’d pretty much dissected the whole game about a thousand times over. But Jude didn’t mind and from the smile of his face, neither did Jameson.

As soon as they got in the two of them went straight to the freezer to grab a well-deserved ice pop.

“Icepop berry for mon chérie,” he winked, with the most awful French accent Jude had ever heard.

She physically cringed, taking it from his hand, “that one was horrible, please never say that again.”

“It sounded better in my head,” he sighed, grabbing a blue raspberry one for himself.

“You butchered that accent,” she snorted.

“Leave me alone,” he complained.

“Hey you’re back! How was your game,” Xander asked walking in.

“Good,” Jude nodded with a smile.

“Good is an understatement,” Jameson scoffed, “Judy played amazingly.”

“It wasn’t that good,” she rolled her eyes, he made her sound like some kind of netball prodigy.

“Xand she was lightning fast,” he explained.

“I bet,” Xander grinned, helping himself to a cola ice pop.

“And her interceptions were killer!” he added.

“Not really,” Jude interjected.

“Passes were legendary,” Jameson just continued.

“He’s over exaggerating,” she rolled her eyes, “surprise, surprise.”

“The best wing attack to ever exist,” he said.

“Okay, that is a stretch now,” she laughed.

“You’re too modest,” he replied, slinging an arm around her shoulders. Her face glowed as she felt an electrical jolt when he touched her, a spark of sorts. She wondered if he’s felt it too, but if he had, he didn’t show it.

“We should celebrate,” Xander announced.

“I agree,” he nodded.

“Oh but would you look at the time!” His brother continued, eyeballing his watch as if he’d never seen it before, “I haven’t blown anything up yet today, off I go.”

Xander practically skipped out of the kitchen door, though just before he turned he snuck Jude a wink to which she almost face palmed right there and then.

“Just us then, I guess,” Jameson said.

“Yeah,” she murmured, eating some more of her ice pop that was slowly melting in her hands. It made her feel like a little girl again.

He looked down at her, staring for a little bit as his lips parted slightly, “want to go somewhere?”

“That depends,” she smiled playfully, “where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” he grinned, “get changed and meet me down here in half an hour.”

“That smirk is saying all the wrong things to me,” she replied, “what are you planning Jameson Hawthorne?”

He shrugged and with a wink, left.

WELLL THATS A WRAP FOR PART ONE… HERE’S THE LINK GO PART 2 💘💖💕😍💖🥰💗 https://www.tumblr.com/littlemissmentallyunstable/770127988151992320/inmyheaddd-hellooo-again-judeee-welcome-to

[flavor-of-the-week-writing]

Coffee and Regret • Lip Gallagher

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x Reader

Tags: Angst, reference to past relationship

Notes: References Season 8 Episode 12. Does anyone even still write for this? I don’t know, I just started rewatching Shameless and this poor baby…

- - - - - - -

“So… you slept with her?” You pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes shut tight as you struggle to adjust to the sudden brightness of the overhead kitchen light. Lip sinks down in his chair, his head held in his hands, elbows propped up on the island.

“Yeah.”

“And she told you she loved you?” You shake your head a little, trying to clear some of the fuzziness from your tired mind.

“Yep.” His fingers tighten in the curly locks. The coffee pot began making the familiar and comforting bubbling sound as the sweet scent of caffeine began filling the kitchen.

“And you said it back?”

“Yep.”

“But you don’t?” You grabbed two mugs out of the cabinet, setting them on the counter with a soft ‘clink’.

- - - - - - -

“No. Maybe. I… I don’t know,” Lip sighed, defeat clear on his features. You gave him a sort of crooked half-smile, the kind you only ever gave him when it was obvious he fucked up but you didn’t wanna say it. You yawned as you filled the mugs with coffee, taking in his exhausted expression.

“Huh…”

You slid a cup of coffee over to him, taking a seat on your own stool next to his and taking a long drink of the bitter-sweet liquid.

“Huh?” Lip repeated, mocking the sound. “This is the part where you say something, I don’t know… helpful?”

“I don’t know what to say,” you defended yourself quickly. “Sounds like a mess.”

“Wow.” Lip raises his upper lip in a kind of snarl, his tone becoming sharper. “Thanks for the observation, captain fuckin’ obvious.”

“Hey, don’t be an asshole to me. I told you not to get involved.” You sit back in your chair, the mug held tightly in your palms.

“Yeah, well…” Lip rolls his eyes, the knuckles of his balled up fist hitting softly on the counter as he thinks. “I got involved, anyway.”

“And that’s not my problem. Sierra fucks up your head and you know that.” You regret the statement as soon as you say it, knowing it’s always been a sensitive topic. Lips eyes snap up to you, narrowing slightly.

“It’s not her fault.”

“Look, I’m not blaming her,” you shrug, folding your arms across your chest. “I’m just saying when you’re around her you lose your shit.”

“I didn’t lose my shit!” His tone is harsh, snapping the words in an icy venom. You recoil slightly with a sarcastic scoff.

“Nah, you’re obviously cool, Lip. That’s why you’re in my kitchen at,” you pause to look at the clock on the microwave, “3:42am.”

Lip deflates even further, instantly regretting his tone. He runs his hand harshly across his face.

“I’m sorry, ok?” His voice softens, sad blue eyes avoiding your gaze. “I just… I didn’t know what to do and it was either come here or a bar.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you picked here.” You hesitate for a moment, sighing finally when you decides to just be honest. “You want my opinion?”

Lip nods - barely, but it’s there.

“If you loved her, like… really, truly loved her… you wouldn’t be questioning it.”

Deep down he knows you’re right. Guilt bubbles up in his chest and he has to swallow it down before he starts crying right there.

“I don’t wanna hurt her.” His voice is quiet. Weak, almost. You slide your stool closer to him, trying to offer some sort of comfort in your presence.

“I know you don’t,” you nod softly and place one hand on his back, the other wrapped around his bicep in a form of side-hug. “But not being honest with her is going to hurt more in the long run.”

Silence hangs thick in the air as he contemplates your words.

“I want a fuckin’ drink,” Lip laughs softly, an almost self-deprecating quality to it. He knows it must sound redundant at this point, how many times he’s shown up in your kitchen, confiding in you just how much he wants to drink and forget his problems.

“How about some creamer in your coffee?”

He snorts softly at the suggestion but nods.

“Yeah. Ok.” Lip pushes his mug closer to you, watching the little splashes of creamer and the swirls of the coffee. He sighs deeply, running his hand roughly through his hair. “Shit was never this complicated with you.”

“Yes it was,” you scoff and raise a brow at him. “You have a terrible memory if you think it wasn’t complicated with us.”

[just-another-author-i-guess]

HEISENBERG × NON BINARY READER HEISENBERG × NON BINARY READER HEISENBERG × NON BINARY READER HEISENBERG × NON BINARY READER HEISENBERG × NON BINARY READER HEISENBERG × NON BINARY READER HEISENBERG × -

OMG HI!!! THIS IS SOOO LONG AGO BUT I FINISHED IT

a/n: I literally made this like a year ago and just procrastinated to post it... so sorry babes :D

Heisenberg x nb!reader boyfriend hcs:

He’s trying to focus more on just being a reliable partner, WHICH HE IS NOT

He’s the type to leave you alone for like d a y s without telling you cause he has an errand from Miranda and then be confused when you’re really worried about him

Before you, he was used to just coming and going as he pleases, he doesn’t really see why that has to change now, I think

But omg,,, he’d bring back like little trinkets or like scrap metal for you or something

Like, don’t be surprised if he straight up brings part of a human back to you cause he thought it was cool

I feel like, he’d be kinda a bad boyfriend though, ngl

Like, he’s really grumpy, and if he’s mad at Miranda he’s just gonna be mad at you too because big boy does not know how to deal his emotions

He’d probably just expect you to stay in the factory at all times too? And if you complain about it, too bad

He’ll be more than willing to entertain you of course *wink wink*

But only AFTER he’s done working

I’m sorry but he’s putting his plans before you always

He’s so emotionally constipated as well? He cares about you of course

He cares a lot about you, but he literally does not know how to say that besides like random comments every now and again

“Hey. You know, I don’t hate having you ‘round here.” And that’s probably the most poetic Karl Heisenberg is able to be

His affection lies in quality time and sharing his plans with you

Every once in a while, small acts of service (Like I said, the trinkets.)

