#vinyl football pants

[m4movies]

TOM FORD

[selyeji]

nouvelle vague

joão felix x reader

summary : you were simply an intern and he was on loan, you’ll blame the full moon.

warnings : not proofread, angst, joao is toxic and stupid, m*gui…

you stood on the elevator, holding onto your bag with both your hands. legs crossing while you lean against the railing, your gaze lowered to the floor. it was your first day as an intern, helping in the clubs social media and journalism.

the chimes of the door open, from your gaze you saw white sneakers, black pants and a pair of football cleats. dangling from his index and middle finger to carry it around. assuming he was a player for the club, you raise your head looking at his face. the bright lights of the elevator made his brown hair glow, his eyes were hooded and dark, ears busy listening to music.

softly sending a smile and a nod towards him, to show proper respect. he smiles back as he places his focus on pressing the buttons for his floor. you started to scrape off a hangnail on a finger of yours, it was a bad habit if yours. you did it to distract yourself or whenever you felt nervous.

the football player arrived on his floor first, footsteps echoed through the empty hallways once he exited the elevator. as you went up, you fixed your posture, eating a mint and fixing your hair. nervous for the new work space.

the moment you entered the office, your boss guided you around to introduce you. arriving to your own table, you started to place your things down. arranging a few files, pens and your laptop.

deciding to check on the photographers kn the training ground, you walk outside to the field. immediately facing the blue sky and green grass. jogging over to the area where most staff sat, creating small talk. until you saw those familiar boots again, white with cuts of grass under its heel.

the brown haired man from earlier, his hair messed up and the sun creating light highlights on his curls. it wasn’t until now you had a good look at him. he was handsome, perfect smile. your pupils darting up and down to look at his muscular but slim form.

…

the day started to pass by, the sun rays peeping out the pink blue clouds. you started to gather the necessities back in your bag, greeting you co-workers on your way out. you waited for the elevator once again to reach your floor, the doors slide open.

the player from earlier, met again. you were surprised, majority already went home. he was still in the building while you were expecting to get back alone. you shrugged it off, it was your first day either way. you wouldn’t know their schedule, maybe you were the one getting into their usual routine. he softly greeted you, recognizing you from earlier that day.

…

in the next days of the week, getting into the same elevator and seeing the same face. this became a daily routine of seeing other. you two got closer and closer, introducing each other and usually creating small talk. it was nice to get closer to someone aside from the people in the shared office.

it was after a long day of work, sun already set as the purple sky blended. you decided to visit a nearby music shop, it was your go-to shop whenever searching for vinyls or cds. the cashier already recognizes your face from the amount of times you visited.

pushing the glass door, entering the warm room. you already had your earphones on walking over to the cd section. looking over the new albums released, the arrangement wasn’t really organized by genre.

your peace was disturbed with a male voice, removing one of your earbuds. you look up to see joão, he smiled at you, showing his straight white teeth.

“i love the smiths” he said, referring to the album you were holding. you were a bit taken back, of course they’re known worldwide but here? not as much. “The Queen Is Dead is my personal favorite album. what about you?” he continued and asked you.

“Louder Than Bombs.” you grin sweetly at him, a bit of pink tint on your cheeks. he still stood on the opposite side, you two separated by the racks of cds on your side while vinyls on his. joão starts to look through the vinyl albums.

“you prefer vinyls over cds?” you ask him. continue to looking for yours. “of course, the albums are big enough to flex your music taste to people.” he joked. you chuckle, “im more of a cd person, you could listen to it everywhere.”

you two continued to talk, wasting the time in the store. recommending albums to each other, you two shared a passion for music, whether it was rap, r&b, jazz, pop or whatever. the two of you said your goodbyes once he left the store. you stood on the counter, deciding to buy the albums he recommended.

you rushed back home, your smile did not leave your face at all even after he left. quickly taking a warm shower, feeding your cat before going over to your desk.

turning on your lamp and cd player, before taking out the cd from the case and putting it on the player. you look at track-list while listening. based from the titles, you were expecting more love songs. you listen through the entire album, it was more of soft songs but it was for sure a great album. turning off the light, deciding to go to sleep.

…

you woke up early as usual, doing your daily routine before going off to work. you usually brought your own burnt cd with your custom playlist, but deciding to bring the other album you bought. deciding to listen to it on the way with your portable cd player.

once you arrived, elevator with him again. you both smile at each other. joao notices the music you were listening to, grinning to himself. but decided not to disturb you as usual.

you arrive to your office, quietly working on your own until you realize you finish the entire tracklist already. deciding to check up on the photographers on the field once again.

joao kept looking at you more than usual, smiling more until you noticed. once it got repetitive you just gave a lazy confused face, making him laugh. you went back to the office continuing your work.

the day ended, stretching your back while walking to the elevator. joao was already there as usual, he raises your brow at you while smiling. giving him a confused look you asked “what?”

“how was the album i gave you? didn’t think you would actually listen to my recommendations.” you connected the dots realizing he heard it blasting too loud earlier.

“surprisingly good from you. both albums were pretty great. plus whats the point of recommending if you’re not gonna listen anyways?” you raise your chin, smiling.

“hey wait surprisingly? what does that mean?” he asks, acting offended.

“nothing, if you heard it earlier, why didn’t you ask beforehand?” you chuckle. “i don’t wanna disturb you while listening to ethereal music. especially coming from me.” he says in a sassy tone. you laugh it off with him.

ever since then the two of you got close, always striking a conversation whenever you saw each other. whether it was on the field or not. the two of you definitely shared a lot of interests. it made you way more comfortable in your work space.

…

the sky was pitch midnight, the glowing of night life clubs became a source or light. you walk around the neon lights finding a specific bar. a friend of yours was performing tonight. they weren’t a big hit band but they still performed gigs often.

you walked in with a large crowd already waiting, the band was already preparing their instruments onstage. deciding to go the bar next to it, ordering a juice. you definitely did not want to deal with a headache in the morning.

before you knew it, the drummer started counting and the performance started. you still sat on the stool, taking sips every so often.

you felt a tap behind your shoulder, you turned your head, checking behind you. joao looking down on you smiling, he wore a white hoodie and black pants.

“mind if i sit next to you?” he asked, his head nodding to the side to the empty seat next to you. you smiled softly and said sure.

“didn’t know you went to these kinds of places.” joao yelled through the loud music and guitar. “im only here to support my friend actually, she’s the bass player over there.” you yelled back, pointing to your friend on the stage.

looking back to joao, the blue and purple lights that spread throughout the room, hitting his face. his eyes were already staring into yours, reflecting the bright lights in the room but kept it on yours.

your faces got closer, elbow leaning on the counter. your eyes going back and forth from his eyes to his full lips. before your lips could even collide, you two were distracted by the sudden yell of the crowd. a impressive guitar solo started playing, the room filled with cheers and claps. you laughed at joaos face while clapping, your romantic session ended.

leaning near to his neck you whisper, “let’s continue this later…” saying in a playful tone. you maintain eye contact as you smile.

once the performance ended, you greeted your friend goodbye after creating small talk. you walk out, already seeing joao waiting for you. he looks up from his phone, smirking. “let’s go, i know a spot.” he said, his hand out inviting you to hold hands.

grabbing his palm, intertwining hands. he walks you to the beach, it had a way nicer view of the ocean, you haven’t discovered this place before. he sat on the sand, tapping the empty spot beside him insisting you sit down.

you sat on the grainy sand, looking up to the night sky. it was a full moon, stars behind it but still shining in their own way. bringing your legs to your chest, you look beside you to see joao. his hands behind to lean on the ground.

moonlight reflected to his defined cheekbones, he raised his hand up to your jaw. dark pupils staring into your eyes, tucking a hair strand behind your ear before kissing you. your body started leaning against his, pushing the kiss further and further.

once you two separated, catching your breath. your head rested on his shoulder, refusing to look him on the face. too embarrassed on what would happen now. joao broke the silence through his giggle, picking you up while your legs hugged around his waist and your arms snake around his neck.

he carried you over to his car, which was surprisingly parked just nearby the beach. putting you down on the passenger seat, kissing your forehead in the process. once he got to the drivers seat, immediately leaning to rest his back.

“open up the compartment.” joao said, smirking as his hands rise up to the back of his head. you raise a brow while pouting your lips, wondering what he was talking about, your muscles immediately soften. the compartment was filled with cd cases.

“woah… i thought you were a vinyl person…” you said, still amazed looking at the different music you still haven’t listened to.

“can’t play them in a car no?” he laughs it off. you look over to him, the muscles in his arm clearly defined and showing. his white teeth showing through his perfect smile. you blush, admiring his features.

…

since that night, you and joao have gotten way closer than before. more than friends, but you weren’t even sure what was going on between you two.

he’d often let you stay at his house, play video games, cook, eat, shower together, make love. you two were like a couple, not publicly.

you laid down on joaos couch, waiting for him to get back home. scrolling through the internet finding something to entertain yourself with, you come across an interview. it was pretty recent from twitter, you play it to see joao.

smiling to yourself until the interview asked, “are you currently in a relationship? seeing someone?”

“no, im not seeing anyone right now.”

“so you’re available?”

“yes.”

his answer echoed in your head, repeating and repeating. sure you were fine with being private, especially with pressure in social media, but this?

publicly saying you’re available, acting like a person wasn’t waiting for you back home. you were tipped off, pissed even. did he not consider you worthy? were you just a replacement until he found someone new?

you turned off your phone, hand hanging off the side of the couch as you grip onto your device. staring onto the blank ceiling, the white light bulb still lighting up the room. the door creaks open, you raise your head to see joao entering the house. removing his shoes before stepping in. he walked over to you as you stood up, embracing you into a hug.

“hey babyy…” he mumbled. he was soft with you, in the field he’s fiery and aggressive but now he’s just soft and sweet. you heart warmed up, forgetting about the interview, passing it off as wanting to keep things more private and secured.

“let’s just take a shower can we… scrub my back for me?” he asked, using his dark puppy eyes again to get what he wants, his cheeks pouting. “fine…” you smiled, before leading him into the bathroom.

…

you forgot about that day, what happened. well you tried, you kept getting reminded about it. you were paranoid if he was out with someone else. you never showed it to him or anyone else. you acted unbothered.

you were at your office, getting off your seat for lunch break. you decide to go out to eat, forgetting to pack your own lunch. you walked to a nearby cafe, it was a local shop, not much customers around this time. you ordered a coffee and pasta. you sat down waiting for your order, scrolling in tiktok until you come across and familiar face, with another one.

you look closer to find joao, sat with magui in a restaurant. he only got back from international break a few days ago. you were heartbroken, everything inside you shattered to pieces.

scrolling through the comments on how he doesn’t learn his lesson and never move on. they were always right, he never made an effort to move on. your name was called, you order was already ready. turning off your phone to clear your thoughts and to bring back your tray.

you began eating your food, staring out the cafes glass window. blankly staring as people walked pass, going on with their day. you were finished with him, he was an asshole from the start.

after you finished your food, you went back to work. letting the hours pass by. but your thoughts never left, your legs bounced the whole time, you couldn’t focus properly.

your shift ended, you quickly grabbed your bag and things. going onto the elevator, unfortunately he was already there. you kept the gaze of your eyes lowered, not getting even a view of his face. quickly just wanting to get out.

you had your earphones on, nothing played. you just wanted joao to get off your back for now, once the doors opened. you rushed out, quickly running out the building. unfortunately joao caught up, he knew something happened to you.

he grabbed your wrist, making you turn to him. you stopped on your tracks, facing him, your eyes filled with hatred. joao was taken back.

“what happened baby?” he asked, his tone filled with pure sweetness.

this time you didn’t soften, you were done with him.

“seriously you’re gonna act nothing happened? with magui?” you took your hand back.

he was shock, his eyes widened. he didn’t expect her to find out, nor anyone.

“please i can explain darling-“ his face turned into a worry look.

“oh so you can call me a pet name but can’t even place a label between us?” you cut him off. “us? you really think friends would do anything like we do? after everything? don’t try to establish a relationship you don’t want.” you continued. tears started to build up in your eyes.

you ran off, before anyone could see you. getting into your apartment before breaking down. everything felt heavy, like the world was against you. your bedsheets stained with tears that will last.

…

it’s been weeks since then, you decide to walk over to the shore. its late at night, you couldn’t sleep from all the energy drinks you consumed from wanting to study longer. the moon was bright as ever.

you saw that same spot again, where everything started. you internship has ended while joaos loan contract wasn’t extended. you were glad you didn’t get to see him anymore. he’s back at portugal, but you also knew he would get to see magui again.

there was nothing you could do now, joao was cruel and deep like the ocean. but it would make sense if magui was the moon, affecting him like the ocean depended on her. you were simply a star, something you look for when the moon is not at sight.

daily click to help palestine

a/n : w2e save me… please save me w2e if you can hear me please😭😭 sorry but every good romcom mentions the smiths therefore it needs a place here

[thegatesofsilverandbone]

Hannah was never much of a sports fan. She’d always preferred books and art over the chaos of a crowded stadium or the physical demands of gym class. But there was something oddly comforting about vintage sports gear. The dusty old baseball glove her grandfather once wore, the worn leather bat she’d found in her parents’ attic—these relics spoke of a different time, a time when things were simpler, and perhaps, in some way, more magical.

