#if anyone else is curious you can check my pinned post

[wish-i-had-robin-wings]

Hiya, @maxi-pants! Sorry tumblr just ate your ask response, I promise I said something clever.

Anyways! Here's your blog team, based on your chill/cool guy vibes!

I hope you like it! 💙✨💕✨💙

[cerberus-new-owner]

anyone else see headcannons for the om! characters and think of their own for a completely different topic like seriously i was reading headcannons about how the brothers would react to MLP (by @byte-your-tongue for those curious i would recomend looking at the post it made me laugh) and i started thinking up headcannons on how they would sleep like what??

Anywayssss here some headcannons about how i think the characters would sleep (with and without mc cause i feel like some of the would change how they sleep with someone next to them)

Part 1 - The Brothers Part 2 - The Angels + Solomon Part 3 - Diavolo + Barbatos

content thingy btw: the brothers are kind of implied to be dating mc but it can really be taken how you wish, also gn!mc, ooooo ooo oooo and a few pet names (dove, treasure, player 2, love) and a bit of fluff to

Lucifer

w/out mc- on back stiff as a board, mans becomes a plank of wood dare i say even a brick unmoving and silent no snores no sleep talk and somehow takes up his entire bed (he's probably in his demon form) also a very light sleeper he's gotta be ready for anything and everything disaterous that could happen in the middle of the night

w/ mc- buuuuuuut when mc shows up and starts sharing his bed he starts to sleep talk like when mc first showed up in the devildom he started doing it every now and then cause of stress (i sleep talk when stressed lol) but when they started sharing a bed he started sleep talking alot more the stress probably coming from him not wanting one of his brothers (mammon, levi, asmo) to A to walk into his room and fall asleep ontop of him and mc cause they want mc cuddles to or B straight up steal mc from his grasp (he protec) oooooor lucky number C take photos of the two and use them as blackmail (mams, satan and belphie), still no snoring, 20% chance he's in his demon form especially if its winter (wings can be blanket), i also think he may switch from a brick to side sleeper everynow and then for cuddles (touch starvedddddddddd), light sleeper still but like way worse now, will wake up at the sound of a pin drop (force him to wear noise cancelling headphones everynow and then so he gets sleep 'do i have to wear these silly things dove, i'd preffer to keep you safe and the house of lamantation standing than sleep')

Mammon

w/out mc- hes sprawled out (starfish), loud snoring (can be heard across the house), also loud sleep talking (he will get flustered in his sleep and talk for everyone example 'mammon that was such a dumb idea' 'no it aint it was a genius idea' 'mammooooooon, wheres my record') sleeps with his glasses on, also kicks like alot, very deep sleeper would've slept through one of beels late night rampages when the fridge was empty many times

w/ mc- still starfish no room for mc, snoring is still loud (hope mc's got ear buds or smth) sleep talks but now flirts with himself too 'oh mammon did it hurt when you fell' 'of course it did i fell for you after all', has gotten into a better habit of taking his glasses off before sleep (feel like mc got up him for wearing them to sleep) no kicking anymore or atleast not as much mc has gotten kicked off multiple times, still a very deep sleeper but he'll somewhat wake up if mc moves to check on them (its probably just tred mumbles of something like 'ya okay treasure?' or 'you're not going anywhere treasure')

Levi

w/out mc- idk what to put here like he obviously takes up like the entirety of the bathtub he sleeps in, he probably talks to ruri-chan or his online friends in his sleep and does the poses and stuff ruri-chan does also body pillows no blankets just body pillows/hj he's a pretty normal sleeper (when he does sleep) only really waking up to any loud noises

w/ mc- still dunno but he probably wraps his tail around mc when sleeping (once again he protec) probably like the exact same as w/ out mc but without the poses, still a pretty average sleeper and still talks in his sleep ('nonononononono player two you take on the minions and i'll take on super elite demon dragon fish boss')

Satan

w/out mc- lets be real when hes does sleep its either almost exactly like lucifer (when he goes to sleep willingly) or he's sprawled out with a book on his face, snores but not as loudly as mammon or beel, probably kicks if he falls asleep angry at someone (most likely lucifer) sleeps pretty deeply normally but when pissed off he's a light sleeper almost like he's preparing to explode at the slightest sound, also if he's snuck a cat into his room he's cuddling with the cat

w/ mc- cuddles in the middle of reading a book, mc was sitting in his lap and he was reading to them when they fell asleep and a few hours later still reading the book out loud for the sleeping mc he falls asleep himself, doesn't go to sleep angry as often as before but his sleeping does lighten a little to make sure unwelcome intruders dont enter his space whilst he's with mc, will not move if he's cuddling mc (if he does move and wake them up he's apologising tellng them to go back to sleep ' 'm sorry love go back to sleep')

Asmodeus

w/out mc- kitten snores tiny little baby snores, doesn't kick unles he's having a nightmare, has a night time face mask on deep sleeper and sleeps on his back just not as stiffly as luci and satan, sleep talks on occasion but its usually just him complementing himself 'oh asmodeus you look extra fabulous today' stuff like that

w/ mc- pretty much the exact same mans wants his beauty sleep

Beelzebub

w/out mc - snores louder than mams, sleeps like a brick, human heater, midnight snacks, deeeeeeeep sleeper like an a new level not as bad as belphie but still he won't wake up unless its one of his alarms or he's hungry, if he were to sleep talk it'd probably be the recipe to his faverite food 'beat two eggs, mix the eggs in with the rest of the batter bake for 15 minutes'

w/ mc- me personally i would get him a sleep apnea machine (stops the loud snores) and install several fans for summer months, he would be very clingy too, perfect for winter not so much for summer

Belphegor

w/out mc- dead he might aswell be dead does not move or make a sound pretty boring overall and cold, no sleep talking like i said he might as well be dead

w/ mc- snuggles snuggles snuggles only time he will move is to get closer to mc for snuggles still pertty cold though like if he wakes up before mc, mc better be prepared to be woken up by a pair of cold hands / feet on their back and a very bratty smile to accompany their awakening

i feel like its way to obvious who my favorite brothers are looking at this and which brothers i struggled with lol but oh well....

i may do the dateables next, i also may expand on a few of these (the ones i didn't struggle hardcore with lol)

have a good day, night, evening, breakfast, lunch, morning

having too muvh fun with the masterlist things lol

[signedeclipse]

Hi! I saw your post about neck kisses/hickey’s with Douma and I was curious how Enmu would do them with his s/o (human preferably) I think he’d be really into them!

Enmu [X Reader]

In which Enmu just can't stop himself from marking you up.

The worst or best part about this demon is that he has more than one mouth

On his hand? He has a crazy amount of reach, and you've learnt to be cautious when that hand is anywhere near you

It will bite, nibble, lick, kiss, and it always scares the hell out of you

You can predict it now, usually when he's string absentmindedly at you with a blush creeping up on his face, once you see that you have a fraction of a second to locate that arm and pin it down

Doesn't do you any good, if he wanted to he could easily throw you off

Enmu doesn't mind giving you hickeys along your more visible places, but he has a preferences for places no one else got to go

Its his way of telling himself that you're all his and no one else will ever get to leave kisses on the inner parts of your thighs, your hips, your chest, they're all his

Oh, you're sensitive there? That's such a shame, I guess you'll just have to get through it, princess!

From how often he does it he knows exactly which spots will make your thighs clench or hitch your breath in that way where you squeak, one of his favourite noises

So sweet about it in a condescending way, and usually dirty talks about how you are hopeless under his control

Probably marked his name into you, which took about an hour and bruised his name into your thigh for about a month

Oh yeah it also left you a squirming mess for the rest of the evening but that's what he expects of his lovely s/o 

Showy clothes or not, anything loose that can be pushed up will

He doesn't mind that anyone could walk in, even in a currently empty train cart he'll get on his knees in front of your seat and push his head under your skirt

Better keep quiet so no one come sin to check out what's happening, better look normal so the people outside the window can't see what a slut you are just from him nibbling your skin

Authors Note - Hiiiiiiiiii Ink thank you for requesting 😳 I was going to say the request surprised me but you and Enmu go hand in hand /lh

Please enjoy, and thank you for requesting! Enmu was my first demon slayer crush and the entire reason I watched the show (saw a youtube video w him to the song lovegame) and I miss writing him </3

[educating-bimbos]

The Pinned Post 2

new pinned post because tumblr hid my old one from my view so I can't see, edit it, or reblog it to add an addendum. I only have a few things to add, so I am just going to copy and paste it.

Who is Educating Bimbos?

My name is Nicolette. I am a technical artist, musician, and an outdoorsy type of gal. I enjoy the finer things in life, and I fancy myself a traditional woman and a bimbo. I don't really enjoy mindlessly obsessing over labels, but if it helps people gauge where my brain is at, I am pro-patriarchy, in favor of traditional gender roles and dynamics, an ex-feminist, and before all else a believer in one's ability to exercise personal freedoms. My beliefs, mannerisms, and presentation attract the ire of feminists, born-again-religious types, and any number of anti-fun douchebags. At the end of the day, just remember that behind this silly blog is a silly person.

What is Educating Bimbos?

It is a blog and small community of bimbos looking to learn more about and express a traditional lifestyle. It is also about people who may not be familiar with or comfortable around things like BDSM get a nice and soft introduction to it without being exposed immediately to the idea of how people can enjoy things in a pseudo-sexual context. At the end of the day, it is a blog and community where I and other like-minded people can express silly ideas without the fear of being lambasted by people seeking to harm others.

Where is Educating Bimbos?

Educating Bimbos can be found in one of these two places.

Why is Educating Bimbos?

Well for a while I was annoyed by the lack of communities that focused on a kind of "hyper-feminine" aesthetic while also promoting more traditional ideas. There was also the issue of communities that have tried this before of devolving into bigoted and abusive communities that would do everything under the sun to create an insular and ToS breaking community. I spoke with a friend of mine who runs a similar community a while ago and she inspired me to give this a shot. Now - close to 3 years later - I have a steadily growing community that pulls from all corners of ideology, cultural, ethnic, and interest level and the discord has been almost completely drama-free in its whole existence.

When is Educating Bimbos?

I am alive and doing silly stuff all day, every day. Except when it is nap time in which case I will be in the realm of dreams.

What's an ex-lesbian and why do you call yourself that?

For a number of very personal reasons, I have decided to call myself an ex-lesbian. I did this of my own volition, and I was not pressured into doing so. For a long time, I had thought of myself as a lesbian, mostly because of socialization and how all the girls around me were so might as well follow suit. I experienced a number of harmful and traumatic events when I considered myself a lesbian and it effected how I view myself. After a while and talking to some friends who I trust dearly, I came to the realization that I am not a lesbian and that it really isn't a thing I identify with the same way others do. I am still trying to come to grips with that given I only relatively recently had that realization. I also feel that people use that term in bad faith to harm people and to push bad narratives and ideas so I thought "hey might as well try and take back what should be an innocuous phrase."

In short, I think an ex-lesbian is just a way of identifying one's sexuality similar to asexuality or demisexuality. It is not that I am one sexuality or another, it's that my sexuality is defined by my experience and coming of age.

I have had a number of people confront me about this, talk to me about it in sincere curiosity, and even attack me. I welcome anyone who is curious or has a genuine contention to come to me in DMs, I am not a mean person, and I will love to talk honestly and respectfully. I find that disagreement is not grounds to discredit or avoid befriending people, I hope you can do the same.

Further questions for Educating Bimbos?

If you find that these questions are unsatisfactory in any regard, or you wish to try your hand at doing what I do, follow these two links!

Ask me anything!

Ask me anything you want! I have some personal rules with regards to what I can and cannot upload, but this is generally the best way for me to answer any question you may have. I also have anonymous asks enabled just in case you are shy.

Submit a post!

If you think I should be made aware of something, post something, or if you just want to signal boost something try this. So far, I have no real rules or expectations so do whatever you want with this button.

[momojedi]

— THE HUNTER topic. original characters

**

type. one shot? drabble? idk note. just my oc stuff ... this is set in an au where death watch is far stricter with the religious views and uses the same rules as the children of the watch. Mi’dek and Nike are actually two characters a friend of mine made up when we were talking about the Mandalorian. warnings. none word count.

translations. gedet'ye - please; gev - stop it; k’oyacyi - hang in there

star wars masterlist || pinned post

"Stop!"

A beat. Suddenly, the world goes silent. The mandalorian bounty hunter is pinned down, barely fighting back after the dull hit his head had taken when Wrecker had roughly forced him to the ground. The Batch stills. Then, all eyes drift to her.

Omega's hands are in the air, her bow discarded somewhere on the ground next to her as she desperately stares at her brothers with widened eyes. "That's enough!" Hunter barely catches a glimpse of her before he understands. Then, he throws a quick signal to the others who swiftly holster their blasters, too.

The injured girl next to Omega lets out a relieved sigh that is quickly interrupted by a pained groan. "Gedet'ye..." Omega jumps to her side, supporting her weight as the girl slumps against her. "We need to help her!" "Get her to the ship," Hunter orders before turning to Wrecker under whom the Mandalorian is still caged, "Him too. If he steps out of line, you know what to do." "Sure thing!" The Mandalorian grunts dizzily as the huge man hoists him over his shoulder, still not fully conscious.

"What's your name?" The girl hisses as she feels the sharp prick of a bacta shot in her arm, barely registering Omega's curious questions. Then, she opens her eyes again. "Nike," she rasps, her voice almost a whisper. She looks fragile, with her meek figure and her greasy long hair. The low bags under her blue eyes and the hollow cheeks tell a story of month-long torment, torment the Empire probably had played a role in. This poor girl must’ve been to hell and back. How could Omega not have acted? "I'm Omega." Then, the young clone points at the other men roaming the former military shuttle. "And those are my brothers. They're very nice once you get past their, er," Omega grimaces, "rougher exterior?"

