#its normally ice cream cause i'll eat ice cream every day

[hdawg1995]

if beaver is a fish during lent molt balls are not chocolate for the same reason. -Me, giving up chocolate instead of ice cream this year.

[mjlovescm]

Swimming lessons

Author's note: Writing this helped me cope with the fact that something bad might happen to Ash Sunday. Aaliyah is Fezco's and the reader's daughter.

There were few people Ash truly trusted in this world. You, Fezco and of course Aaliyah. Then again, why wouldn't he, you were all family, a tight family. But there was one thing not even his little sister knew. Ash couldn't swim. Like at all.  It's not like it was some big shock with the way he grew up. In all honesty, it would have been more of a surprise if he could. Either way, the thought made you laugh.

Summer was by far Aaliyah's favorite for various reason. Not having to wear layers of thick clothes just so she wouldn't freeze. Being able to eat ice cream and Popsicles with of for every meal. But most importantly, Ash didn't have school. 

Her footsteps powerful as she stomps to her room. Dinner hadn't gone too well. Standing up from the table, you Fezco give each other a look before sending it to Ash. Even with his back turned, he could feel your eyes radiating into the back of his head. Telling him to apologize or at least give her some explanation. Still irritated, he ignores the guilt. 

The sudden light from the kitchen causes Ash to shield his eyes. He'd been glued to the computer since dinner. Getting up Ash decides to get himself a bowl of cereal, entering the kitchen it seemed Aaliyah had the same idea. She didn't ask him to, but on instinct, he makes them both a bowl and sets it on the table. She doesn't say anything to him, letting her slow chews and slurping speak for her. 

“You still mad?”

“What do you think.” She says, tone cold.

“We can just go to other places when summer starts.”

Being a child, she doesn't give in. 

“I wanna go to the pool.” 

“Fine, then you can just with them.” He says, referring to you and Fezco. 

“I wanna go with you.” She says frustrated before crossing her arms. “I wanna swim with you.”

“I can't swim.” He says through his teeth, trying to be quiet.

Aaliyah's face quickly turns sour, not believing him. But Ash's expression seemed to be honest on top of that Ash didn't lie to Aaliyah, he pinky promised he wouldn't. 

“You being fr?” She says skeptical.

“For real.” 

“Daddy never taught you ?”

He paused, unsure how to respond. He couldn't exactly tell her, her dad was too busy dealing drugs to take trips to the local pool. So he simply shakes his head no. 

“We can learn together, mama knows how. She can teach us.” 

He dismisses the idea immediately, remembering how you joked earlier. Saying he wouldst go to the pool because he would have to stay in the sallow end. 

“Well, you still need to learn, lots of short people know how to swim.”  She says with a hidden smile. 

He gives her an unamused look, which draws out a small smile from her. 

… 

Its another normal morning in your home. Breakfast is being made while the kids get ready for their days. Aaliyah greets everyone, giving them hugs and kisses before take a seat next to ash. 

Peaking her head into the kitchen, she's quick to pull her papers out. Ash watches in confusion as Aaliyah unfolds her multicolor construction paper before sliding them to him. 

“What's this?” Ash whispers. 

“My plan.” She whispers back. 

“Plan to what.” 

Not want to say too much, she points her small finger to the title on her paper, which was written in pink. 

How to swim without Daddy and Mommy knowing you can't. 

Seeing the title alone, Ash immediately put off. Not reading it, he slides the paper back to her.

“You can at least try.” She whines.

He stays silent, the answer was no.

“Fine.” She says, sitting back into her chair.

A frown resides on Aaliyah's face for the rest of the morning. She sits silently in the passenger side as Fezco drives Ash to school. She doesn't say I'll miss you or have a nice day. She doesn't even give him a hug goodbye.

Although he doesn't anything. The truth is, it weighs heavy on Ash's conscious for the rest of the day.  He knew Aaliyah could hold a mean grudge, and being on her bad side was something he definitely didn't want. 

After school, Ash expects to see his little sister in the car, but to his surprise, she stayed home.

When he comes home, the first thing Ash does is pull his little sister into a big hug. She stays stiff, not wanting his affection.

He apologized and agrees to learning behind you and Fezcos back. It takes a day or two before he's fully forgiven, but after that she begins to unfold her plan.

