#assembly line

[ikkaku-of-heart]

@pxison asked: (Deity verse Reiju) "Apologies for my brothers, they don't seem to know when enough is enough." She says softly to the goddess of light that has happened upon a scene of utter travesty. The handiwork of her fellow calamities no doubt, and it was up to her to collect the casualties that resulted from it all. "Those that remain could really use a shining light in their darkest hour and I am ill-suited to provide that guidance." Unprompted

Of all of the Horsemen, Death was the one Ikkaku could find most tolerable, surprisingly enough. Reiju was far less wretched than her brothers, to be sure. She understood her purpose. She didn't revel in the misery she created and leave a mess for the likes of Ikkaku to clean up. Reiju was Death, yes, but she respected the lives she took and sought to guide the souls to their deserved afterlife, just as Ikkaku guided the living. They were similar and held a mutual respect for the necessity and value of their respective duties.

It was why Ikkaku couldn't get angry at her, as much as she'd love to scream and rage and unleash her fury at something. Reiju was not the guilty party. Yes, she had caused some of this, but her domain was a natural side effect of Conquest, War, and Famine. If nothing else, she was the one who put an end to her brothers' "fun" whenever they were unleashed.

"Thank you," the Lady of the Light sighed, looking around at the desolate city that had once thrived. Bodies and rubble littered the streets. Smoke and distant cries still filled the air. Pain and suffering was so thick one could almost taste it. It made the goddess' stomach turn. "Your brothers...they did a number on this place. Worse than usual, from the looks of it. But humans are resilient. I'll show them the way, and they'll rebuild their lives, then their city, and once again thrive." It was said as much to herself as it was to the other goddess. A reminder to them both.

Turning, Ikkaku met Reiju's eyes, her gaze sympathetic and soft smile encouraging. "And don't sell yourself short. You might not be able to guide the living, but I admire your dedication to the dead. Your changes would be just as lost as mine without you. Death is the natural end to any journey, whether your brothers are involved or not. Though I sure as hell wouldn't mind them being less involved for the next century or so."

[skrunksthatwunk]

about to start queuing like 1000 posts i have in my drafts for no reason ✌️✌️

[particlexxdealer]

I'm noticing a see-saw effect on my numbers (or the bots are taking themselves to the trash), so just a warning: I try to write my drafts once a week (Sat or Sun) and queue them due to my new work schedule. I will be slow on replies and I apologize for that, I'm still adapting to a new life schedule. Please be patient with me. I most likely have your reply in my drafts or likes, I'm trying to grab time to give proper attention to each one. If I can't do drafts one week, expect drafts completed once every two weeks.

[didyoulookforme]

need you tonight

part of give me a moment (aka stylist au as briefly described in this tag)

warning: 18+, smut. probably grammatical errors, typos.

au masterlist here

-----

“sorry—‘m sorry”

you’re pretty sure those are some of the only words that stumble past his lips as you go down on him. perhaps an apology for his ring getting tangled in your hair, trying to keep you close. but to be honest, the more cynical part of you hopes it's pure regret for fucking someone else just hours before.

it was not strange for you to crave a nicotine hit at this time, more often than not stepping out the bus to smoke a cigarette or two prior to calling it a night, that first inhale always making your head buzz a little as the all-too-familiar warmth runs through your limbs, a much welcome sensation to try leave the tiredness behind.

every day was like clockwork. bus arrives at the venue. stage and lighting are assembled. band soundchecks. you have a quick dinner. then it's time for him. after all, it's what you're here to do, work as matty's own personal stylist during the tour.

you had no clue luck had finally struck when you opened those dms earlier this year.

(13:43) trumanblack: hey (13:43) trumanblack: i found your profile via my friend (13:44) trumanblack: i really like your style n you look pretty cool

(13:58) trumanblack: sorry if this sounds creepy. promise i'm a real human tho (13:58) trumanblack: x

you didn’t recognize him. however from a swift scroll through the feed, you gathered that his name was matty. apparently the front man of a seemingly popular band with a fanbase head-over-heels lusting for them.

mostly him, though.

you couldn't help but gaze at his lanky frame and pale skin adorned with ink, zooming in on certain posts to try decipher what they were. he definitely had a point of view when it came to dressing himself—sometimes a bit messy and chaotic, but for the most part pleasing to the eye, a quality you appreciated given your line of work. his seemingly playful demeanour across photos made it seem like he was perhaps younger than you, this time a google search confirming that, in fact, he was born three years later. april 1989.

countless press photos appeared under his name and you spent the next half hour swiping back and forth between articles, finding him intriguing enough and giving you the surge of confidence to respond.

and that's basically why you're leaning against this tour bus now. the friendly banter with a stranger led you to travel the world and do what you enjoy most. the fancy clothes. the colourful glitz. the wild after parties. this stuff that you always dreamed about was somehow now your own reality that you often had to pinch yourself to ensure you weren't just passed out cold on the sofa back home.

however, this almost too good to be true gig also led you to fall for a guy, the same one whose collar you straighten almost every night.

the most fucking cliché story. some assistant falling for her boss just months after being hired. it actually makes you feel sickeningly stupid, embarrassed. still you can't seem to stop digging yourself deeper into a hole with every hour you spend caring for him, not being made any better by matty being nothing but affectionate towards you behind closed doors.

you know he’s the reason your nicotine addiction has increased tenfold, always finding yourself alone at this hour enveloped in smoke, part of you still wanting to pretend you do so to numb out the sleepless nights. took you a while to finally admit you did it as an attempt to cloud out any thought of him.

tonight’s really no different.

you’re not sure how much time has passed, but it’s enough for the cold to start settling on your skin. perhaps it’s your queue to stop and go back in. you snub out your cigarette, watching the red embers fade just as a car rounds the corner. it halts to a stop only a few meters away, and you catch the faint sound of a door creaking open, followed by the murmur of voices filling the night air.

then you hear it. that unmistakable high pitched laugh that can pull you awake in a single second. him.

and, of course. you immediately know why.

you’d learned pretty early on this was a common end to the routine: matty picks up a girl at the gig, goes fucks her somewhere, and has her drop him off right after.

reminds you of the number of red and purple bruises you often cover up before his show. it wasn't rocket science figuring out the cause, yet he never really addresses it, choosing silence and averting his gaze as your fingertips dab foundation on tender skin, temporarily hiding any remains of nights prior.

you didn't even notice your eyes had closed. not until the car door slams shut, jerking them open just in time to see him blow a kiss in her direction. your heart fractures at the sweet gesture, but only hurts for a second before he's walking towards you, his stupid wide grin mending it better.

"didn't expect to see you out here.”

open button-up untucked. blazer over his shoulder. dark curls frizzy and disheveled. everything making it crystal clear he's just slept with someone else and still not you.

"only making sure you make it back alright so i can tuck you in." of course, you wish that were the case.

it's only a few seconds until he settles next to you, leaning over to kiss your cheek. soft lips gently brushing against your skin. the way he always greets you—but only when no one's watching.

"aren't you sweet, then?"

"trying my best." given the circumstances, it's pretty much all you can do.

he pulls out his beat-up cigarette box, flicking it open and offering you one. you decline, showing him the smothered tip of your own before finally tossing it aside.

"guess it must've been a pretty good time today," you lick the pad of your thumb before rubbing a lipstick mark off his jaw. it’s always ruby red or deep maroon. those same tones which he'll compliment you on. a similar shade you left on his lips the only time your mouth had been on his.

you finish cleaning the stains off his skin, matty murmuring a soft ‘thank you’ for having done so. it’s your turn to kiss his temple. “‘tis my job, you know? making sure you look good.” you should be mad, upset, have some sort of negative emotion. instead, you can’t help but have your heart intermittently flutter when he returns a sheepish smile, his arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you close.

neither of you say much, but that’s alright. you rest your head on the crook of his neck, noticing how nice it feels. how nice he feels. you see the chipped nail polish on his fingers. the wrinkled fabric of his flowered shirt. the dark hair down his torso. the unbuckled belt at his waist. it’s only then that jealousy creeps itself back in and suddenly your shoes seem all that more interesting than the man standing by your side.

"why do you do it, matty?" the sweetness of your voice never fails to mask the envy you actually feel. or at least you hope it does.

"hmm?"

"the sleeping around.” you finally lift your head to look at him, surprised that his pretty eyes were already on you. the toothy smirk is gone, though, replaced by a thin, expressionless line at his lips. he doesn’t owe you an explanation. you know that. thus why you’re surprised when he actually starts to talk.

"dunno, really.” he lights up another cigarette and you notice as he gets lost in his mind. “i mean, it’s kinda difficult to say no to sex or a blowjob when they’re literally throwing themselves at you.” he seemingly tries to joke, but you don’t have time for funny right at this moment.

instead you wonder if it’s actually that easy.

“let me do it, then.”

“so—sorry?” he chokes mid-drag.

“let me give you a blowjob just like those other girls do. just like she did,” you point at the ghost of that green car from before, “ just tonight.”

it’s like his face cannot figure out which expression to land on, flipping between confusion, surprise, and something else that reads between need and desire.

“what the fuck?” his voice is shaky and it stings when he pushes you aside, yet, he doesn’t try hard to put much distance between you two so it’s not difficult to invade his space, standing right in front of him until your face is a breath away from his. large, calloused hands grasp your shoulders tight, halting you from inching closer.

“don’t.”

“what’s the difference between them and myself, then?” seems like a simple enough question to you. “why can they have you and not me?”

but he has no answer, at least not one that he can properly voice. his hold on you starts to lessen, perhaps giving you some permission to let you do whatever you want.

you bring your hands up to his and pull them away, kissing his knuckles before placing them on your waist. an almost incoherent ‘fuck’ leaves his lips, and, as if on cue, his head falls back willingly, giving you the space to kiss his neck. the faint smell of her still on him.

“please let me,” you whisper against his skin.

it’s not even a question at this point.

his fingers dig into your hips as you look at him once more, now noticing a mixture of lust and care in those almond coloured eyes. for a minute there, you get lost in them, admiring how his pupils dilate when your hands find the button of his pants, and how they shrink back as you finally undo the zipper. you don’t want to waste any more time—you’ve already waited too long—so you slide your palm down his pants to grab his half-hard cock, his eyes instantly rolling to the back of his head when you wrap your fingers around him.

“is this okay?”

you take the buck of his hips as a confirmation, giving you the courage to spread the precum along his length. he feels nice. having him in your hand seems just right and you only hope that he won’t regret this when he wakes up next morning in bed.

tonight is your turn to suck on the skin alongside his jaw, the thought of having to cover your own marks making you smile.

“fuck, baby.”

you’re not sure if he even noticed that sweet name leave his mouth, but you like the sound of it, and it’s all it takes for you to drop to your knees, dragging his pants and boxers down just enough to pull out his dick.

you look up at him once more, his left hand coming to tangle on your head, his other loosely holding his cigarette, almost done and fully forgotten. you kiss his tip, your gaze still not leaving his, thoroughly enjoying yourself as he bites his bottom lip each time your thumb hits that spot under the head of his cock. his scent is almost too much to bear so you take him in one go, feeling his cock twitch inside your mouth. it doesn’t take long before he’s fully hard and hitting the back of your throat.

the plastic taste of latex is still on his skin. a sad reminder that you weren’t his first tonight. that maybe you are an afterthought. just another girl who he uses to make himself come. but at least it means you get to have him even if it’s just this one time.

matty. that’s all that’s on your mind. once again. somewhat difficult to not think about him when you’re sucking him off, those heavenly sounds coming from his mouth making your own slick drip down your leg.

you pull away to catch your breath, using your hand to keep stroking him, pleasantly surprised when he pulls on your hair each time your red fingernails graze the underside of his cock. you do it again and again until he breaks and fucks your hand, apologizing for not being able to help himsel. it’s a sight you’ll commit to memory as long as you’re alive.

now that you’ve had a taste, it’s only so long you can go without having your lips around him. and that’s what you do, take him again, hands urging his hips to fuck your mouth. to fuck himself senseless in the hopes that you’ll be the one he turns to when he needs somebody else. he doesn’t deny your request, throwing away the wasted cigarette to guide you, setting a pace that allows him to stay steady on his feet.

purely drunk on him, you're barely aware when his phone vibrates in his pocket, matty muttering 'sorry' before grabbing and letting it drop onto the grass at your side. nosiness always gets the best of you, so you can't help but glance down, catching sight of a text from an unsaved number asking if he could fuck her again tomorrow.

you feel his hips falter. he knows you've seen it.

“’m sorry.”

this time it's a mix between a cry and a whimper. perhaps he did feel bad. perhaps some part of him did care about you in the way that you needed him to.

you reach back to place your hand on top of his, making him push your head further into him, to thrust into you until tears pool at your lashes just as he spills hard and fast down your throat. his taste overtakes every cell of your being as you swallow, feeling him soften against your tongue before you reluctantly pull away.

you didn’t even realize your knees were so sore until you stand up, not wasting a second to ask him is he's going to see her again the following night.

"do you want me to?" his thumb wipes away some of his cum off the corner of your lip. you reach out to suck it, slowly shaking your head in response.

he laughs nervously as his mouth clashes against yours, stealing both the air from your lungs. this wasn't the first time you’d kissed, but this wasn’t like before. the way he quietly moans against your lips. the softness of his fingers resting on your face. the crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he pulls back.

"can i see you tomorrow, then?"

you could’ve sworn you heart stopped. can you truly believe those words after watching him leave you behind all those nights? the soft circles his thumbs draw on your skin do feel sincere, the reassurance you need to perhaps let him in, give him a chance even though you know it’s a slippery one.

it’s your turn to brush your thumb against his mouth, slowly pulling at the bottom lip and watching it bounce back up into place. you kiss him one last time before confirming 'okay', immediately turning to finally head back in. not wanting to linger for too long in case he changes his mind.

you catch his reflection on the mirror, noticing as he tucks himself in, and it’s that slight smile on his face which keeps you awake for hours on end.