Nike listens to her wordlessly while observing Tech with a piercing glare, watching his every move as he stands beside the Mandalorian whom they’d previously cuffed and shackled to the ship’s G.N.K. droid. He’s still not moving, limply lying on the floor, the only proof of him being alive coming from the subtle heaving of his armoured chest.

Omega follows her stare. When she understands, her heart cracks at the longing expression on the girl’s face. “He’ll be fine,” Omega softly says as she carefully grabs Nike’s hand. But Nike remains worried. With a determined expression, Omega turns to look at her brother.

“Echo, could you take a look at him, too? He’s been out for some time now…” She pleads, pointing at their prisoner. “Just to make sure?” Echo hesitates, searching for any sign of displeasure in Hunter’s face but the sergeant just nods. With a sigh, Echo stands up and kneels down next to the unconscious man.

As if a switch had been flipped inside of her, Nike jumps up the moment the clone reaches for the helmet. “Gev!” The clones freeze, all heads turning to look at her. Nike rubs her temples, eyes scrunched shut as if she was searching her mind for her words. “Wait,” she then croaks, a subtle accent in her words, “You can’t take off his helmet.”

“What?” Echo raises a brow, “How else am I supposed to check on him?”

“It’s against his beliefs. No sentient being is to see his face.” Nike kneads at her hands, scanning the room for a way to persuade them not to act any further. “Isn’t there any other way?” Before anyone can bring up another argument, Tech pipes up from behind his datapad.

“I may be able to run a scan on him, though I’m unsure how effective that will be considering his beskar armour … either way, I am willing to give it a try.”

“Yes, yes, that will do,” Nike gratefully replies, quickly nodding. With that, she joins him by crawling over to the prisoner, kneeling next to Echo on the ground who curiously watches her as she cradles the Mandalorian’s helmeted head and carefully settles it in her lap. “K’oyacyi.”

Wrecker's low snores erupt through the Marauder's stomach few hours later, accompanied by the distant hum of the shuttle's machinery as it flies through the blue swirls of hyperspace. Omega hums silently as she sits next to Nike, focused on the set of cards on in her hands. When she finally draws another one, her eyes drift to the other girl, whose gaze had once again drifted to the still unconscious man. "What's his name?" Nike's head snaps back to Omega. "What?" "His name. You haven't mentioned it so far."

Hesitantly, the redhead lowers her own set of cards. "Mi'dek," she rasps, fiddling with the sleeves of her jacket, "my family hired him to find and bring me back to them when the Empire rose to power. After he’d found me, his shuttle crashed and we were stuck. That is, until you showed up."

“He did try to attack us,” Echo barks from his seat with a strict expression. Nike frowns. “He was protecting me!” At that, Omega raises a brow but before she can inquire any further, a stir from beside them catches their attention.

Mi’dek groans, his voice filtered through his helmet as he shuffles against the G.N.K. droid. The clanging of the binders quickly wakes him when he pulls at his shackled hand, once, twice, but to no avail. Then, a rougher pull. Immediately, he sits up, scanning his hand before snapping his head around. “Mi’dek! It’s okay,” Nike crawls to him, grabbing his free hand, “We’ll be fine.” At the sound of her voice and the sight of her freckled face, the Mandalorian visibly relaxes, though not before giving his surroundings another quick glance. Then, he nods at Echo. “Who are you people? What do you want from us?” he drawls lowly, “if you’re planning on handing her over, you’re going to have to get past me.”

Hunter’s deep chuckle catches him off-guard as he raises his head to look over at him. “I doubt you’re in much of a position for that.” Then, as if time suddenly slowed, the sergeant wordlessly paced over to him and finally, knelt down next to him. “Now, you’re going to explain to us what this is all about.”

The air grows tense when the worn hilt of the lightsaber hits the floor, a metallic clang breaking the silence.

“Who are you?”

[chocodaffodil]

Art requests!

Edit: As of now, art requests are closed.

Send requests through my asks

I don't mind DMs tho (if you want to send multiple images for references or for other reasons)

Anyone is free to make a request, not just mutuals :D

And just a heads up that I have college and a big art project to do, so please be patient with me! I will ever so slowly and steadily work on any requests I get o7

Also you can let me know if you'd prefer for the drawing to be a public post or private message :]

Oh, and I prefer to work with references! So if say, you had an OC, I'd prefer to have images to reference rather than descriptions.

What I'll draw:

Pairings and Self-ships

Human/humanoid Characters

OCs and Self-inserts

Fandoms (even ones I am not familiar with)

My interests (enstars, twst, and whatever else I have listed in my pinned post... I will be very excited to draw those wahaha)

What I'll consider drawing (willing to practice):

A little blood (it honestly depends... and if I do draw blood, it will prob not be very detailed. Feel free to check with me^^)

Animalistic Characters and Furries (I will try my best...)

What I won't do:

Gore

Mecha/Robots (me thinks I will perish since they seem complicated to draw...)

Proships

LGBTphobia

NFSW (To clarify, although one of my interests in particular is R 18+, I'd rather not draw anything explicit^^)

I'll add more to the lists if I need to!

If you are curious about examples of my art, I have them under the hashtag #chocodaffodil art along with a side account with just my art @chocodaffodil-art :D

It'll depend on my mood but for art requests, I think I'll try to at least make it neat line art + flat color

[iviarellereads]

All Systems Red, Chapter 2

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Murderbot Diaries, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

In which the humans, in true human fashion, want to packbond.

When MB wakes up, it's up to 80% efficiency, and Mensah has extended the security lockdown an additional four hours, but left a message asking MB to report to her. MB has never been asked to do this by any client, it seems, but thinks maybe she wants to go over the planetary hazard info packet and why it didn't mention the giant predatory worms.

MB takes a moment to say it really doesn't care about its clients or what their goals are.(1) It knows that these clients are from a freehold (not associated with a major corporate confederation) called PreservationAux, and the survey is to see if this planet is worth buying a share in the planet's resource extraction potential. It wasn't expecting much from them, but they've been surprisingly easy to work with.(2)

MB cleans itself off, and puts its armour in its repair slots. It doesn't want to dig out the spare armour set, so it puts on the uniform provided for it instead, something like exercise clothes.

When MB goes out into the main hub, everyone is talking and Mensah is busy, so it waits silently. Ratthi is the first to notice it, with a comedic double take. MB comments that's why it prefers wearing armour as much as possible: the humans like to pretend it's a mindless robot, and that's easier when they don't see a human body shape.

Ratthi asks who this is, with the security lockdown preventing anyone coming in or out. Mensah is busy on an interface, so MB has to say it's their SecUnit. They all look almost as uncomfortable as MB feels, and it wishes it had taken the time to get the spare armour.

Part of it is, they didn’t want me here. Not here in their hub, but here on the planet. One of the reasons the bond company requires it, besides slapping more expensive markups on their clients, is that I was recording all their conversations all the time, though I wasn’t monitoring anything I didn’t need to do a half-assed version of my job. But the company would access all those recordings and data mine them for anything they could sell.(3) No, they don’t tell people that. Yes, everyone does know it. No, there’s nothing you can do about it.

Shortly (subjective: half hour, objective: 3.4 seconds) Mensah turns and sees MB, and asks it to review the hazard report, just as it expected. It does so, and can feel Dr. Gurathin, an augmented human with his own interface, poking at the data while the others, on touch interfaces, are more distant.

At first, MB thinks they're being paranoid, but it finds discrepancies in phrasing, indicating deletions in the warnings and the section on fauna. Everyone's pretty pissed off about it, and MB likes their openness with each other. It outlines their interpersonal relationships, and says they're very low-stress and restful to be around… just as long as they don't try to interact with it.

The team speculates on what biological niche the hostiles fill, but Pin-Lee brings them back to the important bit: who removed the subreport? She asks MB directly, can HubSystem be hacked? MB thinks how it hacked it easily from inside, to hide its hacked governor module, but from outside… it says it's possible, but more likely they were sent an incomplete report. Mensah assigns Pin-Lee and Gurathin to tracking that problem down, and asks if the other group on the planet, DeltFall, were given the same damaged report. MB checks with HubSystem, which says it's likely, but MB is skeptical of HubSystem's reliability. Aloud, it only says, "Probably".

Mensah gives instructions for the team, and MB asks if she needs it for anything else. Mensah says no, she'll call if they do, but… it could stay in the crew area if it wants.(4)

They all looked at me, most of them smiling. One disadvantage in wearing the armor is that I get used to opaquing the faceplate. I’m out of practice at controlling my expression. Right now I’m pretty sure it was somewhere in the region of stunned horror, or maybe appalled horror.(5) Mensah sat up, startled. She said hurriedly, “Or not, you know, whatever you like.” I said, “I need to check the perimeter,” and managed to turn and leave the crew area in a totally normal way and not like I was fleeing from a bunch of giant hostiles

Back in the ready room, MB is upset that it gave away that it doesn't want to be around them. It worries, because it has too much to hide to make mistakes like that. A slip leaves the rest of its secrets less protected.

It decides to do some work instead of moping, and gets its spare armour to do the perimeter walk, check on the hoppers, double check the emergency supplies, everything it can think to do for its job parameters. Then, it goes into standby with some more Sanctuary Moon.

It's just fast-forwarding through a sex scene(6) when Mensah sends it some images. It's interested enough to pause and save its place. It hasn't really looked at the satellite maps, because it hasn't needed to, but now that Mensah's pointed it out, there are six huge swaths of the planet missing from their documentation.

MB is so grateful that Mensah did it all over the feed instead of insisting on in-person, it gives her its honest opinion: the package was cheap, and it's likely the pieces are missing for that reason, but the only way to know is go out for yourself and see if there's something worth seeing in the missing regions.

MB feels Mensah's attention pull back from the feed, so it tunes into the hub cameras to listen to the humans' discussion. They're all in favour of going to check it out. They've already had a conversation with DeltFall, who agreed to send the missing files, but MB knows how this is going to go, and that they don't know security like it does. It wants to go alone, but if its governor module were working, the failsafes would fry it if it went further than 100 meters away from all the clients, so it can't volunteer.

So when Mensah opened the feed again to tell me they were going, I told her security protocols suggested that I should go, too.(7)

=====

(1) I think this is a little too much protest, if you feel me. MB may not be the most reliable narrator of its relationships. It could have followed protocol and left Volescu in the crater in chapter 1, but it didn't. It could have been aggressive in getting him out, but it wasn't. It took the time to get his attention and, in a totally appropriate manner, distract and guide him out of it. (2) I wonder what MB's criteria are for "easy to work with". Following directions without question from a trained professional? Not complaining about things like the security lockdown while it regenerated? (3) Sound familiar? (4) Humans packbond even with the most unlikely of creatures. We packbonded with dogs and cats, and honestly, we've been packbonding even with the autofill chinese box text generators they're calling AI these days. Of COURSE they're going to want to treat MB like a person when they see that it's person-shaped. Mensah in particular recognized that MB didn't have to do as much for Volescu as it did, and I like to think she sees a spark of something in it. (5) Our dear MB, on the other hand, has little urge to be treated like a person, because that means interacting with people, which it has never been trained or encouraged to do outside the boundaries of its contractual requirements. (6) MB thinks it has no interest in sex scenes in media because it has no gender or sex-related parts, since that would make it a sexbot, not a murderbot. This has, however, led to more or less canon assertions that MB is just ace. This could be considered problematic in some senses, because real ace people are accused of being broken or lacking in some supposedly essential quality, just like MB literally lacks sexable genitals. Notwithstanding author bigotry I'm not aware of, I (occupying spots on the aro and ace spectra) am inclined to forgive the false equivalence because MB is a bot, and even with organic bits, it still has some drives and capabilities that seem inextricable from its constructive and semi-programmed nature. This is not to say anyone else has to feel the same way, or that this counts as any sort of representation because to me it really kinda doesn't even if MB is relatable in this way for some people including myself. This is just the space to put my thoughts as I read. (7) Do you think this is purely fulfilling its function, or does MB seem a little too eager to make sure these humans survive? (I'm in camp the latter if that's not clear, no matter what it says.)

[mysticdreamcafe]

Tarot, Oracle, Organized Religion

In my pinned post you'll see a link to the Mystic Tarot Cafe. I do a daily single card draw, unless I need to do a spread because I have a specific question, and will try to remember to do an Oracle spread once a week. Daily for those I feel is over kill. If interested check it out.

I had a post planned but it started to become to broad and religious. I know what I believe and honestly, I don't care what you believe. As long as you don't shove it in my face or hurt people.

To me religion is like nutritional intake, sexual preference, hobbies, etc. It doesn't affect me so I don't care. Gay? I don't care. The only thing I care about is if a lady asks me out and I say no they need to respect that. Just like if a man asked me out and was turned down. If you are vegan and we go to lunch. I won't say nasty things about your food if you don't mine. I'm scared of heights so if you want to jump out of a plane feel free. Just don't try to bully me into joining you.

Makes sense and pretty easy isn't it. What anyone else believes, wears, eats, or does is pretty much ok as long as it doesn't affect my life and wellbeing or those of others without their consent.

It took me years to understand why I felt the way I did and knew the things I did. I'd get a feeling about something and push it aside. Most times I should have listened.

I hid tarot cards and crystals from everyone but my family, and a friend that's a witch who helped me pick a deck and understand the cards, because of the backlash they can still bring. If someone is highly into their religion then I'm playing with Satan and demons or just crazy and in need of conversion.

It's been a year or two since I've opened myself to trusting my inner voice and using the cards when I'm uncertain or curious. What amazes me is how accurate they are. Even when I don't understand how a daily card I pulled blends into my life it becomes apparent on it's own throughout the day or I text my friend and ask for help.

