#but i didn’t start writing mostly in cursive until like late high school

[mensfrightsactivist]

for funsies reblog with your answer + how old you are + any other info you think is relevant?

[rosemarie--h]

( zoey deutch. 25. she/her. ) i think i just saw ROSEMARIE  JANE HARMON ride by on a golf cart . at least i think it was them . after all , I MISS THE MISERY BY HALESTORM was blasting on the transistor radio . maybe they were on their way to work , i hear they’re a BARTENDER AT THE WATERING HOLE . but they totally could have been on their way to PLAY PRANKS ON THE MEMBERS. guess we’ll never know . you’ll definitely know its them when you see RIPPED BLACK JEANS, SOUND OF 90'S ROCK AND DILATED PUPILS around the country club . let’s just hope they stay off the green after hours or else the sprinklers will get them ! ( marie. 26. est. she/her. none. ) 

tw: child neglect, tw: drugs, tw: suicide

I couldn’t help myself and brought my old rebel  child back. I just love my messy and broken girl.!

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 Matthew and Stacey Harmon where the epitome of what success should look like. They were a young couple who had come from nothing and mounted to be the most sought-after criminal defense lawyers in the United States. They were known for their poise and ability to handle high profile cases with dignity and discretion. Their clients ranged from high-grossing actors and celebrities to politicians and other government officials. And in the years since their jump into high profile, they had built up an image that both always strived to be. They had to be picture perfect. Perfectly put together. Fit the part of success. So naturally, when they became pregnant, it wasn’t something they had planned or particularly wanted. They tried to keep the pregnancy as quiet as possible, and while they had always had the option of abortion or adoption, for some reason the Harmons had allowed the pregnancy to go full term.

Rosemarie Jane Harmon was born on August 5th, 1992 and unlike most babies, Rose was not held by her mother immediately after birth. In fact, she had been refused and sent immediately to the hospital nursery. The rest of her life followed in similar fashion. Rose had come into her parents’ life as unwanted and unloved. A child ruined the image the stoic lawyers had tried to build for themselves and their practice, especially as child as lively and rambunctious as Rose had been from the start. Rose had probably been embraced by her parents only a handful of times, most of the love she received growing up coming from the Nanny – Elizabeth Green – that had been hired to raise her. But even Elizabeth – the only mother figure she had truly grown to know – was taken from her once Stacy deemed Rose old enough to take care of herself.

Growing up without any love or affection had Rose searching for it in all the wrong places from a very young age. It started off innocently enough – mostly confined to causing trouble at home, just so she could get a flicker of attention from her father or mother but that stopped working, her cries become louder. Living in Atlanta, it wasn’t hard to find trouble. In school, Rose started to hang out with the wrong crowd. Though, the more trouble she found, the less it seemed her parents cared, almost slowly fazing her out of their image.

She was 17 when she first fell from grace. At a rave, Rose stuck her tongue out, letting a tablet be pressed to her tongue for the first time. She’s been after that high ever since. It was the closest thing that she could imagine love felt like. It took her away from the feeling of worthlessness that plagued her because of her parents’ incapability of loving her as parents should love their children. It took her away from the pain of missing her only mother figure who never tried to reach out to her despite promising a young rose she would on the day she was let go. It took her away from the depression that ran through her body despite her refusal to acknowledge it.

From that moment on, Rose lived searching for the occasional high to get her feeling alive again but for the most part, she had it under control, still having a firm grip on reality. But everything began to take a different path when she met Andrew. He was older than her, a good five years. But despite their age difference, they had immediately hit things off and it wasn’t long before Rose had fallen completely head over heels for him. He was the first person she opened up to him about her home life and when Andrew heard of her misery, he had given her the option to follow him to his next destination.

With no family or real friends to hold her back, Rose didn’t hesitate to pack what she could when her boyfriend at the time asked her to run away with him. They hit the road then and Rose hasn’t been back to Atlanta since. When her and Andrew landed in Chicago, Rose’s eyes were opened to a new world – mostly for the worse. He introduced her to a world of endless fun and chemically induced euphoria. It was with him that the dependency for drugs began to really grow. It started off her a tablet of molly here or there, like she had been doing in Atlanta, and before she knew it, she was doing a line in the bathroom of a club.

About a year or so after being together, Rose’s world would soon fall apart. One morning, after a typical night of partying, she woke up to find that Andrew was dead. He had overdosed and she’d been too high too notice. By the time she had woken up, it had been too late. So, Rose got up, called the cops and ran before they got there.

Rose’s already fragile heart was shattered at losing the one person that had loved her in this cruel world. The one person she had loved unconditionally. And the grief fueled her addiction even further. 

From that day forward, Rose lived most of her minutes high or searching for the next dose. It didn’t really matter where the high came from, she just craved that feeling of euphoria, of being alive, of numbness. If it came from a tablet of molly, fine. If it was from a shot of heroin, cool. A mixture of opioids, why not? A smoke of meth- what was the harm? But her favorite way to lose herself was from a line of cocaine. Rose began to live a very nomadic life, travelling where she wanted, making connections as she went, crashing on their couches and starting all over again. There were times when she became so drugged, she would party for days, unable to settle down enough to stop and sleep. She got into fights. Spent many days in stupors, a haze. She wouldn’t have a clue of the reality around her.

Rose was twenty, when she OD’d for the first time and was admitted into rehab for her addiction. After a few months of rehab, Rose was released, and she wasted no time in falling back into her vices. She continued to jump from place to place, never staying no longer than a few weeks at a time. In her travels, she had several relapses, a couple of times causing her to be readmitted into rehab. But sadly, her addiction was stronger than her will live.

That was until she met Finely but Finley is someone Rose never talks about.

If Rose lived in shadowed lands, then Finley lived in other darkness. There was fragility around this woman that had drawn Rose to her immediately. Their initial time was spent mostly just hooking up but it was in the quiet moments that Rose fell. Finley was the other half of her, her true and tragic soulmate. Her star crossed lover. 

There was a part of her that always knew Finley wouldn’t exist on this Earth forever. There was a sadness and exhaustion that clung so tightly to her love and even when there seemed to be a little light that shined through, it wasn’t enough. 

The day Rose walked into their apartment and found that Finley had taken her life, was as expected as it was a shock. She still doesn’t know how long she clung to Fin’s body, sobbing for her to come back before she finally called for help.

Rose has never been the same. 

The loss completely eviscerated her. There was a gaping hole left in her chest and Rose went down a spiral to rock bottom, trying to fill or numb that hole. 

Rose has never been truly sober since that day 2 years ago and while she has gotten her vices under somewhat of control, she still very much relies on them on a day to day basis. Just enough to numb the hurt that never seems to go away. 

When she arrived in Highland at 1 year ago, Rose was probably at the lowest she had ever been. But trying to keep her promise to Finley, Rose has tried to make the best of things. She landed a job at the Watering Hole and has found a apartment to live in with a roommate.

And though every day is a struggle for her, Rose feels that she’s on the right track to turn her life around. Or at least, pretend to.

Important Facts: - Rose has a lot of emotional and mental issues due to her past. Mostly, she has this abandonment complex and she struggles every day with a heavy sense of worthless. - Has been clean for two and a half years. - She still clings to the party scene, though she now stays away from illicit substances, she has no issue with throwing back a few shots. - Rose hasn’t been in a relationship with anyone in about 2 years and is very happy that way. She doesn’t want to get hurt again. And she isn’t sure she can love again. - Loves animals and often volunteers at the shelter - LOVES cats and wants one but considers herself too unstable to own a pet. - Hasn’t spoken to her parents since she left Atlanta and pretends it doesn’t bother her, but it does. - On her left side, Rose has a tattoo. It’s the quote “without struggle, there is no progress” in cursive writing. - Has lived in Atlanta, Chicago, Nashville, New Orleans, a few other places until she came back to Georgia and settled in Peaches Hollow.

Personality - Rose lives impulsively, acting first and thinking later. - She doesn’t hold back and certainly doesn’t censor herself. Rose is the most straightforward person around and she will tell you how it is, whether it hurts your feelings or not. - Fun is priority in her life. Having grown up so unloved and hidden away in her youth, she is desperately trying to fill that gap in her life. She will jump from club to club, party to party, a shot of tequila in her hands always. Mostly, she is afraid that if she stops, allows herself to feel, every heartache she has ever felt will coming rushing at her. - Attachments are a no go for her, especially romantic ones. She’s fine with hook-ups, in fact she rather enjoys them, but once she or her partner start to develop feelings, she flees. If you don’t let anyone close, you can never be hurt. - Losing Finley broke something inside of Rose and she’s very keen on not giving that part of herself way. She doesn’t know if she can love again or if she has any to give. Most of the time, however, Rose tends to develop friendships with her partners. She’s pretty laid back and goes with the flow which makes everything easier. - Rose is super protective of those she considers close to her and will do almost anything for them. - Once you get past her wit and sass, Rose is the sweetest person you would ever meet, even if she’s rough around the edges. But good luck getting her to open emotionally.

[santiagoswagger]

we were wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart

Flower shop AU | My contribution to @b99fandomevents 2019 Summer Fic Exchange, for the lovely @benwvatt! 

Amy has always been a planner. 

She received her first calendar when she was six years-old to keep track of her extracurricular activities, and her scheduling addiction arrived soon after. She needed organization to feel sane, normal, like her whole world wouldn’t crumble beneath her feet. Growing up in a house full of rowdy brothers, and now working in a job that is more unpredictable than not, the only thing she’s ever felt any semblance of control over is her calendar. 

But as she furiously clicks through page after page on Yelp in a haze of escalating panic, Amy curses her calendar for the very first time in her life. 

She forgot about Mother’s Day.

It’s not a total surprise, she supposes. She’d spent the last two weeks working to solve a high-profile kidnapping and there hadn’t been any room in her life for restful sleep or food that didn’t come from a vending machine, let alone time to buy her extraordinarily picky mother the perfect Mother’s Day present. 

It wasn’t until David (stupid David!) sent a reminder in the Santiago siblings’ text chain that Amy realized what a colossal mistake she had made in forgetting about the annual Santiago Mother’s Day brunch. Her heart began to palpitate faster than it did that time in college when she consumed an entire pot of coffee the night before her calculus final. That hadn’t ended well at all, but Amy refuses to let this day be a complete disaster. Not showing up to her parents’ house empty-handed is a good place to start.

Now, an hour after receiving David’s text, she’s frantically trying to find an acceptably rated flower shop somewhere in Brooklyn that is both open and taking new orders on such a busy day for the industry. Calls to three had so far dashed all of Amy’s hopes and dreams of one day seeing her photo proudly displayed on the family mantel, knocking David’s out of its place of honor.

She continues to scroll through Yelp until her cursor lands on one called Rachel’s Flowers with a promising four-star rating. Amy painstakingly scans through each review and the only negative one she can find is from a woman who two years previously said the cashier was “annoying beyond belief.” 

Glancing at the clock, Amy decides she would take a chatty cashier over a withering glare from Camila Santiago any day. Running out of time, she foregoes calling ahead and hopes that Rachel is the florist of her dreams. 

The shop is on a quaint, quiet block in Amy’s precinct. ‘Rachel’s Flowers’ is written in neat, green cursive above the brick facade. Its old-school charm is in sharp contrast to the hipster record store and vegan restaurant it’s sandwiched between, and Amy immediately loves it for its simplicity. Standing here is like stepping back in time. She wonders why she’s never come across it before, even in her days as a beat cop. 

She parks her car across the street and walks in, practically running into the line of last-minute shoppers, so long it’s practically out the door. Amy feels her blood pressure spike on the spot.

She walks quickly around the showroom to assess the ready-made bouquets so she can make a quick exit. They’re mostly made up of multi-colored carnations or pink roses, and they’re so beautifully arranged, but Amy can just picture her mother’s face if she were to gift her with any of these. Amy’s grandmother loved gardenias and white hydrangeas, a love Camila inherited; vases of them were always scattered around the Santiago home when Amy was growing up. Bringing her mother any other kind of flower won’t have the desired effect Amy’s going for. 

She waits in line for almost fifteen minutes, tapping her low heels on the ground with every passing second. Being late to brunch would almost be worse than showing up empty-handed, in Amy’s opinion. 