-----

for this lovely anon here. thank you for the inspo :) <3

[m4ctavish]

ghost — the apprentice.

masterlist.

pairing : simon “ghost” riley and gn!reader

desc : i can’t think of a funny description so, in short, ghost takes reader under his wing and teaches them a thing or two from his personal handbook. (“i’m reader and this is ghost and you’re watching jackass.” queue homemade c4 blowing up in the background)

a/n : ghost has reader on one of those kiddy leashes with like, a cat on it or smth.

simon “ghost” riley :

ghost really has to see something in you in order for him to even consider taking you under his wing. you’d have to show him that you’re worth him taking extra time out of his day to teach you something that you may just forget within the day

he can be a bit of an intimidating teacher. he’ll often quiz you on things he’s gone over with you within the past week or so, so you can either cover them again or figure out what you need to improve on.

there’s a variety of things he may go over depending on where your curiosity lies. guerilla warfare, hand to hand, knife efficiency, etc.

knife efficiency would likely be the one he’s the most serious about— he kind of has to be. all it takes is your target turning around and reacting before you do. perhaps you’re already efficient with a knife but there’s always room for improvement and ghost offers a plethora of information one normally wouldn’t know. he’s circling you like a hawk the entire time you go through the forms he taught you, stepping in with an occasional but jarring, “wrong.” every now and then. he’d then move to correct either your posture or the way you’re holding your blade. on another hand, if the two of you are doing a spar session for him to get a hands on assessment of your skill, he’ll be taking it as seriously as he does in the field. about maybe 30 seconds in, you’ll end up with a knife pressed up against your ribs, “you’re dead. stop being so open unless you want to get yourself killed.” or to your throat, “dead again. fix it.” he understands that sometimes mistakes happen. it’s just human nature. but he wants you to be able to minimize those chances so you don’t end up with a gun pressed to your head when you failed an otherwise safe takedown.

hand to hand is essentially the same. he’ll go through some forms with you, as well as a few moves. some are meant for immobilizing, others with the intent of knocking someone out cold. he’ll give you a demonstration on a training dummy beforehand, making sure to explain thoroughly what exactly you’re aiming for as well as the amount of force that should be behind your hit. adding on to that, he’d single out all of the weak points on the human body and what it’d take to cause some damage. (leaves you a bit concerned about how he knows all of this but maybe you don’t want to know..)

guerilla warfare and learning to make do with limited resources would likely be the most enjoyable/fun. it’s almost like an arts and crafts class except your crafts teacher is a decorated war veteran who kills people for a living. he’d give you a demonstration beforehand, listing off what you may need given what you have around you, then he’d give you instructions for whatever it is you’ll be putting together and see how quickly you can assemble it. (maybe if you’re lucky, he’ll take you out to a clearing and let you try out your freshly assembled trip mine or smoke grenade. just to see how effective it is.)

make him proud in the field; put your new knowledge to use. show him that everything he told you and showed you didn’t just vanish from your mind overnight.

the two of you make one hell of a team on stealth missions. rest easy knowing that he’s got your back the entire time, even if he’s not in your line of sight. (“coming up on your six.” or “on you, mate.”)

once everything is clear and you’re sitting on the helo after exfil, he’ll give you an affirming pat on the shoulder and a nod of his head. (“did good. keep it up.”)

[mahi-wayy]

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 - 𝑰 | 𝐁𝐄𝐘𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐇

PRELUDE | PREVIOUS | NEXT | MASTERLIST

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

Life in the complex was a repeated routine day in and day out. Get up, get ready, pick up your tasteless food, eat it and then pick up the nourishing diet of the positive female you were assigned, get her food and then come back to bunk. If you're lucky, or unlucky, you might be called for another task before the next meal you have to deliver.

That was how it was as far as Sum-80 can remember. She doesn't know who she was, where did she come from? Who were her parents? Her father, her mother. They didn't care for her much, that was sure, seeing as they let her be here.

She tried to put together a somewhat proper origin, instead of the pieces she remembered, when she had nothing to do. The most solid of which was sold for units. It was based on the blurry memory of a man, her father? handing her over in exchange for something, years ago and with time her memory has faded away the faces she once must have remembered.

Her name? She never thought about it. Her code inked in her skin had the number Sum-80, that was her identity like every other girl here, some have kind of translated them into names like the one who sleeps under her bunk. T-18, she called herself Tara.

She just couldn't come up with anything that felt right.

“Get up, the commander has called for an assembly, come get going you all.”

Her thoughts break as the guard yells, looks like another woman is going to get tested or something. She climbs down her bunk and joins the other black dressed ladies.

She slid in the middle of the queue, she didn't want the back place, no one usually did, the guards had a habit of being touchy. The first place wasn't safe either, she stood there once and almost got shot by a laser because the commander lost his cool, some weren't that lucky though.

The middle of the line was perfect.

As they completed assembling in the giant hall, she noticed one extra person in the room. She made sure she didn't look up for too long, who knows what they will see it as.

The new person in the room was a woman too, another test subject? No. The answer came to her when her eyes moved a little lower and she noticed a familiar inked triangle on her inner arm. She was another negative she guessed.

But maybe not? Her clothes were different from her own. While she and the rest of the negative female helpers wore long black robes with arm bands and a choker that pinpointed their vitals and location, the new face in the room was in a simple shirt and some pants with feet bare and hair pulled back neatly.

Her heart rate picks up as the gaze of the newcomer finds her own making her look down immediately. Fuck fuck fuck. Sum-80 curses herself internally, glaring a hole in the floor refusing to look up until the positive mother was brought.

She really wants to close her ears and eyes or run away, more preferably, when the woman screams endlessly as they abstract the serum from her child. She finds it hard to breathe when the screams finally stop, somehow forcing herself to lift her eyelids up to find out if the woman made it.

Her gaze finds the view in time for the machine to dump white clad woman on the floor.

“She is a strong one.” The commander speaks as the woman on the ground sobs in probably pain or the loss of life within her, it was hard to say.

“She won't make it.” An unfamiliar voice speaks, the woman from earlier speaking up as she eyed the sobbing lady with a blank face. The commander looks impressed as he signals the guard to get the woman on her feet.

“This is your new incharge.”

Her eyes shift back to the centre where the commander is speaking, gesturing towards the female.

“Meet, MA-13, the very first of her kind. The woman by me.” He says proudly as the female looks around herself with a sharp yet empty gaze.

MA-13, MA-13. MA-terh, ma-terh, matara? Wasn't that supposed to mean something like mother, she wasn't sure to be honest.

“She has been designed and trained to keep you all in check, no secrets, no more sneaking around, some of you complain about the guards so I made her but she has only one response to you breaking rules.” The commander trails off nodding to her, MA-13 nods back and before anyone can blink the mother who was being held by the guards dropped to the ground.

But no because they simply let her go, she had a slit throat, while MA-13 held onto a knife that had a blood covered blade. The woman didn't even blink as another female died in her feet but choking on her own blood thanks to her.

Sum-80 can feel the lack of breath passing through her as she witnessed the killing, so now on top of the guards that had no concept of limits, they had a woman looking over them who didn't even bat an eyelash before or after killing someone.

This place just got worse each day.

In all the years she has been here, Sum-80 has seen countless lives being lost before they even get a chance to live or breathe in this world. That was the main reason she kept the life inside her hidden away.

The last seeding showed her negative too but after a few days she started noticing changes in herself and before she could even think it through a bump was visible to her.

She was pregnant.

Today marked the completion of the fifth month and while she held back from ever lifting her robe or as much as letting it move in someone's presence the events she had just witnessed left her shaking and worried, the life inside her getting restless in response to her emotional turmoil.

She pulled back the robe to gently caress her growing belly, trying to comfort her child when she heard something and looked up, her hand immediately pulling her robe back as her eyes met a fellow negative mother. LYL-33. Shit.

—

This was the best decision of his life, did he lie about the whole love thing? Yes but he was sure Roxie knew that too.

Roxie. She was an interesting woman, fierce, trained in combat, steals for living which was a whole lot familiar. She reminds him of her. Mahavidya.

He remembers her face well enough, long black hair that shined with a brown hint when sunlight fell on it, the way she cursed him all the damn time and their stupid quarrels.

He has no idea why. That woman didn't even leave him anything in wake of her departure, only if he had managed to hand her over himself instead of being beaten unconscious by her.

But she was probably a hated memory, seeing that he remembers her so well, nothing more unlike a certain a.i. claimed.

Buiji and her nonsense theory of him and Roxie dating before she was so similar to Mahavidya because he and Roxie were a FLING not a genuine romance and that stupid bot knew it, she just liked to piss him off whenever a female was mentioned in life.

One day he will strangle that a.i.

“Bhairava!!”

He leaves his thoughts behind when Roxie calls his name, what was done was done and doesn't regret it one bit. Time for him to see his future home.

—

“Stop!!”

Sum-80 freezes in her place when MA-13's voice calls out, damn it damn it damn it did she get caught? She turned around only to find the woman walking past her to another woman making her breath in relief.

The anxiety makes her stomach churn making her decide to skip on the current meal. She heads for her bunk, lost in thoughts only to realise that there was already someone in her bed.

She screams when the man reaches for arm, backing away only for him to get a grip on her forearm, the struggle ends with him pushing her on the floor.

Thankfully she landed on her side but not so thankfully her robe fell to the side too, revealing her five months pregnant belly.

“What the-”

She didn't let him finish grabbing his gun he left on the bed and pointing it at him, her hands were shaking but she wasn't going to go down this easily.

“Please..” She begs when another figure enters her peripheral. She turns her gaze, the gun still pointed at the man as she recognizes the woman. LYL-33.

She feels a little relief, LYL-33 knew of her pregnancy and everyone knew she and the guard in front of them had a thing going on. Maybe she will understand?

“Help me..” Sum-80 hears her voice crack, barely above the whisper as the other woman approaches her.

“Hey it's okay, don't worry.” The female speaks softly as she kneels in front of her. “Here give this to me.” She adds and Sum-80 lets the gun slip for her hands.

Mistake on her part because the man snatches his weapon from LYL-33, who sighs one word as she stands beside him.

“Sorry.”

The guards are called in along with their new incharge who looks at her from head to toe before nodding to the men to take her to the cells of positive mothers, walking past her to the opposite direction, probably to go call the commander. At that point Sum-80 can only think of one thing.

Note self : There is no such thing as trust in hell she lives.

--------

tags : @mayakimayahai @warnermeadowsgirl @vijayasena @voidsteffy @jkdaddy01 @rambheem-is-real @allari-ammayi @mellaga-karagani @ulaganayagi @ahamasmiyodhah @ranisingnewyetagian @myvarya @toomanyfanficsbruh @harinishivaa @chaliyaaa @tumharisakhi

[enhypencores]

Enhypen: [Sunghoon X y/n]

Genre: Teen Romance/fluff

Prompt: Unrequited love can be an absolute misery especially if it’s first love. Y/N knows that all too well, but she can’t help herself falling for her classmate, the popular figure skater, Park Sunghoon. How do things play out when everyone mistakes her childhood best friend, Ma Ri to be in love with Sunghoon? Will this misunderstanding fuel the truth to the light?

My First Requited Love

“I want to keep liking him, so I won't confess."

The platform buzzed with students yelling and chattering about various things in their flashy cliques whilst waiting for the metro to arrive. The minutes were long and tiresome as the sun sat atop our heads, dispelling immense heat and draining the last bits of our energy.

It was yet another day. Ma Ri and I were using the metro this week since the car broke down again yesterday, and we had no means of transport. The metro zoomed past us in a flash and halted. The gates then swung open. The subway arrived empty with some leftover passengers; however, chaos ensued once the army of impatient and famished brats threw themselves into the carriages. It was no less than a battle, making it inside while holding onto your bag and dignity along the way.

"Why?" Ma Ri pouted, her frown deepening as she noticed my disagreement.

“Because it’s all gonna be over then,” I muttered against her ear, holding onto the pole for dear life as students poured inside, pushing past us. As the sea of shoulders and elbows shoved past her, Ma Ri circled her arms around the pole tighter.

“What’s gonna be over when you refuse to start anything?" She hissed louder than I liked, probably due to the human tug-of-war situation simultaneous to our heated discussion. I passed her a look of discomfort.

"If I tell him and he responds negatively, I will have no choice but to stop liking him,” I muttered, feeling my throat tighten, and she looked up at me with a wave of sadness in her eyes.

“Come on. You are stunning, bright, endearing and passionate. He will like you,” my friend detailed, and I giggled at her sweet compliments.

“If only men were as reasonable as women,” I remarked, and Ma Ri rolled her eyes.

“If he isn’t then you’re better off anyway. Come on y/n, what do you even like so much about that Park Sunghoon?” Her words triggered a flow of memories. What do I like about Park Sunghoon? It was a blur.

I wasn’t always head over heels in love with him. I didn’t even know his name until tenth grade when he became the class president. He was quite tall, so he was made to stand at the back during assembly lineups (tall tier), whereas my growth hormones had yet to sprout. I was always two students away from the front (short tier). I recalled a significant memory from our morning assembly when I turned to look for Ma Ri. The long line of students deflated my energy. Dispiritedly, I looked at the end of the queue where I saw him: the tallest one at the back, under the beaming sunlight, sand-brown eyes seeping into my skin. My cheeks grew warm. It was not the sun. It was Sunghoon.

Ma Ri found out about my crush and excitedly recommended I smuggled information from her older brother, Jake, Sunghoon's close friend from nursery.

Sunghoon was a promising student but more famously known as an athlete. He was a talented figure skater. His programmes were heavily publicised in our school, so I dragged my parents to watch one of his events conducted in Seoul's largest ice skating rink; they thought I wanted to become a skater myself and grew worried. I was the last person to choose a high-intensity sport as my career path, which was true, but I left them wondering.

Under the vast sky, Sunghoon shined brighter than the stars as he ran on ice like it were his very home. He glided and danced, making the world stop and stare. After the performance, I was dazed for quite a while.

Sunghoon was always in the spotlight, but he didn't seem to enjoy it. He kept to himself and only had a few chosen friends. People gravitated towards him, impressed by his charming smile; however, he only spent time with Jay from the other section. No one knew much about his private.