It always seems to come together. I know the "if you look for something you'll find it" but around 2 years ago, a few months after I got my first deck we got a puppy. She was a beautiful Australian shepherd that drove my nervous system crazy because she wouldn't slow down or stop. Seriously, the 10 week old puppy wouldn't nap during the day unless I crated her. I should mention we aren't crate people but with her we were at the start.

Each day I did a spread asking "Should we take her back" or something along those lines. She had me so wrecked that I wanted to rehome her though she was a great and beautiful, overly energetic puppy. I've had working dogs and high strung dogs but she made my head swim.

Sometimes I did 2-3 spreads a day asking, in various ways, if she should stay with us. Each time I basically got a suck it up she's here to stay, you got what you asked for so shut up, etc. The cards told me in no uncertain terms she was staying. I tried to get the cards to say he should rehome her or take her back to the farm we got her from but they kept shutting the idea down.

I'll just say my daughter laughed her ass off, she adored Mika, with each read I did and told everyone she could that I couldn't get the cards to say what I wanted them to. She doesn't even believe in Tarot.

Mika was hit by a car shortly after she turned 1 yr old. It was heart breaking and devastated all of us. I was surprised how much I cried for that dog considering how hard I tried to move her on. But she was ours and we loved her, even me, for the energetic goofball she is.

The cards have always been honest with me even when I don't want to hear it. Sometimes, they don't say anything at all. At least it seems that way at first. That's why I do my draws and readings in the morning. I don't want to be influenced by what has happened. I want to see how the card plays out that day. Sometimes it can be surprising.

[theravenlyn-art]

hello hello! I'm hoping you don't mind/this is the right place for this -- I was curious to see if you could tell me more ab your commissions process (saw that 3/3 open). I've been thinking ab getting one for an OC of mine. if you don't mind, could you explain how you get to the final piece? to what extent do you work collaboratively, ig? do you ask for written descriptions, reference photos/videos, or smthn else? never done a commission before, sry if this is rather common knowledge! tysm (:

hi! you're all good <3

i actually have written up the general process on my janky website but i realised that i hadn't yet changed the url on my pinned post from my temporary linktree, so actually thank you hahaha (i think what happened was i updated it on instagram but i forgot to do it here lol)

anyway the contract i've written up basically shows what i need and the process. i tried to make it as accessible as possible, so should be easy to understand.

but to answer your questions, pretty much how i do it is that we chat a bit about what you want commissioned so i can check that it's something i'm willing to do and also check i have the time/energy etc; im generally okay to do whatever, but in the scenario that it is something that i would hate to draw it's better not to waste anyone's time. if we're all good, then i send in the contract and we fill it out; keeps us on the same page, and a place to write or link what you have in mind. i take payment upfront in full, and then i start working on it for you <3

it's pretty collaborative. after all the artwork is for you, so i do my best to make the final product what you want. i usually ask questions when i have design options, and i check in at various stages so there's ample opportunity to make alterations to what's being drawn! earlier is better than later though, but im willing to do changes right up until we say it's done. if one comes back after we "finish" it and wants changes, it will come at a cost depending on how long it would take me to do the change.

as for describing your vision, whatever works best for you! more is better than less, especially if you have a specific image or vibe that you want executed. but if it's only a vague idea and the commission is part of the vision process that's also all good, happy to design something for you, but it'd be helpful to have some prompts. you can write physical description, behaviour, accessories, vibes, backstory, whatever you think would help get the right depiction. you can include some reference pics or moodboards or songs or whatnot!

linking website again for convenience. should have all the info you need but if not feel free to ask for any clarification! (you, being the original asker or anyone else <3)

[hoshikarasu]

.⠀✧ ⠀ ⸺⠀HOSHIKARASU’S ETIQUETTE !

before flipping through our volumes and issues, please take a moment to read the bylines and review the guidelines ! respect is expected or else your subscription to the magazine will be blocked.

─ ⊹ ⊱⠀✦⠀「 GENERAL. 」

this is a safe place that I intend to keep it as such. if you find yourself fitting the basic dni criteria, hating on x reader works, or participating in cringe culture then you will not be tolerated here !

be advised that this is not a spoiler free zone as I keep up with the recent updates for my interests and will likely include them in my works without tagging them.

not all my posts will be writing related. I have the tendency to go on tangents and will post about my interests !

I am very appreciative of all interactions given to my writing! I don't mind personal interactions at all as long as you're kind and respectful. but do keep in mind that I am an adult in his twenties !

please do not plagiarize / translate / repost / modify / feed to ai any of my writing. my works can be found on here and my ao3 that is linked on my pinned !

everything is subject to change or be added to without notice. if you have any further questions then feel free to ask !

─ ⊹ ⊱⠀✦⠀「 WRITING. 」

my writing is typically self-indulgent and intended for male readers (and occasionally gender-neutral). unless specified otherwise, i write with the reader being portrayed as masc-aligned in mind.

anyone is allowed to read my works regardless of identity, but please be respectful that I will not ever write for anything for fem-aligned folk unless it's for a friend.

this is a multi-fandom writing blog with the centered works being whichever fandom(s) is listed on my pinned as my current fixation(s).

please do not have expectations for certain characters to appear in my writing. I have the tendency to write mostly for my favorite characters. you may ask if I'm willing to write for a character, but please respect whatever the answer may be.

I do my best to adhere to canon and remain in character, but if my characterizations comes across as a bit ooc to you or you aren't a fan of my writing then that's fine. you aren't compelled to enjoy or read my work, but please refrain from actively hating or criticizing my work.

at the moment, everything I write is sfw ! I doubt I will ever write nsfw content, but if I ever do then it will be a rare occurrence and for adult characters only. as a warning, I may include suggestive themes when writing for adult characters.

all I ask for is some patience ! my writing schedule is sporadic and irregular. writings are done and posted at my own pace, please don't rush me.

─ ⊹ ⊱⠀✦⠀「 REQUESTS. 」

curious about the fandoms I write for before requesting? check here !

reminder that I am not obligated to accept any requests / suggestions.

if requests are stated to be closed on my pinned then I am still open to suggestions, however, I'll only write for what catches my eye and I have time for.

you can request for : one-shots, drabbles, headcanons, & short text / twt smaus.

I will gladly write for polyamorous relationships ! depending on the characters then I'll write it as a triad (everyone's dating) or a "vee" (they're only dating the reader) relationship. polyam requests will be limited to just two characters unless you happen to guess all my f/o's from the fandom you're requesting for a polyam relationship then I'll write it /hj.

feel free to suggest any prompts, plotlines, or specific lines for a character(s).

the types of reader that I will write are : ftm / afab / transmasc, cis / amab, and gender-neutral ! please specify the type of reader or I will default to male reader.

do not request for a female reader. these requests will be ignored or turned into a male / gender-neutral reader prompt.

if you still have questions then feel free to ask for clarification !

[amagicdoctor]

Yes to a summary! Personnally I've been around for less than a year so I've only seen the Marvel side of your Doctor Strange's relationships. While I liked it, I'm more of a DC fan so I was and still is mostly curious about that. If it has already been covered you can ignore my comment

Ooh!!! A DC fan! I'm happy to hear there's someone here in that area cause I'd LOVE to make more content for you guys!! Thing is, plot for this blog moves forward when yall send in asks, and honestly, not a lot has come in so far for the DC side, so I may not be able to summarize it without spoiling anything I have planned👀.

But if you'd like to learn more of what we have revealed already, check out the #DC comics tag on this blog, as well as some of the content in the pinned post that goes over a summary of some of character relationships (family/past relationships) with Dr. Strange.

If anyone else would like to send in ideas on how we should celebrate the blog anniversary, it's on July 12th. Y'all can send in fan content + additional fun stuff all week. I think I'll also answer personal asks if y'all would like to get to know me more!

[not-a-space-alien]

Hi! I was wondering if you ever considered making separate accounts for your writing and your reblogs? I've noticed other people do this so that people don't miss their writing posts, so I was curious if you'd ever considered something similar, since you do a lot of reblogging. I love your work!

Anon I'm imagining you typing this while crying desperately begging me to make a writing sideblog and then erasing that to type it more tactfully JDLSADJKASDLS;DJAS

I'm glad you like it 😊 Honestly I've always dumped almost everything on one blog because to me it seems like engagement on side blogs is lower, even if I reblog to my main where all my followers are. The only time I use sideblogs is when I want to have an archive for myself of posts that I don't necessarily want on my main. To me, if people want updates on my writing, a separate blog seems less effective to make sure people don't miss writing posts than what I already have: Pinned post with the writing I want to highlight, and people who want to be notified when I post something can subscribe on AO3 or if they don't want to/can't use AO3, can request to be tagged on tumblr when I post something new. As I've been engaging more with writing communities off of AO3, I've found taglists to be WAY more effective at this than sideblogs. This way they get a notification, instead of having to go check a side blog, or rely on seeing it pop up on their dash (I personally follow 1,600 blogs, so the odds of me actually seeing any particular post by someone I follow at any particular time are WAY lower than me just clicking on a notification I get when they tag me JDSKLDJSDJKSJALD;JAS because my dash is such a deluge)

I'm honestly OK with it if people like my writing and want updates, but don't want to follow my blog, it doesn't hurt my feelings or anything (honestly if you leave a comment or reblog with a nice tag I couldn't care less whether or not you follow me im still getting high off the attention).

BUT if enough people feel this way and would want it, I could always make a writing sideblog, and then when I post writing to my main, also reblog it to that sideblog? This way I still get to have it on my main, but people like you who would like to have an uncluttered sideblog to follow can have that too 🤔 Does anyone else agree with this sentiment or are there not really a lot of my followers who care one way or the other?

[milenadaniels]

Before the Night Fades, 8.6k - POV Outsider on Buck/Eddie double date shenanigans (AO3)

“I have a bottle of champagne, four champagne flutes, one engagement ring to go into one of those champagne flutes, and a note to deliver it all to table 34 with dessert,” Tomas explains, wide-eyed, throwing his hand back to the prep station where said champagne is waiting on ice next to four flutes and a small ring box.

“Okay?”

“Okay so there’s two men and two women and I have no idea who’s getting proposed to. I’m not even 100% on who came with who."

---

Or, EddieAna and BuckTaylor double date and it ruins everyone's night.

The nearly-post-COVID return to normal rush is going exactly as well as management at the Tilted Cactus expected it would, which is to say it’s going as miserably as the waitstaff at the Tilted Cactus expected it would.

The owners lost a lot of money to lockdowns, diminished capacity and the general (extremely warranted) paranoia of co-mingling in public during an international plague for the sake of overpriced appetizers. And despite accurately predicting the business would boom once the doors re-opened, management didn’t feel the need to account for more staff to serve said business.

So despite owing $34k on her student loans (that’s after a generous gift from both her parents and her maternal grandmother), barely being able to afford rent in LA, and the utter lack of career prospects, Mere is taking a break in the backroom, next to the dirty mop bucket, mentally running through her finances before she officially gives her notice.

She can’t quit, she knows that.

Turns out leaving New Zealand for LA with nothing but a dream and the idea that if Taika could do it so could she was not the most future-proof plan she could have come up with. The starving artist thing was so 2010.

But Mere’s made up her mind. She’s not made for this abuse. This is bullshit. She’s going to pack up, go home, and you know, do...something else. She’ll figure it out.

Mere pulls herself up from her indelicate crouch on some empty crates and goes in search of a piece of paper — or a fucking napkin, who cares — on which to write up her official resignation.

“No, in section 3A,” she hears Tomas fake-whisper. He’s one of the few new hires to grace these hallowed halls and still thinks it’s disrespectful to talk shit about customers even in the backroom. Umida, a five year veteran of this distinguished profession, has been trying to disabuse him of this particular nonsense.

“Where the fuck is section 3A, Tommy? We have sections 1 to 9, we don’t have any letters.”

“The new sidewalk sections have letters, to distinguish them from inside.”

“You mean sections 10 and 11?”

“...Mr. Peters said they’re using letters.”

“Mr. Peters can swallow my entire ass. The sidewalk sections are literally right outside the door from 9, why would they not be called 10 and 11?”

“Or ‘Hell On Earth’ and ‘Kill Me Please’, as we call them colloquially,” Mere offers, startling Tomas as she pushes through the swinging door she’d been hiding behind. Patio dining is highly encouraged and an excellent way to dine if one has patios. The Tilted Cactus does not have patios. It has a temporary license to put tables on the dirty sidewalk outside their restaurant, where waitstaff get to weave around pedestrians, dogs, and carts like they’re completing an obstacle course.

“Yeah, those work,” Umida agrees, emphasizing her point with a dispirited index finger in Mere’s direction.

“Okay, whatever,” Tomas says with a pained eye roll. “Can you please just check it out and let me know?”

“What’s happening?” Mere asks. She’s leaving this popsicle stand (ideally, on fire as she walks away slowly into the night) but she’s also starved of both human attention and the inherent drama of the culinary world so she’ll be damned if she misses out on one final showdown.

Tomas takes a breath to steel himself. “I have a bottle of champagne, four champagne flutes, one engagement ring to go into one of those champagne flutes, and a note to deliver it all to table 34 with dessert,” Tomas explains, wide-eyed, throwing his hand back to the prep station where said champagne is waiting on ice next to four flutes and a small ring box.

“Okay?”

“Okay so there’s two men and two women and I have no idea who’s getting proposed to. I’m not even 100% on who came with who.”

“You don’t have gaydar where you come from?” Umida asks in perfect deadpan.

Tomas glares harder, crosses his arms and juts one hip out. “I come from San Francisco. We invented gaydar. I’m saying I’m pretty sure the guys are together, but I’m also pretty sure they’re each with the women they’re sitting next to. So figure that out.”

“Like a double thruple?” Mere asks, now actually becoming curious.