It was fairly simple. Instead of going to his regular gym, Ash would instead go to one with a pool. There he would practice in peace. Aaliyah occasionally following along to encourage him from the sidelines. 

And after weeks of practicing, the day finally came.  A smile is wide on  her face as her and Ash get into the water. He's hesitant at first, not sure if he ready. 

But the smile on his little sister's face is all the confidence he needs.  

My full masterlist

[desertofsnowflakes]

Incorrect Order Chapter 4 (Nessian AU)

A/N: I know I haven't been able to update as fast as you'd want me to but I'll try to fix that. Your comments and feedbacks are very much appreciated. Do inform me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist! If you happen to find my storyline similar to another fic or one of yours, I'm extremely sorry, I might've just not known. All characters belong to the author Sarah J. Mass. Enjoy!

Summary: Don't first impressions always affect the way you see someone? Well, what more with the Nesta Archeron? Nesta meets Cassian at few unexpected places and to say it didn't go well was a major understatement. Certain circumstances make them become enemies to tolerable company to friends to lovers.

Trigger Warnings: None really

1652words | Incorrect Order Masterlist | Read on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The best way to keep whatever problems one has out of their mind was to do something they liked. That was the only way Cassian kept from spiraling. Since sending the woman to her own house, Cassian had more than a few moments when he wanted to repeatedly slam his head against a wall. That’s why he spent most of his time sparring with Azriel. He won’t admit he was simping for that woman in his free time too. Or maybe that was always.

Now, sprawled on a couch in front of the TV, with nothing to do but stare at a blank screen, Cassian led his thoughts to the box he kept all unwanted thoughts locked in. He thought about Tomas, her ex-boyfriend. Funny, he thought. I know her ex's name but not hers.

It took him a little too long the other day to realise they didn't exchange names. Again. He once thought that maybe she was purposely not giving him her name. That maybe, for her, he was just a random stranger who happened to save her life. He snorted. Surely anyone would know the name of the person they saved or was saved by— stranger or not. He supposed he'll have to make do with pronouns for now.

After she left his home, it took every scrap of self-restraint not to beat this Tomas dude to pulp and let him rot in the same alley he had the misfortune of meeting him in. He may or may not have been the cause for some extra injuries. Cassian appreciated the woman’s attempt at mercy. He, however, didn’t trust Tomas at all. He was dubious about just handing him over to the police. Who’s to know he won’t frame him and the woman for absurd things? Anyway, he left a note in Tomas’s house saying something like “Step out of line, lose your favourite part of anatomy. Name it and have it for your meal.” He made sure he printed so that no one would recognise his writing. Yet, all this didn’t calm his nerves one bit. He presumed he’ll have to stay on guard for some time now.

Now, back to the girl. He sighed. He didn’t dare change the sheets in his guest bedroom. He didn’t even let Mor use the room when she came over last weekend— which he could bet created suspicion. No, that room was only open when he craved her scent. He even realised one of his shirts was missing. He shrugged it off thinking he would've left it somewhere and just couldn't find it. Once she came to his house, he was constantly thinking about her. So much that now he started pinching himself often. It was the only way he could stop thinking about her— by creating physical pain.

Cassian glanced at the clock on the wall. 2.30 in the afternoon. He walked to the refrigerator and checked his freezer compartment. Huh. No ice-cream. He sighed, grabbed his jacket and keys and headed to the mall to get an ice-cream with a pout. He’ll have to leave for Rhys and Feyre’s first anniversary only around 5.30 to prepare everything. He has enough time to get an ice-cream and probably hang out for some time. Good enough to stop thinking about her. Or so he thought.

***

Nesta wasn’t sore anymore. Her headache was gone almost a week after the incident. Her nose didn’t hurt anymore. Okay, maybe a little bit. It didn’t hurt unless she bumped her nose against something. Today, her nose was dully throbbing because she hit her nose against a pillow yesterday. A very, very soft pillow and yet it hurt this much.

The man’s first-aid and medicines were really helpful.

It really wasn’t fair that he excelled at basic first aid too. It wasn’t fair that he looked so good. With black tattoos swirling over generously muscled arms and shoulder-length dark hair curling at the edges and gloriously tanned skin and hazel eyes with minute flecks of green and brown when taken a closer look at and dimples and—

A quiet “Who is it?” snapped Nesta out of her moping. She looked up to see Gwyn walking to her.