When Amy finally reaches the front of the line, she is greeted by a man she assumes is the chatty cashier from the Yelp review she read earlier. He’s handsome, with kind-looking eyes and a cute, lopsided grin, but his wrinkled flannel and sloppy curls don’t instill much confidence in her.  

“What can I do for you?” he smiles, big and warm. 

“I’m looking for a bouquet for my mom,” she says, trying valiantly to keep her growing anxiety at bay. “She’s really difficult to shop for. Do you have any white hydrangeas and gardenias?” 

“No, I’m sorry, we used most of our supply for custom orders. What you see out here is pretty much what we have left.” He just keeps smiling. Amy wants nothing more than to wipe the stupid smirk off his face. 

“You don’t have anything else in the back?” she asks desperately.

“Sorry, it’s a busy day.” To his credit, he looks apologetic. She can see the sympathy swimming in his eyes. Unfortunately for him, Santiagos never admit defeat. 

“Can I please speak with your manager or the florist?” she asks politely. 

He has the nerve to laugh. “Uh, I’m both.” 

Amy fights the urge to do a double-take. Her finely-honed observational skills spot a large, mysterious red stain on the sleeve of his flannel and she’s fairly certain he’s responsible for the Carly Rae Jepsen songs pumping through the shop’s speakers. How could this man be the one responsible for the delicate flower arrangements by the door?

Amy sighs deeply. “Look, I know this is probably one of the worst days of the year for you, but I forgot it was Mother’s Day and I don’t want my picture to move any further from the mantel than it already is. Can you please help me out and put something together that will at least moderately impress my picky and terrifying mother? I’m willing to pay whatever.” 

He looks thoughtful for a moment, crossing his arms and bringing his pointer finger up to stroke his chin. Amy figures he’s probably trying to figure out what she meant about the family mantel.

“Do 100 jumping jacks.” 

She’s completely caught off-guard. “Excuse me?” 

“You said you would pay whatever,” he smirks, looking entirely too proud of himself. 

She squints at his name tag, pinned to the collar of his haphazard shirt. “Look, Jake, I’m really not in the mood today.” She rummages through her bag to find her phone and look for another flower shop nearby. She’ll take a bouquet from a bodega at this point. 

In the chaos, her badge flies out and lands face-up on the cashier’s desk. Amy sees Jake’s eyes widen, and she can’t help but feel slightly vindicated. 

“You’re a cop?” he asks. 

“I am,” she says carefully. She can’t tell if he’s afraid or if another snarky comment is headed her way. 

“That’s so cool,” he says reverently, picking up her badge to inspect it with the utmost care. “I always wanted to be a cop.”

Amy eyebrow lifts involuntarily. It’s hard for her to imagine this goofy, messy-haired man as one of New York’s finest, but she can tell he’s being genuine by the pure excitement emanating from every part of him.

“It’s a pretty cool job,” she smiles as she takes it back from him. 

“What’s your favorite cop movie? It’s Die Hard, right? It has to be Die Hard!” His flailing hands punctuate every word. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen someone so worked up about Bruce Willis. 

“It’s Training Day, actually, but I suppose you’re entitled to your wrong opinion.” She’s not sure why she’s bantering with the florist, but there’s something so undeniably charming about him. 

“Denzel wishes,” he scoffs. Amy laughs, earning a surprised smile from Jake. 

He takes a second to look around the shop. There are a few stragglers milling around but it’s fairly empty.

“What’s your name?” he asks as he turns back to her.

“Amy,” she says, confused. 

He grins brightly. “Well, Amy, it looks like we’re in a bit of a lull. Let me take a look in the back and see what I can do for you.” 

Relief hits her like a swift punch to the stomach. “Thank you so much, Jake.” 

He nods, beaming, and heads to the back room. 

Amy takes the opportunity to look around now that the panic has died down somewhat. The black-and-white tile floor is covered in just enough scuffs to let Amy know it’s seen some things, as does the chipped green paint on the walls. The bouquets are so thoughtfully arranged and she can tell they were made with such care. Amy briefly wonders how a guy like Jake ended up here. 

“Aha!” she hears him exclaim from the back. 

Amy turns around as he walks back into the shop, sneakers squeaking against the tile as he brandishes a beautiful bouquet over his head.

She hurries over to take a closer look. Jake had grouped gardenias and hydrangeas together in a clear, modern vase, and he had tied the whole thing together with a single silver ribbon. It’s simple and elegant, and very Camila Santiago. 

“They’re beautiful,” she breathes. “I thought you didn’t have any gardenias and hydrangeas left?”

He moves to scratch the back of his neck. Amy swears she sees a hint of a blush spread across his cheeks but she quickly writes it off as a trick of the light. “I managed to find some leftover gardenias and then I remembered that this custom order of white hydrangeas was never picked up yesterday, so I just, you know, threw it together for you.” 

Amy has a sneaking feeling that he isn’t telling her the whole truth, but she appreciates it nonetheless. 

“Thank you, Jake,” she says genuinely. “You’re a lifesaver. My mom will love these.” 

“Eh, it’s no problem,” he says. “You just owe me a huge favor now.”

She barks out a laugh. “You’ve got it.” 

As he rings her up, Amy can’t help herself. “How did you become a florist? You wanted to be a cop, right?”

He chuckles. “I was in the academy when my nana got sick. This was her shop. I used to come here every day after school to help her with orders and I got pretty good at it. When she passed away, I couldn’t let them sell it, so I just kind of stayed and kept it running.” 

He shrugs it off. Amy is dumbfounded. 

“That’s really incredible, Jake.” 

“Surprisingly, being good with flowers does not help with the ladies,” he jokes, handing over her receipt. 

She takes it with a small smile. “Maybe it will one day.” 

He smiles softly back at her. “Yeah, maybe.” 

“Thanks again, Jake.” 

“No problem, Amy. I hope your thing with the mantel works out, whatever that is.” 

He waves as she walks out the door and she feels her stomach bottom out. Well, that’s new. 

Brunch goes better than Amy could have hoped. Camila doesn’t say much, but she purses her lips and places them on top of the grand piano in the living room - prime real estate in the Santiago household, even if no one in the family plays piano. Amy’s photo moves one spot closer to the center of the mantel. 

She knows she owes most of her success to Jake, so when she gets home she decides to thank him in the most sincere way she knows: a handwritten note. She pulls out the floral stationary she had custom-made with her new title when she made detective at the Nine-Nine and gets to writing. 

Jake, 

Thank you for all of your help today. My mom loved the flowers, and I owe it all to you. You really saved me. John McClane has nothing on you. 

Amy 

She reads it over and over until she decides to have mercy on herself and shoves it in the outgoing mail slot before she can drive herself any crazier. 

A few days go by and Amy’s nearly forgotten about the note when a man walks into the precinct holding a giant bouquet of red tulips. The splash of color isn’t something one tends to see in a Brooklyn police precinct, so he catches almost everyone’s eye right away - except Amy’s. 

She’s nearing the end of a large stack of paperwork, which she’s determined to get through before the morning briefing. She sees feet moving towards her out of the corner of her eye but she doesn’t think much of it until she hears someone clear their throat.

It’s Jake, the florist. 

“Hi,” he says, clearing his throat again. This time, she can detect his nerves. 

“Hi,” she says, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles easily. “I got your note. Very nice touch, by the way. I’m here to, uh, ask you to dinner.”

She raises her eyebrows, caught off-guard. 

He quickly deflates. “You have a boyfriend, don’t you? I knew it. I’m so sorry, Amy. I won’t bother you again.” 

It’s this grace in the face of defeat that makes Amy’s heart swell with sudden affection. He’s a complete stranger, but she instinctively knows he’s someone she can trust. “Jake, I’d love to go to dinner with you.” 

He smiles slowly. “You would? You’re single? Really?” 

She nods, grinning. “Yes, really.” 

The tips of his ears turn bright pink. “Okay, great. When should I pick you up?” 

Amy grabs a neon post-it note and scribbles her phone number and address. “Seven?” she asks, handing it back to him. 

He takes it, looking somewhat dazed, like he can’t quite believe his good luck. He gently sets the tulips down on her desk, careful not to disrupt her files. “Seven, it is. I’ll see you later, Amy.” 

“Bye, Jake,” she says, waving shyly as he heads for the elevator.  

Once he’s gone and she’s able to pull herself back down to earth, she steals a glance at the bouquet he’d brought her. The tulips are vibrant and beautiful, and full of promise. 

Later, when she kisses him for the first time, she takes in the floral scent that seems to follow him around and it feels like home.

[jazzman-19-blog]

Crazy Little Thing Called Life

A/N: ok but that gif tho, i am always down for soft Ben moments. And that’s exactly what you got in this chapter. This is the longest chapter yet I believe?? I don’t know but I hope you guys enjoy it! There is some of Ben’s POV in here for like a paragraph. Byeeee :]

~with lots of love, Jazzman~

Summary: A road trip/vacation between two old friends that turns into something more(basic plot but whateva)

Song: A Sky Full Of Stars by Coldplay

Pairing: Ben x reader

Word Count: 2247

Warnings: Fluff? maybe? yeah, fluff ;], language

If you would like to be added to the taglist, just ask! 

*Reblogs/asks/opinions are always appreciated* 

Ch. 3: Eyes Like The Stars

——————–

     The next couple days in Yuma were really fun. The first day you stopped by your grandma’s house and she was thrilled to see you but mostly towards Ben. He was like the grandson she never had. Literally. All of her children only had girls which meant she only ever had granddaughters. But Ben was close with your grandma and loved that woman to death. They probably had secrets they shared that you didn’t know about. You both hanged at her house all day. You guys made coffee, played Loteria, and even decided to stay for dinner since she begged for you to. Even though you weren’t planning on leaving anyways. You were there all day and talked about how everybody’s been and how your family was in Yuma. 

     It was starting to get late and you wanted to head over to your hotel before it got too dark. But before you and Ben started to head out, your grandma gave you guys a blanket each that she made for the two of you. Your blanket was a beautiful turquoise color with black cursive writing that said:

     “There is only one happiness in life- to love and to be loved”

     You were holding onto that blanket like there was no tomorrow. Your eyes started to swell with tears of joy. Your grandma always knew you had a passion for poetry, so she made you a blanket with your favorite colors and your favorite quote. That woman was going to be the death of you. You walked over to her and gave her the biggest hug you have ever given to anybody. You didn’t know what you would have done without her. You pulled back and wiped away your tears, even your grandma was crying at this point. But they were all tears of joy and happiness. As you all said your final goodbyes, you walked over and climbed into the passenger seat. The blanket sat on your lap as you made your way back to the hotel. You wanted to see Ben’s but he wouldn’t let you. All you knew was that it was black with bold, yellow writing. 

     The last day in Yuma was spent looking around the place. You and Ben had decided to stop by Lutes Casino to eat, weirdly for its name, it’s not actually a casino. You also stopped by the infamous Yuma Territorial Prison. It gave you creepy vibes so you wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. Ben on the other hand quite liked it, he liked spooky things. You stopped by the Ocean to Ocean bridge while you guys were at the prison. It was one of the first highway crossing of the lower Colorado river. 

     Yuma always amazes you with all of its history and interesting places to go and explore. People back home always talked about how there was nothing to do in Yuma but that wasn’t true. You loved the place and you had always visited with your family. Sometimes Ben would tag along, he knew this place like the back of his hand. He had a great memory unlike you, who always forgets everything. 

    Tomorrow, you and Ben had to start heading for San Diego except this time you made Ben drive. Of course if he got tired, you would step in and take the wheel. Right now though, you and Ben wanted to go and watch the stars. You both brought a blanket to lay on the ground, you had decided to go to Joe Henry Memorial Park. Luckily, it had an open grass area so you could see the night sky. It was around nine when you had got there and the stars were already out. Ben had found the perfect spot and set the blanket down. You also thought it was a good idea to bring pillows for comfort. Ben thought it was ridiculous but you brought him one anyways. He ended up using it too. 

