#pasta is very important for me I can assign one type of pasta and one sauce for each character I know

[ndostairlyrium]

I was thinking at warden Alistair and the huge survivor guilt he may build up if Hawke is left in the Fade instead. Like, he already gave full command to a rookie back in the day, was taken advantage as a pawn when a ruler had to be chosen for Fereleden, he then failed to convince the wardens to act wisely rather than throwing themselves in the hands of a complete tool of a man. I think he'd feel like, worthless knowing that someone chose him over another person for just, another decision he couldn't make for himself - which is unfair considering that 1) he gave full command to a person that was more fit for the job 2) he was ready to sacrifice his wellbeing for the good of many 3) he was alone against a fucking army. And they were desperate to the point of sacrificing their own brothers for a suicide mission. A worthless one, to add insult to injury. Try to reason with that, alone, without backups.

The guy needs a vacation, really, and also a huge pat in the back because he's actually putting an effort rather than sitting in a corner crying about his bad luck. I mean, he would do that, but the next day he'll be standing and make a self deprecating joke about it as he pushes through.

[universalistotalis]

Stiff That You Love

Ushijima Wakatoshi (Timeskip!) x Female reader

Masterlist!!!

You never thought you'd see him again. You almost choked on the truffle pasta that you ordered in this café when a certain beautiful giant waved and made his way to you.

"Holy damn." You whispered underneath your breath as his strides made their way towards your table. You knew he was already a show stopper back then, but now???!

You were so sure everyone would drop dead at the sight of him.

"Hi." He greeted with his deep voice. "Do you still remember me?"

Surprise filled your expression at his question but you smiled politely and nodded your head. "How could I forget? How are you Ushijima?"

You swore you saw a glint of relief and excitement in his eyes but it immediately wavered as he motioned to the chair in front of you.

"May I?" He asked again, holding the back of the chair.

Is he really going to sit here with me?!

"Sure, of course." Your voice squeaked at the feeling of your heart bursting out of your chest. His greeting was enough to kick the air out of your lungs but a whole conversation?! You didn't know how long you would last in his ever- intimidating presence.

-

It was already the last year in college and you were so determined to graduate with latin honors. Every single minute of your life, you dedicated it to studies, friends and family. They were all that mattered. And so you stayed until the wee hours at certain café spots around the university or at the library inside the campus. You went to meet up with friends during the weekends only for a simple dinner or lunch. You called your family members every chance you get during free time. That was your life. And you were content.

But then this boy came in to the picture.

"You will be partnered together and I shall assign the pair. Make sure you finish the written output, video presentation, and oral defense at the end of the semester." Those were the words of your professor during one of your classes before yours and his name were called out together.

You swore it was fate. Romance was really not in the forefront of your mind but as they say, "You'll find it best when you're not looking".

AND MY GOD WERE YOU SO WRONG!

This man named Ushijima Wakatoshi who came out from nowhere, looking as good they come, had no ounce of romance nor funny bone in his muscular body. He was the most dense, most serious, most infuriating man you've ever met in your whole life!!! He was a whole perfectionist, always so blunt at his comments about the outputs that you showed him. He was also so strict with the deadlines, not considering that you had other classes than this that had much more weight and importance.

You were so close to giving up but...

"Y/n?" You knew that voice only belonged to the certain antagonist in your story right now.

Your hands trembled as you wiped the tears streaming down your face after your meeting together at the library.

"Ushijima, hey!" You pretended to be your usual chirpy self as you turned around to face him.

It was already late so the lights surrounding the university casted an unworldly glow on his face. He was always so breathtaking no matter where you put him but damn those looks! He was just as heartless.

"Are you alright?" He asked with a worried tone.

"I'm fine. I'll be going home now. See you next week." You excused yourself.

"Wait." His cold fingers caught your arm and that made you stop your tracks.

"Is there a problem, Wakatoshi?"

He bowed his head before slowly releasing you in his grip. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior."

"W-what?" You wanted to make sure if what your ears heard was right. He does not seem the type to apologize.

You heard another deep sigh as he looked at you. "I've always been told that I come off too much to others. I didn't realize it until recently when one of my friends told me."

"Oh, well..."

"I'll try to be better though. I'll be more careful from now on. And I'm really sorry if I ever hurt your feelings in the past." He said with all seriousness that you can't help but sigh and just nod.