“Who is what?” she asked, feigning nonchalance. Gwyn's pursed lips and glare conveyed that her act wasn't enough.

“Who are you thinking about?” Gwyn clarified.

“What makes you think I'm thinking about someone?” Nesta retorted.

Gwyn sat on the chair next to her and started assisting with classifying the unceremonious heap of books on the table to be kept back in its correct positions on its own rack.

“Nesta,” Gwyn sighed, “Clotho assigned you this stack almost an hour ago. And you've barely finished a third of the stack. Normally, you'd finish stacks bigger than this in an hour. So there's clearly something.”

“It wasn't anyone,” Nesta mumbled.

As usual, Gwyn saw through her lie. “You were twirling your hair,” she said flatly.

Heat inched up her neck. “I was not!”

Gwyn murmured a “uh-huh” and they lapsed into an easy silence till they were almost over.

Gwyn's eyes lit up as it normally did whenever she got an idea. “Is it him? The guy you came with that day?”

Nesta scowled, “How do you know…” she broke off when she realised which 'that day' Gwyn was talking about. Nesta fought back a blush. “No, no, this isn't about him. We don't know each other. Much. Like, we've seen each other a number of times? That's it. Nothing else.” Cauldron, the first part was a complete lie. But at least the rest are true. Will Gwyn happen to know his name? Maybe I ought to ask her. Or maybe I shouldn't.

She should, she decided. She cleared her throat. “Uh, Gwyn? Do you happen to know his name?”

Gwyn frowned and asked, “He hasn't told you yet?”

Nesta shook her head and answered, “No, we, uh, forgot. I guess. We haven't really exchanged names.”

Gwyn nodded and smiled. “Well, he is—”

“Gwyn!” a voice called. “You can't expect me to come over to you and beg for you to help me. Help me only if you want to or don't work under me.”

Gwyn’s eyes widened. She abruptly stood up and mouthed, “Merrill. I gotta go. I’m so sorry.” She all but ran to Merrill, the very strict librarian Gwyn was working under.

Nesta sighed and continued her work. There wasn’t much left so she was able to finish fast. She picked her things and left the library with a word to Clotho, heading to the mall.

***

The best way to keep whatever problems one has out of their mind was to also eat something they liked. So, ice-cream it was. After having his ice-cream, Cassian was aimlessly walking around the mall. Here, not more than a month ago, he met her for the first time. Almost a month ago. He huffed out a breath. The fact that he was pining for her this long blew his mind off. He—

“This is your fault— not mine. I’m not taking the blame for this,” he told her. They bumped into each other. Again.

Her lips quirked up. “It is kind of my fault. But blame this—,” she poked his chest, “— for making my nose hurt again.”

Just like that, his mood sobered. “How are you?” he asked.

She pointed at the cafe to her left. “Coffee?”

He nodded. Who was he to say no to her?

So they ordered coffee and talked about everything and nothing. He grinned and she laughed. He laughed and she smirked. He wouldn’t say he knew her well but he’d never seen her so carefree. Her laugh was like nectar for a starving man. Her eyes bright and welling up with tears from laughing.

“I don’t think I’ve laughed this much,” she said.

Cassian put a hand on his heart dramatically and said, “I know, I know. I’m very funny.”

Her lips kicked up a notch. She straightened as if she just realised something. He was about to ask when she drawled, “So I just realised that we still haven’t exchanged names.”

Oh. Right. Of course. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Usually, when people meet, they start with introductions but in our case we’ve literally bumped into each other three times and still we don’t know each other.” He shook his head and extended his hand. “Well, hello there. I’m—”

His phone rang in his pocket. Fuck. He was going to kill whoever was calling him now. He was so close to knowing her name. He pulled out his phone to see an incoming call from Azriel. He apologetically looked up at her and said, “I’m sorry. I wish I could choose not to take this call and instead kill this idiot but I can’t. Just give me a moment, okay?”

She nodded and he picked up his call.

“What do you want?” he hissed.

“It’s 5.30 already, you idiot. We’ve got to get the things ready for the party. Mor already went to get the cake and you’re not even at home. Where on all earth and hell are you?” came Az’s faint voice.

“15 minutes only? Mother above, I’m coming.” he said.