He’s a rough man, yk, he’s definitely the type to annoy and bully you all the time

(Out of love of course)

He’d blow the smoke from one of those cigars he smokes directly into your face just for fun

If you’re shorter than him your head is an armrest

If you’re taller he’ll never stop complaining about it

“Hey sunshine. How’s the weather up there?” And so on

And he’ll always have that smug little grin

He’ll introduce you to the lycans and then get pissed off when they like you more than him

And you tell him it’s because you’re actually nice to them

He’ll get jealous and complain that you’re not as nice to him as you are to them lmfao

I hope for your sake that you can cook,,, cus Karl is definitely not cooking

Even if he tried, I wouldn’t advise you to try eating it

I don’t care, he does NOT wash his hands

He’s kinda stinky and always smells of motor oil and smoke, sometimes a bit like beef jerky strangely enough

If neither of you can cook, you’ll probably just have to go to the duke and get some microwaveable meals if he has any

Does Karl even have a microwave? I’m not sure actually

Anyways I hope you learn to cook then

Okay but I’ve spend so much time just bashing him,, so here’s some nice things about him

He’s oddly cute when he sleeps, yk? 

For such a big, grumpy man, he looks so relaxed and soft

He’ll even let you fall asleep on top of him, he’s very soft idc

And he likes the bit of pressure on top of him I think

He snores, tho ):

He also always wakes up super early to work, and he’s annoyingly chirpy in the morning

It’s all “Rise and shine, sweetheart!” and “Get the hell up, we have work to do!” 

I don’t know, I think he likes being annoying on purpose

But he’s kinda a sweetheart, so it’s okay lol

I mean, he’s definitely very protective

No way he’s going to let you go to Dimitrescu’s house

Even you just going to the market would freak him out honestly

He kinda doubts that you can handle yourself, ngl

No matter how big and strong you are

That’ll never change, he is obsessed with the idea that he’s your protector and he thinks it’s always on him to keep you safe.

He’ll get legitimately really mad if you get hurt, not only at whoever or whatever hurt you, but also at you

Because it stresses him out and you know he feels bad for you

Would probably also feel personally offended if you got sick lol

edit: pookie bear :D

a/n: sry its only a headcannon, but I really like doing them bc they're not so serious yk??? ok anyways, I actually got a whole ass story for him on ao3 if you're interested but I wrote it like 2 years ago when i was 17-18 so its kindaaaaaa.... anyways im gonna edit it before i post it on here as well ):

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Summary:  A curling up using B’s legs as a chair seat

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!Reader

Warnings: smutty but no smut, probably too long and rambly, idiots in love but one of them is emotionally constipated and the other loves them unconditionally

Word Count: 2.0k

Javier grins when he sees you in the kitchen, murmurs some sweet pet name that always makes your face go all hot no matter how much he says it. He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. 

“Javi, you’re all sweaty,” you protest against him, stirring something on the stove and tapping the wooden spoon against the side of the pan before setting it aside. 

There’s the sizzle and pop of hot oil, to him, it sounds like life. The fume hood fan is on, your forehead is a little dewy with sweat. 

Sometimes he thinks you’re only a mirage, that he’s drunk himself into a coma and he’s being tempted with what he could have had if he was better. You do have a larger-than-life quality around you that he can’t ignore. Light sometimes reflects off you in ways that it shouldn’t, in ways that don’t make sense.

If you are a mirage, he’s not letting you go. He presses his face into the crook of your neck and unashamedly smells you, the raw smell of skin and your shampoo and cilantro. 

There’s a leaf of it on your skin and with a chuckle he takes it off and puts it in his mouth, chewing on it lazily for a moment before he bites your neck and makes you protest again, “Ay, Javi!” You push him away, “You’re hot!” 

With a sigh he lets go of you, lets his fingers linger against your waist and trail up the curve of your spine until he reaches the spot he bit. He soothes it over, “Sorry.” 

“Don’t you wanna wash up?” your voice is softer now, his touch telling you something he doesn’t know himself. “Food’ll be ready soon, I made your father’s favourite, so you’d better be quick if you want anything to last for you.” 

He supposes he should go get clean and stay out of your way. 

Javier likes having you to come home to you. He likes that you don’t mind that your…something still lives with his father, that he polishes off glasses of whiskey as if they were tap water. He likes coming home from the fields, his shirt sticking to him with sweat and taking the back door into the kitchen to see you, to be faced with the hazy smell of rice and spices. 

He likes that you usually arrive at Chucho’s place late afternoon with a basket of groceries in your hands that you use to make them dinner. That you keep the fridge well-stocked and the freezer filled with ice cream. 

He likes seeing you in the kitchen he grew up in, the kitchen his own mother used to cook in and had become a graveyard of sorts since her death, the most of the meals his father would make coming out of a can or a microwave. 

Now, you use fresh and colourful produce, fresh meat and fish and cook up a storm each evening, leaving them ample enough for lunch the next day. Now, you leave a bowl of fruit almost overflowing with fresh oranges that you squeeze for them and bring out on the porch as a silent suggestion instead of Javier’s whiskey each night. 

He likes that you sometimes stay the night as well, and you let him take you to his bed and have sex with you although the Texas heat is anything if relentless, no matter that the sun has hidden itself away for the night. 

He’s not blind. He sees the way the town talks about you, hears it himself when he manages to venture that far, sees the lingering glances on his back, the sudden dip in the conversation when he comes in. 

He imagines it’s worse for you. 

They think you’re wasting your time on him. A cook and a maid that doesn’t get paid. 

It’s a harsh assessment of you, but he knows what it looks like from the outside, and he supposes they aren’t wrong about that. 

And he wants to, he’s tried, over and over again to talk some sense into you. At least hint at it in what he hopes is a subliminal way. But you always cotton on to him quick. You’ve grown up with him, of course he’s a tree standing in an open field to you, the words he’s left unsaid lingering under the surface like seam stitching that you run your finger over with a sharp, assessing eye. 

For now, he tries to content himself with what he’s found with you ever since he’s returned from Cali and you showed up at his porch late one evening and Javier pushed you up against the house and kissed you, trailed his hand into your shorts and made you come for the entire darkness to see, as if it were an act of rebellion. You’ve fallen the both of you into a strange pas-de-deux whose music the neither of you know when is going to stop and, for him at least, hopes that it never does. 

Tries to content himself with what he manages to give you and what you’re giving back to him tenfold and trying to ignore that the seagulls of Laredo seem to think he’s getting more out of this than you are. 

He supposes, on a surface level he is. 

But when he comes back in, freed from the clutch of magnifying glass of a sun that hangs high in the sky and sizzles the skin of his neck until it’s a golden brown, and he sees you standing at the stove, sees the meals you cooked up for him and his father in the matching serving dishes, the table set, a pitcher of orange juice in the fridge and portions already set aside for lunch, he finds that you tug at something inside of him that was bleeding long and hard during all his time he spent running and gunning in Colombia. 

He finds that when he’s faced with the thought of losing you, he doesn’t think of the sex or the food or the fruit you patiently wash and peel the stickers off of. A visceral reaction is ripped out of him instead, his lungs tied together, his heart ripped out of his chest and buried, beating, beside his mother’s grave, the ground moving in time with each lub-dup, lub-dup. 

He finds he can actually go back to the canned beans and the whiskey and his father’s disapproving glare. As long as you stayed in his life and let him take you sometimes to go and see late-night showings of old black-and-white movies at the cinema where it’s just you two and Javier’s free to kiss you as much as he likes. 

All Javier wants to know, that this is your choice. He’s not sure he’ll ever come to truly understand why you do it, but he’s depraved and starving enough to keep you so long as you want to stay yourself. 

His hair already dried, his stomach full, he finds himself lost in thought again, sitting on the porch where this had all started in the first place. 

You were wearing a dress tonight. Some light, airy thing, made out of cotton. Javier thinks you look gorgeous in it, but he always thinks that of everything you wear and you’ve stopped believing him when he tells it to you so now he has to spend each one carefully, pick and choose in hopes of making you see what he sees. 