"You can be really mean sometimes." You agreed and chuckled, letting a tear escape your eyes.

"You've been crying." He stated flatly as if he was reciting a trivia. "I'm still so sorry."

You giggled. "Yeah, I forgive you. Anyway, it's getting late, Wakatoshi. We have to head home."

"I'll walk you home." He said with a finality in his voice. You were again, surprised by his actions but just agreed because this was such a draining day.

And as you were nearing where you stayed, you were again surprised at how comforting his presence was.

--

You did find his presence after that night relaxing. He became more tactful and he started to insert jokes during your meetings which shocked you so much the first time that he felt a little offended. You became such close friends that his team mates in volleyball were again, shocked that he managed to get a friend outside the team. It was just a matter of getting used to, you thought to yourself. He's just so honest, mechanical, and straightforward to a fault and you got to master how to tell him off when needed. He also developed to trust you so whenever he needed advice, he would always go to you and trust your honest words.

Looking at him now, it made your heart warm at how far he'd come. It's amazing to have known him then. To have seen how he grew as an athlete, a student, and a person. He may still be a little stiff but that's just the Wakatoshi you've come to love.

"Soo..." He started while sitting back down again after claiming his coffee from the counter. "I am not disturbing you, am I?" He pointed at the laptop and papers next to you.

You laughed. "Not at all! I finished them anyway."

"How have you been then?" He asked. His elbows were resting on the table and his hands were holding on to the cup of coffee. The sight was a little funny considering his giant built was leaned onto a very small table.

You smiled gently. "I've been good! I got the job that I dreamed of having and I own some businesses too. Ho--"

"Your eyes sparkle the same way." He cut off.

"What?" You asked, surprised at his random comment.

"Your eyes..." He pointed out. "They sparkle the same way they did in college when you were talking about something you like."

"How did you notice that?" You laughed.

"I'm known to be observant." He smirked slightly, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Okay, Mr. Oh-So-Observant, how are your matches going? I've been tuning in since the first tournament and it looks like you're going to the semi- finals!" You cheered not hiding your pride and excitement for the country's national volleyball team. When you searched on how to watch the live games, you insisted that you were there to cheer for the country and definitely NOT to cheer and simp for a certain brown- haired, serious player. Definitely NOT!

"You've been watching our games?" He asked, eyes slightly widening at the thought of you cheering for him. What he didn't know was that you were always watching his games since college, not missing even one match. You were always there, crying at how proud you were of him. Also, crying at how much he could never be yours.

"Of course, I have, silly!" You chuckled and pointed at your laptop. "I've been watching here and you're just so amazing and strong!"

He suddenly paused at your statement, silently raising a brow at you and smiling softly.

"I- I meant that your whole team is amazing and strong." You clarified, a blush automatically painting the whole of your face and ears.

"Would you like to go tomorrow?" He blinked, setting down his cup on the wooden surface. "To the game, I mean?"

Your eyes widened at his offer. "Are you serious?!"

He chuckled at your reaction. "Of course! We're allowed to bring spectators for the games, I'll just give you the tickets."

"Wow, Ushijima, thank you so much! It's an honor!" You chimed excitedly, jumping a little on your chair.

"The honor's mine." He replied, grinning at you.

He already knew back then that you were one of a kind. No one ever really stayed and tried to understand his demeanor and personality but you did. You were so honest and kind and you always knew what to do or say to keep him at ease. You accepted him for who he was and he's so thankful to have met such a beautiful soul. Even when you were doing nothing, even when you're just sitting across this table from him, without you knowing, you already made up his entire exhausting day. Hell, you made up all those exhausting years of not seeing each other since you two graduated. He suddenly imagined if being with you would always be like this. So peaceful and just pure bliss...

"You've got to be shitting on me! Is that Ushiwaka?" The pair sitting next to the glass walls of the café was oblivious of the red- haired tower and group of men walking past the street. All of them were wearing coats and casual attires as they're planning to go for lunch at their favorite restaurant for a little reunion. The all powerful Shiratorizawa Volleyball Team, headed by Ushijima in high school, cowered like puppies at the name of their captain being mentioned.

"Where?!" Goshiki stopped and shielded himself from an invisible force. "He said he couldn't make it!"

