#the feng shui of this room is ACTUALLY so much better than my last room im so happy

[todayisafridaynight]

i see you are a fear and hunger fan. Injecting my brainwaves onto you

ouuugghhh these branwaves make me want pretzel sticks.....

[bagopucks]

Blurbs

Cole Caufield x Reader

✄————————————

The chill of cold bedsheets woke me up. Likewise the smell of fresh coffee. When my eyes fluttered open, I knew something was off. That something, being the lack of my boyfriend’s presence. I laid awake listening to his thudding footsteps down the hall, and the undeniable sound of his humming. It brought a smile to my lips. A quiet rumble of thunder blocked out the noise from my boyfriend, and I realized quickly why he was up so early. Cole was too light of a sleeper to be able to get through storms.

I climbed out of bed and checked the time on my phone. I had missed messages from friends, asking for a day in hanging out and catching up. I would have said yes if not for my knowledge that days in with Cole were far more fun.

I tossed my phone onto our bed and slipped out of the bedroom, careful to be quiet so I wouldn’t startle him. It took me a moment to actually find Cole, but when I stepped into the living room, I was greeted by the most wonderful sight.

I grew up in a shoreside town, surrounded by the most beautiful views. When I decided to take Cole home with me, we agreed on renting out a small house close to the ocean. Nothing too expensive, or even extravagant, but something that offered us privacy and a fun experience. Our first home together, technically.

Cole took advantage of all the windows, keeping the blinds open at all hours of the day until it got completely dark out.

I assumed it was the first thing he did when he woke up that morning, seeing as he was laid out on the floor, hands held to his stomach and eyes closed, basking in the sunlight that just barely peeked out from behind the hazy clouds.

I folded my arms across my chest, Cole’s old muscle tank top barely covering much of what it was supposed to, but it was only us. I didn’t want to speak, afraid of ruining his relaxation, but he broke the silence anyway.

“Come lay with me.” Id admit, it startled me.

“How’d you know I was here?”

“I’m in my feng shui era.” I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, but I walked over and sat on the floor next to him nonetheless. Cole opened his eyes and looked up at me with a lazy smile. “I opened the windows.”

“To smell the rain?”

“Yeah.” He rested a hand on my knee.

“We should move south when I retire.”

“You like this?” I taunted playfully.

“I love it.” He patted my knee. “Lay with me.” I wasn’t the biggest fan of laying on the floor, but I did for Cole, resting on my back next to him.

“You gonna tell me what feng shui is?” I had to ask, seeing as he wasn’t going to volunteer the information.

“Something about balance and inner peace.”

“Right.. cause the Cole last night who wined and complained we didn’t have ice cream, was definitely feeling that inner peace.”

“I don’t remember that.” I turned my head to glare at him.

“I do. Because you were a hassle to deal with.”

He laughed, his pretty teeth on display as his eyes closed in delight.

“We should stock up on ice cream then.”

“Or get you some behavioral management classes.” I countered, reaching out to grab ahold of one of his hands. Cole intertwined our fingers and allowed me to rest our hands on the carpet between us. A rumble of thunder ceased our conversation, and Cole inched himself closer to me, to the point that I ended up moving our hands to rest against my stomach, so he could press his shoulder into my own.

“Storm wake you up?”

“I was up all night.” My brow furrowed at his response, and I turned my head once again to look at him. “It rained and thundered all night, and the lightning was real bad too.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Cause you sleep better than I do. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Cole,” I pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I would have laid up with you all night. We didn’t have plans today.”

“It’s fine.. I’ll just take a nap later.”

I sighed and turned my head to look back up at the ceiling. Cole squeezed my hand in reassurance.

“We could take a bath.” I suggested slyly.

“Really?” Cole may have had the occasional issue with his height, but I would admit, one thing we never had to worry about was how he was fitting in the bathtub when we wanted to relax together.

“Or we could get the heated blanket out and read.”

“Oh I’m not in a reading mood.” I chuckled at his response. “But I like the heated blanket.”

“Here’s an idea,” I drew in a breath. “We can do the bath, then get dressed, and I’ll plug the heated blanket in for you to nap under.”

“You’re napping with me, girl.” Cole turned his head to look at me, nudging my leg with his own.

“Yeah. I’ll nap with you.”

“I’m not sharing my blanket though.”

“What the fuck Cole?” I feigned offense, laughter bubbling from our lips. “I bought that blanket for you, and you won’t even share it?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You better think long and hard, Buddy. And then you better make the right decision. You’ll lose your cuddle Buddy if you make the wrong one.” I warned as I slowly turned onto my side, propping my head up on my hand and releasing Cole’s hand to fix the shirt that did nothing to cover my body at this point.

“You’re not wearing anything under that?”

“This was what I threw on after last night. Sue me for assuming I didn’t need to be decent for my horny boyfriend.”

“You’re so mean today.” Cole laughed, turning away from me. I gasped at his antics.

“Absolutely not, Coley.” I reached for the back of his shirt and tugged on it. “Hey!” I tried to quiet my laughter as I scooted closer to him and snaked my arm around his midriff.

“I don’t wanna talk if you’re gonna be mean.”

“Then forget the nap and the bath.” I threatened as I pulled away. “I’ll go chill in the guest room.”

“You will not!” He spoke, in clear disbelief of my words.

“Will too!” I argued as I stood up. I looked down at Cole in time to see him turn to me and reach for my ankle. I leapt out of his reach, and before I knew it, Cole was off the floor and chasing me down the hall.

[survey--s]

535.

do you think weird it’s for someone to have never tried soda? It is pretty unusual, yeah. I mean, “soda” encompasses such a huge range of drinks that it is a bit weird for a grown adult to NEVER have tried any of them.

is there any foreign film you recommend? Amelie and La Vie en Rose are both really good.

do you have the same religious beliefs as your parents? Yeah, in the sense that none of us are religious lol.

which floor of your house/building are you on now? The ground floor.

are there any maps hanging in your room? Yeah, Mike has one on his side of the bed actually.

are you often a third wheel? or is someone a third wheel to you? No and no.

what’s the last dvd you bought? The extended editions of the LOTR movies. I got the boxset off eBay for less than a tenner lol.

tell me about your favorite pair of jeans. They’re just black skinny jeans.

would you ride a motorcycle if given the chance? (or have you?) I have done but I have no real desire to go on one again.

is your hair healthy? It’s WAY better than it was now that I don’t straighten it, but it could be healthier. I guess I just can’t really be bothered and I work outdoors so it gets exposed to everything anyway.

if a hotel offered free breakfast in bed, what would you order? American-style pancakes with butter, syrup, blueberries and bacon OR sourdough toast with smashed avocado, a poached egg and bacon, depending on my mood. I LOVE a hotel breakfast, haha.

how often do you take a train? Maybe every 2-3 years.

what’s your favorite led zeppelin song? Stairway to Heaven.

does your home have a balcony/deck/porch? Nope, I would LOVE a balcony off my bedroom though. My dream is to have one overlooking the sea one day.

what does your closet/wardrobe say about you? That I know what I like and stick with it, lol.

do you enjoy theatre? Yeah, especially musical theatre.

how would you feel about traveling abroad alone? I’ve done it before. It was a good experience but generally I prefer to have company.

who would you call a lyrical genius? Laura Marling.

how do you treat yourself? I mean, I think I treat myself pretty well?

do you have an interesting passport? I don’t have a passport anymore but my Australian passport was always interesting as it was full of stamps from all over the place.

are you going to pursue a career according to what you enjoy? I have done and I absolutely love it. It’s genuinely the best job in the world. Even on the worst days, I never dread going to work.

what happens to your old clothes? Mine get donated to charity.

what’s your favorite frozen treat? Sorbets or frozen yoghurts. I loved granita too but I’ve never really seen it outside of Italy before.

who supports you financially? I run my own business but my husband I have joint finances so I guess we help to support each other.

if you wanted to go to the movie cinema, how would you get there? I’d have to drive - our nearest is about a half an hour away.

how many pillows are on your bed? Four, plus two throw cushion things.

would you pay more for organic food? Nope.

do you prefer being awake after everyone goes to bed or before they get up? Before everyone gets up. I LOVE having an hour or two to myself in the mornings - I can get stuff done, have a coffee and have breakfast without being talked at, haha.

do you know much about feng shui? (do you use it?) I get the general idea of it but I don’t use it.

how would you make friends in a quiet class? I wouldn’t lol. I hate starting conversations with strangers.

are you generally a quick learner? With some things, yeah.

what’s your favorite spot to read? On a sun lounger in the garden.

did you know that buddha is not considered a god to buddhists? Yes.

do you save tickets from movies, etc.? I did as a teenager but I haven’t done something like that for years.

without looking him up, who was jim morrison? Lead singer of The Doors.

when’s the last time your bedroom was painted/wallpapered? About...four years ago, I think?

teach me something in another language. (not french/chinese/german/arabic) “Cosa mangi?” means “What are you eating?” in Italian.

what type of music do you like and why? All kinds of music and because I just...do, I guess?

if you randomly want to eat something in the house, do you eat it or wait? Normally I just eat it, but it depends whether it needs cooking or not LOL.

who knows the most about you (besides yourself)? Anyone who reads these, plus my husband.

do you have a nervous habit? (e.g. biting nails, tapping feet, smoking) Playing with my hair and biting at my nails.

how’s your favorite pro sports team doing lately? I don’t have one.

would you be/are you a good role model to a younger sibling? Yeah, I think I would be. I mean, I’ve never done anything overly stupid or illegal and I think overall I’ve done pretty well with my life.

[dahliasanddimples]

Day 3. Well at least you weren’t the first thing on my mind today… or the last thing I thought about last night. Maybe bc last night I was buying a gift for my cute little niece. Is shopping the trick? Is shopping really the way. Mood: add to cart. Did not get the best sleep last night weirdly bc I popped a NyQuil. That usually knocks me out but it’s a new room for me so maybe it’s adjusting. Maybe the feng shui is wrong. At least you weren’t the last thing I thought of or the first thing. Though you came immediately after lol

I got a second job and I swear I wanna call out. I feel like it’s too soon I don’t want to. I feel like it’s too soon and I don’t have the social skills to start yet. Maybe I should get one in a different place, really start new. At first I wanted to get one downtown so that I might possibly run into you, or your friends and you guys could all see me. Like damn she works there. And she’s a cutie and and and.. I still might. But for me. Not you. Bc it’s a good way to meet people and network and get my mind off you. I just might actually. Plus extra money duh

Day 3 and I feel a TON of a tonnes better. Honestly I felt better just sending that text. I think that’s closure for me honestly. Like closure that it’s actually over and not just lingering in the air. Even though I did drunkenly end it the night before *face palm* closure that it’s over on a good note bc you know what I did love you but I actually didn’t think it was working. Like whole heartedly I didn’t think it was working. Even in the first initial break up I knew it wasn’t working. Even before we broke up I knew it wasn’t working. We are very much different. I’m a likeable person so it’s not hard to have fun with me but damn. I’ll never forget. Took your ass out of the city and complained the entire time. Took your ass out and didn’t even appreciate it. HA. You’re actually a loser. Why do men always feel some type of way when women are financially more powerful. Like get your money up girly

Also lately I’ve just been getting major ICKs about my ex. He has just been on my mind for all the wrong reasons. If there was anyone I regretted it would be him. And there’s a lot I regret but he’s just…. He’s just A FUCKING WEIRDO just barf just fucking BARF

Anyways I’m up earlier than I have been in awhile and it’s taking all of joy to go back to sleep.. let me.. hit.. the gym *sleepy face*

[honeytea8]

“Mister Fix-it” - Josuke/gn!Reader

A/N: Something I posted a while back on AO3 and now I’m dumping it here, I edited it to be gender neutral, pls let me know if I missed anything, enjoy!

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: When your brand new air conditioning system doesn’t live up to the hype, you’re left with no other choice but to call Josuke Higashikata, the neighborhood handy-man and Morioh’s local heartthrob. (Post-canon; Josuke is 19/Reader is 23ish)

There is not a single ‘moderate’ thing about the summers in Morioh Cho and you come to this shocking discovery during your very first year back in this crazy, noisy town.

One early morning, a wave of heat sweeps in like a thief in the night, creeping over your body and making your nightshirt cling to you like second skin. A relentless force of nature that saps any residual moisture in the air. Everything is left high and dry—you lament over your dying succulent.

You can’t count how many cups of ice water you’ve guzzled or how many cold showers you’ve taken just to end up sweaty again, but something’s got to give. The day after Kai Harada announces the possibility of record-breaking temperatures in the following weeks, you delve into your emergency savings for a solution only money can buy.

Two days later, a portly electrician comes and installs a new air conditioning system for your home. He’s yammering on about how it’s supposed to be the best on the market. State of the art and all that jazz. You don’t really care for the details; you just want to be comfortable in your own house lest you end up a melted pile of goo. Who the hell would take care of your vegetable garden then?

You inspect the newly installed system with subdued interest. Truthfully, it doesn’t look like anything but an eyesore that’s completely thrown off the ambiance of the entire living room. It’s practically hanging out of your window. However, the only thing keeping you from complaining about its appearance is the dusty fan overhead that’s been circulating the same muggy, warm air for over an hour now. You prefer functionality over appearance, screw feng shui, you needed this AC.

“So, you’re positive it'll cool down the entire house?” you question one final time.

As if to prove his point, the electrician flicks a switch and the machine attached to the wall comes to life. The droning hum is annoying and would take some getting used to but it’s blowing the coldest air you’ve felt in a while. Both you and the electrician remain standing in front of it for a few seconds, basking in wonder.

Like magic, the heat-induced stress and tension leave your body all at once.

“Well then,” you say with a smile, “It’ll do.”

One week. Seven days. A hundred-and-sixty-eight hours of pure, absolute, uninterrupted bliss. You are in heaven! Your plants are flourishing as usual, and you aren’t sweating profusely like a pig for slaughter. Life is oh so good.

Until you wake up on the eighth day at four am with the worst case of cotton-mouth you’ve ever experienced.

You tumble out of bed, delirious from the sudden onslaught of heat that has transformed your bedroom into a sauna. Loose cotton sheets tangle with your ankles and you hit the ground, chin scuffing against the floor in your haste. The adrenaline pumping through your veins keeps you from wincing, or even feeling the pain. All you can hear is the sound of your own two feet pounding on the polished wooden staircase.

“Please, no, no, no, no—“

You sweep into the living room only to find the new air system is completely silent and no amount of switch-flicking or button-punching is going to change that. Mouth screwing into a scowl, you glare at the overpriced piece of junk with unbridled disdain.

This has become personal.

A hard smack from the palm of your hand to the surface of the machine echoes through the room—still nothing, not even a stirring. 

Big fat tears well up in your eyes. Whatever hormones fueling your rage are now flooding you with sadness. Your hand and chin are throbbing from the pain. The money spent on this crap was gone and now you’d have to shell out another hefty amount just to get it fixed. You want to pull out your hair in frustration.

Glancing around the room, everything is so still and calm. It’s still quite early in the morning, a few hours before dawn and you are tired as hell. The heat is making you lethargic, so after drying your tears and chewing on some ice cubes, you curl up on your sofa and go back to a fitful sleep.

.

.

.

Later in the day, you’re hanging clothes out on the line when your neighbor comes out to greet you.

She’s a grandma who lives alone except for when her grand kids come to visit, and despite her penchant for being a nosy gossip, you kind of like her. She waves and meanders over to the edge of her fence. 

“This is some heat, I tell you.”

“Right! I didn’t realize Morioh could even get this hot,” you pick up another sheet and toss it over the wire. “Would you believe that I spent two paychecks on an air conditioner that doesn’t even work.”

Your neighbor gives you a look of pity. “Oh dear, such a shame.” You watch as she adjusts the chairs and tables around her patio.

“You know, I have a teacher-friend with a son who has a knack for fixing things. Had him take a look at my plumbing a few weeks ago and he had it working right as rain. I can ask him to come by and take a look at it for you.”

You shuffle the empty bamboo basket in your arms. “I...guess that could work. Have him drop by sometime.” 

What’s the worst that could happen?

Two days later, you’re tending to your many plants—because you’d be damned if another died because of this heat—when a Greek god falls from the sky and onto your doorstep.

“Hi! I’m Josuke Higashikata, your neighbor said you had a problem with your air conditioner.”

To say you’re surprised would be an understatement: the young man standing on your porch is a damn stunner. His pouty lips, broad shoulders, and slim waist are more than enough to fuel a wet dream or two. Your brain short-circuits for a solid minute. Is it hot in here or what?

(And for once, you aren’t talking about the actual weather.)

He shifts nervously from one foot to another when you don’t immediately respond, but all you can do is stare. You’re thirsty for more than just a drink of water right now.

“Um,” he looks down at the sticky note in his hand and mumbles to himself. “This is the address, right?”

That snaps you out of your stupor. You internally berate yourself for looking like a gaping idiot in front of this knockout.

“YES! Ahem—yeah, y-you’re at the right place.” you move aside and allow him in. And good Lord, he’s tall. You wouldn't mind climbing that beanstalk.

Josuke is dressed in a striped yellow tee and pair of boardshorts that fit just right, a real sight for sore eyes.

You try not to swoon and realize rather belatedly that your own attire isn’t hiding much from view. Since the air conditioner stopped working, you reverted back to wearing tank tops and shorts around the house. Josuke, for what it's worth, isn't ogling you but he’s obviously noticed if his reddened cheeks are anything to go by.

“Right over here.” You say breezily.

The sway in your hips is subtle enough that it doesn’t look intentional. You guide him over to where the AC is sitting in the wall like a heap of scrap metal. Josuke didn’t bring any tools with him, so you’re skeptical about how he plans on fixing it. Honestly, even if he can't, you plan on making the most out of this.

You enter the kitchen adjacent to the living room, allowing him to take a look at the thing without you hovering.

As you’re straightening out the dining table, you ask, “So, how old are you, Josuke? You look a little young to be a handy-man.”

There’s a pause in his movements. “I just turned nineteen!”

Your fantasy dies a swift death somewhere deep within the dredges of your subconscious. Of course he’s young, as if you hadn’t noticed. Dialing back on the flirtation, you hum out an ‘oh cool’. The last thing you want to be is a cradle robber!