He wants to selfishly ask you to have sex with him today. He misses the way your skin springs and folds against his touch, the humidity that lies wet on it and makes it easier to grip at your body. 

He wants to lick off the sweat that will grow on your chest, to bite down into your harsh skin just before he draws blood so he can revel in the life of you. 

He decides he’ll only ask it of you if you ask it of him first. 

The front door creaks open and shut, the soft pad of your footsteps follow. 

You run your hand down the side of his head and lift your chin to meet your eyes. Javier thinks you’re about to say something soul-altering from the darkness that lays in your gaze but you only say, “Scooch.” 

With a few short adjustments, you’re in his lap now, your knees to your chest, his arms wrapped around you. When you press your head against his chest and underneath his chin, your hair rubs against his skin. 

There’s his father’s chair that you could have taken instead, but he’s happy you chose his body. 

“Thanks for dinner,” he says quietly. If he squints, he thinks he can see the words hang in front of him like moths, see them fly over to the light above the door and flutter nervously around it.

“Don’t mention it.” 

His hands drift over your body, trail over your thighs and chest and rest at your waist. He tilts your head so he can press his mouth against your neck and kiss your skin. He wants to inhale you like a cigarette. There’s a strange desire that sits in his lower belly that spreads over to his chest and arms. 

“You look really pretty in this dress.” 

From the way you stiffen and relax again it’s clear you don’t believe him and want to call him on his supposed lies. “Thanks.” 

He keeps touching you, running up the side of your waist and cupping your jaw. Javier wants to bite you again but he’s not sure if you’d like that, not after what he did in the kitchen. He holds back a groan as he thinks of you in his bed, of the sheen of sex and lust that will lay on your skin after he’s done with you. 

With a hard press of his eyelids, he pushes the thoughts away from him. 

“They’re showing Casablanca this week.” 

He thinks of you in the low light of the cinema, funny little accents coming in from the screen. He thinks of the glow of your eyes and soft plush of your lips against his own. He’s already decided he’s going to buy you an overpriced bag of popcorn and an even bigger bag of cotton candy that you’ll snack on on the car ride back and feed him some too. 

“Let’s go.” Maybe he’ll press his fingers against your core and make you come, make you stifle your whimpers against his neck. But he also doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable for the ride back and thinks better of it. 

You sit up in his lap and look at him with a soft gaze he doesn’t know what to make of. Your finger finds a path down his lips and you keep your eyes in his like rain and puddles. 

Then you’re kissing him. They’re fireflies of kisses, and patter against his lips, never sitting still long enough to satiate him. You’re riling him up purposefully. 

“Will you fuck me tonight?” Your voice is smoky, the fog weighted and heavier than normal cigarette smoke. 

His fingers brush against your temple and he marvels at the sight of his skin against yours, “Would you like me to fuck you?” You could ask for a mountain and Javier would bring it to you rock-by-rock at your feet. 

“Mmhm,” you hum. It curls around his neck like a snake, “Real good. Hard and deep.” 

Sometimes, he thinks maybe this is all just good sex for you. But sometimes, all the time, there’s something that’s pressed into your skin and eyes that protests against that thought insistently, “I can do that.” 

You smile happily and nudge your nose down the column of his neck, “And will you eat me out? Do that thing with your tongue I like so much?” 

His hands drift down to your ass, and he holds onto it possessively. Inside, he hears his father step away to his room, his good night spilling out from the open window. “Yeah, baby, I can do that too.” 

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here. Summer Drabbles here.

[host-hubliminal]

TEST_LOG_RECORDS. SELECT FROM THE FOLLOWING TEST LOGS. ||PAGE 4 OF 20.|| TEST1: v18.07 TEST1: v18.08 TEST1: v18.09 TEST1: v18.10 TEST1.12: v20.17 TEST1.12: v20.18 TEST1.9: v5.01 > TEST2: v1.05 TEST2.5: v0.1 <<=[BACK]--[NEXT]=>> ———————————— TEST2: v1.05 SELECTED. TYPE [C] TO CONFIRM or [D] TO DENY SELECTION. > C WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO WITH THIS SELECTION? [Data_Summary] > Full_Record_Transcription [Delete_Test_Record] ———————————— PLAYING_TEST_RECORD_TRANSCRIPTION. START_TEST2: v1.05 Loading…………… ———————————— Chatroom 5C, Wing 8: Instance 12 Dated: January 28th, 2024 [Addendum; Names have been shortened and/or changed to keep identities hidden.] ML has opened the chatroom. ML added XG to the chat. ML added TT to the chat. ML added PhL to the chat. ML added UY to the chat. XG: ML, You do know that you don’t have to add me in every single chat every time you make a new chatroom, right? ML: hush! I don’t want a repeat of the wire incident. XG: Fine. I will observe then, I guess. You all really need to get another person for security besides just me you know. UY: I haven’t had a single applicant of quality come in for weeks besides you, XG. XG: I would say otherwise but you run the place. TT: can we please get on with the test? if they’re down for any longer than 15 minutes we might not be able to revive them at all, and they’re crucial for further testing. ———————————— STARTING>>System_H-RA. System_H-RA-STARTED! STARTING>>System_RS. INPUT_TARGET_ID_TO-CONTINUE: … TARGET_ID: Host-1.1 System_RS-STARTED! RESPAWN-COMMENCING……… - - - - - Unfamiliar audio detected in AREA_C43_RSAR. Recording engaged. Recorded audio transcription from Host Respawn Anchor; [Hum of Host Respawn Anchor] [Incoming Teleportation sound muffled from being inside Anchor.] Host 1.1: [Unintelligible] HELLO? Hellooo? [Sounds of Host 1.1 banging on metal.] - - - - - ———————————— PhL: thank god… UY: Good. The technology Dr.[REDACTED] has been improved in quality. Yet we have yet to receive the actual notification that the Host Respawn Function has actually succeeded. PhL: I-I mean- it still works- just because the bells and whistles aren’t- TT: PhL, don’t. PhL: o-okay, XG: No, PhL has a point. This didn’t result in a splatter on the wall. In fact, I don’t think it even microwaved them in the slightest. TT: could you be any less graphic? XG: They were a plate of noodles! TT: he was a person for pete’s sake! Does that mean ANYTHING to you? XG: In my defense, it was kind of funny. TT: … TT: whatever, let’s just. get on with it ———————————— - - - - - [Metal door to Host Respawn Anchor opens. Host 1.1’s footsteps can be heard as they step out.] [Intercom buzzes on.] ML: Welcome! Sorry for that grizzly bit there, we just needed you to test out our Respawn System for you guys. Host 1.1: WAIT SO YOU SAW THAT- THAT THING?? AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO DO ANYTHING?? ML: Buddy, it is your fault that you upset the fauna naturally found within Liminal Space. Host 1.1: YOU DIDN’T EVEN TELL US ANYTHING ELSE WAS IN HERE! YOU TOLD US JACK! Where- how do I find that other guy again? ML: Host 1.2? Uhhhhh I think he’s still on the same level as you- try heading east? Host 1.1: Thanks. I guess. ML: You’re welcome! - - - - - TEST2: v1.05_CONCLUDED. RECORDING ENDED.

[proceduralpassion]

Torments

(gif by me, excuse the terrible quality lol)

A/N: I wrote this the night of 10x11 and it's been sitting, collecting unedited cob webs ever since. I finally spruced it up and made it presentable, so here ya go! Kev deserves someone to hold him and tell it's all gonna be okay 🥺

Pairing: Kevin Atwater x Wife!Reader

WC: ~1k

Warning(s): angsty af, discussions of dysfunctional familial relationships

The house was quiet when he walked in. There was light coming from upstairs but he leaned his back against the front door and stood in the darkness. The mute shadows that surrounded him mirrored the hollow feeling in his chest. There were unfinished emotions resting in his spirit and he sighed a heavy breath, wondering if he should unleash them from his depths or stuff them back down, much like he did with a lot of his torments.

It was already late when he left the precinct, so late that he knew that he missed dinner, but his mind was already set on stopping by his building to make sure there was an adequate unit for his father. He’d call and hire someone in the morning to clean it up and put some furniture in it, but he couldn’t bear to go to sleep tonight without verifying that his father would have somewhere safe to go, once he got out of the halfway house. 