That’s what drew her to the resale store in the first place. It was a small, out-of-the-way shop that specialized in the unusual and the forgotten. Shelves lined with old vinyl records, antique furniture, and, tucked away in the back corner, a rack of vintage clothing. It was here, hidden between an old letterman jacket and a tattered football jersey, that she found it: a dusty old baseball uniform.

The uniform was nothing special at first glance—a pair of grey pants, a slightly yellowed white shirt with blue pinstripes, and a cap with a faded “L” emblazoned on the front. But something about it caught Hannah’s eye. Maybe it was the feel of the fabric, heavy and worn, or the faint scent of sweat and tobacco that lingered in the fibers. Whatever it was, she felt compelled to try it on.

Hannah made her way to the back of the store, pushing aside a velvet curtain that led to the dressing room. The space was cramped, with a single mirror leaning against the wall and a small bench to sit on. The light was dim, casting long shadows that seemed to flicker and dance as she closed the curtain behind her.

She slipped off her sneakers and jeans, carefully folding them before placing them on the bench. The baseball pants felt strange against her skin—rough and heavy, like they were meant for someone much larger. The shirt hung loosely on her frame, the sleeves extending well past her fingertips. But it was the cap that sealed the deal. As soon as she placed it on her head, a wave of dizziness washed over her, forcing her to sit down.

Hannah took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the feeling only intensified. Her hands began to tingle, and she looked down to see her fingers thickening, the nails growing blunt and rough. Panic set in as she watched her hands swell, the skin darkening as hair sprouted along her knuckles and the back of her hands.

She stood up quickly, but the movement sent another wave of dizziness crashing through her. She gripped the edge of the bench for support, but her legs were already changing, the muscles bulging and tightening beneath the fabric of the pants. Her feet lengthened, toes curling as they stretched, bursting out of her socks.

Her breathing quickened, and she staggered over to the mirror. The face that stared back at her was no longer her own. Her jaw was broadening, her cheeks filling out as a dark shadow of stubble erupted across her skin. Her eyes, once wide and blue, darkened to a deep brown, the shape of them narrowing as they settled into a more angular form.

Hannah’s hairline receded as her forehead expanded, her features hardening into those of a man in his late twenties. A strong, Roman nose and high cheekbones added to the distinctly Latino look that was forming before her eyes. She reached up to touch her face, but the sight of her hands—thick and calloused, with hair sprouting up her forearms—sent a jolt of fear through her. She turned away from the mirror, but the transformation was happening too quickly for her to escape it.

Her shoulders broadened, the seams of the shirt straining against the growing muscles. Her chest flattened, but it wasn’t a reduction—rather, it was the building of muscle, the creation of a strong, athletic physique that now filled out the uniform with ease. She could feel her waist thickening, her hips narrowing as her body reshaped itself into a distinctly masculine form.

Thick, dark hair began to sprout across her chest and arms, curling slightly as it grew. The skin on her torso tanned to a warm brown, and she could feel the texture of her stomach changing, the smooth skin giving way to a trail of hair that led down past the waistband of the pants. Her thighs thickened, powerful muscles bulging beneath the fabric, and she became aware of a new weight between her legs, a clear signal of her transformation.

But it wasn’t just her body that was changing. As her bones lengthened and her muscles grew, memories began to flood her mind. They were alien at first—strange images of a life she had never lived. She saw herself standing on a baseball diamond, the sun beating down as she adjusted her cap, spit on the ground, and took her position at second base. The crowd cheered as the pitcher wound up, and she felt the familiar thrill of anticipation.

No, not her. His. These were his memories.

She tried to hold onto herself, tried to remember her own life, but the details were slipping away, like sand through her fingers. Her name, her face, the things she loved—all of it was fading, being replaced by something new, something stronger.

Hannah—no, Danny, that was his name—Danny Rivera. He was a baseball player, a good one too. He’d played in college, then spent a few years in the minor leagues before making it to the majors. He remembered the first time he stepped onto that big league field, the way his heart pounded in his chest as he looked around at the sea of fans. He’d been so proud, so full of life.

And he was gay, too. That wasn’t something he had always been comfortable with, but it was who he was. He remembered the first time he came out to his team, the fear of rejection, of losing everything he’d worked so hard for. But they’d accepted him, welcomed him even, and he’d never felt more at home than he did in that locker room, surrounded by his teammates.

The last vestiges of Hannah’s thoughts were fading now, her identity melting away into the man she was becoming. She no longer felt out of place in the uniform; it was like a second skin, familiar and comforting. The cap sat perfectly on his head, and as he adjusted it, he caught sight of himself in the mirror once more.

Danny grinned at his reflection, a cocky, confident smile that showed off the dimple in his right cheek. He ran a hand through his short, dark hair, feeling the strength in his fingers, the power in his body. He was back—back where he belonged, in his prime, ready to take on the world.

The curtain rustled as he stepped out of the dressing room, a new man in every sense of the word. The store clerk barely glanced at him as he walked by, simply nodding in acknowledgment as Danny made his way to the door. He didn’t have any money on him, but he figured that didn’t matter. The uniform was his, always had been. Besides, he had a game to get to.

As he stepped out into the bright afternoon sun, Danny took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the crisp, fresh air. The memories of who he had been, of the life he had lived as Hannah, were gone now, replaced by the certainty of his identity as Danny Rivera. He felt strong, confident, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

With a final glance back at the store, he turned and walked down the street, his stride long and purposeful. There was no doubt in his mind that this was where he was meant to be. This was who he was meant to be. And as far as he was concerned, that was the only thing that mattered.

[stylo-90]

5 songs I've been listening to lately, tagged by wonderful girlfriend @digsdigsdigs

Bud Powell, “Tempus Fugue-It” (Jazz Giant 1951) - as a wannabe jazz pianist ive really been trying to absorb Bud’s sound, and this record is what made his appeal click for me. bud is always playing a little faster than he practiced for, but that insistence and driving pulse is what draws me to him - the seat of the pants thing, and he pulls it off in a way no one else could. “Celia” is also really good, i drive around playing that song on repeat trying to sing along in time with all the triplets bud throws in - always when you least expect

Julian Lage, “Tributary” (View with a Room 2022) - this song single-handedly made me believe in guitar tone again. for many months i was in a fugue state convinced that jazz guitar would always be a boring soulless affair, but Julian Lage healed me with a simple application of “touch” and “treble” and “p90 pickups”. they say with guitar , your left (fretting) hand is what you know, and your right (picking) hand is what you are. like a football striker might be said to have a “cultured left foot,” Julian has the most cultured right hand. got put onto this by nashville guitarist and youtuber Rhett Shull who said it’s the greatest guitar tone of all time

J Dilla, “The $” (Ruff Draft 2007) - dilla is such a god of soundscapes. knowing his tragic early death, the way he summoned these sounds out of the long-gone vibrations of ancient vinyl records, it’s almost like he was connected to the main line - like he was plucking frequencies out of the air at will to create a collage. his vocals mix and mush together to become part of the aural melange. he’s so fuckin good man

Barry Harris Trio, “Ornithology” (Breakin’ It Up 1958) - people say Barry is a Bud Powell acolyte but he’s definitely got a different sound to him, lighter, bouncier, cleaner. i’ve been taking group classes with a teacher who studied under Barry, one of the words he uses most is “pretty” and you can really hear that in this record, vs. Bud who’s a little more ramshackle and skin-of-the-teeth (which i prefer tbh)

Thelonious Monk, “Blue Monk” (Thelonious Alone in San Francisco 1959) - i kind of love that twitter morons think monk is bad at piano or whatever, because this is a master class on how to repeat a motif and keep it interesting every time - rhythmic variation, harmonic “out”ness, dissonance, addition of smaller motifs, all solo and live on stage. this is my favorite monk record also, there’s something about the reverb that really gives the feeling of being there in the hall (fugazi hall in san francisco)

tagging uhh @rgr-pop @sivavakkiyar @aviatrix-ash and you

[deada55]

His Life Will Find A Purpose (When the River Meets the Sea) - Chapter 6

crossposting: ao3

work summary: A nine-year old in Tomahawk, WI gets glaucoma surgery over Christmas break.

chapter summary: Pickles and the family spend a day Christmas shopping in a nearby town.

tws: m-slur, violence towards children

Outside a shopping center in Merrill, Pickles sat on a bench facing out towards a T-shaped intersection with one of the biggest, closest, lowest-hanging stoplights Pickles had ever seen. The doors of the little mall were slightly misaligned with where the main street opened up to an entire row of local shops and abandoned storefronts. All around, if it wasn’t frozen, it was wet. Snow trickled down in a soft powder while the salt on the sidewalks made chalky waterlines on everyone’s shoes. Pickles kept his scarf shrugged up over his mouth so his nose wouldn’t be so cold.

He took off his mittens and thumbed over the edges of Luke Skywalker’s plastic clothes in his pocket. He’d started keeping him in his right pocket as the surgery date got closer and closer… It felt like he had someone by his side, like an imaginary friend but less babyish, since he never tried to talk to any of his action figures. Hopefully, even if Santa fell through, he could expect more of them from his aunts and uncles. They bought the same sets sometimes, and if his mom didn’t notice, he got to keep both, gift receipts conveniently destroyed in the bathroom sink. Then, he’d have a backup. An empty pocket didn’t feel quite right anymore, and it’d stopped mattering “who” he brought with him, as long as he had someone.

Maybe a puppy wasn’t a bad wish after all. Someone to walk when he wanted a reason to leave for a couple hours, someone to play with when Seth didn’t want to… boys got dogs all the time, with great success, according to Old Yeller, Where The Red Fern Grows, and Rascal. Shit, how long had Lassie been around? It was like asking for a toy car! Everyone does it!

With his luck, if he did get a dog, it’d like Seth better. But as long as he could pet it, he’d be content. He scrunched his neck into his scarf when the wind changed direction and focused his eyes on the curb. Some romantic image of a wet cardboard box started to swirl around in his mind, wet on the bottom, sinking from the dampness, still but full of whimpering brown bodies with white spots and soft fur and that mushroomy-smelling puppy breath. 

Pickles watched the pavement so he wouldn’t get caught staring, and the nondescript black shoes his father wore looked like everyone else’s.

“Pickles, c’mon.” He looked up through a blowing flurry at his father who was sweating something foul through the neckline of his shirt. “Can’t recognize your dad? Let’s go.” 

He followed his father as he wove around the empty sidewalk until they reached a bar, where his steps were suddenly straight and stable as he climbed the step. It was busy for eleven o’ clock in the morning: a couple guys were playing backgammon in the corner in the only blue vinyl wing-back seats that weren’t showing their golden foam-stuffed cracks to the world. The painted aluminum condom machine against the wall really brought out the gingham tabletops through a thigh grey haze of cigarette smoke. A televised football game played throughout the bar with all the pep of a dirge.

“‘S warm in here,” he muttered, as he tugged on the shoulders of Pickles’ coat. Pickles had to help him with it, but he got it hung up on the coat rack on his own. He dug his naked hands into his empty pants pockets as Calvert led him over to the sticky, honey-colored bar top. He wasn’t cold, no, but he didn’t want to watch as his father half-missed his mouth when he drank. Quietly, Pickles nursed a Coke, which should have felt like a higher honor than it did. Seth usually got the coke, and Seth was the one who played downstairs in the living room after dinner.

A game was playing on the television, but Pickles couldn’t make sense of anything. The commentary sounded like it was in whatever language the people in National Geographic spoke… Portuguese or something. With a ballpoint pen and a napkin, he burnt time trying to draw the smallest checkerboard he could. After filling up two quadrants of the napkin, he tuned back in to the conversation in the bar.

“Hey, is that someone’s kid?”

A couple more people had trickled in while Pickles wasn’t looking, and his father whipped his head around with a smile as big and dramatic as a clown’s, but twice as repulsive. “No, sir! He’s a midget!” He barked out his laughter loud enough to pause the backgammon game, but the new guys retreated to a table and ordered a round of beer, dismissing Calvert. Pickles ducked his head so hopefully no one would see him blush, so he didn’t see his father give them the finger, or the way his eyes had gone all funny.

“Aw, look atcha,” of course his father noticed. “The only reason they see you is ‘cause your hair’s so… so…” He pressed his curled fingers to his lips, speaking through them without relaxing his face. “Distinct. Yeah. You look… extinguished.” Finally, he burped into his hand and Pickles stopped worrying if his father was going to be sick.

The game went into overtime, and one more napkin was completely filled, but it still ended up a draw. The bar started to fill as the early afternoon became a little more like a late afternoon, and the winter sun started to sink. The clock on the wall had stopped, but the bartender turned on the 6:00 news. 

“Dad, should we go find mom?”

“You think we should?”

Calvert looked at Pickles with raised eyebrows and a flattened mouth, but with a sigh through his nose, he dismounted the bar stool. “I guess so. Let’s go to the car.” The bartender coughed to get him to remember the tab, giving Pickles the perfect chance to throw his coat on before he could forget. He checked that he still had his inhaler and Luke Skywalker before they left, then again on on the step of the bar, and once more when they’d crossed the street… His father was walking a little straighter, but holding the contents of his pockets kept him from worrying.