You aren’t that much older than him...but it still feels a bit wrong? You’ve never been with a younger guy before.

A startling hum resounds throughout the house and you feel a gust of cool air coming from overhead. Josuke has managed to fix it! You rush back into the room just in time to catch him stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“All done!”

“That—That was really quick? What was wrong with it?”

Josuke only shrugged. “Not sure, but it seems to be working now.”

You stare uncomprehendingly.

“So...was there anything else you’d like me to fix?”

Blinking you look around for something but come up short. “No, not unless you can bring plants back to life.”

Now it’s Josuke’s turn to blink as he takes a look around with wide eyes. He hadn’t noticed all the plants in the various corners of your home, he had been too distracted by—

“Which ones?” He says before he can stop himself.

You point to the succulent perched on the coffee table, it’s dried up and brittle in some parts, but it’s not completely dead. He kneels down to its height, touches some of its chubby petals. Then he silently calls on Crazy Diamond and with a single touch, it’s restored back to its normal health.

A few years post-Yoshikage Kira, Josuke has gotten a lot better with his powers, utilizing his stand with ease. He turns and gives you a smile and has no idea he’s giving you heart palpitations just by looking like that.

“Woah! Josuke, what the hell was that?”

“Ahh, it’s hard to explain. Just know it’s something I’ve been able to do since I was a kid.”

“Wow, th-that’s some trick,” you glance at your plant in shock. It’s literally back to normal. You recall all the time spent nurturing it, along with your other plants. All the sweat doled out during back-breaking gardening. How could you ever repay him for making sure your hard work didn’t go down the drain?

Before you know it, you have his face in your hands and you don’t know what the hell you're doing but you're holding him and staring tearfully.

“Thank you times a million. Seriously.”

Josuke just gulps and nods. “Uh huh, not a problem.”

You really try to ignore the way he’s staring at your lips or the heavy blush on his cheeks because, again, you are not robbing the cradle. With more self-control than you knew you had, you let go of his face and step back.

“S-So would you like some tea, or lemonade or—“

“Lemonade,” he says as he stands to his full height. “Lemonade is fine.”

You nod with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. He is so cute. You scamper off into the kitchen and pull out a full pitcher of homemade lemonade. Meanwhile, Josuke is left to take a look around your house.

There are plants everywhere, most are leafy, green, and healthy. The ones that aren’t, get a boost from his stand power.

Josuke wants to compare your home to a jungle or the Amazon, but that’s not quite an accurate comparison. Even though there’s clearly a lot going on, it’s not cluttered or disorganized at all. It’s just...really freaking amazing! There’s even a flourishing terrarium built in the walls near the staircase.

With your obvious love for nature, Josuke thinks you’d get along great with Mr. Jotaro, but for some reason he doesn’t feel too inclined to introduce you two.

When you finally return, you catch Josuke eyeing your little turtle tank with a weird look.

“That’s Kame, I just got him a month ago.”

Josuke laughs, “Kame, huh? That’s pretty clever.”

“I thought so too,” you hand him the cold drink and as he takes it, his fingers graze yours. “He doesn’t do much, so if you’re expecting him to do a trick, you’ll be waiting a while.”

“Oh nah, it wasn’t that. I’m just…kind of afraid of the little guy.”

Biting back the urge to say ‘awww’, you usher him over to the engawa overlooking your vegetable garden. “A fear of turtles is understandable. But would you believe that I used to be afraid of fish?”

“Fish? No, I can’t say I would. But I also wouldn’t judge.”

You smile at that because of course, he wouldn’t judge you. “Yup, had a bad experience when I was five. My father used to live in Morioh, near the coast. He was a fisherman,” you pause, momentarily distracted by the bob of his adam’s apple as he takes his first sip.

“H-He umm, took me fishing once... and it was the first time I’d ever laid eyes on a real fish. Needless to say, I screamed my head off.”

“No! Seriously?” Josuke chuckles and it’s so contagious and addicting. Soon you're laughing too.

“I swear, I cannot make this up!”

“So, what happened?”

“Okay, so I’m screaming like a mad person and running away. You know what my dad does? That asshole chases me with the thing still dangling from his fishing rod.” You shake your head at the memory. “I literally got sick and threw up that night, and boy did my mom chew him out for it.”

“That sounds so hilarious and yet so traumatic.” He laughs again. “That’s terrible!”

“Right! I could never look at a fish after that or even be around them. It took years before I finally got over it.” You sigh and shake your head again.

Silence ebbs between you for a moment before Josuke clears his throat. 

“So, this might seem a bit forward, but would you like to go on a date with me?”

The question doesn’t register in your head all at once, leaving you to stumble over your words until you can finally think coherently. “Josuke I...I’m a bit older than you. Shouldn’t you go for someone more closer to your age?”

“No, and I’ve never believed age should stop two consenting adults from getting to know each other better.”

“Josuke, I’m old enough to be your big sibling though.”

He quirks his brow at that like you’ve just said something weird. “Well, Mr. Joestar, was like ancient when he met my mom so that really doesn’t bother me.”

For some reason, that comment breaks the tension. You barely hold back a grin. “This Mr. Joestar guy is your father then?”

“Biologically speaking, yeah. He’s pretty old now and I never really knew him, but my mom still loves him with everything she has.”

Okay. Now you are really having heart palpitations.

Josuke is exhibiting a surprising amount of maturity right now, making you eat your words about him being too young for you. Why did he have to be so convincing on top of being cute?

“Give me a chance,” he says. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

After mulling over it for a moment, you finally acquiesce.

“Alright, Josuke. One date, and we’ll see from there.” and just to catch him off guard, you peck his cheek. “Okay?”

“Y-Yeah! Of course, it’ll be perfect!”

Taking the empty lemonade glass from him, you both re-enter your home with smiles on your faces. Josuke stays a little longer and you both chat for a while then make plans for your date. You get to learn about how much of a hopeless romantic he is and how he’s a firm believer in love. He makes it very clear that he doesn’t want a fling and that he’s looking for long-term. All of these things surprise you, as they aren’t what you’d expect from someone as gorgeous as him.

By the time the sun is setting, you know it’s time for you two to part ways. Josuke stands at your foyer with pursed lips and a blush on his cheeks. “Can I...kiss you?”

To answer his question, you lean up and press a soft kiss on his mouth. Josuke’s strong arms snake around your hips, drawing you closer into his sturdy frame. His plush lips are gentle and pliant against your own. 

When Josuke finally pulls back he is presented with the sight of your closed eyes and kiss-reddened lips and it’s the most enthralling two seconds ever. He thinks you're so freaking beautiful.

“Alright handy-man,” you say as you give him one last peck on the corner of his mouth. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, sure thing!”

Ironically enough, you have this nightmare of a heatwave to thank for your date with Morioh Cho’s favorite dreamboat.

[red-talisman]

More random unbetaed “human guardian lion!!Jiang Cheng working on rebuilding Lotus Pier’s wards with his siblings while everyone has PTSD and they don’t know what’s coming in the plot.” Please don’t take my description of energy work here as any kind of accurate representation of any Chinese tradition. (  ´･ω･` )

[Portrayal of PTSD symptoms and allusion to past child abuse.]

_______

“You ready to head out to the lake?” Jiang Cheng asks when he clears the last bite from breakfast.

Wei Wuxian blinks at him. “What?”

“The lake, you idiot. We need to figure out where the flows of energy are so we can map out the new construction, remember?”

“Oh. Right.”

His tone is strange. Jiang Cheng frowns, and even Jiang Yanli looks concerned. “What’s wrong? Are you getting sick?”

“No, no, I’m not sick. But, uh. Today’s not good for me?”

Jiang Cheng sets down his teacup harder than he intends to and kindly pretends he doesn’t see Wei Wuxian’s reflexive twitch for a sword he doesn’t even bother to wear anymore. “What are you talking about? What could possibly be more important than this right now?”

“Look, I’m sorry,” says Wei Wuxian, getting to his feet with a smile that makes Jiang Cheng want to punch him because it’s so obviously fake, “but I’ll make it up to you! I promise! I have to go, but good luck!”

“What the fuck, Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng yells at his back. “Wei Wuxian!”

“Let him go,” Jiang Yanli says quietly, putting a hand over one of Jiang Cheng’s.

“A-Jie, what the hell is going on with him? Why wouldn’t he - does he not care?”

The thought sounds so ludicrous out loud - Wei Wuxian has never been anything but loyal in word and deed to the sect, especially his siblings, especially their sister - but with the gods-forsaken war finally over and all the sects agreeing to an unspoken pause in politics while they lick their respective wounds, what could possibly be more important than this?

"You know that’s not true,” Jiang Yanli murmurs, very gently disapproving, and Jiang Cheng flushes, because he does know that perfectly well. “I believe that it might...be a shadow he carries.”

“A shadow?”

“The kind that causes people to wake up at night.” Her glance at Jiang Cheng reminds him that she’s one of only two people who can calm those nights when he wakes with a swinging fist or a scream in his throat, or those days when a memory is particularly loud and he has no idea how much time will pass before the memory lets him go again. “I think he carries more from his time in the Burial Mounds than he’s ever admitted to us, and then he went straight into the campaign...”

“Then why won’t he tell us?” Jiang Cheng demands, confused and, yes, a little hurt, because if they can’t rely on each other, who else can they rely on? The sect is rebuilding but they only have each other. (Right? What does it mean if their brother doesn’t trust...?)

“Breathe, a-Cheng,” says Jiang Yanli, and he gasps out a sudden breath, unaware that he’d been holding it. “Our brother is still here with us. He just needs time. Things will get better.”

“Right,” he says, more to himself. “Right.” A few minutes in silence pass as he waits for his traitorous heart to stop racing so fast for no fucking reason. “I’m going to the secondary eastern dock. Where will you be?”

“I’ll be speaking with the weavers in the main courtyard about cloth supplies, and then I’ll be speaking with the doctors about the plans for the infirmary here in the hall,” she replies calmly, not at all perturbed by his need to know.

“Right,” he says again. “I’ll be back before lunch.”

Jiang Yanli smiles at him and pets his hand before letting it go. “I look forward to it.”

__

The eastern docks are a short distance from the center of Lotus Pier, located just far enough around a curve of the lake’s shore that the noise of hammers and saws and loud conversation is dimmed but not silenced. (He doesn’t like being near the Pier but hearing only silence. It makes his mind start racing, and that fucks up his sword forms.) Only a few people are around, too busy to bother their sect leader with more than a passing nod. He approves. Clearly they have their priorities in the proper order.

Jiang Cheng sits cross-legged at the end of a dock, still sturdy despite the charred edges, and closes his eyes, lets his palms lay relaxed over his knees, allows his breathing to slow. It’s easy to find the warm glow of his golden core turning around itself deep in his chest, and although it’s felt odd in ways that Jiang Cheng can’t quite put into words since Baoshan Sanren somehow miraculously recreated it, he’s never been able to find anything actually wrong with it. 

He follows the flow of qi from his core and through his meridians, and soon he feels the whispers of qi which aren’t his own like small tributaries coming together to share waters. It starts with the wooden planks beneath him and their lingering memory of living as a tree. Then it’s the gentle ebb and flow of the water beneath that, a cool murmur that hints at the larger, heavier pool that permeates Yunmeng’s larger system of lakes and rivers. Below that, the earth sits heavy and cool, endlessly patient as the years pass it by.

It takes a golden core to feel so deeply into the world’s flows of qi, and even cultivators struggle with it. Jiang Cheng himself has never been able to do it outside of Yunmeng: the farther he is from Lotus Pier, the harder it is, and the few times he snuck away in Gusu Lan during indoctrination to test himself, he didn’t feel anything at all. He always figured it’s some weird quirk about having grown up running half-feral around these lakes along with the bone-deep certainty that he would one day become their human lord, as his father and his father before that had done. For whatever reason, since the war ended, it’s been easier than ever to sink into Lotus Pier’s invisible network.

Wei Wuxian, of course, almost never had any trouble tracking the flows of qi outside of himself, regardless of location. But Jiang Cheng breathes through that thought, ruthlessly reminding himself that the only people who would dare measure them against each other anymore are dead and that a skill carried by his brother is a skill that will strengthen the Yunmeng Jiang Sect as a whole.

He still has his brother and his sister. They are the Yunmeng Jiang Sect and the Yunmeng Jiang Sect is them, and they will be strong, they will be, and their waters will drown any fire that dares turn its heat towards them again.

He repeats this to himself over and over until the words turn into nonsensical sounds, and he keeps repeating them anyway.

__

“This is all you got?” Wei Wuxian asks during lunch, tilting his head at Jiang Cheng’s rough brushstrokes of green ink overlaying the darker lines of the geographical map.

“Yes, asshole, and you wouldn’t be complaining if you’d actually helped me,” Jiang Cheng grumbles over his rice.

Instead of whining like a child or wailing like Jiang Cheng had threatened his virtue, Wei Wuxian’s eyes narrow with uncharacteristic darkness. “Fuck you,” he snaps, and it feels so much like one of his mother’s unexpected slaps to the face that Jiang Cheng is shocked right out of his irritation.

“A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli gasps.

They watch silently as their brother jerks back, stares between them, and finally lets out a long, shaky breath.

“...Sorry.”

There’s an awkward silence before Wei Wuxian clears his throat and pastes on a smile. “Well, what’re we waiting for? Let’s see how far we can get with the feng shui before we realize we have to find someone who actually knows what they’re doing with it, ha!”

“No, no one else,” Jiang Cheng says decisively. “If one of the architects says we have to move something out of physical necessity, fine, but I don’t want anyone else knowing how the arrays work.”

“A-Cheng, it wasn’t a traitor who brought the Wens,” Jiang Yanli reminds him, but Jiang Cheng is shaking his head before she finishes her sentence. He’s not sure how to explain that even the thought of someone who isn’t one of his siblings seeing into the soul of Lotus Pier’s rebirth makes Zidian grow warm on his finger.

Wei Wuxian puts his hands in the air in a conciliatory gesture and says, very seriously, “That’s fine, but then we’ll have to figure something out in case there’s a situation that requires someone who isn’t one of us.”

If all three of them are incapacitated, then they’re probably fucked anyway, Jiang Cheng doesn’t say. But then again, there is no sect without disciples, and if he expects his disciples to be loyal, then the sect must be loyal to them in turn. “Fine. Yes, fine, you’re right. But not now. Maybe...maybe some of the senior disciples. But not now.”

“Not now, then,” Wei Wuxian agrees without a fight, and reaches out to run long fingers over a curl of green ink. “Let’s talk arrays that could blow an army up into the Jade Emperor’s throne room instead.”

[dalgikiss]

Catch-22 // h. iwaizumi

index

part 1

“She doesn’t hate you” 

“You’re actually blind if you can’t see how much she does hate me”

“She really doesn’t”

You roll your eyes, pushing your pencil into his forehead. “You’re blind as fuck”

He grimaces, swatting your hand away. “And you are paranoid as fuck”

It’s the fourth time this week that you’ve had this argument with Iwaizumi Hajime over his new girlfriend, Ryuoko Naoe,  that supposedly did not hate you, although you begged to differ. Every angry glare she sent your way and the way her lips curled into a sneer when she was forced to say your name only served for you to further believe she hated you, not that you resented her for it. 

She had a good reason to- considering you had a rather huge crush on him and was considered one of his closest friends. Your relationship with her had only gotten worse when your teacher had switched around the seating- something about the feng shui or whatever, you really couldn't care less about what she said because you were frozen in place once you realized who you now sat next to. 

Iwaizumi leans a bit too close to you and you press yourself as far as you can into your chair to create some distance. “Are you sure it’s not the other way around and you’re not the one that hates her?” He’s teasing you now, a lazy smile stretching across his face. You scowl, pinching his nose in between your finger- an effective way to get him to shut up. 

“Ow! Alright, alright, I’m just kidding! Let my nose go” His voice comes out nasally and high pitched and you let out a small snicker at how comedic it sounds. You do as he asks, letting him go. 

“I win the argument” You tell him, triumphant look in your eyes. He only rolls his at you, ready to retort when his girlfriend walks in and he shuts up. You immediately open a random book on your table, pretending to be busy as she makes her way to his desk. 

Iwaizumi’s voice is uncharacteristically soft when he speaks to her, greeting her with a smile. “Hey, didn’t expect you to come over today” She leans forward, pressing her lips onto his for a chaste kiss and you bite the inside of your cheek at the gesture. “How could I not?” She says after she pulls away, “I can’t resist my super hot boyfriend” 

He smiles at her words, his hands interlacing with hers. “I’ll see you after volleyball practice today?” His words come out as a question and she nods. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that she’s absolutely smitten with him, excited to see him after his training. She turns to return back to her classroom when the bell rings, kissing Iwaizumi once more but she’s pulled back before she can. 

Iwaizumi gestures to you, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you gonna say bye to [surname]?” 

You’re internally screaming at him, cursing him for his obliviousness. Your fingers tighten around the edges of your book when Iwaizumi kicks you underneath his chair, forcing you to look up. If looks could kill, you would have been dead on sight, judging from how hard she was staring at you. 

Her brown eyes seemed to bore into your skull and you smiled nervously, heart palpitating a little too quickly in your chest. Her voice was sickeningly sweet, a sarcastic smile on her lips as she bid you farewell. “Goodbye, [surname]-san” 

You smile, nodding your head in her direction. Iwaizumi nodded, seemingly satisfied with the less than subpar interaction between the two of you. With one last glance at you, she bent down to press a hard kiss against her boyfriend, leaving you to cough awkwardly, face flushing at the extreme pda in front of you. 

She pulled away, lips red and Iwaizumi looking a little dazed. “Bye, I’ll see you later” She pressed one last kiss to his cheek before turning her attention back to you, bending down so she was eye level. “By the way, your book is upside down” 

Your eyes widened as she walked out of the room, looking down to see that your textbook was indeed flipped around and groaned, falling limp onto your table. Iwaizumi peers over, laughing at your predicament. “Didn’t know you could read upside down” 

You scowl, sitting up straight to flick him in the forehead. “Fuck off asshole” 

x.

“So how’s it going with Iwaizumi as your seatmate?” Matsukawa asks, watching as you hurriedly shove your things into your bag. 