Az’s “make it fast” was the last thing he heard before hanging up. “I wish we could stay here and talk forever,” he said to her, “but I have something up in a short while and I totally didn’t realise time was passing this fast. I’m so sorry. It was nice talking to you. Really. And I wish we could meet again. Though without the bumping part.”

He grinned when she smiled and said, “Bye. Have a nice day.”

“You too,” he called back. He didn’t want to think he imagined the subtle look of disappointment on her face because hell, he was a walking epitome of disappointment right now.

taglist:

@shadowsinger07 @im-someone-i-guess @saltyfortunes @cressjacquine @julian-blackthorn-supremacy @champanheandluxxury @zemiraa @ladygabrielli1997 @nehemikkele @heartless--aromantic @sv0430 @ddsworldofbooks @irenethaleia @sjm-things @dontgetsalmonella

[theangrypokemaniac]

Baby Vulpix are born with a solitary white tail, which reddens and splits as it grows.

Given the conversion to Ice we must forgive the lack of colour, but the ends sticking together is inexplicable.

Perhaps it's tangled with perspiration, as a furry fox embellished with fluffy pouffes is not best equipped to deal with a simmering climate.

When Fire, and thus possessed of an inner furnace, such outer decoration is easily borne, but losing his type means it's nothing but a burden for these endless summer days.

If he became Ice to cope, why not shed such bothersome apparel? What benefit is there in retaining a fur coat?

Perhaps the transformation is yet to reach fruition, and we are witnessing merely a stage midway, before it drops off.

The correct crown plumage is three tight little curls above a small fringe, but here we find a most dishevelled appearance.

It smacks of a want of propriety.

Why any creature should don a toupee of albino pubes shall remain a mystery. Clearly they are no longer of sound mind.

I blame the diabolical influence of those wicked polyps sprouting from his ears.

Polyps grow in the cavities of a cat's head like the toadstools of Satan.

If they aren't removed they bore into its brain!

Are you blind? What's that there then?

I thought Ninetales had nine tails.

A matted bush with seven straggling ends wafting in the breeze.

The lack of separation is less of a concern when one realises the billowing quality equates to having no solid form.

He's lost his bloody tail bones, man! That bastard sun butchered him!

Like Parasect, the parasitic colonisation is complete, with polyps responsible for Ninetales's degradation from vindictive lunatic to feeble-fannied pacifist.

Remember Normal Ninetales? The regal reincarnation of nine noble saints who, were he offended, delivered eternal curses upon the perpetrator?

And it wasn't just a temporary punishment? It wasn't even for your lifetime?

It doomed generation after generation of your descendants, lasting ONE THOUSAND YEARS!!!

How does Alola Ninetales compete?

He'll douse you cold water.

No! The last thing I need is a cool down!

Well, if he's annoyed, if he's really, really, thoroughly ticked off, you'll be frozen.

And instantly thaw.

He's got that skin. Or fur even.

Meowth don't brown in sunlight. He greys. What was brown bleached to white.

Last year, when Sadism and Masochism still ran, I was up to me teef in posts praising Velma's mutant pussy, because Team Rocket can do no wrong, apparently.

A creature of alien grey, with a smug, squashed mush and Betty Spaghetti limbs, carved from the rubberiest lump of Kraken ever washed up on the shores of Siberia, was treated like a treasure, a faultless jewel we are honoured to behold.

However, as the S & M sesssion finished, I discovered that approval of Alolan Meowth is an extreme minority view.

Well yer could've fooled me!

What did we learn?

A. T.A.P. is in the majority at last!

B. Tumblr gives a really skewed idea of the wider fandom.

This hot stuff's a bitch eh?

Soon as touching the innocuous cat, it dived in his back and reorganised his spinal column, bipedal abilities serving as such a fine defence against sunburn, which is why fat-headed Persian loses it again.

I hope Game Freak did remember that our Meowth is the exception, and the breed aren't meant to walk upright.

It's very sloppy record-keeping otherwise.

Forget silly notions of black felines browned by prolonged sunbathing, what really goes down is cream darkening to grey, whilst any ruby gemstones they may possess becomes royal blue, obviously.

Persian was drawn in an identical stance to the real one to assist identification. I can't say I'd know without that visual clue.