He followed his Dad back towards the shopping center and it’s parking lot, but the longer they trailed around, dodging cars backing out, the weirder it got to see nothing at all that looked like their family car. Then again, all the cars looked the same, and they all blended into the paint of the shops and the… the treeline? Was it a building or the edge of a forest haunting the darkness below the sky?

“Pickles, do you see the damn car?”

“No, dad.”

“Shit, I guess you can’t. Well, me neither!” He whooped and caught Pickles by the shoulder, pulling him close to his side and giving him a hard squeeze. “Don’t worry. Your mama’s got the keys.” 

He brought Pickles under one of the lamps lighting the parking lot and waited fifteen minutes or so until their salt-stained Town & Country pulled up, shining like the back of a spoon covered in slushy, sooty ice. 

When Mom got mad, she got quiet, but when she was really mad, Seth wouldn’t move an inch. He was paralyzed in the backseat, training his eyes towards his shoes.

“Get in the damn car.” She cawed through a cracked passenger-side window.

While Dad shambled into the front seat, she raced out, slamming her seat belt buckle in the door. Before Pickles could touch the handle, she grabbed him by the elbow, dragged him around to the back of a car, and leaned him against the trunk. A fluffy fog streamed out of the exhaust pipe and blew back on both of their faces. 

His mom was taller than him, but she was taller than most everybody else's moms too, and she was bent practically at the waist to get to his eye level. Her hands gripped both of his biceps until it ached through his coat and his sweater.

"Listen to me. You have no idea how much trouble you're in. Do you think it's funny to walk off when I trusted you to stay put?"

"But Dad came-"

Her nostrils flared. "Don't you start. You shut your mouth and l-"

"Mom," Before he could stop himself, he tried again to tell her what happened.

"Stop! Stop talking!" She screeched over him, glasses reflecting into his face, until his lips clung to his teeth.

"Oh, don't you start. Don't you cry, Pickles, or I'll give you something to cry about when you get home. Do you know I spent all day buying you and Sethy your Christmas presents?" She cut her eyes over to the right as a car rolled past them, then resumed with a slower, more deliberate tone of voice.

"I spent all day buying your gifts and now all I want to do is throw them away. You’ve been like this all day long. You didn't want to wake up and come with us as a family,"

"Mom-"

"Pickles!" Her right hand snapped across his cheek. "Listen!"

Every crack in her Mary Kay makeup laid on top of a layer of frustration and disgust harder than stone.

There wasn't another mother waiting in the wings to save him, so he studied the mica glint of her blush in another car’s headlights.

"See-" she snarled, "See, what the problem is with you is that you're entitled. You don't know what work goes into all this shit and you don't care, either. You find what's wrong with it and nothing makes you happy, nothin’ ! You made me think I'm a bad mom— I told you where to be and you left, and here I am looking stupid trying to find you and your father. Shame on you!"

Molly stood up, shuffling her aching feet. "Wait until we get home. You're not done, mister. Get in the car, and I don't want to hear a sound from you."

As they joined the highway, the sun set and snow started to fly over the windshield. Like warp speed... but even warp speed didn't settle the awful feeling that he could've dropped dead without anyone batting an eyelash.

"Did all the shopping go well, hon?"

"Calvert, don't start with me."

"What, it didn't?"

Pickles watched Seth lean against the car door and pretend to be asleep.

  When they got home, he'd put on his stiff upper lip and his brave face only for his mother to tell him to put his coat and shoes away. No more shouting, no belts, no sitting on his hands... nothing. Dinner was "quick stew"— a concoction of barbecue sauce, ground beef, cut up hot dogs, and canned beans— eaten in silence by everyone but Seth, who ate a cheese sandwich (he was picky.) The evening snaked on like normal save for the exhaustion on his mother's face and the way his father fell asleep in his chair at 7:30, snoring and sucking back his tongue.

At eight, Pickles went upstairs to shower and put himself to bed. Part of Christmas was the promise of new pajamas, sorely needed now that his were all but unraveling. A part of the ringed collar had come undone, leaving a footlong trail of thread stuck to his chest or his shoulder, and the whole neckline periodically flipped up wrong against his skin at night, making him wake up scratching.

Last Christmas, the first night he put his pajamas on, the whole family sat around to watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer on TV. The magical part wasn't how Seth minded his own business or how Dad looked so satisfied as he sat in his chair sipping cognac, but the gentle weight of her arm resting on him as he laid over her knees.

The movie ceased to matter: he was hypnotized by the pillowy pink velour of her housecoat under his cheek and the way her hand stroking his back made his fingers too heavy to lift. Armed with new socks and new underwear, the whole world was reduced to the living room, lit only by the television set. As hard as he fought, he fell asleep amid the lusciousness, and in the delicate first hour of rest he heard the end of Rudolph and the start of Miracle on 34th Street ... The next morning ( the next morning! ) he woke up in bed, still tucked all the way in and more refreshed than he could remember being in all his life.

A year later, his pajamas had worn out some of their magic, but where Seth's had ridden up to his mid-calves, his had only ridden up an inch or two.

He went to take his medicine, but his inhaler was still in his coat downstairs. Quietly, he slipped through the dark house to get it, but like a moth to a flame, he cautiously walked into the beam of light coming from his parents' bedroom. On the way, he passed his snoring father... Inside, his mother was sat up on the corner of her bed with her Bible.

"Mom?"

She tilted her glasses down to see him better in the shadows and sucked her teeth.

"Come in."

He slowly walked in and stood in front of her, his toes curling in the unfamiliar shag carpet. The glisten of her night cream under her eyes and her lack of rouge distracted him... She looked more familiar, albeit less beautiful, this way. Her short, fine hair rested against her scalp, silky-soft and barely short enough to be called a bob. Without being teased, it looked like the hair of a little girl or a cosmopolitan model.

"So do you need something from me?"

His mouth ran ahead of him— thank goodness it knew what to say. "I'm sorry, Mom. I left the bench when-"

"Pickles," she held her hand up and snapped her bible shut. "You didn't do what I asked you to do. That's what you did. I'm not going to fight about it with you. That's what happened, and that’s why I was upset."

Glancing at the lace hem of her nightgown, he gave himself a moment to think, but came up with an empty head except for,

"I'm sorry."

She sighed and laid her bible to the left. "It's alright. Did you come downstairs to say goodnight?" He wasn't small enough for her to grab up, even though she was still taller than him sitting down. Without a directive, her hands sat in her lap.

"I had to get my inhaler from my coat."

"Oh." She knitted her fingers back together while Pickles started to look around the pink room. He couldn't really remember what all was in there. Whenever he infiltrated during the day, the room was dark, and he hadn't tried coming into her room at night since... at least since the spring, when he woke up in a puddle of his own vomit and faced a huffy, impatient mother on top of getting sick again, and again, and again.

She cleared her throat. “I know you’ve been asking your father to help you with your eye drops. Since he’s asleep,” The half-truth spilled out of her so easily, but she couldn’t call him a collapsed drunkard in front of his kid. Pickles should know: if he had any sense at all, like Seth, he’d have figured it out by now. 

“Do you want me to help you with your medicine tonight?”

“No, I can do it.” He could try. He’d tried a couple nights since he’d gotten it, and he could deliver it after a thirty minute struggle and all the concentration he could muster. Her shoulders dropped with disappointment.

"Well..." Molly rested her hand back onto her bible and started to turn away until she looked back and saw Pickles coming at her with his arms outstretched.

"Come here," she grunted, pulling him forward until he sat beside her on the bed. From the side, she wrapped her right arm around him and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Her fingers crept up to the nape of his neck, feeling out how long his hair had grown since she'd had it trimmed.

"Goodnight, Pickles."

"Love you, Mom." He ducked and hugged her around the torso, leaving her patting his upper arm and rubbing his back with a flat palm. It felt like reciting a script: her breath on the top of his head was only a writer’s note.

She said "Love you," right back like a line from a script, and her breath on the top of his head was only a writer’s note. Molly pressed her lips briefly where his softspot used to be and let him slip away.

[martinkennedyguitarist]

Tour Diary; Sixties Gold Tour 2022 Part 10

Day 30, 24.11.22; St. Andrews - Day Off

A day off in St. Andrew started with a lovely brunch in the main house with the family of the people who own the cottage we’re staying in. Ches’ wife Krissy arrived, and their daughter who studies in the town.

Chilled afternoon (more football obvs) then off out for dinner in the centre. It felt like a proper end of tour meal; lots of laughing, lots of wine, great food and so many stories. It really has been a great tour.

We got back to the cottage and had a few more drinks before bed; seems to be a pattern emerging!

Day 31, 25.11.22; Glasgow

Quite the busy day; left St. Andrews after an excellent bit of brunch courtesy of Krissy Hawkes, then travelled up the road to Glasgow.

First stop was Blitzkrieg records in the Barras where we did an acoustic set for Record Store Day and the release of Ches’ remixed single on vinyl. Great little crowd and really fun to do; enjoyed it very much!

From there we went to the concert hall, unloaded the gear and got to have a look at the stage. Todays show had a video screen so we got to watch the video of Chip that was recorded before the tour along with a load of classic Tremeloes footage. Very special to be watching that on stage in an empty hall.

As England were playing, we went to find somewhere they could see it. There was something very surreal about watching England play in Glasgow!

Back to the venue and played to a sold out crowd. They brought all the bands out on stage for the final number which was fantastic; probably the last time we’ll all be together like that.

It really is coming to an end now but still 3 shows to go!

Day 32, 26.11.22; Carlisle

Started the day with a nice Scottish brunch then went in to Glasgow for a bit of shopping; apparently Christmas is on the way? We actually managed quite a good haul between us; good Black Friday deals!

As we were playing in a different country, we decide we best head off. Pretty strong winds crossing the border but made it safely to Carlisle, unloaded the gear then back to the hotel. After checking in, went to the pub next door for something to eat then a couple of hours to relax before heading back for the show.

A packed crowd tonight; really responsive and into the show. Felt brilliant on stage and Silence was one of the best. Luckily Tony from Herman’s Hermits caught it on video.

Back for our final nightcap at the hotel; we all our separate ways after the final show so it was good to talk about what an amazing tour it’s been. Hopefully not for the last time.

Back in my hometown tomorrow for the final 2 shows.

Day 33, 27.11.22; Edinburgh

Not too early a start to the day; checked out of the hotel and stopped off to get some gifts for the crew. Made our way to Edinburgh; always a special thing being back in my hometown.

Had a brief excursion across the road from the venue to get the final gifts and have a bit of a look around the memorabilia shop then back for the interval of the first show. I had quite a lot of family attending so went out to the bar to catch up with them briefly.

Matinee was busy and very responsive; we added in the audio of Chip from the video used in Glasgow and it worked really well; having him introduce the final song was great. Really emotional and exciting penultimate performance.

Inbetween shows we went for dinner with my family which was fun and excellent food; was touched to have so many of them there.

Back for the last performance via the pub; Ches managed to go over on his ankle on the way so he was icing that whilst in the bar!

Tried to see as many of the guys as we could to say goodbye before taking our final backstage shot; in our pants with flowers in our teeth. The funniest was when Barry from the Hermits walked in on us and didn’t know what was going on!

Took the stage for the final time; took a shot of whiskey on stage and had a group hug when we were done. A really emotional and fitting end to what has been an amazing tour.

We were all staying in different places so as each one of us were dropped off it highlighted it really was the end.

I’m so grateful and thankful to have had such an amazing time with the absolute best people; here’s to the next time.

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[beewolfwrites]

An Iron Box - Disquiet

@cheshiya @tenseoyong @szallejhscorner @something-more-original-please @ofsunsetsandpoetries @nek0dzuken @allozaur @serenzippity @hiqhkey

Hello again! I took a little longer on this one because I know it was a favourite for so many of you. It was supposed to be posted earlier today, but here we are anyway! 

The AO3 link is here if you want it - and as always, you can find all the chapters/stories/links on top of my Tumblr.

Thanks so much for all your support. You’re all wonderful, and I know I’ve said this before, but it means a lot :D

------------------------------------------------

Admittedly, there were very few times in my life where I had been injured. As a boy, I never climbed trees with friends - or even had friends for that matter - and therefore never broken a bone. I never played football at school. I had never been stupid enough to fall down stairs, or get into a car accident. And surprisingly, nor had I ever been beaten up by thugs for saying the wrong thing. 

The only time I had ever suffered a true injury was during my first year of medical school. We had been working in pairs as we dissected a cadaver, and my partner, a ridiculous boy who should’ve chosen another career path, was particularly squeamish. I asked him to hand me a scalpel, and without thinking or looking, he passed the wrong end to me. My hand closed around the blade. An intense wave of pain overcame me, and I dropped it with a clatter onto the lab floor. My partner turned white when he realised what he’d done, although I was more bothered by the fact that we were made to clean all the blood off the vinyl. 

That pain paled in comparison to this. 

Sitting on the edge my bed, I unzipped my hoodie and opened up the first-aid kit that I’d swiped from An’s medical room. I gritted my teeth as I inspected the bandages wrapped tightly around my midsection. Blood was spotted across the white, and the dressing underneath was tinged with yellow stains. They needed changing as soon as possible. If the wound became infected, there wasn’t much I could do in this world. 

