#i like graphic tees i guess - not plain ones

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Never Have I Ever - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Civilian Contractor! Reader (Callsign: Dove)

Length: 3.2k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Female Reader with a Callsign, but no Physical Description or Name; Not Necessarily Healthy Decisions/Coping Mechanisms; Shy! Reader; Lots of Jokes About Innocence; Slow Burn; Coworkers to Friends to Lovers; Oblivious Idiots; Excessive Pining

Summary: Dove is tired of being stereotyped as the nice, quiet girl who's so innocent it hurts. So, who does she call to help her? Hangman.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Master List

It was always the quiet ones, they said. It was always the ones that you least expected. And Dove, the Dagger Squad’s resident civilian contractor, was just that. 

She was quiet, shy, and had taken several weeks to actually accept an invite out to the Hard Deck with the rest of the squad. But now that she was standing in front of him with a determined, hardened stare, Hangman knew that he was going to get a headache. Or maybe have a heart attack. Or both.

And here he thought that he would get to enjoy his whiskey in peace on his first night of leave. 

“You want me to do what?” he asked as he furrowed his eyebrows. 

“I want you to teach me how to be like you,” Dove replied, like it was a common request. 

“An asshole?” 

“I guess, sort of,” Dove stated softly. “I know that I have a rep of being a . . .”

“Goody two shoes?” Hangman offered with a teasing smirk, taking a sip of his drink.

“Yeah,” Dove replied a bit tensely. Straightening up, she added, “And I’d like to change that.” 

“Why?” Hangman asked, setting down his glass. 

He looked her up and down, only finding more evidence to prove his point. She wore jean shorts that were perhaps a little short—for a nunnery. Her shirt was a plain graphic tee, leaving everything except the very top of her collarbone to the imagination. And whatever make up she wore didn’t make her any less innocent or doe-eyed.

“Because no offense, Dove, but you really live up to your callsign.” 

“So do you, Hangman,” Dove replied, staring him down with a defiant expression. 

He sighed, slowly rubbing his hand down his face. Well, here comes the headache. Taking another sip of his whiskey, Jake turned to Dove, trying to read her. Sure, he had made a few comments about how she could live a little. Loosen up and enjoy herself for once. But he had a feeling that her request wasn’t just a one-night proposition.

And that quietly unnerved him.  

“You want me to help you stop being so innocent?”

“I’m not innocent,” she snapped back. 

“Alright, but you are a goody two shoes,” Hangman drawled and Dove didn’t move to argue with that point. 

“So, do you have any ideas?” Dove asked after a moment, resting her hands on the table. 

“You heard of Never Have I Ever?” 

“Of course, I have,” she scoffed.

“Alright, well, we’re going to play a game of Never Have I Ever.” 

“That’s your big plan?” Dove questioned, not looking impressed. 

“You wanted my expertise on the subject,” Hangman reminded her, getting up and leading her in the direction of the Dagger Squad.

“And how many times are we going to play that?” Dove huffed, following after him. 

“I don’t know. Ten?” 

“That’s it?” 

“One hundred then,” Hangman stated, turning to face Dove, whose eyes widened a fraction as he turned to face her. His smirk widened and he leaned in a little closer, hoping to unnerve her to back out of this ridiculous idea. “Unless you think you can’t handle it?” 

“I can handle it,” she growled with determination shining in her eyes.

“Then let’s begin.” 

~~~~~

#1 - Smoked a Cigarette

“Are you sure about this, Dove?” Bob asked, opening up his pack. 

They were standing outside the Hard Deck together. Hangman hung back a step, there to be a witness and a fireman, if necessary. Bob shared a concerned look with Hangman, who shook his head in response. Turning back to Dove, who was glaring at the floor, Bob tried to reason with her.

“You don’t have to do this.” 

“Just hand me a cigarette, Bob,” she demanded, holding out her hand. 

Bob tentatively handed over a cigarette to Dove, who took it quickly but seemed to pause when Bob took out his lighter. Bob lit up his own cigarette and took a drag before handing the lighter over to Dove. She took it firmly but seemed to struggle to light a flame. And Hangman could only watch her struggle to light her cigarette so many times before he finally stepped in. Taking the lighter from her, he lit it with a flick of his thumb before holding it out to Dove. 

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Hangman told her. “Just copy Bob.” 

Dove held the cigarette over the flame and slowly brought her lips to the other end of it. She took a drag like Bob did, but unlike Bob, she immediately started coughing. Hangman sighed and took the cigarette from her hand as she continued to cough. 

“You alright?” Hangman asked her, putting out the cigarette. Pulling out a cup of water, he placed it down in front of Dove.

“How are your lungs still functioning?” Dove coughed out, directing her question at Bob, who shrugged in response. “Jesus Christ!”

“Well, one down, ninety-nine left to go,” Hangman stated calmly, typing away at his phone. “What’s next?” 

~~~~~

# 2 - Done a Shot of Tequila

“You’ve never actually done a shot of tequila? You’ve spent the last five years of your life in the Southwest,” Hangman pointed out, causing Dove to give him a sharp look.

“She’s never actually finished a shot of tequila,” Bob explained, causing Dove to sigh. 

“I don’t like tequila, alright?” she mumbled quietly.

“Then why are you drinking it?” Hangman asked her as Penny placed a shot glass down. Leaning forward a bit more, he added, “Don’t do this stuff if you don’t actually want to do it.” 

“I do want to do it,” Dove stated firmly.

“You just said—” 

“—I want to do this.” 

Dove and Hangman had a bit of a staring contest before he sighed and broke it off. Penny filled up the shot glass and placed a saltshaker on the bar before handing Dove a wedge of lime. She offered Dove a small smile before shooting Hangman and Bob warning looks to watch her before heading off to serve more customers. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Hangman reminded Dove gently.

“I need to,” she replied quietly.

Dove stared down at the shot for a moment, resting her hands on the bartop. She looked like she was going to walk away for a moment until she suddenly grabbed the shot glass and knocked it back. Wincing and gagging, Dove shoved the lime into her mouth, sucking on the tart wedge dramatically. Jake leaned over the bar and grabbed a few more lime wedges, which Dove took gratefully. 

“Alright, what else can we do here tonight?” 

~~~~~

# 3 - Stolen Toilet Paper

Dove stepped out of the womens’ bathroom and held up a roll of toilet paper, shooting Hangman an annoyed look as he gave her a thumbs up in return. 

“This is the best that you could come up with? Really?”

“I’m working on it. Trust the process.” 

Dove sighed and handed him the roll of toilet paper before walking off, shaking her head. Hangman set the toilet paper down before walking after her.

“We need some help,” Dove stated, heading towards the Daggers. 

~~~~~

# 4 - Gone Commando

“How do you feel?” Phoenix asked as Dove stepped out of the womens’ room.

“Like I should have worn a different pair of shorts for tonight,” Dove replied, awkwardly pulling at her jean shorts. 

“Just do a lap and put them back on,” Hangman suggested, causing Dove to nod. 

She walked off to do a lap of the bar, allowing Phoenix to turn to Hangman with slightly narrowed eyes. Hangman promptly ignored her gaze, watching Dove as she walked around, making sure that no one messed with her. There was no way that Dove would actually be able to talk her way out of most situations in her current state.

“What’s going on with her?” Phoenix asked quietly.

“I don’t know what’s going on with her.”

“So, why are you doing this then?”

“She asked me to help her and because I’m a gentleman, Phoenix, I decided to help her,” Hangman replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“If you’re planning on humiliating her later—” 

“—And why would I do that?” Hangman asked Phoenix defensively, causing Phoenix to purse her lips together. 

“You made fun of Bob in the beginning. And they’re pretty similar. Except Dove doesn’t hold her own as well as Bob does in situations like this.” Phoenix turned forward again as Dove began to walk back over. “I just want to make sure that she doesn’t get hurt. She’s obviously going through something.”

Hangman didn't respond to Phoenix and simply stared ahead until Dove walked back over.

“I’m never doing that again,” Dove sighed, heading straight to the bathroom. 

“Did you want to do the same with your bra just to knock another one off the list?” Jake suggested, but Dove shook her head. 

“No, I can’t.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve done that before. Plenty of times,” Dove explained, opening the door to the bathroom. 

“Oh.”

Phoenix glanced up at Hangman, who did not meet her gaze once again. 

~~~~~

# 5 - Eaten Food Off of Someone Else

“Don’t look at me while I do this,” Dove pleaded with Hangman, who stared up at the night sky. 

“It’s just a French fry, Dove. And you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

“No, you’re right,” she sighed. “It’s just a French fry.”

Hangman kept his eyes focused on the stars. Dove leaned down and took the French fry that he placed on his bare stomach between her teeth. She seemed to struggle to pick it up without actually touching him and Hangman could see her squirming a bit before she finally grabbed it properly. Standing up, she chewed the fry as Jake sat up. 

“You want to switch?”

~~~~~

# 6 - Had Someone Else Eat Food Off of You

Dove struggled to swallow her squeak when Jake swooped his head down and ate the French fry that she placed on her stomach without hesitation. Casually pulling out his phone as he chewed the French fry, Jake typed the latest challenge onto the list. Dove slowly sat up, pulling her shirt back down bashfully.

“You’ve done that before then?” she asked quietly, standing up from the couch. 

“Yeah, a few times,” Hangman dismissed with a shrug of his shoulders. “What’s next?”

~~~~~

# 7 - Touched the Bar Floor with Your Bare Foot

Dove balanced herself with a hand on the table and slowly placed her foot down on the bar floor, cringing as she felt the sticky surface. Even most of the other Daggers were cringing as she held it there for a moment. 

“That was so gross,” Dove huffed, pulling her foot back up. Leaning on the table, she shot the man who came up with that challenge a glare. “You’re dead to me, Fanboy.”

“My actual suggestion was lick it so—”

“—You are disgusting,” Payback cut off his wizzo. 

“Come on, the beach shower isn't too far from here,” Hangman offered, holding out his hand, and helping Dove hop on one leg out the side door. 

~~~~~

# 8 - Flashed Someone

Phoenix and Dove returned to the Dagger table from the bathroom. 

“I can confirm that she does, in fact, have breasts,” Phoenix stated calmly, causing Dove to grow bashful and avoid eye contact with the other Daggers. 

~~~~~

# 9 -  Shotgunned a Beer

“Alright, just hold it like that for now,” Jake instructed Dove as he handed the beer can to her. “Now, when you’re ready, you’re going to turn it vertically and drink from the hole that I just made and quickly open the top while you do that.”

“Okay,” Dove agreed, running through the steps in her head. “Do I just go then?”

“Here, I’ll show you,” Rooster offered, stepping onto the sand beside Dove. 

Dove watched Rooster with an edge of apprehension as he easily shotgunned his beer, growing only more nervous. It was like he was drinking water. And Dove wasn’t convinced that she would even finish half of it. She stared down at her own beer for a moment before glancing up at Hangman with a bit of a tentative look. 

“Bradshaw was just showing off,” Hangman scoffed, shooting Rooster a look before turning back to Dove. “Don’t worry about it. Just do what you can.”

Dove nodded and slowly brought her mouth to the beer can before tilting it on its side. She struggled to open it while drinking for a moment, but eventually managed it. Dove took a few gulps before she quickly pulled the can away from her mouth, letting the remaining beer pour out onto the sand. Jake took the beer can from her as she wiped her mouth and neck. 

“You alright?” Jake asked her. 

“Yeah. It’s a good thing that I don’t like this shirt though,” she sighed, pulling at the fabric. “And that it’s not seethrough right now.” 

“Yeah,” Jake agreed, trailing off quietly. 

~~~~~

# 10 - Played Darts

“Alright, now this isn’t like throwing a baseball. There’s no big wind up. It’s just a flick,” Hangman coached Dove, who listened closely. “And I won’t tell you how to aim too much because I’m sure that you’re already calculating gravity and air resistance and all of that in your head. So, just try it out.”

Hangman handed her three darts and motioned for her to take a throw. Dove stepped up to the line and prepared to make her first throw when two men walked over. 

“Can you teach the Girl Scout how to throw later? We’d like to play,” one of them stated gruffly, causing Dove to lower her hand slowly. 

“You can wait or go to a different bar,” Hangman retorted back. “We were here first.”

“She obviously doesn’t even know how to throw. We want to play an actual game.”

“Congratulations,” Jake replied sarcastically. “We were still here first.” 

Dove was about to tell Jake to just drop it and let the two men play to keep the peace, but he was prepared to dig his heels in. 

“How about the man who scores the highest on one throw gets to stay?” the man suggested with a smirk. 

“Fine by me.”

Handing over a dart, Hangman tilted his chin up with a challenging expression in his eye. The man took his shot first and Dove watched the dart land on the board. It wasn't in the center, but it must have been a decent shot because the man turned to his friend with a smirk before turning back to Jake. 

Hangman glared at the man and stepped up a little bit before throwing the dart without looking. Dove couldn’t help the sudden and extremely warm feeling that came over her when she saw it land dead center. Holding her darts to her chest, she glanced over to see the men staring a bit dumbfounded at the board. 

“Now, move along,” Jake warned them. 

After they walked off with their tails between their legs, Jake collected his two darts. 

“Go ahead,” he replied, as if nothing happened. 

Dove nodded and turned to the board again. A bit unfocused, she tossed the first dart and winced when it bounced off the wood with an awkward clack. 

“Don’t tell Penny about that.”

“Just relax. And loosen your stance some more.”

Dove let out some of the tension in her body and focused on the dart board. Lining up her shot, Dove ran through some quick calculations in her head before she tossed her second dart. It landed on the board and Jake stepped forward, nodding in approval. 

“Not bad at all. But you need to turn more.”

Dove held her breath a bit as Jake quickly and methodically moved her hips and shoulders into place. She looked down at her feet as he moved her left foot back with his own, her grip on her dart tightening just a bit more. 

“Alright, now try again.”

The whack of the dart hitting the wall caused Dove to grow a bit embarrassed for a moment. But she let out a breath to steady herself and lined up another shot. Taking a moment to center herself, she tossed the dart and smiled when it landed on the board. 

“Land one more and you’re done,” Jake stated, handing her another dart. 

Licking her lips, Dove lined up her last shot and threw it, landing on the board once again. She held up her hands victoriously and laughed before turning to Jake, who offered her a kind smile in return.

“Thank you,” she whispered out, giving him a quick hug. 

“Any time.”

Jake released her from the hug and Dove moved to collect the darts to put them away. Clearing his throat, he looked at the floor before turning back to her as she walked back over. 

~~~~~

# 11 - Not Tipped

“I feel bad about this,” Dove sighed, signing the receipt. 

“It’s three dollars. I think that Penny will forgive you this one time,” Jake assured her. 

“I’ll forgive you,” Penny stated, walking over to them. “Especially since you’re tutoring Amelia in math. And you refuse to take a normal rate for it.”

Dove nodded with a small smile and passed the receipt over to Penny with an apologetic expression. Jake got called over by Coyote for something, leaving Penny and Dove alone for a few moments. 

“You sure that you’re alright, Dove?” Penny asked her softly. 

“I’m fine, Penny.”

“You sure? You’re a nice girl. And there’s nothing wrong with being a nice person. I don’t have to throw people like you out of the bar, for one thing.”

“People take advantage of nice people,” Dove replied quietly, putting her card away. 

“Just be careful, alright?”

“I will be.”

~~~~~

# 12 - Danced on a Table

Dove took Jake’s hand and stepped up onto the table. It was after hours at the Hard Deck and Penny had allowed her to dance up on the table for a little bit before they all headed home. Dove turned to face the Dagger Squad and grew a bit shy with all of them staring at her. Looking around like she didn’t know what to do, Dove nervously played with her shirt. 

“Now what?”

“Hold on a second,” Rooster replied, jogging over to the piano. 

He played a familiar tune and Dove started to do an awkward dance for a few seconds. But when people started clapping, she folded and quickly moved to hop off the table. Jake offered her a hand as she stepped down onto a chair. 

“Alright, safe travels home everyone,” Penny called out, officially ending the night. 

“We’ll pick up again tomorrow?” Dove suggested to Jake, sliding on her shoes. 