Grey and blue? Has Persian, playing by his own rules, developed hypothermia?

He's a maverick, man! Petty laws of nature are meaningless to this cool cat!

As for his unfortunate face, it has swelled to painful proportions in the sizzling environment, like a woman's lower extremities.

It shows why a certain representative of the race lashed out by beating up Litten, besides intentions to eat or mount Popplio.

His features group together under the gravitation pull of the Ultra Wormhole secreted inside his skull, caused no doubt by baleful polyps.

Yer gotta watch 'em!

Ah, and where is the ambulance service striving to cure every Persian of this double malady?

There isn't one, 'cause they don't care.

Yeah, well he'll have the last laugh. That loaf is still a-growing, and one day will explode, unleashing said cosmic damnation upon the heartless savages, atomising all before it.

Sandshrew mate, yer getting hefty.

And then they'll be sorry!

I'll have you know I'm retaining water to survive.

Retaining pies more like.

Sandshrew can't abide damp, choosing to reside in dry areas well away from any substantial precipitation.

How exactly it crossed the sea to small series of islands surrounded by more sea is a mystery, but happen it did.

A creature of such taste should head inland, far from the shore, to a dusty landscape, the sort found on Akala Island.

What did it do?

He clambered the peaks, where much moisture awaits, snow being water, and stayed until ice colonised his person.

And got ears like an igloo.

Makes total sense for a Pokémon with an aversion to anything cold and wet to rush straight for the source.

Plus, that girth suggests piling on the fat to cope with a habitat it selected.

Oh no, that's a coat of steel. Definitely not ice. It's just bluish white and shimmering, like ice.

On an Ice Pokémon. But no ice here.

Shivering in a blizzard compelled it to develop a thick metal hide? That'll be useful when Alola goes to war and needs ammunition for the cannons.

A freezing, inflexible suit of armour not only works wonders against frostbite, but Sandshrew will sweat to death should it descend to the places it used to live.

The eyes are partly on its old face, but now overlap onto the ridge, meaning his eyeballs are bent in half.

One does expect sand and sand-related features from a Sandslash, such as Ground powers.

But a pangolin's gotta avoid the Chinese somehow, and so up he went, climbing them thar hills, whereupon his spikes, previously a natural fibre, transformed into steel stalagmites, and over that came an icy epidermis.

Trap up there forever, and blind!

Roasting conditions suffice to make mischief by melting rocks, so what befalls types weak to heat?

If Sandslash goes to sea level, his back will vaporise in the first blast of said dread inferno, leaving him vulnerable, just as the wet markets like 'em.

Worse, his upper limbs are not affixed to his body. Via the flimsiest joint, they're glued to the ice thanks to its adhesive effects.

It's as one often sees when scamps, walking to school, lick a lamppost upon a winter morn.

And soon regret.

Whence comes the thaw, his arms is gonna fall off, and then what defence can be mustered against the People's Republic?

AND, given his head is also majority cone, as it breaks, his skull will crack open and his brains tip out!

No wonder they're goin' extinct!

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

September Song (2/3)

I’m sorry @kitten-wrath that this took so long, but I do hope you like it. @hoodoo12 @xerxezra thanks for brainstorming with me. Also, Ice Cream Rick belongs @porkchop-ao3. References to the flowers can be found here (The Language Of Flowers) and pizza rolls here (Sick Day)

Also, special thanks go to @her-victori for reading a majority of my fics in a short span of time. You Rock! As well to random anons who leave me sweet words in my ask box.

If you haven't read the first part of this fic then here's the link. (Read Part1 Here)

In this fic the reader tries to be more reserved and mature for Rick, but what will he think?

______

Chapter 2: These Precious Days

The mom and pop ice cream parlor which could be found at the edge of town offered over twenty flavors and twice as many topping options. Rick thought you'd prefer this quiet atmosphere over the crowd that would've surrounded Ice Cream Ricks truck in the Citadel; he was right. Though it really was a shame since Ice Cream Rick was actually pretty nice. After ordering, you two sat by the window with the best view of a lonely backroad and a white GMC truck.

“I-I-I like that you went for the rainbow jimmies.” Rick commented as he popped a mini gummy bear into his mouth.

“Hmm? Yeah, I like the texture.”