Soon my diary was filled with notes of his presence.

The problem arose when I realised we were graduating high school this year, which ultimately meant moving on. I was not ready to say goodbye to this man.

“God, one of us needs to get a cycle. The subway will trample me," Ma Ri’s grieved tone interrupted my train of thought, frowning at the bulky guy who stood behind her with his sweaty armpits in the air. I pulled her close. “Thirty-five kilometres on cycle?" Throwing a sarcastic glare, I prayed our station would magically arrive sooner.

Ma Ri and I decided to leave early in the morning, so the ride to school was a pleasing experience. We reached the school premises thirty minutes early and decided to get breakfast.

“Jake has been suspicious these days about my constant interest in Sunghoon," Ma Ri grumbled, and I almost spilt the can of iced tea.

“What did you say?” I gasped. It was a surprise Jake hadn’t caught onto the strange questioning already but knowing Jake, he probably didn’t care enough to wonder.

“I just told him I wish to get into figure skating, and Sunghoon is my role model,” Ma Ri muttered defeatedly, and I couldn’t control my laughter. Ma Ri and I were the least likely to participate in sports.

“Laugh all you want. It won’t be funny when I tell him what’s really up,” she threatened with a smirk.

My laughter died down immediately. “You won’t dare!” I yelled.

From the corner of my eyes, I noticed two tall men entering the cafeteria. My heart palpitated, noticing his familiar dark hair. Sunghoon walked inside, his shirt neatly buttoned and blazer resting at the back of his shoulder, hanging on by a finger. He chuckled at something his friend Jay said, then his gaze wandered and found mine.

His eyes grew a little as he registered my presence. My heart dropped low into my stomach, his gaze making every hair on my body stand. The words flowing out of Ma Ri’s mouth grew foreign as I tuned out every other stimulus except him. He gazed at us for a moment before approaching the counter.

“Two chicken sandwiches and a lemon iced tea.” His morning voice was brittle, liberating ecstatic butterflies in my stomach. The iced tea suddenly had more meaning. I held it closer to my chest and chugged it down.

“You’re so ridiculous,” Ma Ri’s shrill voice interrupted my hurling emotions, and I sat up attentively.

“Shut it.” I glanced up, only to find him seated on the table before us. He sat, facing me, and his friend had his back to us. I suddenly felt cautious and looked away, fidgeting with the empty can.

“Why’s he here early?” I mumbled, trying to find an excuse to not meet his gaze again.

Ma Ri tugged at her lower lip. “I’m not sure. Maybe he has practice?” She replied hesitantly.

Then another guy came jogging inside. I looked up, and my jaw almost dropped. “Ma Ri…” I drawled, and she curiously looked behind.

Her eyes grew double their size.

Jake in our campus?

Ma Ri and I exchanged a confused frown.

“Sunghoon, I’m here, mate,” Jake announced excitedly, and Sunghoon expectantly stood up to hug the blonde man.

“You’ve got some nerve showing up half an hour late with that stupid smile,” Sunghoon glared, and his pink lips tugged into a charming smile.

“Bro, I ran from school to take the metro," he claimed. His loose tie, undone laces and messy hair were proof of his insistence.

“Jake, what’re you doing here?” I didn’t realise when Ma Ri had thrown back her chair and walked up to Jake pointedly. His eyes seemed to lighten up as he noticed his sister.

“Thank god you are here. I thought I’d have to search the entire campus. Oh, hi, y/n,” Jake greeted, his kind smile growing wider. “Thank you for accompanying Ma Ri at the metro." He rubbed the back of his neck, grinning my way.

I quickly got up, matching Ma Ri’s steps. "Oh, not a problem. I have to take the metro anyways since the car is acting up," I responded. I noticed Sunghoon and Jay pass each other a look before they looked back at us blankly.

“Jake, you haven’t answered. Why’re you at my school?" Ma Ri questioned, her brows furrowing with curiosity.

"To introduce the two of you," Jake chimed and motioned his hands towards Sunghoon and Ma Ri. "She has many questions about your lifestyle because she suddenly wishes to get into figure skating even though I have never seen an ounce of athleticism from her. I don’t know why she can't just approach you, but assuming she feels threatened by your popularity, I humbly request you to please befriend her.”

Silence.

The next few moments were the slowest moments of my life. I felt the thunderous waves of fury radiating from Ma Ri. Sunghoon stared at the siblings dumbfounded while the third friend, Jay, laughed like a maniac. The humiliation of the encounter struck hard as Ma Ri almost tumbled Jake to the ground, and his screams reverberated throughout the cafeteria. I attempted to pull Ma Ri off as Sunghoon rushed to help up a traumatised Jake.

“You’re dead meat when I get home!” Ma Ri rattled, and Jake almost punched her in the face.

“You like him so just tell him and stop bothering me! Sunghoon this Sunghoon that- he will give you all your answers!” Jake, the smug bastard, gave her a tangy smile whilst Ma Ri swore to rip his head off.

“Excuse us,” I quickly spat and hurriedly pulled Ma Ri out of the cafeteria after a million more insults were thrown both ways.

“Do you believe this guy is my brother? He’s so stupid! I can’t believe he said that shit right in front of Sunghoon,” Ma Ri sprang to fight, but I held her down, hugging her chest.

“Stop!” I yelped, holding onto her. When she finally calmed down, I let go and sat her down on the bench next to the water cooler.

Both of us remained quiet for a while. Tension seized my chest as I tried to ease my frantic thoughts. Jake’s words lingered in my head. I tried to imagine Sunghoon’s reaction. For now, he seemed taken aback. What if he believed those words and assumed Ma Ri liked him? Would he like her back?

It took me months to even look him in the eyes. When we passed by in the hallway, those bashful glances felt like they would appease me for a lifetime. At the moment, though, I imagined him thinking of my friend, and my chest tightened. Those glances could not possibly last me a lifetime.

"He won't think of me that way. I will explain it to him," Ma Ri mumbled, her eyes drenched with guilt. I felt my eyes burn. Ma Ri was stunning, uplifting and passionate. If Sunghoon didn't like her, he would be a fool.

“Ma Ri.” I wrapped my hands around hers, and my throat tightened as tears marred my vision.

"You don’t need to clarify anything."

Maybe this was a wake-up call. I had believed one day I would have enough courage to meet his eyes and confess my heart, but I never could. Sunghoon would always only be a name in my diary.

“Y/n…”

I smiled tightly and rubbed my palm against hers reassuringly.

"It doesn’t matter, Ma Ri."

I got up quickly, blinking away the tears, and Ma Ri followed suit, frowning deeply with a hesitant glance. Just then, the trio walked out of the cafeteria. Habitually, my eyes found him before anyone. Sunghoon had a strange look on his face, his lips downturned and gaze distracted. He almost looked angry.

When he noticed us, he paused. I expected him to look for Ma Ri, but his gaze spotted me like the north of a compass. I felt a weird surge of emotions in my chest like blusterous waves crashing against the shore.

I forced myself to look away. Jake carried a sour expression, his smile tight, and I deliberated whether to feel curious about their secret discussion. Jay, the only normal one, waddled beside them, running fingers through his slick hair as he stared at us with a suspicious smirk.

"Time for class," I squealed, a little too excitedly and ran away with Ma Ri chasing behind.

My day was spent overthinking. The lectures went over my head because of the morning affair, not to mention the stares passed my way from Sunghoon. He was two rows away, but I felt his presence overwhelm my cognition. I didn’t understand why he kept looking my way when Jake had seemingly exposed Ma Ri and not me.

Ma Ri also spent half the day passing sweet smiles. I felt a tinge of guilt for getting her involved in this mess, so I smiled back brightly and hoped she would forgive me. She attempted to talk about the issue and even brought up confessing to Sunghoon, but I shut her requests down.

Truth be told, I was afraid. If Sunghoon believed Ma Ri liked him, he might compare me with my best friend. I wasn't exceptionally pretty like Ma Ri. They probably complemented each other better. I would rather never be an option to begin with than become a source of discomfort.

By the end of the day, I was mentally drained. I grabbed my bag and pushed against the door to look around for Ma Ri. She had left for the locker room to get her novel. I waited for a couple of minutes and then decided to find her. I walked down the hallway and pushed the door open.

I froze against the open door. My lips parted as if to speak, but I couldn’t even feel myself breathing. The strange tension in my chest seemed to unwind, and my heart plummeted like a sinking ship. Ma Ri stood against her locker, gazing up at Sunghoon.

As a wide-eyed Ma Ri noticed my intrusion, she quickly called out to me. Sunghoon turned in a flash with furrowed brows. His gaze tensed, and he stepped away, his eyes burning into my soul. He opened his mouth to say something but decided against it.

Seeing the taller two gazing at one another felt like they were out of a rom-com. They were the picture-perfect couple. My world was discombobulating. If I stayed there any longer, I would bawl right before them.

"I’ll go alone today.”

I turned on my heel and dashed away.

I heard my name. It wasn't Ma Ri. It was Sunghoon's gravelly voice calling out to me. I heard a slight commotion, but my emotions drove me farther from the two. I didn't want assurance or sympathy. I wanted to get myself together before my heart really broke.

I didn’t stop even after I safely made it out of the school’s premises. My body craved insurgence, breaking out of its cage to run till I felt the anxiety break off like autumn leaves. I ran downtown and stopped once I was standing at the metro station. Students were scattered around in groups, awaiting the subway.

I heaved as I leaned against a magazine stall, desperately gulping down air. Closing my eyes, I felt my head throb with tension. I smoothed my fingers against my temple. Soon the wind felt cool against my skin. A few moments flaunted by when the sudden zoom of the subway boomed inside the premises. Alert, I stood upright and rushed to step closer to the door.

The students beside me were more passionate. A few shoves drove me back, and I pressed my lips tight unimpressed. As the doors opened wide, bunch of students jumped inside, along with some feistier ones from behind me. I clutched onto my bag and trudged forward, hoping I wouldn’t get pushed back by the sea of men.

I managed to land inside, but the next challenge was to find balance and avoid tall men. It proved harder than I expected as I was sandwiched between a bulky man with his back against my chest and the other end of the train. I couldn’t breathe, let alone stand. I tried pushing him forward, but that only triggered the traffic to lean back. I felt like I’d get trampled.

The wind was knocked out of me when suddenly someone grabbed my wrist and yanked me to the far right, towards a pole. I gasped as the person pressed flat against my back heaved, and the rumbles vibrated against my frame. I was ready to scream murder at this stranger when I jerked around.

My jaw dropped.

Park Sunghoon?

Every cell in my body seemed to grow cold. The world shifted, and my vision grew hazy. Why was Sunghoon here?

He gave me a stern look and then a slight nod as if reassuring me of his presence. I felt my heartbeat escalate, so I turned back around, facing the pole. Through the mirrored windows, I inspected his features. He was heaving against my frame, so he probably ran like a lunatic to catch up to me. His tie was limp around the neck, and his hair was a mess with sweat dripping down the strands like water droplets. His eyes were cold like ice. I had only seen them shine on the rink.

He caught my gaze, and something in his orbs flicked. He suddenly shifted closer. He grabbed my hand, and I almost winced at the sudden warmth of his skin. He secured mine on the pole with his fingers lingering. The chill of the metal and the contrasting warmth of his fingers made me think this was an illusion.

He protectively guided the other arm around me so no elbows brushed my arm. He inspected my surroundings, and when he felt at ease, he sighed deeply against my neck.

I shivered inwardly.

“You’re not riding this alone again,” he spat with a quirked brow.

I gulped and nodded reluctantly.

“Why’re you here?” I asked, and he pretended to hear nothing, avoiding my eyes.

“Sunghoon.” I frowned.

His eyes met mine instantly. His lips twisted into a lopsided smile. “You don’t call me by my name often,”

“What do I call you?” I mumbled, pondering upon his words.

“Class rep. It got annoying after grade ten.”

I turned around at light’s speed, catching him off guard. His playful smile dropped, and he quickly edged closer, drawing his arms around my waist, leaving no space for bystanders. I stared, trying to figure him out.

“Did you even know my name back then?” I mumbled into his chest as he was way taller.

His lips tightened, and he stared at me with a strange intensity. Then he widened the space occupied by his legs, covering my body with his and brushed a strand of hair from my eyes.

“I’ve known your name since you arrived at my class.”

What?

My lips parted in disbelief. He surveyed my bewildered expression and chuckled like he had just told me a silly pun.

When I arrived at his class.

So… when we were in middle school?

Grade 8.

A station arrived, and Sunghoon grabbed my hand. The doors flew open and as some people started exiting, Sunghoon pulled me along.

“This isn’t my-”

“I know.” He shrugged, dragging me through the unknown station.

My surroundings were a blur since my brain had stopped working. He knew my name in grade eight. He had noticed me when I wouldn’t have been able to point out if this guy was even a student in my class.

What did any of this mean?

Why was my heart fluttering like I was cascading down a cloud nine?

We ran through the alley, climbed stairs, and then headed out into the sunshine. I thought he’d finally settle down and explain the chaos; however, Sunghoon released a short breath, his gaze wandering from left to right. Deciding which path to take, he ran left while holding onto my arm. I tried matching his speed, but my legs weren’t as long. My steps faltered, struggling to keep up.

He noticed my struggle, and his strides shortened. Soon he had slowed down completely, downgrading to a walk.

I sighed in relief, slowing my pace with him. I was currently panting, fanning my red face to cool down. It was embarrassing because even though we had run the same distance, Sunghoon was breathing just fine whilst onlookers might mistake my gasps for running a marathon.

Sunghoon’s chuckle was fuel to fire, and I withheld the urge to roll my eyes. “Everyone isn't blessed with long legs,” I gritted every syllable.

An innocent smile deluded his lips as he twisted the ring on his index finger with his thumb. “I know. You were always at the front during assembly,” he reminisced.

“And you were always at the back,” I added.

He looked up, stopping in his tracks. His playful smile had dropped. His eyes carried a glint of longing like he was lost in a haze. Vrooms and beeps surrounding us dulled as I felt my heart thump hard. He edged close, his breathing heavy.