“Yeah, just text me when you’re ready.”

“Thanks for doing this again,” she replied, getting to her feet.

“Don’t mention it.”

She nodded and smiled at him before turning to head out with Phoenix and Bob. Jake watched her go for a moment before moving to head home himself.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

[shokuto]

Twin Day

At the start of the day, while Mrs. Pichelli runs terribly late for homeroom, Ganke fixes Miles with the kind of look you get coming back from running off with your dad’s car. Thinly veiled frustration mars his expression, awaiting an explanation like a stick of dynamite awaiting a light.

Not that Ganke elaborates, of course. He’s always had an understated flair for the dramatic, one that put Houdini to shame whenever he got worked up.

So he lets Miles ignore his dull glower. Lets him settle in his desk, pull out his notebook, and assemble the bookbag fort on the surface of the wood so their teacher wouldn’t see his phone when she finally arrived. He waits just until Miles has had enough, until he sighs, turns to the desk beside his, and grants his fellow student the opening he needed like one rolls down the window for the police.

“Can I help you, Ganke?”

“Why are you wearing that?” He asks.

Miles looks down to inspect his frankly normal choice of attire—the most striking of which being a black hoodie, embroidered with thick golden lines in the shape of owl, kinda like a neon sign—before staring back at Ganke with his own look of bemusement.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Uh, hello? You see the shirt?” Ganke emphasizes the signature Frog-Man graphic on his tee by stretching out the hem. It unfortunately doesn’t answer Miles’ question, nor the reason for his own bout of frustration.

“Yeah, I see the shirt,” Miles assures, “…is it supposed to mean something?”

“It’s twin day! We’re supposed to be wearing the same outfit!”

Ganke’s quickly becoming a pro at answering one question and creating two more, Miles notes, face wrinkling in confusion. “What?”

“Dude, look around you.”

Skeptically, Miles humors him. Taking in the rest of the room, he only sees his classmates chatting amongst themselves at first, nothing unusual.

Then he notices how everyone’s arranged. The seats are the same, but most of the people in them are matching clothes with the person beside them. He spots two green sweatshirts stamped with the Sprite logo in white, two “I’m with stupid” tees, about four plain blue shirts with a white star on them, obviously homaging the shortest sitting president in US history, and so on and so forth.

He peeks a little lower. They’re even wearing the same shoes.

“It’s homecoming week,” Ganke explains. “And now, I don’t have anyone to twin with!”

Miles looks back at his friend, distinctly remembering the short time ago in which he was blindfolded and dumped in a blank room under a spotty video feed. He’s happy he evidently has a quick recovery time, but that was only like, a mere week and a half prior.

“You just got kidnapped and you’re worried about homecoming week?” He quietly asks as much, leaned in.

“Guy’s gotta compartmentalize,” Ganke shrugs.

“…Right,” Miles relents, however confident he is that Ganke’s merely hiding an ulterior motive, “Well, uh. Sorry, I guess.”

“We literally planned this two days ago.”

A scoff. “No, we did not.”

“Yeah, we did!” Ganke Lee, ever the keeper of times Miles was wrong about something insists, “The theme dropped in a school-wide email, I called you immediately about it!”

To his credit, Miles does try his hardest to recall the alleged conversation. One he apparently had over the last few days, likely in between fighting for his life and wondering what exactly “twin day” was. It comes to him, albeit slowly, and really, all he remembers clearly is how his phone just wouldn’t stop ringing…

Then he winces, remembering the hit he took to the face fumbling for it like he had ice in his suit.

“You can’t just ask me stuff like that when I’m out,” Miles defends.

“Yeah, clearly,” Ganke huffs in his seat. “Well, there goes today. I’d run to the dorm and change, but it’s not like they sell those hoodies at Target or anything. Didn’t you have to scrounge up your birthday money from two years for that thing?”

“It’s good material,” Miles argues, subconsciously shielding the brand of his sweater from further scrutiny.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Scrapbook: Chapter 2

Title: And You Kissed Me Like You Meant It

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Mike x Black!OFC (Dimples)

Fandom: Hellraiser: Hellworld

Word Count: 3.5K

Summary: A collection of moments with Mike and Daisy (Dimples).

Chapter Summary: Mikey and Dimples’ first date.

Warnings: familial death including parents and aunt, emotionally unavailable parents, divorce due to cheating, minor angst, oral sex (f receiving), protected p-in-v sex, tooth-rotting fluff (whoopsie)

A/N: Mike mentions some family members. I have a family tree that explains it all. *pulls up PowerPoint presentation on my phone* Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by: Me

Spotify Playlist is here.

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Mike and Dimples texted and spoke over the phone multiple times over the next few days. They agreed to go on their date on Saturday late morning so they wouldn’t have to worry about classes. He would choose the first activity and she would choose the second, keeping the details a secret from one another.

He arrives at her dorm in his Volkswagen Golf Mk6, parking across the street. Checking his hair for the millionth time, he gets out of the car to walk up to the front door. He’s dressed in a plain white tee that shows off his lean muscular frame with light-wash jeans and a pair of Vans. He originally wanted to just text Dimples to let her know he was outside but thought better of it. 

He raises his hand to knock on the door, but it opens instead. Dimples answers the door in a light blue flowy dress with little embroidered flowers on it with a matching pale sweater and casual sneakers. She is holding his hoodie in one arm and a small purse is over her shoulder. He thinks she looks like a perfect little tomboy in her outfit and compliments it as he all but drags her out of the house.

He walks her over to the passenger side, opening the door for her and closing it as she settles in. She puts his hoodie in the backseat and goes to buckle herself in. Walking around the front of the car, he notices she is having trouble getting the seatbelt down. Getting in, he reaches over her to help.

“Here, lemme help, Dimples. This thing gets stuck now and again,” Pulling the seatbelt across her lap, he locks her in, “Other than that, I love this car so much.” Petting the dashboard, he can’t help but whisper sweet nothings to the car.

“I’m gonna ignore you being creepy with your car and ask how the hell you got this on a college kid’s budget?” She laughs, tilting her head to look at Mike.

“Well, actually, my Dad helped me get this as a high school graduation gift. I paid half and so did he. My Mom did not want me to have a car, but Dad won the argument I guess.” He rattles off nervously, starting the car to head to their destination.

“I take it you’re closer with your Dad, then?” Dimples probes, watching as the street goes by in the side-view mirror.

“Yeah, my Dad’s close with me and my Mom is close with my brother. It’s always been like that,” Mike runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head a bit, “My big brother is my Mom’s favorite. And that’s fine, he’s the firstborn so.” He drifts off and she puts a hand on his thigh and lightly squeezes.

“I always wondered if my parents would have had more kids after me. I would have loved siblings. But they passed away when I was about 2 or 3. I barely remember them.” She says matter of factly, hoping to distract Mike from his family drama.

“Wow. I’m so sorry, Dimples. So, who raised you?” He put a hand on hers where it rested on his thigh.

“I was raised by my Aunt Nicole until she passed away a bit after I graduated high school. She left me with an inheritance and I was able to get scholarships to come to school here with a full ride. She never had any kids and my mom was her only sibling so after she was gone, it was just me. But I met Jasmine when I moved here and she’s been like a sister to me, annoying but helpful, ya know?” She takes a deep breath after spilling her guts all over the place.

“I can understand the annoying part, that’s Derrick for sure. He laughs at all my jokes, though. Gotta keep him around for a least a little while longer. Plus, without our friends, we wouldn’t have met.” He laces his fingers through hers and kisses the back of her hand.

A comfortable silence settles in the car as Mike drives through town. He parks in front of a cute cafe, leaves the car, and opens the door for his date. He extends a hand for her to take as she exits the car and she smiles up at him before finally getting up on tiptoes to kiss him for the first time today. She is rewarded with a blush creeping up on his boyish face.

Mike clears his throat and laughs nervously, “So, uh. Here we are at my favorite spot in town, ‘Auntie Erika’s’. This place has the best brunch I’ve ever had. Everything is cooked with love,” He leads her into the shop and locks eyes with the owner, “And also the sweetest woman in the world is the chef.”

Just then, an older black woman with short-cropped hair comes around the counter and runs up to hug Mike. She leans back and grabs his jaw to place a kiss on it. 

“Now, where have you been, Mikey? I have missed you!” She steps out of the hug and swats him with her hand towel.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been in for a while, Auntie Erika, but I did bring someone with me this time,” He nods over to Dimples to get himself out of trouble.

“And she’s absolutely gorgeous so you better be treating her right,” Erika opens her arms for a hug and Dimples accepts it happily, “And she gives good hugs too. What is your name, baby?”

“My name is Daisy but Mikey calls me Dimples, Ma’am.”

“None of that Ma’am stuff, you call me Auntie Erika or just Auntie, you hear?”

“Loud and clear, Auntie.” She smiles and Erika pats her cheek warmly.

“Atta girl, now what are you two up to today?”

“It’s our first date.” Dimples looks up at Mike and they share a smile.

“First of many, I can already feel it,” Erika taps the side of her head, moving back behind the counter, “You two go get a table while I get a little treat for you both.”

“Auntie, you don’t have to–” Mike starts, but Erika cuts him off.

“Oh, would you just let me spoil you?” Erika puts a hand on her hip with a stern look in her eyes.

He laughs and throws up his hands, “Ok, Auntie, fine. You can spoil me all you want.”

“Good, now go and sit.” At Erika’s suggestion, they find a table on the open-air patio.

Erika brings out some hot cocoa and a large cinnamon bun for them to share and they thank her and dig into the sweet treat.

“So, tell me about your family, Mike. I’ve already met your Aunt. Who else is there?” She asks, laughing at Mike’s expense.

“Well, I’ll say I only really deal with my Dad’s side of the family. My Mom’s side is a bit all over the place. My Grandpa Gus is a player or was a bit of a player. He’s still alive but I think he’s finally settled down in his old age. Um, he used to be married to my Grandma Millie but they got divorced after she found him in bed with a lady named Louise when my Dad was about 5 or 6. Now, Grandma Millie is my Dad’s mom and Louise ended up pregnant with my Uncle Sy. So Dad and Sy are half-brothers. And Uncle Sy’s full name is James Syverson but everyone in the Army always called him by his last name so that just kinda stuck with him,” Mike pauses when their waitress comes to take their order and then continues, “Uncle Sy is married to Aunt Danette and they have a daughter, my cousin Cherie who’s about 8 or 9 now, I think. My Dad is Walter and my Mom is Eve, they had my big brother Evan four years before me. Evan is married to my sister-in-law Hope and they don’t plan on having any kids. I think that’s everyone for the most part.”

“Dude! Your family sounds amazing. Your Grandpa sounds fun, albeit kinda hoe-ish.”

“You don’t know the half of it. He flirts with my Aunt and Sister-in-law all the time. That’s the sailor in him, I guess. He actually lied about his age to get recruited to fight in World War II. He was 14 masquerading as a 20-year-old during the War. He’s in his 90s and looks like he’s in his mid-70s.” 

“So your Grandpa was a military man, and so was your Uncle. What about your Dad? What does he do?”

“My Dad’s a Detective. Before working in Homicide, he was S.W.A.T. and that was terrifying. Not that it’s not scary now, but as a kid knowing your Dad is out there running into danger was just…a lot, ya know? Like, puberty was already tough enough without that stress,” He looks into his now empty cup of cocoa to distract himself and she puts her hand on his, “One night, I just freaked out and told him I didn’t want him to die and I cried and cried until he promised to move to a different division. He stayed with me all night, promising me that he would leave S.W.A.T. and come home every night to be with me. So yeah, he’s my hero and all that.”

“I can’t wait to meet him.” She smiles, squeezing his hand and pulling a soft smile from him.

Their waitress comes out with Mike’s omelet and Dimples’ short stack with fresh fruit and between bites, they discuss school and hobbies. 

He tells her that he is studying social science with a specialization in criminology, hoping to one day be a criminal intelligence analyst. He always wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps but not be in the field as much. He also mentions how much he loves gaming, finding great playlists for every occasion, and he doesn’t pay attention to sports.

She is majoring in psychology with a focus on child and adolescent psychology. After becoming an orphan, she realized the need that a lot of children and young people have for acceptance. She wants to work with them on their self-esteem and empowerment. She also loves gaming, finding cute comfortable sneakers, and photography.

Finishing up their meal, they say goodbye to Auntie Erika and make their way back on the road. 

Dimples gives Mike directions to their next activity and he is surprised when they come to a laser tag arena. He is so excited that he leans over and kisses her as he parks the car. He can’t wait to show off his skills and impress her. 

He realizes she means business as they get set up. Stealth, speed, and focus are the name of the game and she plays to win. Winning four out of five games, she reigns as the champion of laser tag. He has never been more attracted to someone than he is right now. He bows down to her prowess and she feels heat rush to her cheeks as she tries to coax him up from the floor as he is causing a scene. Getting up, he suggests they go back to his dorm to watch a movie since Derrick will be out for the night. She agrees and they get back on the road after ending their game.

On the way back to Mike’s dorm, they hold hands and make comfortable small talk about what kinds of movies they liked. He tended to like action or horror movies. She also likes action movies but was not into horror movies unless she could watch them with someone else. He could already see them watching a horror movie and having her clinging to him when something scared her. The possibility had him squirming in his seat and he hoped that she did not notice.

When they arrived back in Mike’s room, he grabbed his laptop and searched for a movie. They sat at the head of his bed, Dimples in between his legs and leaning back into his chest with the laptop balancing on her legs. Mike took the opportunity of their seating to kiss her neck before pressing start on Mission: Impossible. They both have seen the series so if they were to barely pay attention to it, that would be just fine.

“You know, Ethan Hunt was my first movie crush as a kid,” Dimples blurts, squirming under Mike’s hands.

He leaves one more nibbling kiss on her neck, picking up the laptop and setting it on his nightstand. “One difference between me and Hunt though, Dimples,” He manhandles her into a seated position facing him on his lap, “I’m right here and can do this.” Pulling her sweater off of her shoulders, he moves his hands back to her face and brings her down for a kiss.

He swallows the sweet moans that escape her as she tangles one hand in his hair and the other in his shirt, unknowingly starting to grind her core into him. Feeling the heat come off of her, he brings one hand to her hip to guide her movements.

She can feel through his jeans that he is sizeable and that only spurs her to move the hand that fisted his shirt lower to ghost over his clothed crotch. The groan that comes from him leads her to press deeper into his erection.

He breaks the kiss to look into her eyes, her pupils blown wide. “Is this okay?” He asks, his hands sliding his hands under her dress to tug at the waistband of her panties. At her nod, he speaks again, “I kinda need to hear your words, Dimples.”

“Yes, it’s okay. Please undress me, Mikey.” 

He smiles and tugs the underwear down and helps her out of her dress. Laying her down, he kisses her ankles to her inner thighs, he leans up to unhook her bra and toss it to the side. Paying special attention to her nipples, he teased them with flicks from his tongue, sucking on them and massaging her breasts.

Moving back from her, he takes off his shirt and jeans, followed by his boxers. With one look at the engorged dick between his legs, Dimples lets out a whimper that causes him to involuntarily twitch. He flattens to his belly and dives into her pussy. With a flat tongue, he licks from her opening to her sensitive nub. Adding in one finger, then two, he massages the bundle of nerves in her core. Following her moans and the movement of her hips against him, he is easily able to bring her to climax within minutes. 

“Mikey, please. Need you inside me.” Her fingers find his curls and tug him up to kiss her, tasting herself on his lips. 

Mike pulls away to open a drawer in his nightstand and comes away with a small foil packet. Opening it with his teeth, he guides the sheath over his dick. He reaches back into the drawer and pulls out lube before coating the condom in it. Moving to position himself at her opening, he looks up into her eyes.

“You ready, Dimples?” He couldn’t help but slide his erection through her folds, but not fully entering until she voices her anticipation. 

“I’m ready, Mikey.” She opens her legs a bit wider and tangles her fingers back in his curls.

In one swift motion, he breaches her and is welcomed by inviting heat. They simultaneously hiss at their coupling. Letting her get used to his girth, he starts to move as she wiggles her hips to signal she needs friction. Pulling out slowly, he slams back in and is rewarded with her pulsing around him.