"I guess our baby's growing up, look!" Tendou hummed and pointed at the two of you laughing and looking at each other with heart eyes. "I bet they don't know that they're shooting hearts at each other."

"I never thought he could smile like that." Semi whispered.

"Yeah well, he's been crushing on that girl since college." Tendou filled the silent wonder of the whole group. "That's why she looked familiar! He kept sending me photos of them together studying or something..."

"Studying, my ass!" Shirabu laughed as they continued staring and hiding behind a post at the same time.

They all burst out laughing and again Tendou chuckled. "No seriously, they were studying!"

"Yeah well, they look good together. I hope he'd have the balls to ask her out. Please god!" Goshiki put his hands together as if seriously praying.

"Bet you 10, 000 yen, we'd be attending his wedding two years from now." Semi challenged.

"Nah, I'll go with a year." Tendou offered.

The men casted their bets on how long you and Ushijima would get married. They knew their captain so well to be sure enough that he was serious with you. Safe to say, Semi won the bet.

--

Reblogs are appreciated! <3

[tunedtostatic]

ain’t no safety coats, raft or river boats

Brian & Sana (plus a dash of Brian & Arkady and pre-Brian/Krejjh), 1.5k

This was supposed to be another triple drabble. It is not! Title is from “Can’t Be Too Careful” by Jennah Bell.

CW: Food, mention of minor injury, descriptions of deep bodies of water

~

Brian suppresses a sleepy morning yawn as he makes his way down the dim corridor of the starship Rumor. After two nights aboard, this path between the bathroom and the kitchen is still unfamiliar in a way that brings back memories of waking up in new apartments and the odd adjustment periods of still packed boxes and unfamiliar sinks and cabinets in new spaces that had abruptly become “home.”

Right. Just another new apartment. New bed. New shower. New, borrowed clothing—no boxes to unpack this time. New microwave. New cargo hold with thirty-five cases of bulk gourmet chocolate destined for the intergalactic black market. New bath mat.

In the kitchen, Captain Tripathi is at the stove, boiling a kettle.

New roommates.

“Morning, Brian.” Tripathi smiles at him, one of her dimples showing. “Tea?”

“I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea?” Brian steps up to the counter next to her, opening the cabinet that he now knows holds the cereal. “Thanks, Captain.”

As Sana methodically unseals a package of vacuum-sealed bread, Brian realizes that this is the first time he’s been alone with her. Krejjh has been spending hours with her, learning the Rumor’s cockpit, and Brian’s first hour aboard included First Mate Arkady Patel walking him to the Rumor’s tiny medbay and carefully cleaning the cut on his cheek with a taciturnity that did not come across as unkind. But this is the first time Brian and Sana have been in a room together without the rest of their tiny new crew.

The toaster slot in the wall dings, and Brian watches Sana out of the corner of his eye as she spreads butter substitute on her toast. He’s known her for three days, two life-threatening calamities, and one crew dinner. He trusts her with his life. He doesn’t think he knows her better than he did the hour they met.

“Have you and Krejjh been settling into your cabins okay? I told them to let me know if they needed the temperature lower in there. As it is, one reg controls the whole ship, but I should be able to rig something up.”

“You can ask them when they wake up. But their energy levels seem pretty normal to me.” Brian smiles.

Sana smiles back, but as Brian pulls the milk out of the fridge, he has the feeling that she’s watching him, too.

He doesn’t think her question about Krejjh was, like, a test, with a right/wrong answer where she was seeing if he was…willing to speak for them, or something. He doesn’t really think it was any kind of deliberate probe, even to scope out something as general as how much he and Krejjh trust or know about each other. But he does feel like, every time they interact, Tripathi has been quietly getting the measure of him.

He doesn’t have the measure of her yet. He’s known other people who are both kind and tough. That isn’t a heavy lift. But there is another dimension to Sana’s kindness, something deep and quiet that undulates like an underground river.

“It has been nice to have some enthusiasm in the cockpit, I have to say.” There’s a twinkle in her eye, now. Right, Brian’s almost-joke about Krejjh’s energy levels. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to teach the Rumor’s quirks to someone new.”

As she reseals the butter substitute, she glances at him with a canny expression. “You know, she might not come out and say this, but I think Arkady is looking forward to have someone who might be doing, say, translation work at the kitchen table while she’s on one of her coding marathons, too.”