I began rooting through the first-aid kit, having pulled out a section of gauze when footsteps thudded from down the hall, followed by shouts. As always, I ignored it. It was probably someone running away from the militants. 

And then my door burst open. 

I recognised that familiar figure as she slammed it shut behind her, leaning and panting against the wood. Then her gaze focused, dipping from my face to my bandages as she realised where she was. 

Not you. Not now. 

‘Get out.’

She flinched, but didn’t leave. ‘Are you okay?’ 

Clearly not. 

‘I didn’t say you could come in here. Get out.’ 

Her eyes glossed over, and she shook her head. My irritation was growing with every second that passed, and I would’ve physically kicked her out the door if not for the teasing call that sounded from the halls. 

‘Come on out Shorty, and maybe we can finish what we started. Wouldn’t that be fun?’ 

Niragi. Why did that idiot have to cause me so much trouble? And that nickname - Shorty - was barely accurate. (Name) wasn’t even that short - the shorter side of average height, perhaps. But more pressingly, Niragi would knock on my door soon enough, and if he found her… 

‘Get under the bed and don’t make a sound.’ When she didn’t move, I added, ‘Unless you’d rather be caught by him?’

The message was received, as she reluctantly moved from the door and sank to the floor. I suddenly noticed she was carrying that old copy of Wuthering Heights I’d left in her room. I quite enjoyed the thought that she might have been translating it before she ran into trouble, but the enjoyment was cut short by the awkward sight of her clambering and kicking her way under the bed with one hand. Her head narrowly missed the bed frame, but she managed to slide further beneath the bed, totally out of sight. 

Perfect timing too, as a fist battered on the door. Pulling on my hoodie, I gave the bed a last once-over. 

Unless you stay silent, even I can’t help you. 

Outside, Niragi was leaning against the frame, a sneer pulling at his lips. It was hard not to smile at dark purple bruise ringing his eye, and those angry red scabs running along his cheek. She had really done a number on him. 

I cut him off before he could speak. ‘Don’t waste your time, she’s not in here.’ 

‘Oh? If you know why I’m here, then she must be in here.’

‘Has it occurred to you that the entire Beach can hear you shouting and causing a fuss?’ 

He adjusted his rifle with a click, pointing the barrel in my face. I glanced down at it and smiled. He didn’t like that. 

‘Oi, don’t even think about pissing me off,’ he hissed. ‘I know she’s in here. She’s your little pal, and she disappeared right around your room.’

In spite of how he acted, Niragi actually wasn’t stupid. If anything, his intelligence was second to mine, and convincing him wouldn’t be easy. Sighing, I stood back from the door. ‘You can come in and see for yourself if you want. But there’s no point.’ 

He pushed his way in and breezed around the room for a good minute or so, checking the bathroom, behind the shower curtain, my closet, under the curtains, every corner and nook. And yet he forgot the most obvious place. 

His searching came to nothing, although he didn’t seem too bothered. And only when he smiled confidently did I become suspicious. ‘I guess it doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘I’ll see your friend again soon enough, and next time she won’t get far.’ 

He left, and only then did I start to think over his words. 

He’s planned something. 

He would corner her when she’s alone, and the best time for that? During a game. It would be easy for Niragi to slip into the meeting room and rearrange the groups, just like I did. After all, her visa expired tonight. 

When did I start keeping tabs? 

Although Niragi was long gone, (Name) had yet to emerge. I sat on the edge of the bed, waiting. ‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t stay there all day.’

There was a series of scuffles as she slid out by my feet, still clutching the book in one hand.

‘You can’t hide from him forever.’ 

She sat beside me on the bed, and I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to inch closer to her or move away. She muttered a small, ‘I know,’ while flicking between the pages of her book. 

‘You know you can leave.’

‘I know that too.’ Her eyes dropped to my injured side. ’Why don’t I help you? You know, with…’ 

No. It was bad enough she knew about it. Having her pity on top of that was even worse. ‘I don’t need your help.’ 

Her fingers tightened around the book, but she was annoyingly persistent. ‘Fine then, you can guide me. It can be like a lesson, since I’m more likely to get injured in a game than you. If I know the basics, I won’t need your help again like I did in the pharmacy that time.’ 

Ah, I get it. 

She’d been rescued by me a number of times. And now, the thought that she owed me - the person she disliked - her life, was eating her alive.

‘In other words, you feel guilty,’ I said. ‘And now you’re trying to convince me to let you repay me in some way.’ 

‘Maybe... Is it working?’

Not in the slightest. 

She didn’t truly want to be here. She had no genuine interest in helping me, I knew that. And yet, I didn’t quite want her to leave yet. 

‘I suppose if Niragi shoots you, you could patch it up rather than coming to me.’ I gestured towards a small decorative bowl on the bedside table, and the kettle I always kept in the corner. ’You need to fill that up with water. Boil a kettle to sterilise it first.’

She tossed the book to the side and leapt off the bed, grinning. ‘You won’t regret this, I promise!’ 

I don’t want your empty promises. 

Darting around the room, she took the kettle and filled it using the bathroom tap. Then leaving it to boil, she disappeared back into the bathroom again. For a moment, all I could hear was the sound of rushing water, before she called out through the door, ‘What can I use to dry my hands? Your towels are too germy.’ 

Germy? Is she suggesting that I don’t do my laundry?

‘My towels are always clean.’ I reached behind me for a box of latex gloves, also stolen from the medical room. ‘And there are gloves here, so it doesn’t make any difference.’

I got a head-start unwrapping the stained bandages and dressing. It wouldn’t do to have her messing with it and causing even more damage. When she reentered, I held out the box of gloves. She eyed the wound on my side but didn’t say anything, instead busying herself by pouring the boiled water into the bowl to sterilise it. 

‘We’re using water to clean it?’ she asked. ‘In the pharmacy you used antiseptic first.’ 

‘Ah…’ Back then, in that icy cold pharmacy, I hadn’t cared about her discomfort. But rather, I’d intentionally tried to provoke her, just to see how much she could stomach. ‘That’s because I didn’t have water or saline,’ I said, watching her vanish into the bathroom to pour the water away. ‘And also because I was curious about something.’

‘And what was that?’ 

She returned once again with cool water this time. The bowl balanced on her knees, she came to sit close beside me on the bed. Closer than I had expected. I could feel her every breath ghosting my skin. At one time, I would’ve immediately stood up and walked away, but now, I was trapped. 

‘I wanted to see whether you would cry.’ 

For the briefest second, she looked like she could cry right then and there. ‘And did I pass your little test?’ 

‘Well… you didn’t cry,’ I said. ‘Although you bit your hand instead, which was just as stupid.’ 

There was a harsh snap of latex on skin as she jammed on a pair of gloves. ‘You know, calling me stupid is the same as calling me an idiot. And you were the one who said I was intelligent enough to be useful when you brought me to the Beach.’ 

Taking a sterile cloth from the first-aid kit, she stripped away its packaging and dampened it in the water. Every movement was hesitant and instinctive, and I felt a barely-there pressure as she dabbed the cloth on the wound. The water was freezing, and it was impossible not to tense whenever a thin latex fingertip brushed my skin. The strange, intimate silence was uncomfortable, even for me. 

‘That’s true,’ I said. ‘And yet you don’t know how to treat a basic injury.’ 

She smirked. ‘I know how to treat an injury. But I don’t know how to do it properly, and it’s not like we have much modern medicine here to help us.’ Her hand stilled as she contemplated something. ’It’s also because I’m not especially smart.’ 

Is she fishing for compliments? Typical.

‘My brother is a psychologist,’ she explained. ‘He once said to me that being smart doesn’t make you intelligent.’

‘That was smart of him,’ I said. 

She hummed, the corner of her mouth lifting into a bitter smile. ‘He is smart. My dad never made him feel that way though. He always said my brother wasn’t cut out for psychology. He went and proved him wrong.’ 

It was difficult to concentrate on her words. I was acutely aware that I was in a state of undress, and she was close enough that I could see the lamplight shining on her hair. Every time she dabbed at the dried blood, her skin almost met mine, but just grazed out of reach. Perhaps this was a bad idea after all. 

‘But my brother was right about what he said,’ she continued. ‘A smart person might know how to treat a wound because they’ve studied it. They’ll study loads of subjects and gain a lot of practical skills. They ace all the exams because they remember all the answers.’

Truth be told, I wasn’t sure why she was still talking. I didn’t really care about how she or her brother defined intelligence, but she seemed happy discussing her brother, and it was easier to let her keep going than interrupt. 

‘But being intelligent means questioning the answers,’ she insisted, ‘looking at things differently… and when you don’t know something, you’ll find a solution that’s completely outside of the box.’ 

She briefly paused, checking to make sure I was listening. I was half-listening. 

‘Take the Borderlands for example. A smart person would say that it can’t be God who’s behind all of this craziness, because God doesn’t exist. We’ve seen outer space, and it’s not rational to think that there’s a God out there sitting on the clouds. But an intelligent person would know that even if we can’t prove God exists, we also can’t prove that God doesn’t exist. So, they’ll consider every possibility at once.’

I couldn’t argue with her explanation. She had obviously given the topic some thought, and even I could see that while she lacked common sense at times, she was certainly more than capable of seeing the bigger picture to a problem once she overcame her own fears. But there was one other thing I wanted to know. 

‘And what about me? Would you pin me as smart or intelligent?’

Her gloved hand froze for a second. She avoided my eyes, and took her time rinsing the reddened cloth. ‘Probably a crazy mixture of both. Sometimes, I wish I knew what’s going on in your head. Only, I can’t read you at all. It scares me.’ 

‘Everything scares you.’

‘Okay, okay. Let’s not go there.’

When the cold cloth touched my skin once more, I felt the slight brush of her fingers, and couldn’t refrain from flinching. ‘That’s enough. The water’s freezing.’ 

‘An eye for an eye. Consider it repayment for trying to make me cry.’ She dropped the cloth back into the pink water. 

And then she smiled. 

It was hard not to stare at a smile like that, and even I was caught out. Unlike her usual distrust, this was genuine. This was real. And for the first time, it was directed at—

‘I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me.’

Pathetic. I was just as pathetic as those drunken players outside. Only, I wasn’t trapped in a haze of alcohol, I was trapped right here, in front of a woman who would never truly look at me like that. She would never sing. 

All I could do was smile back, with a ‘touché’. 

I talked her through the correct amount of antibiotic ointment, and of course, she used a little too much. I tried to push away the uncomfortable sensation of her gloved fingers against my side, the warmth of her so extraordinarily close, yet cut off. It was for the best that she did not return these emotions. After all, I had no intention of sinking to her level with her fairy-tale romances and gemstones. 

Yes. It was for the best. 

‘You never told me why you wanted to make me cry,’ she said suddenly, looking around at the first-aid supplies.

I gestured to a dressing. 'I wanted to gauge whether you would survive in a world like this.’

Peeling off the packaging, she positioned the dressing over my skin. ‘I thought that much. I’ve survived so far. Isn’t that enough?’

Silly girl. 

She was so engrossed by pressing the sticky sides down properly, she didn’t notice when I raised two fingers and flicked her on the forehead. Her eyes, wide and confused, silently demanded an explanation as she rubbed her head with the back of her wrist. 

‘Of course not,’ I said. ‘It’s only enough when you get to return to the real world. And you’re still too naïve. No wonder Niragi’s made you into such an easy target.’ 

She pulled a face. ‘What do you think he meant before?’ 

I could’ve told her what Niragi had planned, but there was no point in scaring her now. So long as she kept her wits about her, she would be fine. And besides, Niragi couldn’t just go sacrificing Beach members left, right and centre for nothing. If he did, there would be nobody left. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t injure, rape or leave her for dead - it certainly wouldn’t be unusual for someone like him. 

‘I have a theory, but it’s almost game time,’ I told her. ‘Your visa expires tonight.’ 

I realised my slip-up a little too late, but aside from a raised brow, she didn’t question how I knew about her visa. Regardless, I had an excuse prepared; Kuina’s visa was the same. She quietly thanked me for letting her hide under my bed, and tucking her book under one arm, finally left. 

Later that evening as I stood by (name’s) side in the hotel lobby, it came as no surprise to see Niragi staring pointedly at us from across the crowded room. 

‘そのテーザーをあるか?’ I asked her. Do you have that taser? 

She tensed immediately as she clocked onto our observer, and whispered, ‘I have it.’ 

‘Good. Once you get to the game venue, make sure you stay away from him. Do what you have to if you want to survive.’

What am I doing, giving out advice like this? 

It was uncharacteristic, to the point that even she noticed. ‘How come you’re helping me?’ 

I ignored the question, partially because I didn’t want her to know why and partially because I only vaguely knew myself. ‘You should go. The games will start soon.’ 

And then I left her there. She was clearly terrified, but as for whether or not I stayed while she found her assigned car, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Once the car left the hotel and she disappeared into the games with him, the situation was beyond my control. It was entirely out of my grasp. And as I climbed the stairs back to my room, a strange disquiet rooted itself deep within me, calling out stronger and stronger with every step I took. 

'The iron box begins to rise up, nice and slow, toward the surface of the sea.’

For the first time, this disquiet drowned out the silence that had become so familiar. 

[hockeydogwoof]

Pittsburgh Steelers colored shiny PVC football gear on a sunny afternoon.