“Fuck, you feel so good, Dimples.” His words whispered in her ear as he begins a steady pace massaging her walls with his length. 

Wrapping her legs around him, she pulls him in deeper. Reaching up to cup his face, she smiles up at him and he can barely hold back his yearning for her. He knows he’s a goner as he feels her tightening around him in a telltale sign of her next orgasm. He has no time to be proud of himself as when she throws her head back in ecstasy, his hips stutter and he follows right after her.

With him panting in the crook of her neck, she runs a hand down his arm and he lays a trail of kisses leading up to her mouth. When he pulls out, she hisses again at the feeling of emptiness. She watches him slide off the condom and get up to tie it off and throw it away, stopping to grab a towel to wipe her down before cleaning himself. 

When he lays down again, she snuggles up on his chest and his arm wraps itself around her. They lay naked in his bed in companionable silence until he speaks up.

“So, that was intense,” His heart rate is still high and she chuckles and looks up at him.

“We came at the same time! I’d say that was intense as fuck, Mikey.” She says, nodding enthusiastically.

“I say we reward ourselves with a nap and then try and use higher brain function. Deal?” He pulls his comforter over their bodies and lets her get comfy then snuggles into her.

“Deal!” She rests upon his chest and lets his heartbeat lull her into slumber.

When they awake, get dressed and play a few rounds of Call of Duty: Zombies in which Dimples dominates yet again. Mike secretly loves that he has such a worthy player on his team, she surprises him in so many ways. Plus, she likes to sit in his lap while they play so it’s fun for everyone involved.

After Dimples’ fifth yawn in five minutes, he decides to walk her home so she can get some proper sleep. One look at the clock displaying 10:37 pm settles it. Even when she whines that she’s not tired. She’s trying to spend more time with him and though he loves it, he wants her to get some good rest. Especially after their full day of fun.

As they walk down the street, they start to plan their next date. Something between them is palpable. A spark ignites the flame and the two of them are smitten. They actually swing their arms back and forth as they make their way down the street and if anyone was watching, they would probably gag at the cuteness. Making it to the outside of her dorm, they laugh nervously not wanting the night to end. 

“Can we sit outside for a sec?” Mike points over to the porch swing and moves over to it when she nods. He pulls out his phone and pulls up his Spotify and selects a song. Pulling Dimples closer to him, he rests his head on hers and swings them back and forth. They held hands and exchanged looks as the emo song plays on til the last verse.

‘Hands down, this is the best day I can

Ever remember, I'll always remember the sound

Of the stereo, the dim of the soft lights

The scent of your hair that you twirled in your fingers

And the time on the clock when we realized it's so late

And this walk that we shared together

The streets were wet, and the gate was locked

So I jumped it and I let you in

And you stood at your door with your hands on my waist

And you kissed me like you meant it

And I knew that you meant it, that you meant it, that you meant it

And I knew that you meant it, that you meant it’

Dimples yawns again and chuckles in the middle of it. Mike takes that as a sign as he stops the next song from playing and gets up from the swing. Grabbing her hands, he pulls her to him and walks her back to the door. They exchange slow, sweet kisses that seem to stretch for days but really only a matter of minutes.

Breaking the kiss, Mike presses his lips to her forehead and smiles down at her. “Ok, if you don’t go inside, I’m just gonna bring you back to my dorm and have my way with you again.” 

“I mean, that’s cool with me if you–”

“Yeah, nice try, Dimples.”

“Ok, ok. It was worth a shot. Alright then, goodnight Mikey.” She turns and unlocks the front door and steps inside. 

“Goodnight, Dimples. I’ll see you soon, ok?” 

“You better.” Her half-hearted threat dies as he leans in the doorway and places a chaste kiss on her lips. She wouldn’t admit she enjoys the effect he has on her yet, but soon it will be hard to deny.

They definitely have something building between them. Mike walks back to his dorm and Dimples walks up to her room. The first thing they do after getting settled is text each other. Smiles are plastered on their faces as they type out corny messages and try to ignore this white-hot infatuation that can only exist before something deeper takes its place.

Chapter 3

A/N: The song for this chapter is Hands Down by Dashboard Confessional. It’s an emo banger and you know it. This chapter was so fun to write. Omg, Mikey is my sweetheart and I plan on making him happy. Oh, and Auntie Erika is Erika Sloane from Mission: Impossible - Fallout. I love Angela Bassett and wanted her in this story so there. You'll see her later on 😁

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @geralts-yenn

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

[deathtokenkitten]

Default Replacement: CFbodytankrolledupjeans

@elvisgrace​ created this amazing default for cfbodytankrolledupjeans and all I did was slap on some recolours! 

Which, you guessed it, means I also come bearing .PSD files if you’d like to make your own :)

cfbodytankrolledupjeans comes in two flavours: plain tees and graphic tees. So choose one of the options.

Items are compressed for your setup’s convenience.

Grab them here: http://simfileshare.net/folder/169861/

Edit: One of my friends asked if I could create mix and match options. I think that should be easy to do, so keep your eyes peeled :) hopefully I can do that sometime this week!

[breserker]

WATERMELON ONION AND LEMON FOR VEL AND STRAWBERRY AVOCADO AND POTATO FOR SHOUA!!! 📣

OH MY GOD

VEL:

🍉 [WATERMELON] What will your OC take to the grave?

HIS NAME!!! Like, call him Jeronimo (you're the government), call him Jero (you're his tia or perhaps a SO), call him Vel (preferred for everyone and how he introduces himself), call him Velasquez (signifier that Lieu is Mad at him), but Momo is the name his mother called him and no one can touch that. It's to the point where he doesn't even say that's a name of his, that's his secret.

🧅 [ONION] What is surefire to make your OC cry? Who knows of this information?

Unseriously: he can be a crybaby, he's an emotional guy and he puts a LOT of himself into uhhh literally everything. So a really nice movie with a happy end can get him. This is something he will freely admit.

Seriously: He's got some really rough moments in his past including a dead mother and (to open the first book) a dead girlfriend and (not mentioned in book 1 but features heavily in book 2) a dead best friend, and the aforementioned "emotional guy who puts a LOT of himself into everything" really makes anniversaries/holidays extremely hard on occasion. Lots of people know about his dead mom, it's kind of hard to hide when he really only mentions his tia in the role of guardian, and ofc people around him knew about Laura's death. However, considering the circumstances and unfairness of his friend's death in particular, that one is harder to squeeze out of him.

🍋 [LEMON] What is their kryptonite/ultimate weakness?

People. Whether it's helping them to a detriment even if it's too "late" to help them, or precious keepsakes from those long gone from his life, or people he currently cares about--no matter how they feel about him--you can really count on him to care a little too much about people in general.

SHOUA:

🍓 [STRAWBERRY] How do they feel about 'cute' things?

IT. IS. NOT HER THING. Even as a practical goth/metalhead she doesn't really dress with graphic tees or common symbols. Like, occasionally there'll be a skull or something emblazoned on what she wears, but for the most part it's very plain with the decorations coming in stitching or pinning that she's personally done to the clothes. Her wearing pastels/cute things/modest clothing are, in all seriousness, borderline triggering for her. She doesn't care if other people do it but she'll scrunch her nose if say, Vel does a stupid cute thing to garner that exact reaction out of her.

🥑 [AVOCADO] What will they never back down about, even if it makes them seem bad?

bro...A LOT OF THINGS? She's very stubborn. If jackrabbits are to Vel, I've toyed with bulldogs/boars for Shoua. She doesn't particularly care how she comes off. This does not mean, however, that she successfully avoids things that take advantage of her.....it just means that she overcompensates, for better or for worse, because it doesn't necessarily protect her all the same.

🥔 [POTATO] What do they have that others see as a flaw, but they don't care about?

I GUESS SEE ABOVE LMAO But, I think my real answer is that she doesn't say things very...nicely. She's blunt and fucks up and hurts feelings sometimes. She does apologize and quickly too, if she's hurt someone she cares about. That doesn't mean she really adjusts her language, that's her first barrier if that makes sense, and if people can see past that then they know her ergo she doesn't need to change it.

[marmolita]

I keep seeing posts about what the "real" aesthetic of the 90s was and it bugs me because there were multiple aesthetics in the 90s! This is missing many things (including all of men's fashion lol) but my personal experience of them involved at least the following:

(None of these pics are mine, I found them on image search and looked for stuff that looked pretty public, but if one is yours and you want an attribution lmk!)

Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper aesthetic: bright neon colors, geometric patterns, save the whales! Hypercolor t-shirts, hot pink everything, my personal tween fashion of oversized colorful t-shirts paired with plain black leggings. Popular in the early 90s, tapered off around idk 1994?

Grunge aesthetic: just-rolled-out-of-bed I don't give a shit feel, ripped jeans, band t-shirts with a flannel on top, messy hair, everything sucks and the world is shit so whatever!! Wallet in your pocket connected with a chain to your belt loop and a pair of Doc Marten boots, my sister's teenage look. Most popular in the mid-90s, like 92-97?

Delia's Catalog aesthetic: that cute look with spaghetti strap tops paired with wide leg cargo pants, lots of hair clips, maybe some platform sneakers and a pretty pink lace choker? Pens with puffballs on the back, designs of cute animals in little rows making borders, butterfly clips. Cap sleeve babydoll tees and babydoll dresses! This was the hot stuff in the mid-late 90s, like idk 95-99?

Take a spin on this one by turning everything black instead of pink and you get the Hot Topic mall goth look:

Everything black!! All the time!! Put some black fishnets under your cutoff denim shorts and slap a pentagram on your pencil box. Similar era I think iirc?

I can't find a good picture to illustrate the spin I'm thinking of as the last aesthetic I recall from the 90s but it's an aggressive sporty style that involves low rise sweats, crop tops, and facial and belly button piercings. White tanks and chains for guys with their jeans slung low. I feel like this started around 98ish and carried through to the 00s? I guess I would also put in this bucket the look of a crop top under a pair of overalls with dark lip liner and drawn on eyebrows, it feels similar.

Anyway all of that to say the 90s was not a monolith and had multiple fashion and graphic design trends over the course of the decade, so it's not really wrong to call any of them a 90s aesthetic but it's also not right to call any single one THE 90s aesthetic.

[cower-before-power]

Slippery When Wet: Part 1

Summary: An untimely accident in the shower leaves you injured and in need of rescue. Lucky for you, the object of your affections is more than willing to help.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

TW: swearing, nudity, implied sexual content, description of injury (nothing graphic), unintentional voyeurism? (idk i mean like voyeurism in the name of helping i’m not sure how to say it ha)

Link to A03 here

PART TWO NOW UP HERE

A/N: Well shit guys, here is part one of my attempt to write a humorous yet somewhat sexy piece for our favorite blindfolded sensei. I’m trying to branch out in my writing styles and Gojo was happy to tag along for the endeavor! PLEASE FORGIVE THE TITLE I KNOW ITS SO CRINGEY (I had like zero other ideas haha). Also a huge shoutout to my lovely friend @ghost-party who was kind enough to beta this, thanks my dear! I hope you all like it, now please enjoy, my sweet potatoes!

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This was ridiculous.

You were a shaman. A really strong shaman. You exorcised curses as easy as breathing. You could bring down (almost) anyone in a fight. You made evil tremble in fear. You were a strong, brave, badass woman.

And yet here you were.

On the floor of your shower, clutching your now (probably) dislocated shoulder.

Taken down by a fucking bar of soap.

“This is so unfair,” you whine to yourself, attempting for the millionth time to get off the floor. It’s no use; everything is slippery and you can’t get your feet under you. You wince as your shoulder is jostled.

Thank goodness you were at least able to reach up and shut the water off.

“Guess I’ll have to crawl to my phone,” you sigh, thinking of the scolding Shoko would probably give you when you told her what happened.

You grit your teeth, maneuvering yourself as best you can to push open the glass door of the shower. You manage to kick it open with one leg, before swinging painfully around into a better position to crawl.

That’s when you hear him.

“I have arrived! With coffee!”

Oh no.

OH NO.

Of course he would pick right now to come barge into your place. The man had no sense of manners; he simply showed up whenever he felt like it. You cannot count the times he’s sauntered in like he lives here, raiding your snack stash and sprawling his too long limbs all over your couch.

Normally, you didn’t mind. Being around Gojo was exhilarating. Ever since you first met him, you were oddly captivated. He was just so....enigmatic. He could be as petulant and pouty as a spoiled child, but somehow made it weirdly endearing. He was loud, often rude to his elders, entirely too flirty and bold, and definitely way too obsessed with sugar. Yet he was kind and doting to his students, a surprisingly decent friend, dedicated to (in your mind anyways) a worthy cause, and just plain fun to be around.

Not to mention he was absolutely, completely, unfairly attractive. Like, god tier attractive. You could stare at him all day like he was some work of art sculpted by fucking Michelangelo himself. It wasn’t surprising that after a while you were dealing with a crush the size of Mount Fuji.

Gojo Satoru was a vast, wild, mysterious ocean, and you just wanted to drown yourself in him.

On any other day but today. Today, you just wanted him to take his stupidly handsome self and disappear.

But.....you were in a lot of pain. Maybe if you called out, he could just slide your phone beneath the door? He didn’t need to know the horribly embarrassing details.

“I’m just finishing up from a shower, Gojo.”

You hear his footsteps coming closer.

“I’ll just wait in the living room then!”

You take a deep breath. “Actually, Gojo, I need a favour.”

A pause. Then a soft chuckle.

“Oh? A favour, eh?”

You feel your cheeks flushing, but you roll your eyes.

“Not that kind of favour, idiot! I need you to get my phone from the bedroom and slide it underneath the door.”

“Your phone?”

“Yes, my phone! I need to call Shoko.”

“And you can’t get it yourself because...”

You grit your teeth as a wave of pain washes over you. “Just fucking do it, please?”

“Are you having lady problems? Because I’m more than capable of getting you something. I do know what tampons are, you know.”

“What the-no!” You practically shout. “And who on earth says lady problems?? What are you, eighty?”

He snickers through the door. “Is Shoko your secret girlfriend then? Do you need her to come over to....relieve some post mission stress?”

You’re ready to tear your hair out. Why can’t the stupid idiot just do what he’s told for once?

“I’m not secretly dating anyone!”

It’s quiet outside the door for a moment. You think maybe he’s finally going to listen to you but then-

“You didn’t fall in the shower, did you?”

You don’t answer him.

“Oh ho!” He laughs, and even though you know he’s laughing at you, the sound is still like music to your ears. “You did! You actually slipped in the shower!”

“Why are you laughing? I’m injured here!” You groan, feeling your face burn in embarrassment.

“Awww, did you break your pride?”

“No, but I’m going to break your fucking neck,” you seethe, fingers on your good hand already flexing at the thought. “Just as soon as I get this shoulder back in. I think it’s dislocated.”

“Well, why didn’t you start with that? Hold on, I’m coming in.”

“No!” You screech, but it’s too late. He’s already pushing the door open (why hadn’t you locked it?), and stepping into the small room. You fumble to cover yourself as best you can, but you know it’s pretty futile. He’s going to see everything.

The thought makes you nervous, embarrassed and just the teensiest bit aroused.

“Get out, you degenerate!” you glare at him, trying to look intimidating. You’re painfully aware you probably just look ridiculous. “I’m not decent!”

“I can see that,” the bastard actually has the audacity to smirk at you. “Don’t worry, I won’t look more than I have to.”

“You shouldn’t be looking at all,” you huff, a violent tremor suddenly wracking your body. Damn, it was getting cold. “Is there a reason you’ve barged your way in here other than laugh at me, you perve?”

He puts a hand on his chest in mock affront. “Me? How dare you, pumpkin. I am a perfect gentleman. I’m only here to rescue the damsel in distress.”

“Perfect gentleman my ass,” you grumble, watching him turn to pull your towel off the back of the door. “What are you doing?”