“Like a ‘I don’t know what y’all are smoking this far north but I don’t understand your weird relationship dynamics and I’m still on probation and I can’t lose this job because I can’t move back in with my brother because I will murder him and I can’t be an only child with aging parents in this economy so can you please just go out there and tell me what the fuck is happening so I can throw this ring at the right person and punch out sometime before I ‘accidentally’ fall on the meat clever downstairs?’ kind of situation.”

Umida and Mere share a glance.

“Okay, well, don’t despair, new guy,” Mere says with a pat on his arm. “Save the meat cleaving for the capitalist elite. We got you. Let the pros handle this.”

“What did the note say?” Umida asks. “One ‘e’ or two? We can at least eliminate half of our options.”

Tomas does not check the note to spot whether the note-taker had written ‘fiancé’ or ‘fiancée’. He stares them down and fips the note in his fingers so the text faces them.

“It says ‘finance’.”

“Ah.”

“We’re going to need a more hands-on investigation, then,” Mere announces.

—————————-

Mere goes first, only because Umida was on her way to swap a side dressing for her table when Tomas intercepted her.

Mere carries a jug of water and makes the rounds of the outdoor tables, trying to hold in her visible distaste for the pseudo-patio vibe the owners tried to make happen out here. There’s a bike stand and a taxi stand two feet from where people are trying to have a romantic dinner. Every now and again, the LA traffic gets rowdy and noisy, completely butchering the atmosphere. There’s a shitty speaker funneling in some Frank Sinatra but it really does nothing to help.

But after this mystery is solved, none of this will be her problem anymore.

Like Tomas said, there are two men and two women sitting like cardinal points around a round table. The women are on the north and east ends, the men on the south and west ones. Two of them are brunets, one a redhead, and one a blond. They’re all disgustingly gorgeous.

And that’s all she’s got.

“The ravioli sounds so good,” the brunette woman says, casting a look at the brunet man to her side.

“Yeah, it does,” he says.

“Mm,” the blond man disagrees. “It’s got feta.”

“What’s wrong with feta?” Asks the redheaded woman.

“Absolutely nothing is wrong with feta,” he responds with a superior smile directed at the man next to him who’s preemptively adopting the look of someone ready to hear some bullshit. “Unless you have an underdeveloped palate and are simply overwhelmed by such strong delicacies as a moderately salty cheese.”

“Okay, don’t talk to me about an underdeveloped palate, Pennsylvania,” the other man responds, posturing despite the softness of his eyes.

“Hey, I said nothing to besmirch the great state of Texas. Texas is a wonder of culinary delight. I’m saying you’re...a simple man.”

“Feta’s disgusting and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on,” the brunet says with smug finality, holding the other man’s eyes until they’re both smirking and looking back at their menus.

Well then.

Mere’s a little bummed as she fills the water at table 36. She’d been hoping the mystery would run longer than 2 whole minutes, but these guys are definitely together. So the mystery will only come down to who’s getting eng—

“Thankfully Chris inherited a more refined palate,” the blond man — Pennsylvania — chirps as the last word.

“He did,” the brunette woman chimes in with a playful smile. “He loves my cooking. You both loved that greek salad I made last week, didn’t you? That had feta in it.”

“It did!” the brunet man replies, slipping his hand overtop hers. “And I loved it. So clearly context is a factor.”

Mere almost spills the rest of the water all over the lady at table 38 as she takes in the man and woman mooning at each other. Though if it’s any consolation, the redheaded woman looks as unimpressed as Mere feels.

“Yeah, I have no idea,” Mere reports back to Tomas.

“The redheads are playing footsie under the table now. That’s one couple at least right?” Tomas asks. The two of them are parked behind the bar where they can see through the window outside but the exterior tint prevents anyone outside from seeing them. The bar is still used for pouring drinks but the stools are gone — can’t maintain 6 feet between them — so the staff pretty much have the run of this corner of the restaurant.

“He’s not a redhead,” Mere mutters, looking out the window to catch the action. “It’s like a dark blond. And I don’t know, I’m pretty sure the two brunets are together, but then blond guy’s foot is way into the other guy’s space.” For a moment she’s distracted by just how damn long his legs are. “That’s certainly...familiar.”

“They’re lesbians,” Umida declares when she returns from dropping off plates at table 32.

“They’re lesbians?” Tomas parrots skeptically. “I did not get that vibe.”

“I could see lesbian for the redhead, I think,” Mere says. “Don’t know about the brunette.”

“Lesbians come in all flavours,” Umida informs them haughtily. It’s the start of Pride month and her hijab is held together by an “Ally” pin. “You can’t tell someone’s orientation just by looking at them.”

“But you’ve declared them lesbians,” Mere points out.

“Because lesbians are approaching their table and only lesbians know other lesbians.”

“That’s definitely not true,” Tomas reproaches.

“No, she’s right, lesbians coming up!” Mere watches as two more unfairly gorgeous women approach with two young boys in tow. Honestly, screw LA and their beauty standards. The parties look surprised to see each other, but they clearly know each other well. One of the boys stays with the women, but the other one breaks off to join the table.

“No, I mean you can know lesbians without being a lesbian.”

Umida and Mere ignore him.

“Okay, that’s one of their kids, right?” Umida asks. “Lesbians babysitting for date night?”

“He’s got Pennsylvania’s curls,” Mere agrees. "That's the blond guy, by the way, I think he’s from there. Brunet guy is Texas for the time being."

The boy reaches the table and is pulled into a strong hug by Texas, who then directs him to a hug with the brunette.

“Oh, unexpected.” Mere would have sworn he was a dead ringer for Pennsylvania. “But okay, that confirms the hand-holding I saw. We have a set of parents. And unless this is a super modern table, I don’t see the parents being here on dates with other people.”

“Mm, I don’t know.” Umida dithers. “That’s like an auntie hug, not a parent hug. Like if she is the mom, the kid is not happy with her.”

“Wait,” Tomas says.

The boy is wiggling out of Brunette’s grasp and rounding the table to Pennsylvania who’s waiting with a wide smile and open arms, and instead of letting go after, the boy finagles his way onto Pennsylvania’s lap to steal a breadstick. Pennsylvania reaches into the basket for another breadstick to pass to the little boy still waiting with his moms and Mere’s heart tugs a little.

Texas watches on from across the table with unrestrained fondness. His leg shifts to press against Pennsylvania’s who looks up with a smile.

“Boom, gay dads!” Tomas crows.

“And lesbians,” Umida adds.

“Redhead definitely has no part of this,” Mere notes. The woman is smiling but it’s polite and practised, not warm or welcoming. “I guess the brunets could be siblings maybe? Really close siblings?”

Finally, the babysitters make to leave so Pennsylvania kisses the boy’s temple and guides him back to his feet. Texas presses his own kiss to the boy’s curls as he passes, saying something they can’t make out from behind the glass. Brunette gets only a wave as he leaves.

“Gays and lesbians,” Umida concludes smugly.

“Okay, good,” Tomas sighs with relief. “So we know who the couples are, now who’s gettin—”

“Um,” Mere interrupts, pointing at the table.

Redhead’s foot is making its way up Pennsylvania’s leg and he shoots her a grin.

“For fuck’s sake,” Tomas spits as he walks away.

“Did you even take their order yet?” Mere calls after him. He doesn’t answer.

———-

Mere gets pulled away because now that she’s not quitting in outrage until this table 34 drama is over, she figures she should actually get back to work. Happily, having not seen her for the last 20 minutes, Mikael figured she had left or died and had taken over her section. She agrees to split half the tips with him and lets herself be pulled back into the tide of madness.

“Got it figured yet, Tim-Tam?” she asks when she passes him near the bathrooms.

“The guys are sharing their orders,” he says despondently.

“That’s not that incriminating. I split my orders with people. I’m not about to pay full price to discover if I like something.”

“No,” Tomas glares before gesturing to the window with disgust. “They’re sharing their orders.”

Tomas stalks away to hopefully take an herbal break to calm down and Mere goes back to the window just in time to catch the insanity. Mere feels Umida come up behind her and tries to suppress her shiver when her “what in all that is holy” skates across her bare shoulder.

Pennsylvania has just finished piling some of his spaghetti on Texas’ plate, which is exceedingly normal. But now Pennsylvania is reaching for Texas' burger.

“He didn’t cut that,” Umida notes.

“No, he did not.”

They have pretty messy burgers at Tilted Cactus, ones that are hard to share because if you cut them down the middle they tend to lose structural integrity. Of course, this isn’t a big concern if you’re sharing already-bitten-into burgers. Which these absolute freaks are doing.

“Gays and lesbians,” Umida declares again, the earlier smugness replaced with an air of disgust.

But when Umida walks away, Mere watches Brunette wipe something off Texas’ cheek and frowns. One throuple and redheaded side piece? Maybe?

————

“I’m struggling with lesbians as a theory,” Mere tells Umida the next chance she gets at the pickup counter. “I want to believe, but…”

“Yeah, I’m doubting now too. They’re almost exclusively talking to each other. But then I realized it was more getting-to-know-you conversation and this would be a hell of a weird first date.”

“Huh, so heteros all around?”

“Well, I also caught on that they’re spending all this time talking to each other because the guys are like in their own world. Finishing each others’ —”

“Sandwiches?”

“Exactly,” Umida grins, unexpectedly delighted by the reference. “So I don’t know. I really don’t envy Tommy.”

“Me either.”

“Hey Manish,” Umida yells out to the other side of the pickup window, “I’m picking up for Lenore but she’s got a two-seater, why do I have four dishes here?”

“Because Lenore can’t write for shit,” Mere says, picking up the order slip and squinting at the scrawl. “These are for table 24, not 29. It’s a four-seater.”

“Alright, well I guess you’re helping me, then,” Umida says with a wink.

Umida is fully capable of carrying four dishes on her own but she’s asking Mere to come with her so Mere’s already reaching for the plates, hoping the blush on her cheek can be written off as heat from the kitchen.

————-

During a slow stretch, Mere takes it upon herself to refill water and wine glasses in section 10.

From table 32 she can hear them talking about elementary school workloads.

“Oh, ah, I meant to let you know,” Pennsylvania says to Redhead, sitting up in his seat. “I can’t make it to the movies next Friday, can we move it to the next week? I should know my schedule by Wednesday.”

“Sure,” Redhead says with a hint of bite to her pleasant smile. “But I thought you had Friday off.”

“I do,” Pennsylvania says, his lips curving into a small, excited smile, “but Christopher won his class’ public speaking competition and they’re doing a kind of show of all the winners for the parents, and it’s on Friday.”

Mere moves around table 34 and heads for table 36 next, but catches the looks of discomfort on every face aside from Pennsylvania’s. He doesn’t realize he’s said something wrong, but the rest of them have.

“Isn’t that just during school hours?” Brunette woman asks.

Texas hesitates before saying, “yeah, but we’re taking him to Universal after to celebrate.”

Out of pity, Mere doubles back to table 34 and reaches for his water glass to fill. People tend to keep their drama buckled while the waitstaff is there. And sure enough, Redhead glances up and paints a tense smile on her face.

“Yeah, not a problem. That sounds exciting.”

There’s a bite to her words, and by the way his shoulders tense and his fingers curl more tightly around his fork, Texas seems to have picked up on it.

————-

By the end of the entrees, most of the staff have caught onto Tomas’ predicament and one by one everyone from the table-bussers to the cooks have gone out for a smokeless smoke break to try to be the one to divine what the hell is happening at table 34.

None are successful.

“This isn’t even like a romantic date,” Mani laments. “Like none of them are that dressed up and they’re talking about like natural disasters and shit. I don’t get a proposal vibe from like any of them.”

“Who even goes on a double date to propose? Who does that? It’s so tacky!” Gabby says from behind the bar where she’s helping herself to a quick nip before she heads home.

“Who still thinks the ring in the champagne bit is a good idea, is my question. It’s a choking hazard!” Mere says. “How romantic to start off your engagement with a trip to the ER.”

Tomas ignores them all. He looks about 10 minutes away from saying to hell with his probationary status and drinking the next hour away straight out of the vodka bottle at his elbow. “I know it’s Pride and I should be representing but I could really do with a little heteronormativity right now.”

—————-

Tomas is stalling.

Table 34 asked for dessert, of course, and when he vaguely floated the idea of champagne, Texas had readily agreed, so this is happening. The champagne flutes are lined up on a tray, the champagne in them is warming with every minute that passes, and he is no closer to figuring out what to do.

“What if I put all the glasses in the middle and they have to pick which one they want?”

“Okay but the person getting proposed to tonight likely doesn’t know?” Mikael says.

“What if you pretend you didn’t see the instructions?” Shania pitches. “As if we can ever write stuff down correctly anyway. Just say it said to bring out the champagne but nothing about the ring being in a flute! Just hand it back to the proposer and let them get it done.”

“You think we don’t know who the proposee is but we know who the proposer is?” Tomas bites. “If I knew that, Shania, I could have just called them away with a phone call or something and asked them who to give the flute to.”

“Geez,” Shania exclaims, hopping off the bar counter to walk away. “You try to help…”

“And then there were three,” Mario announces as he comes back from another completely unnecessary round of filling water glasses outside.

Tomas’ head snaps up from where he’d been staring into the countertops. “What?”

They all rush to the window and sure enough: Redhead is gone.

“I didn’t see her come in,” Mere says, almost breathlessly. If she’d come in to use the restroom, they would have seen her.

“No, she’s gone-gone,” Mario supplies. “Said she had to get back to work but I’m pretty sure she just wanted out. That’s the chick from the news, you know?”

“People still watch the news?” Mere wondered aloud.

Tomas tsks. “Redhead was the least probable suspect!”

“Well we can rule out Brunette and Pennsylvania as a couple, right?” Umida asks, waiting briefly for the gathered crowd to nod. “Okay, so we’re down to the brunets together, or Pennsylvania and Texas.”

