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[baselhas]

[baselhas]

whcrrible​:

she sticks out like a sore thumb,  perched nose high and subjugating, golden hair clashing violently against the dull, uninspired surroundings; the carmine bench, worn-out and imprinted by the weight of its passing customers,  no longer comfortable if it ever were, and the ancient wood tables distributed orderly, wiped clean enough times to fill them with tiny scratches everywhere.      “    that took you awhile.  ”    deliberately innocuous,  she half-heartedly mocks while peering out fogged windows, harmless as a dove, enthralled by the wild barking of rabid dogs outside.   “   lucky for you,  i wasn’t hungry.    ”     her fingers clutch to the only thing at her table that you’d instinctively assume belonged to her:  a tall glass of water with two cubes of ice floating and clinking against its damp rim.   “    sit.   i don’t mind.   ”

— 

He deliberately lets a silence hang in the air between them, not moving a single muscle, despite her offer. Something about the way she has said that made him regret even speaking up in the first place— perhaps, he’ll just let the sandwich sit in between them and it’ll get to go home with her in the end. And just like that, the foil-wrapped sandwich became the least of his concerns— strange, wasn’t it? 

“You sure that water isn’t mine either?” A halfhearted attempt at a joke, just to clear the air between them, well, to no avail. He sits with underlying hesitation, knitting his fingers together on the table, knuckles aligning like magnets. He takes a loose piece of the foil in between his thumb and pointer finger and slowly drags the sandwich towards him, all the while letting his gaze fall upon her. Carefully, as if disarming a bomb set to explode, he pries the foil to reveal the sandwich, gleaming in all its greasy glory. 

Taking one half into his hand, he slides the other back to her, his brows perking up to indicate it’s hers. “I mean— that’s why they cut it down the middle, no?”

[baselhas]

blairdiaz​:

One thing Blair had grown rather skillful at through her life was tuning people out. She’d learned early on how to let the noise around her go in one ear, and out the next. It was the only way she was ever going to live in the life she was born into. Surviving had never been enough for her, sometimes to live, you had to take, though in this instant, the accusation ringing through and settling a moment before it went back out the other. Blair’s eyes narrowed slightly as she twisted her head back to look at him, a small smile perched on her lips as she did. “ Or we had the same order. I don’t see why they would have made one of my sandwiches and not the other. ’ Blair turned her attention back to the attendant behind the counter. “ Could I get a bag, please? And this— ‘ thumb pointing towards the other beside her. “ One’s sandwich, please. ’

Alright, alright. He had to give the stranger this one, for she didn’t seem like the type to back down— and in this situation, he certainly was one to instead. Darting his eyes between the sandwich sitting on the counter and her, he took a slight step back and raised his hands up in surrender, hand then curving for her to take the sandwich. 

“All yours, m’am.” Observe how he hasn’t said she was right— for he still firmly believed that was his sandwich, even without having to look at it. But he was willing to give it up, for today just wasn’t the day to stand around and whine over a sandwich, no matter how much he wanted to take a bite out of one right now. 

“You want my coffee too?” He held the cup in between his fingers, offering it to her, the sarcasm evident in his voice. “It’s still hot and there’s nothing in it, so a blank slate for you to add milk and sugar in—” he’s still going at it and this point it’s confusing whether he’s still joking or not. But the slight pull on the corner of his lips only indicate he is— or is he?

[baselhas]

Tamino Amir by Charlie De Keersmaecker

[baselhas]

kaushalraja​:

—

Instead of addressing the obvious bad terms they were on, Bes read the situation at hand and Kaushal had to admit, he’d always been impressively intuitive. It was that particular part of him that used to make her feel comfortable. Still, it wasn’t his problem. “Nothing more wrong than dudes just being creepy.” Her reply was cut off by one of his friends.

Though Bes’ eyes were still on her, the voice shook her from the bubble that formed between them and Kaushal broke her gaze. “I’m just going to ring this up and go home—” Really, she was planning on walking to the next public space that was open and hang out there a bit, just in case, because she didn’t want to be followed home, but she wasn’t going to bug Bes about it. “—So you can do whatever.”

With more pride than Kaushal should have had, she sidestepped Bes, heading back in the direction where the guys at the front were. After picking up a bag of barbecue lays, she waited in line, keeping her face straight ahead, not making eye contact, even when one of the guys waved at her.

“Hey, hello.” He continued despite her pointed silence. “I just wanted to say you look beautiful. You doin’ anything tonight?”

Kaushal bit her tongue keeping her face stoic.