“Absolutely perfect. Yeah, I should be ready to eat glass any day now!” Your snarky reply loses it’s edge when your voice softens as you reach the end of it. “Dude, today she came into class and I’m honestly not sure how he doesn’t see how much she hates me because I swear even the teacher knows!”

Matsukawa snorts at your rant, putting down your hands that had flown into the air to emphasize your point. “C’mon, we all know he’s a little oblivious when it comes to you. The guy hasn’t noticed your giant crush on him for like the past-”

You slap your hand over his mouth, practically jumping out of your seat. “You better not finish your sentence” 

He holds his hands up in surrender and you let your hand fall away. 

“God, can’t the teacher just change my seat again? Who cares about the feng shui or whatever” You sling your backpack onto your shoulder, following Matsukawa’s lead out of the classroom. He only laughs at your jumbled rant, guiding you with a small hand around your wrist so you could avoid the sea of students that had begun to crowd the halls. 

“I’m telling you, she only changed the seats in class because he wanted to watch me suffer and watch something go down in class” You tell him with finality in your voice. 

“Like what?”

You unconsciously grab Matsukawa’s shoulder a little too tight and he winces under your hold when the both of you turn the corner and face Iwaizumi. His face holds a small smile at your surprise stricken expression and the way Matsukawa was beginning to crumple under your grip. “I think you’re about to break his shoulder” 

With a start, you release Matsukawa’s shoulder, a plethora of apologies spilling out your mouth. He lets out a small laugh, rubbing his shoulder and waving you away as you attempt to check him for any more injuries you unconsciously inflicted upon him. 

“So, are you going to tell me what our teacher would want to see ‘go down’ in class?” Iwaizumi asks once more. 

“Oh, you know,” You laugh nervously, elbowing Matsukawa in the ribs so he would help you come up with an excuse. “Just this and that. The class clowns sit next to each other in class now so you already know we’re going to be distracted as hell” 

Matsukawa jerks his body away slightly so you don’t continue putting a bruise onto his already sore ribs. “Yeah, at the rate they laugh at each other’s jokes, it’ll take a whole miracle for us to get through one lesson now” Iwaizumi seems to be pleased with your answer and you relax your body, tension releasing from your shoulders but your relief is short lived when his girlfriend comes out from behind the door and it’s only then that you’ve realized you’re in front of her classroom. 

Ah shit. 

Matsukawa is quick to grab your arm at the sight of her and you both utter nonsense to say farewell, words clashing against each other. Iwaizumi and his girlfriend raise an eyebrow at how you both frantically scramble away, your laughter ringing in the hall while Matsukawa shouted for you to slow down. 

“What was that all about?” She asks, lacing her fingers with his and he shrugs, watching the pair of you disappear down the hall. 

“No idea”

[eyeliner-vampire]

Boys Next Door

a Ghost Hunt short story.

Mai danced around the coffee table, broom in hand and a more than a bit unbalanced. It would have been a disaster if she hadn't decided to leave the full dustpan on the floor while she attempted to move the heavy wood. Well, it was a disaster anyway  — the damned thing! Wouldn't! Move! Her socked feet slid as she pushed and shoved but the table thwarted her.

"Who's idea was it to put you here in the first place?" she mumbled. Really, she could only blame herself. She's spent the last three hours dancing around her apartment, moving this and organizing that - all in the name of feng shui. Why were English apartments so... cluttered? She missed the simple necessity of her apartment in Japan where she left her old faithful kotatsu. At least she could have moved that. Mai breathed a few choice swear words, jumping at the sound of the knock at her door.

"Just a minute!" she called as she leaned the broom against the traitorous table and hopped over the piles of dirt and debris to the front door. On her tiptoes she could only just barely see through the peephole and still she didn't see anyone. Who...?

Mai stepped back and opened the door slowly, peeking around to see if her visitor was standing just out of view. "Hello?"

No one answered. After a minutes pause, Mai stepped back into her apartment, but wait- there was a package. There was a small brown box sitting on her equally brown doormat. No wonder she didn't see it, but when had she ordered something? She picked it up, turning it sideways to read the label in hopes of some type of recognition.

A package from Pratt Laboratory? Nope, no clue. Mai had only moved to London a month ago. She barely knew the name of the closest bakery let alone some laboratory. She scanned the label again. For Oliver Davis. Oh. That explains things. And the address beneath the name was for the apartment just beneath her own. Mai turned to walk back inside, resolving to take the package over later. Then she glanced back at the table  — that good for nothing table  — and changed her mind. Maybe she could ask her neighbor for some help in exchange for her delivery.

It was the perfect plan.

Mai slipped into her shoes and left the door unlocked behind her. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes, right? It would be fine. And one flight of stairs later, she was on the ground floor, package in hand, and knocking on an identical door to her own.

It was quiet inside, no music, no television. She strained her ears but she couldn't even hear anyone talking. Maybe they weren't home?

Then the door swung wide.

"Hey, hello." A guy not much older than herself, stood in the open door. He was tall and willowy and sloping as if his troubles often slid off his shoulders.

"Oh, um, hi"  — Mai gestured the small box towards him  — "Oliver Davis?"

"Gene, actually," he said but reached for the box anyway. "That damn postman always gets the address wrong." He offered her a toothy smile that Mai didn't return. At her questioning glance he added, "Noll is my brother."

"Noll?" She tried the unfamiliar word.

"Oliver." Gene affirmed.

"Those are not the same."

Gene laughed. "Noll is a nickname for Oliver. Dumb, I know," he said raising his hands, "but oddly fitting. You must be our neighbor then, Mrs...?"

"Taniyama Mai," she said, brightening. "I live upstairs."

"Upstairs, huh. That's a new one. But you're 100% an upgrade from dear old Mrs. Norris." He laughed, eyeing the door across the hall. "Well, hey, since you came all the way here, why don't you... come have a drink?"

Mai laughed, too. She couldn't help it. "I actually have to get back," she said, pointing to the ceiling, "but I was wondering if you wouldn't mind accompanying me? It is a long journey afterall."

Gene raised his eyebrows.

"I have a table that is in dire need of relocation," Mai quickly added. "If you wouldn't mind, of course." She felt a heat rising in her cheeks.

"Oh," he said and looked relieved. "I would love to — "

"Gene." Gene's voice barked from behind them. Gene turned quickly, revealing a very similar willowy figure in the apartment hallway. "Luella is asking about Lauren."

Mai gawked. How could two people look so similar.

"Tell her I'll call her back."

Not-Gene crossed the space, shaking his head. Into the phone he said, "Yes, Luella, he is right here."

Gene frowned, taking the proffered phone. "Hi Luella! Just one second." He turned to Mai, offering an apologetic smile. "Looks like I'll need a rain check."

"Oh, no worries!" Mai whispered, waving him off. "Whenever you're free — "

"Don't be silly," he said, pushing his brother into the doorway. "Noll can help you."

Noll whipped around. "No, I can't— "

"Yes, Lauren is great." Gene said loudly into the phone. He pushed Noll out with the door, closing it firmly behind him. Mai could still hear his exaggerated conversation on the other side.

Up close, she could see the differences. Where Gene was sloping, Noll was sharp. Efficient. If troubles slid off Gene they landed on Noll.

"You live upstairs?" It was startling, hearing Gene's voice accompany such a sullen expression.

"Oh," Mai forced a smile, backtracking to the stairs. "Yes. I have a table I need help moving— "

"I heard." He said, walking around her.

She watched him ascend the stairs. "If you heard that then why ask — hey!" He tried her handle and the unlocked door opened.

"You really shouldn't leave your door unlocked." He called, disappearing inside.

Mai raced up the stairs. "I was only going downstairs!"

Noll shrugged. "Anyone could have snuck in during the three minutes you were chatting up Gene."

"Chatting up?" she questioned, cheeks still hot. "I wasn't chatting anyone up... do you really think someone came in?" She glanced sheepishly around, eyeing the numerous hiding spots.

"Maybe."

Damn it.

"Is this what you're trying to move?" Noll pointed down at the squat table, broom still keeping guard.

Mai nodded. "If you could just move it over there."

He leaned down, picking up one side and pausing. He looked expectant. "Aren't you going to help?"

Mai mocked him. "You mean you can't move it either?"

He didn't rise to her bait. Sighing, Mai trudged over and took up the other side. Together they moved it into the adjoining room where it was much better suited.

"Thanks," she said, catching her breath. "That would have taken me days."

Noll didn't say anything but headed for the door.

"Wait." she called and he paused halfway out the door. "Would you... mind staying while I check for burglars?"

To her surprise, Noll didn't mock her. He crossed his arms and stood sentry in the entryway. "Go on."

"You promise you won't leave?"

"I will not."

Relieved, Mai smiled. He might have looked tough, but the guy wasn't all that bad. "Thanks."

"Hurry up."

Never mind.

(thanks to @seoulsborne123 for the inspiration)

[captainmarvels]

wicked games [21]

Summary: It’s your first night together after weeks apart, and Tom pulls out all the stops to make you feel welcome. Is it the start of a new beginning, or will it not be enough?

Pairing: CEO!Tom Holland x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3397

A/N: we’re back! enjoy this tooth-rotting, sweet sweet fluff because y’all have no idea what @thorsxodinson and i have in store for y’all :) and stop asking for updates, thx

masterlist | tag list - add yourself!

(gif by @bens-hardy )

If someone asked you how you were feeling at that moment, you’d probably describe how your anxiety was scaling your mind and body as if they were Mount Everest, digging deeper and entrenching itself in the sanctity of your peace.

Or what was left of it.

It was 6:01 on a Saturday morning, and you had been staring at the ceiling of your old bedroom for the past thirty minutes. 

Today was “move back in” day, and every nerve in your body was engulfed in flames.

You weren’t sure what exactly was riling up your anxiety - was it the fact that you were finally going to share a bedroom with the man you’d loved for so long? Or the fact that you were overwhelmingly terrified of what living together would do to you? 

Especially right after patching things up.

Tom said he and Harrison would be at the apartment at 7:30am to help you carry your things down to the car, and you felt bad about saying no. 

You had only left with a few bags the night you stormed out of Tom’s apartment, but in the short time you had been with Maggie, you accumulated quite a number of things.

“Hey numb nut, need any help?” Thinking of the devil, she appeared at your doorway, hair pulled back in a messy bun, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the doorframe.

You flipped her off, groaning quietly as you sat up and looked at her.

“Didn’t think you’d be up so early, Mags,” You said in a tired voice. She shrugged.

“Thought it was best if I was there when the two idiot white boys showed up,” She said, grinning wide as you rolled your eyes.

“I’m just gonna shower and then pack up my bathroom stuff. You mind moving all that to the living room, at least?” You pointed at the duffel bag and set of boxes stacked neatly in the corner of the room across from your bed.

“Anything for you, my lovely dipshit.”

The apartment buzzer rang at exactly 7:30, and you were glad to see that a certain someone was already keeping their word.

A few moments later, a loud rap sounded on the door, and you could hear two faint British voices outside.

“Good morning,” Harrison said as you opened the door, his hands toying with his hair. Tom was next to him, and he flashed you a small smile as you locked eyes with him.

Harrison crossed the threshold and greeted Maggie, leaving the two of you rooted in place.

“Good morning,” Tom whispered, closing the short distance between you as he reached out and gently cupped your cheek.

“Hi,” You said under your breath, smiling as you leaned into his touch.

“Oi, we can’t do all the heavy lifting for you!” Harrison called out, and both you and Tom started to laugh.

“Bugger off mate, we’ll get to it!”

There was no need for goodbyes, as you and Maggie had plans for that weekend. Pulling up to the skyscraper of an apartment building, it only took a few minutes before Harrison left after helping Tom carry your things up into the apartment, but not before telling you he would be expecting an invitation for drinks after work soon. 

You dropped down onto the massive couch, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment before you opened them again.

“When did you redecorate the living room?”

The sofa, which once faced the built in fireplace and massive flat screen TV, was now sitting across from the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked New York.

The TV now sat on a marble stand, which was also adorned with small succulents. 

As you glanced behind you, you notice massive bookcases now stood where the TV once was. Potted plants sat at the very top, their vines creeping down the sides of the shelves. A few picture frames stood out to you - they were all photos of Tom, either with his mother or Harrison. None of his father or his brothers. 

What surprised you the most was a frame on the center shelf, with a photo of you and him from Mary’s gala fundraiser. It was one of the few candid photos from that night - you were sitting on Tom’s lap, laughing at something an out-of-frame Harrison and Mary had said; Tom had one hand on your thigh, the other holding a hidden glass of scotch. The look on his face is what caught your eye. His gaze, focused on you, and his lips curled up in a smile, eyes enamoured with what lay before him.

It never occurred to you how sentimental he could be.

As your gaze scanned over the room, you noticed how empty the bar was. The glass shelves underneath the marble countertop were now sporting what appeared to be a variety of ceramic, handmade plates and wine glasses. Rich people’s version of fancy china?

Tom came in from the kitchen, breaking you away from your thoughts as he rounded the couch and handed you a warm mug, filled to the brim with your favorite tea.

“Mary went on this whole rant about feng shui and whatnot, and suggested I redecorate to help clear my head,” He gestured aimlessly at the space around you.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day you break away from your black and white monochromatic aesthetic, Tom,” You said, giggling when he gently swatted at your knee.

“The greenery is a nice change, I will admit. Besides,” He leaned back against the sofa cushions, bringing his own mug to his lips. “I should be admiring this view more often.”

He gave you a sly wink as he took a sip of coffee. Before you could say anything, the apartment buzzer rang.

“I can get that,” You said, setting your mug down on the new coffee table before heading out to the hallway.

“I don’t even know who that could be, I wasn’t planning on-” Tom stopped in his tracks as you opened the door, revealing the last person he wanted as a guest.

“Mary!”

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

You shot Tom a dirty look over your shoulder, quietly scoffing as you walked into Mary’s embrace.

“I missed you, you little bugger,” She whispered in your ear, smiling cheekily as you pulled away. 

“A little bird named Haz informed me of a visitor, so I thought I’d come and harass you! Not everything is about you, Stanley,” She stepped into the foyer, her heels clicking against the marble floors as she made a beeline for the kitchen. As you shut the door, you could hear Tom muttering under his breath.

“Can you put your temper tantrum on pause for now? I don’t need to deal with a whiny Tom at this moment,” You said as you took his hand in yours, squeezing gently.

Tom’s jaw dropped, eyes wide as you led him out of the hall.

Mary was sitting at the island bar, swirling a glass of red wine.

“Harrison suggested I pop by in case you needed help unpacking and all that jazz,” 

“Actually, that sounds like a great idea! I assume I have you to thank for getting this one to change up the living room?” You were standing across from Mary, your hands resting on the counter. Tom was standing behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist. You could practically hear him rolling his eyes as you spoke.

“Yes, and you are very welcome for that,” Mary winked as she downed all the wine in her glass in one go. She leaned over just enough to set the glass down in the sink before rising from her chair. 

“Just make sure not to water the plants; they’re fake, since this one can’t keep anything alive, apparently,” 

“Not true!” Tom shouted after her as Mary walked into the living room. You tried to stifle your laughter as best you could, but you couldn’t help it as you followed the dysfunctional pair out the door.

“Thomas, Haz and I bought you a cactus to practice with and you killed it in less than two weeks! You have to actively try to murder it for that to happen!” 

“How did you manage that?” You asked, glancing over at him as he buried his head in his hands.

“I thought cacti didn’t need water!” He answered exasperatedly, his words muffled by his hands. 

“They need some, you buffoon,” You rubbed his back as he replied with a loud groan.

“Anyways, shall we get started with the unpacking? I’m sure you have loads of things you want to have in here?” Mary stood up from her seat, smoothing out her dress.

“I think I do! I can go grab the box; I made sure to organize everything so I could unpack faster,” You flashed her a quick smile as you headed to your new room; once the door closed behind you, Mary turned to face Tom.

“I noticed you put up the photo I sent. Glad to see you’re trying, Holland.” 

Tom looked up at her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You’re… complimenting me? That’s a first,”

“I’m trying out this new thing - it’s called being nice, y’know? Not that you deserve my kindness in any way but, it’s better than nothing. Just don’t fuck up, alright?”

Tom scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back. 

“Believe me, I’m trying not to.”

A few hours later, and the apartment was finally starting to reflect a mix of your and Tom’s personalities. 

A few colorful throw pillows now decorated the couches in the living room, and your favorite coasters - sporting hand painted elephants - now sat on the coffee and dining room tables. 

Your clothes now lined half of Tom’s personal walk-in closet; it was the size of a bedroom, and you were still surprised your clothing had managed to take up so much space.

After storing your duffel bag in a drawer, you leaned back against the dresser and took in the room before you.

The bed, once covered in a multitude of shades of black, was now brightened up with a simple red throw blanket strewn across the silky duvet, with adorning red floral pillows to match.

Hung up on the wall to the right of the bed were a series of framed photographs that you had taken over the last few months. Your favorite was intricately placed in the middle - a photo of you and Tom that you’d forgotten about until you sent the photos to print. Harrison had taken it one random night; the two of you were on the sofa, all wrapped up in one another. Your hand was near Tom’s face, as if you were trying to cover his mouth because of something he’d said. Your head was thrown back in laughter, eyes shut tight from joy. Tom was grinning widely, his eyes focused on you while his hands rested gently on your legs that lay across his lap.

The sound of the bedroom door opening pulled you out of your memories, your lips still curled up in a smile as Tom walked in, a single rose in hand.

You met him halfway, tilting your head to the side just a bit as Tom cupped your cheek once you were within arm's reach.

“I have a question,” He said quietly, his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“And?” You answered, your eyes fluttering shut as the pad of his thumb swept across your skin.

“I know you just moved in but… I was thinking, we could… well, I was thinking I could take you out on a date. Dinner, a movie; whatever you’d like to do.” 

Tom’s hand dropped from your face to rest on your hip, his eyes meeting yours for a moment as you processed his words.

“As long as you promise that it won’t be bland British food,” You both broke out in laughter as Tom pulled you closer to him, your breaths mixing together as you looked at one another.

“I missed your cheekiness, darling,” He whispered, grinning as you grew flustered at his words.

“Well there’s more where that came from then,” You quipped, rolling your eyes as you felt him squeeze your waist.