    Now you and Ben were just laying there watching the night sky go by. It was relaxing to say the least. Even though the mystical night sky was mesmerizing and beautiful, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of the person next to you. Your best friend. The person you’ve known forever. He was absolutely gorgeous in the moonlight. Even in a sky full of stars, you found yourself only paying attention to him. His face just absolutely glowed and his hair, his perfect fucking hair, falling in all the right places. How did you just notice this about him? How perfect he was. Straightest jawline you’ve ever seen and perfect, oh so perfect, lips.

     You shook your head and turned back to the night sky. You didn’t love Ben for his looks like the other high school girls, you loved him for his wonderful personality. Your inner thoughts were screaming at you. You couldn’t be falling for your best friend now. You just couldn’t, you didn’t want to break that close bond you both had. It would break you. Shatter your heart into a million pieces from losing your best friend. But you wanted to give him all of your heart and you didn’t care if he teared you apart. Because you would love him anyways no matter what. You kept your feelings for him hidden, locked away, never to be seen again. At least until now. You hadn’t notice your heart was racing until Ben tapped you on your shoulder. 

     “Hey? Y/n? Love? You alright? I can hear your heart racing from here.” Ben sat up to make sure you were still conscious. 

     “Yeah I’m fine.” You said still looking at the sky.

     “Is something wrong? We can go back to-” You cut him off.

     “Yes Ben, everything’s okay,” You look up at him this time. Fuck. Those damn green eyes always killed you. “I just want a hug.” you blurt out.

     “Okay, could’ve just asked in the first place.” Ben said as he smiled at you. He laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You turned onto your side to face him and buried your face into his warm chest while you rested your hands on his chest too. How was he so warm when you were absolutely freezing. 

     “Better?”

     “Much better…” You whispered. Were you happy now even though you both have snuggled like this before? Absolutely. Were you ever going to let go? Hopefully not because you didn’t want to let go. You wanted to stay like this forever. 

     Sadly, you knew that it was getting late and you both had to be up and ready to go at noon. You looked up at Ben and could tell his eyes were drooping ever so slightly. 

     “Ben, come on, it’s late and we need to get back to the hotel.” You slipped one of your hands off his chest and started to slightly shake him. Ben grabbed onto your waist tighter than before and pulled you closer. 

     “Do we have to go? We can just lay here all night.” You liked the idea but you knew you were going to regret it in the morning. You slipped out of Ben’s grasp on your waist and sat up. Ben had mumbled something but you couldn’t hear him. This time you shook him violently.

     “Ben! Come on! We have to be up early in the morning,” He still didn’t budge. Instead he just rolled onto his other side with his back towards you. You stood up and sighed. You didn’t know what to do to get him up. “Benjamin Jones! Get up!” 

    “Fineeeeee.” He sat up and rubbed his eyes while groaning. You grabbed the two pillows and headed for the car. You grabbed the keys out of your back pocket and unlocked it before jumping into the driver’s seat and throwing the pillows in the back. You knew Ben wouldn’t be able to drive right now. You started the car and jumped back out to see where Ben was. He was nowhere to be found. You started to panic and kept calling out his name like he was a lost dog. But it was no use, you couldn’t find him. The blanket is gone too. You run back over to the car and headed to the back to get a flashlight. But before you do, Ben jumps from behind the SUV and nearly scares you to death. 

     “BEN!” You fall to your knees on the hard pavement and put your face in your hands while Ben is laughing. At least until he realizes your on the ground. 

     “Wait-” Ben crouches down to your level. “I didn’t mean to scare you that bad, I’m sorry”

     You don’t say anything. Ben is getting really worried that he scared you too much. But as you take your hands off of your face and look back up at him, he realizes that your not upset, your giggling. Which turned into full on laughter. Ben gets up.

      “Christ, Y/n! I thought I made you upset and you started crying!” Ben held out a hand for you to help you up. You grabbed it and pulled yourself up. You couldn’t stop laughing to speak so Ben just pushed you back into the direction of the driver’s seat. You climbed in as he got on the other side. You had stopped laughing at this point and your breathing had slowed down. Ben just sat there waiting for you to go.

     “So,” Ben looked over at you as you gripped onto the steering wheel and started to drive back to the hotel. “Did you hear what I mumbled back there?” You looked over at him.

     “No. Was it important?” He had decided to look in the other direction towards the window. 

     “No, it wasn’t. Just wondering was all.” And with that you both headed back to the hotel. Ben didn’t think it was important to you at least. But to him, it was a whole other story. He couldn’t believe the fact that he actually told you that he loved you. Even though you didn’t hear, he felt like you did. Thoughts kept racing through his head. What if you did hear but didn’t want to say anything so the topic wouldn’t have been brought up? What if you didn’t feel the same way? It was all just one-sided? It scared him to think of losing his best friend to his emotions. He didn’t want to lose you so he held it in these last few years. He didn’t know how to tell you or when. All he knew was that he loved you and couldn’t stand to see you with someone else. In high school, when you had break-ups, he would help you get through it but he was so happy you weren’t with them anymore. He thought maybe you could be his someday. That day never came though. At least not yet. When you asked him for a hug, he felt his heart explode. He instantly snuggled with you and didn’t want to let go. Earlier when you looked up at the sky, he could see how the moonlight made your eyes sparkle. You had eyes that shined like the stars above. How beautiful you looked just laying there, such a heavenly view. All he wanted to do was hold you in his arms and you let him. But sadly, it ended too quickly and now both of you were driving back to the hotel before heading off to Cali. 

     You both ended up safely back in the hotel room. You plopped on your bed, tired from all of the fun you had all day. You grabbed your clothes and changed in the bathroom. When you came out, Ben had already changed into some shorts and no shirt. God, he looked like he was sculpted by the Gods. He was in great shape from playing soccer so much. But that’s how he got his scholarship, all through soccer. You threw your clothes in the pile and crawled onto your bed, making sure your butt stuck out a bit for Ben to see. But too bad he had already went into the bathroom. 

     When he came out, you were snuggled in your blankets. For some reason, you were absolutely freezing. And Ben could tell. 

     “You alright Love?” Fuck. His accent made your stomach do somersault. He learned his accent from being around his parents so much. Of course you though, didn’t have an accent like your mom. You were more like your dad in every shape and form and were used to speaking without an accent. 

     “I’m okay, just freezing to death.” After you had said that you flipped onto your other side to face the wall. But before you knew it, Ben had slipped into your bed and wrapped his arm around your waist once more. At first you were tense, you didn’t expect Ben to crawl next to you but you weren’t complaining. You relaxed more as you got warmer from his touch. It made your heart fly. You slept together for the rest of the night. You could feel him breathing down your neck and you loved it. 

     Throughout the night, the space between the two of you got smaller and smaller until your back was right against his stomach. He made you so warm, inside and out. God, you loved this man, if only he knew how much.

———————–

Taglist: 

@luvborhap 

[sarareynolds]

Random Questions Part 1

1. What is your middle name?

Rose

2. Do you have any nicknames that aren’t derived from your actual name?

My dad calls me bug. Pretty much everyone else calls me Sara. Nik sometimes calls me dove. :) 

3. Do you have any allergies?

Nope. 

4. What is the longest your hair has ever been?

I don't even know I measured it in high school once and it was 22 inches… it's longer now. 

5. How well can you write in cursive?

Not very? My handwriting is the bastard child of standard and. Cursive.

6. Name one item on your bucket list.

I don't have a specific bucket list laid out in my head, I just know I want to soak up what the world has to offer like a greedy little sponge. So I guess travel? 

7. Have you ever been on a blind date?

I have not. 

8. What is the oldest piece of clothing you still wear and how old is it?

I have a black sweatshirt from when I was like 13. It's got holes from bad laundry cycles and just being old af but it's still comfy so I keep it. 

9. How often do you eat out at a fancy restaurant?

Not often, actually. 

10. How grammatically correct are you when you text?

More than most but it's still terrible grammar. 

11. Can you drive stick?

Yes?

12. What foreign country would you most like to visit and why?

Probably, Japan. It just looks like a friggin good time. Pokemon is a legit weakness I have and I would love to play real life Mario Kart. Outside of the Nintendo stuff the food looks amazing and the sites look beautiful. It's so different from everything I know it just seems like it's be an epic trip to have.

13. Nutella or peanut butter?

Both? You cannot have Nutella on everything it's way too sweet but peanut butter is also not really a go-to for me. 

14. At what age did you have your first kiss?

12 or 13?

15. DC or Marvel?

Unaligned? 

16. Have you ever hosted a wild party?

Yes. For better or worse, I have. 

17. Name/author of the last book you read cover to cover. Do you recommend it?

Um… I honestly don't know. I am the queen of starting a book, getting a quarter to half way in and never picking it up again because I moved onto another book. 

18. How many of your Facebook friends do you actually hang with?

I actually dislike Facebook like a lot. Do not use it.

19. Have you ever donated blood?

I have. Once. 

20. From 1-10, how much do you like decorating for holidays?

What holidays? Because generally it's a 1, I don't care, but if we're talking Halloween if I'm given half the chance I will go ham. Christmas gets second place because it's Christmas and it requires decor.

21. Coffee or tea?

Again: unaligned. I tend to have coffee in the morning and tea in the afternoon as a detox/pickup moment. 

22. What is your go-to Starbucks drink?

Venti Cold brew lite ice. Nitro cold brew has been finding its way in more than usual lately. Or a Venti iced tea/refresher. Simple and on ice is the go to for the most part.

23. Last show you binge watched?

Nailed it…. Stranger Things 3 is next.

24. Dogs or cats?

Neutral? I love dogs, they're so lovable but I have no issue with cats, I've found that if you don't care about them, they're pretty much going to leave you alone. If you love them: they don't like you, and if you hate them: they are all up on you. Cat 101 

25. Favorite animated Disney character?

Ariel. 

26. Have you ever cooked a big family meal by yourself?

Hahaha no. Omg that'd be terrible. I'd have to formally apologize to everyone who ate the food. 

27. Favorite winter activity?

Sitting inside by the fireplace curled up in a sweater just watching the flames with a tea. 

If we have to go outdoors, sledding is super fun. 

28. Have you ever butt dialed anyone?

In general, as a woman, I don't have butt pockets large enough to facilitate that problem. I have, however, boob dialed people. Which is worse, I think. 

29. Can you blow a bubble gum bubble?

I can but in general I try to stay away from gum. 

30. How early in the year do you start celebrating Christmas?

I do not do anything until the first of December. I do not like that Halloween goes away and Christmas is everywhere, but more accurately I probably don't really start until the second week of December. 

31. What emoji best describes your life right now?

😍🥰🤯🌎🎶♥️

32. Are you fluent in more than one language?

No, I am not. 

33. What is the longest you’ve ever kept a New Year’s resolution?

Last year I went ⅔ of the year before I gave up. 

34. Have you ever successfully been on a diet?

 Did you gain any of the weight back?

I am constantly in flux when it comes to weight, but in general I keep to my diet pretty well. I don't really keep to one thing and I'm not afraid to have cake if I want to, but trying to keep things balanced is always a goal. 

35. Are any of your grandparents still alive?

Yes, my grandparents on my dad's side are still in Seattle but I never really get to see them. 

36. How good are you at communicating through facial expressions? 

I give everything away with my facial expressions. EVERYTHING. Literally, no poker face on me.

37. Have you ever gotten a commercial jingle stuck in your head?

All the time. As a kid I would sing the jingles like they were the songs on the radio. Now I just do that in my head. Well, mostly.

38. Have you ever left a movie theater before the movie was over?

No, I haven't. 

39. Do you consider rapping singing?

No, rapping is rapping. It's still music but it's not singing. That's not to say a rapper can't sing, because most can and do, it's just different. 

40. Does your home have a fireplace?

It does. 

41. Favorite non-chocolate candy?

Skittles

42. If you could have only one superpower, what would you want and why?

I don't know. :/ Most super power things I can find some way to accomplish with magic. So I guess I technically already have a super power. But if I didn't, maybe fly? 

43. Have you ever locked your keys in your car?

No, I have not as I do not own a car. 

44. Do you listen to any religious music?

Not really. I can appreciate a good gospel song, though, I just don't seek it out. 

45. Do you drink soda? If so, which one is your favorite?

Not really but my go too is Dr. Pepper if I do indulge. 