He’s not sure how long he stood there, with his head against the door, but it lifts upright when he hears footsteps descending the stairs.

“Kev?” Your voice eked out carefully.

“Yeah, it’s me, baby.”

He met you at the last step and you both wrapped your arms around each other tightly. You feel that his weight is heavier tonight and know that today wasn’t a good day. Instead of acknowledging it, you guide him into the kitchen, “I left your food in the microwave, let me heat it up.”

He follows you silently, his head still leaned on your shoulder as he walks behind you with his hands on your hips. You lean into his embrace as the timer counts down until the egg rolls and fried rice are ready. Still, no words are spoken. You say nothing as his arms wrap tighter around you. 

This is how it went with the two of you. He was a proud man and it wasn’t always easy for him to spill his emotions out to you. You were dogged in your pursuit for the truth, in your mission to heal his afflictions the way he always did for you, without question. There was a silent compromise in the way that neither of you spoke. Time was a pact, the equalizer that told him that you wouldn’t push and that he wouldn’t suppress.

You two sat at the breakfast table in the kitchen, ankles linking against each other under the table. 

Always touching, the two of you.

He offered his plate to share, but you only took one bite out of an egg roll before shifting the dish back in front of him. Your ring shines against the glint of the light above and your eyes can’t help but jump to his. Like you did all the thousands of other times you saw that golden piece of metal surrounding his finger, you smile and your heart flutters. He catches the simper and his shoulders shake in a hushed chuckle.

“I’m sorry, that ring will always be the sexiest thing you will ever wear,” you always say.

“Even sexier than the chain?” 

“Damn. Can’t forget about the chain.”

You two don’t actually say the words aloud like you usually do, but the back and forth is wordlessly exchanged through your eyes. A language that only two people in the universe will ever be fluent in. 

When he finishes his plate, you go to grab it, but he swipes it away before you can and rises to head to the dishwasher. He loads the plate and fork and then detours to the fridge to grab something out of it.

He hands you your half-eaten dark chocolate bar and sits. You offer it, he leans over to only one bite out of it before pushing it back into your hand. And so, now you’re the one who eats quietly because you know that your husband is ready to talk, but still needs a moment to gather his thoughts.

You finish your chocolate, enjoying the crunch of almond in the last morsel and Kevin reaches for your hand.

“I got him a place to stay in the building.”

You nodded, not saying anything, allowing him the space to release whatever he's holding. 

“I don’t know… I’m just still so… angry. I’m happy he’s out. He’s safe. But he had all this time to reach out. To make amends. And the best he can come up with for an excuse is his pride?”

His voice still creaked with emotion, much like before, when he let his dad have it at the precinct. He thinks about Jordan and Vinessa and even at his most frustrated, he couldn’t bear to think of not showing up for them whenever they needed. It may not have been fair to him, raising two kids when he was barely an adult himself, but he still couldn’t even fathom letting them down in any way. So how could the man that sired three children allow anything to hold him back from rushing back to them, from picking up the pieces of a long broken family? 

Your second hand reaches around to wrap around his and you lean closer to him, allowing your foreheads to rest on each other’s.

“I feel like I can’t even be too mad at him. Because I don’t know what he went through. What he had to get through to survive all those years on the inside… Maybe he wouldn’t have made it if he was too weighed down by thoughts of us.”

You speak for the first time.

“You just hate that it was you and the kids that were weighing him down.”

With glassiness in his eyes, he nods. 

You rise from your seat and rest in his lap, nestling his head against your chest, caressing the back of his neck. He heaves a deep breath and bundles closer into you. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. 

You hold him tight as his shoulders shake, allowing him to find solace in your embrace. A safe haven so he can mourn for the time lost. And forgive for what wasn’t his fault.

As always, like and reblog if you enjoyed. Thanks for the love 💖

Tagging: @darqchilddaydreamz @ginghampearlsnsweettea @jackburtonsays @justahopelessssromantic

[nightswithkookmin]

"We gotta throw artists in Jail for making these diabolical songs"

Cool. No. It's cool. I'm not mad. I just want you to be thrown into the adjoining cells with them just for being brazenly dumb. You shouldn't wear your ignorance and artistic ineptitude on your sleeve so bravely. Like I'm actually embarrassed for you.

If you know nothing about something JUST SHUT UP.

You're gonna sit there and dissect a highly artistic piece like this with your untrained ears and your 1.5 gigabyte brain capacity. Cool.

Explain Mozart to me then bitch. Bet Beethoven makes your head spin. Can't take you out to a fancy restaurant cos your tongue stuck under their boots huh. Bootlicker. Why don't you lick these clean

And for heavens sakes

Leave 👏🏾the👏🏾 review 👏🏾to 👏🏾the👏🏾 experts👏🏾

Hmm? How about we do that instead?

What credentials do you have?

WHAT QUALIFIES YOU TO DETERMINE THE QUALITY OF A MUSICAL PIECE OF THIS NATURE WHEN YOU CAN'T EVEN TELL A WHISTLE FROM A FART. ARE YOU KIDDING ME!

Just because you own a free channel on a free platform don't suddenly make you the academy. Get over yourself and please THINK BEFORE YOU SPEAK. You're just spewing out gibberish and you sound dumb as fuck.

Untrain your ears. Stop eating up microwaved over the counter music and I promise you you will develop a richer taste and palate for music. I PROMISE YOU.

IF ALL YOU KNOW IS JIMIN'S ANGELIC VOICE AND ALL YOU EXPECT FROM HIM IS YET ANOTHER FILTER OR PROMISE EVERY SINGLE TIME HE RELEASES A NEW SONG GET A NEW HOBBY. YOU ARE DONE. WORN OUT AND STRESSED.

HE IS AN ARTIST NOT A PARROT

HE MAKES ART WITH HIS VOICE FOR A LIVING

AND HE'S NOT IN FOR A QUICK MONEY GRAB EITHER.

But you can't tell cos you're used to being USED AND MILKED BY TALENTLESS FAVES.

I can see how this level of artistry can be intimidating for some people especially the inexperienced members of the audience.

The Light is always too bright for those in the shadows.

Yall been comfortable listening to crap but don't worry Park Jimin is going to change that. He is baptizing yall by fire and raising the standard for what good music actually is. HE IS MAKING MUSIC GREAT AGAIN.

The era of cheap repetitive music vomited out for easy money in KPOP IS OVER. TALENT IS TAKING OVER.

YOU MIGHT NEED A DEGREE TO UNDERSTAND KPOP FROM NOW ON. SORRY NOT SORRY.

Catch up with him. Ain't nobody got time to baby sit your slow ass. You dumb mcdummy.

Music is Poetry and Poetry appreciation is a skill in and of itself.

Hone that skill at least bitch

[satansapostle6]

X

Josh Futturman has always had a crush on his beautiful coworker, the sharp, sexy scientist he thought he could only dream of talking to.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

Part Three

Part Four: HR Violations

Never in a million years did Josh Futturman imagine that he’d have someone to flirt and exchange witty banter with at work, let alone that it would be Dr. Johansson. He knew he wasn’t delusional, because even Ray was starting to pick up on it.

It all started in one of the break rooms, when Josh was asked to unclog a toilet in the bathroom nearby. Ray had been minding his business and heating up his lunch in the microwave, when Josh came into the room to wash up after finishing the job. Coincidentally, Brynne Johansson also entered the room, in need of a cup of coffee, as well as to just shamelessly mess with Josh.

It was becoming a fun little game for her, saying and doing all the right things to get Josh all hot and bothered at work. Ray gave Brynne a polite smile as she entered the room, eating his ramen in peace.

“Dr. Johansson,” he greeted her.

She just smiled back as she walked toward the coffee machine, intentionally taking a while to examine it before making her move.

“Josh, do you think you could take a look at this for me?” she asked. “I can’t seem to get it to work.”

This was obviously a lie. Ray shot his friend a curious look.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Josh obliged, glancing nervously at Ray.

He stood beside Brynne, half pretending to take a look at the coffee machine, half genuinely wondering if there was something wrong.

“It doesn’t seem to be heating up,” she said as she fiddled aimlessly with the filter.

“Oh, I see what you’re saying,” Josh lied. playing along as best as he could.

“Yeah… Do you know how to fix it?”