He approaches you, towel slung over his shoulder. “I’m getting you off that cold tile. Shoko is away in Kyoto today, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

Before you can register it, he’s slid in behind you. You gasp in surprise when you feel his hands on your sides, just below your armpits and dangerously close to the chest area. Have they always been this large and warm? His fingertips glide gently against your damp skin as he adjusts his grip, and you feel a shiver unrelated to the cold slip down your spine.

He bends over, and another shiver snakes through you as his hot breath hits just below your ear.

“Upsie daisy now, pumpkin,” he breathes, and suddenly you’re standing upright. Pain streaks through you and you stumble back against him.

“Careful,” he murmurs, and you swear you feel his lips brush against your ear, light as a butterfly. Your whole body trembles; he feels warm and solid against your back. You want to sink into his chest, to burrow yourself into the heat radiating off him.

But instead you’re gently pushed forward, warmth of a more fuzzy kind enveloping you. You look down; he’s wrapped your towel around you.

“Step one complete!” His hands press against your lower back, and you find yourself being propelled out of the bathroom and towards your bedroom. He steers you to your bed before turning you around and pushing you gently to sit down.

“Owwwww,” you moan as you sink onto the bed, reaching to gingerly rub at your injured shoulder. You look up at Gojo, your face flushing once again.

He’d seen you naked. The man you were desperately into had seen you naked and here his was, standing before you looking completely unaffected. You can’t help but frown. Well, that was certainly a blow to the ego. He could at least look a little interested.

Someone else might say he was just being polite, but polite and Gojo were two words you wouldn’t put within three miles of each other.

“Now for step two,” Gojo announces, and you break out of your inner thoughts to find him standing directly in front of you. He gives you a cheeky grin, then lifts one knee and wedges it right between your legs.

You gasp. A heat suddenly sparks in your stomach. “What are you-“

He knocks your legs apart with one motion and slithers between them with the next. You choke on your breath.

“Brace yourself on the bed,” he orders. You grip the edge of the bed automatically, your eyes locked on his legs between yours. The heat inside you rises, both at his close proximity and the authoritative tone of his words.

One of his hands wraps around your chin to pull your gaze up to his blindfolded face. It’s a gentle but forceful movement, and you can’t help but feel a strong urge to sink to your knees before him.

“Don’t take your eyes off me,” he murmurs, and he hooks two fingers under the top of his blindfold. Your whole body tenses, a coiled spring of anticipation. What was he going to do? Show you his eyes? But why? You’d only seen his eyes once, just a brief peek during a training fight, but they were enough to knock you breathless.

Shit, was he going to kiss you?

He slips the black material down, and you know nothing else but blue.

Magnificent, stunning crystal blue. A cloudless summer sky, a shimmering lake of glass. Multi faceted sapphires glinting in the late afternoon light. The gateway into his Infinity, overwhelming and endless and utterly terrifying.

They’re even more beautiful than you remember.

You’re unconsciously moving closer. You can’t help it. His eyes are so piercing and his breath is so warm and his lips are so close....

“ARRRRRGGGHHHH!”

You screech as pain rips through you, the horrid crunching noise of your shoulder popping back into place echoing through the room. Tears slip unbidden from your eyes as you glare up at the chuckling man above you.

“You absolute ass!” You cry, your voice sharp and edged with pain. “Couldn’t you give me a little warning??”

“It’s better if you’re distracted,” he winks at you, hands squeezing your shoulder to make sure it was fully in place. You suck in a breath; a few more tears make their way out of your eyes. “The less tense you are, the less it will hurt.”

“Could have fooled me!”

His grin fades at the sight of your watery eyes, his own blues narrowing in what almost looks like concern. You’re taken by surprise when the pad of one thumb lightly brushes under your left eye, collecting the moisture and wiping it away. He repeats the action with the other eye, his touch as gentle as if you were made of china.

“No more tears, pumpkin,” he says quietly, almost too quiet for you to hear. His thumb slides down your cheek like a raindrop on a window pane. It catches the corner of your lips, parting them just slightly, enough to let a quiet noise of astonishment slip through.

The air is heavy between you. The moment feels too soft, too intimate for just two friends and colleagues. Your heart flutters erratically in your chest, hummingbird-like thrumming echoing in your ears. He tilts his head, just slightly, like he’s considering. Like there’s pieces of him that want to pull away, and pieces that want to do something probably completely reckless and stupid.

Like kiss you.

It’s too much. If you don’t do something, you’ll explode. You want to take the chance, to make the choice for him. But you choke on the moment, on the fear and doubt that still clings to you like winter clings to early spring.

The thumb resting on your chin swipes against your skin once, and then his hand drops.

You blink at the movement, and the charged atmosphere dissipates like early morning fog in the gold light of sunrise. He steps back from between your legs, and you wonder if you are hallucinating the very, very faint tinge of pink on the tips of his ears. He quickly pulls his blindfold back up, obscuring his mesmerizing orbs from your gaze once again.

“On to step three,” he says cheerfully, as if what just occurred had never happened. He turns and begins to rummage in some of your dresser drawers.

“What’s step three?” You ask, and you’re almost afraid to. Your poor heart is flitting back and forth between affection and lust and you don’t know how much more it can take. That super electric moment has left you as weak in the knees as a newborn calf.

“Getting you into some clothes,” he answers, turning around holding an over large sleep shirt and, to your horror, a pair of underwear. And not just any underwear. A little pair of red lacy underwear you save for when you have a very special date.

“Get your paws off those!” You shriek, the image of the red fabric dangling from one of his long fingers making your stomach churn with desire.

“It’s the only pair left,” he smirks, and you realize with sinking horror that you had forgotten to do your laundry-again.

“This is just not my day,” you moan, internally cursing the universe as it was. “Just leave me, I can get dressed on my own. You’ve done more than enough.”

“Pumpkin, everyone owns sexy underwear,” he shrugs, now twirling the offending article between his fingers. “It’s nothing to be flustered over.”

Oh great, now you’re thinking about his sexy underwear.

“Can you not fling them around so casually?” you whine, holding out your hand. “Give them here!”

He ignores you, instead arranging them so they are the right way for you to wear. You make grabby hands for them-you’ll get dressed yourself, this has already been mortifying enough- but he holds them just out of reach.

“Relax, will you?” He sighs, and before you can reply he’s sinking to his knees in front of you. Your eyes widen- Gojo Satoru kneeling is not a common sight.

He looks up at you, waiting. You swallow the lump that has settled in your throat. You’re in this deep, might as well go the whole nine yards. You nod, and he gives you an overly saucy grin.

One at a time, slowly and carefully, he lifts your feet and slides the soft fabric over them.

“Stand up,” he commands, and as before, you listen on instinct. You get shakily to your feet, eyes never leaving his kneeling figure.

He drags the underwear lazily up your legs, fingers grazing your skin as he goes. Time moves in slow motion, and everything around you magnifies. The feeling of his touch is electrified a hundred fold, the synapses between your nerves shooting off like fireworks. You forget how to breathe. You forget how to think.

When his hands reach the edge of your towel, you’re sure your pounding heart can be heard halfway around the world. The heaviness in the air is back; you feel like you will suffocate with the weight of the tension. You can’t see his eyes but his face is upturned, like the crystal orbs are gazing right into your own.

You wish you could see them. What would you see? Lust? Tenderness? Neutrality?

Maybe you don’t want to know.

Somehow he manages to maneuver the material without even lifting the towel. His hands glide over your hips, and you can’t help but flinch a little at the touch.

“Sorry,” you murmur as he stills his actions. “Ticklish there.”

He huffs a quiet laugh and resumes. The fabric comes to rest where it should be, but he doesn’t let go of you. Instead, he takes a finger and runs it all along the inside of the band, straightening the elastic. You suck in a breath and you hope he can’t feel your body trembling. The embers in your gut flare hotly to life, fiery hunger rearing its beastly head.

Was he trying to kill you? Did he even know what he was doing to you? You were about one more touch away from combusting into a cacophony of flames.

“There,” his words once more shatter the suffocating atmosphere as he removes his hands from you. You seriously don’t know how much more of this you can take. The constant shifts between normality and this...whatever it is, is driving you mad.

He stands up and takes the shirt he grabbed, plopping it over your head before you can say anything. You work your good arm through yourself; he carefully guides the injured one into place. You wince with the movement, a part of you wishing it would cause more tears so he would wipe them away again. But it doesn’t, and once the shirt falls over your body you reach underneath to remove your towel. It’s a long shirt, almost to your knees, so you don’t bother mentioning anything about pants. If he knelt before you again, you just might faint.

“All done,” he claps his hands together, surveying his work with a satisfied nod. “The Knight in shining armor has completed his mission! I’m pretty amazing, don’t you think?”

“Ugh,” you plop back down on the bed, a scowl on your face. “Don’t pat your own back for having human decency.”

“You could show a little gratitude, you know,” he chides, wagging a finger a you. “Someone else might have left you to struggle.”

“Well, I guess I do owe you,” you sigh, running a hand through your damp hair. “So thanks, Gojo. I appreciate it.” You fix him with a stern glare. “But don’t go telling anyone about this. I don’t need the whole world knowing I fell like an idiot and had to be rescued. And please, please don’t tell anyone you saw me naked.”

“Are you still embarrassed about that?” He asks, shaking his head with a grin. “Pumpkin, you have nothing to be ashamed about. You’re banging.”

Your cheeks flare with heat. “Banging? You are so lame, please never say that again.” You rub at your flaming face, his words (thought ridiculous) still making your heart flutter. Well, at least you know he didn’t find you repulsive.

“Look, if you’re still gonna be all flustered about it, let’s just even the score,” he says, and his grin turns mischievous. “I don’t mind.”

“What do you- excuse me???” You slap your hands over your face, the image of him just casually ripping off his jacket and shirt dancing on your closed eyelids. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’ve seen you naked, and it’s making you think I’ve got some sort of one up on you, right? This will just put us back on even footing. Well, as much as we can be,” the sound of his pants hitting the floor makes your mouth go dry. “I’m still the most powerful, funniest, bestest looking Jujutsu Sorcerer.”

“Your ego is so big it’s gonna block out the sun,” you press your hands harder into your eyeballs. You hear the whooshing of more fabric being discarded, though it’s barely discernible over the sound of your rapid breathing and racing heart.

“You know what they say, if you’ve got it flaunt it,” he chirps. “Alright, have at it, pumpkin!”

You shouldn’t look. Not because you don’t want to, but if you do you’ll know what is absolutely not warming your bed at night and then you’ll probably just feel worse. But, you were overwhelmingly curious. Just a quick look couldn’t hurt.

Right?

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

Stay Tuned for Part 2 :)

(A few people asked to be tagged when this was posted @inaflashimagine @satorudicks @kuxredere so here you go haha if you want a tag for part two let me know)

[eclectic-confusion]

Neighbors - Sherlock x FtM!Reader

Hey y'all! This is my first ever x reader fic and I'm super excited to share it!!! Also, my asks are open for any x reader requests you might have! I won't do smut, tho. Enjoy!!!

Part One - Part Two

AO3 and Wattpad links.

Word Count: 2147

Chapter: 1/?

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

Interesting Meetings

~ Reader POV ~

You sigh deeply as you set the last box on the floor, wiping the sweat from your brow. You looked around your new flat with a small smile. It was an amazing space; you could barely believe your rent was so cheap here in cozy little 221C Baker Street. After taking a quick drink of water you got to work unpacking. 

It didn't take long since you didn't have too much to begin with. You'd only brought the essentials, and planned to have the rest of your belongings mailed to you by a friend back home.

A loud crash rang out from above as you broke down the last of the boxes. You paused for a moment as someone yelled. 

"SHERLOCK! WHAT THE HELL?!" An agitated voice questioned. 

"BORED!" Another, more monotone, voice responded.

There was a long pause and you wondered if the two people were having an angry staring contest.

The landlady, Mrs. Hudson, had vaguely warned you about the upstairs neighbors, but you hadn't had a chance to meet them before moving in. After the little domestic they'd just had, you figured some homemade cookies would do them good, as well as give you an opportunity to introduce yourself.

With a decisive nod you tucked away the (now flat) boxes and walked to the bathroom to shower, thinking about what type of cookies you were going to make.

How about chocolate chip? That's kinda basic...sugar? Not too hard to make, but a bit plain. Oh, wait! Gingerbread cookies! Yep, that's the one.

One quick scrub later, you stood in front of the mirror and admired your outfit. Black jeans and a graphic tee - absolutely perfect, in your opinion. You ran your fingers through your (h/l) (h/c) hair and smiled, heading out to the kitchen.

"Shit..." You muttered, realizing that your kitchen was void of anything edible, let alone cookie ingredients. "Right, new flat. Guess I'll have to go grocery shopping." 

As if on cue, there was a firm knock on your door. You opened it to see Mrs. Hudson with a oddly mischievous smile on her face.

"Hello dearie, have you eaten yet?"

"No, not yet; I need to go shopping. Why do you ask?" You said as your stomach grumbled loudly. "Or maybe I'll order in." You chuckled.

"Oh, nonsense! I was just about to make dinner for the boys, why don't you join us?" 

"I wouldn't want to impose..." You said, not sure if it was okay that Mrs. Hudson was inviting you to someone else's flat. "Besides, I haven't had the chance to introduce myself yet."

"No time like the present!" She said, grabbing your arm and whisking you up the stairs.

"A-Are you sure this is okay?" You stuttered, confused by her behavior; Mrs. Hudson wasn't the pushy type.

"Of course! Besides, I think you and Sherlock will get along very well." She said with a wink. You blushed brightly as you reached the door to the other flat. 

Oh my Gallifrey this sweet old lady is trying to set me up with someone-

Your thoughts were cut short by Mrs. Hudson pulling you into the flat with her.

"Yoo-hoo! I'm here for dinner!" She said happily, letting go of you.

The room you were in had a warm, homey feeling to it. Looking around you saw a comfy-looking couch on the back wall and a desk littered with piles upon piles of papers between two windows overlooking the street below. Two armchairs stood in front of a fireplace - a black one to the right and a brown one on the left. Looking to the kitchen you saw...lab equipment?

"Who're you?"

Your eyes landed on a pale man with dark, curly hair and piercing blue eyes, looking at you with an emotionless expression.

"Oh, hi! I'm (Y/N), I just moved in downstairs."

"I invited him to dinner, Sherlock. Be nice." Mrs. Hudson warned softly as she passed him, patting his shoulder.

The man, Sherlock, rolled his eyes and looked back down to the microscope in front of him. You shuffled awkwardly, watching Mrs. Hudson bustle around the kitchen.

"You can sit, you know." Sherlock said without looking up.

"Right, thanks." You walked over and sat across from Sherlock, giving him a quick once-over.

He's not very polite; he barely noticed my presence. Must be tired; he's still in his pajamas. There's callouses on his left hand, obviously left by strings - plays an instrument. Violin, maybe?

You were pulled from your thinking as a cup of tea was set in front of you.

"Thank you, Mrs. H."

"Of course. How does garlic chicken pasta sound?"

"That'd be amazing." You said with a smile, taking a drink of your tea. Somehow, it was just the way you liked it.

Whoa, Mrs. H is a friggin' magician.

"Where's John? I thought he'd be joining us." Mrs. Hudson asked.

"He went on another date."

"Oh, good for him! I hope this one clicks."

"Doubt it."

"Why do you say that?" You asked. "Were they rude or something?"

Sherlock sighed deeply, looking at you with annoyance.

"There was a slightly faded tan line of a ring on her left hand, she must've recently taken it off after wearing it for a long time, most likely a wedding band. So she's going through a divorce; but she had a chain around her neck, barely visible above her shirt. Now why would someone wear a necklace without showing it off? Sentiment - she kept the ring, meaning she stills cares for them and wants to get back together. It's possible they're taking a break, but doubtful since she's dating. And going by the state of her knees she's been sleeping around, hoping to make her former spouse jealous. Her and John won't last more than two dates."

"Wow." You breathed, shamelessly staring at the man in front of you. "That's...that's bloody brilliant."

"I know." He said as a small smirk grew on his face.

His gaze lingered on you a moment more before he ducked his head to continue working with the microscope.

I've never met someone like this...he has the same talent I do.