46. What was your ACT score?

I never took that test. 

47. Rice or quinoa?

Rice.

48. From 1-10, how good of a driver do you consider yourself?

7? I don't drive often but I'm not going to kill anyone doing it. 

49. Do you like horror movies?

I do. 

50. How easily do you cry?

Not easily. It takes a bit to make me cry. 

[kpopthings]

Love Letters – one

genre: fluff, to all the boys i’ve loved before au

words: 1.8k

synopsis: Throughout my whole life I’ve only been in love with five boys; Na Jaemin from Summer Camp, Wong Yukhei a.k.a. Lucas from my foreign language class, Lee Taeyong from kindergarten, Seo Youngho a.k.a. Johnny who I tutored back in middle school, and Kim Dongyoung from when I use to be part of the band club.

a/n: a very very late birthday present from me to you guys!! thanks for all the support you’ve given me. here’s the first part of my new series, i hope you guys will like it ^^

masterlist

Hello, my name is y/n. Okay that introduction sucked but hey at least you know who I am. Anyways I'm a senior in high school, unadulterated, unbothered, and unnoticed. It's basically the cliché, just another antisocial girl conquering high school one day at a time. No one liked me, and I didn’t mind. Honestly, in my opinion I think the whole dating concept is a bit overrated. My friend always told me it was probably because I never dated before but at the same time I guess I just don’t see the appeal. Until the day it all came crashing down.

"I'm sorry, y/n" Jaehyun said, handing me an envelope with his name written in my cursive handwriting. Currently, we're standing by the parking lot of the school, the sea of students quickly dispersing, not paying any mind to me nor the person in front of me. "It'll just... never happen." He gave me one apologetic smile, giving me the envelope before stepping back. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," he put his index finger on his lips, indicating a sign of silence. With that, he walked away, leaving me dumbfounded with the letter tucked in my knuckles.

Holy shit... shit shit shit!

After doing another run over with the letter, I dashed to my friend, Chaeyoung's car. She owned a gray Buick LeSabre, a car handed down from her brother before he moved to college. As I entered the car, I was met with a wild grinned Chae. She bounced up giddily from her seat as she turned to me.

"How did it go? What did he want? Did he confess his undying love for you?" questions after questions, no one can stop Chaeyoung. I held up the pink envelope from my hand, causing her to gasp at the sight. "No..." she trailed off in disbelief. Seeing me in my slumped state, her gaze softened, "He rejected you, didn't he?"

I only nodded lazily, "I mean... I kind of expected it, him and his girlfriend are going well and let's be real, even if Jaehyun was a jock, he's not the kind that would fuck around with other girls."

"I wonder how he got the letter though?" she thought out loud. At that moment, my whole life seemed to flash in front of my eyes. Oh my god...

"Fuck my life." I whispered.

"No..." she trailed off. "You didn't, tell me you didn't!" By this point, the both of us are panicking. Once she saw my face become morbid, she already knew the answer. “You dumb bi-“

“God please don’t remind me,” I said exasperatedly, covering my face with my hands to hide my imminent shame. “Why does this happen to me?”

Another gasp left Chae’s lips, this time, one of excitement, like she just came up with the greatest idea ever. “What if it’s a sign?”

“Then it’s a pretty shitty sign if you ask me.” I deadpanned. She didn’t look amused.

“Let’s face it y/n, your love life is as interesting as watching paint dry.” She retorted, crossing her arms in front of her chest to emphasize her point. “Maybe this is the universe trying to tell you to get back out there.”

“By embarrassing me? I don’t think so.”

“Stop being such a baby and accept this, y/n.” Chaeyoung pressed further. “When was the last time you even saw half the guys you wrote letters to? How about that guy you spent kindergarten with? It’s been years, I’m a hundred percent sure he turned out being one hot meal.”

“You mean Taeyong? It’s been ages, what if he became gross after puberty?”

She rolled her eyes at me negativity, “you’re my friend, y/n. As your friend, I know what you like. And I am absolutely certain, this guy is good.”

“How do you know? It’s not like you’ve ever seen him.”

“You’re a handful, you know that?” she said, starting up the car before turning back to me again. “Well if Taeyong, or whatever his name is does turn out to be some piece of slob. Who’s to say the others won’t? The last time you saw two of them was like two years ago right? Before you guys moved here?”

This is what I liked about Chaeyoung, even though she becomes boy crazy sometimes, she’s one heck of an optimist. And for a pessimistic person like me, I liked to think that we balanced each other out. She was a hopeless romantic, I didn’t see the appeal to it. She changes crushes every week while I only had six. We were complete polar opposites but I guess that’s what make us… us.

Anyways, just like what she said, me and my family moved here. Originally, we’re from Seoul, back when I was a little kid, but then we moved to Busan when I turned six but then dad found a nice job back in Seoul. And now here I am. It was difficult- I had to say goodbye to pretty much everyone. And I had an exam in my Foreign Language Class and I had to study for it sooner than most kids which then led me to Lucas, 1/6 of the boys I wrote letters to, also the guy who tutored me and basically saved me from failing. He’s also the last crush I had before Jaehyun. The other four, well… let me tell you;

Throughout my whole life I've only been in love with five boys (plus one). Namely; Na Jaemin from Summer Camp (he looked really good while setting up a tent), Wong Yukhei a.k.a. Lucas from my foreign language class (the before mentioned person back in my old school), Lee Taeyong from kindergarten (he was one of the only nice boys in school so…), Seo Youngho a.k.a. Johnny who I tutored back in middle school (he looks cute with glasses especially when he looks confused), and Kim Dongyoung or Doyoung as what others call him, he’s from when I use to be part of the band club (again, back in my old school [he played the flute… amazingly if I may add]).

Now, I'm crushing on this guy, Jung Jaehyun, who's the captain of the school's basketball team. Normally, I don’t go for jocks but Jaehyun was just really… charming.

This might be weird, but I have a habit of writing love letters to them. Starting off with Taeyong, to which I wrote his letter back when I was five so it had like doodles and hearts all around the paper. The letter is still with me today with full stamps and everything, although I don't really update the addresses since come on, I'm not that obsessed. Although I did update it whenever we move since I have like this plan to mail them when I get married and I’ll just be like; “thank you for ignoring me all those years ago. I’m getting married!”

But now I guess that plan backfired, colossally. Not only do they know it’s from me, but now they know where I live. Fuck.

This is the story of how I fucked up astronomically, like huge. 

And now here I am.

“I knew you were stupid but I didn’t know you were that stupid.” Chaeyoung said bluntly, rounding up from a corner, her eyes firmly on the road ahead while her hand clutched the wheel.

“Stop reminding me!” I whined.

She giggled. “Okay, I’ll stop. But really, this is a sign- I’m willing to bet on it.” She gave me a small gesture of encouragement before returning back to the road.

“I just hope they didn’t get it.” I sighed out, my palms going down my cheeks to make an overly distorted look. “It’s like I’m in a bloody nightmare… I can feel my heart racing.” I pressed one of my hands to my chest, feeling the speeding rhythm as I felt my face feel hot.

“Hey,” Chaeyoung spoke up, placing her hand on my other hand. “Don’t worry about it okay? No matter what happens, I’m right here.”

I only nodded in reply.

Chaeyoung’s right, I shouldn’t worry about it. I mean, it’s not like one of them is going travel all the way to Seoul just to see me.

– Several Days Later –

“y/n, there’s a few mails for you!” my mom called out from downstairs. I placed my phone down on my nightstand before standing up from my bed. I was never a morning person. Somehow, I find it hard to fathom how there are people out there who can function swimmingly right after they wake up. In my experience, a lot of bad things happen to me during the mornings; falling down the stairs (this happened to me twice since we moved here), forgetting books (those important ones you need for classes), accidentally letting go of the laundry basket (this happens mostly during weekends), etc. literally everything that can go wrong, can go wrong for a person not functioning properly.

“Coming!” I yelled, putting on my fuzzy pink slippers before walking down the hall. Once I reached the bottom of the stairs, my mom handed me four envelopes.

“I didn’t know you were this popular,” she said.

“I didn’t know people still sends letters.” I retorted, making her scrunch her nose at me. Ironic, am I right?

My eyes travelled down the envelopes. Holy fuck

I rushed up to my room, grabbing my phone and typing a text to Chae.

y/n: [sent 10:40 am] BITCH WTF

y/n: [sent 10:40 am] BITCH WHAT THE FU –

chaeyoung: [sent 10:41 am] I’m coming over.

-

“I told you it was a sign.” She said, eyes going over the four letters sprawled on my desk. “Doyoung seem nice.” She handed me his letter.

Hi y/n!

Wow I didn’t know you felt that way about me… is my voice really that good? Honestly I never thought someone would say those stuff to me. I’m coming to Seoul in a few days maybe we could meet up? It would be nice if I get to see you again, it’s okay if you don’t want to tho… I understand.

“My money goes to him.” She added, reading another letter, Johnny’s. “Damn, they’re all coming here… for you! And only a few days ago you were saying about how this is a bloody nightmare.” She rolled her eyes, “now you have four admirers coming to see you! I feel like a proud mom.”

“It is turning into a nightmare.” I said matter of factly, plopping down my bed in complete distress.

“Stop being so negative y/n…” she sighed, placing the letters on my nightstand before laying down beside me. “You could always tell them to fuck off,” she suggested, “I’m sure they’ll understand.”

I chuckled softly at that. It felt nice to have Chae around, especially in this sudden inclination of boys in my life.

“y/n, there’s a boy here for you!”

Both me and Chaeyoung looked at each other, eyes wide like deers caught in headlights. The two of us sat up before rushing downstairs. An unfamiliar boy stood a bit awkwardly by the door, a small sheepish smile gracing his feature as he looked up at me.

“Hi y/n”

[animationnut]

Piece By Piece: Chapter 1

Fandom: Red vs. Blue Rating: T (to be safe) Summary: Platonic Soulmate AU. Grif spent most of his life without soulmarks. He tried to convince himself that he didn’t care. He had his sister. She was more than enough. After all, what were the odds he would find his soulmates in the army? Inspired by Magic in the Marks and In Screaming Color.

                                                   Next Chapter

Grif spent a lot of time at school through his youth. But the only information he retained from those years trapped at a desk was about soulmates and soulmarks. Every teacher he ever had never failed to tell him how important soulmarks were and how special it would be when he finally met his soulmates. He recalled distinctly that the singular form of the word, soulmate, was rarely ever mentioned.

There were two types of soulmates—platonic and romantic. Romantic soulmarks were names written in their handwriting. Platonic soulmarks were coloured handprints. It was considered shameful and pitiful to have only one coloured handprint or cursive name marking your body. That was also something seared into Grif’s memory.

Grif supposed he should have known something was off when he received his very first soulmark. It was a tiny yellow handprint, bright on the back of his right hand. It appeared when he was only a toddler, still not able to comprehend the meaning of soulmarks and what they represented. Soulmarks were meant to show up when he was twelve. Gaining a soulmark before or after was practically unheard of.

It was said you never forgot those moments when you met your soulmate. Though he was only a toddler, Grif remembered everything with a crystal clarity.

He was sitting on the couch in the cramped apartment he, his mother and his new baby sister shared. Their father was gone, as he often was, and it was difficult to tell when he would return home. Grif didn’t mind it when he was gone. There wasn’t as much shouting and his mother didn’t cry as much.

The open windows let in the Hawaiian ocean breeze from the beach across the way. He bounced on the cushions in excitement, pudgy arms reaching out eagerly when his mother entered the room. His mother’s plump face was exhausted, a scowl on her lips. She hardly ever smiled. In her arms was Kaikaiana.

She was wrapped in a fuzzy blue blanket, big brown eyes peeking about. Grif held her securely the instant she was set in his lap. His mother glanced at the watch strapped around her wrist, brow furrowing in agitation.

“Damn that useless babysitter! Dexter, watch your sister until she gets here. I can’t be late again.”