[pinkhairedlily]

Chapter 11 - Student Council President Sakura / Graduation Chapter

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Youtube playlist for your reading accompaniment

They held a run-through of the graduation ceremony on the last day of class and technically the last day of the trio’s high school life. Unlike their first general assembly, Uchiha Sasuke was to deliver the graduation speech but not without great sulking from Haruno Sakura who landed a close second despite ranking first in their final exams.

And obviously, not without Sasuke trying to give up his speech privileges by campaigning instead for Sakura.

In the end, all three of them were granted speech slots – one for Sasuke as valedictorian, Sakura as student representative, and Naruto as the school’s first national MVP. It was this debacle that led the three of them to brainstorm in an empty AVR after the dry run.

“Done!” Sakura yelled like the diligent student she was. “Let me look at yours!”

Sasuke presented her a blank paper while saying, “It’s all prepared in my head”, and Naruto showed her his baseball doodles.

“Oh God, you’re all so hopeless.”

Then the electricity suddenly got cut off in the AVR. Sakura expected the boys to screech in surprise and cling to each other, but she only heard silence in the dark. She jumped in her seat when the doors opened with a loud bang, a confetti splash, and the lights coming back to life.

Sasuke and Naruto were still in front of her, holding two bouquets of irises and yellow roses. Behind them were the old and new student council members with other students holding a large banner saying Thank you, Student Council President Sakura!

She started to leave her seat to come to them, but they gestured for her to stay on her seat. In front of the room, the large monitor beeped and showed a compilation of videos.

Sukehiro Aoi, an alumni and currently an intern in an animation studio. “Hello, Ms. Pres. You once asked the body to submit a publication material for an event of the student council, and I sent mine through a dummy email with no expectations of winning. I wasn’t comfortable with the public seeing my art. I was afraid of the unsolicited remarks so sending it anonymously gave me some relief. You chose it however, and you knew how big a credit was to an artist. I was really scared when you were able to hunt me down just by my watermark, but my name in the info blast caught the attention of a school board member and referred me to this animation studio. It was the littlest thing, but you handed me my dream.”

Watanabe Kota was a year below them. He has a small frame, round thick glasses, and battled with face acne. “Ms. Pres! People never had much confidence in my physical appearance, so I don’t know what you saw in me when you asked me to take over the school radio. But here we are – we’re airing daily and we even produce documentaries and radio programs. Thank you for seeing what I didn’t.”

Ito Amanaya, a typical jock in the football team, muscular and came across as intimidating, but he had the gentlest cadence. “I was bullied by the same group that bullied your dynamic duo. When you ran them off, you also saved my life. Thank you, Haruno.”

Kimura Shinze, a classmate in third year, beautiful, popular, and the captain of the cheering squad. “Hope you’re having a great day, Ms. Pres. Remember that time when the class was guessing who were our crushes and I blurted out that it was a girl, you told me thank you for telling us. That was…a big deal to me. Thank you for that gesture.”

Himurata Aoi, president of the koto club. “Sakura, I know you had many people come up and confessed to you so when I did try, I was glad that you didn’t give me a bullshit reason like you’re not into girls. You turned me down because you have someone you already love. I am thankful for your honesty.”

The biology teacher, Takahashi Kande. “Student council, thank you for your mental health program. As a single father to twins, I don’t have the luxury of time to sit in a couch and sort out my issues. To be able to do that in my workplace during breaks is a heaven-sent gift. You saved me and my family. Thank you.”

Many more messages came on, from a classmate she lent spare change to, from a staff she helped clean, from countless students who she wasn’t aware she gave kindness to.

“Why….” She asked breathlessly.

“You’ve been beating yourself lately. We thought you needed some reminding,” Sasuke muttered, under his breath, the bouquet still in his hands. “You left some pretty big footprints, Ms. Pres.

“You might not have noticed,” Naruto jested. “But this is always innate and natural to you, isn’t it?”

“Why did you bother so much?” She was reduced to tears.

“It was Naruto’s idea.”

“Huh? You did all the compiling though!”

“Shut up, it was me,” yelled the current president.

“Thank you, everyone.”

--------------------------------

It was a weekend, but Sasuke requested Sakura and Naruto to meet him at the school gates. He only gave the time and place, and he knew well enough that they would be there – no questions asked.

They stood there, minutes earlier than planned, a first but nothing more unusual than homebody Sasuke asking them to go out on a weekend. Sakura wore an oversized rust shirt over a pair of muted cotton blue trousers tied with a brown leather belt and tan fisherman sandals, her long hair kept in one single braid at the back. Naruto probably expected a fancy lunch with his outfit – black silky long sleeves over gray pants and black loafers.

Sasuke, high on impulsive decisions, wore bright colors, a complete departure from his usual neutrals; mustard vest over a deep violet polo, baggy pants, off white converse, and a white fanny pack. “Well, we’re mostly dressed for comfort, except for that idiot beside you.”

“What do you mean dressed for comfort? I borrowed these loafers from my vice-captain and my feet aren’t used to them,” Naruto whined. “Besides, aren’t you taking us out to a five-star meal, Mr. Valedictorian?”

“Wow, what a way to show off.” Sakura pursed her lips in annoyance. “Don’t worry Naruto, I got your next café order.”

“Ah no. It was just something we heard from the grape vine.” Naruto scratched his head and carefully glanced at Sasuke. “Grumpy got his trust fund today.”

In bated breaths, they waited for him to respond with a scowl or a retort, but he just nodded. “Come on, we’ll miss the train.”

They traveled for three stations and disembarked on the fourth, Sasuke sandwiched in between the two, his shoulders pillows again to their heads and yet such burdens were light as cotton. The surfacing emotions since last week were taking hold of him, but he needed to pull through somehow because breaking down while commuting was one thing he did not really see doing.

“Word just got in. The house was turned over this morning,” Itachi told him over the phone.

“Impeccable timing when I’m also moving abroad next week.” Sasuke pulled out his Bleachers vinyl and anticipated another lonesome lull for the night.

“Do you miss the cream puffs?”

“Nothing comes close.”

“Hmm. I’ll pay for the rental fee of your car.”

In Itachi’s defense, while he was an afficionado of escapism, he also knew how to read between the lines. “Watch me get a Mercedes-Benz.”

“I have a good driving playlist.” This only meant math rock, and Sasuke wanted something to scream his lungs too.

“Don’t need one.”

“Treat your friends to dinner, okay? Gotta go.”

“We’re walking?!” Naruto almost limped out of the train. Sasuke took one look at his heels and saw that they were bruised red. He took off his converse and socks and gave them to him.

Sakura whipped out a small first-aid kit and covered the rash on Naruto’s heels. “Hey don’t look at me like that. Brought it just in case we’re going on a day survival tour. A camping would be nice too.”

“Did you scrub your feet, idiot?”

“You think so low of me grumpy. Of course – last week!”

With Naruto now comfortable, the three resumed walking on the unfamiliar residential area. Sasuke gestured for them to enter a bamboo forest on the far side of the main road. Hidden in the shadows of the clumped stalks were a small opening, the growth hampered and ground rid of grasses and weeds; many people have also chosen this shortcut, walked through the forest, did a little nature bathing, and emerged behind the bakery, still there, still standing, still operating.

Sasuke tapped on the large glass window cum counter on the front and bought three sets of cream puffs.

“Oh, it’s you,” the old baker greeted. “You brought your friends over? You always buy one set.”

Sasuke offered her a smile, briefly glancing to his periphery where Sakura was fussing with Naruto’s feet, and nodded as he accepted the paper bag. “It’s on the house, kid.”

“You brought us to stalk someone’s house?” Sakura dug in one paper bag, bit the puff in one bite, and with full mouth, she sighed. “This is heaven.”

“It’s our old family house, before the accident that is.” Sasuke also took out one puff and munched on it, ruminating on the sight before him, a two-story house with an imposing façade, his mom’s climbing hydrangea gone and cut by the new owners, beds of roses and daisies already withered, but the wisteria tree on the vacant lot beside continued to grow and shade what he supposed were the children’s rooms. It was in his third bite that he saw the tomato fruits he planted, alive and full with harvest. “Do you think my parents know?”

Naruto slid an arm across his shoulder and grinned sheepishly. “Then they would be happy ghosts or maybe they would voluntarily move away to give the new owners the opportunity to make it a happy a home like yours.

“What part are you gonna miss?” Sakura asked, halfway through her set of puffs.

“The sight of the wisteria before I sleep and after I wake up, and the sunlight in my parents’ room. My dad liked to make these suncatchers for my mom. The play of light was a good morning greeting, she said.”

“What’s your funniest memory?” Naruto sat on the grass, uncaring for the stains that would taint his good pair of pants.

“It was probably Christmas when I was seven, and Itachi had this big idea to bake a cake, but he swapped the sugar for the salt and we were wondering why it wouldn’t make a custard. Our parents still ate it, saying it was a very salty version of dark chocolate cake.”

“It was a good home,” Sakura patted the space between her and Naruto and Sasuke sat down cross-legged too, dipping his hand on the paper bag with the last cream puff.

“It was a good home,” Sasuke agreed as he bit into the last vestige of his family memory. He was suckling the powdered sugar off his fingers when he realized he was already crying, and the two were downright sobbing on his either side.

Such an embarrassing sight to see; he wondered what would the new owners feel if they looked out their windows this instant and saw three teenagers breaking down on the road across. It was honestly stupid and laughable to a point, considering how funny it was for grief to become lighter when someone else cried with him.

Naruto was sniffling so much that he had to offer his handkerchief to him. “I forgot to tell you guys. Hinata confessed to me during the cultural festival.”

“Oh my god. What did you say?” Sakura took a tissue out of her bag and dabbed her eyes. She flashed an apologetic look to Sasuke who already offered his hanky to Naruto’s fluids.

“Ah, what else? I had to reject her.” Naruto sneezed on Sasuke’s handkerchief again. “I told her I was in love with someone else.” He slyly glanced at his raven-haired friend and pursed his lips which Sakura quickly caught.

“Who is it?”

“Sasuke also likes someone.”

“Shut your mouth, blondie. Point is already moot. Besides, we’ve already been rejected.”

“Who are these people and why don’t I know them?” Sakura genuinely looked offended. “I could have vetted them!”

“Exactly why it was fortunate you didn’t meet them,” Sasuke said as an excuse though he pegged Sakura for not being that naïve. She, thankfully, let it go and gathered their trash. She dropped the bomb as she was brushing the grass blades from her trousers. “My parents are divorcing. Such a travesty not to have them show up on graduation day, and I thought I did a great job.”

The two, ever so sure, held onto her hands in case she was trembling again.

“Let’s get that five-star dinner,” Sasuke suggested, “and we need to rent a Mercedes-Benz.”

--------------------------------

Graduation Day

“Let’s welcome to the stage, class valedictorian, Uchiha Sasuke.” Kakashi was the officiating faculty today so she expected difficulty going through the event, but for some reason, he slipped into her mental back burner, no longer taking up room in her active consciousness. That was a good step, she smiled to herself. Her smile became wider as Sasuke got up the stage.

His fans club’s cheers were heard outside the auditorium, and the graduating class chuckled at the quick interruption. He cleared his throat and started his piece.

“Please get it on record that I was coerced to do this speech. Then again, I also had a hand on the turn of events that led me here today, in front of you. And it’s a little too on the nose, but I came to high school with a clear set of goals – have high grades and lead an uninteresting life. I accomplished the first one rather easily, and it’s a good metric for the future that’s upon us right now. Good grades land us good colleges. Good colleges land us good jobs. Good jobs land us good life.

But it’s not the sole benchmark as I have learned lately. You see, my second goal really missed the mark. Good life can also mean good friends, fun experiences, a caring environment, a complete family. If you ticked off each one, then that’s very notable. You have the four-leaf clover, and it’s a rare blessing. I only ticked off three, but that goes without any regret. If you only have one silver lining in your high school memory, then that makes us all the more human. And if there’s none, there is still is still a whole stretch of possibilities we can discover to find one. Thank you for your kind attention.”

Sakura was pretty sure she heard several sniffles across the student body. “The bastard delivered a good speech,” she muttered to herself.

“We would like to welcome our first national MVP, Uzumaki Naruto.”

Outside, the school band played the cheering anthem for his last national games. The cheerleaders also did a routine in tribute to him. That made him well up when he got to the podium.

“Wait oh my god, I’m tearing up so much.”

Sasuke grunted loudly and went back the stage to hand him a handkerchief which Naruto quickly used to wipe his snot.

“Thanks Sasuke. How can Kakashi-sensei let me follow after that rousing speech, and before Sakura too. It’s kinda evil.”

Laughter broke out.

“Well, this one’s a bare minimum. I didn’t have any goals or expectations, unlike genius grumpy over there. I just wanted to live my life like an ordinary boy. Someone said that how you spend your day is how you live your life so I did just that – ate ramen, slept in class because I am a growing kid, and played each arcade game until I won them. I also believe in serendipitous – thanks Sakura for this word, for the spelling and meaning – serendipitous coincidences. I just pitched and batted for former captain Haru one afternoon and now we landed in the national finals. I had loneliness for a friend, but now I’ve got all of you. And you know what else, the magic of working together. We wouldn’t have stepped foot in the nationals if it weren’t for your collective help. When we work towards a common goal, that also gives us common happiness, right? It’s infectious, a bouncing energy that gets thrown around and still makes it one piece. So wherever you will be after this, believe it!”