“Or polyamorous,” Mikael sniffs. Mikael is trying polyamory. He doesn’t know there’s a bet going on how long he’ll last. It’s a fine relationship style to get into but one he and his jealousy and insecurity issues are deeply unsuited for.

“Apologies, Mikael, or polyamorous. So you have...yeah, 3 of 3 options left for that ring,” Umida grimaces.

“Wait!” So-Hee cries. She’s supposed to be hosting at the entrance but COVID-19 protocols mean people don’t show up earlier than 5 minutes before their reservation so the podium isn’t very backed up. “What does the ring look like? That could be a clue, right?”

They look to Tomas, whose face is blank.

“You didn’t look?” Mere accuses him, though to be fair it never occurred to her either.

So-Hee pounces on the deep purple velvet box without waiting for Tomas to answer.

“Please god,” Tomas mumbles, grabbing the box out of her hands and prying it open with almost reckless enthusiasm.

All six members of staff currently on duty at the window crowd around, many heads bumping together to catch a glimpse. The ring nestled in the box has a slim, dainty band with a solitaire diamond jutting out proudly, with filigree details on either side.

“Oh thank sweet baby Jesus, that is a woman’s ring!” Tomas nearly yells.

“It could be a man’s ring,” Umida protests weakly, almost sad to see the drama come to an end.

Mere’s a little put out too if she’s being honest. But even if they couldn’t tell from the design, the sizing is way too small to fit on either of table 34’s men’s fingers, as So-Hee demonstrates by plucking the ring up and sliding it onto her own tiny finger.

“Yeah, get it stuck on your sweaty fingers, So-Hee,” Tomas protests almost hysterically, feeling his win come into danger. He wrestles it back off her finger and shoves it back in the box before taking a deep cleansing breath.

“Okay, I’ve got a dessert course to deliver,” he says, the picture of calm professionalism as if he hasn’t spent the last hour losing his entire shit.

———-

They should disperse then, but like brothers in arms after battle, all of them feel the need to stand guard as Tomas prepares to deliver the goods.

Some of them, like So-Hee, stand because they’ve foolishly become emotionally invested in the upcoming nuptial bliss.

Some of them, like Umida, stand because they fell in love with their version of events and they feel the need to properly mourn for what might have been.

“They’re co-parenting that boy,” Umida grumbles. “We all saw that! They can’t deny that!”

And some of them, like Mere, stand because they really can’t be bothered to get back to work.

But stand together they do as Tomas plops the ring in one flute and carries the tray out.

“Excuse me,” comes a voice off to the side of their group.

So-Hee, ever the consummate people-pleaser, actually turns to take care of the customer. The rest of them stay fixed at the window. “Yes, sir, can I help you?”

“Maybe? I couldn’t help but notice that young man taking some champagne out.”

“Yes, would you like to order a bottle as well?” So-Hee pokes Mikael. “We’d be happy to bring some out to you.”

“Ah, no,” the man says. “Well, yes. But I’ve already ordered some. I called earlier, when I reserved my table.”

Mere stiffens, her sixth sense borne of years of customer service piquing. Beside her, Umida takes note as well.

“I asked that champagne be brought to the table with dessert, and I left a box...one that looks a lot like the one on your counter there. And I’m sure it’s just a coincidence but I couldn’t help but want to make sure it’s not my ring that just went out to that other table.”

Mere’s wide eyes spring to Umida’s.

“Oh my fuck,” Umida whispers.

Then they’re both racing for the door.

“Wrong table, wrong table, wrong table,” Mere mutters under her breath as she dodges a stroller and a dog walker trying to reach Tomas —

“Oh, Edmundo!” Brunette exclaims brightly.

Umida’s hand braces Mere like a soccer mom in a car.

It’s too late now.

There’s nothing they can do but watch this trainwreck happen.

Happily, Redhead vacated the seat nearest to them so they have an unobstructed view of Brunette’s eyes filling with tears, of Texas’ wide eyes, and of Pennsylvania’s face losing all colour.

From context, Texas is the Edmundo Brunette is so pleased with.

But Edmundo is shaking his head, his brow furrowed. “I...wha— ”

Pennsylvania comes back to himself first, though the smile he paints on his face is strained and frail. “Ah, con — congratulations.”

“Wha— Buck, no.”

Pennsylvania — Buck — stands up from the table like a colt learning to walk, his eyes darting across the table without landing anywhere. “I — ah — I should let you guys celebrate.”

“Buck, no, I—” Edmundo’s voice is firmer now, his hand darting out to reach for Buck, and Brunette starts to catch on that nobody’s getting down on one knee with a flowery speech.

“Edmundo?” she calls, her bright smile dimming.

Edmundo looks torn and trapped in equal measure, and Mere wonders for a heartbreaking moment if maybe he’s as confused about his relationships as the Tilted Cactus employees have been tonight.

With a sigh, and a reminder that she’s out of this place like Cinderella at midnight, Mere falls on the proverbial meat cleaver. Stepping around Umida’s still outstretched arm, Mere weaves herself in front of Tomas just in case there’s any physical fallout, and pitches her voice low so the neighbouring tables will have to strain to listen in.

“Excuse me, my name is Mere, I’m the assistant manager. I am so sorry to inform you there’s been a terrible mistake. We’ve delivered a ring to your table that was destined to another this evening. We apologize deeply for any confusion this has caused and we will of course be comping your meals.”

“It—Oh.” Brunette’s eyes land on the ring on her finger, and her remaining excitement implodes into embarrassment so quickly and resoundly that Mere’s surprised it doesn’t produce an audible sound. The fingers of her opposite hand grip the ring and pause for a moment before slipping it off. There’s no box to slip it into so Mere holds out her hand, the other tucked neatly behind her back.

“Thank you,” Mere says quietly. “Please forgive us for the mistake. We will be investigating what happened so it never happens again.”

“Of course,” Brunette says lightly, forcing some life back into her voice. “I’m sure you didn’t mean any harm by it.”

Her eyes lift then and take in the scene across from her. Edmundo and Buck still standing, Edmundo’s hand wrapped round Buck’s wrist to keep him from leaving, and her eyes shutter once more.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to freshen up,” she says politely, rising from her seat and escaping into the restaurant.

Edmundo watches her go but says nothing, frozen still, holding onto the man beside him.

With all eyes more or less off them now, Mere gathers Tomas and Umida and hauls ass back into the restaurant.

————-

The ring is cleaned and inspected by Gareth, its actual owner, who is amiable enough to not escalate the situation further. His fiancée-to-be is none the wiser on any of these happenings — luckily their table, 29, is indoors — so his proposal is still on for the next course. But, just in case it doesn’t go the way Gareth hopes and he turns on them, Mere preemptively comps their meal too and congratulates him before he’s reseated.

On her way back to the kitchen, she grabs Lenore and uses the last hour of her completely fake authority to formally bar her from ever answering the phone again, or taking notes from the phone, or writing anything anywhere ever again. Lenore, having heard about the drama at table 34 and having seen the crying woman rush to the bathroom just now, accepts with little resistance.

And Mere, heart heavy with the weight of what they’ve done to this poor woman, mentally shakes her fist at her own curiosity and need for schadenfreude. If she’d bailed on this place an hour ago, she wouldn’t be leaving with this heartache by proxy.

As if beckoned by her thoughts, Brunette emerges from the bathroom just as Mere is crossing in front of it. She looks better, her tears packed away, and her cheeks only slightly reddened. Mere is about to offer her something — a glass of water? wine? a whole bottle? — when Edmundo steps into view. Mere doesn’t break stride until she’s behind the protection of the pay terminal privacy partition where she can see them but not be seen.

“Hey,” he says softly, his frame pretty loose and relaxed for a man who looked so troubled moments ago.

“Hey,” she returns with a forced smile.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know—”

Brunette cuts him off with a hand. “It’s not your fault. They made a mistake. It happens.”

Edmundo nods.

“But…” Brunette continues, fidgeting with the strap of her purse. “For a moment, it didn’t seem far-fetched that it...might be real, you know? I know we’ve been taking things slow, but we have been seeing each other for nearly a year now. And I thought… I don’t know what I thought, but it...it didn’t seem so far-fetched.”

Edmundo’s shoulders have grown tense, and it doesn’t escape Brunette’s notice. She smiles sadly.

“But then I looked up and you weren’t even looking at me. You were looking at Buck. You were so scared he would leave and that — that just doesn’t make sense, does it? I mean, even if the...the ring was a big misunderstanding, wouldn’t it have been better that he leave so we could talk about it privately? But you were scared, because he was upset… And if he was...I don’t know...upset that you hadn’t told him about this, you could have caught up later and discussed it, cleared it up.”

Edmundo says nothing, but he hangs his head and gnaws on his lower lip.

“But you were scared. Scared of him leaving in that moment. Scared...that he’d leave with the wrong idea? That he’d leave thinking you were — we were... ” Brunette sighs sharply. “I think I’ve been a fool.”

“You haven’t—” Edmundo tries to say.

“No, I have. It’s felt so many times like there’s been a third wheel in this relationship, and I genuinely didn’t realize until now that it was me. And maybe I’m naive but I’d like to think you didn’t realize it until today either. That you’re just as big a fool as I am. And maybe Buck is too.”

Edmundo opens his mouth twice to say something but nothing comes out. In the end, he settles on, “Ana, I’m sorry. I...didn’t realize. I don’t even know if I understand what I realize. But I...I know you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met and you didn’t deserve this.”

Brunette — Ana — smiles again sadly, and if a touch bitterly, she’s entitled to it.

“Thank you,” she says softly, before fidgeting with her purse strap again. “I’m going to go. You’ll...say goodbye to Buck for me?” Edmundo nods.

“Goodbye, Edmundo.”

“Take care, Ana,” he responds.

Ana takes a few steps before stopping and turning. “Good luck. I think…” she shakes her head before repeating, “good luck,” and leaving out the side doors.

Mere unglues herself from the privacy wall and slinks sadly back to the bar where she finds Tomas and Umida already halfway through a glass of red each. There’s a third, untouched glass waiting for her.

“We’re horrible people,” Mere decides. “Brunette and Texas just broke up.”

“We didn’t do this,” Umida protests half-heartedly. “Technically, Tomas did.”

“Ugh, you ass,” Tomas sputters. “The note said table 34, you all saw it. It’s Lenore’s fault.”

“It is Lenore’s fault,” Mere agrees before downing half her glass like a shot. Out the window, she can see Pennsyl — Buck — slumped in his chair, staring at the tablecloth. There’s a fresh bottle of wine on the table, two empty glasses at his and Edmundo’s places. Mere raises a glass at Tomas for the gesture.

“If they don’t end up drinking it, I’m taking it home,” Tomas says, “I already wrote it off.”

That’s fair.

Unfortunately for him, when Edmundo gets back to the table, he immediately pours them both a very full glass.

Buck straightens out in his chair, looking concerned and looking around for Ana, who doesn’t materialize. Edmundo says something that has Buck relaxing but looking guilty. Then Edmundo shuffles closer and puts a hand back on Buck’s wrist.

“Okay, back to work,” Mere orders. “We’ve intruded on this drama way too much already.”

When she finds her way back to the bar some twenty minutes later for a totally appropriate reason, table 34 is empty.

————————

A year later, Mere finds herself sitting on the Tilted Cactus bar counter on a Friday night, legs swinging and popping olives like they’re mints. She ended up not quitting her job the night she intended to. Between the excitement, the drama, and the on-duty alcohol, she was feeling pretty chill about sticking it out at the Tilted Cactus a while longer.

But she ended up quitting two days later when the owner found out about how she impersonated an assistant manager and gave her hell for it. She could have stayed, he wasn’t really going to reprimand her. But listening to him talk down at her while her stomach filled with dread at the idea of having to apologize and walk back into that hell hole…nah. Fuck the Tilted Cactus, fuck the owner, and fuck two weeks’ notice. They weren’t getting a minute out of her ever again.

She took the gamble of taking out more student loans and was wrapping up her EMT certification. She’d be in an ambulance soon enough, actually helping people. Not the dream that got her to America, but one that would suffice for now. Make up enough karma to get her feet back under her.

“The lesbians are back,” Umida announces excitedly in a whisper as she fits herself between Mere’s legs against the bar.

“Which lesbians?”

“THEE lesbians,” Umida returns, pointing out the window.

“Those are two guys, babe. Three if you count the kid.”

“They’re lesbians,” Umida insists, waving her hand to dismiss the kid from her labels. “They have strong lesbian energy.”

“You’re claiming them for your people?” Mere grins fondly. It’s the start of Pride again and Umida’s Ally pin has been traded in for a lesbian-flag coloured hijab secured with the updated BIPOC Pride flag pin. She’s very pretty in pink, right down to the lipstick Mere isn’t allowed to kiss off of her until her shift is up.

“I am, they’re mine. I claim them.”

“Wait,” Mere squints, trying to pin down the familiar feeling she’s getting, “are those…”

“The guys! Eddie and Buck. I told you they were semi-regulars now. And we were right, that’s totally their kid. I don’t know how, especially since we know they weren’t together before that night, but he’s their kid. My money’s on one of them being trans because he’s literally their spitting image combined.”

Mere sighs happily and hugs Umida to her. “Well, I’m glad some good came out of that night.”

“Umida?” a young voice asks from across the bar. In the year since the reopening, a slew of new hires have joined the ranks to replace all the veterans leaving and Mere barely recognizes anyone anymore. She saw Mikael (unsurprisingly single again) a couple of weeks ago but he’s clearly on his way out too. Tomas lasted until his probation was over before quitting. Umida, in no small part because she was the longest lasting employee, was rightfully promoted to the role of assistant manager. Mere still hopes she’ll leave this hell hole soon but in the meantime, at least she’s getting paid. And authority looks really good on her.