She swept out of the apartment without another word and Grif flinched as the door slammed shut behind her. Startled by the loud noise, Kaikaiana began to cry, wriggling her tiny body in distress. Grif cradled her close. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

He rested his hand gently on her chest and she rested her hand on top of his. There was a sudden tingling sensation and Grif jolted, eyes growing wide as strange emotions started to flow through him. Fear, confusion, and pure innocence and love thrummed through his own small body. She smelled sweetly of oranges, even though there was not a single one in the house.

There was an odd clicking sound and when his sister lifted her hand, there was a yellow mark left behind. Confused and a little bit scared, he looked at Kai, at the orange print that practically covered most of her tiny chest. Kai peeked up at him, her cries now soft coos.

His babysitter had been shocked when she finally arrived. Grif had peppered her with questions, trying to make sense of the weird sensations that had occurred somewhere deep within his chest. But the girl merely answered his questions with, “You’ll know when you’re older.”

When his mother returned home the next morning, she regarded them both with a tight-lipped expression before ignoring them for a couple of hours. It wasn’t until Grif started school did he realize why both his mother and his babysitter had stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. While it wasn’t unheard of to have your sibling as a soulmate, it was stated to be impossible to gain a soulmark before the age of twelve.

But Grif didn’t mind too much, not when he was in preschool and his classmates were gawking at the small yellow mark in awe and jealousy.

That was his first sign that something was not quite right. The second was when he hit the age of twelve and more coloured handprints spread across his body. He was standing in his bedroom, his shirt and pants hastily yanked off as various spots on his body tingled, like his teachers said would happen when his soulmarks appeared.

He waited eagerly, wondering just how many he would have. He watched as they appeared one by one. A maroon handprint on his lower back. A red handprint curling under his chin. An aquamarine handprint on his right shoulder. A pink handprint on his right hand. A dark blue handprint wrapping around his right forearm. A purple handprint on his right knee. A grey handprint smack in the middle of his stomach. A cyan handprint snaking around the side of his neck.

Grif could only stare, eyes wide and stunned. Nine soulmarks. He would have nine soulmarks in total. The idea made joy burst within him and he raced to show his sister. But the marks faded as quickly as they appeared, but Kaikaiana believed him. His mother, on the other hand, didn’t. She sent him to his room as punishment for making up stories. He didn’t eat that night.

As middle school and high school progressed, his peers would strut around proudly. They displayed the handprints and cursive writing on their bodies while Grif remained colourless, save for the yellow on his hand. Suddenly getting a soulmark as a toddler meant nothing. He was bullied relentlessly for having only one soulmate and no listened to him when he insisted he had nine. The days were hard, but he got through them. As much as he wanted to leave, Kai was in the same school and he needed to protect her.

Which, as Grif mused on later in his life, should have been his third warning sign. When Kai reached puberty, she too had nine soulmarks. Grif didn’t think too much of it, instead sharing in his sister’s joy as their mother cast them aside. He also didn’t put the dots together when Kai didn’t receive any soulmarks during her school years. They stuck together, taking the abuse with steel postures and sharp tongues.

As the years went on and their bodies remained blank, Grif grew sour and cynical. The world was playing a cruel joke and he didn’t appreciate it. He mostly forgot about his soulmarks by the time he was drafted into the military.

He didn’t need them, anyway. He had his sister, who was waiting for him at home. That’s all he would ever need.

[idletcwns]

light footsteps patter as a five year old ezra clifton makes his way across the hard wood floors of his bedroom. after a long day at kindergarten, the young tyke had napped most of the remnants of the afternoon away. the sun was now setting as the boy gazed out the window, the sky a conglomerate of vibrant pinks, reds, and oranges... however, his attention wasn’t on the sky. instead, his viridescent hues are fixed on a certain brown-haired boy playing in his backyard.

for as long as he could remembered, ezra had remembered his parents wouldn’t let him play with the boy next door, though he never understood why. the many times he’d asked to go over and play with him, his mother always told him firmly “ no. ” even when he questioned her, she never failed to rely on the infamous “ because i’m your mother and i said so ” bit. ezra couldn’t seem to understand what the harm could possibly be in playing with another kid could be. they seemed to have no problem with any other kid... in fact, they even encouraged him to at school, so it was all a mystery as to why he was forbidden to play with alistair — at least that’s what he thought his name was; that was what one of his friends at school who happened to be in his class told him.

footsteps approached little ezra’s bedroom, prompting the brunet to turn to face his mother. once again, the boy couldn’t resist asking to go play with alistair. there could be no harm in it, right ?

“ momma, ” the kid began, his arms wrapping around his mother’s leg, “ can i please go next door and play with alistair ? i did all my homework and cleaned my room. i think i should at least get to have some fun. ” his little arms were now crossed against his chest.

once again, his plans were brought to a dismal halt. “ it was too late. the sun’s already down, coração, ” she had said. “ besides, you’re not allowed to play with him anyways. don’t question me on this. ”

a sigh escaped the tiny boy’s lips as he climbed onto his bed. maybe one day he’d play with him on the playground at school. yes, that was it. he’d play with alistair at school. he’d bring his pokemon cards too, just in case the boy was interested in that. ezra was determined to be friends with him, even if his parents disapproved.

of course, the young boy never managed to do it, though he thought about it every day until he entered middle school.

his pencil tapped steadily against his desk as he attempted to focus on the lesson his geography teacher was teaching. though he was a good student, ezra didn’t seem to quite care about the climate of new england. hell, he’d been to new england, so why the hell did it matter, and why the hell was a whole lesson devoted to it ? ezra would never understand the inner-workings of the ms. sanderson’s mind, especially not in freshman geography.

rather than the foliage of vermont being on his mind, ezra opted to, instead, think about something else... red. alistair greendale always seemed to be on ezra’s mind, lingering in the back of his mind even during the tasks of the utmost importance. but he’d noticed that the boy must’ve dyed his hair over the summer because it was a bright ginger now. it was adorable, in ezra’s opinion, though he’s not sure he could say it out loud... no, he knows he could never say it out loud. surely if ezra dared to call him adorable, his ass would be pummeled in seconds, if not by alistair himself then by a nosy straight boy listening in.

ezra couldn’t admit it at the time, but he’d developed a small crush on the slightly younger boy long, long ago. every time he thought about alistair, he could feel his stomach drop as if he was on his favorite roller coaster at disney world. his notebooks, while mostly filled with color coded notes, even featured quite a number of doodles of alistair’s name or his initials alongside ezra’s encompassed in a heart. his notebook for more personal things, which was hidden under a loose floorboard in his bedroom, featured more doodles of that sort and writings — mainly ramblings but the occasional poem made an appearance too — about the ezra-declared “a greek god that graced an undeserving planet.”  

even now, he was staring at the boy when he should’ve been focusing on the presentation ms. anderson was babbling on about. it was embarrassing; they’d hardly ever spoken to each other... still, his eyes were glued onto him, captivated by the way alistair’s hands moved as he scribbled notes onto his paper, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, his voice when he spoke to his friends... he could go on and on for hours about the redhead, and he would internally, at least.

 ezra couldn’t even escape him in his sleep; he dreamed about him at the fewest once a week, and that was just what he could recall. he couldn’t count the number of times a dream that had gone awry somehow ended up wit alistair saving the day and sweeping him off his feet... how ridiculous did that sound ? alistair was probably straight; according to everyone around ezra, he was dating luna. he couldn’t help but be jealous of her, even if he didn’t really have any grounds to get upset.

his train of thought was interrupted by one of his soccer teammates and best friend alexander waved his hand in front of him. 

“ class is over, ez. hurry the hell up, i don’t wanna lose our table at lunch. you know the junior assholes like to steal it, ” he barked at him, but it went through one ear and out the other. the boy was still thinking about alistair, and he did for the rest of the day... in more ways than he ought to.

after two years of hard work, sweat, and a lot of running, ezra clifton had made the varisty soccer team, and he was already rising in the ranks, quickly becoming one of the coach’s favorite players. they practiced almost every day with the exception of thursdays and fridays — the latter which were saved for games. this was no exception the day the school was abuzz with rumors of a fight that had gone on earlier that day. usually, ezra didn’t give a damn about any fights that were going on in the school; he thought they were petty and a waste of time that could be spent learning... however, once he learned alistair greendale was involved, his demeanor changed. 

the team was gathered around in the locker room, watching videos from bystanders of the altercations. needless to say, ezra was proud of his man... well, in his mind, alistair was his man. 

“ so, uh, what caused all of that ? ” ezra inquired, not to anyone in particular, but he hoped that someone knew.

“ apparently, it was you, ” one of the seniors named jimmy answered.

“ me, how the hell did i start a fight i didn’t even know about ?? ” he shot backed, a puzzled look on his face.

“ word is that the other kid said somethin’ about you, and alistair just started hittin’ ‘im. ‘s all i know. ”

ezra couldn’t believe it... alistair hit someone over him ? he thought he was worth getting expelled ? well, okay, ezra figured that wasn’t too high on his priorities, but the thought of it made it seem romantic to him.

it was all he could think about on his drive home and as he was making his way into the house. somehow even his parents knew about because he heard them discussing it in the kitchen as he walked into the house. setting his keys on the table, their attention soon turned to him.

“ i don’t want you hanging out with that greendale kid, ezra, ” his father spoke firmly. “ that boy is nothing but trouble. ”

“ that’s not true, dad, and you know that. we’ve lived next to him for how many years, and he’s never given us any grief. i’ll hang out with him if want to, ” he retorted.

“ ezra warner clifton, you listen to your father... and don’t talk back to him, ” his mother snapped. “ meu deus, meu filho vai ser um encrenqueiro agora, ” she muttered under her breath.

“ não seja tão dramático, ” ezra grumbled before he was commanded to go to his room.

preferring to be alone, he spent the rest of his night in his room, only coming down to grab a snack every so often. most of his night was spent hunched over a piece of paper scrawling words over and over again. his trash can was filled with balls of paper from letters to alistair he’d deemed unacceptable for one reason or another, be it he didn’t like the way he crossed his t or he made a grammar error. he hadn’t even began a letter he was happy with until he saw the boy in his backyard. the light barely illuminated his face, but even from his window, ezra could make out the cut on the boy’s face. his stomach twisted as he had to look away from alistair for the first time in his life out of of sheer guilt. he did that. 

the ink start flowing as ezra finally began his perfect letter. every loop was perfect, every t crossed and i dotted. he’d even gone so far as to write the thing in cursive.

alistair,

i know we don’t speak at all, but i wanted to write you to let you know how much i admire you. you’re very courageous and never back down, and i think you are just phenomenal... but before i get too far into this letter, i want to say thank you, if the rumors are true that this whole fight started because of me. if that’s not true, well, please don’t continue on, or else i’ll look a fucking fool... excuse my language.

for more than seven years now, i’ve always been captivated by you, and i didn’t realize why until i was in the ninth grade, i think. i’m sure you’ve caught me staring at you across the lunchroom or classroom, and i know it’s absolutely rude to stare at people... but i can’t help it. you’re gorgeous, and i’ve developed a crush on you, i think. i guess i should keep that to myself, but something is telling me that you may like me too. i’m putting everything on the line here really to just write this. i’d never live this down if anyone on the team found out i was gay... but i think i can trust you from what i’ve observed these past few years of being in class together, like i know when your birthday is, what you drink at lunch everyday, what color pen you use most often... all that kind of stuff. god, i sound like a stalker, but i promise i’m not... i just really like you, and i hope you like me too... and if not, well, you can just throw this away, but please, don’t tell anyone. just pretend you didn’t ever read this part of the letter if that’s the case...

love, ezra

the next morning, ezra gave the letter sealed in an envelope to one of their mutual friends in his chemistry class... little did he know that the letter would never make it to a certain ginger-haired boy.

[doptimous]

Okay so here’s the next (and last) part of @grexigone ‘s asks. That was really fun. And now, I should focus on my maythe4 exchange. Yeah right. *cough*

what perfume do you wear? 

“Why do you have after-shave?”

“What?”

Jyn shows him the bottle then resumes her search until she finally gets the Bacta patch she was looking for. Cassian is still conscious but barely so she tries again to make him talk and what a better subject than the after-shave?

“Seriously, why the after-shave. I've never seen you shaved.”

She presses the patch on his belly and thankfully, the bleeding stops but he already has lost too much if the blue hue of his lips is telling her anything.