"You know Sherlock, (Y/N) here's starting his new job at Scotland Yard tomorrow. Isn't that right, (Y/N)?" Mrs. Hudson asked, winking at you over Sherlock's head.

"Yea! I'll be head of the forensics team." You smiled brightly as you spoke, feeling quite proud. Sherlock's head shot up, his brow furrowed.

"You're replacing Anderson?"

"Yea, but he'll still be on the team from what I heard."

Sherlock grinned brightly and you felt your heart skip a beat.

Oh fuck he's cute

"Lestrade finally decided to fire him. Took him long enough, I've been telling him to that for ages."

"What do you mean? Are you on the forensics team?" Sherlock scoffed and shook his head.

"No, I'm much too intelligent for a job like that." You bristled at his statement, but he didn't seem to notice. "I'm a consulting detective. Scotland Yard calls me when they need help - which is always." He finished smugly. You swallowed your indignance and strained a smile.

"So I suppose we'll be working together, then?"

"Most likely. Just try not to be too stupid and we should be fine." You looked at him incredulously, all thoughts of politeness flying out the window.

"Excuse you?" You said, seeing Mrs. Hudson put her face in her hand out of the corner of your eye.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"I've been here for ten minutes and you've already insulted my intelligence twice." You seethed, crossing your arms.

"Did I? I hadn't noticed." He said casually, returning to his microscope. You stood and turned to Mrs. Hudson, who was now staring at Sherlock disapprovingly.

"Sorry Mrs. H, but I'll be heading out now. Thank you for the tea." You said before turning your gaze back on Sherlock. "And I've got a bit of advice for you, since you were so eager to give me some. Next time you're bored, trying playing your violin instead of breaking things. Much less destructive."

You left the flat quickly, striding downstairs and out the door into the crisp London evening after grabbing your coat.

Who the hell does that guy think he is?

You started walking, hoping that some fresh air would help you calm down. Before long you found yourself in a small park a few blocks away from Baker Street. You wandered for a bit, admiring the scenery until the sky had become properly dark, at which point you decided to go home.

Sherlock thinks he's all high and mighty - how dare he insult me like that? And now we'll have to work together? Ugh.

A loud ring from a nearby phone booth wrenched you from your thoughts, making you jump.

"What the hell...?" You muttered, looking curiously at the booth. With a quick glance around you opened the door and stepped in, picking up the phone on its last ring.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mr. (Y/L/N). Do you see the camera on the building to your left?"

"Yes." You watched in awe as the camera moved until it was no longer facing you. Then another camera ahead of you moved, as well as one behind you. "Who the hell are you?"

"Get in the car and find out." The snide voice said, the line dying after. A black car rolled up in front of the booth as you hung up the phone.

Aw hell nah that's how people die nope no thanks

You exited the booth and ignored the car, continuing your walk home instead. To your horror, the car began to follow you. The window closest to you rolled down, revealing a young woman.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Nope. Not today, Satan." You replied, picking up your pace. The car sped up as well, easily matching you.

"Why not?" You sighed and stopped, turning to her.

"Don't you realize how creepy this is? I don't know you! I don't even know who called me, or what they want!"

"If I tell you will you get in the car?"

"Depends." You said, raising your eyebrow.

"The man on the phone was Mycroft Holmes. I'm his PA, Anthea. And he wants to talk to you about Sherlock." She said curtly, opening the car door and scooting over to make room for you.

"Am I supposed to know who this 'Mycroft' is?"

"No, but you know Sherlock, don't you?"

What does he have to do with this? This Mycroft guy must know him. Wait - what was Sherlock's last name? I don't think he told me. But I have a sneaking suspicion it might be 'Holmes'. So they're related, or this guy's his enemy. It'll be interesting either way.

"Fine, alright, whatever." You huffed, getting in the car. The girl next to you smiled and began typing on her phone. The ride was painfully silent. Before long you pulled up to an abandoned warehouse.

"He's inside." Anthea said, still not looking up.

"Alright then." You sighed, getting out of the car. Just ahead you saw a man in a beige suit leaning on an umbrella.

He doesn't really look like Sherlock, but the fashion choices are similar. Kinda has an evil vibe. He's well-dressed, he must have a good job. CEO? Corporate executive?

"Hello, Mr. (Y/L/N). I'm glad you decided to come." Mycroft greeted, his voice posh and condescending. You gave him another look,

CEO's usually have security personnel, but it's only us two here, unless you count the driver and Anthea. His posture's relaxed; he's not nervous or scared, so he saw no need for security. Wait, that's not a normal umbrella; it's a sword - oh, and a gun. Only a government official could have a hidden weapon like that with a cocky attitude to boot.

"What does the government want with me?" You asked, standing with your arms crossed a few feet away. After all, this guy basically stalked you and brought you here - you couldn't trust him.

"Ah, I knew you were clever." He said with a smile that sent shivers down your spine, not that you showed it. "As you know, I wanted to speak with you about Sherlock Holmes."

Ha, I knew it! So they are related. Mycroft's too close to Sherlock's age to be the Dad or an uncle, so...brother?

"What about him?"

"I'm prepared to give you a large sum of money every month in exchange for...information about him."

"You're offering me money to spy on Sherlock?" You grimaced. "Look dude, I might not like him that much, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna spy on him. That's really creepy." You stated, turning around and walking towards the car.

"I'll be in touch if you change your mind!" Mycroft yelled. You ignored him and got in, asking the driver to take you home.

[grubauer]

Okay so if you were Mat’s personal stylist, how would you dress him?

now youre asking the good questions…

honestly i dont think his style is that bad however the first thing i would do as his stylist is burn those cheetah print looking shorts that he wore to the lake (yk the one im talking about) because i HATE them like seriously what in the 1980s drug kingpin was that, and then throw out the grey shirt from that post earlier because that was just… no. but id definitely exchange it for something that fits better, make sure he wears less atrocious colours (the red pants, as much as they brought out what needed to be brought out, were not it), add more navy suits to his collection for the whores on tumblr (i.e. me), and i think it would be my civic duty to get him five inch inseam shorts to add to his closet because we as a society are being robbed of mat barzal thigh so definitely that too… and yea i think thats it

as for how i would dress him on a regular basis… literally just a plain shirt (maybe a graphic tee sometimes), pants or jeans that ~accentuate~ his thighs, a flannel for self indulgent reasons, and white sneakers i guess

[alien-baby-boy]

disclaimer: this was written on 5/25/2021 then copy & pasted from my notes app on 6/7/2021. some of the author's notes will reference that this is my first fic using alternating pronouns, but i've practiced since then. i'm glad people wanted to see this purely self indulgent fluff. don't repost, obviously, but reblogging is okay :)

Shopping Trip

by alien-baby-boy

[tags] L/Light, fluff, clothes shopping, clothes sharing, bribery, he/they pronouns for L, because i said so, nonbinary L, cute, crossdressing, innuendos

-

[summary]

"I will bribe you with sweets"

L hummed in thought, considering Light's offer.

"I'll also do that thing you like with my tongue, if you cooperate"

L grabbed his hand as they stood, "Let's go"

-

Light sighed when he saw L wearing a plain white shirt and jeans, "Don't you have anything else to wear? People are going to think you're homeless."

"I don't care if they do, but I suppose I could wear one of your hoodies if necessary," L started looking through Light's closet as they spoke, "Light has a lot of clothing"

Light picked out a navy blue hoodie from his closet. "Wear this one, I've outgrown it & it'll compliment your skin tone. Do you have any other jeans?"

L took off his shirt, uncaring that Light was looking at his prominent ribcage and tiny waist as he slipped the hoodie on. "Mhm, a black pair."

Light examined the jeans, they were fairly stylish in an emo way and a much skinnier cut than what L usually wore. "Put those on"

L stepped in his jeans, they were a much better fit than the blue ones, with a rip in each knee showing a peek of smooth pale skin. "Light is aware I'm not a doll for dressing up, yes?"

"L is aware they are horrible at choosing outfits, yes?" Light teased with a smile. "C'mon, we're going shopping."

"No." L scrambled to think of an excuse, "I have work."

Light waved his hand in the air as if pushing what L said away, "It's Sunday. Your work can wait."

Light thought of ways to sweeten the offer as L shook their head. Light thought L was very pretty, and they'd look even prettier if they put effort into their appearance. Or at least let Light put in the effort for L. "I will bribe you with sweets"

L hummed in thought, considering Light's offer. He didn't really mind shopping, but L wanted to push his limits before agreeing too quickly. L's detective training could come in handy for every day life, after all. Plus, he was a bit of a brat.

Light smirked as he thought of a promise that would guarantee his companion's acceptance of going shopping & being dressed up "I'll also do that thing you like with my tongue, if you cooperate"

L grabbed his hand as they stood, "Let's go"

-

Light held L's hand as they walked into a department store, "Knew you'd see it my way"

L hummed around the cherry lollipop in their mouth, discreetly scanning the building out of paranoia. Thankfully it was nearly empty with just a few workers and some customers L decided didn't look concerning.

Light was used to L's quirks by now and waited until he was done looking around before leading the way to shirts and jackets. "What size are you?" "Small? You really need to eat more than sweets."

L rolled his eyes, "One lecture at a time, Light. My eating habits are perfectly healthy and a fast metabolism is nothing to be worried over."

Light sighed, mentally shelving the conversation for another more private time. "Okay, Ryu. Size?"

"I'm not entirely sure. A small should be fine."

"What, you've never been clothes shopping before?" Light glanced at L, who had finished their lollipop and was absentmindedly biting their thumbnail, "Don't answer that."

Light handed L a soft gray v-neck sweater, "You should try this. It'll bring out your eyes."

"Okay. It's very soft. Is that all?" L carefully placed the sweater in their basket so it wouldn't become wrinkled.

Light laughed at L's question before gently squeezing his hand, "No, Ryu, that's only one thing. Let's get ten things for you to at least try on."

L paled, which Light didn't think was possible. L felt Light cup his face and stroke under his cheekbone as Light softly instructed "Hey, look at me? You'll be fine. It's just clothes, nothing you don't like, and you can take as many breaks as you want." He turned his head to kiss the inside of Light's wrist, just over the band of Light's watch.

"Thank you, Light, you're very reassuring. Ten isn't that big of a number, I just wasn't expecting it."

Light placed a gentle kiss on L's forehead. "Let's pick things out one at a time, instead of worrying about the total. Tell me if you like something, ok?"

After nearly ten minutes of looking around, L found something that looked like a very long sweatshirt in a nice pale blue color, "I like this."

Light glanced over at L and the item in their hands, unsure if L knew what it was or if they were even okay with crossdressing, "Ryu, that's a dress."

"So? I like this." L gave Light a stubborn look, crossing his arms over his chest as he replied.

"You'll look very pretty." Light kissed L's cheek.

L smiled up at Light as he placed it in their basket.

Light continued his search for stylish clothing for L. It wasn't that hard, considering L liked neutral colors with the occasional pastel. Eventually, he saw a pair of black thigh high socks and started thinking 'Oh, L would look amazing in these. Would he like them? They're pretty soft' Light called him over, "Hey, Ryu, what do you think of these?"

L glanced over Light's shoulder at the socks, "Black socks? I'll try them on, if you really want me to, but you know I don't like wearing socks."

"I know you don't like wearing normal socks, but these go up to your thigh, and I think you'll look really good" Light unashamedly checked L out, looking at their body up and down, "Really really good"

L rolled their eyes again, sometimes they forgot despite Light's intelligence and usual maturity, he was still a teenager at 19. "Calm down, Light. Maybe I won't even let you see me wear them."

Light gently squeezed L's hand before kissing it in apology, "Sorry, I got carried away. Did you find anything else you liked?"

L couldn't help but smile shyly at Light's affection and nodded "Mhm, Light will see them when I say he can. Did you get anything?"

"No, I don't like these sort of causal clothes"

"Really? I would have assumed otherwise, with your age & all the sweatshirts you own."

"Those are just for working out, Ryu. Not all of us wear jeans to exercise, you know" Light teased L.

They went to the dressing rooms for L to try on the outfits they picked. Including a few graphic tee shirts and alternative styles Light wouldn't have guessed L would like, a few new jeans, and merchandise for bands Light didn't recognize. Some things were eliminated if L didn't like the fit or the fabric, but there was just over a dozen things kept. Finally, L was trying on the last outfit.

Light forgot to breath for a few seconds when he saw his companion's outfit of an oversized sweater dress that was thankfully short enough to show off his lean legs and black thigh socks that contrasted beautifully with his pale skin. Light's mind went to the gutter as he imagined doing that thing with his tongue to L right now, without even taking off his dress. Light quickly regained control of himself as he breathed out "Wow. ...You look so beautiful. Please say you'll wear that again soon."

L gave Light a mischievous smile, enjoying the extra attention Light was giving him, all because of an admittedly comfortable dress. "Hm, I might. What sort of occasion would Light suggest it for?"

"Oh, you know, everyday wear or lounging around...maybe in bed?" Light looked at L hopefully.

L finally broke their expression to chuckle, kissing Light's cheek before going back into the dressing room, "That sounds perfect."

-

[end notes]

Ryu is just a nickname of Ryuzaki, pronounced Re you, since Light can't call L his name in public. i've never written alternating pronouns before, i tried to keep it fairly even & not switch midsentence, so the fic is easier to read. i hope i did it well. til next time :)

[paper-cloud]

i. the crushing weight of what happens next

part of "(there will be a) tomorrow"

fandom: prospect (2018) characters: ezra, cee rating: T words count: ~3K context: post-canon general warnings/tags: see series masterlist warnings/tags for this chapter: ezra's pov. angst. not graphic descriptions of wounds, blood and amputated limbs. mentions of minor characters' death. (probably very) inaccurate but anyways vague descriptions of medical treatments and post-anesthesia symptoms. taglist: @ravensmutty @buttercup--bee @thegreenkid (again, thank you all for your interest and encouragement! :3) @krissology @ezrasarm @bonktime (please forgive my nerve, i won't tag you in the next chapters unless you'll explicitly ask me to! just thought about someone else who might be interested and you guys are AMAZINGLY talented and inspiring "prospect"/ezra writers. it's not my intention to waste precious moments of your time! 🤡

[SERIES MASTERLIST] [MAIN MASTERLIST]

He'd have thought it was almost ironic – opening his eyes to the light only to see nothing. To feel pain.

He'd have laughed about it, most likely. A bit later, he'd have acknowledged it was a reasonably fair compromise; for him and any other wretch that'd ever dared play dice with darkness and miraculously made it out alive.

And in the very end he'd come to laugh at himself, too.

He knows the drill. Someone who trades their own life with the contract of the highest bidder doesn't see the universe in black and white, let alone is in a position to draw the hypothetical line between the two of them.

Must be an even more wicked universe than he's ever cared about, then.

At least, that's where the struggle of opening his eyes made him stumble upon; when a blade of light thrust through that hint of a gap he'd pushed himself to create in the middle, resonating through the dark coils of unconsciousness like a harsh, unforgiving bell.

A skilled mariner over silky rivers of natural redundancy and rapids of professional edges, Ezra is a man who can appreciate a sharp wit when he recognizes one.

That was too much even for him.

Floundering in between a blinding whiteness and a black hole that wasn't even completely black, but permeated by a thick, suffocating haze that filled every ghost haunting his mind with its stench. With the color of diabolically lush leaves.

Forest— spores— poison— death.

It hadn't been enough to let him dangle in apnea above a roaring vortex of lifeless emerald; take him away from the grey flow whose elusiveness he'd come to appreciate more than he'd ever hated to endure its chaos— from the bubble built on the routine series of one last jobs that, in the end, never really were.

There'd been a moment when, from the higher parts of the room, his pupils tumbled down, tripping over a patch of green discreetly lurking in a corner.

He almost threw up.

It had taken him a while to clear out the misty grit clotted in his corneas— focus on white walls, light wood paneling... a harmless seedling in a pot.

He'd breathed heavily, deeply. He sure hadn't got much relief from it. Still, he'd been able to hear its sound, louder than he'd ever heard it before, the musical, cooling mesh of oxygen particles in and out of his lungs almost begging his fingers to be touched.

Oxygen.

Fresh air.