— 

Okay, he understood what was happening here. He stood in silence, his eyes just following her as she sidestepped him to ring up whatever she had in her hands. Then, they flickered over to the source of her problem, in the form of three men, seemingly drunk, their lips all disturbingly upturned into a smug smirk. 

A faint scoff left his lips, before he blindly grabbed whatever was on the shelf he was leaning against and walked up to the register, only to use his body as a human wall between her and the men. “What, you left the water running or something? I know you want to go home in time to watch the premiere, but leaving your boyfriend behind? That’s cruel, Binni, even for you.” A faint chuckle. Then fin.

His eyes darted up to hers as he placed a pack of instant ramen on the counter next to her bag of Lays, communicating to her to go along with the act. “Ah, let me also get a pack of Newports, boss, thanks,” he directed to the man behind the counter, who also seemed tense with the situation unfolding in front of him.

Without hesitation, Bes placed a crisp twenty on the counter, telling the man to keep the change, before stacking the purchases in his hand, slipping the Newports into the pocket of his pants. His free hand slipped into hers, tugging ever so slightly, his head tilting towards the entrance. “C’mon, I kinda want to watch the premiere too, but I think we might just miss the beginning.”

[baselhas]

astrorahi​:

—

“I know,” Rahi laughs. “It’s almost like I didn’t name my cat Buzz.”

Over Bes’s shoulder, he watches the crowd as it slowly dissipates. The noise and the voices it carries, fade along with it — slowly and gradually easing them into lonesome. He can’t tell what’s more eerie; all those students cramped into a hallway, or the silence they leave behind. 

“Damn. And I thought that was your subtle invitation to get high.” If only. “God, I’m not—” Professor isn’t a dirty word, but somehow, Rahi reacts as though it is. “I’m a guest lecturer, thank you very much. I’m like— the dad who picks you up on the weekends, but is never really around otherwise.” Coming to a stop, Rahi glances around for a moment, photographic memory aiding him in remembering just which way the doomed coffee shop might be. Got it. “Gasoline it is.”

— 

“You didn’t— no, you did?” his eyebrows raised at the question, his lips parted as a chuckle slipped past them.  And just like that, the noises, the bustling heads all seemed to disappear, leaving one, before there were none. Class was in session. A smile curled onto his lips as he saw himself, a tad bit younger, sitting outside these very lecture halls to light a cigarette— his immature way of “sending a message”. God, a mess he was back then (as if he wasn’t now?) 

“High? Man, that’s something you don’t hear often from a guest lecturer, is it?” He’s obviously joking, knowing the man was far from the stereotype, although he looked quite the part sometimes. “Besides, I barely smoke up these days— it tires me out man.” He nearly grimaced at the comparison; c’mon, a dad who picks you up on the weekends? But he laughed at it nevertheless, for a very good comparison it was indeed. 

“Is that it? Je-sus, what the fuck happened to it?” His reaction could make it seem as if the cafe was now nothing but a parking lot; but, in fact, it was for the exact opposite of that. The place was now beautiful, akin to the pop-ups he’s been seeing around Williamsburg nowadays. But did the coffee still taste like gasoline, despite the facelift? Well, there was only way to find out— “Let’s hope the coffee tastes as good as the cafe looks, shall we?”

[baselhas]

mcrtyr​:

There’s a stark juxtaposition going on here, Oliver and his expensive wool peacoat (ethically sourced, vegan wool, probably a #girlboss CEO) strolling the aisles of this local bodega, pretending he’s in his natural habitat when he couldn’t be more out of it. But on his long list of campaign promises, one of them is preserving small local New York businesses - bodegas being an exeplification of this - and so he’s trying to upload a photo or two to Twitter from this little hole in the wall to show off that he’s not all talk (even if, sure, in this case, he’s not actually a frequenter of bodegas, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t understand their importance). It’s supposed to be a quick in-and-out, but when his chief of staff asks him to grab her a sandwich on his way, he’s stuck waiting in the long line with exhaustion, made worse only when someone calls him out. “Oh,” he checks the wrapper again, nods. “Yeah, my bad, the order I’m picking up is all of that on an English muffin. Those carbs really sneak up on you, huh?” Then, because the whole point of this excursion is to emphasize the importance of these shops to the average New Yorker, he pushes on. “Do you come by this place often? It’s my first time, but it’s got some very good energy to it.”

Too occupied by the frenzy of it all, Bes failed to notice how out of place the man seemed. It wasn’t even the coat he had on, nor the blinding shine of his shoes, but the overall aura he gave off. He also was a face that Bes didn’t recognize, so that pretty much gave it all away. And if one has lived in this neighborhood for a while, they definitely knew Bes— and vice versa.