“I think so… I think if you just… flip this, it’ll start heating up again,” he improvised completely. “There. Try it again?”

Brynne turned on the coffee machine like normal, brewing a fresh pot.

“Oh, great, it’s working again,” she bullshitted. “Thanks, Josh, you know I like it hot.”

Josh nearly choked on pure oxygen as she gave him a casual workplace smile, as if nothing had happened, walking out of the break room with a hot cup of coffee as her heels tapped against the floor. Josh’s eyes widened as he turned to Ray, who was equally in shock. He couldn’t deny, Brynne was the first person to ever make him feel like he had something to brag about.

“What the hell?!” he demanded.

“Right?!” Josh exclaimed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to telling you!”

“Sorry, man, you really gotta see it to believe it,” Ray laughed.

“What do I do?!” Josh panicked. “She’s really hot, and I think she’s flirting with me—”

“Alright, now that I’ve actually seen it happen, it’s not a ‘think’ anymore, it’s a ‘know’,” Ray assured him.

“So, what do I do?” he asked hopelessly.

“I don’t know that there’s anything you can do,” Ray admitted, “Just… See if it goes anywhere, I guess.”

“Okay,” Josh breathed, trying to calm himself down, “Okay…”

“Man, that woman is wild.”

*****

“Hey, Elias,” Josh smiled on his way to the elevator as he saw Dr. Kronish walking through the hall.

“Good afternoon, Josh,” the man said pleasantly. “How are you today?”

“Living the dream,” Josh said humorously, fully aware that he was a janitor.

At least now he was able to go home. Upon entering his parents’ house, Josh found that his parents were both in the living room, enjoying their ‘quality time’ together.

“Joshy!” his mother exclaimed happily.

“Welcome home, buddy boo!” his father beamed.

Josh swallowed his embarrassment despite the three of them currently being alone, saying hello to them as he entered the house.

“How was work today?” his father asked him.

“Uh, pretty good,” Josh intentionally left out any specifics or details.

“What did you do today?” his mother inquired. “Come sit with us, I wanna hear all about it.”

Josh grimaced uncomfortably, not even sure what to say as he tentatively sat down with his parents, who has both been reading.

“Uh, the usual, just… cleaning up shits, and mopping floors,” he offered flatly.

Both of his parents chuckled as they listened to him.

“How’s Ray doing?” Gabe Futturman asked kindly.

“Uh, he’s good,” Josh responded, “Yeah, he’s pretty good…”

“Did you talk to anyone else today?” Diane Futturman asked.

Josh felt this was more of an interrogation than a conversation.

“Uh, I saw Dr. Kronish earlier. In the hall,” he said boringly.

“Oh, that’s nice,” his father remarked.

“Ooh, what about that Dr. Johansson you’ve always told us about?” his mother chimed in. “Talk to her at all?”

Josh could’ve sworn his entire face went pale.

“Uh… Yeah. Yeah, we talk sometimes, in passing…”

“Really?!” his mother gasped.

“You never told us you talked to her!” his father exclaimed.

Josh frowned, just then realizing how pathetic the entire conversation made him sound.

“Uh, yeah… Her name’s Brynne. We talk sometimes,” he thought, “Occasionally…”

“Oh, that’s so exciting!” Diane squealed. “You should ask her out! Oh, that would be perfect!”

“Mom, I’m… I’m not asking her out,” Josh frowned.

“But why not?” she questioned. “You know everything about her!”

“Yeah! You know everything she likes, and you know how to make her smile,” his father told him.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m not asking her out,” he pointed out.

“What do you mean, Joshy?” Gabe asked regretfully.

“I mean… She’s a scientist. The head of the research department,” he reminded himself. “Women like that don’t tend to go out with janitors.”

“But what if he’s a sweet, handsome, funny janitor like our Joshy?” she reasoned optimistically.

Josh just sighed, finding the topic more depressing than anything else.

*****

Although Josh got butterflies in his stomach like a teenage girl every time he saw Brynne at work, a part of him also felt sad and rejected every time he saw her, even if she hadn’t even done so yet. As much as he was in awe of how she flirted with him from time to time, he also knew that, more likely than not, he was probably just a source of entertainment for her.

There was no way Dr. Brynne Johansson, the tall, sexy powerhouse, wanted to go out with, or even hook up with, the janitor. There was just no way. His whole life, Josh always had to be realistic when it came to girls; if there was one thing he learned from middle school, it was that you never wanted to be the nerd who asked out the popular girl. And Brynne Johansson was definitely the popular girl at Kronish Labs.

Everyone looked at her like she was an angel walking amongst humans; male, female, gay, straight… It didn’t matter. There was something just unifying about her perfection. Josh was even ready to completely give up on the idea of actually having any sort of shot with Brynne outside of their usual banter, until one afternoon when they both happened to be alone in the elevator together.

Josh tried his best not to blush as she stood beside him, absentmindedly looking at her watch. She was wearing a stunning cream-colored dress that complimented her hair, and he couldn’t help but notice. He also noticed her perfume, which he could only describe as smelling like some sort of love spell.

“Hey, Josh,” Brynne turned to him.

“Hey,” he smiled.

“You smell nice,” she said softly.

His eyes almost bulged out of his head as he realized he’d decided to try out a new cologne to see if she’d like it. Apparently, she did.

“Tha—Thank you,” he nodded, still caught off guard.

“Mhmm.”

She smiled as she got off on her floor as the elevator stopped. Josh waited for the metal doors to close completely before celebrating.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, extremely proud of himself. “Whoo!”

It was safe to say, his confidence was back. He wasn’t sure what this meant, exactly, but he was willing to find out.

-

Part Five

Part Six

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

Ive been going through a minor depressive episode and I fully lost my appetite and any interest in eating, as a result I’ve not been eating enough for several weeks if not longer, but getting worse the past few weeks. As a result I’ve lost a bit of weight. I know I need to eat so I’m making myself eat every day and I’m trying to get out of it, but it’s hard because now that I’ve lost a little weight I like my body so much more and it’s hard to shake the thought that if I keep going I don’t have to gain weight. I know not to follow these thoughts because even eating barely enough takes a toll on your body (I’ve been there) but it’s hard. I don’t know I feel like I’ve been liking my body so much more and I’m gonna have to gain weight and hate it again. I guess I’m just wondering if there’s anything I can tell myself to feel better other than just “you have to eat”

Hmm. I'm sorry to hear you've been struggling with depression and have lost pleasure in food. That's a really tough thing to work through.

I wonder if you could try to take the focus off your body for a bit? Maybe try thinking of it more in terms of mental health. So instead of thinking "I need to gain weight" or even trying to stop yourself from thinking "I kinda want to lose more weight" just think about what your body and mind need to feel better.

So like...maybe try to find pleasure in food and eating. I know that's really hard right now, but something you could try could be doing things each day to live purposefully while you eat. Take a nice walk and get yourself an ice cream, and be out in the community just noticing things and trying to enjoy the taste of your ice cream and the feeling of just moving your body and having a lil walk. Or sitting out in the sun eating a nice cold bowl of fruit. Prepping yourself some easy comfort food can help, something that doesn't take high effort to make and is enjoyable to consume. These can be things like a PBJ sandwich, mac and cheese, a bowl of pasta, microwave soup. Depression can make it hard to really get yourself together and prepare a high-quality meal, so it's okay to rely on the easy stuff if it helps you get a little food in. When you do this and eat it, don't think "I'm doing this to gain weight." Eat what you're able while thinking "I'm doing this to nourish my body. My body deserves care even when I don't feel so good."

If there are times when you are so absofuckinglutely depressed that you cannot manage to organize and throw together a PBJ, it's okay to just eat whatever snack food you can manage that's immediately available. This is not ideal but it is better for your body than starving. If you must do this, tell yourself "I'm doing this to support my body. My body deserves better than starving. I deserve better than to deal with the long-term health problems of starvation." It's all in how you talk to yourself, even in the worst moments. If you are prone to this level of depression, it's okay to keep these snack foods available just to support your ability to get something into your body, anything at all. It's okay to accommodate yourself while you're struggling. You're allowed to love yourself that much even at your worst.

When you have a little bit of energy, meal-prepping in bulk might be able to help you, but if you're not at the stage where you can put that level of effort into your food right now, that's okay - it's just a suggestion. Do what you can.