Before letting you go, Tom leaned in and said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I may or may not have picked something out for you to wear.” 

Taking your hand in his, he led you to massive dressing room down the hall. He opened the door and stepped to the side, gesturing for you to enter first.

Nothing could have prepared you for what was waiting inside.

As the recess lighting brightened up the room, you were met with what appeared to be hundreds of bouquets, burying the floor underneath your feet as you walked inside. 

Roses, tulips, calla lilies, hydrangeas, and daisies sat all around the room; vases perched in between the ball gowns on display, on the shelves amongst all the dressed up high heels, and on just about every other surface and available space you could think of. 

Something else caught your eye as you took in what was in front of you; a lone clothing rack in the middle of the room, with a burgundy dress hung up on it. 

You made your way towards it, your eyes and jaw wide open from amazement. Laying a hand on the dress, you realized it was made of a silk-satin blend material; there was a large sash wrapped around the middle, tied in an elegant bow that hit right at the waist.

“Wow…” You whispered, your mind glazed over from all the shock you were still wading through.

“I take it you like it?” Tom asked as he walked up behind you.

You turned around and faced him, gently shaking your head as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I really don’t know what to say,” You replied, your words still laced with surprise. 

“No need to say anything, sweetheart. I’ll wait for you in the living room, okay?” He squeezed your shoulders gently as he stepped back. 

Before he took another step, you took his hand in yours and sweetly kissed one of his knuckles.

The small token of gratitude stunned Tom, leaving him speechless as he simply flashed you a smile before leaving you alone.

Baby steps.

Smoothing over the silk material now adorning your figure, you looked at yourself once more in the mirror before finally heading out to meet Tom.

You found him pacing back and forth in the foyer, hands tucked in the pockets of his tailored suit. He heard you coming down the hall, the loud sound of your heels clicking down the marble floors captivated his attention.

“Even better than I thought it would be,” He said, chuckling lowly when you gently smacked his arm. 

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, Holland,” You smiled sarcastically as he playfully rolled his eyes.

“Don’t sass me too much, love. You know I won’t be able to handle it,” Before you could respond, he clasped his hand in yours and led you to the elevator.

“Let’s get this show on the road, yeah?”

Before you knew it, the night was coming to an end.

Tom had made a reservation for the two of you at one of your favorite restaurants in the city; so high up in the building, you had a gorgeous view of the city lights. 

After a filling dinner, the server brought out a gorgeous, well adorned slice of cake for you to share. Tom generously let you have the last bite, but not after a fair match of rock, paper, scissors. 

Stepping out into the cool New York air, the two of you walked in sync to your favorite place - the bookshop.

You roamed aimlessly throughout the overflowing shelves, your fingers trailing over the old, worn out covers that were hoping to tell you a story. Tom was lost in a fantasy world of his own when you finally found him among the stacks.

“Good read?” You asked, flashing him a small smile as he nodded.

“And it looks like you’ve found quite a few, too” He glanced at the stack of books you were hugging to your chest. 

“What can I say? I’ll never get enough.”

You were standing in the living room, filling an empty shelf with all the softcovers you brought home from the bookshop. As you finished ordering them by genre, you felt two arms snake their way around your waist, hands clasping at your mid-section while an all-too familiar face appeared over your shoulder.

“All done?” Tom whispered in your ear. You nodded, resting your hands on his as you leaned into him just a bit.

“Then let’s go to bed, love.”

Taking his hand, you followed Tom to your bedroom, where you found a cozy, candle-lit space waiting for you.

He was already dressed in his own pajamas; satin pants hanging low off his hips, and a simple black t-shirt that fit him a little too well.

“Do you always to be well dressed everywhere you go?” You giggled when he shrugged.

“Maybe. Now go change,” He said, throwing a pillow at you as he pulled back the duvet and top sheet from his side of the bed.

Laughing, you jokingly flipped him off as you tossed the pillow back on the bed, and grabbed a nightgown off the dresser next to you.

Stepping out of the bathroom, changed and ready for bed, you couldn’t help but giggle when you found Tom sitting up in bed, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, his eyes focused on the pages before him.

“Well hello, Grandpa,” You said in between giggles, your eyes slowly watering as you tried to catch your breath. Tom looked at you over the rim of his frames, eyes narrowing for a brief moment before he joined in on your laughter.

“Even when you poke fun at me, I am still absolutely in love with you, darling.”

You were leaning against the wall, and you rolled your eyes playfully as you put a hand over your heart.

“When did you get so soft?” 

As you climbed into bed, Tom set down his book and glasses on his nightstand, shutting off the light before turning to face you.

“Maybe you just didn’t notice before, bug,”

You scrunched up your nose at the pet name.

“No bug?”

You shook your head no, pulling the covers over your head.

“No goodnight kiss then?” You peeked at him, giggling once more when you saw the pouty look on his face.

“Only because you look cute when you’re sad,” You said.

“That’s a little sadistic, don’t you think?”

“You want a kiss or not?” 

Tom laughed, shaking his head as he leaned down, cupping your cheek as he kissed you softly. The pad of his thumb brushed over your lips as he pulled away, his forehead still pressed against yours.

“Goodnight, my love.”

“Sweet dreams, bug.”

Rubbing his eyes awake, Tom glanced over at the clock on his nightstand. 

4:07 a.m.

Shit.

Slowly pulling off the covers, he slipped off the bed without disturbing you. Glancing back at you as he opened the bedroom door, he couldn’t help but smile before shutting the door behind him.

His phone was still sitting on the counter in the kitchen where he’d forgotten it.

After setting the coffee maker to brew, he scrolled through the notifications waiting for him.

Mary Shithead: Call me when you get the chance

Mary Shithead: I’ll be up all night because why the fuck not?

Rolling his eyes, Tom pulled up her contact info and hit “call”.

“What a surprise. Why you up, Stanley?”

“Why did you want me to call?”

“Just wanted to ask how your date went, sheesh. Remember, I’m trying to be ‘nice’ or whatever?”

Tom laughed sarcastically.

“Yeah, ‘whatever’. It went well. Made me realize just how much I really missed her,”

“Gross, Stanley! You are in love, huh? What does that feel like?” Mary’s words seemed to catch him off guard.

And yet, the words that rolled off his tongue seemed to capture just about all he was thinking.

“Like everything I’ve ever lost, come back to me.”

tags, part 1:

@cherrynat @anytimebitches @joyfullyje @jobean12-blog @emotchalla @enigma-xlii @illletitgrow @cloverrover @lovelyttom @justaveryobsessedfangirl @ssweet-empowerment @killmongerdreams @spideytrxsh @eyestheyseeyou @aussie-mantle @spidergirlwanab @i-think-i-am-adorable @amanda51015-blog @princessskylarsblog @whoneedsalifeanyhowxx @chinalois @clairesrainbow @darkerthanspace @slighttinsomniac @curlytomholland @wanderlustomaha @hollandazing @mendes-marvel @wowspideyholland​

[purplesurveys]

777

do you think weird it's for someone to have never tried soda? I’d be surprised that they were never curious enough to try it if they can access soda, but then again I live in a third world country and not everyone gets to try everything. I’ve learned to judge less when it comes to opportunities like this. is there any foreign film you recommend? Portrait of a Lady on Fire was fucking intense and so, so so good. do you have the same religious beliefs as your parents? My dad might also be atheist, but I’ve never known for sure. He once confided in me that he was atheist in college but “it changed” when he met my mom... but honestly we’ve always grunted the same way whenever my mom tells us it’s time to pray or if we have to watch our weekly mass livestream. So idk. I think he just acts Catholic to appease her, but yeah he’s definitely weird about it. which floor of your house/building are you on now? Second floor. It’s my first time to want to hang out in my bedroom in months because IT’S ACTUALLY RAINING and it’s cold enough in my room to wanna stay here. are there any maps hanging in your room? No maps here.

are you often a third wheel? or is someone a third wheel to you? Yep I third wheel pretty often. My girlfriend and I study in different schools and I have friends in my school who are couples, so if Gab isn’t visiting my campus for the day I just tag along with my couple friends. I don’t get bothered or feel insecure by it because I have my own relationship lolol what's the last dvd you bought? Holy shit...DVD? I don’t even remember anymore. It was most likely an Audrey Hepburn film, back in 2013 when I was really into her. That or Beyoncé’s Life Is But A Dream documentary, which was the last thing she ever released on DVD. Also came out in 2013. tell me about your favorite pair of jeans. High-waisted 90s-styled jeans. Nothing much to say other than they fit me well, I got a lot of compliments whenever I have them on, and they match any t-shirt I paired with, which made me like wearing t-shirts again haha. would you ride a motorcycle if given the chance? (or have you?) I would but only if someone super experienced was driving. I haven’t been on one because my parents don’t allow me to, and tbh I don’t mind the rule because I’m mostly scared of motorcycles anyway. is your hair healthy? No. Some hair salon I went to around ten years ago put some cheap products in my hair when I had it rebonded and it never felt 100% healthy again. Until today it gets very stiff when it gets into contact with water and only shampoo, and I always have to pair it with conditioner. if a hotel offered free breakfast in bed, what would you order? Eggs Benedict and some very creamy warm coffee. how often do you take a train? Never. I don’t trust the public transport here and I’m better off driving in my own car. what are your thoughts on reincarnation? (have you ever read up about it?) I don’t think of it at all because I don’t believe in it. I don’t mind others who are into it, just don’t shove it down my throat.  what's your favorite led zeppelin song? I don’t have one. does your home have a balcony/deck/porch? Yeah we have a balcony. We used to have a full balcony, but we transformed 3/4 of it into my brother’s current room a few years ago because he was starting to grow up and he needed his own room. We retained 1/4 of the space so that it can be the place where my dog can still do his business. what does your closet/wardrobe say about you? It says I am a very messy person who can’t keep her closet consistently organized lol. It will also tell you I’m quite girly based on the clothes I own. do you enjoy theatre? I was never a fan. how would you feel about traveling abroad alone? If I was offered the chance to do it I certainly wouldn’t give it up, but I really, really, preferably would travel with at least one companion. Traveling is one of those experiences I’d want to share with someone, and I would hate if I had to go back to my hotel room at the end of the day with no one to talk to. who would you call a lyrical genius? Laura Jane Grace. how do you treat yourself? My go-to gift for myself is giving into my cravings hahaha. Nothing speaks more to me than food, and if I feel like I deserve a reward for a job well done, I’ll go to a slightly more expensive restaurant to celebrate. do you have an interesting passport? Idk, it’s a normal one and I never had it customized or anything. are you going to pursue a career according to what you enjoy? I hope I get to. I really enjoyed my PR internship and I’d love to be headed there. what happens to your old clothes? They go to the very back or the very bottom of my wardrobe for the most part. My mom will make us throw out clothes we don’t like anymore once a year, so that’s the time I get to get rid of them. what's your favorite frozen treat? Cornetto ice cream is one of my faaaaavorite comfort snacks. The end of the cone where they save chocolate chunks is the best part. who supports you financially? My parents. Getting increasingly guiltier about it by the day, too. if you wanted to go to the movie cinema, how would you get there? I would wait for the clock to strike midnight tonight, because in 48 minutes they’ll finally loosen lockdown rules AND I CAN FINALLY GO OUT. Hahaha. After that I’ll jump to my car, drive out of the village, take a u-turn, and I’m there. how many pillows are on your bed? Two big ones. would you pay more for organic food? Only if I had the money for it. Organic food is a thing of the (very) privileged here and is not very accessible to begin with, unless you’re in posher grocieries. have you ever had a crush on a sibling's friend or a friend's sibling? I haven’t. I’d find it weird considering they’re all a bit younger than me. do you have a friend who mooches? what to do about it? (or is it you?) She’s never done it with me but I’ve heard enough horror stories about her to know that she tends to do this, but yeah Mils is apparently quite the moocher. I’m soooo not one; I’d wait for my friends to offer to pay for stuff, but otherwise I’m fighting them over the bill lmao. do you know much about feng shui? (do you use it?) I’m not knowledgeable on it but I’m definitely familiar with it, because we have a rather large Filipino-Chinese community/culture in the country that glorifies feng shui during Chinese New Year season. I don’t really have a choice but have Chinese culture shoved down my throat whether it’s in the news, the media, or my Chinese friends.  how would you make friends in a quiet class? I preferably wouldn’t because I’m only interested in getting good grades and getting that class over with hahaha. But if I was interested in making a friend or two, I’d typically scan the classroom and see who seems to be responsible? Like if they take notes as hard as I do. are you generally a quick learner? No. I take some time, and I especially take long if the thing being taught is more hands-on, like origami. I’ve just never been good at following certain tasks, and I prefer learning from reading instructions. what's your favorite spot to read? Skywalk or the dining table. has anyone given you a nickname you didn't like? (what was it?) Not that I can recall. I’m okay with all of them. did you know that buddha is not considered a god to buddhists? Yes. do you save tickets from movies, etc.? If it’s a significant enough date or event, sure. I’ve kept my 2018 Paramore gig ticket to this day, but like I’ve thrown out my ticket for Knives Out because I hated the movie lol. without looking him up, who was jim morrison? Vocalist for The Doors. when's the last time your bedroom was painted/wallpapered? Idk, 2006 or 2007 when the house was being made? It’s never been repainted. teach me something in another language. (not french/chinese/german/arabic) Why so language-ist lmaooooooo uh “Nakauwi ka na?” means “Did you get home? / Have you gotten home?” what type of body wash did you last use? Idk, I never read the labels on it actually. what type of music do you like and why? Right now I’m into lo-fi because it makes me feel relaxed, but I’m also starting to get into the recent trend where today’s artists put out songs that sound like they’re from the 80s, like Dua Lipa’s Physical or The Weeknd’s Blinding Lights - I think the genre is called synth pop/synthwave. They simply sound cool haha and they’re awesome to listen to while driving. if you randomly want to eat something in the house, do you eat it or wait? I check the time, like if we’re supposed to be having dinner soon, then act accordingly. who knows the most about you (besides yourself)? My girlfriend. do you have a nervous habit? (e.g. biting nails, tapping feet, smoking) Plucking eyebrow or eyelash hair, but that behavior is reserved for extreme cases where I’m incredibly and inconsolably anxious. On a milder day I would vape, sigh a lot, or bite my nails. how's your favorite pro sports team doing lately? I don’t watch sports with teams. would you be/are you a good role model to a younger sibling? I don’t get into trouble but I’m not the best influence either.

[chloebeale]

GOING CRAZY WHEN I’M WITH YOU

For @bechloe-week day 2: Co-Workers.

Beca isn’t trusted to recommend new people to her hiring manager after Amy’s time with the company turned disastrous, so when the girl she’s dating wants to apply, they decide they’ll be “strangers” during working hours.

I’d like to thank the academy and also @isthemusictoblame for kicking my ass into writing this. (There is no academy, just Theresa)

(Read below or on ao3)

WORDS: 4,401 | RATING: M

Why, Beca thinks to herself as she sheds her trusty leather jacket in the office of her regular, day-to-day job -- if working for a highly esteemed record label can be considered regular or day-to-day, anyway -- is she so nervous? It’s not like it’s her first day on the job. Beca has been working here for what seems like a lifetime now. In reality, it has been two years, but she took to the position like a moth to a flame, and she hasn’t looked back since.

Work is... Work. It’s work. Beca is passionate about it, she enjoys it, and she does her job well. There are big names and famous faces walking through that door every single day, and save for the occasional inner fangirl moment, she always manages to remain entirely professional, she never loses her cool.

(And if you were to ask Beca Mitchell, she’s totally cool.)

But today, her blue-gray eyes remain fixed on the doorway to the office she knows like the back of her hand, to the point where coworkers have begun to give her questioning looks, with one even going out of their way to ask her if everything’s okay. Beca has simply shaken them off, told them she didn’t sleep very well last night and she’s a little out of it, but that’s not true.

Well, the lack of sleep is. But Beca has a whole other reason to be acting the way she is. It all started about a year ago now, when one Patricia “Fat Amy” Hobart made her grand entrance into the company...

[ REWIND! ]

---

“Beca,” Mr. Pritchard begins, his hands clasped one on top of the other atop his (admittedly very disorganized) office desk. “I know you mean well, and you really are a valued member of this team, but I’m afraid I just can’t give your friend anymore chances.”

When she’d pushed for her management to give the open office assistant position to her roommate, Beca knew she’d been taking something of a risk. But she and Amy live in the city, they have rent to pay, and it was clear Amy was never going to look for work on her own. Two paychecks would’ve improved their circumstances significantly. They’d had only two months of living in what Beca considered true luxury (rent paid on time, bills taken care of and a little money still left over? Luxury.) before Amy had been dismissed from the company, a whole trail of reasons why. And it seems that no amount of pleading on Beca’s part is going to change anybody’s mind about the decision to let the blonde go.

“Now, I’m not saying it’s your fault, and of course I can’t discuss another staff member’s dismissal with you, but I really think the best thing for you to do now is to focus on your job, and to leave the hiring to me.”

Beca wants to fight, to try just one more time to beg Mr. Pritchard to give her roommate just one more chance, but she knows this is a losing battle, and considering the long list of reasons Amy is no longer employed -- the state of the desk before her just one of many -- she knows her insistence will only continue in vain.

“Okay, Mr. Pritchard,” the brunette eventually gives in through a small, stifled sigh, “I understand. Um, about my friend Stacie wanting to apply...”

The manager shoots her a look, and Beca simply hangs her head.

Focus on her job and leave the hiring to them. Beca has got the message.

---

And that memory, Beca realizes, is why she’s so damn nervous.

But she doesn’t have to be. She really doesn’t have to be, because she and Chloe have gone over this a million times now. Sure, they may be low-key dating, and sure, sparks may be flying already between the two, but here, at work, they don’t know one another. They’re total and complete strangers, because Beca is not allowed to meddle with the hiring process anymore, not since her first and last recommendation turned out so disastrously.

(Truth be told, Amy really didn’t do anything too terrible, at least in Beca’s opinion. Showing up late, making personal calls from the manager’s desk, rearranging his entire office because the feng shui just wasn’t right... All forgivable. Entirely unprofessional, of course, but still forgivable.)