Carbs, did he just say carbs? “Uh, yeah, I guess— I mean I don’t know what to say to that because I eat this everyday, almost for all two of my meals,” the boy responded, not really equipped for small talk on any given day. But the man seemed pretty harmless; then again, who, in this city, was harmless? “Yeah? How so? I come here everyday-” the bodega owner, only known as Boss, chimed in, backing up his statement, encouraging a shy chuckle from the boy, “-so I guess I’ve never noticed. But what brings you to this part of the city?”

[baselhas]

Thousands of convenience stores and you choose the one by my place— no truer words could’ve been spoken. He knew he should’ve gone to that 7-Eleven instead, but perhaps his feet had subconsciously led him back here, yet again. 

Brows furrowed as she took a step towards him, with him still unable to find the right words to say to her; especially after the way they had left things. A few months have passed since that night, but a few months too few. He still thought about her every now and then, which was not expected at all. 

“.... Is something wrong?” seemed to be the only probable question to ask her, for he could just sense the distress coming from her (and no, it wasn’t only because she ran into him, although that could’ve played a part). Here he was, months later and he’s still choosing to be worried about her— something he should’ve done while they were still together. 

“Hey B, I think they’re out of the blue Gatorade—” one of his men called out from the fridge, slightly diverting Bes’ attention. But his eyes stayed on her, the tension loosening only slightly from his shoulders. 

@baselhas​

The late Friday night probably should have been spent doing something exciting—Something like visiting the Faux Folie. But maybe it was the horrible hangover Kaushal got from it last weekend that put her off the notion. Instead, she spent the last few hours after getting off work just fucking around her apartment. Several episodes of Grey’s Anatomy later, Kaushal felt a little tired, but it was her weekend and she wasn’t going to waste it by knocking out. The problem was when she went to check her fridge for an energy drink, she came up short.

Swearing under her breath, Kaushal shut her fridge and pulled a quick outfit on. The convenience store nearby was always open so she figured she’d pick some stuff up. Naturally when she got to the store, she was annoyed because it was more crowded than usual. She turned up the music in her headphones just a little louder. After picking up a few Bangs, Kaushal stood in front of the chips, debating what she felt like.

There was a suddenly uncomfortable feeling and Kaushal lifted her head to see three guys leering at her. Maybe if it was daytime and maybe if there weren’t so many of them, she’d have gone for the more aggressive approach, but as it was, Kaushal just felt a little scared. Abandoning the chips, she made her away around the opposite aisle only to nearly turn into someone.

“Shit—Bes.”

Annoyance and relief expressed itself at once by the small breath she exhaled that she didn’t realize she was holding. Kaushal wanted to step closer just to feel safe, but their last conversation made her hesitate. “Thousands of convenience stores and you choose the one by my place,” she greeted, keeping her voice flat. Still, she turned her head slightly to see that the men were still glancing at her. Kaushal took the step towards Bes.

[baselhas]

lolavillarin​:

—

“Yeah,” Lola quickly chimes in to the man’s comment, bright smile on. Twice her height and thrice her weight, Bruce made for quite the company whilst waiting. “We go to the same Trader Joe’s.” 

As Bes approaches, however, that smile slowly fizzles out — a look on her face that suggests she might just be in trouble. But no — it’s not so bad, not yet. 

Wind strikes Lola from the right, bring a hand up to shield her cheeks from any unruly strands. “Yeah, yeah. I haven’t had anything today.” If three venti cold brews don’t count. 

Walking away with small pebbles pooling around her heels (great choice, Miss Spring Summer at Vogue), Lola briefly glances back at the warehouse. “…Is this where my Amazon order ships from? Because I have more than a few complaints.” 

— 

“Nothing, huh? Should we get a meal too? The happy meal at McDonald’s looks very promising.” The wind strikes yet again and he tucks his loose dark locks behind his ear to prevent it from hitting his cheeks. He’s a step or two ahead of her, looking back every minute or so, just to see her struggle on the gravelly path they were walking on. 

“-And let me give you Amazon’s number while we’re at it— they’ll surely get back to you with that.” A faint smirk tugs on his lips, before he faces forward again, the main street up ahead. 

“Wanna wait until we get the coffee or do you wanna tell me now? Cause if it’s urgent, you know, I don’t think I should hold it up.” 