But really it's about taking the moment to try and enjoy things even when your depression is trying really hard to take that enjoyment from you. So sitting down with some food and a comfort show and taking some time to really enjoy it, taking a walk and getting yourself a treat while you're out, going with somebody to a preferred restaurant and trying to enjoy what's on the menu - these are all things that depression will try to take away from you because it's hard to enjoy them the way you would when you're not depressed. It's important to try to fight to keep those moments of small personal joy in your life if you can.

In addition to that, try doing this in areas that are not related to eating, too! Take 5-10 minutes to try and engage in a non-scrolling hobby, even if that 5-10 minutes is all you can manage. Take a few minutes to message with a friend or family member. Do a mental health practice such as meditation or journaling. While doing these things, tell yourself that you're doing them to nourish your body and soul because you deserve to be well.

Depression wants you to get worse. Depression wants you to be listless and disconnected from your hobbies. Depression wants you to be immobilized. Depression wants you to feel ambivalent about or even negatively about your body, and about your mind and soul. Depression wants you to be so frustrated with the lack of pleasure in your hobbies that you just stop trying to engage them altogether. Depression wants you to feel too tired to have a proper conversation with the people you care about, so you become isolated. Depression wants you to engage in self-harmful behaviors and feel worse about yourself. These are all things that will make depression stronger, so where you are able to fight them, it's important to try. So try and think, "how can I engage myself to feel better and feel like I'm worth fighting for?"

Best of luck, anon.

[16magnolias]

9, 20, 40 for Lucía 😊

Thanks for the asks

9 Do you have a faceclaim / voiceclaim for your OC?

I confess I am terrible with actors and actresses and don't really know enough of any of them to try and match them up with OCs. Based on a quick google search and the soft quality of voice I imagine Lucía to have, maybe Salma Hayek or Sarah Ramírez for  Lucía's voice. I'm sorry I don't have a good answer for you 😥

20 If they came from their world to ours (if not already in our’s) how would they react? What would they do?

If Lucía were to come to our world - which mainly means 2023/modern times - she'd probably walk around in shock for a good day or two before even being coherent enough to ask questions, and then she'd be in absolute awe and wonder at modern technology - stovetops and electric ovens and microwaves and smartphones and music streaming and video calls and oh, what she wouldn't give to have a recording of her mother 😭

...and then would come the questions about how and how it works and eventually she would make it to the history questions and....keeping this light but Lucía would weep at a lot of it. Weep with sorrow for all that's been lost and weep with bittersweet gratitude at how hard people have worked to help and heal and save.

And after going through the 5 stages of grief and coming to grips with all that's happened in the world, she would explore more of it and learn - you can PUBLISH things DIGITALLY?!?!  Thousands and thousands of books available at your fingertips, and you can just - read them? And write them? There are sites where people write stories about things they love and expand on the stories they already know and love and share them and people talk about them and she can talk to people all over the world about her favorite books?!?! For real life?!

...I feel like Lucía would write fanfiction and she'd be darn good at it but she'd also be extremely shy about interacting with anyone online.

40 Your character is getting ready for a night out. Where are they going? What do they wear? Who will they be with?

Oooh fun!

Who she's going with: Bruno

Where she's going: San Cristobál, to see a double feature playing 2 Colombian films: Antonia Santos, a 1944 drama about María Antonia Santos Plata, a peasant, Colombian rebel leader, and heroine; and Bambucos y Corazones, a 1945 musical comedy. (Based solely on limited google research.)

What she's wearing: Her green dress (the simple, off-the-shoulder olive green one with yellow-gold accents along the edges of the ruffles, waist, and hem) and a pair of comfortable alpargatas. Her hair is braided and wound into a bun at the back of her head and she's probably wearing her only pair of earrings - simple gold studs.

[owlsandwich]

The Mechanics of Magic

Read along with me :D - Chapter 13

Chapter 1 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

This chapter is affectionately known by me as "Roy eats pizza".

The novelty of being left to his own devices in the safe house had worn off surprisingly quickly. Roy flicked through the television channels, but apparently none of the programmes had changed in the last ten minutes. He supposed he should be grateful that there even was a television; the place seemed barely used, and Oliver didn’t seem the type to lounge around watching box sets. The lack of a games console hadn’t shocked him in the slightest.

Roy grabbed a slice of last night’s pizza from the box on the table, jolting it with a heating spell before taking a bite. He didn’t remember seeing a microwave in the kitchen when hunting for coffee that—morning — he’d finally found a pot of instant, a month out of date, behind around eight varieties of loose-leaf tea — and anyway, he didn’t feel like getting up off the couch. 

Switching off the television, Roy picked up the book he’d retrieved from the second bedroom; the only volume he’d been able to find that wasn’t a damn textbook. Before he could get much beyond the first paragraph, there came the sound of a slamming door and footsteps in the stairwell.

He was no longer alone.

With a burst of vigour he didn’t know he possessed, he chucked the book onto the coffee table and flung himself down behind the sofa.

“What the hell happened here?” 

The voice was familiar, and Roy poked his head out. As he thought, it was the man who had been here before; Matthew, if he remembered correctly. Dark eyes matched the straight black hair that fell around his sharp features, and though Matthew’s build was slim, Roy easily sensed the powerful magic he exuded. To his relief, Oliver also stood in the doorway behind him.

“Hey! You actually came back,” Roy said, standing up. Matthew glared at him immediately, but Oliver was scanning the apartment, having gone rather pale.

“W—what…?” Oliver stammered weakly. Under other circumstances, Roy would have enjoyed being the one to shake his cool composure, but Matthew’s frown was ruining the moment. “What happened here? How did you make such a mess? And what are you wearing?!”

Oliver had finally turned to him and Roy remembered the grey dressing gown he was still sporting over his clothes. 

“Ah, hope you don’t mind. I found this in the bedroom.” Roy jerked a thumb towards the door beside the kitchen. “Ended up just crashing on the couch again.” As on the first night, he had avoided using his designated bedroom, even after Oliver’s insistence. Somehow, it made the experience easier. 

“I can see that...” Oliver still hadn’t moved, seemingly transfixed by the room.

“I couldn’t get the wine out of the collar, though, sorry.” Roy rubbed guiltily at a red splatter blemishing the fluffy material. “I thought you’d have spelled it stain proof. Everything else in your wardrobe is.”

“You spilled wine on my— What do you mean ‘everything else in my wardrobe’?” Oliver did not look happy. “What else have you opened?”

“What was I supposed to do?” Roy shrugged off the dressing gown, missing its warmth as soon as he did so. Oliver took it from him wordlessly. “You didn’t exactly tell me when you’d be back. I got bored. Nathaniel’s a hilarious name for a fake ID, by the way,” Roy snorted. “Unless that’s your actual name. Erm, in which case… cool name, mate.” 

Making fun of the people protecting him from Felix Marek might not be the best idea, and, given the quality of the paperwork he had found in that spell-locked draw, Oliver and Matthew were clearly very professional when going about any illegal activities. 

Oliver shook his head slowly. “That drawer was magic locked. How did you—”

“Oh, don’t worry! I wasn’t actually looking for secret documents and I put them all back. I was looking for money.” This explanation, he realised, probably wasn’t helping his case. “Since, you know, I’m only here because I’m helping you guys out, and I don’t have any cash on me. I found some, by the way. In the third drawer. That’s how I got the pizza.”

“Wait, you got pizza delivered? To a safe house?” Matthew had been silent until now, listening to Roy’s explanation with an expression of vague disbelief. 

Roy rolled his eyes. “You told me not to leave! Anyway, I paid in cash. I’m not an idiot.”

“Could have fooled me...” Matthew mumbled, sitting down in the armchair furthest from where Roy stood. “How did you even know the address?”

“I saw it on the way in.” Roy shrugged. The street name and number on the door had been easy enough to remember. He wasn’t sure if knowing the phone number of the takeaway by heart too was something to be proud or ashamed of. 

“It just feels softer without the protective spells,” Oliver muttered to himself, running a hand over his stained dressing gown dejectedly. 

Roy hopped back onto the couch and reached for his coffee mug, then realised he’d grabbed the one with wine dregs and put it back down. 