“That distance irritated me.”

It was barely a whisper, yet I heard him as clearly as the beating of my heart. Despite my widened eyes, parted lips and taut frame, he still decided to step closer. His arm circled my waist, pulling me into him, and he rested his forehead against mine. The scent of clean soap morphed with a luxurious cologne overpowered my senses, and it took me a minute to register our close proximity. The contact invoked a deep fire in my abdomen, and my heart thudded so hard against my chest that I was sure he could hear the rumbles.

“I want to make it clear. I was with Ma Ri to tell her I like you.” He sucked in a breath. “I couldn’t tell you in grade nine, ten or eleven. I couldn’t have told you now either if I didn’t find out about Jake’s crush on you,” he rasped, screwing his eyes shut in frustration.

My world was spinning.

Park Sunghoon had a crush on me back in middle school? Wait, he has a crush on me. My heart was pounding to the extent I feared it would tear out of my chest and land in his palms.

Wait… Jake?

My lips parted in confusion.

 Sunghoon spoke up again. “When Jake told me, it was like the world screaming at me to get it together and hold onto you,” his ragged breaths fell against my mouth, making my insides quiver. "Jay told me girls like leaders, so I became the class president. I advertised my ice skating events at school to catch your attention and didn't sleep all night after seeing you in the audience. I even dragged Jay to the library because you liked spending lunchtime there. When I discovered Jake's sister was your friend, I visited him more often for soccer despite my hatred for the sport- hoping to catch a glimpse of you. On our trip to Icheon, I noticed your obsession with red velvet cakes, so I got one for your birthday last year only to share it with my sister. You drink iced tea, so I started to get it myself. It used to taste bitter, but I can’t start my day without it anymore."

My heart was in my throat, my mouth agape as I registered his words and their meanings. It was true; I noticed Sunghoon after he became class president. Ice skating adverts were posted on the school noticeboard, and knowing that he was a participant encouraged me to go. I once visited Ma Ri's place at the weekend to learn how to crotchet where I encountered Sunghoon in the kitchen, getting juice for himself. I had instantly thought of it as fate and began visiting her place more often for numerous excuses. I did love red velvet cakes and iced tea. The fact that Sunghoon knew simple details about me made my heart relish and throb. My eyes stung. The one person I liked throughout school and college was confessing to me. I had thought of him as an unrequited love, but we were always in harmony. My feet quivered as I brought my hands to cup his jaw. His gaze widened at the soft contact.

"I would beg Ma Ri to ask Jake for your favourite colour, hobbies and future career options, which made him think Ma Ri liked you," I confessed, and his eyes widened in disbelief.

"I bought my first skating gear last year, wishing someday to wear them by your side. You were textbook smart, so I got Ma Ri to tutor me before grade ten exams because I didn't want to look stupid, ranking in the lower tier. I know you like macrons, so I baked them for your birthday last year and intentionally left them at Ma Ri's because Jake had planned a birthday party for you, which meant you would definitely try them."

With every word passing my mouth, his face grew hotter and his eyes wider. He was visibly baffled, just like me. He parted his lips and shut them, feeling at a loss for words. The silence cradled my heart and ate at my insides. Then something in his gaze flicked; the shock had subsided, replaced with a dark, rapturous fire.

Suddenly, he was tugging me into his embrace, his nose rubbing against mine like we were one. His tall frame towered mine as he stared into my eyes, then my lips like a starved beast finally eyeing its first bite. The world around me melted when his red lips finally captured mine, and he released a short breath of relief. His lips were smooth, like candy floss, but not as overly sweet. He pecked mine gently at first, but then a frustrated groan escaped his mouth, and he sucked my lips into his, parting them to kiss deeper. His scent and taste drove my senses haywire, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling my knees fall weak. 

Amid the kiss, a smile aligned his lips, and I parted, feeling my head in the clouds. "You liked me in grade ten?" His words were hushed as if saying them aloud might make them untrue. I bashfully looked away.

"By the way, you make amazing macrons," he mumbled, and my heart felt so full, I dreaded it would burst. He placed his hand under my chin and brought it up to meet his eyes. A warm breath escaped him as if he had been holding it in forever, maybe since the day he liked me, and he covered his mouth with mine desperately.

The kiss told me this was the beginning of something beautiful, my first requited love.

When I reached home, many messages awaited me.

Maria<3

Thus proved: my best friend can never have an unrequited love story because she is the most gorgeous person ever.

PS: don’t worry about Jake. He will get over it when he sees you thriving with Sunghoon. <33

PS 2: please tell Sunghoon I don’t like him. he chased after you before I could explain anything :/

PS 3:  if he makes you cry, I will hurt his entire family.

[can-they-assemble-ikea-furniture]

General Info + Submission Guidelines

This is an almost exclusively submission based blog, so feel free to submit your characters. Just send an ask in. I'll put polls into the queue in the order they are received, and they'll run for a week once up. Make sure to include the fandom they are from. You may submit propaganda, and it will be included in the poll under a readmore. Celebrities may be submitted.

Answer polls assuming they have access to ikea furniture to attempt assembling

3 polls are posted per day

Polls in queue(Updated Aug 1): 12 (+336 inbox*)

*the number for the inbox is the number of asks remaining, and may be more or less than the number of characters

Tags

Polls will be tagged with the fandom and character name. I usually use the names as submitted, and possibly popular relevant tumblr tags. If it is a real person, it will be tagged with their name, #real life, and sometimes their profession(s) (actor, musician, wrestler, etc)

If the image used was submitted with the ask, it will be tagged #image from submitter

Polls are tagged with the date submitted, formatted as the 3-letter English abbreviation of the month and the day (e.g. #Apr 29). Keep in mind this may be a day off due to timezone differences

Non-polls are rare, but will be tagged #not a poll (excluding the original version of this post)

Polls about blog policy(e.g. the "should I include pictures?" poll) will be tagged #blog policy poll

Frequently Asked* Questions

*or occasionally asked/mentioned in tags. or perhaps I'm just giving you the information and no one has ever once asked this

[Character] has a lot of different portrayals/renditions. Which one does the poll refer to?

Unless the post specifies one in particular, I don't have any more clue than you do. If the submission specifies, I put it in the post. The rendition a picture is from is not intended to indicate a specific source.

What level of specificity is allowed?

You may be as specific or unspecific as you like with your character submission. Both "Link from The Legend of Zelda series" and "Castiel from Supernatural, specifically in S05E08 'Changing Channels'" would be allowed. That being said, I reserve the right to not publish excessive variations of the same character (e.g. if you submit Castiel separately for every episode of supernatural, I will not be posting all of those).

What do you mean by "assemble it well"?

You may interpret this however you like, but I would define it as getting furniture assembled such that it stays together, and deviations from the instructions are either intended or insignificant. I would not count mental distress as not going well (for the purpose of answering this question), with the exception of cases where the mental distress leads to it being disassembled, unfinished, or otherwise destroyed.

Will my username be publicized?

For submissions, no. For other asks, probably. Anon is on if you wish to use it.

What is the ideal format for submissions?

Submit through asks. The exact formatting doesn't matter much, but the format of "[character] from [media]" including proper capitalization (e.g. Link from Legend of Zelda), with additional content on other lines is slightly easier to copy-paste.

Should I submit multiple characters as separate asks?

Up to 3 characters in one ask is fine. More than that, please split the asks. If you want to submit each as a separate ask, that's equally fine. If submitting multiple characters from the same media, it's fine to either list them and say "all from [media]" or list them all as "[character] from [media]".

How are the pictures used obtained?

Generally from fan wikis, or wikipedia. If a picture is submitted with the ask, I will use that, and tag the post #image from submitter

Why is this picture of the wrong character/why was an inapplicable tag used?

Due this being a submission-based blog, I am not personally familiar with all characters on here. If something is improperly tagged, the image is of the wrong character, etc, notify me if you want me to fix it.

What's the policy on re-polls?

This is one of the questions no one has ever once asked! As such, I do not have a policy on re-polls for polls that don't have a significant error. If a poll has a significant error(something that disrupts its ability to be answered, such as polls that only run for a day rather than a week, or don't have the answers set up correctly), notify me and I'll put out a corrected version as soon as I can.

Is there a way to jump ahead of the poll queue?

Be me. Or submit a character I decide I really want that answered about. This hasn't happened yet, but I reserve the right to post polls out of order, although if I do they'll be in addition to the regularly scheduled polls. If it is a user submission, I'll only post it out of order within 4 days of the original submission, so you don't have to worry about whether or not it will be posted at a random time for months(although there's always the chance someone else submitted them before you).

[seenoversundown]

Sparrow Of the Dawn : Chapter 4

Sam Kiszka x Willa (Female OC) Warnings: Teasing (in the making fun of each other way), dark humor, subtle pining, cursing, mentions of drinking/alcohol, and a lot of clumsy girl behavior.

Word Count: 7.6k

Summary : Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor.

Author's Note: Just wanted to take a second to leave some resources in regards to learning about and assisting those affected by the genocide in Palestine. There aren’t words strong enough to convey how devastating the loss is. I will leave a few resources I have found linked and always remember that we’re not free until Palestine is free. #Ceasefire #FreePalestine 🇵🇸

• Six Ways To Help

• Carrd Full of helpful Links and Resources

• Daily Click!

Gives You Hell - All American Rejects “When you see my face, hope it gives you hell, gives you hell.”

I feel like I could fight God when my alarm clock goes off in the morning and my first thought is that I'll have to see Sam all day. Oh, great ruler of the Cosmos, please grant me the strength to get through this day. So mote it be. 

 I slither out of bed like the morning gremlin I am, pull on my robe, and head out to the kitchen, where I know Quinn is already waiting. 

Quinn and I developed this cute morning routine back in college, where we met. We attended SCAD together and were lucky enough that we got along so well, both being art majors. Them in Art History and me in Photography. We used to cross the campus early enough to beat the lines, almost regretfully. We’re not exactly the greatest of morning people. I’d get the drinks, though, and they get the food. Only back then, it was just them assembling the breakfast sandwiches in the cafeteria while I tried to make the instant coffee drinkable. These days, it’s homemade lattes and skillfully grilled sandwiches. A vast improvement from our younger days. 

“Good morning, Willard,” They beam at me through heavily hooded eyes, already pulling out a pan.

“Morning,” comes out of my mouth in a choppy groan.

“Breakfast sammies?” They wiggle the pan a little. 

“Don’t!” I hold up my finger, “That is a banned word in this house.” I sit down on one of the stools at our island and place my head in my hands. 

“Breakfast?” they inquire. 

“No, Sammy.”

“Okayyyy.. Do you want a breakfast ‘he-who-shall-not-be-named?” they let out a chuckle. 

“HA HA, very funny,” I roll my eyes, “- but yes, please.” 

I make my way to the espresso machine, grabbing the portafilter and grinding up some fresh beans. I tamp down the grinds and place them back in their rightful spot before pressing the button to queue up the process. Repeating for Quinn’s second shot. Quinn is the complete opposite of basic in every aspect except their coffee order. A Vanilla Oat Milk latte, every time. I make it with extra love because that’s how it should be made. I quickly move on to my latte, only slightly adjacent to basic with toasted marshmallow flavoring instead. 

Finishing at roughly the same time we trade specialties and they say “Okay, all wrapped and ready to go when you are.”

“No, I have the time to sit and eat with you Quinny the Pooh, so that’s what I’m going to do.” I smile and make my way to the island in our kitchen. I prop up on my same stool and unwrap my sandwich. God, this looks good. If they weren’t an art teacher, they could hack it as a chef. 

Taking the first bite and rolling my eyes in the back of my head, “Good GOD, Quinn, you have outdone yourself again.”

“Thank you, Thank you. So tell me, how prepared are you to see Childish Sambino today?”

The glare I send them over my sandwich is deadly. “Do you have to talk about him?”

“We could talk about his mouth instead,” sending me a sideways glance. 

“Oh, would you look at that,” I glance down at my bare wrist as if it contained the most interesting watch. “I’m actually running late. I need to get ready for work.” I set my sandwich back down on the paper and rewrap it to take it to go. 

“Have a good day. Make good choices because we just paid rent and I don’t have bail money,” They laugh maniacally. I send them a snarky glare back before shutting my bedroom door behind me. 

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When I make it to the Portland Press Herald office, I open the door, and I’m greeted with the sweet face of an older woman working the desk. Thank god it’s not another Daisy. I’d rather jump off the building than have to watch Sam flirt with another girl all day. 

She leads me through the hallways until we reach a set of cubicles in the back corner.

 “Alright, this one is yours,” She points to the closest cubicle. “And this one,” she points to the cubicle diagonally across from it. “Is Samuel’s. I’ll send him over when he gets here and you can point it out to him if he gets lost.” Well, at least I won’t have to look directly at him. 

I start unloading my belongings onto my new desk and trying to arrange them perfectly. When Sam makes his appearance, he rounds the corner looking so good it's painful. The slim, dark blue slacks on his legs just hit the tops of his black Chelsea boots. A mixed red and blue sweater makes home on his chest, don’t think about his chest, with a navy linen winter jacket over top. God, he looks good. Annoying. No man my age looks like that let alone knows how to actually dress themselves. 

When I come to my senses, he’s standing expectantly next to my desk. Looking at me like he’s waiting for my reply to a question I haven’t heard him ask. Not willing to give in and appear like I’ve just been thinking about how hot this man I hate is, I dodge. 

I point to the clock reading 7:58 am, “Cutting it a little close, huh, Sammy boy.”

“It might not have been so close if you were sitting here staring at me like I’m a piece of meat.” He chides. Internally, I cringe. Yep, I was definitely not subtle. “I had car troubles,” He mumbles in a low tone, “Can you just show me which desk I’m supposed to sit at.” I wave my arm over toward his desk, and he walks away to get settled in his own space. Far away from me.. Well, okay, it's not that far, but it's far enough for me. 