[baselhas]

noravidal​:

Sneaky Nora took advantage of Bes’ bewilderment to grab the delicious-looking sandwich for herself. All was fair in love and sandwich wars. “What do you mean, hm?” There was a bright smile resting on her lips as she looked over at the younger man. “Back as in back in New York? I came back from my travels about two years ago. If you mean this place… Well,” she scrunched her nose as she took a look around. “I’ve missed it. There’s no food like sandwich of the gods, no comfort like Edith’s beaming face first thing in the morning– can’t believe she hasn’t changed a bit, in almost twenty years!“ Nora glanced over at the gray-haired owner and baker before her gaze found Bes again– a hand reached out to ruffle his hair. “What about you? Where did life take you? Still causing trouble wherever you go?”

Well, now that she mentioned it, he realized that he hasn’t seen her in over two years. “Has it been that long already?” The sandwich was now gone from the counter, only for it to be gleaming in her hands as a smile gleamed on his lips. “No matter where you are in the world, you’ll always come back to this, no?” he chuckled softly, pointing to his sandwich in her hands. Well, at least he still had his coffee, still hot in his hands, as he took a careful sip. “Mmm,” he let out a hum of uncertainty, not really sure what to tell her. Surely, he couldn’t tell her about his criminal activities, but he didn’t want to lie to her either. But lying would be for the better, right? “You remember how I was starting up dad’s business before you left? Yeah, that kinda kicked off—” he’s shy to admit it as so, “— and here I am now.”

[baselhas]

astrorahi​:

—

The familiar timbre of Bes’s voice hits him before anything else does. 

In the small crowd that gathers outside the auditorium, everything blends together: faces, questions, laughter. All unknown, however; and so the one familiarity manages to stand out. Stepping out and away from a circle of students, Rahi laughs at the sight of him — the comment belonging exactly to who he’d expected it to. 

“God,” he laughs, shaking his head and drawing up a palm to cover the embarrassment on his face. “Tell me you didn’t see that. I’ve never been so bad at something.” Public speaking, that is. But it should be noted that Rahi’s worse is only but the average person’s normal; his most terrible skills, still landing him safe. Not one fit for the crowds, he’s always been much more comfortable behind a notepad or a workbench, scribbling up numbers, theorizing, or setting something aflame. But what’s there to do, for a man who’d just been away with the stars? It was either this, or kissing babies. 

Walking further into the hallway and expecting Bes to follow, Rahi readjusts a folder under his arm. 

“Yeah, not to be that guy but, I have never seen so many nerds by square-meter in my life. And that’s coming from me.” He clicks his tongue then, trying to remember when he’d last gotten the privilege of tasting Columbia’s glorified brown tap-water. “Yup. A solid half-star from everyone who’s ever been there. Go— where?” Rahi glances around them, all those hallways he still hasn’t memorized, and then back at Bes. “The bathroom?” 

__

His eyes wandered around, taking in the nostalgia of it all— the heads passing by, books tucked under their arm, the incoherent chatter that was specific to a school setting. Not once has Bes regretted dropping out earlier than his fellow mates, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t miss this. The life of a student, having to worry about nothing else than an upcoming exam. 

His eyes then fell upon the other, a few steps in front of him, going on about god-knows-what. Nevertheless, it brought a smile to his lips, a sense of odd comfort spreading throughout his body. 

“Coming from you,” he chuckled, eyeing the students rushing by, “that does mean something indeed. And— yeah, the bathroom. No, but really, I do miss the taste of their coffee. That burnt, watered-down gasoline taste. A taste of nostalgia, you know? And I’ll buy you a proper cup later, yeah? To suit your palate, Professor.”

[baselhas]

nonverbal starters prompts featuring nonverbal scenarios.

guide take them by the hand, arm, or shoulder to guide them.

shelter protect them.

shove push them.

loop drape an arm around their shoulders.

touch a gentle touch like rubbing their back, hugging them, holding their hand. 

kiss a kiss on the cheek, knuckles, forehead, in their hair.

palm smack them upside the head.

bed rest gently push them back down when they try getting out of bed.

aid help them with a task.

note pass a note to them.

cry wipe away their tears.

wash wipe something off their forehead, cheek, so on.

bandage patch them up when they get hurt.

heal take care of them when they get sick.

book silently read a story with them. 

carry pick them up. 

scrap punch them.

cherry find blood on them.

sit help them sit down.  

medical wake up in the hospital and find them holding their hand.

steer place a hand under their chin to make them look up. 

beat dance with them.

stare stare them down. 

off track get lost with them.

no shaking their head in disagreement. 

yes nodding their head in agreement.

rush tackle them to the ground.

open hold the door open for them.