Which was true, but it wasn't the whole truth. You loved sprinkles on just about any dessert they could be placed on. They were fun, colorful, and your dad's favorite topping. They reminded you of good times. You continued. “And they're a classic. Wouldn't you agree?”

“I-I do. Would you say that y-your favorite flavor?”

Savoring the flavor of your chocolate ice cream, you nodded. “Yeah.”

Smiling softly, he seemed to be ruminating on this information, before storing it away and eating a spoonful of his pistachio ice cream. After a little while, he managed to get a bit of it on the side of his mouth, which made you giggle. And because old habits die hard, you picked up a napkin and wiped his face clean. Under your fingertips, his skin had that masculine roughness that came from constant shaving. Of course, you were familiar with it, but these slight reminders that came about by chance never failed to amaze you.

However, you were quick to pull your hand back because he wasn't a fan of public displays of affection, though it seemed to have the opposite effect, with him reaching out and placing your hand back on his cheek, and leaning into it. “I'm glad y-you were able to come with me today.”

Seeing as the shop owner was in the back room, you relaxed a little. “I am too.”

Rick was always a little funny when he got sentimental, which was why it didn't surprise you too much when his eyes bore through you as he said. “Me encanta estar c-contigo.”

“Rick,” you began, wanting to let this facade go and declare every single word of affection your heart felt inclined to say, but just as soon as you thought you were going to crack, you restrained yourself, and simply said. “your ice cream is going to melt.”

Several beats of silence passed, and he acknowledged what you had said, but he went on. “You - I-I sometimes wish I could carry you in my pocket, and have you look after me all the time, but th-that's silly isn't it? It's not realistic, and that w-would be selfish.”

“If it's you, then I don't think it is. While it wouldn't necessarily be practical to miniaturize me and carry me around, isn't the beauty of a relationship knowing that you're always on someone's mind and that they are out there somewhere caring and thinking about you?”

“Certainly, but what I-I meant to say is that it'd be nice if this was our life. If I could keep y-you and if you and me ugh - all th-the time…we - if we….” he faltered, fixing his eyes on something else in the room.

“You don't mean eating ice cream do you?”

With a sigh, he relinquished the hold he had on your hand, “N-no.” and continued to eat his ice cream; resigned, and slightly embarrassed. You couldn't help but feel a slight disappointment. It's not like he wanted to say the magic words. Right?

________

After ice cream, you two visited the bookstore on the corner of Kinder St and Lavue Ave; which had not only a coffee shop but a toy store connected to it. As soon as one entered into it, you were met with the latest best sellers, books on travel and wellness, as well as souvenirs; it was one of few places that didn't bother you if it was cramped. To your left next to the window were those mint boxes which said Adventure Awaits, and it filled you with gladness as picked one up; thinking of little things you'd put in it after all the mints were gone. For his part, Zeta-7 seemed to know exactly what he was going for, disappearing in the back where all the used books were. Not knowing whether to follow or look around, you just did as you pleased.

Past the Keychain holder, above the box of mini hands, you found a Mister Rogers mug. You loved that wholesome old man who used to teach lessons and play with puppets on PBS; Rick reminded you of him too. On the label, it said that when you added hot water to the mug, Mister Rogers would change from a suit jacket into his cardigan. Seeing as Zeta-7 hadn't returned yet, you decided to buy it and continued to look around until he soon returned with an older book in hand. “I-I-I hope I hadn't kept you waiting long.”

Facing the bookshelf, pulling out books that you were mildly interested in, you answered. “I knew you would show up eventually.”

Noticing the stack of books you had, he asked sweetly. “M-m-mi corazón, do you want me t-to hold those books for you? They look a-a little heavy.”

You weren't sure how long you could keep up this facade of being mature and not melting into a puddle everytime he said things like that, with him being as darling as he was. Nonetheless, you nodded and he lightened the burden on your arms.

“Wow,” he brightened. “I-I didn't know you liked Alexandre Dumas.” And picking out another book, he wondered. “Have y-you ever read this?”

“The Man In the Iron Mask? No,” you admitted sadly. “but when I was in high school I did read about a third of The Count of Monte Cristo. I even have a postcard that my old English teacher sent me from Europe that had a picture of one of the buildings that was used in the movie.”

“That's s-s-so cool. Do - do you enjoy classic literature?”