“Maybe we should talk about why we’re here?” Matthew directed his words at Oliver, who seemed to shake himself out of his daze.

“Yes... apologies. You’re right.” Folding the dressing gown, Oliver hung it over the back of a dining chair and settled at the far end of the sofa.

Matthew leaned forward in the armchair, clasping his hands in front of him. “Roy, isn’t it? We need to know if you can get into the palace.”

Roy’s eyes went wide. “Hey, look, I’m not getting involved in anything there. I’ve got enough people after me as it is!” Felix Marek was bad enough; if these guys were planning some sort of palace heist then they’d have Morgan after them. Roy doubted Oliver’s promise of protection would hold up under those circumstances, no matter how competent the guy seemed. He folded his arms across his chest. “I can’t help you, anyway. Marek is one thing, but what makes you think I could break into the palace?”

“You recognised the lock installed at Felix Marek’s home and called it a palace lock,” Oliver explained. “We might be wrong, but we concluded that you would only know the palace used that type of spell if you had encountered it there.”

Yeah, he could see how they had figured that. Damn his stupid mouth. “Well, even so. I can’t help you. Sorry, mate.”

“Please. This is important,” Matthew interjected. He was rubbing his hands together, leaning so far forward that Roy thought he might fall from the chair. “If you know a way in, you need to tell me.”

“Makes a change, hearing a ‘please’ from you,” Roy shot back. He hadn’t so quickly forgotten the interrogation he had been subjected to at their last encounter.

“Listen, I’m sorry for how I behaved last time. I really do need your help.” The desperation in Matthew’s voice was palpable. “It’s— The Palace has my son. I need to get him and his friend out.” He tilted his head down into his open palms, as though the words were too much to face.

So that was why Matthew had changed his tune, though picturing him as a father was jarring. Whatever his son had done, it must have been bad. Despite his own feelings about Morgan, Roy hadn’t ever heard of the Palace kidnapping people for no reason.

“It’s a misunderstanding,” Oliver said, taking over. “He isn’t a criminal, he’s only eighteen—”

“Eighteen’s old enough to be a criminal, trust me.”

“He’s not.” Oliver’s voice was firm. “I can’t go into detail, but he’s in terrible danger there, through no fault of his own. I understand I’ve asked a lot of you already, but all we need is knowledge. Is there a way in?”

“Look, I feel for you, I really do.” Roy wasn’t lying; this discussion was shaking him more than he wanted to admit. “I don’t know how to get into the palace. Genuinely. I haven’t been there in years.”

“The lock, though? How did you know?” Matthew said, raising his head.

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose and took a heavy breath. Light was seeping through the thin blinds over the window. Another bright summer morning, just like the day he’d heard the news. 

“My mum. She taught me.” 

They didn’t have a right to the story, but Roy found himself continuing anyway, words stiff after a lifetime of being unsaid.

“Look, she... She worked in the palace, alright? When she’d come home, she’d set little locks for me as challenges. It was a game we’d play.”

The memory was still raw, choking him as it came out. She had been so proud when he’d first cracked one. The mischievous smile they’d shared, like co-conspirators. Perhaps that’s why he’d always had a taste for being in places he shouldn’t. 

“Where did she work?” Oliver asked gently.

“I dunno. For the Royal Family, and she was there when... well, you know.”

“She died in the attack,” Oliver said. It wasn’t a question, but Roy nodded.

“I’m sorry.” Matthew looked like he genuinely meant it, and Roy was unexpectedly touched. 

“Eh, it was nothing to do with you.” He shrugged again, but Matthew seemed to flinch as he spoke.

Oliver gave a deep sigh. “Alright. Well, unfortunately, that means we need an alternative plan.”

Traffic hummed past outside, muffled behind the closed windows. Roy had been truthful when he said he didn’t want to get tied up in any more criminal activity. The palace, though. To be where she had been. There wasn’t anywhere else Roy could think of that was so out of his reach, and yet so close to his heart.

“You know,” Roy said, breaking the silence, “there’s that garden party tomorrow. If it was me, I’d try and get hold of a ticket. Well, if it was really me, I’d swap shifts with a mate and get on the delivery crew, but I’m guessing that isn’t really an option for you.”

The delivery company he worked for had managed to get the contract for the anniversary events. He’d wanted nothing to do with the damn party when they were assigning jobs, but now he was starting to see things in a different light. In his experience, forcing your way into a building was the less efficient method. Roy had done it at Marek’s out of necessity, but he always preferred being let in through the front door.

“The anniversary,” Matthew muttered, looking at Oliver. “I can’t believe it, but I’d forgotten… it’s tomorrow.”

He unfolded himself from the chair and crossed over to the dining table. Roy craned his head back as far as he could without having to move from the couch, but stopped when he saw that Matthew was merely pacing the length of the room silently. 

Oliver was drumming his fingers against his leg. “Finding a ticket will be no simple task,” he stated. “Even if you were able to procure one, I’m sure there’ll be a guest list, too.” He turned to Matthew. “I’ll locate a list of the attendees. Perhaps seeing it will offer up a viable option.”

Roy couldn’t suppress the smirk that formed as Oliver spoke. “You don’t need a list, mate. I know exactly who’s got a ticket, but you’re not gonna like it.” Behind him, he heard Matthew stop moving. “Don’t you guys know Marek goes to the party every year?”

“Felix Marek,” Matthew said flatly. “What is your obsession with him, anyway? Why do you know that?”

“I’m not obsessed!” Roy whirled around, kneeling up on the sofa to challenge the accusation. “The bastard made a ton of money, alright? After the takeover. You worked for him; didn’t you wonder how he got so rich? Or did you just not care?” Roy scowled at Matthew, who didn’t look away.

“Tell me,” he growled, and Roy sank back down.

“They say he got a big payout for his ‘contributions’.” Roy made air quotes with his fingers. “He used to work in weapon design back in Vailberg, up until he got into business with Aiden Heliodor. He knows how they did it. I know it. Why do you think I broke in there? I was looking for answers.”

For a moment, Matthew didn’t move, an unreadable expression flashing across his face. When he spoke again his tone was softer. “So say we get the ticket from Felix Marek. What’s to stop him just telling the Palace that it’s gone missing?”

“I dunno.” Roy flopped back down next to Oliver, who jerked away from his touch.

“Matthew,” Oliver said thoughtfully. “The lock you were asked to install at Felix Marek’s property... Perhaps it isn’t thieves that are his primary concern.” He threw a glance in Roy’s direction. “The people who attacked us didn’t seem like they were supposed to draw attention. I don’t think Felix Marek wants anyone to know he had the wand in the first place. I don’t think he wants the weapon traced back to him.”

“So what? You’re suggesting we threaten to turn him in if he doesn’t get us into the party?”

“I’m just saying it could be leverage. We have a wand. Felix doesn’t know about our relationship with Morgan Heliodor; he has no reason to believe we wouldn’t take him down with us, so to speak, should he try to hand us in.”

Matthew ran a hand through his hair and Oliver shifted his seat.

“I mean, I don’t like it either — it’s dangerous,” he conceded. “I’m just suggesting it as an option.”

Roy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re not seriously going to go to the man trying to kill us all and ask him to take you to a party?”

Oliver steepled his fingers. “Felix Marek doesn’t know me. I should be able to arrange a meeting—”

“No,” Matthew said sharply, interrupting Oliver’s rationalisation. “Marek and I have business to settle. I don’t appreciate being attacked in the street, especially when they drag my friend into it, too. When I’m done with him, we aren’t going to need leverage.”

“Erm... but if attacking Marek directly was always an option, why the hell have we been hiding from him?” It seemed a bit unfair that Roy had been stuck hiding in a safe house if they could have just threatened Marek and forced him to back off this whole time.

“Things have changed.” Matthew didn’t seem like he was going to provide further explanation. The expression on his face, however, was enough for Roy to decide that he wouldn’t want to be Felix Marek right now. 

Oliver had reassumed his tapping, his expression sombre. “If you convince him to get you in, you’ll be alone.”

“I know,” Matthew replied. 

A conversation that Roy wasn’t privy to seemed like it was taking place beyond Matthew’s simple reply. He shuddered nonetheless.