He’s in a monumentally bad mood this morning, and after a while the sighs of frustration he's letting out start to tick me off. Who breathes that loudly on a normal day? We’re stuck inside the building researching things until we have an event or idea to even photograph, which is bad enough without the sound of his mouth. I just hope we can get it together sooner rather than later. The faster we find a subject matter, the more time we have to capture it. I hear another loud sigh. 

“Could you be any louder, Sam? All I can hear is your huffing?” I stand to get him in my eyeline over the divider. Big mistake. He’s wearing glasses now? I didn’t know he wore glasses. It should be illegal, to be honest, for him to look that good. 

“I’m just existing, Willa. Sorry that my existence annoys you.” He pauses, “Actually, I’m not sorry at all. I take great pleasure in the fact that my mere presence sends you into a fit of rage.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with a cocky smile. 

  Oh dear god, I definitely didn't prepare for this, this morning.

“This is not a fit of rage.” I sit back down calmly. Nope, not entertaining this today.

After a few minutes, it’s Sam’s turn to stand. If I lift my head, then I have to talk to him, so I stare at my computer screen where I’m currently researching different parks in the area. He clears his throat, and I don’t move. I will not be beckoned by his antics. He clears his throat louder this time. 

“Yes, Samuel.” I finally stop and clasp my hands together, annoyed.

“When did that cafe open up? The new down the road?”

“A couple months ago. Why? Are you going to buy me a coffee to make up for annoying me this morning?” A pleasantly sarcastic smile makes its way to my lips.

“HAH, you wish. No, I thought it could be something to check out for the project.”

“I would hardly call that cafe something that is notable about Maine. It just opened.” 

Clearly offended, he states, “Alright, let’s hear your big idea then?”

Sighing heavily, “I know I opened the dialogue here with you Sam, but I’ve suddenly realized that I am far too under-caffeinated to continue to be annoyed by you.”

“Well,” he laughs a little, adding fuel to the fire that is my irritation, “Aren’t you just a breath of vile air this morning.” he snarks.

“I might be more pleasant if your voice wasn’t so grating.” I shoot back. If tension were a physical entity in this moment, someone would be slicing it like a block of cheese being prepped for a charcuterie board. My stomach grumbles slightly. Oh, I am not going to let this man ruin charcuterie boards for me just because I am hangry. 

“Shhhh,” someone a few isles extends their distaste for our conversation. 

“See, look at what you’ve done.” 

“Oh, what I’ve done. I didn’t realize I was talking to myself here.” He defends.

I sit back down in a huff. I cannot believe I have to spend the next few days with this man. A fact that makes it very hard not to get increasingly frustrated by the task at hand. It's March, there’s not a whole lot going on in the city and instead of a partner who is easy to collaborate with, I'm stuck with him. 

Just as I get ready to do more digging, I get an email. 

Samuel F. Kiszka shared a document with you.

I wonder what the F stands for. I click the link. Compelled by my own nonsense, I sing in my head ‘Wheezy F baby and the F is for front door.’  

The document is titled ‘Ideas’ and a singular sentence is typed.

Since you can’t stand the sound of my voice and we can’t talk without getting heavily shushed by Susan B. NoseyPants, does this work?

Why is this simultaneously endearing and aggravating? Because yes, yes, it does work.

We take the time over what feels like a few hours bouncing ideas back and forth, and nothing seems to land with either of us. 

Sam: Museums, theaters, ect, ect we even have Funtown for the kids?

Me: You want to lead with Funtown? Palace Playland is better AND by the beach even? If you don’t believe in it, neither will the people at the newspaper.

Sam: I’m not even going to entertain that argument because Palace Playland is definitely NOT better. Have you ever been on the Excalibur?

We both stare at the document, watching the line blink on the screen when the banter is no longer fun. He stands suddenly. “I’m hungry.” He states plainly. “It's almost lunchtime.”

“Astute observation, Samuel. Should we promote you to Captain Obvious?”

“You’re actually the funniest person I’ve ever met, you know. No. I know a place, you and I are going to go get lunch.” He puts on his coat and grabs his bag walking over to my side of the desks. 

“We are? When did I agree to that?” skepticism heavy in my tone.

“Just now.” The manner in which he speaks matter-of-factly almost has me giving in instantly. Almost. “We need to get out of these little satanic cubes of torture and do some brainstorming. But we need brain food. I’m hungry. You’re hungry. We’re going, but you have to drive.”

“How do you know I’m hungry?”

“I’ve heard your stomach growling for over an hour.”

“Fine.” I concede. “But you’re paying.” I grab my heavy cardigan, slipping it on, and then grabbing my purse.

“That’s the spirit.” He says jovially, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I try not to think too hard about the grip he has on me as we make our way downstairs.

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The atmosphere of the restaurant he picked, “La Fromage”, is almost a bit uppity. How stuck up can you really be if you name your restaurant literally just ‘the cheese’. The lighting is low, even for the daytime, despite the two main windows in the front. The antique sconces create a nice, warm ambiance. It's a small room with bar seating and a few booths, which is where we take up residence right next to one of the windows. We’re tucked away in the corner but not too close to the front door. I slide into the booth against the wall while Sam takes the chair nearest to the walkway. 

“This place looks nice. I’ve never heard of it before. How’d you find it?” I’d be a fool to think he hasn't taken a girl here on a date before. He's young and attractive. A fact I would never admit out loud because it would just inflate his already massive ego. I’m sure he doesn’t have a problem dating, something I clearly can’t relate to. He did seem to hit it off with Daisy. I imagine this place in the evening; with the street lights coming in through the windows mixing with the amber lighting, it definitely sets a romantic tone. Much different than the tone of an afternoon in the middle of a work week. It would be lovely to come here on a date instead of a bar.

“They have a location in Boston, not far from where I went to school. I heard they opened a location up here not too long ago, but I haven’t come by yet. This seemed like the perfect opportunity.” He picks up the menu, giving it a once over before settling on the alcoholic portion. So he hasn’t been here on a date.. Yet. Ugh. Stop it. “You should get a glass of wine or something.” Not bothering to glance up at me. 

“I’m driving, Sam,” I state plainly. 

“If one glass of wine gets you drunk enough to not be able to drive you have other things to worry about,” he looks almost concerned for a moment before his face completely shifts. “Is that why you spilled your drink all over your date the other night?”

God, must I relive this? Why is he bringing it up? As if he has no idea it was his fault. “Sam, you snuck up behind me and scared me half to death. I jumped, it tipped. That’s it.” 

“If that’s your story.” The Cheshire cat smile painted on his lips looks almost good enough to smack. With my hand. Definitely my hand. 

I’m about to make a case for myself when the waiter approaches. 

“Afternoon, I’m Hunter. I'll be taking care of you today.” He looks over at me and winks. .. okay??? “Can I start you off with something to drink?”

Sam answers before my mouth even opens. “We’ll have two glasses of the 19 crimes red, please.” Why is he ordering for me? Hunter glances over at me like he’s trying to get a read on me. I realize then that my mouth is hung open slightly in disbelief. 

“Is that okay with you?” Hunter asks me. Sam scoffs. 

“Uh yes, yes, that’s fine.” I gain my composure and continue. “I’ll just also have a glass of water with no lemon, please. Thank you.” And with that, he turns and walks away. I don’t say anything. I just stare at Sam. He’s still gazing at his menu, brow furrowed a bit like he's mulling through his choices and can’t figure out what sounds good.

“19 crimes.” I chime. “Sounds devious. Did you commit all 19 by yourself? Or are you trying to drag me with you now?” 

He laughs. “You know you have to look at the menu in order to find something to eat, Willa.” The sound of my name on his tongue is jarring. Again, he’s not looking at me. I take his advice hastily grabbing my menu, peering at him over the top. There’s a smirk on his face. What is his deal? 

Hunter appears with our wine and my water with a lemon. Not wanting to create a fuss over a lemon I can very easily remove, I just say thank you when he sets it down on the oakwood table. 

“She asked for water without a lemon,” Sam’s face is serious; I sit there, horrified at the inconvenience to the waiter.  

“Oh, it's fine, really. Don’t-” he cuts my protest short, and I fidget, tucking my hair behind my ears.

“You asked for water with no lemon, Willa. This isn’t what you asked for.” Hunter takes the glass from his hand. When he turns and heads toward the kitchen, I whisper, “You didn’t have to do that, Sam. It’s not a big deal. Plus, that was kind of rude.”

“It’s not rude to expect to get what you asked for. You wanted water with no lemon, so you’ll get water with no lemon.” He says with finality. Why is that… attractive? I think he mistakes my stare as distaste for his commentary and quickly follows it up with, “If it makes you feel better, I’ll make sure to tip him well.” He shrugs a little.

I exhale heavily through my nose and change the subject, “What are you gonna get to eat?”

“The Gnocchi alla Sorrentini. What about you?”

“I was thinking of the Saffron Risotto aux Champignons. Have you tried it?” My mind drifts back to how many times he’s probably been to the other location and with whom. Wondering how many of these dishes he’s tried or if the menu is different there. How many glasses of wine he’s had or shared. 

“I have. It’s my favorite dish here. It’s very good,” When he flashes me a small, slightly lopsided smile, my heart squeezes in my chest. “I think you’ll like it.” 

We place our orders when Hunter comes back with my corrected water. He doesn’t make eye contact with Sam, but Sam looks directly at him when he tells him what he wants. There’s an obvious confidence about him that I like and something under the surface that feels almost like a challenge. Daring Hunter to look at him to know he has the upper hand on.. what, I can't figure out. Is this just some weird macho alpha male thing? I feel like one of them might start peeing on the floor to mark their territory in a minute. 

I tell Hunter my order and then switch my gaze to the window. Something I’ve always loved about Maine is the water. Across the street, back behind the sidewalk, is a relatively short dock. You can walk down it and see some of the boats lined up. There aren’t many since the area is narrow, but you can see out toward the river. Sometimes, you can see people in smaller fast boats; other times, it's the larger fishing boats. I once took a walk down that dock with an out-of-town friend of mine, and there was a lone man on his fishing boat throwing some lobsters back into the river. He offered to let us hold one for a photo which absolutely tickled my friend pink.

Hunter brings our food out and disappears without any other commentary. I’m not sure I could handle another moment of ‘big men puff out chest be intimidating’ behavior. I take a bite of the risotto, which tastes as good as it looks. God, I’m going to have to take Quinn here. They'd absolutely love it.

My thoughts are interrupted when a bird perched on the ledge just at the edge of the window catches my eye. And suddenly..

“Sam.” My eyes were fixated on the bird. He hums. “Do you .. hike?” Unsure if he’s an outdoorsy kind of guy, given how well he dresses himself.

“Yeah, all the time, why?”

“Maine is the pine tree state.” He sends me another mhm, not fully following my thought, “You know what one of my favorite things to shoot on hikes is?” I point toward the bird in the window, not giving him a chance to respond.

 “Nature. Literally, Maine is full of it. Like Acadia National Park? ‘Bah habah’” I say, mocking the more northern pronunciation of Bar Harbor. 

Finally, he reaches me at the mental finish line, “Nature! Birds, Trees, Parks, Woods.. No, you’re right? That’s what makes Maine, Maine.”

“Okay, but also beyond this little bird in the window, there’s the dock. Maine is incredibly coastal, lobsters and allathat. We could do both. Like the duality of the State. Woods and Water.” 

“Woods and water.” He repeats, taking a bite of his gnocchi. “Actually, you know what else could be a good idea? Old and New.”

“Old and new? What do you mean?”

“Digital and Print. I have a bunch of old film cameras. I kind of collect them,” a slight rosy tint covers his cheeks. “We could take an assortment of both digital and film photos and present both to the editors.”

“Sam, that's brilliant!” It takes us approximately three seconds to realize in my excitement, I’ve grabbed his hand that was laid on the table. We both pull away at the same time.

He clears his throat, “If you wanted, when we’re done, we could drive to my apartment, and we can take a look at the cameras I have and then figure out a plan.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” my meal suddenly becoming the most interesting thing to look at. 

After a small bit of silence, Hunter comes back with our checks. Yep, checks. Plural. Sam noticeably shifts in his seat. He is apparently incredibly put off by this, and he bites out, “Just one check will do, Heath.”

“It’s Hunter.” He corrects, unamused, as he grabs the checks.

“Sure.” is all Sam says. 

I laugh. I giggle, actually. Profusely. The situation at hand is far too entertaining to hold it in any longer. 

“What?” Sam grills me.

“Heath! You know his name is Hunter.” I try to cover my giggle with my hand. 

“I do, but I had to knock him down a peg. Assuming that I’d make you pay for your food?” he scoffs. 

“I am not breaking up a fight, so reel it in, buddy.” I shake my head.

 Hunter arrives with a corrected, singular check, sending us off with a ‘have a very pleasant day.’ Probably trying to play up a last-ditch effort of hospitality to ensure a decent tip still. Sam’s brow furrows as he looks over the check, he sets it down and runs his hand through his hair. No man should have hair that beautiful. My hair isn't even that beautiful. He starts to furiously pat himself down. 

“I.. think I left my wallet in the office.” Oh great. Wonderful. Annoys me all morning, cons me into driving, and now I have to pay. 

He winks at me, “Just kidding.” Tucking a few bills into the check holder and standing. What’s with everyone winking at me?

“Asshole.” I roll my eyes, grab my jacket, and slide out of the booth. As I stand, my foot catches on the leg of the table, and I slip. Sam rushes over to steady me upright back on my feet. 

“Wow, you really are a cheap date, huh?” he jests. I try not to think about that too hard. “You sure you’re okay to drive?”

“I’m fine. My foot got caught, okay? I am not drunk. It was one glass.”

“Sounds like something a drunk person would say.” His laugh is infectious, and I hate it. It's very hard to stay annoyed at someone who laughs like they’re high on edibles all the time. But not in a Beavis and Butthead kind of way, in a carefree kind of way.

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The drive to Sam’s apartment is short; he lives closer than he made it seem which makes it easy. What is not easy, however, is the fact that there's off-street parking. I end up parking my Silver Honda CRV down the road a little by a very creepy looking ally, and we make the short walk back to his apartment. He lives on the second floor, so we at least avoid being locked in an elevator again and just take the stairs. 