When Kakashi called her name next, she thought she was deaf, the noise around her collapsed in muted decibels. It took a minute before her fellow classmates shook her and motioned for her to quickly come up the stairs. Her silver-haired teacher looked so concerned in the shadows, but for what it was worth, she was civil and calm enough (at least in the matters concerning him) to nod at him in quiet exchange of assurance.

It was because she saw both of her parents at the side with a bouquet of roses. She struggled with the paper she brought with her although she had it memorized in her head; she even went through it flawlessly for three times last night. Tears blurred the words and the mere shock of the sight of their togetherness disabled her mental function to string coherent thoughts. She also started hyperventilating, her breaths coming faster than what her lungs could pump.

Then she felt Kakashi’s hand on her shoulder, a steady presence, and it reeled her back to reality. He tapped the mic and the feedback echoed. “Ah, Ms. Haruno had some technical issues. Again, let’s welcome former student council president, Sakura.”

Sasuke and Naruto in the front were almost standing, but she flashed them a smile as if to say she was okay now. “Hello, good day to our honorable guests and graduates. I think it’s safe to say that Sasuke and Naruto provided really good words of advice. So I have nothing more to offer, but to share my gratitude. Everyone was saying the student council did a good job in its programs, but it was actually the lot of you who made this possible – from your activity suggestions to participation and feedback. After all, you were the makers of your memories.

Earlier last week, my councilmates and friends reminded me how small actions go a long way – a smile, a wave across the hallway, a short exchange of good morning and see you soon, and I thought, aren’t we all just an accumulation of these small, little things? As such, it was what you think your insignificant moments were that pushed us to deliver you the best. It was the passing comment, the top-of-your-head tips, the interlude stories we hear during lunch breaks that allowed us to give you grand gestures and memories we hoped were worth keeping. And if we could start to use that perspective as well in our lives then maybe the uncertainties of a future wouldn’t be so heavy on us. We will face tomorrow with a lightness in being.

In behalf of the student council, thank you for allowing us to serve you.”

She bowed at a level where her torso was almost aligned at her hips, and she was confused with the lack of reaction. Sakura sighed, mulling over the deficiencies in her speech, but she straightened her back to a sight of a standing ovation and a thundering applause.

Then, she let her tears fall.

--------------------------------

“Why would you let Kakashi-sensei take the pic?” Sakura hissed at them.

“Just this one time, Sakura!” Naruto grinned.

“Sakura, you’re out of the frame,” Kakashi remarked. “Okay good. Say cheese.”

In spite of her recent heartbreak with him, she permitted herself to bask in fleeting cordiality. “Cheese.”

“Grumpyyyyyy.”

“Idiot blondie.”

Kakashi took three more shots and handed the camera to the trio. He almost turned away when Sakura caught his sleeve.

“Just one more,” she said. “With you.”

Sakura shifted to the front, almost kneeling with the camera angled for a selfie, her two friends beside her looking equally annoyed as the other, and Kakashi behind them, his hands on either head, smiling with his deceptively charming beauty mark.

It was the last picture of their high school life.

--------------------------------

The three were rushing through the airport crowd fifteen minutes before the immigration closes gates.

“Here!” Sakura slid a folder on the large pocket on Sasuke’s bag. “It includes your passport, your flight details, your valid IDs, your itinerary, and letters from us! Don’t forget our Friday video calls!”

“I can’t see. These tears are bullies,” Naruto said through tears. He was continuously wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“And If I don’t get on my flight because you made us eat ramen for one last time and the orders took too long, I’m gonna have you cursed by a witch and a shaman!” Sasuke growled. The guards were starting to close the gates when a sobbing Naruto sprinted and basically tackled the guards on the floor.

“Sasuke come on, hurry up!”

“Drink your vitamins! And if you miss cream puffs, I’ll teach you how to make them.” Sakura was trying hard to keep pace with Sasuke’s brisk walking, but she ended up breathless anyway.

The three of them finally reached the immigration entrance, and Naruto was profusely apologizing to the guards for the interruption. Sasuke showed his documents, wheezing as they looked at it. They gave him a thumbs up and opened the gates.

The two were already slumped at the floor, waving without words, and exhausted from the clock race. Sasuke was almost through when he remembered something he forgot. He muttered a quick sorry, ran through the opening, and hugged his two friends.

“I’ll miss you.”

[bisexualsmackingnoises]

Hi there!! (^~^)/ I really like your ideas and your writing is really great! Do you have any thoughts about the whole team?? Like what do they do when they're not working??

Hello sweet anon! So sorry for the long wait, I’ve been mentally rotting these days.;;; I finally, FINALLY got to this ask! I adore exploring the rich inner lives that these lads must inevitably lead when they’re not putting on full mafioso airs.

Special thanks goes to @amarettocoffee ​for her input and for listening to me talk about this idea. I banged this whole thing out in the span of about 20 minutes and she was like yeah this looks legit. Shoutout to @vanwizard for their fucking phenomenal post about Giorno’s greenhouse, which I reference. Also, creds to @bucciaratis-titty-window, whose character study posts are referenced twice.

HCs About Team Buccellati When They’re Not Working

Content Warnings: very brief mention of suicidal ideation (what? I’m bringing up Abbacchio alone with his own thoughts, this was obviously gonna happen).

It goes without saying that Mista, Narancia and Fugo hang out even without team obligation—they didn't just come up with the torture dance out of nowhere. I think they have a group dynamic that could be described as, "two extroverts picked up an introvert and said 'yup, we're keeping you'". Fugo claims he's a reluctant party in their antics, but he enjoys company that puts no expectations on him. He's always been held to ultra high standards, but these boys just want another friend that they can fuck around with.

Narancia actually spends a good deal of his downtime studying (when he isn't doing some dumb shit with Mista and Fugo). He's a genuinely persistent student, trying his absolute hardest to get good at whatever his learning level's curriculum entails. Also dancing and listening to music (we know he's found a work-life symbiosis when it comes to those, lol). He just wants to be a normal kid outside of all of this.

Fugo reads in his off time. Riveting, I know. But really, it makes his brain shut up, so he takes to the most immensely boring content and eventually tires himself out. Also, cookbooks. He never really puts the knowledge in those books to use, but he likes absorbing it. If he bothered, he'd probably like to get into sports. I can see him liking tennis or soccer football.

Mista listens to music, dances, works out and often skateboards when he has the time. He's a very active and hardy person, if you can't tell. That thriving energy flows into everything around him as well, considering he keeps a number of equally thriving houseplants (including a few cooking herbs). He's also a sucker for reality TV and soap operas when just chillin' out. He's certainly forced Fugo and Narancia to watch a season finale or two with him. (This has made for a number of highly specific inside jokes between the three, including the "PANTS!" incident. Fugo has forbidden Narancia and Mista from telling that tale, but they're able to set him off with that one five letter word.)

Bruno overworks himself—he spends most of his off-duty time building a good rapport with civilians in the area, speaking to informants, and doing his own personal work and planning. He doesn't view his place in Passione as a duty to fulfill and retreat from, but rather as a permanent obligation that infects even the smallest corners of his personal life. In a lot of ways, it is his personal life. If he stops and decompresses, though, he usually finds himself either reading (any material will do, from trashy tabloids to hardcover classics) or, in the event of some serious downtime, painting.

Abbacchio has... well, the exact sort of downtime you'd expect. Music, wine, vacant thought and poetry he swears he'll never show to anyone (it’s actually quite good—he’s had years to ruminate, and misery apparently likes company in couplets—but he’ll only ever chalk it up to depressive trash). Also practices makeup application—the one thing he really lives life to the fullest with is using up cosmetics. If he's gonna die sometime soon, either on a mission or by his own hand, then he may as well use that shit for all the lire it's worth. Oh, also, he still does drag sometimes (took up the practice in that mysterious span of time after leaving the force), but has largely fallen out of the practice since joining Passione. You can't really schedule gigs when you're beholden to something as unpredictable as Passione's work times.

Despite being quite the busy lad, especially after the events of Vento Aureo, Giorno has a number of pastimes. Scamming & pickpocketing are just the tip of the iceberg in his case, considering those hobbies got shelved when he climbed his way into the rank of Passione don. Gardening, life drawing—particularly of his own creations, but he also enjoys field drawing and hiring live models for studies of anatomy and form—listening to music (he's probably a vinyl junkie, let's be real) and creating weird temporary animal amalgams with items around him (yes, this is inspired by the kinder egg bird) are some passions of his outside of work. Exerting his stand’s life-giving powers never ceases to be amusing. Come on, if you were basically god at fifteen years old, you’d wanna use that shit all the time too.

He also likes to do normal kid things too, and takes joy in—gasp—doing homework. In the idyllic event that he had more time to befriend Narancia, the two would definitely form a study group with a (supposedly) reluctant Fugo.

[mermaidcashton]

all the pretty girls

author: claire (@mermaidcashton) ship/AU: calum hood/luke hemmings, genderswap!AU prompt: “Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met.”  wordcount: 1519 warnings: swearing, hint of sexual content  dedication: this one is for gay!sos group chat, and all the other wlw 5sos fans 💘 a/n: • so, i wanted wlw!5sos and established relationship, self-indulgent, domestic cuteness and i...think i have achieved that? lol • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos​ ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (in which we all chose from a list of AU’s and had the above prompt quote to include - i will share the masterlist for you to see everyone elses when it’s finished!) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘honey’ by kehlani 

all the pretty girls ***

all the pretty girls in the world but i'm in this space with you 

***

“Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met.” “Oh!” Luke gasped, burying her head further into Calum’s shoulder. Calum was bemused. “Haven’t you seen this movie like ten times?” “Fuck,I think I’ve seen this movie ten times.” Calum would be seriously questioning her life choices if she hadn’t taken into account that every time she’d ever watched it, she’d had the hottest woman she’d ever met pressed against her. That seriously balanced the scales of shitty cinema, in Calum’s opinion. 

“It’s just so cute.” Luke sniffed. Calum pretended not to notice her wiping her nose on Calum’s sleeve; she looked cute enough in it to get away with almost anything.

Right now Luke was wearing avocado print pyjama shorts and Calum’s Santa Cruz sweatshirt (despite owning at least 300 separate items of clothing, in Calum’s most conservative estimations), with her blonde hair in a messy bun and the beginnings of a snotty nose. Her eyelashes were glossy with the tears she’d brushed away, and Calum thought she’d still be willing to watch every straight-to-video 00’s rom com ever made as long as it was what Luke wanted. 

“Does this seriously not make you emotional? He gave up Paris for her! Paris, Calum!” Luke whined, craning her neck to look up at Calum from her position under her arm, her lithe body laid across the sofa.  

Calum smirked. “Come on, babe; you know ‘Wall-E’ is the only movie that makes me feel anything.”

Luke rolled her eyes, but giggled all the same before pressing on insistently.  “It’s so romantic, though. Isn’t this the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard?” “No?” Calum scoffed, settling back against the mountain of cushions that seemed to grow every time they went to Ikea. Then it struck her. “Hang on, are you saying that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard?!” 

“Yeah…” Luke let out another dreamy sigh before stilling almost imperceptibly. Oh, shit.

“What?!” Calum said, already looking more indignant than the time Luke had accidentally cheered for Arsenal insead of Liverpool (“Your Liverpool shirt is red, Calum! What the hell is an away kit?! I hate football!”). “Obviously I wasn’t includi-” Luke tried to recover, but Calum was too far gone. “I write the sickest anniversary cards! My last Valentine’s Day card to you? Fuckin’ poetry, Luke! I mean, not literally because that’s lame as fuck, but I am romantic as shit!”

Calum knew that generally speaking, people would consider Luke to be the more romantic in the relationship. Everyone who lived within 5 miles of their apartment had probably heard Luke tell Calum she loved her, or seen her entwine their hands, or pout her lips for a kiss she had to have right that second, at least twice. She was more prone to posting photos of Calum on Instagram with captions that ranged from sweet to thirsty as hell. Every time she attempted to bake for Calum, it would almost always be using a heart-shaped mould or cutter she’d found at the pound shop down the street. And at Calum’s gigs, everyone always knew exactly where she was in the crowd because Luke was yelling about the incredibly sexy bassist with the best basslines in the history of bass at every possible moment. 

However, Calum thought her own brand of romance of just as valid, and Luke seemed to like it. Calum was a fan of surprising Luke with flowers, albeit wild bouquets of sunflowers and daisies rather than roses or peonies (“Wildflowers for my Wildflower.”), and of playing records on vinyl that she thought Luke would like - or that reminded her of her girlfriend - while they ate a dinner Calum had made from scratch because she’d seen a recipe online that she knew Luke would love. Calum also trusted Luke in a way that was rare for her, and lying in the dark of the their bedroom, speaking out loud things she’d never told anyone - childhood memories of her parents messy divorce, her deepest fears, greatest dreams, biggest secrets - whilst her girlfriend rubbed comforting circles over her hip and placed gentle kisses on her shoulder, felt intimate and special in a way Calum hoped Luke felt was romantic. And like she said - her card writing skills were sick.     