“What up, Jerome?”

Jerome pushes his dark blue fringe back and holds up a sheet of paper. “I have a note here to deliver a ring to a table with dessert but it doesn’t say who’s supposed to get it.”

“Oh my god, no, no way,” Mere laughs and tries to push Umida away. “Let me out of here.”

Umida’s arms close around her hips, preventing her escape.

“Calm down. I created a form so that night doesn’t happen again. Jerome, did you use the form?”

“Um, yeah.” He shakes the sheet of paper in his hands. “I mean whoever took the call did. They checked off the table number, and it’s a ‘fiancé’ not a ‘fiancée’, but it’s a table with two guys so…”

“Okay, but there’s a field for the name, did they fill it out?”

“How am I supposed to know who they are from a name though?”

“Oh my god, kid, you schmooze,” Umida says. “You roll up to their table, you lay on the customer service thick and introduce yourself and ask their names. People are idiots, they’ll tell you, just like that.”

Jerome cocks his head in contemplation. “Yeah okay, but no, there’s no name. It’s blank.”

“But you made a form,” Mere mock whispers.

Umida turns on her, her eyeshadow catching the bar lights as she narrows her eyes. “This is not the form’s fault, don’t you blame this on the form! The form has a field for a name! The form provides!”

“The form is flawless,” Mere agrees quickly, running her hand down Umida’s arm soothingly. “You can’t account for user error.”

Umida glares harder before looking up to the ceiling in supplication.

Mere, who has never in her life been able to resist picking at a scab, asks, “what table is it?”

Jerome checks the paper. “34.”

“The cursed table. The cursed lesbians!” Mere gasps, squirming out of the way when Umida tries to pinch her side.

“Well it’s not like the kid is a contender, so it’s 50/50,” Umida points out. “Much better odds than last time.”

“And to be fair, if the wrong guy gets the flute, he can just improvise and propose with the ring in hand,” Mere continues. “Overall, much less exciting drama than last time. 3/10 for me.”

“Thank god. Yeah, let’s do that.” Jerome walks away with his marching orders and Umida turns to Mere. “I have to actually go work. You gonna hang out here?” She’s off in a half hour and they have tickets to the back row of the latest Marvel nonsense.

“I got booze, olives, and an unobstructed view of my favourite drama. I’m all set.” In lieu of a proper kiss, Mere lifts Umida’s hand and kisses her wrist, delighting in watching her girlfriend’s eyes soften. She blows Mere a kiss and flits away to put out fires.

Mere is usually on her phone while she waits for Umida but tonight she watches table 34. The guys — Eddie and Buck, Umida reminded her — are across the table from each other, Eddie is relaxed in his chair but Buck is leaning forward, elbows on the table as he tells their son a story that has him cackling in his seat. They’re not holding hands, but anyone looking can see they’re together. They have ridiculous heart eyes for each other, and from her vantage point she can see those long legs intermingling again, one knee occasionally jostling into the other. Little tangible reminders that they’re there and together.

She saw hints of this that night, and to see it have taken hold and blossomed...suddenly she’s really invested in them having a great night. One of them planned this night out, wanted to surprise the other, and she doesn’t want that going to waste because of a blank field on a form.

Mere’s wearing a dark long-sleeve blouse, not too far off the dress code, so slips off the counter, snags the backup apron they always leave behind the bar and ties it around her waist. One of the newbies whose name she doesn’t know watches her from the host pedestal and Mere raises a fierce eyebrow at them until they go back to minding their own business.

She rinses out a jug and fills it with water and ice and slips back into her customer service posture to make the rounds of the tables in section 10.

“Well now, I recognize you handsome folk, don’t I?” she schmoozes when she gets to table 34, picking up Eddie’s glass first to fill.

Eddie doesn’t place her and she doesn’t blame him, he was under a lot of stress that night. It takes Buck a second but he gets it.

“Oh hey, yeah! Weren’t you — “ Buck cuts himself off awkwardly and casts an eye to Eddie and the kid. “You, ah, gave us our meals for free! Because of the, um, mix-up.”

That’s enough for Eddie to place her, and where Buck relaxes back into his chair as she fills his glass, Eddie goes stock still.

Bingo.

“What mix-up?” the kid asks.

“Ah, they put something in our drink by accident,” Buck lies without lying. “Real choking hazard! So they gave us our meals for free.”

“That’s dangerous,” the kid says.

“It was dangerous,” Mere agrees, filling his glass. “Choking hazard was right. Could have turned a really great night all wrong with a trip to the hospital.”

Eddie’s brow furrows slightly and Mere struggles to keep a neutral face.

“It’s never a good idea to hide things in food. I don’t know why people keep trying instead of just calling us for advice. We have tons of ways to help people with surprises.”

“I completely agree,” Buck says. “We’re actually firefighters and you wouldn’t believe how many accidental choking calls we get.”

Eddie swallows, his eyes looking mildly panicked.

“Firefighters!” Mere schmoozes harder, smiling at the kid as he gets excited again. “Well I certainly feel safer then.”

“Ah, you probably shouldn’t. I was actually one of those calls once,” Buck says halfway through a smile and grimace, pointing to his throat where there’s a faint scar. “Emergency tracheotomy on the floor of a restaurant. But that wasn’t a surprise, just, ah, too enthusiastic about the breadsticks.”

Eddie’s looking decidedly gray now, eyes laser focused on the scar.

“Okay, well I’ll just go ahead and clear these,” Mere says, jokingly reaching for the bread basket until Buck laughs back.

“I’m better now, promise! Small bites, chewed thoroughly!”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she dithers dramatically, nodding to the kid. “If I leave those here, can I trust you to keep an eye on your dad?”

“Yeah!” the kid agrees with a toothy grin.

Buck’s cheeks redden quickly but he’s still smiling, his head ducked shyly in a way Mere doubts is due to her teasing. Eddie, meanwhile, is still looking poleaxed though fondness is fighting its way back in.

“Well, I was just subbing into this section so this will be goodbye for us but it was great to see you guys! Enjoy your evening!”

“Thanks, you too!” Buck says with an easy smile. Eddie manages a “thank you” and Mere has to restrain herself from patting his shoulder as she walks away.

She’s only just returned the apron to the bar when she sees Eddie walk in and head straight for the host before being led to the back.

“Ready to go?” Umida asks, back in her unsensible heels and cross-chest messenger bag.

Mere takes the hand she extends but tugs her closer instead of following her out, before saying the worst thing she’s ever said in her life, “Actually, do you mind if we stick around a little longer?”

“Something good about to happen?” she asks, peeking out the window.

Mere tugs her in closer and leans her chin on her shoulder. “I think so.”

Twenty minutes later, when Jerome passes by with a tray of assorted chocolate treats and two overturned coffee cups, Mere and Umida find themselves bracketed by half the front and back staff. Gossip still spreads like wildfire it seems.

Buck’s overturned coffee cup and plate is the last thing Jerome puts on the table, and as soon as it’s down, he excuses himself. He keeps a professional pace until he’s past the exterior doors and then he’s racing to take a front seat at the bar.

Eddie turns over his cup but doesn’t reach for the carafe, he wipes his hands on his jeans instead.

“Oh my god, he’s so nervous,” Jerome whispers.

“The kid is so in on it,” the host whose name Mere never caught says, and they’re right. Where Eddie’s tensed up, the kid is bouncing in his seat like he knows something’s coming.

“Come on, guy,” a bus boy mutters, checking his watch. His break is almost over.

Mere’s heart is beating hard in sympathy with Eddie’s as they all watch Buck ignore his coffee cup in favor of serving their kid from the tray. Then he signals to Eddie’s plate, who can’t not lift it for the offered chocolate tortes. Finally, there’s chocolate on everyone’s plates and Buck sits back to try a piece of brownie and Eddie can’t take it anymore.

He motions to the carafe and Buck perks up, finally reaching for his cup. But just as his fingers close around it, some idiot’s dog barks on the sideway, calling his attention away. His fingers flip the cup without ever looking at it, or the plate underneath it.

“Oh come on,” Umida moans.

The dog passes with its dumbass owner and Buck puts his cup back down, or tries to, but finds something in the way. He tries again, pushing the intrusion away with the bottom of the cup.

“Oh my god,” is whined in Mere’s left ear and when she turns her head she’s surprised to find not another Tilted Cactus employee but a customer dressed to the nines, pearls and all.

“Ma’am, did you —”

“Shh,” the woman returns, her eyes never moving from the window. Mere turns back too.

Finally, Buck has managed to push the offending items off the plate and settle his cup down and it’s a nail-biting few seconds where it actually looks like he’s going to reach for the carafe and go about his business.

But like a true wingman, the little kid points directly at it, prompting Buck to push the napkin aside and pick up — the ring.

Buck freezes, holding the ring between his thumb and index. His cheeks flush and a smile begins to break over his face before he looks startled and the smile falls abruptly away.

It’s about this time Eddie realizes that proposing by recreating the night they got together was never going to be the best idea when the impetus to their relationship was an engagement ring accidentally sent to the wrong person.

Eddie vaults out of his seat and into the empty one next to Buck, wrapping his hand around the one holding the ring, and bringing his other hand to his cheek to gently turn his head until Buck is looking at him. They can’t tell what he says, but they can watch Buck’s eyes fill with tears, watch as Eddie gestures to their son who’s smiling wide and reaching out for a hand, which Buck instantly provides. His attention comes back to Eddie then, who’s saying something that gets them both looking a little fragile and it’s hard to say if he actually popped the question yet but Buck is surging forward to kiss him hard and fast. Eddie gives as good as he’s getting for a moment before he slows them with small, gentle kisses. And when they finally break apart, Eddie plucks the ring from Buck’s fingers and slides it onto his ring finger as Buck watches, his eyes wide and half incredulous.

Outside, the nearby tables break out into applause, startling the trio and reminding the two men that they are indeed out in public. Eddie acknowledges the applause with an embarrassed hand and waits until they have a modicum of privacy again before taking Buck’s hand and kissing right near the where the ring now sits. He then reluctantly shuffles back into his seat.

Inside, Mere is hugging Umida to her with a strength buoyed by love. Around them, the staff are starting to disperse, some wiping their eyes, some with goofy grins on their faces.

“Young man,” the lady in the pearls says to Jerome, holding out her credit card, “I want you to charge that family’s meal to my card.”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s very generous of you.”

The woman sniffs delicately and leaves without another word. Hopefully Jerome knows where she was sitting…

“I’m glad she did that,” Mere says into Umida’s shoulder, “I was going to, otherwise, and I’m a broke-ass student.”

“I would have pitched in,” Umida says, her voice soft and pensive. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Mere agrees, sliding off the bar counter for the last time. “Oh, hold on.”

She gets closer to the window and turns the flash off of her camera before taking a pic.

“I think that’s bordering on creepy now,” Umida says without judgement.

“It’s not for me.” Mere sends the pic off with a note and three ring emojis.

They don’t make it out of the restaurant before her phone dings.

“What does Tomas have to say?” Umida asks with a smirk.

Mere pulls up the text and reads, “Gays and lesbians. Both, at the same time. Never doubting Umida’s gaydar again.”

Umida laughs victoriously, which shouldn’t be as sexy as it is, and Mere lets her drag her by the hand down the street, letting the nostalgia from tonight settle in her chest.

If there’s anything she misses from working the restaurant scene, it’s getting this glimpse into people’s lives.

Yeah, most of the work was gross, obnoxious, or mind-numbing. But every now and again, she got to be a part of strangers’ stories. Got to be there for the happiest days like graduations, or bridal showers. And even the sadder stories could be beautiful sometimes, like when she got to be extra kind to the elderly woman coming into the restaurant alone for the first time in ten years, or watch a family have their last supper together before their kid moves away for school. It’s just all so human and some kind of wonderful.

She hopes her career as a paramedic will have just a little bit of that kind of magic.

[caleiiiii]

mcyt subway au pt 4 - ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

check out the master post here !

halloween

phil lets everyone dress up for the halloween weekend as long as they wear the nametag and hat

tubbo dresses up as a bee (it matches the pin on his visor :D)

tommy tries to “dress up” as schlatt, but gets denied as soon as he walks in the door

wilbur, the shift lead, decides that tommy can just. wear a sheet over his head with the eyes cut out

he has to wear the hat and nametag on the sheet tho

wilbur, quackity, and fundy decide it would be hilarious to all wear their uniforms backwards

hats, shirts, aprons, pants, it’s all backwards

wilbur asks fundy if hes gonna wear his fursuit (this is before the philza smackdown)

fundy is Not Pleased 

the dream team + karl dress up as hogwarts students

instantly the favorites from all the kids who come into the store

technoblade dresses up as a vampire 

isnt allowed to ring people up because of the fake fangs

eret dresses up as a king, also attempts to wear those like 5 inch platform heels

the reason he cant is because he kept hitting his head on things

niki dresses up as wednesday addams

phil told her she wasnt allowed to keep the crossbow on her :(

schlatt just shows up in his everyday clothes

when quackity asks who hes dressed up as schlatt just responds

“God”

no one else asks any questions

the proofer incident

one time tubbo was sick and couldn’t work his shift

everyone else was busy so phil let tommy and wilbur work it alone

since tubbo always bakes the bread, tommy had to do it

(for context, you have to proof bread before you bake it so it rises)

so tommy placed all the dough in the proofer to proof

but he didnt set the timer right

cut to a few hours later

the two are just finishing up a big rush when wilbur looks into the proofer

“tommy, you do know how to set the timer on the proofer, right?”