Matthew was planning to break into the palace solo, right under Morgan’s nose, with only his enemy for company and at the most important official event of the year. Roy didn’t feel like he was being the stupid one this time.

“You promised you’d get Marek off my back, right?” The two men looked up at Roy as he spoke, but he continued before they could comment. He really hoped he wasn’t going to regret this. “I’m not saying I’m going to risk my neck for you, but Oliver sounds like he’s got it right to me. You’d be an idiot going in there alone. I’ll swap a shift; there’s always someone who doesn’t want to work those hours. Just make sure I never have to hear from Marek again. Or Morgan, for that matter.” 

Roy half expected them to tell him no, that he’d only get in the way. To be honest, they would probably be right.

Instead, Matthew extended a hand. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Roy clasped it in his own, Matthew’s fingers cold to the touch.

[redak-ted]

incorrect quotes for my tmnt au/iteration (pinned post)

[they're all adults btw]

Leona: We have a problem. Micheal: Let me guess, you caused it? April: Gimme a sec, I'm not drunk enough to listen to this yet. Casey: And it's another Tuesday, your point? Raph: Would shooting you solve this problem ? No ? Then shut up. Dee: If you're mean the fire, that's our solution to last week's problem.

~

Raph: If you got arrested what would be the charges? April: Theft. Casey: Disturbing the peace. Dee: Aggravated assault. Leona: Arson. Micheal: All of the above.In that order, probably.

~

Leona: Hello! Raph: Hihiiiiii! Dee: Greetings, Humans. April: Three kinds of people. Micheal: I want pudding. Leona: Four kinds of people. Casey: WHAT'S UP FUCKERS? April: Five kinds of people.

~

Leona: We're kind of missing something guys. Casey: Cohesion? Dee: Teamwork? Raph: A general sense of what we're doing? April: And Micheal is not here. Casey: Oh, and that, yeah.

~

Leona: Would you guys be there for me if I was going through something? Raph: Nope, absolutely not. Micheal: I hope it sucks, whatever you're going through. Dee: I hope it emotionally scars you for the rest of your life. April: I hope you reach out to me so I can ignore you. Casey: I can't wait to go to your funeral, knowing I could've changed that outcome.

~

The squad is over at Leona's house Raph: Ohhhh, we each get our own oven? Leona: … N-No… Leona, laughing: How many ovens do you think I have??? Raph, motioning to their kitchen: Three, I thought! Micheal: I see a- Leona, motioning to one device: This is a microwave. Raph: Oh, well I- Leona: Hey wait wait, actually- hang on- fiddles with the buttons on the microwave Leona, amazed: Its got a bake setting! Dee: Ohoho, you learn something new every day! April: Do we- Do we roshambo for who gets to pick first? Leona: Now I've just discovered I have more ovens than I thought, we don't have to roshambo nothin! Leona: I am someone who owns four ovens… Leona, louder and way too happy: I am someone… who owns FOUR OVENS… Leona: I didn't know I was so rich with ovens… Casey, pointing to another appliance: Also the toaster oven! Leona: Raph: Ohhh, toasty boy! Four- Five ovens! Leona: Leona, fucking ECSTATIC: I AM SOMEONE WHO OWNS FIVE OVENS

~

Leona: dies April: Timer starts now! When are they coming back? I say two months! Raph: Bullshit. One month. Dee: Nah, half a month. Micheal, sobbing: WHAT ARE YOU DOING? PERSON A JUST DIED! Casey, scratching chin in thought: One week.

~

At a dinner party, the guests converse while the host is away Raph: So how do you know the host? Leona: They were a former vegan, and they bought milk. Dee: That BITCH! Casey: I pulled them over for money laundering. April: I'm chaperoning their dinner party. Micheal: They stole a baconator! Dee: That BITCH! Raph: I tanked the store they were managing and they convinced me to quit from one of the only jobs I've ever had. Now I'm living off of unemployment checks and fear!

~

Leona: Posts a super low-quality image to the group chat Raph: If I had a dollar for every pixel in this image, I'd have 15 cents Leona: If I had a dollar for every ounce of rage I felt in my body after I read this text, I would have enough money to buy a cannon to fire at you Micheal: Actually I did the math, Raph would have $225, not $0.15. Raph: Fam I'm right here…. Dee: If I had a dollar I would buy a can of soda :) Leona: while you're there could you buy me an apply juice please? Dee: Sorry I only have a dollar Leona: :( Micheal: Hey I just realized my friend is right, Raph would have $22, 500 because it's a dollar for every pixel, not a cent Dee: If I had $22, 500 I would buy a can of soda and an apply juice Micheal: You can buy anything you want with $22, 500 April: Yeah and they want soda and apply juice Micheal: Apply juice to what Casey: Directly to the forehead Raph: Great chat everyone

~

Leona, rubbing their temples: I am not proud of what I am about to say, but someone get me a cigarrette. April: But Leona, we don't smoke. Leona: Cut the crap, April. I'm not an idiot. I know that one in five people smoke. Leona: points at Casey One! points at Raph Two! points at Micheal Three! points at Dee Four! points at April Five! Leona: Now, I am going to close my eyes, and when I open them, there better be a cigarrette between these two fingers! Dee: puts a cigarrette in Leona's hand Leona: Thank you. …Light? The Squad: all simultaneously pull out lighters

[chaoticsoft]

I Turn 30 in 6 Days. Here Are Some of the Things I've Learned:

Cut your kitchen sponge in half. They really don't need to be as big as they are to get the job done and it makes the pack last way longer.

Cheap(er) shampoo, expensive conditioner.

If you can afford their care, a little animal companion does wonders for your mental health.

Learning languages is a cool and sexy way to keep your brain malleable.

Speaking of malleability, stretch your muscles every single day. Every. Day.

If you are someone who gets a period, menstrual cups are something that's improved my quality of life so much. Reusable, cloth pads and period underwear are also game-changers. Good for the environment and you save so much money.

If a job hires you on the spot, like immediately, barely asking you a single question about your qualifications, there's a 97% chance that job is going to be a disaster.

In a similar vein, if someone gets very, very serious about you/tells you they want to marry you after barely dating for like a month, that is a red flag. While there are cases where it can work out, 9 times out of 10, that person is not in love with you (How can they be? They don't know you yet), and is simply desperate to be with someone, anyone, doesn't really matter who. Not a healthy foundation for a relationship.

Protein helps a hangover. Everyone finds their own little things that work for them, but my personal favorite remedy is steak & eggs.

Speaking of alcohol, I am of the "harm reduction" school of thought. If you're going to drink (or do drugs, for that matter), do it at home where you are safe and around people you trust. Use as little as possible and take tolerance breaks.

Cooking doesn't have to be complicated. If you can read, you can do it. The easiest thing ever is soups. A good rule of thumb is to start with something from the allium family (leeks, garlic, shallots, onions), something to add bulk like your potato of choice, carrots, butternut squash, then something leafy for texture like kale, bok choy, cabbage. Nutritional yeast can add a wonderful flavor.

Try and have at least one healthy, easy meal you can make when you're in a bad headspace. My go-to is lentils cooked in vegetable broth eaten over microwaveable rice. Or I throw a bag of frozen vegetables and a can of coconut milk into a pan with turmeric, ginger powder, cayenne pepper, coriander, etc.-- Bam, vegetable curry in like 10ish minutes.

Sex toys are tools to achieve or enhance sexual pleasure. A partner who is threatened by a vibrator ain't shit lol.

If you, like me, were never taught how to self-soothe (regulate your negative emotions/calm yourself down without spiraling into darkness), a piece of advice my therapist offered me was to speak to myself as though I'm a very small, frightened child. To comfort a child that's crying, I would not say, "get over it, you dumb bitch" or whatever cruel, negative self-talk I tend to throw at myself. Instead, I would speak calmly to that child. I would gently soothe them, reassuring them that they are safe. I do this with myself all the time now, calling myself "sweetheart," assuring myself that everything will be okay. It has not replaced the mean, negative voice in my head, but it does always challenge and often override it.

Your healing does not depend on those who hurt you being sorry.

If you are the marrying kind, marry the one who feels like safety, who you look at and your heart thinks, "Home." Marry the one who, when they tell you everything will be alright, you can believe them. It helps, also, to find your best and deepest friendship in your mate. To genuinely like as well as love them.