She opens the bottle and sniffs its contents. It's lighter than she would have thought with some citrus, and maybe a tinge of cardamom.

“Smells good.”

“Yeah? Well, you can keep it.”

His voice is dropping, just like his eyelids and Jyn tries to not panick.

“And what will I do with it?”

“Dunno. It's like perfume but with more ethanol, so you could make it burn or...”

“So you have it as a mean for emergency makeshift bomb? You could just have taken some booze, so at least, you could drink it. Seems more useful.”

His mouth quirks up and Jyn's spirit lifts up too.

“You're probably right but I prefer to look like a man who didn't bother to shave for a few days but will when he must than some kind of alcoholic.”

“But why...”

“Customs. I have it for keeping the appearance of a clean Imperial on vacations. And it was a present, so I kept it.”

The question of whom it was from burns her lips but she swallows it. Direct approach wouldn't work.

“And you're still giving it to me?”

It’s supposed to be just teasing but Cassian still rolls his eyes.

“'Cause it's from a pilot who thought it might help me to get laid. So good luck with that. Now, come, we have to go.”

Jyn helps him on his feet and just because she can, she says, “Well, since you asked so nicely...”

 what’s your go-to dance move when you’re alone?

First, it’s the left foot, then she pushes her whole weight down and strikes with her right leg swiftly. She rolls, bents her knees and puts both feet flat on the ground to get the right impulsion. Her whole body seems to wave before she crouches down again, takes support on her hands and strikes again, with both legs.

Then, it's a push-up, a jump and she's back on her feet to bend backward and Cassian is pretty sure something in her back might break but she manages to put both hands on the ground right behind her feet smoothly and her legs shoot up and turn and Jyn's flexibility shouldn't affect him the way it does.

He must have made a sound, maybe when he saw her back fold in half, because now she knows he's there, he's watching and she puts on a show and he can't stay or he'll do something he really shouldn't.

favourite quote? 

 “'Why be difficult, when with a bit of effort, you can be impossible?' was a quote from a famous Caridian poet and I couldn't help but thinking of you, Erso, each time I stumble upon it.”

“Why, thank you, General. I didn't know I could inspire poetry.”

Cassian takes her arm to drag her away before she can say anything more.

favourite self care routine(s)? 

The mission had been tiring, and even if they managed to escape without more than a few scratches, the civilian toll of their intervention was heavy. Cassian tried to prevent it but it was difficult to bomb several factories without any casualties. He tried to tell himself they were all part of the Empire, even if not in the military, but he knew the truth.

Sitting down on the bench at the back of the ship he forced his eyelids to shut down, his breath to slow down and his mind to settle but to no avail. He could still hear the scream of the workers who weren't able to flee when he set the alarms on.

Suddenly, something warm run up his lap and down his flank and he recognized the smell of powder and dust in her hair before her head fell heavily on his shoulder, her hand nearly on his hip.

“You really need to eat more cream, partner. You're all bony and sharp.”

“Sorry.”

“Don't be,” she said. And just like that, he knew just didn't speak about his body anymore.

Her head slid to his lap and her arm flexed so she could grip his thigh with both hands.

“I'm going to take a nap. Don't move.” she explained as if it wasn't obvious but Cassian was still thankful. With her right here, he too could catch some sleep.

 fuzzy socks or house slippers? 

She doesn't remember a lot of her home in Lah'mu but every time she was in front of a fireplace, she felt like going back in time, when she wasn't more than six years old and she watched the burning wood behind a heavy metallic grid.

Her hair was in braid, she had a tooka plush-toy and fuzzy socks inside wood clogs. She loved the clogs. They made a funny sound with each step she took and it was so foreign now to enjoy making sound when she walked that she had to shake her head.

Cassian's eye were immediately on her, a eyebrow raised in silent question but he didn't ask.

She smiled and shifted closer to him under the blanket.

“I remember,” she started, and he waited. He always waited and that was why she shared.

 what colour are your eyes? 

Of course, the right answer is obvious. His eyes are brown, the most common colour for a human and that's perfect because that way, he's not remarkable. His eyes, like his height, his frame, his overall look is average. But at the same time, his eyes are a very dark shade of brown that comes from his father's family, that is typical of the forester of the high land of Fest and Cassian is rather proud to have inherited of it. It's a reminder of where he came from and sometimes, he really needs it to not lose himself.

 what’s your favourite eye colour on others? 

He knows he shouldn't stare. For obvious reasons. First, it's rude. Second, he's exposing a weakness for anyone to see, even if he's safe in the lower mess of Home I. Three, she may be uncomfortable because of him and doesn't know how to tell him because they work together, they work well and she doesn't want to risk that.

Really, he should stop. But then she catches him and she smiles, small and playful and her eyes seem to brighten even more and he forgets his training, his instincts, everything and just smiles back.

favourite season? favourite weather?

The sound of the rain on the ship's roof is soothing and Jyn always likes to stay in the hold where it's the loudest. Cassian finds her there, lying on a blanket with her eyes closed when he goes to get his tools kit. He tries to be as less disruptive as he can but the panel squeaks when he closes it and he feels more than he sees Jyn tenses.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he passes by her before he moves to gangplank and goes outside. He barely makes it to the wing when he feels her beside him.

“You could have stayed inside,” he tells her as he starts working on the damage wires of their radio. Jyn sits next to him to give him the tools. She isn’t really useful but he’s glad for the company.

“It’s okay. I like the rain.”

“I know.”

Cassian focuses on his wiring, testing if he can manage to enhance their radio range but with the storm overhead, it is mainly useless. After a few more tries, he gives up and looks at Jyn, eyes closed again and facing the sky.

“Come on.“ He says taking her hand, “if you stay here, you’ll catch a cold.”

She smiles and shakes her head.

“It’s a summer storm, it’s not cold.”

Cassian sighs and puts his toolkit away.

“Beside,” Jyn adds with a smirk, “you could always warm me up.”

“So you follow me here just to have some pretext to get wet and-” By the look on her face, he knows he fall headfirst in her trap.

“You always get me wet, Captain, but you’re right. I shouldn’t keep all these dripping clothes on.”

She leads him back inside and since he’s pretty much dripping himself, well… it wouldn’t be right to catch a cold from a summer storm.

cheek, neck, or nose kisses? 

 Mostly, she does it with kids. When she wants to reassure them, when she leaves them for the night, when she says goodbye. She nuzzles their nose and puts a light kiss on the tip on it before patting their head. Cassian doesn’t really get it but the kids always beam at her and he knows she isn’t really one for a hug.

Then one day, he sees her kiss Bodhi on the cheek and he feels like ice has started to grow in his stomach because the gesture seems so intimate, so natural, so... he sighs and hides his bitterness in his mug of tea. But he must have been too late because she comes to him and pecks his nose quickly and tells him so low he isn't really sure it's real,

“Don't worry, Cassian, you're still my favorite.”

If he hadn't been trained for year to control his body's reaction, he's pretty sure he would have blush.

what does your happy place look like? 

By the look on his face, Jyn knew something bad happened and she knew him long enough by now to not ask. She led him to his quarters, helped him remove his jacket and his boots and put him on his bunk.

There, she laid down beside him and took her datapad to find something to read. At first, he didn't really move or acknowledged what she was doing but after some time, he turned to her, put his head on her shoulder and listened to her voice.

Jyn's fingers raked through his hair as she read and sometimes, she swore she felt him purr but maybe it was just a very light kind of snore. Anyway, he seemed maybe not happy, but content. At peace. And that's all she could ask for.

 favourite breed of dog cat?

 The hound was huge, especially compared to the petite form of Jyn but she wasn't afraid the slightest. When he put his gigantic paws on her shoulders, he really dwarfed her but she smiled at him and scratched his neck like he were just another of her stray cats and Cassian wondered if there's any kind of predator, the Imperial nutjob aside, who could resist her, least impress her.

 cursive or print? 

 “I left school before I really knew how to read. I learnt to recognize a few words, mostly in print and to write my name.”

Cassian shows her how he traced his letters, forming arabesques in the sand.

“That's not...”

“Not aurebesh, no. Basic isn't the first language on Fest, so that's not how I learnt to write.”

His demure smile is a bit sad and Jyn takes his hand.

“Teach me,” she asks with a shy smile. “So we can write our names in your language too.”

Cassian hesitates and shakes his head.

“I'm not sure I remember all the letters for your name.”

Jyn shrugs. “Doesn't matter. Just teach me what you can.”

 do you ever want to be married? if so, what colours would you pick for your wedding theme? 

The mess was bustling with the joyful chatter of the soldiers all gather around their favorite pilot lady, cradling her new born. Shara looked happy but also very tired and that was probably why Jyn swallowed her rebuff at her personal questions and let her friend go maybe too far.

“A wedding theme? What the hell is that?”

Shara blinked but didn't have time to answer. Clearly Jyn's patience was running too thin now and she added, “I don't know what you think marriage is, or maybe it's some kind of cultural nonsense I never heard of, but seriously! A wedding is just a contract. It's just a way to tell some local authority you're in a relationship with someone. You don't need a theme for that!”

“Well, you're not wrong but that's not just...”

“Yeah, right.” Jyn's voice was dripping with sarcasm but she added anyway, “It's also a good way to learn who should inherit your stuff first and I suppose, since we're at war, it has its importance but that's pretty stupid because my boots won't fit.”

“Won't fit whom?” Shara's grin was way too pleased and Jyn had to roll her eyes at her.

“Oh come on, girl! You have to say it now. And if you won't, I will.”

The pilot turned her head and caught the eye of Cassian who was blissfully silent as he watched her quietly.

“Are you ready to pop the big question, Captain? See, she's not opposed to the idea.”

“To let me have her boots? That's nice, but she's right, they won't fit me. And I don't have any question to ask, Shara.”

He smiled, slow and easy, and without even looking at Jyn, he said, “If she wanted to get married, it would be done. But that's for her to ask.”

“Yep,” Jyn confirmed with a grin. “We're both from very matriarchal world. So, when I want a contract, because I have something to share, not just boots to leave, we'll get married.”

“In the meantime, we're just happy to stay alive. Don't worry for us.”

[chxronica]

anywho heres my new cheronica fic lmao 

words: like a little over 1800

pairing: cheryl x veronic (cheronica for life of course)

summary: legit just that soulmate au where you write something on your skin and the other person can see it

a/n: legit it dont know where this came from but i may or may not continue and you can find it on ao3 here

Cheryl looks sadly as she glances over her body. It had officially been seventeen years without a single mark on her body from her soulmate. Seventeen years without any hope of knowing someone out there will love her no matter what, even with every bit of broken she was.

Growing up she had always thought that just maybe her soulmate’s parents had rules about communicating to his soulmate. After all her parents had rules and other parents in this town also had rules, but for most part parents let their children start communicating around sixteen. Yet there was still no word from her soulmate. None. Absolutely nothing.

Climbing out of bed Cheryl stumbles into the bathroom to take a shower. She wasn't going to let this get her down on her birthday. She strips out of her slightly crumpled pajamas and turns the water on.

She stares at herself in the mirror scanning her body for even the slightest mark, something to show she had a soulmate. She finds nothing, or that was until she turned around and she spotted the messy handwriting on her shoulder. Examining it closely she frowns as she figures out what it say, “She loves me not you.”

Standing there in shock Cheryl's eyes only focus on the “She” part of the message yet to take in the rest of it. Her soulmate was a girl. A woman. Someone of the same gender. “This can't be happening, there's no way that he’s a girl.” She continues to stare at the messy writing and tries to read the rest.

“And she'll never love me.” She didn't believe that her soulmate was a woman but she could so easily believe that her soulmate will never love her back.

Cheryl steps into the shower turning the water from freezing to burning. She knows she can't do anything to erase the words from her back but she can try. She can try and remove yet another reminder that she isn't love and that she will never be loved.

The steaming water burns as it hits her body, but she doesn't pay attention as she tries to stop the tears rolling down her cheeks and mixing with the hot water. Despite her efforts she gives up and lets the tears out as she sobs in the shower. Of all the days this could happen it has to be the day that she's suppose to be the happiest on.