Wholeheartedly, you replied. “Isn't it the best kind?”

“I-I-I don't know,” he softened. “but I don't know what I'd do without them.”

You thought of his home library then, with its eclectic mixture of languages, colors, and topics, and it made you feel warm in your soul. “If your home library tells me anything, it's that you have a healthy appetite for books.”

He glanced at your lips after you said this, but made no attempt to follow whatever thought which might've come to mind. Instead, you two carried on a lengthy discussion on books, how many were a social commentary of the time period, and how they influenced the world you lived in. For once you didn't have to pretend you knew something you didn't, cause you did know. Quite intimately in fact. And within the small spaces between shelves and bodies, where you'd normally feel claustrophobic, you were safe amongst all the friends you had yet to meet amongst the pages, and with Zeta-7 whose warm words and tall body shielded you from the curious eyes of the cashier.

_______________

A stack of books sat quietly in the back seat of his car. Crickets chirped, and there were random feral cats here and there, but there was only you and him as far as you were concerned. September Song by Willie Nelson played on the car radio as he led you into a natural waltz next to the town lake, and moonlight reflected in his eyes. If you hadn't been so afraid of drowning, maybe you would've preferred to dance on the dock, but like this, it felt right.

Oh, it's a long long while

From May to December

But the days grow short

When you reach September

When the autumn weather

Turns leaves to flame

One hasn't got time

For the waiting game

With your head resting on his chest, he hummed along to the melody. More than once you heard a sniffle but assumed it was just Zeta-7 caught up in the moment again.

Oh the days dwindle down

To a precious few. ..

September, November. ..

And these few precious days

I'll spend with you.

These precious days

I'll spend with you.

You thought every day spent with him was precious, and you had to admit that you weren't sure at the beginning of your relationship if it would've worked out, but you were glad that the both of you took a chance, and had been pleasantly surprised ever since. And after all this time, now that it was the fall again, you wondered what the next year and the year after that would be like; the possibilities are endless. However, your train of thought was broken when Zeta-7 stopped dancing and stood there; covering his face, wanting to disappear.

“Rick?”

“I'm - I'm sorry, but I-I-I-I can't do this.”

“Can't do what?”

“I-I-I can't pretend that everything's o-okay. Something's th-the matter isn't it?”

“No there isn't.” you denied.

“Then why are y-y-you so quiet? Are w-we breaking up? Are you - are you leaving me?”

You literally wanted to smack yourself for being such an idiot. “No! Why would you think that?”

Using his phone, he paused the music and passed a hand through his hair in an attempt to calm himself. “Y-y-you haven't been yourself all evening. I thought for a moment that maybe th-things were alright back in the bookstore, but you - I know y-you were holding back. I know how much you love books, and writing is y-y-y-your passion, but you were hesitant in sharing your opinions on either subject. M-mi corazón,” he pleaded, the lines about his forehead and mouth deepening. “please b-be honest with me. Is this it?”

“No, it's not.”

Your plan, which you thought has been working went horribly wrong. So much for trying to act like an adult for once. Man, you only wanted to entice him, which you somewhat succeeded, but because of your stupid games, you'd led him to believe that you were unsatisfied with your relationship. If anything, you were unsatisfied with how you handled this. “Believe me Ricky, you haven't done anything wrong. In fact,” you sighed, your chest aching from the bloom of anxiety. “you've only been sweet and charming. But I….oh, I was only trying to impress you.”

“Huh? Wh-what?”

“Exactly. Whatever I thought I'd accomplish, it��..I only managed to mess it up. Again. You probably wouldn't get it,” Or maybe he would, but you weren't feeling like yourself. “but sometimes I feel like all you did was pull me out of my little bubble so I could wreak havoc. I'm not any different from hundreds of other versions of me, am I? Cause, if I'm like them, then how did I end up with you? How did I get so lucky to be with someone so wonderful? I hope they are happy because I am with you.”

With a hand pressed over his heart, a single tear made its way down his cheek. “M-me too. I'm so happy with you.”

“Somehow, despite all my inadequacies, you want me. I mean, is it stupid to believe that I just wanted to be different from all those other copies? That I just wanted you to think I was mature?”

Zeta-7 looked at you with a wistful hope in his eyes.“No, it's - it's not stupid. You - you did that f-for me?”