[baselhas]

ezralevinsky​:

   “Egg and cheese? Yeah, that’s your alright. Call me a picky-eater, but I prefer them separate.” The warmed roll had been clutched between deft fingers in his left hand, the other balancing a steaming cup of coffee, the taste a fair compromise for the quarter it’d cost him. His Columbia-adjacent coalition with Res had brought him to the mover’s favourite haunt, a bodega that smelled of fresh pine and cigarette smoke, the remnants from patrons clothes, hanging in the air. Ezra enjoyed the heart found here; found himself feeling comfortable, even if the territory was entirely unknown to him. “So, is this a sit on some steps and chill, kind of thing? I can never decide on a permanent meeting place, for our Dead Poets Society type of deal.” 

There was just so much to unpack here— did he just say he preferred them separate? But nonetheless, the man being here, standing quaint in his button down, was quite a sight, bringing Bes a little lighthearted chuckle. 

“Uh— yup. That’s exactly what this is. We sit on the steps of some random brownstone like a scene from Friends and enjoy this egg and cheese deal.” Breaking into a laughter shortly after, he shook his head as he takes the aluminum foil-wrapped sandwich into his own fingers. 

“Well, O Captain My Captain, I usually just—” he unwrapped the foil in front of his eyes, revealing the beauty that was a freshly made bodega sandwich, and feigned taking a bite, as if he was presenting a simulation. “Anywhere and everywhere, really.”

[baselhas]

@astrorahi

“A rather odd place to meet up, isn’t it?”

Bes stands in the doorway of an empty lecture hall, watching the other pack up the quintessential professor’s satchel, a smile taut on his lips. “I’ve never talked business on campus grounds, let alone the big C— god, I was miserable here.”

But when did they ever really discuss business? He wouldn’t say they met up for lively banter as friends, but contract-wise, they weren’t allowed to really discuss business either. The time really did just fly on by every time they met, and soon, Bes has found his company to be oddly comfortable. 

“Do they still have that off-brand Starbucks on campus? Believe it or not, I worked there for a good semester— but they caught me smoking in the bathroom, so.” A shrug. “You think we can go there?” 

[baselhas]

So, she’s got to be kidding him right? 

Yes, she wasn’t supposed to be here— how did she know where he was in the first place? Well, of course, the bigger-than-life truck was not necessarily the best to “keep low”, but the city was an even bigger place, his truck being merely a speck of dust.  “What-” he mutters to himself, cigarette hanging low from his lips, before squinting his eyes to make out the figure calling over to him. “She’s been there for a while now, B,” one of his men point out, before going on with business. Bes didn’t need to hear more— he just knew from that haircut of hers that it was none other than Lola.  He leaps from the truck, landing comfortably on his feet and dusting off his pants before approaching her, taking quick drags from his cigarette, only to stamp it out in front of her. “Yeah, I guess— but uh, what’s up? Wait, actually hold it, let’s go get a cup of coffee, yeah?” 

@baselhas 

“Bes! Hey— Bes. Pssst.” 

So Lola’s not supposed to be here — Big deal. She’s not supposed to be in almost all places she stumbles upon, that restlessness driving her feet forward until they find trouble. Not that Bes’s business is trouble, exactly (oh, isn’t ignorance simply bliss?), but the potential is there. 

Completely out of place, Lola stands in the middle of the driveway, waiting for him to notice her. Against the men around her, shirts nearly pulling at the seams as they carry boxes around, her existence is much the comical view. (The leopard print coat and distinctive Dora-The-Explorer haircut give her away almost immediately. A sore thumb could have blended in smoother.)

“Hi. Hey.” She retracts her shoulders a little further in. “…I can’t believe people actually answer to you. Weird.” Anyway — back to business: “I need a responsible adult.”

[baselhas]

noravidal​:

Nora stepped forward and reached out to take her order, but a male voice interrupted her– which made her stomach growl even louder. The older woman turned to face the man with an arched brow, but as she recognized him, she patiently waited for him to say what he had to. “Have you forgotten who introduced you to the sandwich of the gods, little Bes? Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Nora clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, but there was a look of amusement written all over her face. “However, I do appreciate your feisty spirit.”

the sandwich was now well out of his attention, for all of it was shifted onto the very stranger who was about to take his sandwich. “nora?” a smile tugged on the corner of his lips, his brows furrowing in bewilderment. they were the most expressive feature of his face, anyways. “what are you doing back here? haven’t seen you since, shit, i can’t even remember.” the warmth that emanated from her was persistent, the same as it was years before. he never had a chance at a sibling, let alone an older one, so she was the closest he could ever have to a sister. so yeah, he could say that he had missed her— but so much has changed since then. would she still see him the same way?

[baselhas]

Tamino by Ramy Moharam Fouad