Had he been less sore – less convinced it was just the residual effects of anesthesia pulling pranks on him –, he would have burst out laughing. Even more so if some poor soul of the medical staff nearby would have called for reinforcements from the other side of the space station before storming into his room.

He'd be laughing now, too. The best he can manage is sitting on his bed, leaning his back on the headboard – which is what he's struggling to do right now— and well, sometimes the room lighting still slightly bothers him. Of course, with all the painkillers and antibiotics they've given him, he wouldn't feel like the wound on his stomach is swallowing the entire arsenal of stitches and bandages.

He just wouldn't like her to get the wrong idea.

He blinks several times, like a man who no longer trusts his eyes. How can he, when they're burning like that, in such a different fire from the one from days before – damp and flickering? For reasons he can imagine, she seems to be faltering. Totally beyond his comprehension, he could swear she's smiling at him. Something inside his ribcage creaks oddly, while the curve of his chest arches upward.

"Birdie."

It's just a huff of breath, weak and hoarse, yet scratches his throat all the same, in a way that its walls feel studded with rock spurs. Actually, Ezra doesn't remember talking since they left the Green behind – which, being him, is saying something – and it's like an eternity has passed since their pod docked up there.

The nurse who let her into his room has just left and Cee sinks her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. She's still smiling— just the faded shadow of a smile, now that he takes a better look at her.

"How's your wound?"

It sounds a lot less plain than he expected.

She hasn't moved towards him any further, and for now she's not showing any hints at wanting to. In her irises, Ezra recognizes thumping stars and cerulean clouds, all clustered in the black circle cut by the large porthole next to his bed. All before catching the thin mist veiling them. As if she did want to reach those stars, let herself get carried away by those streams of bluish dust, but she had no idea how or what to do there.

He looks down, the borders of the bandages over his abdomen slightly raised under his black short-sleeved tee. He clears his throat.

"S'healin' nicely", he says, with a deliberate lightheartedness that costs him a sharp, bizarre inflection in his voice. He closes his eyes soon after, tilting his head condescendingly. "That's how the nurse feels about it, anyway... S'not like I can feel much more right now."

This reminds him of those vacuous moments between brief, chaotic waking states and delirious dreams. When he'd managed to reconnect some essential key points scattered around in the talks of surgeons and nurses; the weariness he felt from simply gathering he was on a space station due to enter the orbit of Mesos in three cycles and something standard hours. All while his only solid reference point – the only indisputable proof he was still alive – was the sequence of beeps chirped by the medical monitor perched nearby. Constant, not monotonous. Friendly, even. Sometimes, he actually comes to miss it.

"A trust fall to the extreme, I'd guess", he snorts, a sly laugh as weak and heavy as the words trudging out of his mouth. As the whole rest of him.

Whatever answer she's considering, Cee freezes it in a quick purse of her lips – maybe a nod, but for his own good he'd rather be doubtful. Then she starts looking around.

There's a chair under the board firmly anchored to the opposite wall – probably a desk or something he's never needed to test, whatsoever. She grabs it and puts it next to his bed. She sits down, bringing her legs to her chest, squeezing them in her arms.

Waiting for what, Ezra has no idea, and he's afraid she doesn't have any, either.

He doesn't speak, though, nor does he encourage her to do the same. Her pearly gaze roams steadily but unhurriedly from him to somewhere beyond him, her nose buried in the gap between her knees. He studies her carefully, two purple crescents above her cheeks, a few hair strands swinging down her face without her wiping them out. The nights she's slept through haven't been any more peaceful than his.

Trust, he recalls in the meantime.

It sure brings an odd taste to his mouth. Something close to sweaty spacesuits, grimy paths and gone-off ration bars. A single word for two human beings forced to share the same air filter for days; that, and the image of a dead body left to rot miles behind and the desperate commitment not to end up in the same way.

His gaze just happens to trip over his right side, taking in the deflated sleeve over the emptiness that saved his life. When he lifts it back to the girl, meeting her eyes just before they can flutter away, he realizes they were both looking at the same spot. And he realizes something else— something he's already understood, yet not quite.

There is no tube binding them now.

"Why d'you do it?", he mumbles a split second later, almost like somehow the thread of his question has immediately knotted to the one of his previous thought.

He huffs. He shouldn't even have asked her, in all honesty. Seeing her like this, at least he should have put it in another way, danced around it, it's not like he’s never been good at stalling, after all—

"Comin' back", Ezra says instead, and when he swallows, he mainly does it to send his heart back down his throat. If he'd died without being given the last chance to be this straightforward on this matter, he would have probably kicked his ass all the way to the other side. 

This time, Cee doesn't avoid his gaze. He shouldn't be surprised by how collected she looks, given the calmness she handled his infected arm with and then told him about when she used to slip into Jata Bhalu carcasses. But he can't help it when he thinks she can't be much older now than what she was then.

He watches her breathing in, wobbling her pupils here and there, seemingly considering his words. She's not afraid, not any more than what she seemed to be when she walked into his room. Maybe she's just better than him at playing pretend – but this, he can't tell whether it's more of a good than a bad thing. Especially for her.

One thing he can tell is that she's not the same girl who pointed a trembling gun at him before running away into the woods. He knows she's not afraid.

He knows...

So is it the hunter's instinct he has to blame if he feels she is?

"Guess I've seen too much death on that forsaken moon to just... turn my back on one I can help– one I can do something about."

If he was standing in front of an entire mountain crumbling down into the ocean, he wouldn't hear its sound. ‘Wouldn't even be the worst he deserves. She did hesitate before adding the last few words, but Ezra refuses to believe she did that because she was afraid of hurting him. He may be a wretch, but not a fool.

Kevva, for a man who's always managed to untwist himself from far tougher situations with the tangles of his tongue alone, he's sure having a deal of trouble – and he wishes he could put all the blame on his current physical condition.

There is no word he doesn't have to weigh carefully now, to prevent it from taking too sharp edges once out of his lips. He may float around it forever. But once he's let her go without saying anything, he'll hardly find the courage to look within himself again, more than after any other job that hardened his hands with calluses and tarnished his eyes with blood.

He doesn't know for sure. In fact, everything he was sure to know – about the turning direction of the universe and the one of the wheels in his head – has already collapsed in front of him, tracing a flaming tail. An unforgiving meteor following a trajectory far beyond his grasp.

He just knows silence scares him, in a way that a wrong word will never do again. It terrifies him. More than as a talkative person, as a castaway on a hostile moon for too many cycles to keep their count – with the only company of a mute. Silence is green; the green of the most poisonous pollen, lethal in his brain just like toxic spores enveloped in his lungs. The green of snake scales ready to stand and scratch his flesh until liquid crimson pours out of it.

And at the end of the day, this is the only fucking thing he can tell himself to know without having his guts churning and chest heaving a beat later.

"Stop looking at me like that."

It's more of an exhausted prayer than an annoyed remark. Ezra blinks, stunned by the sudden return from the shapeless stream of his thoughts.

"Like what?"

"Like you're looking for the words to thank me", Cee settles back into her chair and this time she lets one leg touch the floor, "Tell me you owe me, and you– you're sorry about what you did."

Ezra sniffles. "Would it be bad?" 

"No, it—". She closes her eyes for a moment, clenching her jaw. "Just no good", she breathes out, calmer.

And the discordant note in those words conjures up ghosts not yet vague enough for Ezra to be able to tolerate them without something twinging inside him— like a violent flutter of wings. Voices groping their way up ravels of compromises. Damon, deep in the forest. Himself, with the mercenaries in the Queen's Lair. Cee, days before that. After he—

She's right— those words she hasn't said yet, but whose shadow he feels looming every time he catches her wetting her lips.

Some things just can't be split evenly.

"This is not the Green", she states, suddenly more confident but no less exhausted. "If you're going to hang around just because you need to, once we reach Mesos¹ you'd better be on your way."

Ezra doesn't interrupt her. A faded echo starts making its way into his ears. A former prospecting partner, many years ago. An easy job on a forgettable Fringe moon.

Gems don't have an expiration date. Deals do. Strike 'em if you need to, get rid of them as soon as you can. Unless you care to dig a quicker way to your grave.

He didn't pay attention to it, then. He'd thought it was just the empty rhetoric prospectors drop absentmindedly to fill the time between an unrewarding digging and the next. All the more so under the rickety advice of a couple too many.

His eyes still wide open, hands shaky, he merely reciprocated the awkward bottle lift of his partner, whom he didn't know more than the meanders of that quarry. A toast to a faceless future – a nothingness still more reassuring than what was all around and behind them. Not to the darkness of the cave, basically unbreakable if only for the red halo thrown by the twinkles of sharp, sinister Prystines². Not even to the two poor bastards that had set out with them, ending up skewered a few hundred paces behind – one by mistake, the other to return the favor of saving him from the clutches of a furious Aiu³.

Like an idiot.

Several contracts later preventing him from missing a beat in front of similar hiccups, the logic of that statement no longer sounds so absurd to Ezra. Luckily for him, Cee understood it long before him.

"I was just lookin' for the words to tell ya you'll be better off without me—"

Half a truth. Half a heartbeat. After all, she isn't the only one of them who knows how to sell it.

He leans his head back against the headboard, eyes half-closed, a sly grin baring a couple of his upper teeth. It would almost be intimidating, except that the glint hitting them doesn't quite match the dying one in his eyes.

"—But you beat me to it", he finishes, and he sounds like he's about to fall asleep.

He slowly turns his head away, looks through the porthole. His gaze clutches to the passing asteroids outside, distant nebulae spraying the sidereal black with hues of purple, blue, red— then green, again. A climbing plant squeezing him from the inside, discomfort starts creeping on him an inch of his body – what's left of it – at a time.

He doesn't want her to think he's angry at her, and it's the only concrete foothold emerging from the fluid, magmatic chaos in his mind.

How could he be, when she came back to get him?

She didn't have to.

She doesn't have to be here, either...

"I'm sorry", she suddenly blurts out.

He meets her eyes again, a mix of bewilderment and disapproval shading his own. He shakes his head.

"Don't."

"I just—". She starts fiddling with the extra fabric created by the folds of her sweatpants. Then she sighs deeply. "I have no idea what I'm gonna do now."

He snorts. "Not that it's s'pposed to make you feel any better, but... neither do I."

He doesn't have a hazy helmet choking the glimmer in his eyes, an air filter breaking some frequencies in his voice— maybe just those making him sound sincere, while saving those trapping him into the swamp of self-loathing.

He was nothing but honest when he told her the rules of the game on the Green. When he openly admitted he was a killer, and when he assured her he wouldn't trade her for the Sater's Aurelac. And she's always seemed to believe him, maybe for that kind of desperate inertia that washes over people when they need something to cling to. Whatever the case, Ezra can only hope she wants to believe him now. But she doesn't speak, and for a moment his fear of not saying enough overcomes that of crossing her boundaries.

"But w—", he immediately bites his tongue, "—you still have three cycles to figure things out. Someone up here will be able to help you. Even so, please know you'll always have my most sincere gratitude."

The effort of lining up all those words and so few pauses to catch his breath casts a thick fog over his ears. His eyes suddenly hurt again and he finds himself squinting.

What happens next, he just records it, hardly managing to follow each cause-effect relationship. A series of events softly raining on him without making a noise, while he can quite imagine them to be way more prolonged in time. Cee leaning towards the lighting panel on the wall, sliding her finger counterclockwise, and the white coating the walls turning less painfully bright; her getting up, walking away, dwelling just before the door. "I'll come to check on you tomorrow", she says, sniffling.

She tilts her head, holding his gaze in her watery one for an agonizingly slow while – Please, don't ask me why.

He blinks once – Of course.

Then, the automatic door is once again engulfed by the wall, closing behind her with a metallic rustle.

Tomorrow.

His heart is taken by a spiraling jolt that leaves an empty cave behind. When it falls back into place, Ezra finds something has tripped in there, shapeless and quivering like the nucleus of a newborn star.

Hope, terror and everything that lies in between. 

___________________

NOTES:

1) Mesos — Invented planet. Its only raison d'être is that "mésos" in Greek means "middle" and my intent was to frame this story in a moment of transition (after those of movies) for both Ezra and Cee. 2) Prystines — Invented kind of crystals. They're implied to be huge, red and very sharp, thus endangering the path through the cave. 3) Aiu — Invented predator, ideally a big feline.

A/N:

Yeah, uhm... at this point, if someone was ever to give me any kind of feedback, constructive criticism or random thought, I think I'd just melt into a puddle for the attention alone. And to all those who came all the way down here, your bravery shall not be forgotten. ♥️✨

In my defense, it's (almost) all P**** P*****'s fault & of his habit of taking orphans under his wing from one planet to another.

I know people in the fandom generally tend to make Ezra and Cee go along straight away after the movie, so this will be a slightly different take on things, I guess... But even if I don't know if I'll keep this series going atm (life & maturity exam suck), a final reconciliation is definitely on the way. ;)

Oh, and any beta reader that should feel like helping me out for when I'll have the next chapters ready is warmly welcomed! My DMs are always open and I swear I don't bite! :3

[etihw000]

You, Boun, Ninja and Taxi were my inspo for doing character designs, though I have to ask, what was the logic of the fashion you gave when interpreting the skins back at like 2013/2014? I could never figure out how to get that 2010s mcyt aesthetic of designs.

i’m gonna put this here for future reference: i do not want to answer asks that mention taxey. so if anyone else had sent in an ask involving her i probably deleted it and will continue to delete them, sorry.

but you tickled a bit of my rambling bones because i do like to talk, and she is part of what happened (i will hereby refer to her as T); so here we go.

i think you can separate my designs into two eras: before-T and after-T. before T came around, my designs interpreted the skins pretty literally. here’s bodil, here’s sky/ty/mitch/jerome, here’s bashur, and here’s jason.

my explanation on this: i was 13 and didn’t really like challenging myself. i’m pretty sure i took jason’s design from dopier, for example. so i took the easy way route out on a lot of things! 

but most notably, i didn’t want to draw complicated designs like sky’s. so the answer was very simple and clear: obviously, put it onto a sweater! i’m sure it was originally meant to be armor, but i didn’t want to draw armor. that’s too much thinking, too much highlighting, and i just wanted to pump out fanart for what i liked.

i didn’t like drawing checkerboards, so i switched them to lines.

i didn’t want to draw an anthro, so i just made it into a bear hat ala michael (i’m pretty sure this bear-type hat was more prominent in 2014, but it seems to have been simplified into just a hoodie with bear ears?).

i didn’t want to draw a humanoid watermelon nor did i even know where to begin with that, so i just drew bashur’s skin as a human and mirrored the design onto his hair and everything else was kept similarly.

it’s what happened with jason’s design - remember his astronaut-y outfit? yeah, i changed it to a hoodie shortly afterwards with an astronaut-y print. hated drawing that shit, challenging yourself is dead.

so in early 2014 (i came to the realization that i actually didn’t draw mcyt in 2013; i started drawing it in 2014), honestly just look at the skins you want to interpret and go with the simplest possible outcome. the end.

however, if you’re talking a bit later with the more unique designs - there was one notable thing that happened that caused it.

T.

see, i was a cranky little 14 year old child who got way too much attention. and with that attention came people copying my art - and one of them was T. 

i was highly uncomfortable at the time because, well, when you’re 14 you want to be unique as possible; you wanna stand out. and i was the only one who drew mcyt in this vaguely anime style way (because it wasn’t minecraft). and because we were all fucking weebs i assume people just started copying my art style wholesale.

see, people would mistake me for T. and vice-versa. i was extremely unhappy with this bullshit. “why are people mistaking me for this person,” i thought very unhappily to myself. and because i didn’t want to change my bloody art style, i decided designs were the way to go. so i went a bit crazy with it.

started out pretty simple. i cut ty’s shirt slightly differently (it still plagues his fanart to this day, i’m sorry ty). i gave bodil a beanie. everything was fine.

and then i still didn’t fucking want to draw checkerboards, so i just made a unique design for mitch. it followed with zek (the jacket on the right with the blue), who also had a checkerboard print. 

i did not want anyone replicating what i did, because it pissed me the fuck off something fierce. and i don’t know nor do i remember this clearly, but i’m pretty sure T started doing the same damn thing anyway. and i’m pretty sure it’s only T, because when I talked with swift and jasie they didn’t remember doing this shit. it was literally the two of us and whoever happened to be watching us do it.

it wasn’t meant to be easy to replicate. 

it was meant to be a bitch to replicate.