Cheryl gives up entirely and leans against the shower wall and slowly slides down until her forehead meets her knees. This isn't the first time that Cheryl has broken down in the shower but this time it feels like everything inside her snapped, instead of the usual small bits of her coming down.

Managing to calm herself down Cheryl stands back up and turns off the scolding hot water. She stands there for a few minutes letting the water drip of her bright red skin. It takes the cold air finally hitting her to pull her out of staring into emptiness.

She grabs a towel and wraps it around herself, the words briefly showing themselves in the mirror as she does so. Not wanting to see them anymore Cheryl quickly makes her way back to her room. She doesn't have to worry about the mirror in her room that was currently covered up.

Roughly closing the bathroom door behind her Cheryl lets her towel drop as she walks over to her closet. She smiles for the first time that morning as she looks at the outfit she had picked out the night before.

She slips into the outfit and uncovers the mirror in her room, admiring herself. Just because someone finally confirmed the she’ll never be loved does not mean that she's going to let it get her down the whole day. She was an expert in suppressing emotions after all, this was just the same thing.

There's a knock on her door and almost immediately after Cheryl allows them to come in. She only does this for one person, Jason, and she always knows it him from his knock.

“I knew that when I woke up to an outfit on my door it was you and your matching outfits.” He smiles at her and sits on his sister's bed.

Cheryl shrugs slightly and gives him a small smile. “Twins on their birthday aren't complete without matching outfits.” She quotes their Nana who had been matching their outfits on their birthday since they were young.

“She hasn't picked out outfits for years.” Jason lightly shoves her as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

Sighing Cheryl glares at her twin. “Appreciate the tradition, JJ.”

“If I must.” He stands up and offers a hand go sister so that they can walk down to breakfast together. Cheryl takes his hand and they walks down the stairs to be confronted by their Nana.

“Always matching you two,” Nana Rose says gleefully and Cheryl grins at her and hen glares at Jason. Even blind Nana could always when they were matching or where they were going.

“We have to keep the tradition going.” Cheryl grins grows. Her Nana and JJ were they only ones who could make her smile this big without her forcing herself to.

“I can tell. Now, you two go eat before you're late for school.”

Cheryl drags Jason into the dining room not expecting her parents to be there. She frowns as Penelope and Clifford grin up at Jason and wish him a happy birthday telling him they had the cooks make his favourite.

Her frown grows as she looks at the meat filled breakfast and then she looks back up. “You know that I'm a vegetarian right?”

Clifford looks up from the newspaper he had went back to reading. “Honey stop making stuff up to get attention on your brothers big day.”

Cheryl groans and glares angrily at her father but chooses not to say anything. Jason gives her a sympathetic smile and offers her his eggs so that she could at least eat something.

“Thank you,” she replies softly as she pokes her eggs with a fork. She just has to remember that you have to eat at least once a day and that she can't keep starving herself.

What must be only thirty minutes feels like hours to Cheryl as they eat breakfast, her parents constantly checking up on Jason but ignoring every word that she says. The thing is Cheryl is use to it but it still stings a little more whenever this happens.

Excusing herself from the table Cheryl grabs her bag and heads out to the car. She fiddles with her phone replying to a few text from her ‘minions’ as she waits for Jason. When Jason gets into the car he offers her a smile but Cheryl just looks the other direction.

The car ride is spent in silence as Cheryl's mind begins to wonder toward the incident from this morning. She forces herself to focus on something but she still doesn't want to talk so Jason it out of the picture.

Grabbing a pen from her purse she begins to doodle on her forearm. If her soulmate was going to treat her like shit he, no she, should at least know there's another person connected to her.

Once at school Cheryl caps the pen and pulls her sleeve over the doodles. She gets out of the car and plasters on her cold smile as she harshly closes the door behind her. In all honesty it felt like one of those movie montages that you see in all the high school drama with the misfit group of people. And sure enough, just like the movies, there's Betty and her gang glaring, or what she assumes is their version of it, at her.

Chuckling Cheryl gives them a polite little waves and continues on her way, not paying attention to the new girl with them. She struts down the hall and into her first period class making sure everyone knew that she has arrived at school.

During class Cheryl pulls up her sleeve not paying attention to whatever her English teacher was droning on about the author's meaning this time. She continues her previous doodle, a burning bush, until she notices something. A neatly written out message. “I am so so so sorry about whatever Charles wrote.”

Cheryl glares at the writing and pushes the point of her into the notebook in front of her. Her soulmate can act like they don't know what this Charles wrote but she won't but it. “Apology not accepted.” She writes out in the neat cursive she had been using for years.

She doesn't wait for a reply but instead rolls her sleeve back down and tries to pay attention to the whatever the teacher was trying to say. It didn't really matter whether the orange house scheme meant anything. Giving up on that distraction she keeps her ears open for any new gossip.

She hears an especially juicy bit of gossip and it takes her until lunch to collect all the information she needs. Cheryl scans the lunch table for the new raven haired girl she has heard so much about. She grins and makes her way towards the group of misfits sitting at one of the table.

Cheryl takes a seat in front of the girl and sweeps her ginger hair to the side. She gives the girl a sweet smile as she does so. “You must be Veronica Lodge I've heard so much about you.”

Veronica gives her a funny look and nods her head looking at the blonde headed bimbo, Betty Cooper. “Don't worry they're all good things...mostly,” she continues realising that no one else is going to talk.

Veronica nods again and Betty jumps into the conversation. “Just says whatever you're going to say.”

Cheryl gives her a obvious fake smile and then focus her attention back to Veronica. “As I was saying you should come to tryouts for the River Vixens.”

“Only if Betty can come too.” Veronica is quick to answer and Cheryl shoot a disgusted look at the blonde.

“The bimbo can come too.” Cheryl rolls her eyes and stands up from the table, noticing a small doodle on Veronica’s wrist. One that looks exactly like the one she had been working on earlier.

“But I can't guarantee she'll make the team.” Cheryl gives one last smile before leaving them group behind. Now, that she knows who her soulmate is doesn't mean that she has to tell her. In fact, she can have a little fun with what's to come.

“Veronica Lodge you broke the wrong girl’s heart.” Cheryl grins mischievously and sits down across from Jason at the table he was already sat at.

[domokunrainbowkinz]

ASK MEME ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

I was tagged by @sinkingorswimming!!! i should be sleeping!!!! lmaoooo

1. How many works in progress do you currently have?

lmaooo uhhh let’s see:

on ao3: HP au, vigilante au, uni au, demon/exorcist au, powered superhero au

currently in progress: VBB fic (i know it’s fuckin hella overdue), accidental marriage (i was gonna do this for bboi but i dropped out), time travel/royalty, percy jackson AU, selkie/artist au, moon deity au (it’s gonna be a comic bc i love to kill myself and die ahaha :’D)

2. Do you/would you write fan fiction?

once upon a time i would’ve said fuck no but here i am like the loser i am *finger guns*

3. Do you prefer paper books or ebooks?

paper books! my eyes hurt after looking at a screen for too long and i like feeling an actual book in my hands...i haven’t been reading many books lately though

4. When did you start writing?

I’ve started writing ever since i was in kindergarten really. I used to make short stories and draw pictures to go with them, because i’ve always loved drawing :P but i stopped writing for a few years in high school because i haven’t had the time and also lost some inspiration for original stuff i was writing, and i didn’t pick it back up fully until last year when i posted my first fanfic (thanks yoi <3)

5. Do you have someone you trust that you share your work with?

i’m very self conscious about my unfinished work tbh so i never share anything with anyone until i post it. but i’ll sometimes ask for help or ideas in the discord chats that i’m in.

6. Where is your favourite place to write?

at home, or maybe a cafe. i have a weird thing about writing in public, again with the self-consciousness thing that i REALLY need to get over a;ldkjfsdkj

7. Favourite childhood book?

call me a basic binch but it’s harry potter. all of them.

8. Writing for fun or writing for publication?

mostly for fun, but i do have some original stuff that i’d like to publish one day.

9. Pen and paper or computer?

defs computer, gets words out a lot faster. i tend to think faster than i write, which results in messy cursive :P

10. Have you ever taken any writing classes?

nope, never taken one in my life! unless english class in high school counted, analysing different works did make me be more mindful about how i write things.

11. What inspires you to write?

honestly, anything and everything, ranging from my sleep-deprived feelings after taking an exam to seeing a weird video on tumblr. the shower is a great place to come up with random ass ideas :P 

tagging @grayclouds, @omgkatsudonplease, @red-heather, @cary-onmywaywardson, @vityanikiforova, and anyone else who wants to do this :P

[elsewhereuniversity]

Sarah knocked on the door of room 107 and then wondered if the girls inside knew what a knock meant. Or if she could even call the things inside the room girls. Probably not, all things considered.

But one of them shouted “Come in!” and so Sarah did.

After a second, she managed to say, “I like what you’ve done to the place.”

Here was the thing about changelings: one of them alone would usually try very hard to mimic the person they’d replaced. Two of them apparently didn’t give a collective fuck. When the banshee of Kappa Alpha Omega had begun screaming the Wednesday before last, the sorority had gotten together to say the customary uncertain goodbyes. But no one had expected Tiffany and Payback to disappear. Their replacements had apparently made the most of the shared room.

One bed had been lofted almost to the ceiling. Sarah could see Not-Tiffany’s pretty pale face peering curiously down from the six inches between the mattress and the ceiling. The other bed had been raised just high enough to create a cave of sorts below it, brightly-patterned blankets draped over the sides to protect the inhabitant from the light. Several hundred small, jewel-like birds whirled around the room and settled again like leaves in a draft. The window was wide open, but despite the snow outside, the room held a baking reptilian heat that smelled papery and ancient. Pink ivy bloomed from the beige plaster of the walls. In the center of the room, the solid school desks had been overturned and stacked on top of the wardrobes, creating a hazardous wooden tower stuffed with what looked like about three hundred jumbo bags of Skittles.

In comparison, the floor was a glossy unmarred ivory, with the exception of one corner. Sarah could make out two expensive laptops, a tangle of miscellaneous electronics, a stack of notebooks, and a pair of sad mittens, one of which had the thumb chewed mostly off.

Not-Tiffany didn’t move or blink as Sarah gingerly shut the door behind her, but the blanket cave rustled, and then Not-Payback crawled out.

Tiffany, as far as Sarah could tell, still appeared mostly human. Not-Payback, on the other hand, wasn’t making an effort at all. Her cheekbones, her pelvis, and her shoulder blades all stretched winglike and obscene, pulling the salon-tanned skin taut. Payback’s hair had been painstakingly straightened and just brushing her shoulders; Not-Payback was hallowed by a wild, tangled mess that would have reached her knees if she straightened to her full, considerable height. Each of her eight fingers seemed to have several knuckles too many. Sara dug her hand into her pocket to grab her lucky Eiffel tower keychain and hoped this wasn’t a mistake.

“Sarah Sarah Sarah Sarah Sarah Sarah,” Not-Payback chanted. She seemed prepared to continue indefinitely, but Not-Tiffany broke in with, “What do you seek?”

“I wanted to ask if you needed me to type for you,” Sarah said. The last time a KAO changeling had touched a laptop with bare hands, it had shorted out the changeling’s glamour for a few terrible, eyeball-filled seconds. The laptop had no longer needed a power source, but it had also replaced every instance of the letter ‘a’ with ‘YOUR TRUE LOVE IS ALREADY DEAD’. Sweetheart had taken a lifting weight to it on day three. Sarah continued, “If you wrote out your assignments on paper, I could transcribe them for you onto the computer and email them where you need me to.”

Not-Payback stilled, candy-colored birds settling in her hair like flower petals. Not-Tiffany’s head asked, “Freely given?”

Sarah smiled, and then hoped that was the right thing to do. “Of course not.”

There was silence for a moment, still and suffocating. Then Not-Payback burst into such peals of laughter that the tiny birds scattered. “Sisters!” she shrieked, “Sisters, sisters, family we…”

“Birds of a feather,” Not-Tiffany said wryly, which sent Not-Payback into fresh waves of hilarity. In a movement so extremely inhuman that Sarah’s eyes clipped it from her immediate memory, Tiffany slithered free, freefell to the floor eight feet below, and landed like a cat. “Like to like to like, a bond not of blood but of kay ay oh…” Not-Tiffany smiled. She was close enough that Sarah could see that her pretty coral-colored top lip had three sharp points upwards, rather than the typical cupid’s bow two. It was distracting enough that it took Sarah another moment to realize that Not-Tiffany had apparently dispensed with clothes entirely, opting instead do drape herself with seven or eight different scarves of varying opacities.