Luke sat up on the sofa, freeing herself from underneath Calum’s arm. She clicked the pause button on the remote, dropping it onto the rug as she threw her hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, I take it back; you are the most romantic I only meant in, like, movies and stuff! Obviously you are the most romantic and beautiful and I love you!”

Calum sniffed, trying to keep her sad face on without breaking. “Obviously not, as I don’t have a European city to not go to for you…”  Luke saw her girlfriend’s mouth twitch at the corner. Right. She tucked her long legs underneath herself, settling back on the sofa as she spoke. “Like I said, I take it back - I was wrong.” 

Calum could count on one hand the amount of time she had heard Luke say those three words during their relationship, and was ready to celebrate a substantial victory, until she clocked the smile spreading across Luke’s face that spelled trouble.

Luke continued in a purposely casual voice. “The actual most romantic thing I’ve ever heard was on our third date, when you drank all those daiquiris and told me that one day you were gonna ‘fucking wife me’.” Calum groaned and tried to sink back into the sofa so it could swallow her whole; this plan was thwarted by all the Ikea cushions.

“Shut up, that wasn’t me. You must have me confused with your other girlfriend. I don’t even drink daiquiris.” Luke’s distinctive laugh filled Calum’s ears; she loved that sound (it was in her top 3 sounds that Luke made), but right now she felt so embarrassed at the memory of her nerves getting the better of her in a Tapas restaurant that she couldn’t really enjoy it.

“Maybe not anymore! But Ashton told me how much of the morning after you spent with your head in the toilet, so I guess it makes sense you gave them up.” Luke teased, her blue eyes bright with mischief.

“I hate Ashton.” Calum mumbled, with nowhere near as much heat as was currently in her cheeks.

Luke’s giggles had taken on a unmistakable air of victory; Calum could not let this stand.

“Right, that’s it; we’re watching ‘Pulp Fiction’!” Calum declared, leaning down to feel around on the floor in the dimly lit living room for the remote where Luke had abandoned it. “Noooo!” Luke whined, reaching out to grab Calum’s wrists as she rose in triumph. “Cal!” She pouted as she missed entirely. It had always made Calum laugh when Luke tried to overpower her in any way; she was clumsy, and she wasn’t quick or strong enough to get the jump on Calum, unless she cheated (which she often did). In the past, Calum had hoped Luke wouldn’t notice the way she clenched her thighs together when the blonde would wiggle against her, bite her lip, whine or pant. Inevitably, as their relationship had continued, Luke had become fully aware of the effect she had on Calum, and now employed her sexuality as a weapon against Calum whenever she deemed it necessary. Nowadays, she tended to cut to the chase, as she was now. Calum barely registered the remote being extracted from her slackening grip as Luke held the grey sweatshirt and her cropped pyjama top up above her chin with one hand. She did register Luke’s small but perfectly formed tits, and wondered briefly what they had been talking about. Luke didn’t let her clothes drop back down to cover her breasts until she’d already unpaused the movie and stashed the remote underneath the armrest on her side of the sofa. 

“That...was savage.” Calum deadpanned, shaking her head as she clambered to her feet. Luke put on her most innocent smile (which was not that innocent if you knew her as well as Calum did). “Do you want another drink?” “Yes please, gorgeous.” Luke replied with her eyes still fixed to the screen, her lips moving in the time with the actress on screen with the dodgy bangs. Calum rolled her eyes fondly before making her way to their small kitchen in search of rosé.

She didn’t notice it until she closed the fridge again, but Luke had responded. 

Earlier in the day, Luke had used their alphabet fridge magnets to spell out ‘BUY MORE MILK’. Upon seeing this just after lunch, Calum had immediately checked she had the right letters to arrange the obvious reply; ‘NO FUCK U’, giggling to herself the whole time she’d been doing it. She let out a snort, picking up the personalised wine glasses Michael had gifted them when they moved in together. She set off back towards the living room, idly thinking about what movie she was going to demand they put on when this torture was over.

‘NO U’.

***

my masterlist   • please let me know what you think of wlw!cake and if you would like to see more of them here!

[the-blind-assassin-12]

A Big Step

A/N: Another in the Play the Hand You’re Dealt event, this one takes a look at the night before Benjamin moves in with you, and how it compares to a similar memory...  This is related to the It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like... / Too Good To Be True timeline. 

Word Count: 2,176

Requested by: @something-tofightfor​ - Benjamin, Fluff, Memories or Photos, Reader’s POV 

“Is this the last…” you gestured to the corrugated brown box using the black marker in your hand, the cap stuck to the bottom leaving the inky tip exposed. “That everything, Benjamin?” There’s still some room in here if we need to stick anything else in. Looking up from where you sat, legs sprawled and surrounded by newsprint and bubble wrap, you felt your cheeks grow warm as they lifted into a light smile.  

Balancing two full boxes in his arms, he grinned at you from over the top of them. I bet those are both books. “Should be.” He crossed the small space to set the boxes down near the front door, where five others just like it were stacked next to a suitcase and an overnight bag. You leaned back and craned your neck so you could see around his legs at what he’d written on the side. Your smile grew when you saw the word, the B scrawled tall and thin just like in his signature, two squat O’s kept in place by a rigid K, the whole thing rounded off with the soft tail he gave his S. Knew it. He let out a breath as he straightened back up, brushing his hands on his pants. “We’ll do one last check in the morning but,” he scanned the small space, shelves and closets empty, not even a hanger left swinging on a bar. “I think that’s the last of it.” 

“Good,” you stifled a yawn as you wrote the word miscellaneous on the box you’d been packing, full of paperweights and picture frames and souvenir statues, odds and ends he’d collected through the years, things he’d managed to cling to even in the ever turbulent and constantly changing current of his life. It wasn’t a lot, but it was what he had, and you’d enjoyed getting to help him pack it all safely away. You’d been to Benjamin’s shoe-box sized flat plenty of times, and you’d seen most of the things that you’d carefully wrapped and packed before. But seeing them up close, holding the Newcastle United mug that sat on his bookshelf and feeling the chip in the edge with the meaty tip of your thumb, or noticing the way that the screened logo of the football club’s crest had faded in one spot due to sunlight exposure from the slant in the blinds had somehow felt more intimate. You saw him in that cracked white porcelain and the coins, buttons, screws and paper clips that had managed to make their way into it, and you couldn’t help but imagine how it would look mixed among all the knick knacks and nonsense that accented your overflowing bookshelves at home. 

Home. The word sent a jolt of excitement through you. It's going to be his home, too...our home. The realization had been hitting you in small bursts since the two of you had discussed living together a few weeks back, but it felt different as you folded the flaps to close that last container, running your hand over the marker ink that you could still smell. It’s real now. You shoved the box to slide it over with the rest and he dropped his hands down to help you up. 

“Tired?” His fingers wrapped tightly around your palms and he gave a strong pull. You drew your legs up and pushed off the ground into a standing position, nodding as another yawn crept up on you. Benjamin laughed as he pulled you into his chest, letting go of your hands so he could press you closer. Eyes slipping closed, you hummed as your cheek made contact with the soft material of his tee. He’s so warm. A lazy smile curved your lips as you felt his touch along your spine and his breath in your hair. “Me too.” 

I can tell. It wasn’t just the way that you could feel the heaviness in his limbs as they wrapped around your body. You could see it in his eyes, a glassy haze lightening them as his lids drooped low enough for his top lashes to sweep the bottom ones. You’d caught him rubbing them, reaching two fingers beneath his lenses to try to shove the sleep back inside. It was also evident in the disheveled nature of his hair. While he never spent much time styling it, it always looked like more of a mess at the end of a long day, parts of it sticking up at unruly angles from the way he’d comb and scrub his fingers and hands through it. And it’s been such a long day. 

Both you and Benjamin had put in a full day of work before you’d arrived to help him. You’d gotten there as the furniture donation service was finishing up collecting some of the larger pieces that he wouldn’t be taking with him- the slightly warped wicker bed frame, the two-seater folding table and chairs, the lumpy orange sofa and the clunky coffee table. They’d all been given to him by friends and colleagues who were more than happy to relieve their overstuffed attics and basements of their bachelor pad furniture when he’d found himself in need of it. Your house was already completely furnished, and even though you’d told him that there was enough room in the basement to keep everything if he wanted to, he’d assured you that it wasn’t necessary. 

“I don’t think I’ll be needing any of it again,” he’d told you, an honest gleam in his eyes and a warm tone in his voice making your stomach flip. Everyone and their cousin had been sure to share their unsolicited opinion regarding your new living arrangement. You’d heard everything from “Two months? That’s too quick.” to “How do you know it’s going to work out?” and you knew that he’d been raked over even hotter coals, his friends reminding him of his former marriage and how he’d rushed things then. While you didn’t need anyone’s approval of your actions, you’d be lying if you said it hadn’t made you just a little nervous. But hearing the certainty in his words bolstered the faith that you had in this decision. I don’t think you’ll need any of it again either, B. 

Sighing, you opened your eyes, knowing that if you didn’t you were likely to fall asleep on your feet. “We should lay down, get some sleep.” You turned, resting your chin on his breastbone to look up at him as his hands slid down to your waist. “Early start tomorrow and-” the rest of your sentence fell into the gaping maw of yet another yawn. And its a big day...and I’m exhausted.

The skin on the bridge of his nose wrinkled as his lips twitched into an even fuller smile, lifting his cheeks. “We should. Or, well,” he brought one hand up, tilting his head as he traced your right eyebrow with the tip of his pointer finger, the others trailing softly over your forehead and into the wisps of hair that framed your face. Oh that’s...when he does that it’s… “We should try.” His hand cupped the side of your face and you leaned into it, feeling his long fingers threading through the loosely gathered hair at the base of your ponytail. He chuckled and you did too, knowing that you’d be sleeping on an old air mattress that likely had a hole in it, was too small for two people to fit comfortably, and would almost inevitably result in one or both of you taking an elbow to the ribs and waking up on the deflated remains of the vinyl cushion. But if I’m waking up with him it doesn’t matter. You shivered as you realized you’d be waking up with him every morning from now on, in the same bed, under the same roof.   

“I’m sure we will. I know I will.” This time you stifled your yawn by tucking your face down against his body and squeezing your lips together, but you weren’t fooling anyone. Not even a flat mattress is keeping me awake tonight.  

He let out another small laugh as he reached down to untuck your chin. “I know you will, too.” Taking the hand from your face, he reached up to remove his glasses, folding the arms and setting them next to his keys on top of the tallest box. “I just,” he returned both hands to your body, eyebrows gathered together and a breath leaving his lungs but his eyes never leaving yours. What’s wrong?  “I wanted to…” 

“Benjamin?” You gave him a squeeze before raising one hand up to smooth out the furrows in his brow with your thumb, your fingernails scratching lightly along his hairline. Curving your hand around his cheekbone, you trailed your touch down over his scratchy beard and leaned in to brush your nose against his. “What’s the matter?” 

He shook his head, squinting to focus his gaze even more intently. “Nothing.” Turning his head, he quickly left a kiss to the center of your palm. “Nothing at all.” He pulled you back into him then, lips finding the same spot in your hair as before, leaving another kiss there as you felt his hand come up to cradle the back of your head, rocking you gently before continuing. “I just wanted to thank you… for all of this. For… for helping me and, and for…” Helping you? Of course I...why wouldn’t I? He sighed. “For making me feel like you want me to move in with you, and not like I’m...like I’m some kind of…” Of course that’s what I want. You felt him swallow and guessed where the conversation was headed. “When I moved in with...with Julia,” you flinched at the sound of her name. Get used to it, she’s his ex-wife you’re going to hear about her. “Do you know what I think about when I remember that day?” How often do you think about that day? You immediately chastised yourself. Not the point, let him talk. “I remember that she didn’t even offer to help me pack or even pick me up, she just… joked about how little I had and-” he scoffed and you felt him shift to look down at you. You tried to conceal the contempt you felt for the other woman, for the way she’d belittled and underestimated him at every turn, but you weren’t sure if you were successful. “You know, I don’t blame her kids for the way that they acted towards me, not in the beginning.” He shook his head. “She didn’t even tell Leo that I was moving in. Didn’t… She knew it was going to be an uncomfortable conversation, so she pushed it onto me instead. Guess she didn’t think it was a big enough step to warrant any wave-making, but…” 

“But it is a big step.” You hadn’t meant to interrupt him, but you didn’t want him to think that he had to downplay what this milestone meant just because Julia had. I don’t know much about her, but I know I’m nothing like her. You wanted to make sure he knew it, too- knew that he could be himself and express himself and feel what he felt. Otherwise, what’s the point? “It’s an important step, because it means-” 

It was his turn to interrupt, and he did so by covering your mouth with his own and grasping your face between his hands. Stunned only for a second, you quickly responded to his kiss, left hand gripping the top of his shoulder, the right sliding up his jaw. You could feel it working beneath your palm as his lips and tongue moved with yours. God he’s a good kisser. Your fingers curled, biting into the skin at the back of his neck as you rose on your toes to get a better angle. You felt everything you were going to say echoed in that kiss- it means trust, it means taking the first step towards a future, it means taking a risk...together. It was a risk you’d never taken before, but for the first time in your life, you were more afraid of missing the reward than suffering the loss. 