“Soo, I wasn’t expecting company, so don’t expect it to be too clean. And I should also warn you…”

“Warn me about what,” I say nervously. He opens the door in lieu of a response, and one of the largest dogs I’ve ever seen comes skidding across the floor. The dog jumps on Sam as he gently coos, “Woah down girl, down.” He scratches her behind the ears and continues his adoration. “How’s my girl today, huh? Did you miss me? Daddy missed you so much while he was gone.” Oh.

I step into the apartment and close the door behind me, coming into her view. She switches gears and suddenly jumps at me with full force. Given her size, and me being the least graceful person on the planet. I almost fall on my ass. 

“Op,” I blow a puff of air toward my nose, trying to get some of her hair out of the way. When I steady myself on two solid feet, thank you very much, I ask, “And what’s your name, pretty girl? I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me. It’s Penelope, by the way.” Sam replies. “Or Duchess, or Penny, Penny girl. Whichever you prefer.”

“Penelope is a pretty name. You hear that? Pretty name for a pretty girl huh?” I coo in a slight baby voice. She is a gorgeous dog even if she is large. Her coat is incredibly soft. It's covered in black and brown with white all down her belly and just a bit on her nose.

“You know you can come in, right? You don’t have to stand by the door?” He waves me in. 

“Uhm, actually. I have to use the bathroom, do you mind?” I hate this part. The awkward, I don't know you that well, and now we're talking about bodily functions, part of getting to know someone. 

“Yeah, but it's actually through my bedroom.” He points to the doorway behind me. “First door is my closet, the second door is the bathroom.”

I walk through the doorway and take in my surroundings. Sam’s room is different than I expected and somehow exactly like I expected it to be. Not that I’ve pictured it, because I definitely have not. He has a king-sized bed with boring gray sheets. Typical. His deep wood nightstand sits just below one of 2 windows in his room, both without curtains. It’s pretty bare just an alarm clock, a lamp, and a charging pad for his phone. He has a few small plants in the window, which I should have expected given there’s a handful of plants in his kitchen. The walls are bare, apart from the few prints above his bed that’s sat on a frame with no headboard. I wonder if they’re his photos? He has a dresser that matches his nightstand and a TV on top with a gaming console. A very standard boy room apart from the few totes of his film strips that hang around. I suddenly realize I’ve been lingering too long in a space that isn’t mine, and I make my way to the bathroom, but not before I accidentally open his closet. Wow, he has a lot of clothes? I start to finger my way through the various fabrics. A man with a sense of style, so uncommon for this area. I close the closet door and choose the right door this time. 

I rinse my hands under the warm faucet, letting my eyes close, and the water start to warm me. This is going to be fine. I look at myself in the mirror. It's going to be fine. The project will be fine. You and Sam will get along… eventually. You’ll get the job and you’ll never have to talk to him again. It’ll be fine. If I say the words enough, maybe I’ll start to believe them. I dry my hands off and exit the bathroom with a silent wish that I took less time than it feels like I did. 

I pop my head back into the kitchen area where I first walked in, but I don’t see him.. Or Penelope. I take small, cautious steps toward what I assume is the living room. Just as I’m about to enter, I run full-bodied into Sam, causing my forehead to bounce right off his collarbone. A mixture of frustrated sounds escapes the two of us before he plants both his large hands on my shoulders and steps an arm’s length away from me. I rub at the pain between my eyes. Ouch.

“I thought you got lost for a minute.”

“No I just.. Didn’t know where you were. I wasn’t trying to invade your space.”

“Little late for that, isn’t it,” he gestures a hand between us, referring to our closeness. “Plus, there are only so many rooms, Willa. You would have found me eventually.” I hate it when he says my name. He turns and walks farther into the room calling after me, “You comin?”

I enter the room and it’s actually fairly large for it being in the city. Good, decent-sized apartments are hard to find here. There’s a half-brick wall behind the orange couch. The large windows set above it let in a ton of light but somehow don’t reflect off the TV screen sitting opposite it. He has records stored in a few different places and an old-style record player. A Fender Bass guitar and a small amp sit in the corner. I didn't know he could play an instrument. A small standing desk in the corner where his laptop sits among various other papers and notebooks. And to the left, there's a beautiful wall of shelves set up with a handful of film cameras. All old, each serving a unique purpose. It’s heaven for a person like me. I don't know why I've never thought to collect film cameras before. 

“Wow.” It comes out of my mouth barely above a whisper.

“I know. It's my favorite part of my house.” He’s proud. And he should be. I can feel the weight of his eyes on me, studying my reaction.

“Where did you get them all?” I question, reaching to touch one before I pull my hand back. It would be rude to just touch something so delicate and important, but the desire in me is burning. 

“Flea markets and vintage shops. Ebay. I even bought one off Etsy, oddly enough.” 

The anticipation is killing me, and I start to shift anxiously on my feet. I feel like a child at a candy store waiting for permission to let loose and stock my bag full. I’m sure from the outside I look like a child at a candy store, but I don’t care. If Sam didn’t annoy me so much, I might try to con my way into being friends with him just so I can test each one out. Every old camera has its own quirks it has developed over the years. Like it curated its own personality, stealing bits from each person that has held it. It’s a fun experience to learn a camera. 

“Go ahead.” he stifles his chuckle. 

I run my fingers over the few cameras on the bottom shelf.  He has a few different cameras from a few different decades, definitely older than both of us combined. I settle on a ‘1981 vintage Kiev camera Jupiter’; it doesn't shoot in 35mm like most standard film cameras. It shoots in 8m, creating a wider shot, not quite like today's panorama views. 

“I love that one. She creates these really beautiful wide shots. You gotta make sure you press quick and hard, though, or you won’t actually capture the photo.” He steps behind me and places his hand on mine, tilting the camera upwards before pointing at the button he’s referencing. His hands are so warm. When I inhale to disrupt my own thoughts, my back touches his chest. His chest is warm, too. Oh God. It's too warm in here. I step forward and turn around, facing him again. 

“She’s beautiful. I think I’ll go with this one. Thank you, Sam.” I dare to look at his coffee-colored eyes. “I know lending out something this special is a big deal. So thank you.”

“Just be careful. Josephine was a hard find." He grabs the camera from my hand and walks over to the couch where his camera bag is, slipping it inside.

“Josephine?” I question, “Do you.. name all your cameras?”

“Don’t judge me, okay. You’re telling me you don’t name yours? What about your car huh?” Oh, he’s got me there.

“I.. have named every car I’ve ever had.” I raise my hands in defeat and bow my head in amusement. 

“Alright then. Take your judgy pants off and leave 'em at home.”

“Hey, aren’t you going to grab one?” avoiding the previous comment entirely. 

“Nah, I always have my Olympus on me. I shoot on film any chance I can get.” He picks up his bag and slides it back on his shoulder. 

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Back in my car and buckling our seat belts, he says, “So I was thinking about the woods and water idea, and maybe we can shoot in town to save time and then, uhm, tomorrow.. uhh, if you’re free, we could do the woods stuff.” He seems nervous, and I can’t quite place my finger on why. I agree, placing my car in reverse and backing onto the main road. 

“I know of a nice place we can go… For tomorrow, I mean.”

“Should I be concerned you’re going to murder me in the woods?”

“I would never do that.”

“Sounds like something a murderer would say to a potential victim.” I side-eye him before returning my gaze to the road. “Don’t try anything, I most definitely will be bringing pepper spray tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m on sabbatical. Even serial killers need a break.” He flashes me a cocky smile and winks at me once again. The next person who winks at me is going to end up with their eyeball on a skewer. I SWEAR.

“Okay, now we're taking separate cars. That is, if you can even make it.”

“How dare you talk about Edith like that.” Raising his eyebrows in offense. “She is a gem and has been through a lot. She just needs TLC is all.”

“Edith? Josephine? What is this, the 1940s?” 

“Hey! Edith and Josephine are great names. They’re vintage– my truck is older than I am, so it makes sense.” He shrugs. “What’s your car's name, huh?”

“Jon Bon Silver Fox.” I try not to smile at the ridiculousness of it, but it’s sentimental, sort of. And it makes me laugh.

“Jon Bon… Silver Fox..” repeating my words slowly. “Like Jon Bon Jovi?”

“Like Jon Bon Jovi. My mom loved him when I was growing up so she always had his music playing, I grew up loving him too. Nowadays he's a silver fox, my car is silver, therefore: Jon Bon Silver Fox.”

“You would like mom-rock,” we both laugh, and I send him a small eye-roll to follow. 

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After finding another off-street parking spot, god, I hate Portland. We have a small huddle before deciding to split up and see what we can find. Our version of splitting up is just heading the same way down the road and shooting on opposite sides of the sidewalk, but it works. 

As annoying as the parking situation is in this city, it's absolutely beautiful here. Every building is made up of tattered red bricks because everything in this city is old. Old, but beautiful. There’s a history here, every spot has a story. Every small restaurant is owned by someone's grandfather or great-grandfather and passed down through generations. Sidewalks with initials carved into them, we even have our own version of the ‘love locks’. 

The evening breathes a different light, though. It’s painted with character right down to the cobblestone streets the drunk girls wobble down during the summer nights. The “cobble wobble” will never not be funny to me, especially since I’ve been that girl a time or two. 

I spot a Song Sparrow; at least I think that’s the correct bird. It's a small little thing with a tan body and dark brown spots, and it's absolutely beautiful. I crouch down, trying to make myself small so he doesn’t get scared and fly away. Aiming for a shot on the vintage camera I’ve borrowed from Sam, I realize the view is far too wide for what I need. 

“Sam!” I whisper-shout, looking around for him. When I don’t see him I call his name again a little louder. He pops his head up from behind a bush and I frantically wave him over pressing a finger to my lips to quiet him. He kneels down behind me. 

“I need this,” I say, grabbing his camera, still attached to his neck by his camera strap. He leans into me further as I pull the viewfinder close to my eye. I adjust the settings as quickly as I can so I don’t miss it.

He's far too close to my ear when he whispers to me, “I can take it off, you know?” A shiver runs down my back from the heat of his breath. Focus, Willa. 

“There’s no time. I don’t want him to fly away,” I click a couple times, and he shifts on his feet, crinkling whatever wrapper is trapped between his shoe and the pavement. 

“Shhhh,” I reach my hand across my body and grab his face blindly, my eye still glued to the camera. “Don't. Move.” I release him. One more click, and I’m certain I’ve got a good shot. 

“Did you get it?” He whispers in my ear again. I turn to face him, and he is so close to me. I follow his eyes as they meet mine and drop down to my lips. Oh, no.

I clear my throat, “Yeah, I think I did. Uhm,” I squeeze my lids shut and pause, trying to center myself. We both rush to stand at the same time. In the flurry of limbs, I seem to trip over my own foot, losing my balance completely. Sam lunges toward me but isn’t quick enough. I have no idea how I am the least graceful person alive. I grab the antique camera around my neck and on my way to the ground and try my best to hold it in the air. My ass takes all the damage in the fall but the camera remains perfectly intact. I breathe a sigh of relief, if Josephine was hard to find once, she'd be hard to find twice. 

“Jesus christ, Willa,” he hurries to my side. His next words don’t match the concern on his face. “You have to be more careful. You could have broken something!” He scolds me. His camera? That’s what he's worried about? I look down at the palm on my left hand, it's scuffed and bleeding slightly. Small rocks embedded in my skin. My ass is definitely going to have a bruise.

“Don’t worry, Sunshine. Your camera is fine,” I roll my eyes and brush myself off before standing. I hiss as my hand starts to throb. “Ah fuck” I mutter under my breath, waving my hand, trying to shake off the pain. 

“No..” a prolonged deep sigh escapes his lips. “Never mind, just be more careful,” reiterating his initial point. 

“Yeah, Got it.” I snap. Annoyance settles through me to my core once again. A constant state of being when I’m around him. Does he really think I’d be the type of person to let his shit break? “No, you know what. You always have some slick comments to say. Like you might just spontaneously combust if the world doesn’t hear your shitty commentary. Why are you always a jerk?”

“Telling you to be careful, is me being a jerk?” He defends.

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to your camera, Sam. So, please, can you not think I’m an idiot for five seconds?” I huff out.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot? I think you’re a klutz and definitely way too cranky for your own good, but I definitely don’t think you’re stupid.” Sounding slightly confused. For the love of god, why is he confused? 

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Can we go? I got what I needed, and I definitely don’t want to look at you anymore.” I start to head back toward my car. 

“I hope it gives you hell when you do, Birdie.” he follows in my footsteps. Birdie? What the hell is that?

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I somehow have found myself back at the Caravel Tavern. I say somehow but what I really mean is Quinn forced me, and I really can never say no to them. They know that and pull the ‘I’m your best friend’ card constantly. They’re lucky I love them so much.

“I cannot believe you made me come back here.” I shrink in my seat, trying to appear as small as possible. We’re sitting toward the back but not entirely in the corner. I face the door so I can see most of the bar to try and prevent someone from sneaking up on me. A thing that I learned does not actually work when it comes to this place. 

“Please, you act like I'm not at all nosy and don’t want to see the face of the man who keeps you lying awake at night.” Quinn teases.

“I do not lie awake at night. He just annoys me every waking moment of every waking day that I have to interact with him. Did I tell you he wore glasses today? It’s bad enough that he knows how to dress himself, but then to wear glasses? It made his face extra punchable.”

“Babes, that’s called cuteness aggression.”

“No, Absolutely not. He’s annoying, not cute. He also started calling me Birdie today. No idea why. Birdie??” In the middle of my defense, I notice Quinn’s eyes go wide and then the bartender I haven’t met yet appears from behind me, effectively scaring me. What is it with this place?

“Welcome, Welcome!” he says, as cheerful as if sunshine itself had manifested in our presence.

“Is it written in the manual as a requirement that you sneak up behind your guests and scare them?” I inquire. 

“Ahh yes, actually. It's in the section of the manual right next to ‘How to deal with cheeky customers’,” He throws me an equally cheeky side eye and a smile. 

“Ya know, I like you. At least one of you can grow a mustache around here.”