But when the perfect job opportunity had opened up, and Chloe had looked at her with those big, pleading eyes, the ones that Beca could get lost in for hours and completely forget who or where she really was, it had been impossible to say no to her. It’s not like Beca recommended her, nor did she have anything to do with the hiring process -- Chloe landed the position all on her own merit -- but the two of them being acquainted, especially as closely as they are, just won’t sit right with Mr. Pritchard. It’ll be the Fat Amy fiasco all over again, as far as he’s concerned, so she and her maybe-girlfriend-but-really-person-she-hasn’t-actually-had-that-conversation-with-yet have decided they’ll play pretend while on office hours, at least for now. They’ll be perfect strangers, they’ll do their jobs and nobody will know anything different.

Much like a watched pot that never boils, Beca has averted her gaze from the doorway for a fraction of a second when it suddenly swings open, Mr. Pritchard’s hand pressed to the glass as he holds it still for his newest hire to make her way inside.

“And this is where you’ll be working,” Mr. Pritchard says, proud smile on his weathered face as he follows Chloe into the room, door closing quietly behind them.

It’s not uncommon for Chloe Beale to enter a room and Beca’s heart to all but stop beating. She can’t tell this time, however, whether it’s because her maybe-girlfriend has taken her breath away the way she usually does, or because this is officially the beginning of their act. And Beca Mitchell is no actress, so this really will be a test of her own non-abilities.

It’s with sheer force that Beca manages to pull her gaze away from the redhead, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that her mouth is on the verge of hanging open. As Mr. Pritchard begins to walk Chloe around the office, though, introducing her to each on-shift staff member, Beca allows herself one more look the other girl’s way.

Chloe always looks beautiful. But today, with her auburn hair hung in precise ringlet curls, that gray pencil skirt that hugs her figure perfectly, those heels... Man, those heels. Chloe looks incredible, and it’s so hard for Beca not to stare.

Of course, there’s so much more to Chloe Beale than just the way she looks. Beca appreciates every aspect of the other woman. Her mind is astonishing, it’s so deep and so different, unlike anything Beca has ever experienced before. She looks at the world in the most interesting light, and she has broadened Beca’s views so immensely already that--

“Ah, Beca. This is our new office assistant, Chloe.”

Mr. Pritchard’s introduction cuts into Beca’s thoughts, the ones where she’s practically drooling over the idea of the woman standing before her who she’s supposed to act like she doesn’t know and has never actually met before, and Beca jumps slightly on the spot.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Becky,” Chloe chirps, extending her hand politely. Already, the redhead is proving a much better actress than Beca is, though the undeniable sparkle to her crystal blue eyes, the way her lips are turned upward the smallest fraction at one corner, would likely give her away if anybody else knew the truth.

“Yeah, you too,” Beca responds as coolly as possible, though her pitch does rise just a small amount on the second word, but Beca dismisses it with a swift cough and a clear of her throat, and Mr. Pritchard doesn’t seem to notice. Beca notices the way Chloe bites down gently onto her lower lip, though, and she can just picture that familiar smirk the other girl is desperately holding back. “It’s Beca. But I mean, Beca, Becky... Whatever.”

“My apologies, Beca.”

She’ll get her back for that later, she decides.

---

They really haven’t been very lucky with office assistants. There have been two since Amy, neither a very good fit for the company, but it seems that Chloe is slotting in perfectly already. By lunchtime, she has already sprung some idea on Mr. Pritchard that Beca doesn’t quite understand just yet -- but she’ll ask Chloe about later -- and he has loudly professed how much he loves her enthusiasm.

The room is only half as full as it had been earlier, with a few people still out on their lunch breaks, so Beca allows herself a moment to steal a glance toward Chloe. She’s sitting at her newly assigned work station, typing away on her computer, and looking every bit a member of the team. To say that Beca feels proud is an understatement, and she really wishes she could brag about the other girl to anyone who feels like listening, but she knows she can’t, and she’s okay with it. Beca has never been one for PDA, anyway. She’s just... Proud. Understandably so.

A part of her wants to catch Chloe’s eye, but she knows that’s dangerous, because Beca doesn’t do very well at hiding her own blush, and she’s sure her cheeks would darken at least three shades if the two of them were to make eye contact.

There’s a soft ‘Ping!’ from her computer’s iMessage application, and Beca realizes she’s saved, quite literally, by the bell.

Chloe, 1:34 PM: I know you’re watching me, Becky 😉

Chloe, 1:34 PM: Don’t you have work to do?

And there they go, Beca’s cheeks heating up beneath the soft layer of foundation lightly covering her face. Her lips purse to keep herself from grinning.

Beca, 1:36 PM: What can I say, Cleo. You’re distracting.

Chloe’s soft, unmistakable giggle sounds, though Beca keeps her eyes on her screen, watching the three dots as Chloe types her response.

Chloe, 1:37 PM: Cleo? That’s just pushing it. I think just one of us getting the other’s name wrong will do for now.

Beca, 1:38 PM: Maybe.

Chloe, 1:40 PM: How do you think I’m doing? I feel like it’s going well, but you know these people better than I do. Do you think they hate me yet?

Beca, 1:42 PM: Are you kidding? I don’t think it’s possible for anybody to hate you. And you heard Pritchard earlier, he’s already singing your praises. You’re doing great, Chlo.

Chloe, 1:43 PM: Thank you. Here’s hoping!

Chloe, 1:43 PM: How is your day going? It’s weird being in the same room as you and not talking.

Beca, 1:44 PM: It’s weird being in the same room as you and not touching.

Finally, Beca dares herself to steal another quick glance the other girl’s way, and she sees the way Chloe’s perfectly painted lips are turned upward all over again.

Chloe, 1:46 PM: I know. Mr. Pritchard did show me a perfectly good closet during the tour earlier. The one where all of the filing is kept.

There’s a grin on Beca’s lips as she types her own response, her eyes rolling playfully.

Beca, 1:47 PM: You’re ridiculous.

Chloe, 1:48 PM: I know, I’m kidding.

Chloe, 1:49 PM: I do have some filing to do, though...

Beca freezes up momentarily. Is that a hint? She’s about to ask when she sees the other girl from the corner of her eye rising from her seat. Chloe flashes a charming smile toward one of their coworkers as she passes him by, and at first, she doesn’t make eye contact with Beca. Not until she reaches the door, anyway.

“Um, I’m sorry, I know you’re really busy, but do you think you could show me where to find the bathroom, Becky?”

Gray eyes shoot upward, locking instantly with blue. She shifts her stare briefly around the room, though nobody is batting an eyelid, before fixating it quickly back on Chloe. There’s that charming smile on her face still, it hasn’t faltered even slightly, and against her better judgment, Beca finds herself standing from her seat.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Beca nods, brushing a chunk of mousy hair behind her ear as she makes her way toward the door, the one Chloe has already opened and is standing expectantly beside. “It’s Beca.”

“Oh, sorry. First day, still learning everybody’s names!”

There’s a silence surrounding the two as they exit the room, and while Beca has her doubts, she finds herself trailing along behind the other girl.

“We’re not going to the bathroom, are we?” She questions, brow arching as she keeps up with the redhead’s pace.

Chloe’s answer is simple and bright, it’s chirpy and enthusiastic, every bit the friendly new coworker, “Nope!”

It’s almost ridiculous, the things Beca will do when it comes to Chloe. She takes her job seriously, and she would never do anything to jeopardize it.

...Except have her maybe-girlfriend start working there without her boss’ knowledge. Oh, and potentially make out with her in the filing closet.

It’s a busy building, there are plenty of staff members, all with a constant flow of work to keep on top of, so it’s slightly foreign for the hallway to be as empty as it is, though Beca is grateful for the fact as she continues to follow Chloe, almost stopping and turning back around as she comes to her senses.

But then the redhead is opening up a new door, and turning to flash Beca the smirk she’d held back earlier over her shoulder, and God, Beca swears she feels her insides begin to melt.

“There aren’t cameras in here, right?” Chloe questions as Beca follows her into the room, her tone casual as she scans the upper corners.

“I don’t think so. But people come in and out of here a lot, Chlo. We should probably--”

Before she can even finish her sentence, familiar lips are pressing against her own, the taste of brand new lipstick and everything Chloe Beale hitting her immediately, and Beca’s body relaxes into the feeling, her hands instantly finding their way to Chloe’s waist.

“We should probably..?” Chloe prompts, lips still brushing against Beca’s. Beca knows that she’s teasing, and that if she really didn’t want to do this, Chloe wouldn’t push, but her maybe-girlfriend is like a drug, and Beca is suddenly desperate for her fix.

“We should probably make out a little,” the brunette murmurs into the kiss, pressing her lips more firmly to Chloe’s. She feels the other girl’s curve into a small smile against her own, and Beca knows she’s done for.

For such a small person, Beca is surprisingly strong. It helps that Chloe is pretty light herself, and soon Beca’s grip on her waist is tightening until she can snake her arms around her, pale legs wrapping around her own as she carries the other girl to the nearest surface.

“You could’ve given me a heads up that you were wearing this,” Beca says with a certain amount of urgency as she pulls her lips away from the other’s. Her heart beats wildly in her chest, and her gaze drops downward toward Chloe’s skirt. It has ridden up with the position of her legs wrapped around her, and Beca feels an aching at her center, the need for more pulsing adamantly through her small frame.

“Why?” Chloe’s soft laugh is like music as it falls against Beca’s lips, her arms wrapping with ease around her neck. “You don’t like it?”

“I love it,” Beca huffs, head tilting to the side just a little bit to allow her lips the perfect angle to begin peppering light kisses along Chloe’s jaw. “You look amazing, Chlo.”

How far they’re going to go in here, Beca doesn’t know. She does know that she doesn’t care right now, though. Maybe later she’ll worry about the consequences, which is very much unlike her when it comes to her job, but Chloe is just... She’s Chloe. She’s irresistible, and Beca can’t think of anything else she’d rather be doing right now than trailing open mouthed kisses down toward the redhead’s neck, the sound of her soft, familiar whine vibrating through her throat and against Beca’s lips.

There’s an urgency to Beca’s hushed tone as she allows her teeth to graze lightly over the other girl’s soft skin. “Do you want me to stop?”

Although Chloe’s head is tilted back, Beca feels the way she shakes it. “No,” she husks breathily, “That’s the exact opposite of what I want.”

In hindsight, perhaps Beca really should’ve considered this before. The fact that she and Chloe are very much in that early, honeymoon phase of their relationship, that time where neither can keep their hands to themselves. Not even someplace like this, where it’s vital that they do. But Beca isn’t thinking about that right now, she isn’t thinking about what she should be doing, she’s focusing on what she wants to do, and that just so happens to be sitting on the cabinet in front of her, legs parted perfectly around her own, voice soft and pleading as long fingers work their way into the back of brunette hair.

“You have to try to be quiet, okay?” Beca whispers as her lips continue their downward path, tongue flicking delicately over soft skin as she reaches the other girl’s collarbone.

“I will,” Chloe mumbles, and although Beca isn’t looking at her, she can picture her expression so clearly. The way Chloe’s head is angled backward, red hair draped down her back, eyes hooded and silently begging for more. The mental image makes it almost impossible for Beca to keep her hands to herself, and soon she finds them trailing from around Chloe’s waist and across her inner thighs, the way the other girl’s legs part giving off the impression of silent pleading.

Her own arousal begins to pool between her legs, but Beca’s focus isn’t on herself right now, it’s on the woman sitting before her, on the way her fingers are sliding feather lightly over her skin. It’s hot to the touch, even more so the further she moves up the inside of Chloe’s thigh. The redhead releases a soft, barely audible whimper as Beca’s fingers reach the fabric of her panties, the material invitingly wet.

“Fuck, Chlo,” Beca mutters against her skin, teeth nibbling gently down over familiar goosebumps. “How long have you been wanting this?”

“Since the second I saw you this morning,” Chloe breathes unsteadily, hips pushing ever so slightly forward in an effort to seek more friction.

Beca can take the not-so-subtle hint, two fingers sliding the damp fabric aside and finally meeting with the other girl’s wet center. The action immediately pulls a whimper from the back of Chloe’s throat, and Beca finds herself biting down a little more roughly onto her skin. It’s not her intention to leave a mark, Chloe is just so damn hot, she can’t help herself. The tip of her pointer brushes over her clit, coating it in her arousal, and the aching between her own legs increases tenfold in response to Chloe’s audible reaction.

Accepting Chloe’s promise to stay quiet had definitely been wishful thinking on Beca’s part, or perhaps she was just playing dumb, because they both know just how loud Chloe can be, how forward she is with her verbal responses. It’s really no hardship for Beca to trail her lips back up toward the other girl’s to stifle the sounds beginning to fall almost lazily from them as her finger slides easily inside of her, the instant warmth a welcomed feeling, and truth be told, a total turn on.

As Beca slides her middle finger down Chloe’s swollen clit and toward her center, letting it slip inside of her alongside her pointer, she’s the one to release a soft moan into the other girl’s mouth.

“You’re so hot,” she breathes, and while she knows it’s a less than creative, less than intelligent compliment, it’s exactly what’s on Beca’s mind as her fingers pump in and out of the other girl, her gentle moaning vibrating against her lips.

Beca has been learning Chloe’s body throughout their time together. She knows how to tease her, she knows where to touch her to pull the exact reaction she wants from her, and as much as Beca wants to prolong this, to drag this out for as long as possible and to have Chloe begging her to let her finish, she also has to remember where they are. It’s difficult, given the distraction, but regardless.

It’s really not long before their lips are moving away from one another’s, Chloe’s head falling forward to rest against Beca’s shoulder as she pants as quietly as possible -- it’s not very quiet, but for Chloe, it’s impressive -- and Beca feels the way the other girl’s walls clench tightly around her digits. She removes her wet fingers from her center, allowing the coated tips to stroke delicately over her clit until she knows Chloe has reached her release.

The internal struggle of having to finally pull her fingers away from the other girl is a difficult one, because Beca wants to go again, to deliberately pull louder sounds and more desperate movements from the redhead, but she knows that she can’t, not right now. She can still feel her against her skin as she lifts a hand to settle gently under Chloe’s chin, the last few minutes ingrained in her memory as something she never wants to forget. For a second or two, her gaze washes over Chloe’s face, taking in her expression as she comes down from her euphoric high, and Beca can’t help but feel a little smug. Chloe looks beautiful and vulnerable, and Beca watches her with adoration, before her lips are pressing delicately against the other’s.

“We should probably get back to work,” the brunette finally says, her voice a mumble against the redhead’s lips. It’s even more difficult for her to pull back from the kiss than it was to move her fingers away, but Beca somehow does it, and the expression she’s met with on the other girl’s face is reward enough.

“You’re right,” Chloe breathes, her arms rising to wrap loosely around Beca’s neck once more. “Ugh, I really don’t want to, but you’re right.”

“Mm, I have a tendency to be,” Beca jokes, brows rising and falling in a way that compliments the smug smile still drawn across her lips.

They share another soft, delicate kiss, before Beca finally forces herself to take a step back, arms wrapping around Chloe’s waist to carefully lift her down from the cabinet. Her skirt is still risen, and Beca can’t help her small chuckle as she motions toward it. “You might want to fix that.”

“I was getting to it,” Chloe responds in a light tone, her hands lowering to position her skirt back in place. Beca assumes they’re going to exit the room, though Chloe reaches forward to grasp a fistful of Beca’s shirt, gently tugging her closer. Her lips ghost feather lightly against the brunette’s, and her whispered words cause that familiar aching to return. “You know, I’ve always wanted to do that. Sex with my girlfriend in an office closet.”

“Girlfriend?” Beca questions, her gaze taking in Chloe’s expression as she pulls just slightly back.

The redhead simply nods, her small smile natural, almost bashful in response. It’s a look Beca has never seen before, but that causes her heart to flutter, her stomach to twist with the feeling of a thousand butterflies. “Mm, that’s what I said.”

Beca wants to play it cool, to act like it’s no big deal, but she’s only fooling herself in doing so, and it’s clear that Chloe has already seen the way her cheeks have heated up, her teeth sinking gently into her lower lip. “Good to know.”

For a moment there, Beca had forgotten where exactly they were, but now they were faced with the task of returning to the office as if nothing had transpired, and Beca isn’t so sure her inner actress knows how to do that. But she has to try, and fortunately she has Chloe’s expert lead to follow.

“You go back first, I’ll head back in a couple minutes,” Chloe instructs, leaning forward to press a small kiss to the apple of Beca’s cheek. There it is again, that struggle to pull herself away, but Beca eventually does it, her stomach swirling with excitement and undeniable nerves as she makes her way out of the closet and back toward the office.

A part of her expects everybody to stare when she walks back in, as if they’re going to know exactly where she’s been, exactly what she was doing, but she’s met with busy coworkers doing their jobs, just like any other weekday, and Beca feels herself begin to relax as she heads for her desk, pulling out her seat and relaxing back into the rest.

People have returned from lunch by now, Mr. Pritchard included, and Beca’s heart almost stops when Chloe enters the room only moments behind her, with Mr. Pritchard calling her name.

“Chloe,” he greets, walking quickly toward her as she passes Beca’s desk on the way to her own. He knows. Beca is positive that he knows, and she braces herself for the impending chastisement. “How is everything going? Do you feel you’re settling in okay?”

Apparently, Chloe is much more composed than Beca, though that’s really not surprising. She meets Mr. Pritchard with a friendly smile, her head nodding and curls bobbing against her shoulders. “Everything’s going great, Mr. Pritchard.” She glances briefly toward Beca, then back to their boss. “Becky has been extremely helpful.”

The brunette has to bite on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from grinning, though her shoulders relax and she feels the weight of fear removing itself from her body.

“It’s Beca,” she says, clearing her throat. Both sets of eyes move toward her, and Beca shrugs her shoulder almost nonchalantly. “But I mean... Becky is fine too. Whatever.”