“Who else dear honey man of mine? Maybe it can't be helped and I'll just be what I am,” you confessed. “but for a moment I wanted to be different. So I gave myself the look and didn't overreact. And most of all, kept my mouth shut so you wouldn't get bored of my rambling. I know I talk too much.”

“N-no, that's not - have I led you t-to believe you weren't good enough?”

“Not on purpose, but I can't help but feel that way sometimes. We both know I'm not that special. I mean, the only impressive thing I've ever done is eat 37 pizza rolls, and not kill the flowers you gave me. I'm so sorry,” you cried, “I'm sorry you got stuck with an idiot.”

He pulled you in for a tight embrace, smoothing out your hair. “D-don't ever say that.” he cooed. “You're - you're clever, lovely, and always give me something t-t-to smile about.”

“Anyone can do that.”

Pulling back a little, he gave your shoulder a squeeze and softened. “N-no, not at all. Y-you give away dreams, smiles, and kindness. You're reliable, and I-I can trust you. And there is no one in the universe th-that could compare t-to you when it comes to being the perfect woman. If anything, I'm th-the defect here.”

“No, you're perfect Ricky.”

Placing a lock of hair behind your ear, he continued. “I'm glad y-you think so, but this isn't a-about me. You - you dressed up today, in a-a elegant dress that I'd n-never seen before,” and pressing a kiss behind your ear, he whispered with a little gleam of pride in his eyes.. “wearing the perfume I-I-I made you. Smelling like a-a dream.”

Again, how anyone considered this charmer a doofus you'd never know. “I had been saving it for a special occasion.”

“Everyday with you is - is special.”

“Oh Rick. That's…thank you.”

Pointing at your feet, “And I noticed that you're closer t-t-to my height today, but your feet must be hurting by now. Would y-you like to take them off?”

Oh, your feet were screaming. And now that you weren't pretending, you slipped out of your shoes which made you lose about four inches. Picking up your shoes and shoes and dusting them off, he continued. “That must feel better. I-I-I had to wear heels for a case once. It ugh - it's not practical when y-y-you have to run.”

“Right? I don't see how other women do it, cause I can't. I'm not even sure why I own them. I should just burn those things.”

You'd say it was half relief, half joy that made him laugh wholeheartedly at this, and you didn't see how it could be so funny. You poked him and pouted, and he delighted in this. “See?” he chuckled, looking at you in that funny way he did from time to time.

“See what?”

“This. This is th-the girl I fell in love with,” he stated matter of factly. “the one who likes t-to be comfortable, speaks her mind and prefers those jeans with th-the rip on the side. Not to mention those graphic t-shirts. Or cute pj's.”

Your breath caught a little at this confession. How could the smartest man in the universe adore an impertinent person like you? Maybe the same way you could love the smartest man; you just do. In your girlish voice, you said. “I only wanted you to be proud of me.”

Holding you a fraction tighter, he pressed a light kiss to your temple and chuckled sweetly. “Y-you already do princess. Today y-you made an effort for me, and that's impressive, but honestly, I want you t-t-to be comfortable and dress up how y-you like. You as yourself is what impresses me, because you have s-s-so much spirit, and I - that's what makes y-you gorgeous.”

This time you didn't even try to hide your blush.

“Oh Rick, hearing you say that really does make me feel silly. Why did I do this to myself? What was I thinking?”

“I believe y-you're still trying to figure it all out like the rest of us, and I can't get mad at you for th-that because you're wonderfully human. You had good intentions, and th-that's what counts.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“I al-already have.”

TBC

[milkoftherat]

so my eating habits have changed like crazy. which would be a good thing except I haven't lost any weight. I had gained about 50 pounds since my mother died cause I went back on meds and like general depression lol and that was with serious binge eating. like I would go to the grocery store after work every day or so and get a pint of ice cream, multiple bags of candy, cookies, soda, and like a slice of cake and eat it allllllll in one sitting. every day. now I can only eat like once a day and its a normal amount of food and I feel sick. you would think I would lose weight right? nope. I don't get it. my work is very physical so its not like I'm sitting on my ass all the time. hmm. I started taking a metabolism vitamin every day a few days ago so I'm hoping it'll make a difference since my joints hurt too much to actually exercise. I'm hoping if I can drop some weight i'll be able to work out again.