“I’m not Employee of the Month for nothing. Be on the lookout for a framed photo of yours truly on the wall over there.” He makes a small gesture toward the bathrooms. 

“So what, can I get you started with today?” At least one person who works here is funny. He’s charming in a way that Sam wishes he was. Effortlessly so. He’s not cocky or arrogant, he’s just funny and warm. Warm in a way that if all the people of the world were like that, it would be a better place. He takes our orders, making us laugh through the whole interaction, which is a nice change of pace from the last few days. He pauses a moment before he leaves and his gaze lingers on Quinn a bit. Interesting.

“I think he thinks you’re cute, Q,” I whisper to them like a gossiping old bitty. 

“He’s related to the owner.” They tell me, whispering back.  

“Jesus Christ, there’s three of them?”

“Three of them?”

“Yeah, the one who can’t grow a mustache owns the bar, and Sam is his brother. If this one is related to the owner too, then they’re all brothers.” I pause.

 “Wait, how do you know he’s related to the owner?” I look over toward the bar and accidentally make eye contact with Sam. “Oh god.” I whisper, “That’s him. Quinn, don’t look, he's coming over here.”

“What happened to not wanting to look at me? Change your mind and come to gaze at my devilish handsomeness?” Sam exudes cockiness from every orifice. What a tool. 

“Devilish, yes. Handsome, debatable. I came for a drink. Had to unwind after dealing with the world's worst coworker today.” I flutter my eyelashes and throw him a sarcastic smile. 

“Yeah, that Susan is an uptight bitch, huh?” He takes notice of Quinn, looking them up and down in their striped, earth-toned sweater and mocha-colored overalls. Their hair in their signature pixie cut curls. 

“And who is this?” He asks while maintaining his gaze on Quinn. 

“Uh, Sam, this is my roommate, Quinn. Quinn, this is my project partner, Sam.” He reaches out to shake their hand, which they return apprehensively.

“Birdie, you didn’t tell me your roommate was hot.” I would pay money to have had someone record this interaction because Quinn’s face is priceless. Maybe now they understand the hell I go through.

The third brother appears from out behind Sam, then in the sneaky way they all seem to have perfected. 

“OKAY.” He says loudly, clamping his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t you have some shit to take care of? Like your job.” Sam starts to try, and pull his shoulder away. By the grimace he’s making, he has a tight grip on his brother. Sam breaks free and rubs at his shoulder. 

“Ow, Josh,” He says, not low enough to escape my ears. What a baby. I wonder if he’ll complain about that, too. Probably. 

“So, sorry about him. He doesn’t get out much. He acts a bit rabid when he sees real people.” Josh pads off to return to his other duties. 

“Do you see what I mean? He’s intolerable.”

“Absolutely, completely intolerable.”

“Thank you.” 

“No, you’re right, Wilson. Sam IS cute.” They say a bit too loud for my taste. “Shhhhh. I never said that!” I look around frantically to see if any of the brothers are within earshot and regretfully notice a smirk on Sam’s lips. Curse Quinn and their antics.

&lt;- Chapter Three Chapter Five

Masterpost | Taglist

Taglist 💜 :

(I don't know what happened last week with the tags I double checked this week 😅)

@gvfsstardust @myleftsock @mindastreamofcolours @imleavingyoufornewyork @dont-go-home-without-me@literal-dead-leaf, @lizzys-sunflower @threadofstars @mackalah @klarxtr @ourlovesdesire, @writingcold @edgingthedarkness @takenbythemadness @i-love-gvf @ladywhimsymoon @earthgrlsreasy @peaceloveunitygvf, @violet-hayes @anythingforjtk

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite 2024 Prompt #7 - Morsel

Xiao was never the lucky sort, she played Cactpot every so often, but rare were her winnings in Mini-Cactpot, and she had yet to win more than the pity prize for the weekly Cactpot. That was fine, she preferred to earn her wins after all. The taste of victory was all the juicer when she was able to struggle to attain it. Ironic indeed that the one time her luck got in her way in the worst way was in a matter of taste.

Xiao had had many, many tacos in Tural, it was one of the things she just never stopped enjoying. Meat and vegetables in an unleavened ground corn flatbread… it was strangely reminiscent of quite a few dishes from home in the South Sea Isles, but also of a multitude of Eastern dishes with a similar set up. What was a taco but a piecemeal cooked and then assembled dumpling? The largest differences being that of cooking style, though one could easily prepare the meat of a taco in all of the different ways you could prepare dumplings all told; that one was expected to eat maybe two or three tacos for a full meal instead of a dozen or so dumplings; and that the taco sauces were generally laid directly on the meat as opposed to dipped in separately. There was a soup dumpling recently invented that was named in her honor that she would want to try with some of the taco sauces she had gotten acquainted with. But ever since landing in Tuliyollal, all of the tacos had come from Aunt Tii’s, or from other, lesser known taco restaurants, but not Xbalyav Ty’e. It was as if the universe had bent its will towards preventing Xiao from ever enjoying Br’uk Evu’s esteemed tacos.

The first time she was denied the tacos, she was stymied by Bakool Ja Ja, who trod all over her tacos to be. The second chance she had to taste the tacos, it didn’t occur to her to grab some for the road before she was pulled away by Erenville, who insisted they had dawdled far long enough.  After that, there just wasn’t a chance, between chasing after the Passage of the Unbound and the overall supply shortages in the city after the Alexandrian forces attacked, Xiao either could not get tacos or there were no tacos to be had. But now that she had the free time, with Sphene destroyed and the Passage of the Unbound completely taken care of for now, Xiao still couldn’t get a bleeding taco.

Xbalyav Ty’e and all of the other restaurants in Tuliyollal had turned their kitchens into places where people could receive aid, either medical or food-based. They stopped serving their normal food and instead churned out enormous amounts of cheap and filling mass produced food. They had a taco in all of that as well, but it was clearly not the taco that people had referred to as the best in the city. At the very least, the taco did nothing to square up to Aunt Tii’s normal tacos. Having seen how long the lines were for meals at every establishment, quantity and as many full bellies as possible  was clearly their main goal. But as normal operations resumed almost a moon later, Xbalyav Ty’e and Aunt Tii’s Tacos both were slammed with demand, so much so that Xbalyav Ty’e had customers queued all the way to the Arch of the Dawn all the way to close, and Aunt Tii’s had a queue that had to get the Landsguard involved to direct traffic around it. Though peaceful, cooperative, and full of good will if not good food, the crowds were such that there was no way for the restaurants to handle that demand, and the Dawnservants even called a public meeting as to how to best address this. Aunt Tii’s ended up implementing a lottery system operated by the Landsguard and Xbalyav Ty’e ended up implementing a ration system, in which every customer was given a day of the week that they could order a single taco from the restaurant based on drawn lots. Both systems were to be temporary, at least until the crowds thinned out. It was also good incentive to try other restaurants. But Xiao had tried other restaurants, and she still had never tasted one of Br’uk Evu’s tacos at their finest. At first, she was sure she’d simply be able to skip the line and enjoy some special treatment as a savior of Tuliyollal, but then Wuk Lamat, Dawnservant of Resolve and also savior of Tuliyollal, publicly showed up with Koana and they both drew lots themselves, refusing to use even their status as the rulers of Tural to skip the line. Which of course meant Xiao had no excuses. Her miserable luck in these sorts of things then kicked in again.

So Xiao ended up in line with everyone else on the last day of the week. She found herself queued behind an unaccompanied Mamool Ja child. Tuliyollal was safe enough a city that a child waiting in such a line was merely a curiosity and not a cause for concern, and under the watchful eye of the Warrior of— well, adventurer known as Xiao Longbao, no harm would come to her. Xiao watched as the child took out a tiny purse and counted out gil coins one by one. A single taco didn’t cost that much, but the child looked so proud to have counted out the exact change. The taco presented to her was taken in both hands, and she skipped off to enjoy. And then finally, Xiao was at the counter. As much as she wanted to order five or six tacos and just pig out, she presented the money for her allotted one. The rest of her lunch she’d simply have to buy at another restaurant. As she received her precious taco and change, a commotion started up behind her. Xiao walked over to rubberneck as any good adventurer would, and saw that it was the Mamool Ja child. She must have tripped or gotten bumped into, as her taco was spilled all over the street. To her credit, she wasn’t bawling, which was probably something Xiao wouldn’t be able to resist doing had the same thing happened to her after all of this time, but silent tears still welled in her eyes. The adults around her and in queue looked around sheepishly. No one would deny the child another taco, but under the circumstances, it was hard to argue with the new system in place and all. It was then that Xiao’s heart sank. She knew what she had to do. She squatted down next to the child and presented her the taco that she had ordered for herself. The Mamool Ja child’s face lit up, “A-are you sure?” Xiao nodded, there was always next week. Not wanting to wait around and listen to the crowd cheer for her or sing her praises for this small kindness, she got up and walked away as casually but quickly as she could. “Wait!” Xiao turned to see the child running towards her, nearly taking a spill again. With some effort, she ripped Xiao’s taco in two rough halves, and presented one half to Xiao. “Please, ma’am, at least have some with me!”

It was a good bite, maybe two bites, all told, but it was a supremely delicious bite of taco.

[thewildwaffle]

Ghost Busters

A prompt from user Kelly on ao3

Edit: I didn't originally mean for this to get spooky, but it did. Maybe reconsider reading this at night if you get easily spooked

***

Desan looked over the calendar. Booked out for another two moors. Wow. She really thought clients would have started going elsewhere once they found out the wait was more than a decacycle or two. They must be getting desperate.

The comm lines rang again. It seemed like they rang more often than they were quiet lately. Desan eyed the calendar again before she picked up the call.

“Hello, AIM Inspections, Desan speaking, how many I help you today?”

“Hi, I was told you offer haunting inspections?” The voice on the other line sounded gruff and a little tired. “We’ve had a flarg of an attempt trying to hire lately and our crew’s numbers are starting to dwindle fast.”

Desan nodded, even though the caller obviously couldn’t see. Here we go with another one. “Yes, we offer supernatural analysis inspections. I must warn you now that we are booked out until mid-Corruse on the Burnti calendar.”

The caller sighed and hummed for a bit. “That’s not as soon as I’d like, but honestly, you’re the third place I’ve called and that’s the soonest I’ve heard. What do you need from me to get started?”

“Well,” Desan pulled up a form on her track tablet, “I’ve just got a few questions, get a bit of information, then I’ll send you a form fill and I’ll get you on the schedule. First off, to whom am I speaking, and may I ask what alerted you to the need for our services?”

“Riord Esh, operations manager for the Bantar outer fleet. And I'd say we were alerted the same way as most people, I’d wager,” the gruff voice drawled out. “Tried hiring some humans, but they claimed our ships were haunted. That's since spread around. No one wants to work on a ship where even humans are scared if you know what I mean."

"I do, yes that's been a pretty common problem we've been hearing."

"Have you been able to fix this? I mean for the ships you have done the inspections for?"

"Oh yes, we've got a 100% ghost-free guarantee. Now, if I can get a bit of info from you, I can go ahead and get you scheduled for mid-Corruse."

The rest of the call went smoothly. Before Desan hung up, she assured Riord Esh that, should another client cancel, they would be moved up in the queue, to which they were grateful.

And with that, another client on the long, long list.

Desan had helped out on some of the inspections, and with all the demand lately, would probably continue doing so. It was a bit of extra pay, so she certainly had no issue with the extra work. It also had the added benefit of being quite interesting.

For the vast majority of "haunted" ships, the supernatural inspections ran almost identically to normal ship inspections. It was funny how often "sudden cold spots" were just a simple draft, or feelings of paranoia or being watched turned out to be caused by a previously undetected gas leak. The initial inspectors would simply write up a report detailing fixes needed and boom. Suddenly the ship no longer has a hard time finding a crew to hire.

But there were exceptions. The kind of exceptions that really threw a rock into their otherwise simple business model.

Before this job, Desan did not consider herself to be superstitious in any way. She still adamantly claimed to not believe in ghosts and haunts and spookums. But even she had to second-guess her stance when some of her inspector coworkers came back from some of their more… problematic jobs.

There were things that just didn’t make sense. Unsettling things. Usually involving some unfortunate or tragic circumstance. They were the things that couldn’t be satisfyingly brushed off as hallucinations of over-worked or mourning brains.

One in the particular job still gave her shivers. She’d been asked to join an inspection tour on one of the largest ships their company has done to date. It was a new, fresh off the assembly line, Booletean Cruiser Class 6. The ship's sheer size meant more hands were needed for the inspection crew to get everything checked out. Even then it still took an entire day cycle just to get through everything. And what a day it was.

The ship, again, was new. It should have had no issues. However, upon checking some of the paperwork for its production, it turned out that only some of the parts were completely new.

There’d been a terrible crash a decacycle or two before. Another Booletean Cruiser Class 6 had crashed. The Bayjee Disaster. There were survivors, but far more lives were lost. It was a tragic accident, a perfect storm of circumstances mixed with just enough miscommunication that caused it all.

While sifting through the wreckage, it was discovered that some of the parts of the ship were still in good condition. After intense inspection and testing, they were eventually used in the construction of another Booletean Cruiser.

The very one Desan and her company had been hired to inspect.

They checked everywhere. There were no gas leaks to explain why crew members would feel paranoid or even panicked, insisting that they were not alone when no one else was there.

There was nothing wrong with the pipes in the boiler room, even though engineers insisted that they would hear unexplained banging and screeching metal near the end of their shifts. Always twenty mentiks before their shifts ended. It never mattered what time of the day cycle they were working, it was always twenty mentiks before the end of their shift.

From the investigation, it was widely claimed that the chain of events that led to the Bayjee crashing had taken about twenty mentiks to come to fruition.

But one of the worst aspects of the “haunted” ship was something Desan and her team hadn’t experienced with other ship inspections.

Several crew members, passengers, and even a few kloxan dignitaries had claimed that they had seen the Bayjee captain aboard their ship. They claimed they’d seen her face quite clearly. She never said anything, she never interacted with anyone, she’d just be there. And then she’d be gone like someone had flipped a switch and turned off some sort of ghostly projector.