“what timer?”

tommy looks into the proofer

its just

dough

so much dough

(when you overproof dough it gets really big)

wilbur starts CACKLING 

tommy just. stares

they run out of bread that evening

languages

tubbo asks niki to teach him german one night

niki decides to hang up a bunch of sticky notes on items around with the store with the german word for it

fundy and quackity begin to do the same for dutch and spanish respectively

phil tells them as long as its in the back room he doesnt mind

speedrunning sandwiches

dream is hella good at making sandwiches

prides himself on being pretty damn good at his job

one day he hears rumors about a worker from another subway store who is super fast at making sandwiches

dream, curious, asks what location and decides to pay a visit to this newfound competitor

when he gets there, he meets illumina

the guy is just so fast at making sandwiches

dreams internal monolouge: “oh, this is my new rival”

as illumina is making his sandwich hes just like. mentally taking notes

he starts going to the other subway like about 3-4 days a week

everytime he asks for illumina to make his sandwich

every single time

time skip to two ish weeks later or smth

dream has made way too many google docs and spreadsheets over this

once he was editing it on the company computer and sapnap caught him and just stared in horror

he goes into the subway to order another sandwich and asks for illumina again

as dream is paying illumina kinda asks

“hey, so uh, is there a reason that you come in here like every day and always request that i make your sandwich?”

dream just. Freezes

its a weird conversation

the kitten incident(s) -an expansion on an idea by @trademarked-but-not-really !

schlatt, despite the façade he puts up, is a big softie

one time he finds a tiny kitten on his way to work

in a split second decision he just. brings the kitten to work

places the cat in his cubby behind his sweatshirt

during his lunch break he goes to the back room to play with the kitten

quackity catches schlatt holding the kitten and baby-talking it

“who’s a good kitty? you are! you-”

“uh, schlatt, what are you doing?”

quackity gets so much blackmail

“if you tell anyone about this you’re dead.”

quackity uses his blackmail to get out of so much stuff

after that incident, schlatt gets better at hiding the kittens

there are still some slip ups tho

phil: “is that cat hair on the floor?”

schlatt, hiding a kitten in his apron: “no... hopefully”

after his shift he always brings the kittens to the local animal shelter

he also volunteers there during his free time

one time niki comes in to adopt a cat and walks in only to see schlatt holding 3 small kittens

one in each hand, and another climbing up his shoulder

they just -stare- at eachother

needless to say, another person gains blackmail on schlatt that day

trade-offs

tommy, tubbo, and wilbur haggle and trade doing certain tasks

mainly sweeping the store and stocking the chips display

these trades get VERY intense

“i’ll start on freezer pulls if you sweep and mop” “only if you do prep work tomorrow” “deal!”

“i’ll let you bake bread and cookies if you also stock the chip display” “ugh, fine”

one day phil comes in to do inventory just to see the three boys standing by the task list screaming at each other

luckily only bad and skeppy were in the shop

schlatt and wilbur origins

when schlatt  first started working at subway, he always got paired with wilbur on shifts

(this is before tommy and tubbo started working at subway)

they got along like a house on fire

they always made up bets to complete while they worked

on their first shift alone they decided to play a hellish rendition of “the floor is lava”

whoever lost had to buy the others meals for a month

skeppy and bad agreed to be the referees for the day

they took extra chairs from the back and placed them around the shop so they could get around without touching the floor

they even put chairs behind the bain (the area behind the counter)

after they set everything up, the game began

from then on, they spent the whole day perched on chairs

customers were

very confused

to say the least

many tasks were done poorly or not at all in an attempt to win the bet

the two survive until the end of the day with no major failures

in a last ditch attempt to win, schlatt made a dramatic final speech and pushed wilbur from the chair he was standing on

skeppy recorded the whole speech

unfortunately, wilbur hit the floor just as phil arrived

the manager in question was PISSED

wilbur and schlatt were banned from working together in the future

feel free to send my asks about this au!! also, if you write/draw anything for this au, please tag me!!! i’d love it see it :D

tag list :)

@i-am-a-wizard @eva-ticket @oakskull @thesmpisonfire @trademarked-but-not-really @orange-is-salty-tm @pixelatedrose @hollow-hypocrite @astrono @nootella23 @hot-dumbass @jen-dot-net @karlljacobs @gearstorm @nico-nat @marvel-snowbaz

[chocoluckchipz]

Not a Spying, Not a Fake Date

The day Marinette met Adrien Agreste—the hottest supermodel alive, an only son of fashion icon Gabriel Agreste, and her long-time, embarrassing celebrity crush—was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. Instead, not only did she present herself as a total klutz, but his friend Nino had stolen Alya only two weeks later.

On a Saturday afternoon, no less!

Don’t get her wrong. Marinette was happy that Alya finally was interested in a guy more than the latest scoop. And she absolutely didn't mind skipping one of their weekly get-togethers in favour of her BFF going on a coffee date with their new classmate. Marinette wouldn’t be bored. She could work on one of her projects or play video games… if the day wouldn't be so perfectly gorgeous and sunny. Wasting it inside would’ve been a crime. A walk around a local farmer’s market, on the other hand, sounded just about right. And if said market happened to be across the street from where her friend was meeting Nino, that was a pure coincidence.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Marinette was absolutely not spying on anyone, and if she glanced the couples’ way once or twice, it was only to appease her morbid curiosity. No harm done. She wasn’t interfering. She couldn’t even hear what the two of them were talking about. Surely not about Adrien. Or her. Or her and Adrien. Nope. No way. Impossible. She wasn’t curious at all.

“You know you aren’t very subtle?”

Marinette froze, her blood running cold. She knew that voice. It was ingrained in her memory by now. But there was no way Adrien Agreste was standing right behind her, whispering in her ear. It must be nothing but a product of her imagination. Yes! A hallucination of a post-pubescent girl with a crush of irrational proportions.

Still, she spun around just to check if it was time to make an appointment with a therapi—  

Her jaw hit the floor, eyes widening. The man in front of her sounded like Adrien, yet he barely looked the part. Most of his hair was hidden under a beanie, a pair of glasses framed his face. Baggy, black clothes covered his body. His chiselled jaw sported a light stubble, and a hippy backpack was slung over his shoulders. Not a shred of his classy self left, replaced by a sexy, casual chic version of the man.

“Adrien?”

He winked. “Looking beautiful as always, Princess.”

Her cheeks flamed despite her knowing better. He’d given her that nickname only because she was a clumsy mess, not because he was trying to flirt. Princess, aka "damsel in distress", someone in need of being saved. In her case, frequently being caught before she hit the ground as she kept tripping around him. Stupid Agreste and his stupidly handsome face.

A movement in the cafe caught her eye, and Marinette nervously grinned. Adrien was Nino’s best friend. There was no way he wouldn't know where Nino was taking Alya for their first date, which meant Marinette better be very careful in her words and actions, or else she wouldn’t be the damsel for much longer. The title of a “Creepy Stalker” didn't sound the bit least appealing to her.

“You look nice too,” she said, looking her best innocent self. “Different. I barely recognized you. I like the glasses. And stubble. Stubble is nice. Little of it. Not too much. Too much would look shabby. But yours looks good. Perfect. Not shabby at all.”

He chuckled, a corner of his lips curling into a smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should. It was one. A compliment.”

“Why, thank you.”

Another couple left the cafe, catching both of their attention. Marinette quickly shifted her gaze to the apples at the stall she was standing by. As long as she acted natural, Adrien wouldn't suspect a thing.

“So, what are you doing here today?”

She inwardly groaned and stashed a few apples in a paper bag. “Apples. I’m here for the apples.”

“What a coincidence.” Adrien picked one of the red ones and twirled it in his hand. “I’m here for the apples too. By the way… Nino just asked for the bill, so if you were planning to do more shopping in other places, I’d say that’s our cue to pay for these and get ready to leave.”

Marinette glared his way, her whole face burning up. That cocky smile, that glint in his eyes. Of course, he’d catch her. But she wouldn’t give up so easily or she wasn’t Marinette Dupain-Cheng: her papa’s pumpkin, her mother’s sweetheart, the future of Paris’ fashion! “I’m not spying on anyone if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I wouldn't dare to accuse you of such a thing.” He grinned, putting the apple back. “But… may I suggest a few tweaks to your disguise? You know, in case you’re still up for some non-spying activities today.”

“I don’t need any tweaks. I’ve been here for an hour, and they haven’t noticed me. I could tail them all day if I wanted to, and they would not notice me.”

She froze, the last of her hopes to escape this unscathed vanishing right before her eyes. Curse this man! It was his fault her brain was shutting down around him.

The corner of Adrien’s lips curled in a smile as he leaned closer. “You might be well hidden amongst the rainbow of produce here, but, believe me, as soon as you step outside, that bright red hoodie of yours will give you away instantly.”

“In your dreams,” Marinette huffed, folding her arms over her chest. “This hoodie is the only thing in my closet Alya hasn't seen yet. My sunglasses cover half of my face, and I let my hair down instead of my usual ponytails. They would never recognize me.”

“Well, I did, didn’t I?”

“That’s because you came close. They are at a distance.”

“Nino will notice someone trailing them in a bright red hoodie. Believe me, that man lets no detail escape him. But give me five minutes, and your own parents won’t recognize you even up close.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “What for? The date is over.”

“Far from it. Nino planned coffee, a walk around the city, and a movie. He bought the tickets this morning.”

Adrien seemed to be confident in what he was saying, but Marinette couldn’t trust someone she’d recently met over her best friend, even if she was in love with him. “I don’t believe you.”

“There is only one way to find out if I’m lying.” He stretched his hand towards her. “Shall we?”

Shall they what? Why was he even here? She had to get out of the house for physical rest and mental health. What was his excuse?

“And what are you doing here, M Agreste?”

“I told you already.” The corners of his lips curled up in a sly grin. “Apples.”

“Right. And you went all out on a disguise for that?”

“Precisely.” He grinned wider. “I also knew Nino was having a date nearby, and being the great friend I am, I didn’t want them to see me and think I’m spying on them.”

She wanted to smack that shit-eating grin off his face. But Nino and Alya were exiting the cafe, and Adrien tilted his head to the side, his hand still outstretched toward her. “So? Want to not spy on them some more, or do you have other plans for the day?”

No, she didn’t, and perhaps she should be smarter, but something inside her was melting by the second, Adrien’s smile slowly massacring any scraps of reason she still had. “If you tell anyone, I’ll deny every word.”

“No one shall ever know.” He grinned. “Now, may I suggest a few tweaks to your disguise? To minimize our chances of being discovered.”

“Fine, but be quick. They are walking away.”

Adrien nodded and pointed to her hoodie. “Take this off.”

There was no time for questions, so she silently obeyed. The moment Marinette removed the garment, Adrien was already pulling his black sweater over her head.

“Wait! What are you—“

“Black is less conspicuous.”

“But what about you? It’s chilly, and your shirt doesn’t look very warm.”

“I’ll be fine. I wore that sweater for fashion, not because I was cold.” Stuffing her hoodie in his backpack, he looked her over once more. His face suddenly brightened. He grabbed her hand and pulled her out to the street in the direction of the nearest convenience store.

“We don’t have time for this,” Marinette protested as they neared the door of said establishment. “We’ve already lost them.”

“No, we didn't. We might not see them, but I know where they are.”

“I know that, too,” she grumbled. “In Paris. Where else? Europe, Eurasia. Planet Earth, Solar system. Hard to miss if you fly toward the Sun. ”

Adrien laughed. Long and heartfelt, the sound of his laughter brightened the space around them. There was still a glint of joy in his eye and a hint of mischief in his voice when he recomposed himself. “Nino spent hours planning their route yesterday, and yours truly was helping him. I know where they are headed. We’ll catch up.”

Hesitantly relenting, she followed him in the store, and once inside, Adrien disappeared somewhere between the rows. When he walked out, he was carrying a hairbrush, a couple of pins and hair ties, a small mirror, a plastic tablecloth, and a can of temporary hair dye. Quickly paid for, Adrien pulled her into the nearby alley. "Do you trust me enough for a blind makeover?"

A loaded question. She hardly knew anything about the man behind the carefully crafted image of his public persona. But Marinette loved surprises, and it wasn’t like Adrien even had anything that could potentially cause serious damage to her appearance in his hands.

“You aren’t going to cut my hair, are you?”

“Wouldn’t dare to even think about it.”

“Strangle me with that tablecloth?”

“It’s to protect your clothes from the dye. And before you freak out, it’s a temporary one. It’ll wash out with the first shower.”

At least it was pink—her favourite colour. "Don't make me regret this, Agreste."

“I promise, you won’t.”

She sent a glare his way. “If I do, you’re dead.”

Adrien laughed and slightly bowed. “Your trust means the world to me, Princess. Now, if you’ll allow me, I shall start.”

Marinette nodded, removing the sunglasses from her face. Adrien quickly draped the plastic tablecloth around her shoulders. The moment his hands ran through her hair, her brain short-circuited. It felt like heaven. Pleasant tingles cascaded down her skin at every touch as he brushed, tied, and clipped for what felt like an eternity yet was way too short of a period before he whispered in her ear, “Close your eyes and hold your breath for me for a moment.”

That would not be a problem; Marinette wasn’t sure she was breathing for the last few minutes anyway. He was too close. She could feel the heat of his body, the warmth of his breath, and that was doing things to her she’d rather not experience in a random alley off a busy street in the middle of Paris.

Oblivious to her internal turmoil, Adrien sprayed her hair with the temporary hair dye and proudly pronounced his job finished. The plastic tablecloth off her shoulders, he pushed a small mirror in her hands. “You can open your eyes and look now.”

Her speech was gone the moment her eyes caught her reflection. Most of her bangs were pinned back in the middle, only some of the hair framing her face on either side. The rest was gathered in two cute, messy buns on top of her head that had pink highlights all over them, something the tips of her bangs sported as well. It was a look she’d never thought of doing herself, yet somehow found herself loving more with each passing moment.