[bredsticon-blog]

title: the alternative

part: one (saint or sinner)

desc: you have died. you weren't an extraordinary person when you were alive--you made a few little sins and a few little good deeds, but it's not enough to land you in heaven nor hell. so the reaper gives you two choices: be in limbo forever, or serve equal years in heaven and hell. well, you choose the latter...

tags: angel!nick & demon!zion love triangle (or not? wink), heaven and hell au (yes ik purgatory exists but it has different purposes for this series), ooc (on purpose, i swear), sfw (as in, no smut), gore, violence (i mean, you're in hell...), cussing, murder, mentions of: rape, abuse, addiction (alcohol, LSD, heroin, uhh everything else), mental issues (depression, suicide), and death in general. gender/sex neutral reader (as always) and humor to lighten the mood

word count: 2k

notes: it isn't nearly as scary as the tags make it seem, i promise. i spent a l o n g time on the promo art for this (which imma post LATER) so uhh please read :'( haha yes i WILL finish writing the fma!austin fic and make the part 2 for ¡quake! & ~the wave~ but my ass is still collecting gifs and cleaning up plot holes sksksk and on the 2.76% chance the boys read this: hi follow me im @/bredsticon on ig, i make quality content and be more active on tumblr please we love you

You don't remember dying.

You're dead, and you don't remember dying.

Perhaps, in another life, you once thought that death accompanied a special feeling: life flashing before your eyes, lights out, everything over before your last breath escapes your lungs. But this is... this is slow. So slow. You're still on earth. Floating.. somewhere. Nowhere else. You see the world, all of it. Stars twinkle in the mist. The world around you is gray and dark. You watch your home fall apart. Every crack and shake is in full detail, and, dimly, you watch the sprouting of vines and weeds in its place. The weeds brush heads as they cluster your old house, your old neighborhood, your old country, your old everything.

You're old.

Breathless doesn't begin to describe it. You don't have lungs. You don't have... you don't. You just don't. You are nowhere. You are nothing. You don't exist.

Someone waves inside of you.

What the—

"Hello, Soul One-Hundred Thirty-Three Billion, Seventy-Five Million and Sixty-Five. You're late."

An NYC accent? You're from—

"Now that's a mouthful. I'll just call you Rosebud. See, you were supposed to cross over..." A watch ticks inside your... your form? You? "...millennia ago. Five millennia, in fact."

The voice throws a powder on you. Something blooms inside you, and you fall to the ground.

You gasp—holy shit, you can gasp. You move your head around. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, you have muscles, you have form, you can move. You exist.

The voice has a form, too. He looks like you: human. Flaming blue hair, khaki-colored skin with reddish-pink polka dots and marks. He wears modern clothes: a bright yellow vest and green pants. And glowing. He's like a painting. Human, kinda.

You gape at him. This doesn't exist. This can't exist. You thought you'd be nothing forever. But now you're something and that's something and the world around you is still murky but it's something and oh my God. Oh my fucking God. What happened to you? What happened to your home? Why aren't you dead?

The form smiles at you. "Be careful with mentioning the Master Creator so much. They're listening, y'know. They can tell when you're talking about Them."

He offers you a hand. Shaking, you take it. You wobble so hard you grab his shoulder, and he pats your wrist.

"Relax, Rosebud, we're gonna go up now. Take my hands." Gently, he takes your hand off his shoulder and interlocks your fingers together. You close your eyes as he pulls you close.

Once you open them, you're no longer on Earth.

You're in an office.

Vaguely relaxing piano music plays in the background. The walls gleam "eggshell white" (whatever that means), and copy-and-paste potted plants commiserate in corners, on shelves, and on top of desks. Rows and rows of cubicles line up in front of you, complete with ancient computers, loud clicking, and early morning groans of "I need more coffee, for fu- fun's sake!" A vending machine and a water cooler stand behind you, with banged-up tables interspersed between those.

Someone rises out of a cubicle. His skin is pale, but his hair is dark. "Reaper Honoret Jr.! Is that—oh my goodness, is that the stray? You did it! It took a few millennia, but you did it!"

Honoret Jr. grimaces. "My bad, Dad. The soul blended in so well, it took me a while... my readings showed complete neutrality. It's like there's no one there." The reaper looked back at you. "I only caught a flicker. Right now, I can't—"

His dad chuckles. "Not Dad. It's Reaper Honoret Sr. to you." He winks. "I'm kidding, y'know how they get around here."

He comes forward and wraps his arms around the boy, then unlatches. Without Honoret Jr's support, you fall to the ground, so you watch as he holds his son's shoulders. "Your bad? What do you mean? I'm proud of you. So, so proud. You're the only one who could even—actually, wait."

He turns to face the cubicles. "Reapers of Thanatos & Co., guess who just caught the stray!"

The clicking stops.

Someone coughs. "You're joking, right?"

"Absolutely not. In fact, it's behind me, right now."

Chairs scoot on scratchy carpet as the reapers of Thanatos & Co. nearly jump out of their cubicles to see you. Forty reapers dressed in some manner of business attire speed walk in your direction. One pushes Honoret Jr. out of the way—his dad has to catch him before he falls on his face.

When they see you, they stop. They start staring at the air around you. They sniff like blood hounds.

After a pause, a reaper with large eyebrows turns to another, eyes wide. "I think... I can't... I literally..."

The other nods. "Same here. Reaper Honoret Sr. isn't lying."

The crowd murmurs in agreement.

A reaper with short pink hair raises his hand. When no one calls on him, he puts it down and mutters something about being new. "Wait, if Reaper Honoret Sr. found the stray, shouldn't we tell the Grand Reaper about it first?"

Once more, the crowd murmurs in agreement.

The eyebrow reaper stares at you—no, not at you. Into you. Like you're not even there. "Before that, we need to know who found it. Reaper Honoret Sr., did you find it? We need someone to congratulate."

He grins. "Nope! My son did." He shook his boy's shoulders.

The reaper raises a brow, then gives the blue-haired reaper a look. "Oh. Well, uhm, congratulations."

The crowd weakly claps. Good job... mhm... congratulations, Junior... and then they disperse back into their leather spin chairs.

Honoret Jr. turns to you and makes a face. "Sorry about that. Office drama. Can't escape it, even in this world."

He doesn't look like a reaper to you. No black cloak, no creepy aura, no skeleton fingers. Kind, colorful, couldn't be a reaper. Nope. Impossible. None of this is.

"You're not believing a lot of things, I know. The first few days are the hardest." He gifts you with another smile. "You'll get there, I promise. I'm here to help.

"Name's Edwin, by the way. You've been calling me Honoret Jr. and that just gives me middle school flashbacks. No thanks."

You can't even make a proper facial expression to react to that. You can't formulate words—or even walk without Edwin holding your hand. He's reading your thoughts, at least. You're basically a vegetable.

He shrugs. "Give it a few hours, Rosebud. The vegetable'll wear off. Your body's just adjusting to this plane. No shame."

You can't speak, so you just think of the word: thanks. My name is—

"Oh, I know what your name is. I've been searching for you for five millennia. I'd be a horrible reaper if I didn't know."

He extends a hand. "Speaking of vegetable and horrible reaper, I bet you're hungry. You're also naked. Let's fix that."

-

Reapers need to eat, surprisingly. Edwin leads you through a myriad of hallways with the exact same paintings and potted plants (this is disgustingly easy to get lost in, you think. Edwin agrees) until you reach the break room. It takes you an hour.

No one's in there except you two. Edwin gave you some of his clothes (kept in another room), so you're wearing a red fit with a black vest and a lime green beanie. He tried to offer his matching ski mask, but you managed to mentally shout "No!" before he put it away. You don't mind wearing his stuff, but you wonder what that could imply. Do reapers...? Actually, you don't wanna think about that.

The break room curves up into a sparkling, plastic chandelier. The rest of the room accommodates a fridge plastered in posters, a microwave, and a dirty coffee maker paired with beige countertops. A pile of paper plates and utensils decorates the left countertop, while a sink occupies the right end. Island tables take up the rest of the center, leaving room for vending machines in the back.

Edwin scrunches his nose. "Who's bummy ass forgot to wash the coffee pot? Ew." He examines it, then starts washing the dishes.

He looks back at you. "You can go raid the fridge. Just don't touch the lunch boxes or uh—bento boxes, I think. Those are Reaper Porter's, and he will get very mad if you touch his bento. I did that once, so he threw a fork at me then said I messed with his feng shui."

Edwin mutters something about unseasoned chicken as he continues scrubbing coffee stains.

You stand up. Your walk is wobbly at best, and you feel like a pile of jello—you're weak in the knees, like jello. But you're getting there. Its better than before. At some point in your hour-long journey to the break room, poor Edwin had to carry you. You felt bad, but at least he's strong. Maybe it's a reaper thing.

You stumble to the fridge. Posters and dates and schedules cover the surface, but you brush past them to find what truly matters: the food.

Reaper office food tastes just as bland as human office food. How sad.

You find that your body works just like it used to. You're hungry, you can feel pain, and you're starting to move. It's like you never died. And now you're in a huge office full of slightly-glowy people who call themselves Reapers and also can't sense you, which is a concept you still don't understand. Or maybe you didn't die? Maybe someone stirred some LSD in your drink? And this is all... a major... acid... trip...

You blink, then pinch yourself. Nope. You're 'swell.

Edwin pulls out a chair. "Now that we're done with the basics, Rosebud, we need to get you registered. You're a bit of a weird case, but you're not too too special. Just uncommon."

He pauses. "Well, actually, you might be a little more special than that. Just a tad."

You give him a look. Something builds in your throat.

"What the fuck?"

He giggles. "Those are your first words on this plane? I—"

"No, seriously. What. The. Fuck." You sound like a cheese grater but you don't care. "I literally have no idea what's going on. I died, I think, then I watched mankind die too as the Earth turned into dandelions, then you went inside of me and threw some pixie dust to make me come back again, suddenly I'm in a 90s sitcom office and I'm naked which literally no one told me about until everyone else saw me as bare as the day I was born and—"

Edwin pats your hand. "All right, all right, let it out, let it out. I'll explain everything. It's just really long." He rubs the back of his neck. "And we're kinda on a time crunch here."

"A time crunch. When it took us an hour just to get a snack."

"Yes, a time crunch. We have about two more hours to get you registered before you become tied to this plane. Then you'll have to become a reaper, like me, and you don't wanna become a reaper." He bites deeply into his peanut butter and banana sandwich. "Shit's hard."

"I can't even—"

"Mhm." He says through a mouthful of peanut butter. "I'm rellay sorreh you're goineh frough thif. I geh how you feel. Eferyone dehs."

He swallows. "We all started out alive. No one's been here since the beginning. Except for some of the seraphim, I guess. But the rest of us? We just humans the Master Creator decided to gift. You're not alone in this. I went through the same bullshit as you. I get it."

You bow your head down. Your thoughts are too jumbled to feel actual anger. "Thanks, Edwin."

"You honestly deserve better, but no problem." He stands up and wipes his hands on a napkin. "Imma clean up after myself, so you can get a head start. We do only have two hours." He yanks you out of the chair. Still chewing, you watch as Edwin shoves you out the break room.

"Wait—hold up—wh—I don't know where I'm supposed to—"

He grins. "You will! Your senses will guide you."

"What— more vague shi—" and the door slams.

[boredsingaporean]

Chapter 26: Good Feng Shui for Offices

I was having a very bad morning. Some critical issues with a new FX fund had surfaced suddenly and its launch date was around the corner. I had been on four conference calls with the Singapore, Thailand, South Korea and China country managers respectively for the past four hours, repeating the same things over and over again. Just when I put back my headset and took a first sip on my already cold coffee, my MSN Messenger popped out. I had got a message from Nicky. “hey, ur product got prob? u sounded exasperated on ur conf calls” “yeh, got surprises at the wrong timing.” “do u think everybody has been rather unlucky lately?” “is it?” “ur product got prob, Choi’s report was handed up late” “erm… Choi’s reports are always handed up late” “ok, Dawn’s project got stuck” “Nicky, Dawn’s project is never destined to be successful” “Sally has been scolded by Ju for a few times in a row this month” “it’s their event period. It’s normal” “ok ,Rose has been falling sick” “hmm… true. She has been having migraine quite frequently these days” “and my shares has been dropping” “so wat are u trying to tell me?” “i think our office’s Feng Shui has got prob” “are u sure it’s our office’s Feng Shui?” “yeh. I tell u wat. I’ll bring my stuffs here tomoro” “wat stuffs?” “my Feng Shui tools. I need to take a look at our office’s Feng Shui and see wat’s wrong” Geez, to Nicky, all misfortunes lead to Feng Shui. But he was not being too paranoid though. It was true that all of us had been down on our luck lately. Nothing seemed to work and anything that could go wrong went wrong. Maybe it was really the Feng Shui. As promised, Nicky appeared with an ancient Chinese Feng Shui compass, a.k.a. Luo Pan, in the office on the following morning. It was a small compass embedded in a huge movable copper disc with lots of Chinese writings on it and this whole thing was then housed in a red square box. There was even a tiltmeter with a liquid bubble inside a chamber that indicated if the compass was tilted. The only time I had seen this kind of compass was in a Chinese movie about zombies and Taoists. Nicky walked to our office door, turned and tilted his compass then noted down his reading on a piece of paper. He then did the same action at the other three corners and the center of the area that belonged to our department. “Dude, I was right,” Nicky looked at me solemnly. “Our office has got bad Feng Shui.” “Then why did it only affect us at the end of the year?” I was not convinced. “Because then it was not time yet. But now, my friend, the bad luck has finally surfaced. We need to counter it or else more misfortune will be expected.” If I was not standing in front of Nicky and looking at him, I would have thought that I heard those words from a Feng Shui master who was trying to tell me that we needed to buy some thousands dollars Feng Shui cures to end our bad luck. “And what are we supposed to do, our dear Feng Shui Master?” I teased. “Our office door is facing the West, which is where the Grand Duke Jupiter is situated this year. That is very bad because all the movements at the door have created too much noise.” “Oh, so this Mr. Grand Duke Jupiter is a quiet guy like KZ, huh?” “Beng! In Feng Shui, Grand Duke Jupiter is very well respected. And misfortunes will fall upon us if we create noises at where he is seated!” “Okay, so what’s the cure?” “We need to buy a Pi Xiu,” Nicky continued. “This Pi Xiu should be placed at our door and facing West where the Grand Duke Jupiter is. It’ll then get rid of the bad luck due to the conflict.” Oh, so that guy with a horn, a face that looks like a mix between a lion and a dog, hoofs at its feet, two little wings and a tail would scare that cantankerous and sour old soul away. “Will this Pi Xiu stops people from treating me as a receptionist as well?” asked Ju who sat at the desk nearest to the door. “I’m so sick of having delivery men and guests asking me where is who seated, where is the wash room and where is the exit.” “Erm… I’m not sure about this part.” Nicky admitted. “But I know that it’s bad Feng Shui to sit facing the office door directly. It means that you’ll be out of the company soon.” “Out of the company? Does it mean that some headhunters will look for me and some companies will offer me higher pay?” “Err… I’m not sure if it can be translated to that.” “Nicky! Maybe you should look at my Feng Shui problem as well!” shouted Sally. “You’re not under any exposed overhead beam, and your facing direction seems okay. What’s wrong?” asked the puzzled Nicky. “It is bad Feng Shui to face the copier machine right?” “What?” “You know, everybody who discovers that the copier machine is out of paper will turn around and ask me whether I have any papers,” Sally complained. “There was once, this guy even told me that the copier machine was spoilt and he just stood in front of me and expected me to do something about it! What did he expect? Do I look like I can repair a copier machine?” “Erm… Sally, I’m afraid I can’t help you on this. The Feng Shui books did not mention anything about what to do when you sit facing a copier machine.” Before Sally could ask him anything, Nicky hastily walked to the back of our department area. He looked at the vertical blinds covering the windows then turned to me and said: “I’ve found another problem.” “What’s that?” “The three of us, you, me and Choi, we are seated with our backs to the windows. That’s bad Feng Shui!” “Because there’s another disagreeable guy situated there?” “No! In Feng Shui, if you are seated with you back to a door or a window, it means you won’t have the support from your bosses and colleagues in work. No wonder Rose rejected my last analysis report!” “Err… Nicky, I heard that she rejected that report because you made some mistakes in some of your charts.” “Never mind, I know how to cure this,” Nicky ignored my comments and continued. “We can place a Dragon Tortoise here to give us the support that we lack of.” “Dude, is it a dragon or a tortoise?” “A Dragon Tortoise.” “Yah, so which one? Dragon or tortoise?” “A Dragon Tortoise! A Dragon Tortoise is a Feng Shui animal with the head of a dragon and the body of a tortoise!” explained Nicky, slightly miffed with me. Nicky then turned and pushed away the vertical blinds as he opened one of the windows. He stuck his head out for a few minutes, looking up and down, left and right, then came back in and closed the window. “I don’t really see any sharp corners or protruding parts outside our office windows.” “Well, that’s great then.” “But in order to play safe, I think we’d better increase the yang chi in our office.” I had heard this from a television program before. People who believe in Feng Shui believe that our environment is consisted of yang chi, which is positive aura, and yin chi, which is negative aura. When the yang chi is weaker than the yin chi in an environment, the people staying in that environment will be very unlucky. And when the yin chi in an environment is too strong, that place could be haunted. I wondered if that was the reason for Sally’s spiritual experience. “How are you going to increase the yang chi in the office?” I asked Nicky. “There are these five-coin amulets that are made of five I-Ching coins tied together with a red string. I’ll get five of these amulets and we can hang four in the four corners and hang the fifth one in the center.” “Hey bro! Since you’re at it, is there anything you can do to the Feng Shui here to make our wealth luck stronger so that we can win some lottery?” Choi asked. “Hmm… actually there might be a way.” Nicky walked back to his table and took out several Feng Shui books from his document bag. One by one, he flipped and read through some pages. A couple of minutes later, he put down a book and walked over to Choi’s desk. “Choi, there is one way to enhance our wealth luck. But it’s a bit troublesome though.” “Well, if I can win the first price for lottery, I don’t really mind doing something that is troublesome,” Choi grinned. “We need to take a porcelain bowl, put in five I-Ching coins and fill it with water. Then we need to place this bowl of coins and water at the corner diagonally to our office door.” “That doesn’t sound too troublesome.” “We need to change the water every week.” “That’s not a problem at all. I can do it,” Choi committed. “And we can’t use normal tap water.” “Then what? Use mineral water?” Nicky took a breath, and then said: “We need water from the heaven, from the sky to be specific. We need to collect rain water to fill the bowl.” Choi raised an eyebrow and said: “Forget it. It’s really too troublesome.” During lunch time, I accompanied Nicky to the Feng Shui shop that he usually patron at The Bencoolen to get the Pi Xiu, Dragon Tortoise and five-coin amulets. After we left the shop, Nicky mentioned that we needed to bless our Feng Shui cures in the Kwan Im Tong Hood Che Temple. “How do we bless these stuffs?” I asked. “Oh, just circle the cures three times around the main joss-sticks urn in the temple and ask the Goddess of Mercy for her blessings,” Nicky explained. “Okay, I presume that you’re doing that because you’re a Buddhist. But Dawn is a Christian. Will these animals and amulets protect her as well?” “Err… I’m not sure. It’s not stated in the books.” After we returned to the office, we could not place those Feng Shui cures yet. Nicky said that the only auspicious hour for that day was at five o’clock and we could only place those cures by then. Finally at five minutes past five, Nicky placed the Pi Xiu and Dragon Tortoise at their respective places while Choi and I helped to hang the coin amulets on the lamp holders. Dawn watched in amaze as we hung the coin amulets. “Hey, what are you guys doing?” Dawn finally could not control her curiosity and asked. “We’re hanging some Feng Shui coin amulets,” I replied the obvious. “What is that amulet for? What is it supposed to do?” “Err… bring us good luck.” “Okay… these coins look pretty eerie. Will it affect me negatively? I’m pregnant, you know?” “Erm… I’m not very sure actually. Why don’t you ask Nicky? It’s his idea.” Immediately, Dawn walked over to Nicky who had just finished adjusting the Pi Xiu’s position and asked him a series of questions. Nicky frowned as he tried to answer her questions and I could see that he needed to read more Feng Shui books. Actually, maybe Nicky should find a Feng Shui cure that could stop Dawn from bothering him.