(i did it with rage too. the man didn’t even have a checkerboard skin. the long hair also plagues his fanart to this day, too. sorry rage.)

the other designs (ragegaming-era) were in 2015. and i was still the same angry 14-year old kid, especially since the T situation hadn’t gotten any better. we were still being mistaken for each other. people were genuinely confused about which of us were who and i don’t know how to explain to you how much anger was packed into my tiny 14 year old unsocialized body. 

i genuinely still don’t understand it now because our art styles were fundamentally different.

so i pitch you this question: what happens if simple skins meet this anger at being copied when even the simpler prints intended to be a bitch to replicate end up being mimicked, especially when the person you didn’t want copying you followed you into a wholeass new fandom? (we were more divided than now; TC and Crew were two completely different fandoms lol; we didn’t generally unite ourselves under ‘mcyt’)

you end up with other weird attempts. strangely asymmetrical cuts. even more complicated patterns. i apparently hid these but it was hell, i tell you. 

but i can assure you that the patterns on my designs were almost always symmetrical, albeit colored differently from the other side. the asymmetrical parts were different - a cut, a rolled up pant leg. something that you could do with a regular article of clothing. i know that in my circle there were some people that would have different length in shoes. i never did that. i would literally never write words on a shirt, too. i wasn’t one of those graphic tee people.

then i guess in late 2015 i got tired of it all and went back to the simple times of just not wanting to draw difficult designs before quitting altogether.

so you want to know what defined 2014 designs? 

it was a 14 year old’s absolute anger at being copied to fucking death and having to be mistaken for other people.

i hope this helped and i am now going to choose to forget that i ever decided to answer this ask. not because it was a bad ask, but because i don’t like thinking about T in particular. 

thank you for indulging my rambling bones. here’s a tl;dr for you:

Before-T designs (simpler)

the interpretations are literal.

if you can’t tell what’s going on, just make it a sweater and copy the patterns on the skin 1:1.

if there’s a different head (jason’s astronaut helmet, jerome’s bacca head) just make it a hood or a hat.

After-T designs (more difficult)

you still don’t wanna draw things out of your comfort zone, so stay out of the armor/anthro business.

give every design two layers - three at most. 

you love hoodies :)

if the skin is simple, use slightly different shades to add patterns (i believe he had a plain blue hoodie and plain black pants).

want to be even MORE unique than before? add something asymmetrical. remove a sleeve, roll up a pant leg, or something, but never shoes or gloves. they are sacred and you shouldn’t do that to them.

idk someone pointed out that i was apparently allergic to necks because i kept giving designs chokers or scarves or whatever. they’re usually solid in color

[hauntedorpheum]

Sam’s graphic shirts

ok first we have from the pilot:

school state shirt

seen in 1x01

This one says “school state” and i don’t know what’s on the center but we can assume is something related to stanford or college. I think is interesting considering that this is the first time we see sam 

Pop’s

seen in: 1x01, 1x03, (maybe)1x06, 1x09 and 1x12

for what i can make it says “Gil yer ass to Pop’s”, the word underneath i think it might be “lacing” but i’m not 100% sure, the word does have what it appears to be a dot of and i; another option is “lounge” but in that case i don’t know what happens to the i. Then it says “Home of the werld’s warmest beer”. 

Now there’s a point when you can see sam’s arm and it has a logo and a word and what this word implies is both horrifying and amazing. The word is “JNCO” and the logo that looks like a crown, and if you know what JNCO means then you know what that means

In case you need a better visual of the logo:

Moving on, to the red shirt with a running man

seen in: 1x03, 1x08, 1x12, 1x17, 2x05, 2x12, 3x04, 3x16

a white silhouette of a man running. Apparently this shirt was sold in auction to a fan. I’ll try to link later so you can see it in all its glory :)

The infamous purple dog shirt

seen in: 1x10, 1x11, 1x18, 2x13

A real life urban legend. Where did you come from? where did you go?

Now the palms white shirt

seen in 1x05, 1x12

not much on this one :(  I found some promo pics from bloody mary, where jared has a blue one and in others is white, so I actually not sure what color it is or if he is wearing the same shirt

Red shirt

seen in: 1x17, 1x19, 2x11

this one has, what it looks like, an illustration of an archer 

blue v neck

seen in: 2x03, 2x07, 2x11, 2x18, (maybe) 3x14

Sadly this is as close as we get to seeing this one :( 

we get a glimpse at stars and classic early 2000s graphics

weird seams thingy

seen in: 1x04, 1x08

I actually have no fucking clue what this is 

Bonus #1: sam as seen by dean in 2x20

It says ”s.f. calif. u.s.”  not much info on this one either :/

Some comments:

Now, in season 3 he still uses some of these, but for the most part this is when he starts using more plain tshirts, season 4 having zero graphic tees (while some of his plaid shirts from these seasons can still be seen in the last seasons) sam’s plaid is a whole other topic

I’m guessing this has something to do with the fact that this is more of a “college” look, and by season 3 and 4 is kinda obvious that sam is not going back to college.  Funnily enough, other characters (like bobby, ruby, and charlie) still wear graphic tees.

Could also be more of an aesthetic choice in general.

During these early seasons he uses more round necks, and by season 4 he starts using v necks. In 7x15, during a flashback that takes place druring s4, sam wears a white shirt with a round neck to make him look younger.

Dean (as far as i’m aware) never wears graphic tees, with the exception of “hell hazers” in 2x18, and some episodes from season 6, incluiding the opening montage of 6x01 when he is with ben, 6x02 and later in 6x14 after talking to Lisa. Then he wears some while working on the impala in 7x01 when they are not hunting.

note: some of these probably appear more times but I only wrote the ones when we can confirm that is the shirt; for example the white one could have been use more times but since we can’t see it, we don’t know if it could be the one with the palms or just another white shirt. That being said, I could have messed up at some point so let me know :)

[dc41896]

Hideaway

Hey guys!! So I randomly had a dream that included Ransom even though I haven’t seen the movie yet (I know I’m trying lol). Although my whole dream wasn’t about him, this imagine is based off of a small part and hopefully you guys like it! 😊💕

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Black Reader

Warnings: None

“ARE YOU MAD?! YOU THINK ITS OK TO STORAGE FOOD LIKE THIS?!!,” Gordon Ramsey yelled at yet another restaurant owner while going through their pantry.

Shaking your head, you laugh in disbelief as the kitchen staff begins the blame game pointing fingers at everyone else on why things aren’t correct. While sitting at home on a Friday night watching tv might not be ideal for everyone, you had been looking forward to it all week.

Although you loved your job of being a kindergarten teacher, and your students, you definitely needed some me time on the weekends. Thus why you were currently snuggled under your blanket in your pajama shorts and an old graphic tee with your favorite snacks beside you and loving every minute of it.

Just as a commercial comes on, a strong knock on your front door slightly startles you from the noise as well as the fact that you weren’t expecting anyone. Making your way to your front door, you look through the peephole to meet an unpleasant surprise.

Dressed up in black pants and dress shoes along with a white button down shirt stained with red wine, there stood your best friend since 3rd grade, Ransom Drysdale, looking rich and smug as always.

“Cupcake!,” he smiled with open arms.

You hated that nickname ever since he gave it to you in high school, and he knew that too which is why he kept using it. Long story short, never ask Ransom to pretend to be your boyfriend so a not so secret admirer can leave you alone.

“Hugh,” you smile back, arms crossed in front of you as he rolls his eyes. Just as you hated “cupcake” he hated his first name, Hugh, which was all the ammunition you needed to annoy him.

“What are you doing here and what happened to your shirt?”

“Well, lets just say Candice isn’t my biggest fan right now,” he explains, walking into your apartment and sitting on the arm of your couch.

“Ok so I’m guessing that’s where the wine stain came from, but that still doesn’t explain why you’re here when you have your own place you could be at right now.”

“Because she kicked me out of said place,” he sighs rubbing his temple. “We we’re having dinner and one thing led to another and she kicked me out, which is why I’m here.”

Knowing him for so long, you knew when Ransom wasn’t fully telling the truth. But in a situation like this, you thought it best to just leave it alone.

“Here give me your shirt,” you finally speak after a few moments of silence.

“Cupcake?!,” he gasps, hand on his chest and signature smirk across his face. “You know I always had my suspicions that you might have a thing for me.”

“Give me your shirt so I can wash it genius,” you retort holding your hand out. Laughing, he unbuttons his shirt before placing it in your hands.

“Let me get this started and I’ll bring you a new pair of clothes. Until then there’s food and drinks in the fridge, and don’t break anything,” you reply before disappearing to your laundry room.

He may not seem like it, but Ransom was grateful you were always there for him. Anytime he needed to get away from everything, or an irate girlfriend, he knew you’d welcome him in for as long as he needed. Well within reason that is.

That’s why Candice, or any of his exes for that matter, didn’t like you. No matter how many times you assured them that you and Ransom were just friends and you wouldn’t dare do anything to compromise their relationship, they still didn’t trust you. And in those times they found out he was hiding out at your place, it always made the situation worse resulting in a screaming match or a flat out break up.

Wrapped up in Gordon Ramsey gagging while trying entrees at a restaurant, a knock at the door makes him sigh at having to move from his spot on the couch.

“Oh hi I’m Bo, I live across the hall over there. Sorry for interrupting your evening I was just gonna give Y/N her mail, they accidentally put it in my box again.” About an inch taller than Ransom, a muscular man with short black hair and deep brown eyes stood in the doorway clearly just getting back from his workout from the clothes he was wearing and water bottle in hand.

“Thanks I’ll make sure she gets it,” he answers with a dry smile, taking the few envelopes from his other hand.

“So you must be her boyfriend,” Bo speaks up just as Ransom moves to close the door. Looking puzzled with one eyebrow raised, he crosses his arms in front of him to discretely show off his muscles and subtly say “yea, you’re not the only one who lifts.”

“Who wants to know?”

“Oh I don’t mean any disrespect, I just assumed since I’ve seen you around here a few times, plus I mean you did just open the door without a shirt,” he nervously laughs. “I mean if you guys are just friends though, I wouldn’t mind taking her out. Don’t tell her I said that though!”

“Hm, well good thing she already has a boyfriend then huh?,” Ransom smugly smiles before closing the door in Bo’s face.

“Who was at the door?,” you ask returning with a pair of sweats and shirt for him to wear.

“Just one of your comical neighbors giving you your mail, and are you hoarding my stuff now?”

“No, more like holding it in a lost and found since you keep leaving stuff over here!”

“Like you don’t like having little momentos of me here,” he smirks putting on his plain dark grey shirt. “Plus I know you wear my shirts sometimes.”

Scoffing, you laugh as you sit down on the couch to continue your “Kitchen Nightmares” marathon while he goes in your room to change his pants. In all honesty though, he was right about you wearing his shirts. So yea you sometimes wore them when you wanted to feel extra cozy, what girl doesn’t like oversized shirts?

And yea you might’ve also liked how they somehow still smelled like him, that didn’t mean anything!

Before he could sit down coming back from the bathroom, he looks down at his vibrating phone before sucking his teeth.

“Yes?,” he answers sounding exhausted and not in the mood to talk as he leans against the counter.

“Where are you?,” Candice asks. Shrill voice traveling all the way to where you were sat on the couch.

“Why does it matter, you kicked me out remember?”

“I know but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or want to make sure you’re ok.”

“Well don’t worry I’m fine.”

“Why are you talking so low? Wait are you at her place?!”

“Candice don’t-,”

“No Ransom Drysdale are you at Y/N’s apartment yes or no?!”

Hearing him get quiet, you slightly turn to see him look at you before looking down at the floor. “Yes”

“Why am I not surprised. You know what, since she’s the one you always want to run to, she can have you because I’m done! Hope you both have a nice life!”

And with that, her voice was gone and you could hear Ransom put his phone in his pocket as he sat beside you.

“I’m so sorry Ransom, I didn’t mean to cause anything-,”

“Don’t apologize. This happened because of something going on way before I came here tonight,” he interrupts looking straight ahead at the tv screen.

“But that’s the thing, I’m what’s been going on and it’s been that way for a while now,” you respond. “Look Ransom, maybe it’d be best that you not come over anymore or that we not even be friends.”

Muting the tv, he turns to look at you. The intensity from his blue eyes making you slightly nervous from never experiencing it before.

“Is that what you want?”

“I mean of course not, but your girlfriends-,”

“Let me worry about my at the time girlfriend, ok? But if you don’t want to be friends anymore, or want me over, then say the word and it’s done. So I ask you again, is that what you want?”

“....No it’s not.”

“Then it’s settled,” he responds turning the sound back on the tv. “So how are those germ infested piranhas of yours?”

“1. Don’t call them that and 2. They’re good,” you laugh taking a few sips of your juice. “You should come during story time one day and read to them!”

“I think I’d rather swim with actual piranhas,” he answers stealing a few of your chips.

———

Waking up with a stretch, you look at your phone to see that it’s 2 am and that both you and Ransom had fallen asleep on the couch.

“Ransom, wake up we fell asleep.” Lightly shaking his shoulder, his eyes flutter open as he yawns lifting his head.

“What time is it?”

“A little after 2 am. Since it’s so late you can crash here if you want.”

“Ok just hand me a pillow and I’ll sleep out here,” he sleepily answers, rubbing his eyes as he sits upright.

“You can sleep in the bed you know, it’s not like we haven’t shared before.”

“Trying to take advantage of me in my vulnerable state huh?,” he smirks removing part of the blanket from his lap.

“Whatever I was just offering because I know a certain spoiled brat is gonna complain about his back in the morning if he does sleep on the couch,” you counter with a smirk of your own.

Rolling his eyes, he helps you clean up before following you to your room and taking off his shirt and sweats before sliding into bed. Wrapping your hair up in your bonnet, you climb in your side of the bed, cutting off the light on your bedside table.

“Night cupcake,” Ransom smiles.

“Night Hugh,” you softly laugh, turning away from him towards the starlit sky outside your window.

Feeling the bed shift beside you from his movements, you start to turn your head to tell Ransom to calm down, but are cut off by his strong arm wrapping around your waist and gently bringing you towards his chest. With his breath lightly tickling the back of your neck, you weren’t sure if it was your heart racing or his from how close you were.

Again, you’d shared a bed plenty of times, but never gotten this close before so you were definitely caught off guard. However, you couldn’t lie that being there made you feel comfortable, secure, and more relaxed than you had been in a while.

“Um Ransom you awake still?,” you ask barely above a whisper.

“Hm,” he replies basically telling you that in the next few minutes, he’d be in a deep sleep.

“I doubt you’ll tell me, but what did you and Candice fight about over dinner?”

Only hearing his soft snores, you figure you’ll never know what happened, and took that as a sign that you probably shouldn’t, since he would just tell you not to worry about it if you asked him tomorrow. Before drifting off to sleep yourself though, you hear him mumble something you couldn’t quite understand.

“What did you say?”

“You,” he repeats burying his head into the back of your neck as your heart beats so loud, you doubt you’ll ever get back to sleep.

Again hope you guys like it and sorry if it’s super long or non-canon😬 (hopefully it’s canon though since I tried really hard to capture Ransom and his Ransomness lol)

Taglist: @nunubug99 @crushed-pink-petals @honeychicana @fumbling-fanfics @themyscxiras @lady-olive-oil @lovelymari4 @melinda-january @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @itshinothey @wildfirecracker @nina-sj

If you want to be tagged, have asked to be tagged and don’t see your name, or only want to be tagged for certain people I write for just let me know🤓!

[dontgotothenetherworld]

white elephant

ok so i know it’s pretty much canon that like all beetlejuice characters are canon (and i therefore apologize for my previous xmas fic) but i had this really cute idea, and it doesn’t have to be xmas in particular, it can be a general gift giving thing.