When he finally broke the kiss, you opened your eyes slowly to see him already looking at you. “I know what it means,” he nodded, eyes brightening despite the sand man’s handiwork causing them to start falling shut. “And you do too.” Yeah, Benjamin, I do. Before you could confirm his statement, you were struck by another yawn and he laughed, a warm rumble leaving his chest. “Come on, let's go get some sleep.” He kissed your cheek and took your hand, leading you into the other room where the mattress, pillows and blankets were already waiting. 

Eyes already closed before you were fully horizontal, you felt yourself give into the void of sleep but not before you could answer him. “Good idea...big day tomorrow.”  

.

.

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@something-tofightfor​​  @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​​  @suchatinyinfinity​​​​ @thesumofmychoices​​​​  @gollyderek​​​​  @malionnes​​​​  @becs-bunker​​​​ @warriorqueenofnarnia​​  @elanor-of-imladris​​​​  @traeumerinwitzhelden​​​​ @songtoyou​​​​  @michellemybelles-world​​​ @obscurilicious​​  @octosapiens​​ @luminex3​​ @with1love1anu​ @aikeia​

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from this or any taglist, and as always, THANK YOU FOR READING!! 

[lovemesomesurveys]

Do you sleep under your sheets or do they make you cold? Uh, sleeping under the blankets makes me warm, not cold. 

Eyeliner. Yes or no? Yes. When I wore makeup eyeliner was a must.

Who’s the first person you talk to via text in the morning? No one. I don’t text with anyone regularly.

Was that person your significant other? --

Does it take a lot for you to cry, or does it happen easily? It doesn’t take much anymore.

What was the last reason you cried? Stressed and frustrated.

Do you have someone who you can tell anything? yeah if i wanted to. i generally don't though. <<< Yeah, that’s pretty much how I am. I just tend to keep a lot to myself. Or vent about it to the void in a survey or on Twitter.

Do you have a boyfriend? Nope.

If so, is he your best friend? ---

What’s the one thing you regret more than anything? My regrets about not taking better care of myself and neglecting things I shouldn’t have.

Do you remember important dates? Yeah, I’m usually pretty good about that.

Do you like vanilla? Yes.

What about arrogance? I hate arrogance and cockiness.

Do you tan easily? I only spend enough time outside for one when I go to the beach, but yeah I always end getting one after.

Do you think light blue and light orange go together? Sure.

Do you have two of the same pair of pants? I have a ton of the same exact pairs of black and gray leggings. Jeans, too.

Do you know anyone with Type 1 Diabetes? Not that I know of.

Are you familiar with John Mayer? Yeah. I’ve known of him since “No Such Thing” came out in 2002. I like a lot of his songs.

Has someone ever pressured you to do something you didn’t want to? Yes.

Who gives the best advice? My mom.

Do you have a lot of pictures of you and your friends? Yeah. Former friends now, but yeah.

Once upon a time there was this perfect guy. Who is he? For me, Ty came pretty damn close. :/

Who do you usually see in your dreams? Family members, some former friends, and random people. Some of the random people are people I knew in my past, but wasn’t really friends with or anything, yet they pop up in my dreams for some reason. It’s so weird. 

When you go to the supermarket, what is the first section you go to? Depends on the store. We do most of grocery shopping at Walmart, though, and we always hit up the side with the medicine, soap, shampoo, etc. 

What did you have for dinner last night? Loaded potato wedges and egg rolls from Jack in the Box.

Do you own anything with the Playboy Bunny on it? No.

Where was the last beach you went to? It’s a couple hours away from me.

What has been your favorite concert you’ve attended? Jonas Brothers and Green Day. But concerts are just fun, I’ve really enjoyed all the concerts I’ve been to. 

Have you ever been rock climbing? No.

Are you a fan of seals? Sure. They’re cute.

Do you like ice cream? I like it, but I’ve never been a big ice cream person. It’s been a few years since I’ve had any, actually.

Do you own a bean bag chair? Nope.

Who would you choose to be stuck in an elevator with for nine hours? I’d really like to not be stuck in an elevator at all, please. That would make me extremely anxious and I’m claustrophobic.

What is your biggest fear? Losing my loved ones.

Have you ever played Gamecube? Yeah.

Are you allergic to anything? What? Tangerines.

Where is your phone? It’s on my bed.

What is two feet from your right arm? Some pillows.

Do you have a favorite pet? I only have one doggo and I love her very much. <3

Where were you at 10:12 this morning? I’ll be here.

Who was your first celebrity crush? Aaron Carter.

If God was standing by your window while you were asleep would you wake up? I think so. I think His presence would be very strong and would wake me up.

When someone drops something do you immediately go and pick it up for them? If I’m near where it fell.

Do you like the sound of velcro? Not particularly. 

Could you call your best friend right now and tell them your biggest secret, and trust them to keep it? I wouldn’t have to call her cause we’re in the same house, but yeah.

Have you ever played with toy cars before? Yeah, I liked playing with cars as a kid.

What kind of iPod do you have? I have an iPod Touch still, but I haven’t used it since like 2012.

What was the last sporting event you attended? I’ve been to a hockey game before and a couple school football games. I went to tag along with friends, I didn’t care at all about the sport, ha.

Do you own any vinyl records? No.

Are you the one in a group to talk a lot or do you listen? I’m a listener for sure.

Have you ever played Wii Fit? No. I played Wii Sports, though. Like the bowling one.

What was the last album you listened to? I don’t remember.

What is your shoe size? I wear a 6 in women’s (US). My Adidas are actually a 3 1/2 or 4 in kid’s, though.

If you were given a baby boy and 15 seconds to name him what would you choose? Alexander.

Do you have a favorite color? Pastels, rose gold, sea foam green, coral, and yellow.

Have you ever touched a caterpillar? Ahh, noooo.

Can you give a fact about Chuck Norris? He does a lot of informercials. ha.

Is there a YouTube channel whose videos you always watch? There’s several.

In your opinion, who has the best voice of the bands you listen to? Chester Bennington. RIP. 

What is your favorite coin? I don’t have one.

Have you ever set a table? Yes.

Have you ever witnessed something burn down? No.

Do you like coffee? If so, how do you take it? I love coffee. I like it with a flavored creamer or with cream and sugar. Or flavored lattes, mochas, and macchiatos. 

Have you ever won a game of chess? No. I never got the hang of the chess and didn’t have enough interest in it to really try.

Do you enjoy staying at hotels? I do. I think it’s fun.

Have you ever picked strawberries or apples? Nope.

Have you ever met someone famous? Who? Do tell! I’ve met Jamie Lee Curtis and Drake Bell.

Who is one singer or band you would kill to see live? I’m sad I never got to see Linkin Park while Chester was still alive.

How often do you bike ride? Never.

What is your best physical feature? Nothing.

Are you any good at Ping-Pong? I haven’t really played ping pong.

[orangenfrottee]

hastag game! get to know me

tagged by the amazing: @thugheadjones (I was so happy to get tagged but too lazy to copy&paste the questions on my phone. Oops.)

1. what is the color of your hairbrush? it’s... light wood.

2. name a food you never eat- I eat vegan, so there are a few things i don’t. In a more colloqial sense... I very rarely ‘never’ eat fruits. I’m really bad about it, unless someone cuts up something for me, I probably won’t eat any for .... months. It’s really weird.

3. are you typically too warm or too cold? I’m always too cold! (Unless it’s the middle of one of those record breaking heat waves we had nearly every summer for the last decade. Manmade global heating won’t directly kill me due to location, but I will be pissed off every day. We really have to save our climate.

4. what were you doing 45 minutes ago? Procrastinating while not quite following my online class.

5. what’s your favorite candy bar? I like Mamba, okay? (Okay, that’s actually not really a bar in the classical expectation of this question, but... then again it’s even more of a bar and actually candy. I must admit, I still eat candy but the older I get the less satisfying it gets? I really like these coconut bars without mch else most drug store organic brands sell. And Mr. Tom saved me from certain famine a couple of times during trips.

6. have you ever been to a professional sports game? The most professional sport event I ever went to was a regional (or maybe even national?) Kendo youth competition. I never ever went to a game, professional or not.

7. what is the last thing you said out loud?  Probably something muttered under my breath along the lines of “could you return to the previous page”? I have so many unfinished lines in my class notes, because our professor really goes a little too fast without seeing any reaction from her students. (It’s fine though, she always gives us a copy of her notes, but yeah... I need to go through everything again anyway)

8. what is your favorite ice cream? The vegan icecream from Lidl is really amazing. There’s one with cookies and peanuts and something, it’s the best, really. I keep telling my mother about it.

9. what was the last thing you had to drink? black tea (with white chocolat syrup)

10. do you like your wallet? Yes? It’s this huge shock pink one I bought in harajuku eight years ago. My japanese bestie had one in lime green at the time, so it always kinda brings me back to her? (I really wanted an orange one though.)

11. what is the last thing you ate? A third of a banana. Yes. You know what an event that is in my life. I’m proud of myself. (It totally was the left over bit from my mum’s breakfast who also had a whole pear on top of it. I don’t know why I don’t eat fruit.)

12. did you buy any new clothes last weekend? Haha, no.

13. what’s the last sporting event you watched? probably that kendo competition 14 years ago. My mother really enjoys sports, so I definitely sat through some olympic/ football world cup/ athletics streams reading fanfiction

14. what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? Salty.

15. who is the last person you sent a text message to? A friend in Japan

16. ever been camping? No, we  did a lot of sleeping in our tents in the back yard though - and wait, there is a repressed memory of a horrible camping trip on a forced father’s weekend. Been there, done that, yeah.

17. do you take vitamins? Yes. B12 because I’m vegan and D since I had a terrible deficit a few months ago.

18. do you regularly attend a place of worship? No. I’s like to make a bathtub joke, but I don’t even have a great hair washing routine.

19. do you have a tan? No, not even the year I only wore hot pants all summer (though I was the tannest I’ll ever be that year). My snow white (!) bff came to visit and like half a day later she had an actual tan, so no.

20. do you prefer Chinese or pizza?  Pizza. Mostly because that’s actually easy to get, now that I’m vegan. Can’t remeber when I had (good) Chinese.

21. do you drink your soda through a straw? No, I’m not really a fan. I might one day buy reusable straws, but I don’t feel like I have use for them?

22. what color socks do you usually wear? Whatever socks I grab first? A lot are black or dark red with whatever pattern, I do have a lot of Sailor Moon themed ones though <3

23. do you ever drive above the speed limit? I’m a great cyclist but I only own a dutch bike (in orange!) so, hell no. I’m fast though and good at breaking.

24. what terrifies you? I don’t have a go to answer for this, because I never think about it. That doesn’t mean no fears, but I’m not aware of any.

25. look to your left, what do you see?  My comfy chair nd side table in front of my billy book shelves.

26. what chore do you hate most? Bathroom cleaning? Taking out the garbage? The weird ones you don’t have to do regularly, so you only notive their vague existince once tere’s a ton of work to do?

27. what do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? Not anything? I don’t think I hear them often, not sure if I’d actually recognize one.

28. what’s your favorite soda? Ginger Ale.

29. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? I just go to my kitchen. I’m usually better at just whipping something up myself.

30. what’s your favorite number? I once wrote a really weird text in school about hating the number four and a table when we had this creative writing task about assigning emotions and meanings to an object that were actually about something else (our example was a staircase) and all my class mates were whining about how hard that was and as if there were only two or three objects in the world one could use for that (staircases, doors, maybe a phone) when there are random things we can easily projects any emotion on. By the way, have you ever wondered about how men can get into the weirdest tangents when prompted with the simolest question? Suddenly they tell you the greatest stories about how amazing they are. What is that disorder named? Anyway, my favourite number might be seven - I’ll always be a Nana fan.

31. who’s the last person you talked to? my mother

32. favorite meat? tofu <3

33. last song you listened to? No. idea. Now it’s Lonely in Gorgeous by Tommy february6

34. last book you read? I’ve been reading City of Ashes for the last few months.

35. favorite day of the week? saturday

36. can you say the alphabet backwards? No.

37. how do you like your coffee? Non-existing.

38. favorite pair of shoes? My orange ones.

39. time you normally get up? I don’t.

40. what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? moonlight

41. how many blankets are on your bed? Thechnically five, but two are just resting over the headboard.

42. describe your kitchen plates? I’ve got really pretty white ones with dark red hearts on them. Friends of mine got them for me for my 18th birthday. Be smart and wish for useful stuff kids.

43. describe your kitchen at the moment: older than me but really pretty and freshly renovated. We threw out the old frifge that wasn’t working for 12 years and gotten some selfmade open shelving in its place. White painted cupboards, green walls, super modern ikea shelves, free standing eggshell coloured fridge, inherited table and chairs, new wood optic vinyl floor. It’s not actually my kitchen.

44. do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? No, I don’t drink.

45. do you play cards? seldom, but if so Rommee with the rules my great-grandmother taught me.

46. what color is your car? My bike is shiny happy orange.

47. can you change a tire? probably, but I was 9 when I last had to help.

48. your favorite state or province? of what? Liquid.

49. favorite job you’ve had? For about a year I worked (volunteered) for my japanese bestie’s cafe and was just so well taken care of <3

I tag, if you’d like, @catthecoder, @strangenightsofdaydreams and YOU dear reader <3