[outdoors-living]

Gardening for small spaces

Are you an enthusiast about gardening?

So we are.

We are excited to present this new blog post about how to create your outdoor cute garden in a small backyard.

As a gardening enthusiast, I read blogs very often, but I find all those are to describe big gardens. So I life in a tiny house and my yard is so small…only one of those a pergolas would take all the place.

Years ago I was learning bout window farming, this concept of growing veggies indoor…I love. Ever since I grow my Italian herbs at home.

 I’m kind of inspired by home and garden décor, I tend to choose minimalistic products for my self and I curate them for others. I enjoy simple living and the décor accents that I choose are durable, well constructed and enhance calm and Zen.

At the end, indoors or outdoors, the target is to create this intimate sense of home.

Read more about this topic on my last blog post here  

Keeping my blog updated is something I do constantly. I'm inspired by creating an ambiance of beauty, warmth and welcoming atmosphere to welcome my loved ones and to make them feel comfortable in my home

To discover the full line up of blog posts, please follow this link https://solytierra.shop/blogs/news

 I put together 10 easy gardening tips for small spaces, so you can set-up your dream outdoor living space, even if it’s tiny. This is great for you living in a urban apartment or tiny house, or even those having (as me) a small house entrance.

  As said, finding good gardening ideas for small spaces is not easy. Pinterest, Instagram and others show impressive gardens, but what about the real homes or apartments?

  In this post you will discover how easy is to gardening for small spaces and it’s like a therapy. I like to take things positively, so every time I sit down on my garden I think to myself…well…at least I don’t have to do the lawn (since is so tiny)

  So let’s dive into it and let’s answer the question: how to build a garden in a small space?

  We may all have dreams of big, never ending gardens, but the reality is that most of us simply don’t have the space.

There’s nothing wrong with that– with a little creativity even the smallest of spaces can give you plenty of joy of gardening, flowers, or even a relaxing outdoor green room all your own. Keep reading to learn more about plants for small spaces and how to make a garden with little space.

Here are my 10 tips to create your very own garden area

  1 Using containers

  Creating a Small Garden Space with containers to create this sense of space without clutter. Less is more in small living areas.

On the image above, you can view an sphere solar powered fountain behind the nice lavenders.

You can get the look in this Pinterest post

If your space is too small for a wooden raised bed, you can also make gardens in small spaces using containers.

Containers are rectangular concrete planters, also known as box planters.

These are great to create this sense of botanical garden , where everything has its place and all is so coherent that it seems all had been there for years.

You can choose a nice container garden to suit whatever space you have available. I curated this set-of-3 multi size containers for you

Plant things that have interesting foliage and bark and a long flowering period, so they beautify the space year-round. Plant a single large item, like a flowering bush or dwarf tree, to create a sense of varying levels and different views from different angles.

I selected these nice containers here on Amazon

    2 incorporating the element water, solar water fountains fo complete the look

  I curated these self powered water fountains, so you don’t need electricity wires, just to set-up the small solar panel and start enjoying the nice sound of the water stream.

Discover these solar powered water fountains

  3 Using all the space to extend the outdoors living area

  What about using all the space, even if it’s a tiny patio?

Do you find that you only really use one particular section of your garden? If so, dividing your space up into specific zones is a great way to maximise every inch.

As a basic layout, you can divide your garden area in three distinct areas for sunbathing, playing on the grass, and in order to create these sections, you can use box planters. They are easy to set-up and a great décor addition to your outdoor living area as well.

What about creating a mini path between those sections? This would be great to entertain your visits and to give your place a feeling of order and sense.

  These set-of 3 concrete planters are great to ensure that even the very bottom of the garden is used.

  4 Incorporating flooring for outdoors living room

  Flooring is a really effective way to zone a garden space – see how the paving, grass and decking are used here. But if you can't change your flooring, look to screens, outdoor rugs or living walls, to create distinct 'rooms' within your garden. 

  Small garden ideas can be quite subtle. Take this one, using zoning, a trick usually reserved for breaking up large indoor rooms into different areas – say, one for relaxing, and one for dining. The key to garden zoning is using different textures, colours or materials to differentiate between the areas. Flooring, for example, is perfect for doing this, and will create a larger-feeling, more interesting outdoor living space.

  5 STACK GARDEN POTS IN MULTIPLE HEIGHTS TO ADD DIMENSION

  Container gardening is one of the best small garden ideas, especially if your garden has a patio or decking. The trick is to go for as many different types and heights of garden as possible: this will help add dimension and texture to the space. For instance, mix and match large terra-cotta pots with tall and slender glazed pots. And if you have a really small space, stack them up like this or wall-hang them to pack more in.

  6 INCLUDE AN OUTDOOR FIREPLACE OR PIT FOR COOL NIGHTS

Outdoor fireplaces are actually even better suited to smaller gardens than larger ones, for the simple reason you will really feel the cosiness in a smaller space.

If your house won't permit the addition of a fireplace structurally, consider getting a clay chiminea or look at fire pit ideas instead.

  7 CREATE A SMALL BUT LUXURIOUS OUTDOOR RELAXATION AREA

Even the tiniest garden can become a luxurious, relaxing sanctuary. You will have to decide what's most important to you – a fully planted up outdoor space, a nook for reading, perhaps even a tiny pond... However small your garden is, once you've decided what you want your space to be like, there's no reason you can't achieve it, with the help of a skillful garden designer or landscape architect. 

  8 LESS IS MORE IN A SMALL GARDEN

'In a small space, a few large features are better than many small ones. Two or three big pots will have much more impact and look far more stylish than a dozen ill-assorted smaller ones. One tree, if you can fit it in, is better than three shrubs of a middling size,' says gardening expert and TV personality Alan Titchmarsh.

  9 Growing your food

how to grow a vegetable garden in a small space?

You can also think of growing Italian herbs for your foodies’ creations. Are you a hero of homemade pizza? Growing oregano is so easy as throwing seeds on a box container and water it often. Put this under morning sunlight and voila! Fresh herbs right away on your doorstep

    10 GO MONOCHROME TO ENHANCE A SMALL GARDEN

And by monochrome we don't mean black or white; washing your entire small garden in a deep, vibrant colour will create a jewel-box effect that's very attractive, and it'll distract from the small size of your garden. 

In the case you’d like to have pottery, add other elements in terracotta tones, maybe other plant pots or play with fabrics.

    Bonus: ADDING TEXTURES

  Adding some outdoor potteries can create a huge impact recreating this sense of eternal décor. Even you can extend this feeling by using clay dinnerware sets, as these ones on Etsy

  Is gardening a therapy for you? Read my last post about this topic here

https://solytierra.shop/blogs/news/creating-your-dream-garden-as-a-therapy

  Would you like how to bring Feng Shui to your garden area? Find it here https://solytierra.shop/blogs/news/5-tips-bring-feng-shui-to-your-outdoor-space-this-summer

  Are you a Pinterest aficionado? Discover these beautiful pins here

https://www.pinterest.ca/Pottery_sol_y_tierra

Thanks for reading, don't hesitate to contact me for suggestions, comments or ideas

Bernat

[tilleys89-blog]

Chapter Two

This place is a disaster.  

I do this to myself.  I just really, really hate cleaning.  

I’m not sure if the importance of picking up after yourself was ever fully ingrained into me as a child.  It’s a discipline that I wish I had at this very moment though, because this place is fucking nasty.  Clothes are everywhere.  Dishes are in the sink with food still on the plates.  A month’s worth of mail is sprawled out over the kitchen counter.

Other than my inability to clean up after myself, I really like my house.  It has good feng shui.  

I should probably learn what that word actually means.  Wait, is it one word or two words?  

I retrieve my phone from my pocket and do a quick search which reveals that it is two words.  Also, it apparently means that a designated area is balanced with energy.  

In that case, my apartment does not have good feng shui because I need to clean it.  I’ve upset the balance!

Maybe it’s not a bad time to clean.  I don’t really have anything else going on right now, after-all.  I could text Michelle back, but honestly, I really don’t want to. The nightmares from last night have traumatized me.  That fucking bat, man. Son-of-a-bitch, where’s everyone at when you create a good pun?  

I should probably just delete the app.  I mean, if Michelle is any indication of how the rest of the girls are online then count me out.  Plus, the logo for the app is ridiculous.  It’s a butterfly sitting on a heart.  Not like an actual heart, that would be weird, but like one of those illustrated hearts.  The typical heart drawing.

Oh, hey, I got a match.  Don’t you just love it when that happens?  Oh, I’m going to delete you!  No you’re not, here!  You just got a match, bitch!

Well, hello there, Rachel.  Oh, she’s cute.  Aw, look, she even has a horse.  Her bio is a tad short, but that’s not too uncommon.  Damn.  What the hell is she doing swiping right on me?  I mean, I know I’m handsome, but shit.  Kidding!  I look like Jon Heder from Napoleon Dynamite if he had elephantiasis.  

Maybe she’s a bot.  

Should I say hello?  

No.  That’s too boring.  According to that one article, from that one post, from that one author, I should be original.  Have a good opening line.  Be charming. Be clever.  Be everything that you are currently not.  

You got this.  

Eye of the fucking tiger.  

Okay, how about this:

“So, I guess we’re married now?  Is that how this works?” I type.

That’s original and funny, right?

And, send.  

Oh God.

What did I do?  

She’s too pretty for such ridiculous lines.  I should have just said hello.  

You fucking moron!

I should have just deleted the app.  Saved myself the embarrassment of not receiving a reply.  

It’s fine.  I’m fine.  We’ll see what happens.  Meanwhile, I’ll just see who else is on here.  Alright fingers, let’s get to swiping.  I crack my knuckles, like a tool.

No.

No.

No.

Yes.

Fuck yes.

No.

No.  

Match!

Would you look at that.  

Okay, here’s your opportunity to come up with a better opening line.  Be clever, dammit!

Oh, hey, there’s a GIF option. What should I search for though?  

Got it!

The Titanic sinking after striking the iceberg is a perfect representation of breaking the ice.  You clever bitch you.  

Send!

Okay, that’s enough for now.  Too much more and I’ll be drawn in.  What else should I do, though?  It’s my day off from work and I have nothing to do.  

I could text Brian.  Dammit, no, he’s having a date night with the wife.  I don’t want to interrupt them.  

Nearly every fiber in my being is telling me to clean my apartment, but I really don’t want to.  Not yet.  The mood isn’t right.  That doesn’t make any sense.  Fuck it, I just don’t want to right now.  This couch is too comfortable.  

Maybe I could make a pizza?  Oh, that’s right.  I’m on a FUCKING diet.  

A response?  From Rachel..  

“I mean, duh!” she replied in the message. Well, that doesn’t sound like a generic bot response.  Which is promising.  However, I honestly wasn’t expecting a response.

Now what the fuck do I say?

This is too hard.  Abandon the mission!  

“Fantastic!  This was much easier than everyone makes it out to be.  Wasn’t stressful at all.” I nervously type out.  

No.  Let’s change that.

“Awesome!  This was much easier than everyone makes it out to be.  It wasn’t stressful at all!” I slightly alter.  

Too many exclamation points.  

Oh, just send it already you pussy!

FINE! Send!

Oh, God.  It wasn’t right.  I fucked it up.  

Okay, so, worse comes to worst, she doesn’t reply.  Or, even worse, she does reply.  I talk to her for a while and we set up a date.  She realizes that my profile pictures are in fact me, and that I’m not a creepy, fifty year old pervert, but that I used editing software to heavily alter my pictures to make myself look better than normal.  

I need to smoke.  I can’t handle this right now.  Anxiety is going to be the death of me.  

If I smoke, though, I need to hide my phone.  I mean, I don’t normally like to text anyway, but right now I may be stupid enough to try to have a conversation and that does NOT need to happen.  

Okay, I’ll just charge it in the bedroom and I won’t feel compelled to go in there for a while because the couch will be too busy devouring my physical body.  

Speaking of devouring, I should legitimately prepare some sort of food if I’m going to smoke.  Good thing I bought grapes the other day.  To the kitchen!

As I walk into the kitchen, I immediately get punched in the throat with the scent of old food.

Fucking dishes.  Or is it the trash that’s overflowing?  Why am I this way?  I’m a disgusting son-of-a-bitch.

They both just pile up.  I’m the only one here, and yet, they continually pile up.  I’ll deal with it later.  For now, I have to smoke.  

I open the drawer beside the refrigerator and retrieve a small, wooden box.  I open it to discover its contents.

Grinder?  Check.  

Weed?  Check.

Bowl?  Check.

I open the refrigerator and reach for the bag of grapes.

Grapes?  Check.  

The only thing I don’t like about smoking is the paranoia.  I’m already a paranoid person, so it just amplifies it ten-fold, but man does it feel amazing.  I also don’t like how cold it is right now.  I hate having to go outside to smoke, but I don’t want my apartment to smell like weed.  Honestly, it’s amazing that my family still has no idea that I smoke.  I guess since I don’t smoke regularly, it hasn’t really affected my motor functions.  Is that something a pot-head would say?  

Whatever.  Let’s just pack this bowl.  Not too much though.  I need to ration out what little I have left.  

I open the bag of weed and pinch off a bit, around the size of a dime.  I seperate the grinder, placing the small amount of weed in the center before closing the grinder.

This is where I always get fucked up.  I end up grinding it too much and it becomes a powder.  That isn’t going to happen today though.  I have learned the error of my ways!

I twist the grinder five times and seperate the grinder again.  The weed is no longer a clump, nor is it a powder.  It’s perfect.

I dump the weed from the grinder onto the counter and begin to move it into the bowl, making sure not to leave even the tiniest amount.

Fuck!  Lighter!  Where the hell did it go?  I begin a frantic search.  I look in the nearby drawers, slinging papers everywhere.  I move the box of cereal from the top of the refrigerator, checking to see if it is behind it.  It isn’t..  

A-ha!  Found you, you little fucker.  I keep putting it in the cabinet above the stove for some reason.  

Okay, now I’m ready to smoke.

I grab the bowl, and the lighter, and proceed outside onto my porch.

Jesus, it’s cold as fuck outside.  

Living in the south is so confusing.  One day it’s warm and the next it’s fucking twenty degrees outside.  

I like it here though.  It’s quiet.  The Bible humpers can be a bit annoying, but for the most part, I can tolerate them.  I have nothing against religion, in fact, I used to be religious, but I really hate the people who push their agenda on you.  As long as they don’t do that, I’m great.  I would love to have to an actual, intellectual conversation about religion.  Unfortunately, no one around here seems to know how to do so.  I guess you could say the south doesn’t have good feng shui.

Ah, shit.  That doesn’t work.  It only works with furniture and shit.  I think that’s right.  Phone is too far away to check.  

I place the bowl to my mouth and light the weed.  I inhale, feeling the smoke burn as it engulfs my lungs, then I exhale the smoke towards the porch light.  

This is good weed.  

I can tell that it’s going to be a relaxing high.  Which is great because I don’t know what happened with the last batch but I was jumping off the walls.  Like, seriously jumping off of them.  Nearly broke my fucking leg.  

Oh, shit.  Don’t cough, you pussy.  You have trained for this!

I let out a hoarse series of coughs.

Fucking Hell!  My lungs!  

I take another hit, because I’m a badass.

Jesus!  Too big of a hit.  Too big!  Oh, damn!

I continue coughing, like a little bitch.

Okay, I think I’m okay now.  

I continue to smoke.  I smoke pretty quickly during the winter season, mainly because it’s too cold to be outside for too long.  Plus, the neighbors may get suspicious that I smoke and call the cops.  

They wouldn’t do that though.  Would they?

And, shit, I think it’s cashed.  

Dump the remnants over the side of the porch.

Wait.

Is it possible for the remnants to grow overtime?  Like, what if there is actually still a bit of weed left and it’s enough to grow into a plant?  Which sounds great in theory, but what if someone discovers it and reports me?  Shit.  No.  I can’t dump it here.  It’s too risky.  

I could flush it!  Genius!  Smoking always makes you smarter.  That’s why Benjamin Franklin smoked so much.  

I turn towards the door and walk back inside the much warmer house.

I should probably clean out my bowl before I forget.  

I walk into the kitchen, taking in the milky tan color of the walls of my house.  I never really noticed how beautiful the walls are here.  They’re actually quite stunning.

Fucking dishes!  I’ll just move them to one side of the sink.

I move two of the plates from one basin to the other, making room for me to clean my bowl.

That’s better.  

I begin to scrub my bowl under the flowing warm water with a nearby cloth.  This is an amazing bowl.  I’ve never had any other bowl, but I feel like this particular bowl is far-better crafted than most other bowls.  It just seems to work really well.  