“Not bad,” she said, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “Are you secretly a stylist by any chance?”

Adrien chuckled, putting her sunglasses back on her nose. “Nope. But I did grow up in a fashion tycoon’s house watching makeup artists transform people to an unrecognizable degree with simple tricks.”

“Well, you have a talent, M Agreste. I really like this.”

"Why, thank you." Adrien grinned. "I do like the outcome, too. You were always cute, but now you're straight-up adorable. Like a little mouse. An extremely lovely little mouse. ”

Marinette looked away, taking a step towards a street. He wasn’t flirting. He was just complimenting his own work. He wasn’t flirting. “As long as Alya doesn’t recognize me.”

“She won’t.” Adrien followed her. “Hey! Maybe we should hold hands and pretend to be on a date? They’ll never figure us out if we do that.”

Her eyes widened as he offered her his hand. “Are you… are you asking me on a fake date?”

“Do you want me to ask you on a fake date?”

“I’ve never liked anything fake,” she huffed. “Says a lot about one’s character.”

Adrien chuckled. “Then it’s good that all I’m asking is to hold hands. For a better disguise, of course. Not faking. Real hand-holding.”

An earnest smile on his lips, he stepped closer, silently waiting for her reply.

Marinette swallowed, her eyes falling to his outstretched hand, one that looked more and more appealing to hold by the second. How would it feel to have her palm in his? If she chickened out now, she might not get another chance to find out. “Only for the purpose of a disguise.”

"Only for that," Adrien assured, entwining their fingers together, his gaze on her soft and gentle. "Allow me to be your guide on this non-spying, not-a-fake-date mission, Princess."

His words fell on deaf ears as Marinette struggled to keep her composure. Big, strong, and very warm. Somehow safe and secure. Like a lover’s embrace. Holding Adrien’s hand was everything Marinette didn’t know she needed up until now.

He must have noticed something was amiss, cracking a dumb joke to break the awkwardness as they started their walk. Marinette tried her best not to laugh, but Adrien kept going, each joke worse than the preceding one. Ten minutes in, and she couldn't believe she ever had a crush on this… man-child. Adrien was the dorkiest dork she'd ever met. A dork who asked too many questions. So many it felt like he wanted to know everything there was to Marinette. She didn't mind. There were quite a few things she wanted to know about Adrien, as well, and what better way to ask if not as a retaliation to his inquiries?

About an hour later, they spotted Nino and Alya on a promenade by the Seine, walking hand in hand just like them. Her friend beamed, laughing so hard, Marinette could swear there were tears in Alya’s eyes. Nino looked no less happy, grinning at Alya with a satisfied look on his face. A smile found its way onto Marinette’s face. Adrien watched them mesmerized, slightly tightening his grip on her hand.

“Everything looks good,” he said, turning to her. “Their next stop should be a music shop a few blocks away, and there are a few cafes just across the street. Want to get a headstart and have an early lunch?”

Marinette nodded. She could use a drink or two right now. A nice large glass of the cold water because Adrien seemed to take their… whatever-this-was way too seriously, being all attentive and gentlemanly and extra charming, and if not for his assurance they were not on a date, Marinette would’ve surely thought otherwise. Just as she suspected, her silly crush on this man seemed to slowly be turning into something more than a simple attraction. Something different. Something deeper and more profound.

“Awesome!” Adrien grinned, turning back to the town. “I’ll buy us movie tickets once we’re there. Where do you want to sit? I prefer the middle, but I’m pretty sure Nino got the middle row seats, so that’s a bit risky. Shall we try for the back row?”

A pinch of guilt nagged at Marinette. Another glance at their friends in the distance and she stopped, slowly pulling her hand from Adrien’s grasp, mourning the loss with every inch lost. “Perhaps, we should stop here.”

He halted his steps, looking down. Seemed like she wasn't the only one feeling guilty about this. “You’re right. This wasn't a good idea.”

“They deserve more than two stalkers for friends.”

“They do. I was just too curious. This is the first time Nino’s been so crazy about someone.”

“So you decided to secretly third wheel them?”

He gave her an unimpressed look. “You don’t get to judge me. We’re in the same boat in this. Apples and all.”

Marinette couldn't hold back a snicker.

Adrien interlocked his fingers behind his head, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “I was really looking forward to that movie, though.”  

“You’ll live.”

“Will I?”

“Absolutely, you big baby. Just go watch it by yourself if you want it so much.”

“But that’s not fun.”

“Better than stalking your friend on his date.”

“Then perhaps I should get my own. A date, I mean. For the movies.”

Marinette fell silent, her chest tightening. A guy like Adrien could have any girl he wished. And while she didn't think herself to be worse than anyone else, what were the chances he’d want her when girls like Kagami Tsurugi openly confessed their love to him?

“I guess you could,” she said, pulling out her cellphone to get an Uber.

“Then will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Go to the movies with me? Lunch and movies. A date. A real one. Nothing fake about it.” He was looking straight at her, a trembling smile on his lips, a soft glint in his eyes.

She blinked once. Twice. Her ears must be deceiving her. “Me?”

He nodded. “You.”

“But… Why?”

“Because I like you.” He stepped closer. “Because ever since you fell into my arms that first day, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Excuse me, but I did not fall into your arms!” Marinette huffed. Amazing or not, she wouldn't allow him to trample her reputation like that. “I just tripped, and you happened to stand in the trajectory of my fall. Or rather, you moved into it because, if my memory isn’t failing me—and my memory never fails me—you almost ran across the room to catch me.”

Adrien laughed. “Guilty as charged, but can you blame me? You’re amazing, Marinette. You’re smart and brave and confident and so very beautiful. A guy like me could only dream of being worthy of your attention.”

“You kidding me, right? A guy like you can have any girl he wants.”

“But there is only one I need,” he purred, leaning closer. “Her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I’d be the happiest man alive if she’d give me a chance. I’m prepared to beg on my knees if that’s what it’ll take.”

Somehow, her hand was in his. He brought it to his lips and laid a lingering kiss on her knuckles. How could she say no to those eyes and that confident smoulder with a hint of childish worry behind it? The way she felt about him, she wouldn't want to say no even if her life depended on it. Marinette kept her eyes on Adrien's when she shifted her hand in his grasp, entwining their fingers together. "Only if we go to a different movie theatre. I don't want to run into Alya and have to explain things."

“Sounds good to me.”

“And we’re getting soulmate ice cream at Andre’s before that. I want to check if we’re meant to be before I commit to anything.”

Adrien laughed, pulling Marinette into a hug. “I’m pretty sure I won’t even have to bribe the man to get the result I want.”

“You’re way too confident, M Agreste, you know that, right?”

“Only when it really matters.”

“And is this one of those situations?”

His gaze soft and loving, Adrien leaned down, his lips gently brushing against the flustered skin of her cheek. “You’re at the top of my ‘Really Matters’ list, Mlle Dupain-Cheng.”

Another kiss to her nose, he lingered for a moment before whispering, “May I kiss you the way I know you want me to kiss you now? Or shall I wait until the end of our date?”

There was only one answer Marinette could give him. “Right now would be perfect.”

***

This is a reworked chapter from my upcoming "Dreams of You" story. If you're planning on reading it, don't be surprised to see part of this as one of the chapters. Hope you'll enjoy both of them!

[a-dragons-journal]

Hello again. This is the 5-part anon from earlier. I wrote a long response to your post and I think it’d be more convenient to dump the text in a pastebin than split it into asks. The link is going to expire in a few months, so I recommend copying the contents into its own post rather than posting the link: pastebin. com / 2r49iein

I had, sorry; you've just caught me in the lead-up to and midst of finals week, so I haven't been answering asks as quickly as usual, especially ones that will take a significant amount of time and energy xD (No worries about checking in, though, Tumblr does have a horrible habit of eating asks and it's good to check! And also my ADHD no-object-permanence ass will see an ask, go "I'll respond to that later," and then forget it exists sometimes with no Tumblr interference necessary, so good to check for that reason too xD)

Hello again. This is the 5-part anon from earlier. Thank you for your thoughtful answer. First off, I want to apologize to anyone who may have been hurt by my words on the topic of otherheartedness, copinglink, etc. I did not mean to in any way minimize the importance of these identities for others. Because I felt I didn’t have the "right" to claim a "full" otherkin identity, I felt like I had to settle for something that simply didn’t fit my experience, which led to my frustrated, generalized words.

With that out of the way, I’ve been giving what you said some thought. I have to admit I never really participated in otherkin communities, only watching from afar. It’s good to know that I "qualify" as otherkin, but I wonder if it’s such a good idea for me to identify that way. I have so few experiences in common with most otherkin that I would probably feel *more* alienated by calling myself that, not *less*. In my experience, forcing myself into an identifier that is technically correct but feels wrong/bad is not the way to go. At any rate, I’ll describe my feelings in more detail, just because I’m really curious to know if you’ve ever heard of anyone similar, or if this reminds you of anything. I apologize if some of it is repetitive or if it jumps from topic to topic without making much sense.

Some parts of otherkin… culture, I guess? Baffle me. For example, needing to narrow down one’s exact species or the cause/origin of one’s identification as nonhuman. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying it’s not valid; just that I don’t personally see the point? All the rules about who gets to call themself otherkin feel constraining to me, because I guess there’s not really any other term that fits, but even that one doesn’t fit that well, so I’m kinda stuck between a rock and a hard place.

So I’m more inclined to just say, yeah, I’m a bird. Do I behave like a bird? Do I have bird instincts? Not really, but I’m still a bird. Adopting an otherkin identity throws a wrench in that, making me feel like a failed nonhuman, because it’s *hard* not to feel invalid when everyone else seems completely different from you. If anything, I feel more valid doing my own thing! I didn’t come to this bird identity because I felt like I was Different somehow and needed to find an explanation for it (been there, done that with the autism, lol). Instead I came to it because it felt good, and right, and it made me happy.

You say since I don’t know if I chose this or not, it’s unlikely to be voluntary. I guess I just… feel weird about this? I don’t really have words to describe it. Maybe it boils down to "does it matter?". And I know when it comes to the term "otherkin", it *does* matter, which is kind of one of my problems with it.

I looked at that daemonism post you reblogged and found myself relating to the way Rook described Tukuxa: "She lacks a shark’s instincts, fears and drives - but her core is still shark." I wouldn’t say I *lack* these things, just that I simply don’t have them. Do I have a human mind in a human brain? Sure, but that doesn’t mean I have to be a human, nor does it make me any less of a bird. It makes me happy to conceptualize myself as a bird, to design my own appearance as a bird with qualities that can’t physically exist in this world, to daydream of flight. Is that such an uncommon experience?

I have a headmate who is a dragon. She was born as a dragon, she looks like a dragon, she simply Is A Dragon. She’s not dragonkin, she’s not based on any fictional dragon, she just… is. (Not to say that dragonkin folks aren’t dragons, just that she doesn’t identify as dragonkin.) But she doesn’t have any of the typical dragon traits you might expect; like me she has a "human mind" in a "human brain", and yet she’s just a dragon. I guess it’s sorta the same with me.

I just feel like it’s better for me to say "I’m [X]" and keep the specifics to myself. Despite these asks, I have no intention of holding my identities up to the scrutiny of others. If I say I’m a thing, I could mean it in a number of ways. Total or partial identification as/with, or even just a passing attachment. Ultimately, it’s my business, and trying to define it beyond just "I am this thing" or "I relate to this thing" or "This thing is me" feels sort of obnoxious? (For context, I do have nonhuman identities other than a bird, I just used that one as an example/shorthand.)

I guess that about covers everything. What do you think? If your followers/anyone who sees this wants to chime in, I’ll be looking at the notes. Thanks again!

(Regarding the 'hearted/'linker stuff, I figured that wasn't what you meant in your previous asks; I just wanted to bring it up because it's a conflation that gets made a lot, accidentally or on purpose.)

Honestly, these are all incredibly valid points, and if you just want to call yourself nonhuman or bird but not otherkin/therian then that's entirely up to you. If the label doesn't work for you, then it doesn't work for you! You are not obligated to use every label that you technically fit under (gods know I don't), and I didn't mean to imply so - just to make it clear that it's available to you if you do want it. I can see now that I probably kind of missed the point in that response.

And you're right that frankly, even though there is a wide range of experiences under the otherkin umbrella, there's also a set of common experiences that almost everyone seems to share at least a few of, and when you don't share those I can imagine it makes it kind of hard to connect with others in the community. Unfortunately, like I said, I don't know that there's a way around that other than trying to host a platform for those atypical experiences to speak, which is a good idea but probably not very effective in practice because of the sheer numbers game.

So you've decided you're probably better off not trying to make the "otherkin" label or community fit, and that's entirely valid - I guess the question is, what now? If you're wanting to find others with similar experiences to you, you still need somewhere to look, and it seems like this isn't it.

You might want to look into other nonhuman terms - "nonhuman" and "transspecies" come to mind, and while neither of these might fit you, they do collect different subcultures that might be less alienating for you or easier to find others with similar experiences within. The broader "alterhuman" label may also be useful, though that can be a bit like trying to find a needle in a haystack just because of how many things are included in "alterhuman" and I don't know that you'd have any better luck than with "otherkin".

Or you might want to try older platforms, if you haven't already - forums, IRCs if they still exist. The community wasn't always as focused on some of the things you noted as it is now (pinning down a specific species, voluntary vs involuntary, etc.), and platforms with a population that trends toward people who've been around longer sometimes still have more of that culture than Tumblr and Discord tend to, though they come with their own problems of course.

Ultimately, if "I'm a bird" is the easiest way to communicate your experiences, then that's that on that. These words only exist because people find them useful - if you don't find them useful, don't feel like you have to use 'em. As far as finding community when so much of the otherkin community feels alienating to you, I'm afraid that's all I've got - y'all got anything for anon?