(you should google the rules if you really want to know how it’s played, bc i’m not very good at explaining it.)

1393 words

delia was the one who suggested the family do white elephant in the first place. she partly did it because with all the new people added to her family, she didn’t think she could find a meaningful gift for everyone. also, it’d be fun!

once delia explained the rules, an evil grin spread across beetlejuice’s face.

lydia quickly jumped in, “nothing gross, beej!”

the smile fell. “what do you mean by gross?” he asked slowly.

“if you can imagine those two,” she pointed at the maitlands, “being grossed out, it’s gross.”

“hey!” the maitlands, said, in unison, both equally offended.

“what? you’re the ones who are the most easily grossed out, so it’s a safe guideline to go by. i’m doing you a favor!”

the maitlands grumbled, but lydia was right.

“oo! and to make it more fun, we should guess who bought what!” charles suggested.

“that is a brilliant idea sweetie, but i don’t think lydia and beetlejuice can wrap presents, so it’d be kinda obvious.” delia replied.

“to be fair, i don’t know how to wrap presents either.” said charles.

“i think we should try it a normal way this year, and maybe next year we can try your idea.”

“fair enough.”

as soon as beetlejuice confirmed the conversation was over, he popped out of the house. honestly, who knows where he went. honestly, i’m picturing one of those montages from cartoons where the character goes across a bunch of contrasting landscapes.

lydia went straight to depths of amazon and etsy. she was looking for the weirdest thing the internet had to offer. ok maybe not the depths, she was kinda lazy, but it wasn’t the first page at least.

adam literally just googled ���gag gifts” and clicked on the first few links he found.

delia decided to, uh, diy a gift. she was planning on making a really shitty diy, and pretend that she was really proud of it. yes it was a bit emotionally manipulating, but it was the spirit of the game.

charles went to target. he thought his gift was hilarious, but i’m not sure if everyone else has his sense of humor.

barbara debated what she should do. should she make something? should she get like a silly board game or something? what was it that lydia liked...? memes! barbara was going to get a meme gift!

when the white elephant exchange finally arrived, everyone had their gift to present, and were excited to begin.

as delia passed around the hat with the numbers in it, lydia attempted to figure out which gift she wanted to open.

there were three really small gifts, including hers, and one huge, poorly wrapped one. what the hell had beetlejuice gotten?

“i got number one!” charles exclaimed when he opened his slip of paper. he grabbed lydia’s gift, which was put in a little green bag. 

“i see you didn’t try to wrap this.” everyone glanced at beetlejuice’s gift, including beetlejuice.

he threw the tissue paper onto the floor, and carefully lifted the item inside. it was a little crochet baby yoda. made even smaller in charles’ hands.

“i’m stealing that.” said barbara at the same time beetlejuice said, “give me the babey, charles.”

“what number do you have?” beetlejuice asked barbara.

“two.”

“ha! i have three!”

charles handed over the baby yoda to barbara and considered his options again. he picked up both adam and barbara’s and shook them lightly, trying to figure out which one he should pick.

“just pick one already!” lydia yelled impatiently.

“alright, alright.” he picked up adam’s gift. he took the little ribbon that was on the box, and placed it on delia’s forehead. it fell off immediately.

charles let out one of those dad chuckles when he saw what was inside. light saber chopsticks. “i might need to figure out how to use chopsticks now.”

“might.” said lydia, contemplatively.

charles hugged his chopsticks to his chest.

beetlejuice faced barbara and wordlessly held out his hand. she sighed and dropped the baby yoda into his open palm.

she picked up delia’s gift, “this should be a safe one to choose, right?”

“yup!” delia replied, a liar’s smile on her face.

barbara smiled and ripped the wrapping paper off. “omg! it’s a box!” she joked. cut to small laughs from adam, delia, and charles. she ripped the tape off, and lifted the gift out of the box. it was a shit delia had made, made of strips of other shirts. there were strips of graphic tees, sweaters, cheetah print, and neon. it was absolutely hideous, exactly as delia had planned.

“i hope you like it! i put a lot of time into making it!” delia tried her best not to laugh.

barbara’s smile faltered, “i love it!” she lied, not wanting to make delia feel bad.

everyone else looked awkwardly at each other, was this a joke...?

delia couldn’t help herself anymore, she burst out in laughter, “don’t worry honey, i meant for it to look bad.”

barbara let out a sigh of relief. “good, because this is horrible.”

“or high fashion.” beetlejuice commented. lydia nodded.

“okay, my turn!” delia jumped up and walked over to beetlejuice’s gift. she tried to pick it up to bring it back to where she was sitting, but it was far heavier than she was expecting. and far heavier than she could lift.

she glanced at beetlejuice with a concerned look on her face.

“go ahead, open it!” beeteljuice enthused.

she ripped the wrapping paper. “what the hell?” she gazed upon a window. a stained glass window, depicting a sunset, or sunrise, over a lake.

“beetlejuice... where did you get this?”

“nevermind that, do you like it?”

“uh... yes?” delia said.

“i love it!” screamed lydia. she looked at her number, “and i think i’m ‘bout to steal it!” she waddled over to the window.

“lydia, it’s my turn.” adam said.

lydia stopped for a second, as if she was loading. “oops. but if you steal this, i’m gonna steal it from you, so... choose wisely.” she waddled back to her seat.

“since it’s my turn,” he looked pointedly at lydia, “i would like that baby yoda, please.”

“adam, i mean this sincerely,” he handed adam the doll, “fuck you.”

adam blew him a kiss.

beetlejuice sighed and considered his remaining options. there was barbara’s gift, or charles’ gift. barbara’s was a really really tiny box, charles put his in a small bag.

“this better be good.” he picked up charles’ bag.

he greedily pulled the tissue paper out of the bag, and grabbed his gift. “socks?” beetlejuice asked, “plain white socks?”

charles began laughing a contagious laughter. although they weren’t quite sure why it was funny, everyone else began to laugh as well.

lydia finally stopped laughing first, and she stood up. “attention, everyone, it’s my turn. attention, it’s my turn.” she strode over to the stained glass window.

“you don’t want to open mine?” barbara attempted to guilt lydia into opening it.

it worked.

lydia sat, cross legged, in the middle of everyone as she ripped the wrapping paper off. and she ripped the wrapping paper off. and she ripped the wrapping paper off. and she ripped the wrapping paper off. “how small is this thing?” asked lydia as she took the fourth layer off. 

“small.” said barbara, helpfully.

lydia finally peeled off the fifth, and final layer to reveal a little box. she took the top of the box open to reveal a pepe pin.

“omg barbara, i love it.” she pinned the frog onto the collar of her all black outfit.

adam stood up, with his baby yoda clutched in his fist, “well i guess this game is over! it was loads of fun, i’ll see y’all later!” he began to walk off.

“hold on, there, adam. the first person gets to go again.” charles explained.

adam turned to find charles’ outstretched palm. “give me the child.” charles whispered.

“goddammit.” he dropped the doll. “wait, i can’t have my own gift.”

“fair enough, i guess you can steal from someone else.” said delia.

adam looked at all the gifts. he didn’t particularly want any of it.

“adam, i’m begging you, take these socks. i want the light sabers, please.” said beetlejuice.

“twist my arm.” adam said. he handed beetlejuice the chopsticks, and took the socks.

@meangirlsx @meangirlmurphy

this was so fun to write omfg i’m sorry if it’s hard to follow

[purplesurveys]

956

Be honest with yourself, are you proud of your actions? Yes. If there’s one good thing going for me it’s that I’m happy with the things I’ve done, overall. I regret few of my actions.

Have you ever had an operation? No, and the thought scares me to be honest. I get uncomfortable with the idea of being put under anaesthesia or being cut open D:

Favorite sit-down restaurant? Yabu, Frankie’s, or Mendokoro Ramenba. Missing all these places bigtime, too. I can’t wait to start getting my internship money, heh. Chicken wings will probably be one of the first things I’d buy.

What have you eaten today? I had sushi bake with nori sheets in the afternoon, during a lull at work.

Who has made you laugh the hardest in the last week? Rhett and Link, if people from YouTube count. But Angela made me laugh quite a bit today, if you’re looking for an irl person.

If you had to get a tattoo on your face to save your life, what would it be? But would I be down with the tattoo...? Probably should have been the first question you asked, haha.

What is something you find romantic? I like different ways of saying I love you without having to say those words. Like, “I thought of you when I saw this,” or “Should I drive to you?” or “Did you get home safe?” Those are my favorite things to hear when in a relationship; it makes me feel I’m looked out for, which I appreciate.

What is your style? Sometimes I like going the 90s route with graphic tees and high-waist denim jeans, but other days I like to look more modern or chic.

If you could be doing anything you like right now, what would it be? Not that I enjoy doing it, but I’d love to visit Nacho���s resting place right now. I’m just not sure if I’m allowed to go out at this time. I’m certainly hoping he wasn’t alone today and that he got a lot of love.

What is the best movie you have ever seen? Good Will Hunting.

What makes you attracted to the person you like right now? Intelligence.

What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about? I don’t appreciate jokes on miscarriages and rape, and those that poke fun at transphobia. Jokes on suicide and mental health issues can sometimes be offensive, but it depends on the context.

How long was your longest relationship? 4 years.

Would you rather live in a castle or a spaceship? I’d take the castle. I personally prefer the spaceship a lot more, but I feel like I’d be barfing in there a lot lmao. Also, the amount of controls and buttons that I’ll have to move around will probably overwhelm me.

Have you ever felt unimportant in someone’s life? Unfortunately, yes.

Has someone ever made you a Build-A-Bear? No. Not my gift of choice either, so I’d say it’s a good thing that no one has made one for me.

Did you have any unread texts this morning? I don’t think so, no.

What are your initials? RIAC.

What is your definition of “having sex”? I don’t feel like describing it in detail lol, just look it up.

Who was the last person you were “in a relationship with” on Facebook (including anyone you may have put “in a relationship with” for a joke)? I never used that feature on Facebook. I don’t like sharing too much personal info on there, because Filipino relatives tend to be nosy and gossip around lol. All they need to see are the memes I share and my political stances.

Do you think a relationship with a 16-year-old girl and a 35-year-old man would work out? Do you think age differences like that (when they’re under 18) should be legal? 16 years old...say that again, but slowly. That’s pretty disgusting.

Were you ever “the other man/woman”? How did it turn out? How do you feel about it today? No. I’d never want to be; I wouldn’t know how to deal with it if I ever found out I was one.

What do you think of open relationships? If your partner suggested it, what would you say? i dont care what other people do, but that is not for me.  < Sums it up well.

Would you ever date out of your race? I’m open to it. I don’t see why I shouldn’t be.

Who were you with yesterday? Just family, but I was mostly by myself.

Have you ever had a reptile for a pet? Nope.

What time do you have to get up tomorrow? My work starts at 9 AM so I always have to be up by then, but because I like taking a shower and polishing the work I did the day before, I personally like to be ready anywhere between 8–8:30 AM.

Have you ever kissed anyone with a tattoo? I never have.

What kinds of alcohol do you like? I like cocktails; I like having a good, chill time with friends and I’m usually not in a hurry to get drunk, so cocktails are the perfect drinks for me for most situations. As for hard drinks, I usually go for tequila shots and whatever Bacardi is.

Did you have a swing set when you were a kid? We didn’t, but as a kid I regularly came over to my cousins’ place who did have a playground and they had a variety of swings that I loved riding.

Can you do the alphabet in sign language? Incompletely.

Have you ever been so hurt that you wanted to stop feeling completely? Of course.

State you most want to visit? Illinois, but only for Chicago.

What is a book that you really want to read? I’m not really eyeing any at the moment, but I’m currently reading Midnight Sun. Except by ‘currently’ I really mean reading a few pages or so once a week lol. I’ve always been terrible at reading books as a teenager/adult.

What brand was the last lotion that you used? I don’t remember anymore. I don’t use lotion often.

What color is your underwear? Green.

What was the last type of cookie that you ate? Sandwich cookies. They were Oreos.

If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be? In a happier place, mentally. I’d give an arm and a leg to be there rn.

What genre was the last song you listened to? R&B I think.

What sort of surveys catch your interest and which ones bore you? I like ones with random questions or those with themes that I can relate to, like college or film surveys. I can’t say I enjoy surveys that ask what kind of X you are and then just lists down traits that you’re asked to bold or not. Bolding surveys can also be kinda bleh, but I like putting my own twist on them and elaborating on each entry so that I don’t finish them too quickly.

What books do you usually enjoy reading and which do you not enjoy? I enjoy autobiographies. I don’t like the fantasy and epic genres, or anything that has too many fictional or supernatural elements.

What is something that you really want to try, whether it’s a hobby, food, etc.? Baking! I feel like it would be therapeutic for me, so it’s something I want to get into. It’d be awesome to master chocolate chip cookies.

What websites do you frequent most often? YouTube these days, for sure. I also use a lot of Google Suite for work.

The last person you found attractive — what did they look like? Big eyes, medium-length hair, bright smile.

If you could go back in time, would you prefer to go forward or backward? this question is so jacked LOL. "if you could go back, would you go foward?" go away. < Hahahaha true, but I’d go forward in time. I want to fast forward to feeling happy again, if that will even be the correct guess.

Post a link to the last video you watched online. Aw man, your timing made me a little sad. I’m currently watching the GMM episode that featured Kobe Bryant a few years ago.

Is there anything bothering you at the moment? You bet there is.

What color was the last shirt you wore? I’m wearing a black and white striped shirt right now, but the one I wore before this had a leopard print.

What sort of things do you like to post or look at on Tumblr? I just do surveys full-time now, man. I hopped off the fandom side of Tumblr 6-7 years ago and this has been my ~main blog since, if I had to call it anything.

What scent was the last candle you burned? It was just a plain candle that we had to light up because we had a blackout. I don’t really get my own candles to relax or whatever.

What type of people are you usually attracted to? I’m demi, so it will always differ. I don’t have a ‘type’ of person.

Do you collect anything? If so, what? Can’t say I do.

When you look to your left, what is the first thing you see? What about the right? I see my bed on the left, and the wall and the glare from my phone on the right.

What room are you currently in? What color are the walls/floor? I’m in my bedroom. Walls are white, floor is brown.

What color is the last blanket you used? Pink but it has polka dots of various colors. My light is currently turned off and it’s dark, though, so I don’t feel like reaching for my blanket just to list down its other colors.

What do you smell like right now? I think I just smell like person...I wasn’t around strong scents today.

If it was possible to celebrate a holiday everyday, which would you choose? That would get boring really fast, but idk...Christmas, I guess? It’d be nice to have big grand dinners everyday and to see regularly relatives I only see 1-2 times a year.

If you could compare yourself to a celebrity or character, who would it be? Mr. Peanutbutter from BoJack Horseman. Loyal, wacky, covers everything up with humor, very expressive when it comes to love.

Which male celebrities do you find attractive? Timothée Chalamet, Troye Sivan, Mark Ruffalo.

Which female celebrities do you find attractive? Kristen Stewart, Kate Winslet, Rosamund Pike, Claire Foy, Courteney Cox, Mila Kunis, Emma Stone.

If you could marry one of your favorite celebrities and have a happy relationship until the end of your days, who would it be? I’d go with Mark Ruffalo, heh

What song are you listening to at the moment? I have Good Mythical Morning on, not music.

What is currently on your desk? Just my headphones at the moment. I usually use my laptop on the desk too, but right now I prefer to be on the floor just because.

What brand is your computer? Apple.

What are the last things you ate and drank? For eat, I had sushi bake with nori sheets. For drink, I had water.

How often do you take naps and how long do they usually last? I take naps in the afternoon but only on weekends now, because work. How long they last always varies, depending on how hot it is in my room. Higher temperature = quicker, less satisfying naps.

Which season do you wish lasted all year? I definitely wish we got rain all year.

What is the last part of your body that itched? My back.

Is there anything that you should be doing right now? Nope. My day is over and I’m happy to take a survey or two tonight.

Is there anything you’re craving right now? Pad thai. I did ask my dad to make it again, so I should expect it any day soon.

How do you take your tea? I don’t drink tea.