There were official reports of these sightings, several in fact, most of which were made by otherwise level-headed individuals that would have nothing to gain by falsifying such reports.

They spent far longer on this inspection than they had on any other project. With other jobs starting to pile up in the meantime, a decision was ultimately made to remove the parts of the ship that were originally part of the Bayjee and replace them with identical parts fresh off the assembly line.

All reports of any “haunting” phenomena immediately stopped.

Desan decided to stick to her office post after that. She still claimed to be a skeptic of the claims of the supernatural, and in most cases, she was. Being so was now part of her line of work. But even she had to admit that in the vastness of space and within all the realms of possibility, there was much that was beyond her understanding.

The comm lines rang again, pulling her out of her musings. With a sigh, she stretched and eyed the very full calendar before answering the call. “Hello, AIM Inspections, Desan speaking, how many I help you today?”

[ikkaku-of-heart]

@celestiialnotes for Bepo continued from here:

Damn it, Bepo was so hard to hold her ground against. He was just so darn cute, even when he wasn't trying to be, and Ikkaku always felt so guilty arguing with him even a little bit.

"Bepo, it's not even that I like to work," she argued, though honestly, she did enjoy it more than normal people. Machines were her passion, and she liked how a job well done made her feel useful. Necessary. Like she couldn't be discarded easily. Not that the Hearts ever would, but it was a security that kept an old wound in her soul from reopening. "It's just that it's important that I get my work done. What I'm working on now is going to be major for the whole ship! The sooner I get it done, the happier everyone will be!"

For a moment, when Bepo seemed willing to bargain for time, she had hope that she could finish the new ship-wide air conditioning system in peace, but when he suggested less than an hour, her shoulders drooped. "That's...not enough time, Bepo. I'm nearly done building it, but I'm gonna need more time than that to install it. More like...ok, probably another four hours at least." Admittedly, she could maybe finish the actual building part in less than an hour if she rushed, but this had to be perfect. The whole crew would benefit, but it was specifically for the poor polar bear mink who suffered from the heat and stuffiness of the submarine when they were underwater for too long. So she couldn't risk rushing and screwing up. He deserved to be comfortable, and if she had to miss a few meals and hours of sleep, it was worth it.

[moiixxx]

A Gunwook Fanfic

a/n: hey guys this is my first post on here and i wrote my first zerobaseone fanfic on wattpad called “restlessly in love with you” with my username on there being ‘cvpiddgirl_’. Here’s a short part of the first chapter.

Korean International School, an institute where you'll be sure to make friends, or at least that's what they say in the ads they plaster on the billboards. Dana trudged up the stairs, dragging her hefty suitcase that over shadowed her flimsy body. There was no mistake that she's was going to hate this school filled with pretentious rich kids.

As she took in her surroundings, suitcase still in hand, she bumped into a blonde haired boy with an inviting smile. "oh sorry, didn't see you there." He said as her suitcase fell to the floor with a bang.

"lemme get that for you, I'm Matthew by the way" he introduced while he reached down to pick up my suitcase with ease.

"Nice to meet you Matthew, Im Dana, sorry I should've watched where I was going" I said I little embarrassed. It was no surprise that Matthew was fine as hell so the fact that I was even able to hold this conversation without fail was a miracle in itself. "It's fine, honestly moving day is the only day you can tell apart first years to the rest of school" He said with his smile on display once again. I swear I almost died. Maybe I'm not going to hate this school after all.

As I was lost in thought, daydreaming about the life with Matthew in the near future, two kids, a house with a Mr and Mrs sink, big back garden so that the kids can frolic- my thoughts were disrupted.

"Where am I taking this?" Matthew asked. "oh right, room 165" I said. Shortly after, they had reached my room. I had thanked Matthew before taking my suitcase into my room and taking it all in, not before exchanging numbers with him. The room was bigger than my whole house. I started unpacking before I had to leave for the introduction assembly.

During the assembly, I managed to locate Matthew, who happened to sit with eight other very handsome specimens. I don't know why I was so astounded, obviously a hot guy would have hot friends. For the rest of the assembly I closed my eyes and imagined my next steps. I had received a scholarship from this school that would most definitely aid me in getting a good paying job after. I would move my family out to a nice neighbourhood next, and buy them a huge house with a pool as my little sister always wanted, and before I knew it, the assembly was over.

I walked down the auditorium stairs to collect my schedule for the term, not forgetting to steal a glance from Matthews fine ass entourage. Just when I was about to join the queue to receive my timetable, a tall ass wall blocked my view. I looked between the so called wall and Matthews group until It clicked that this pretentious guy was part of Matthews group. "excuse me, you clearly saw me but decided to push in front of me" I said while simultaneously tapping his shoulder. He turned around, in what felt like slow motion, and as much as I hate to admit it, he was the most attractive man I had laid my eyes on. "well it wasn't until I looked down that I saw you, so instead of blaming me maybe focus on your own vertical hinderance". The sentence alone was enough to knock the wind out of me, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of getting the last word. "maybe if you stopped acting like you're doing the school a favour by gracing it with your sorry presence, you would realise that the world doesn't revolve around you and wait at the back like everyone else" I said while walking in front of him and reclaiming my spot in the line. The nerve of that guy, I just hope that I don't have any classes with him.

A/N: if you liked the snippet of my fanfic, please be sure to check out “restlessly in love with you” by ‘cvpiddgirl_’ on wattpad and please Vote and comment.

[art-of-manliness]

Make a Week of Cheap, Easy, High-Protein Breakfasts in Less Than an Hour

If you’re looking to eat healthier, one of the best things you can do to make that happen is to make eating healthier easy. Like stupid easy. So easy, you hardly have to think about it. One way to accomplish this is to prepare your meals in advance so you know exactly what’s in them, and so that when you’re pressed for time, you don’t default to eating whatever unhealthy options are on hand or getting expensive, no-good-for-you fast food. When it’s time to eat, you just grab your ready-made meal from the fridge or freezer. You know, meal prep. One make-ahead meal I’ve been enjoying recently is a high-protein breakfast bake. I got the idea from a fella named Johnny Hadac on Instagram who serves up easy, affordable meal prep recipes for people looking to lose weight/eat better. This breakfast bake takes about 15 minutes to prep. The thing that takes the most time is dicing up your veggies. Bake time is about 35 minutes. When you’re done, you’ll have six tasty, high-protein, low-carb mini breakfast casseroles that will leave your belly feeling nice and full, but without a ton of calories.  Just take a look at the macro breakdown for each bake: * Protein: 50 grams * Carbs: 12 grams * Fat: 22 grams * Total Calories: 452 Cost per bake is $3.50. You’d pay about $13 for a similar breakfast bake from one of those companies that sell ready-to-eat meals online. I know, because I’ve bought them before. So these babies are tasty, healthy, and cost-effective. Here’s how to make them. Ingredients * 6 eggs * 24 ounces egg whites * 24 ounces low-fat cottage cheese * 12 ounces mild cheddar cheese * 6 precooked chicken sausages (you can buy them already cooked) * 1 onion * 3 bell peppers * Salt and pepper Preheat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit Queue up the Art of Manliness Podcast Great to listen to while you’re prepping these. Dice Onion and Bell Peppers This is what will take most of your time. Lay Out Six Cooking Pans on a Table We’re going to prep these like they’re on a Henry Ford Model-T assembly line. I used these aluminum meal prep pans that you can buy at most grocery stores. I recommend doing the same when you first try this out. If you decide to make this a regular thing, you can buy some Pyrex pans. It will save you money, and you’ll be able to reheat your bake in the microwave right in the dish. Spray Each Pan With Cooking Spray Crack One Egg in Each Pan Add ½ Cup of Egg Whites to Each Pan Add ½ Cup of Low-Fat Cottage Cheese to Each Pan If cottage cheese makes you squeamish, don’t worry, you don’t taste it. But it gives the bake more protein and some bulk. Add 1 Diced Sausage to Each Pan I used Al Fresco Sweet Apple Chicken Sausages. Why? Because it was the only precooked chicken sausage available at my local Walmart Neighborhood Market. You could use whatever precooked meat you want to use: bacon, ham, ground beef, whatever. I used chicken sausage because it’s lower in fat and higher in protein. Add ¼ Cup of Mild Cheddar Cheese to Each Pan Add a Handful of Veggies to Each Pan Sprinkle With Salt and Pepper and Mix Ingredients Together You can also add other seasonings as desired, like Old Bay. You know I love me some Old Bay! Bake in the Oven for 35 Minutes Bam! A Week’s Worth of High-Protein Breakfasts If you baked them in the aluminum pans, just slide them onto a plate to reheat in the microwave. ~90 seconds should do the trick.  These actually taste really good cold.  I like to hit mine with some sort of hot sauce before consuming.  Enjoy! The post Make a Week of Cheap, Easy, High-Protein Breakfasts in Less Than an Hour appeared first on The Art of Manliness. http://dlvr.it/T2WgsP

[appledew]

Riptide is all set!

Made for  foliagekat on Twitter!

This plush is made of custom dyed minky, minky, and mochi minky. They are about 14 inches tall from the top of the hair to the bottom tips of the feet. All details are machine embroidered and appliqued, a few colors are colorblocked. This plush is slightly floppy, and needs support to sit up or stand.

WOW.

Starting with patterning, the base body is a heavily modified version of another plush, Gin! After the first prototype, I decided to give them more of the shape that their reference had (”shorter” torso, legs higher up on the base body and longer I think? More of a curve on the waist). The biggest reason that changes were done was because adding the stripe detailing turned out to be difficult on a body shape that didn’t match up. ^^;

Patterning the stripes was interesting. A few pieces were color blocked, literally like no more than 6 pieces on the base body, the rest were all appliqued without the more solid satin stitch; just a thin zigzag stitch. Since this little one was a beanie type plush i figured the Satin stitch would add unnecessary bulk. ^^; The only spat I have about the thin zigzag stitch-- feels like the lines arent as tidy as i would have liked-- and by lines I mean were colors overlap. One more thing to add; the colors are no more than 2 layers of fabric to reduce bulk! Some parts have up to what could have been 4 layers, but the way the applique was done to keep things flexible, 2 layers overlap each other. :)

BUT OVERALL, I think it was a good decision skipping out on the full satin stitch. :)

Some time in between patterning and prototyping I also dyed almost all of the colors on this plush; the black and darker color on the forehead are the only colors that didn’t need dyeing!

The chest, tail and hair were all patterned after the fact. The tail required multihooping! 

After assembly, I think i spent a few hours cleaning up the applique. The tail was SUPER messy, tbh! I’m not exactly sure why the tail had so many bits that needed to be snipped off, but it looks much better after a few cleanups!

Back tracking a tiny bit to the head pattern. So Riptide ha 2 unique side profiles, one with just a regular smooth looking head in the back; the other had a little cute tuft that puffed out... Small confession: I went with the smooth back because I ran out of one of the colors.😳 

I still havent learned my lesson to dye too much of a certain color.

And I think thats it! I thought I was out of my element when i accepted this little one, but wow. I’m happy to have had a chance to work on them! ^u ^

_________

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[blahblahblaw18]

Saving our sarva janaangada shaantiya thoTa

sarva janaangada shaantiya toTa

rasikara kangaLa seLeyuva noTa

hindu kraistha mussalmaana

paarasika jainar udyana

(A tranquil garden belonging to all communities

Forever enticing the epicurean's eyes

Hindu, Christian, Muslim

Parsi, and Jain- a park where truly everyone prospers)

"With our heads held high and Shoulders straight, lets us all stand up and sing the state anthem" the comperer would announce and all of us, on cue, would stand in our school assembly, reciting these very same lines threaded together by the Raashtrakavi, in the same tune, with the same intonation, every Saturday, for years on end without ever bothering about what they meant.

It never really occurred to us to ask the meaning of these complex words because we never felt the need to do so. We knew what the naadageethe signified and what values it stood for. We knew what legacy the Rashtrakavi was entreating upon us to cherish and carry forward and we knew that we didn’t have to know the meaning of these lines to be able to understand and imbibe in ourselves the principles that we wanted our state to reflect.

But today... today we are standing at another time, called upon to gather at another assembly under the school of our state's destiny- and now it is more important than ever for us to once again recite these lines, renew our vows and ask ourselves- What does Karnataka mean to us? What were the ideals that we were guided by when we all chose to unite under the colours of red and yellow, where have we reached and What plans, thoughts and ideas do we have for the future of our beloved Karunaadu?

Growing up as tiny tots running around and chasing butterfly dreams in this garden of secularity, the one thought that all our minds were imbued and indoctrinated with was – Indina Makkale Naalina Prajegalu. Today’s children are tomorrow’s citizens. We would be told, in classrooms and lecture halls and seminars by teachers, leaders and elders that the destiny of our state was a gift that would be bequeathed to us at the opportune time.

And that time has now arrived. Tomorrow, for the very first time in our lives, we will be called upon to decide for ourselves what Karnataka we wish to live grow and prosper in. A weighted responsibility no doubt. And tomorrow, when we once again, filter into long queues and assemble outside government schools to exercise our franchise and decide the destiny of our state, we should take a moment and ponder upon whether the Karnataka that has been thrust upon us, a Karnataka which has been cast under the shadow of communalism, which sits and shivers under the Damocles sword of corruption and which fears the erasure of it’s language culture and community, is truly the same Karnataka singing about whose glory our hearts would swell in pride.

We were taught to embrace everyone with open arms, and today we are being made to turn against our own sisters and brothers. We were told to be honest, upright and law-abiding citizens, but today we are being made to hang our heads in shame to offer under the table commissions. We grew up being nourished by the milk of the matronly Nandini and today she faces the threat of our infidelity.

Along with all these changes, there has also been another monumental change. Nenneya makkaLu have today become naadina prajegaLu. The Karnataka of today may be a vastly different place than the Karnataka of our childhood but now we have been entrusted with the responsibility of and vested with the power to develop, design and reimagine this garden of ours. It is now in our hands to decide which seeds to sow and which weeds to plough.