“What do you want, little sister?” asked Not-Tiffany, when Not-Payback had finally subsided enough for a conversation to be audible.

Sarah asked, “What’s it worth to you?”

“A fistful of moonshine!” shouted Not-Payback gleefully from the floor, where she’d pulled herself crosslegged beside the looming Skittles Tower. “A goblet that never empties! The heart of Trevor from Biology!”

Sarah colored.  Not-Tiffany, who seemed to be at least be making an effort, added, “The best prom dress. And a red car. And…” A thin line formed between her perfect brows. “Friendly diamonds?”

“Someone showed you how to use the TV remote, didn’t they,” Sarah said. “Nah, I just want luck. That’s all. I want to know that every time I lean on chance, it’s going to turn out in my favor.”

Another burst of laughter from Not-Payback, who began to clutch at her ankles and rock back and forth. Not-Tiffany sank onto her haunches, staring up at Sarah unblinking. “That is worth more than a scribe, little sister. You are asking for certainty. You would need to give us more, for certainty.”

“I like your eyes!” sang Not-Payback. Under the circumstances, it was unnecessarily ominous. Sarah backpedaled.

“Just good odds, then. The best odds you can give me. What would that be?”

Not-Tiffany shrugged. “Good. They would be good. Not certain, but good.”

“Mm. Okay. And…” Sarah hesitated. She didn’t want to be rude, but there was also a real and present danger in failing to clarify. “And we’re striking this with the understanding that we each honor the spirit of the deal, not just the letter of it.”

“Small sweet sister!” Not-Payback crooned, beaming. She seemed to have fused all her teeth together into one awful blunt-edged arc. “Sweet sister ours. You ask your sisters this?”

“You haven’t known many sisters, if you have to ask,” said Sarah drily. “Look, I just want to be clear that if you try to be clever, than I will too. And that would be an issue because…” Three steps brought her to the stack of notebooks in the corner. She scooped up four and flipped through them rapidfire. “Because one of you spells like you’re a contemporary of Chaucer, you see. And the other one clearly learned the Latin alphabet like… yesterday? So. If we all play nice I’ll spellcheck it for you. If not, I’ll transcribe it flawlessly.” Sarah stared down at the cramped cursive running erratically across the lined paper. It would take more time to modernize this than her two campus jobs could afford. She said slowly, “Also, I want fifty dollars per double-typed page. And real money! Not the stuff you bring from Underhill, the stuff that turns back to leaves in the sunlight. None of that shit.”

Not-Tiffany’s face soured, but delight shone on Not-Payback’s distorted features. She hummed tunelessly for a second and then said, “A deal for you! A deal for our darling brilliant Sarah! Oh, I like you, little bird. An trusting deal for our untrusting sister!”

Not-Tiffany cocked her head to one side and then to the other, like she was trying to see out of eyes that should be wider apart than they were. “For faithfully transcribing our writings to the electrics,” she said warily, “You shall have fifty real authentic human dollars for each page, and luck that is on your side eight times out of nine. A deal we will honor as intended, provided you do the same. Is this acceptable?”

“It is,” Sarah said stiffly.

Not-Tiffany nodded, extraordinarily businesslike for a socialite in about eight layers of rapidly-unspooling gauze. “It begins. I will pass my thoughts about Henry Wifekiller under your door once I have consigned them to paper.”

“Mine’s done,” Not-Payback said happily. “Poor poor poor green light man could have had so much if only he’d gotten a boat and just gone across the water. You’re crushing it,” she added, vaguely accusatory.

Sarah hastily straightened out the essay on The Great Gatsby. “I’ll get a start on that now,” she promised. “Due Friday, right?”

“The free day,” agreed Not-Payback seriously. “Important. Good for love.”

“Right. Cool. I’ll have it done by then.”

By this point Not-Tiffany had returned to her perch, moving like an animation missing some frames. Her voice drifted down from the shadowy gap between bed and ceiling. “This is a very good deal. It is a generous deal, when you know how much we could have given you for this kindness. Why such a low price?”

Sarah paused in the doorway. “Well,” she said, and allows herself a wide smile of her own. “We’re sisters, you know.”

The true Payback and Tiffany made their way back to campus a week before spring break, travel-worn and significantly more muscular. Payback held a sword almost as tall as she was. Tiffany was glittering with violet gemstones. They seemed quietly, smugly self-satisfied.

There was a tense moment in the lobby when they faced down their replacements. Not-Tiffany had remained a perfect mirror for months, bar the lip thing; Not-Payback was by then a coatrack of bones and gauzy skin, three seven-knuckled fingers to each hand. But then Not-Payback broke the silence with laughter, bright and raucous, and Not-Tiffany took her elbow, bowed her head to the originals, and guided Not-Payback out of the Kappa Alpha Omega house for the last time.

Sarah, who by then almost six thousand dollars richer and doing really well on multiple choice tests lately, waved goodbye until they had disappeared from sight.

[cosmosogler]

hello i am here. i took a break from pokemon today except to check up on the pelago for about two minutes while i was waiting at the doctor’s office. and i guess i’ll do the daily stuff in fifteen minutes.

i have been having weeeeird dreams again. i think it’s the birth control... i very rarely have dreams like that when i’m NOT on birth control. it involved me watching a let’s play of sonic adventure 2′s two-player thing and the players couldn’t figure out what to do despite the directions showing up on the screen. i wanted to scream. 

then i was looking at sky scrapers. i recognize them in retrospect - they’re in the Big City. i am not usually up that high to see the top of the buildings. there was a family-owned sub sandwich place with a big sign that read “We Cater!” in yellow cursive. it was on top of a radio tower. i mistook it for a billboard until i leaned over and saw the counter with the meat and bread and stuff. there was absolutely no room for a kitchen or tables and the restaurant, or room, was about 10 by 10 feet with glass walls and the sign over the door. i asked “how did this happen?” out loud and then i woke up.

the early part of the dream was me wandering around in the fog on a dock that was also a college campus. i had to get an ark down from the mountain. because i needed more bible symbolism in my dreams? there was some kind of party going on, because every now and then people would appear from the fog wearing bright colors and carrying balloons and prize bags and kazoos and stuff. i think they spoke simlish, or something i didn’t understand very well. i ended up getting the ark down by doing a weird optical illusion thing. i was standing far away from it, so it looked small, so i just picked up the small ark between my thumb and finger and put it in the river. then when i got close it was big again. i think that’s where they were playing the video games. it was in a wooden room at least.

the thing that makes these dreams weird is that they are even more disorienting and mashed together than usual. generally there’s some kind of theme connecting my dreams, like the colors or mood or some phrase or motivation. or i will deliberately try to leave one dream if i don’t like it, and once i leave i forget what i was doing and have the new dream. there’s nothing particularly sexual or anything in these dreams, as you can see, but :/

i don’t like it at all.

i felt that disorientation all morning. the shower was a haze, and right after i washed my hair i couldn’t remember if i’d washed my hair yet or not. there was still soap in my hair so i figured it out. when i left to drive to the doctor’s i forgot the garage door was broken. then when i was driving i started dissociating really bad. i was trying to watch the road, but i was also like observing myself driving and everything looked really far away and it was hard to focus. usually when i’m driving and something like that happens a million alarms go off in my head, and that happened, but it was also hard to care. i made it to the doctor without incident though. when i checked in i noticed they had monsters inc on in the corner and there was a little kid watching it with her mom and that cheered me up a little bit.

the doctor changed up my birth control prescription, so hopefully i won’t be so sore and sick all the time next month. she also recommended that i start keeping a food journal to see if there are patterns in what makes me sick and less sick. so i will make more of an effort to write down what i ate and how i felt afterward. i totally forgot to take my anti nausea meds twice today but it was ok.

i was ok driving home. i put on some music i like. i decided to hold off on picking up the new meds until tomorrow to see if my other prescriptions are ready by then. i still have some time left before i need to get more wellbutrin and stuff, so hopefully if there’s a problem i can get a refill from my doctor on monday.

for lunch i had my leftovers from manuel’s. a spinach enchilada and some espinaca con queso. it’s a pretty cheesy meal, but i did ok. i felt just as sick as yesterday and i ate roughly the same amount, which was about three quarters of what i had rationed myself. after that i was doing something on the computer... i don’t remember what it was. i think i was looking at some videos i didn’t have time to get to yesterday and when i finished that, my brother and dad had moved all the bookcases out of the hallway and into my sister’s unoccupied room. so dad asked me to clean the floorboards. so i took a rough cloth and wiped off the dirt. dad is going to paint the hallway sometime in the near future. i was going to say he didn’t need to bother, but, thinking about it, it really needs it. there’s still crayon markings from when my brother was a toddler a few years after we moved in.

after that i called the outpatient hospital thing that my therapist recommended! i am going to be “assessed” on monday. it meets for like nine hours a week. i am hoping i get in, and i am hoping it will be helpful, although i am not sure what it entails or how many weeks i will theoretically be attending. i will have to remember to ask those questions on monday. i also looked up some reviews online and there weren’t any comments on being “treated like an animal” or “left in the waiting room for 7 hours” so i am hoping it will be good. they also take my insurance.

after that i bummed around on tumblr until i realized it was too late to also call the school about my tuition. maybe tomorrow...

dad and i went to thai food for dinner. i started feeling really sick about halfway into my soup but i forced myself to continue eating because thai food is my favorite. like, i have liked almost every thai dish i have ordered at any restaurant. this one doesn’t make the very best food, but it is very good, and they also do vegetarian soups which are magnificent and i can’t seem to find any other thai place that makes them. so dad and i go to this one. i decided to try something new and got “spicy noodle.” which was basically black pepper with some noodles and broccoli. it was pretty good!

dad was too tired to go to the game store to play terraform mars so we went home after dinner. i set up onitama and got him a beer and we played a round of that. it took like 25 minutes, while with asher they usually took 10 to 15 minutes. dad ended up pulling a very unexpected win in literally the last turn after i’d put pressure on him since turn 3 or so. it’s like chess except more crowded and fewer options. it’s hard to explain without the board and pieces in front of me.

after that i sat and thought for a while. my sister used to have a very similar problem to the one i am having now. constant stomachaches, feeling nauseous, stuff like that. that started when we were very young, like “eating solid food now” young, and seemed to still be happening when i left for high school. when i see her next, probably on easter for the family gathering, i will ask whether or not that ever stopped or if she just started hiding it better. i think she started feeling better after having a nose surgery... so it might not be the same problem. i have a much wider nose and don’t have a lot of breathing problems except a weird respiration cycle that probably developed because of my heart problem.

after that i was talking to asher and i brought up that game where you find a young teenager with like a sparkledog oc and you draw it and make the kid happy. an artist named coral did that for me once when my secret santa was a no-show one year. i was 14. it blew my mind! i spent so much time after that trying to draw like her. my style is much different from hers now, but i think i am about at the same level technical wise. i have never been a popular artist but i think having someone with practice draw your first oc is kind of magical regardless.

so i spent like two hours combing through the internet looking for goofy ocs made by kids. i noticed that my little pony and five nights at freddy’s is very popular. i don’t know much about those... but i found a few examples of “baby’s first character” so i will try to at least do some sketches tomorrow evening. maybe it will help me start drawing again.

i wanted to go to bed at 11:30, but now it is 12:30, because i am dumb and said “i’m just gonna write something really quick” at 11:30, which is when i ran out of resources to find mostly unironic eye-searing sparkledogs.

also in one of the “young artist” groups on deviantart there was tentacle porn and i don’t know how to feel about that. (it was... pretty vanilla actually.) and some vaguely sensual shirtless photo realistic paintings of star wars fan characters. and there was one folder with pages upon pages of ms paint anime drawings by one person from 2010. 

i don’t miss being a kid.

i’m going to try to sleep and hope my hellacious dream torment ends soon.