Okay, bowl is rinsed.  Weed is still on the table.  Grinder is set beside it.  Everything is zen.  Got my grapes.  I’m ready for the couch.  

I walk out of the kitchen and into the living room, standing directly in front of the couch.

“Do your thing, couch.” I say, plopping down, immediately stretching out with my head on one end and my feet on the other.

Such a magical feeling, really.  Lying on your couch after a good smoke.  You just feel one with the couch.  

What the fuck am I saying?

Shit.

Did I lock the door?  

I did.

Didn’t I?

Is that knocking?

No.  It’s just the heat turning on.

Ah, the warmth feels great.  Luckily the vent is right by my face, so I’m getting all the warm air.  

I had tension that I didn’t even know I had.  My neck feels amazing right now.  My head doesn’t feel heavy.  It’s a peaceful feeling.  

Did I lock the door?

Wait.  I just asked that, didn’t I?  That was like, five minutes ago, though.  Man, I hope I did.  

I struggle to lift myself from the couch just enough to get a glimpse at the door..  My vision is blurry as shit right now.

I didn’t!

Shit.  I can’t believe someone didn’t walk in.  

I quickly sit up, fighting the vertigo and run to the door.  I lift up on the lock.

There.  Locked.  

Right?

I mean, I see that it’s locked, but I should probably pull on the door handle to make sure.

I give the door a series of pulls, testing the durability of the lock.  

Yeah, it’s locked.  

What if someone came in while it was unlocked?

No.  No one came in.  You would have noticed.  

Don’t be paranoid.  Eat your grapes and relax.

I walk back to the couch, reach into the bag of grapes, picking a few as I do, and lay down.

I should really stop smoking.  I always get like this.  It’s not worth it.  

NO!  

Stop those negative thoughts.  You’ll have a really bad high and you don’t want that.  I’m just going to close my eyes and ride the wave.  I should turn on some music, but that requires me to get up and get my phone from the other room.  Is it worth it?  Sure, it is.  Then I can actually lay in bed and go to sleep.  

Okay, one, two, three, and up!  

Standing is hard!

I’m going to collapse on my bed when I...wait.  I never went to my bedroom.  Shit, my phone was under me the entire time.  

I have a message.  What do I do?  Should I read it?  If I do, I’ll be tempted to respond, and I do NOT need to do that.  

I’m not going to respond.  

I’m just going to put my phone on the table in front of me and just relax.  Relaxation is my friend and I’m hanging out.  I place the phone on the table in front of me.

Okay, so maybe it won’t hurt to read it.  

I grab the phone and unlock it.

“Was it a good wedding?  I don’t remember.”

What the fuck is she talking about?

Oh!  Shit!  That’s right.  I said the thing.  Yeah, I can’t respond to that right now.  Back on the table you go!  

How do I even respond to that?  I can’t even begin to formulate the words for that kind of thing right now.  Like, I guess it was good?  I could type that.  No.  Formulate your thoughts when you’re sober, man!  

Doesn’t remember our wedding?  I laugh at your forgetfulness!  You were probably too busy being blackout drunk!  

That’s not bad, actually.  I may have to spruce it up a bit, though.  Okay.  Come here, phone.  

Let me up, couch!

After struggling for a minute, I sit up and grab my phone from the table.

Gotcha!

Okay, so, let’s see here.  

“Wait, you don’t remember?!  I was banking on you to remind me how it went.  Guess we were too wasted from the open bar.”

There.  That should work.  Should I put an emoji?  No, emojis are stupid.  Don’t be lame!  

Send!

Okay, back to the table you go, and back into the couch I go.  

That wasn’t too bad of a response, right?  Nah, it’s fine.  You’re fine.  You’re just freaking out.  It’s natural.  Everything is great.  

Okay.  I should really go to bed.  I need to sleep.  I’m not mentally prepared for this.  

Last time, couch.  

I push myself up from the couch and walk towards my bedroom.

I gently place myself onto my bed and pull the covers up to face because it’s fucking cold.  

I shut my eyes and prepare for glorious sleep.

Wait.  

Did I lock the door?

[renwritesstuff]

Downtime Drabble: “useless”

Also on AO3. Approximately 2,736 words.

Prompt #19 for Shaynor: "kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing"

Samantha Traynor glared from across the cabin, a datapad in hand. She sat on the low couch, her mind spinning with potential strategy.

Her target: Annelise Shepard.

Her objective: Revenge.

The datapad glowed with the book Sam had been attempting to read earlier (a trashy romance novel downloaded from Allers’ collection of trash). It had been an excellent morning ritual. A nice little balance of fluff and smut and drama. The asari heroine was torn between her two lovers, a proud quarian warrior and a demure salarian envoy.

Perfect for a quiet morning in on her (their) day off. Then Shepard had gone and ruined it for sport. And Sam was determined to make her pay.

Sam was just minding her own business, reading her book in her pajamas and sipping her coffee. A picture-perfect houseguest in Shepard’s cozy captain’s quarters. Annelise had been at her giant aquarium feeding her (2nd generation) collection of fish when it started.

Light and casual, Annelise had asked, “Whatcha readin’?”

“Oh… you know,” Sam hummed back distractedly.

“I do not, actually,” Annelise retorted. “…is this an Allers book?” Her tone suggested an accusation.

Sam didn’t even need to look up to sense the narrowed-eyed look in her direction. Sam deflected with a chuckle. “If you already know, why did you ask?”

A scolding tsk sound deep in Shepard’s throat. “You’re gonna to be ‘bloody useless’ today, aren’t you?” Her attempt at mimicking Sam’s accent was atrocious at best.

“That was the plan, darling,” Sam replied with a sip of her coffee.

Alira and Zeva gazed into each other’s eyes.

“But what about Sirin?” Zeva asked, her glowing eyes slanted with worry under her red mask.

“Sirin is amazing… but she’s not you. No one is you,” Alira replied, hands reaching for—

Annelise’s voice broke into her thoughts. “How about a game of chess?”

Glancing up, Sam’s lips quirked in a smile. “We lent my set to Ashley, remember? So she and Tali could have a row of the minds rather than the fists?”

I would know: I had to run the betting pool.

Three to one Ashley because she’s familiar with the game. And a bigger nerd than she cares to admit.

Four to one Tali because she’s an engineering genius. And ridiculously competitive according to Garrus.

Too close to call, honestly.

Can’t wait for the prelims to end so I can put some credits down. …I say Tali. Shepard says Ashley.

“Oh… right.” The disappointment on Annelise’s face actually made Sam smile wider.

But Sam continued reading.

—hands reaching for Zeva’s. Her fingers stroked the soft texture of the biosuit.

The quarian was uncertain, but melted into the asari’s touch. She—

“You up for a movie? I can rustle up some freeze-dried popcorn from the Mess Sergeant. How about Blasto 2? I hear the director’s cut has some epic commentary…”

Her eyes flicking back up to Annelise, Sam gave a nonchalant shrug. “Maybe later? Not really feeling popcorn first thing in the morning.” She made an exaggerated expression of disgust, her tongue lolling out.

Popcorn mixed with coffee? Blech.

No thank you.

The woman’s cheeks puffed out with an exasperated exhale, her messy red bangs wafting slightly in the breeze. “You’re just gonna sit there and read all morning?”

“That was my plan, yes,” Samantha airily replied as she took a dramatic coffee slurp this time. She made a show of snuggling against the apex of the L-shaped couch, her legs splayed out comfortably across the length.

—She leaned forward of her own accord. Zeva’s right hand traced along the familiar contours of Alira’s cheek all the way to her crest. She fondly remembered the last time they—

The couch shifted as Annelise sat down at Sam’s right. Her peripheral vision caught a pair of fingertips walking towards her thigh. Tilting her chin towards Shepard, Sam’s eyes remained on her book. “Don’t you have a new model you were dying to work on? Perhaps now would be a good time to start?”

“Perhaps,” came the insincere reply. Those fingertips crept up Sam’s thigh and began to stroke inward. The couch shifted again as Annelise scooted closer, her hot breath tickling at Sam’s neck.

Still not looking over, Samantha asked, “Something on your mind, darling? …You really don’t do well sitting idle, do you?” She couldn’t keep amusement out of her voice.

Frankly, dear: you’re absolute rubbish at it.

“Why be idle, when we could…” Annelise trailed off as her lips found Sam’s exposed collarbone.

Biting her lower lip, Sam had inwardly scowled.

Stay strong, Traynor.

“Because learning to be still is absolutely lovely. You should give it some practice. Perhaps right now, for example.”

That same, insincere “Perhaps” was whispered back as those lips kissed their way up Sam’s neck now.

Yes...

No, it’s fine. I am reading my bloody book.

…Where was I? Oh yes, Zeva and Alira were finally back together.

“Shepard…” Samantha warned. She kept her eyes petulantly glued to her book, determined to stay unruffled.

Another shift on the couch. Annelise had moved her body against Sam’s elbow and side. Fingertips gently pushed back the loose, messy black hair around Samantha’s throat to allow easier access. Those breathless kisses continued up to Sam’s jawline.

Sam warned again but her heart wasn’t in it. “Shepard…” It came out more as a whine.

Annelise knew she’d won and pressed her advantage. With warm fingertips, she tilted Sam’s chin towards her and kissed deeply. The datapad slipped from Sam’s grasp and slid down her thigh to the floor with a clattering sound.

Turning, Sam tangled her fingers in Annelise’s hair as they laid back on the couch exchanging soft kisses. Every so often there would be a pause and a smile before continuing. During one such reprieve, Samantha whispered, “You are absolutely terrible.”

“I know,” was the husky reply. Annelise started to pull at Sam’s t-shirt, her exhale-laugh a warm breath on Sam’s cheek. Sam traced her own fingers along the elastic of Annelise’s waistband and started to tug downward.

A familiar voice came over the cabin intercom.

[“Commander Shepard, you have an incoming message from the Fifth Fleet. Admiral Hackett is requesting your presence immediately.”]

“Don’t. You. Bloody. Dare. Shepard.” Sam spat every word as she glared up at the woman.

Annelise at least had the decency to look apologetic, but she stood up all the same. Leaving Sam half-reclined on the couch with her shirt half-off.

Her grin was both sheepish and wicked. “Sorry, Sam. Duty calls?” Smoothing a hand over her own casual clothes and messy hair, Annelise headed for the stairs.

Spying Shepard’s N7 hoodie on the coffee table, Sam leaned over to snag it and threw it the woman. She was aiming for her face. “You will pay for this. You will suffer and I will laugh and laugh and laugh.”

The woman easily caught the jacket and nodded her thanks. Annelise stuck one arm through it as she made her way to the doorway. Her voice was sing-song. “Thanks, darling! Enjoy your book!” And with that, Shepard disappeared through the cabin doors.

Samantha scooped up the datapad on the floor after pulling her shirt back down. She was grinding her teeth as she struggled to find her bookmark. But it was useless. Her concentration was broken.

Sighing, Sam headed for the shower and turned the knobs.

Shepard would pay for this.

It was hard to fume all alone in a room for two hours. But Sam found a way, mostly by plotting revenge.

Tickle her to death? …She’s not very ticklish. You are, though. And she’s far stronger.

Spike her coffee? …With what? Some harsh language?

Break… something? …Awfully childish and awfully dickish.

Poison her fish? …Jesus, Traynor. Too dark.

Rearrange the room? …Oh yea, a little feng shui will really show her.

…Pretty much any strategy that involves leaving the cabin with you in your skivvies is out, Traynor. Or anything physical, because she’s Commander bloody Shepard and you’re a wet noodle by comparison.

She has to pay!

The solution is so bloody obvious, Traynor. Outsmart her.

What do you think I’ve been trying to do for the last couple hours?

Whinge and moan, mostly. Think, Traynor. Give her a piece of her own medicine.

Hmmmmmmm.

EDI’s voice came over the intercom once more. [“Per your request, Commander Shepard is on her way back to her quarters. You have approximately 76 seconds until her estimated time of arrival, Specialist Traynor.”]

“Thank you, EDI.”

[“I am pleased to assist.”]

Composing herself back on the couch, Samantha tamed her still-damp hair and propped the datapad on her knees. Also thinking better of it, Sam pulled down one strap of her clean camisole. Just for good measure.

5… 4… 3… 2…

A moment later, the Captain’s Cabin doors swished open and Annelise Shepard strode back inside.

“Welcome back, darling. A good call, then?” Sam asked, her voice light and airy. She stared at the datapad, the words blurred together and nonsensical at this point. Her fingers stroked a mug of tea at her side, the scent of honey drifting up with the steam.

“The usual. Some unusual Reaper activity to investigate,” Annelise replied, her footsteps timid as she approached the stairs. “Look, Sam… about before—“

Sam cut her off, a sweet smile pulling her cheeks. “Oh, don’t worry about it, Shepard. Duty calls and all that. I completely understand.”

“So you’re not mad?”

Still not looking up, Samantha asked, “What is there to be mad about?”

Just you working me up and leaving right when things got good? It’s fine, you tosser. Just fine.

“Okay… if you’re sure. I didn’t mean to just… We could pick up where we—?“

“Forgiven and forgotten, darling,” Sam interrupted again, this time allowing her eyes the barest flick upward. “Part of the life we chose, since you’re rather important to this whole war effort business.” She even managed a wink.

“True…”

Sam smiled sweetly at Annelise, who dug her toe in the stairs with a sheepish smile back. “Why don’t you work on that new model you picked up at the Citadel? Give me a chance to finish my book?” Sam asked as she saluted with her mug of tea.

“Okay…” Annelise trailed off fretfully but didn’t argue. She sidestepped over to her desk just above where Sam sat on the couch.

The woman sounded so genuinely apologetic that Sam almost started to feel bad about being pissy.

…Almost.

Sipping her honeyed tea, Samantha carefully listened from her vantage point on the couch. A scrape of plastic on a container, the rustle of sheets of ship parts, the snap of the clasp on Shepard’s model assembly tools… Annelise had started a ritual of her own.

But not just yet. She was waiting for the right moment.

She knew it well. She’d seen it so many times before. There was this threshold of investment that Shepard had to cross in her brain, where she went from distant to completely absorbed.

Forever all-in, and all that.

It happened in battle (usually immediately). It happened when Shepard was studying the galaxy map for their next objectives. It happened when she played chess or a video game or watched a movie with Sam. Or when they made love.

There would be this intense line of focus across Annelise’s brow, her mouth would get small, and those green eyes would sparkle with ferocity.

It even happened when Shepard was building her ship models… usually around 15 minutes into the process. Just enough time for her quick mind to assess all the pieces and start to build.

Standing up to stretch, Samantha tried to be casual as she glanced over at Annelise at her desk (through the glass case of already-built models).

There she was. Gaze focused. Shoulders hunched. Fingers nimble.

Time to strike.

Sam mumbling something about needing to pee as she made her way over to the bathroom. Annelise didn’t so much as glance over, though she did make a vaguely acknowledging grunt-and-nod.

She gave the toilet a hand wave to trigger the flush sensor before creeping back around behind Shepard.

This was the hard part that Sam had labored over in her mind. She couldn’t just sneak attack the woman. That was the fastest way to get accidentally punched in the face from those marine reflexes.

No, it had to be casual. Make Annelise aware of her presence but still suspect nothing until it was too late.

Clearing her throat, Sam slid along the side of the L-shaped desk closest to the bathroom. “I was thinking of grabbing lunch later. Maybe see Allers after? Talk about her awful smut-book?”

“Sounds good, darling,” Annelise muttered back, her shoulders twitching as she worked.

Hmmmm…

Sam narrowed her eyes and tilted her head as she approached Annelise’s right elbow. “I was also thinking of taking off all my clothes and dancing naked in the drive core. I hear the radiation is great for your skin.”

“Sounds good, darling,” Annelise repeated, her voice a disinterested mumble.

Perfect.

There was this one spot, just behind the woman’s right ear near her neck, that drove Annelise wild. It was there Sam focused her effort. Running her hand gently up Shepard’s elbow, Sam leaned in as she pushed the short red hair back.

“Does it ‘sound good, darling?’” Sam echoed with a husky whisper before flicking her tongue over That Spot. She then blew a small breath where her tongue had touched and saw goosebumps raise.

The response was immediate. A sharp intake of breath and Annelise’s shoulders stiffened.

But Sam didn’t stop there. Her left hand wandered along the other side of Annelise’s neck and slipped in under her hoodie. A line was drawn with a fingernail down her collarbone to a breast. Just as the hand drew lower, Annelise turned in her chair to kiss Sam. Hard.

Sam felt herself pulled into Shepard’s lap. She grinned as the woman again captured her lips in a deep, lip-biting kiss.

Annelise pulled away, her mouth ghosting over Sam’s with light almost-bites. She whispered, “I knew you weren’t going to let me off so easy.”

“What can I say? I hold a grudge,” Samantha replied with a wink. “Especially when you don’t let me be useless.”

An exhale-laugh. “I promise to… try to be better. It’s just so hard to—“ Annelise trailed off, her nose wrinkling in consideration.

“Give yourself a moment to breathe? To think?” Sam supplied. She traced a fingertip along Annelise’s jaw. “Building a model or reading a book doesn’t mean you’re not 100% dedicated to the war effort, love.”

The woman frowned, but didn’t argue with Sam’s words. She gave a begrudging shrug. “Maybe you’re right…”

“I’m always right,” Samantha confirmed with a grin and nose-kiss.

Annelise smiled warmly and kissed Sam’s nose back. “Thank God I have a smart ass Comm Officer around to keep me in line.” Her eyes sparkled wickedly as she leaned back in. “Now… where were we?”

And with that, Sam stood up with a theatric yawn. “I just remembered, I need to go talk to Allers about this awful book I borrowed. You understand, right? Darling?” That last word had a hard edge.

She patted Annelise’s cheek condescendingly before turning on her heel and headed for the doors. There was a small pop accompanied by a flash of blue light. Suddenly, Annelise was standing directly in front of Sam in the hallway, crackles of biotic threads fading from around her body.

“Oh?” Sam asked airily. “Something you needed to tell me?” She smiled back with mock-sweetness.

“Something I needed to show you, actually,” Annelise said before scooping up Samantha and carrying her back to the bed.

The doors swished shut behind them.