Brian smiles and nods, wondering if Sana, for all her perspicacity, has realized yet that her subtle skid-greasing in this realm isn’t necessary. You met some interesting folks in academia, even if most of them didn’t carry at least three guns at all times and have biceps the size of Brian’s undergrad coffee thermos, and you definitely met some interesting folks on Neuzo. Resultantly, some types of weirdness are easier for Brian to parse than others.

A few hours after a sweaty, out of breath Sana, Arkady, Krejjh and Brian had made it aboard the Rumor and into space, Sana was still flying and Arkady had vanished after her into the cockpit to help liaise with their contacts. Unfamiliar with the ship, Brian and Krejjh had stuck to the kitchen, talking quietly.

Arkady had appeared in the doorway with a faint scowl, looking Brian and Krejjh over for a second before going to the sink and silently filling two glasses with water. She’d walked to the table and set the glasses down, remaining standing.

“Important to stay hydrated.”

“Thanks, dude,” Brian said hesitantly.

Arkady grunted, staring impassively down at them for another few seconds. “We did a pot of pasta last night. Leftovers are in the fridge. It has rehydrated shellfish powder. Allergies?”

Brian shook his head.

“Microwave’s there.” Arkady pointed to the very obvious microwave. “Fridge.” The even more obvious fridge. “Cabinets. Help yourself to whatever, except the chamomile tea, that’s for Sana’s headaches.”

“Roger dodger,” Krejjh replied, in a cadence Brian could recognize as false cheer.

Arkady turned to look directly at Krejjh, and Brian tensed.

Arkady must have noticed that, because she turned and looked at him for a long second. Her eyes, he realized, reminded him of a deep mountain lake he had seen once on a visit to Earth. The water had been impossibly clear; you could see through it all the way down to the point where light no longer filtered through.

She reached for a chair and swiveled it in an easy motion, sinking down to straddle it backwards.

“I’m this ship’s security officer,” she said, as though this wasn’t functionally obvious from the five holstered guns, the two sheathed knives, the events that had introduced the two halves of the new crew to each other, or her thorough sweep for bugs when they finally made it to the Rumor. “That means that while you are part of this crew, you are under my protection.”

Brian had felt his shoulders relax, and Arkady had dropped her lakewater gaze, mumbled something about Sana assigning them cabins later, and spun the chair back around.

Then she’d bolted. Brian had smiled and squeezed Krejjh’s hand—trying to ignore the way this seemed to make his heart flip a little more every time—and gotten up to microwave the pasta.

The kettle starts to whistle, and Sana reaches a nonchalant hand to set it on a cool burner as deftly as if it was a teacup. Her arm musculature situation isn’t exactly shabby, either, which…yeah, working as a mechanic in the wartime shipyards would probably do that.

Then add ‘building a secret starship with your own two hands.’ Brian is still trying to wrap his head around that one. Becoming one of the only humans fluent in Standard Exo-Dwarnian after shiphopping to Neuzo for fieldwork, and then getting in the ill graces of the Dwarnian mafia and falling in l—becoming excellent friends with a deserting Dwarnian pilot probably wouldn’t be considered, like, that normal by most people? But Brian has never built anything larger or more secret than a poprocket that time in third grade, unless you count the less physical large-ness of his research, which was technically also a secret once the war broke out, and now that he’s thinking about it, if you gave each sentence of his thesis the weight of a rivet, it actually might be up there with the mass of a starship? Ha, he’s totally telling Krejjh that just to see the look on their face. No doubt they’ll have opinions on whether a chapter section is equivalent to one or two hull subsections.

“Mugs are in that cabinet,” Sana says easily, gesturing toward it.

“Got it, dude,” Brian replies, equally easily.

You don’t comfortably exist in a place like Neuzo, or for that matter a place like academia, if you expect everyone to present their whole self at all times. Besides, since Brian is now in effect depending on Tripathi’s astuteness for his own safety and Krejjh’s, it’s comforting to know that she knows how to keep an eye on layers of social interactions, even when that includes her interactions with him.

He hands off the mugs in a brush of cracked porcelain and calloused hands. The domesticity of working beside someone at a kitchen counter is unexpectedly comforting, too. He could almost be in the cramped galley kitchen of his last shared grad school apartment, or behind the bar with Alvie, getting ready for a shift.

He isn’t.

Sana drops the teabags into the mugs, pouring the steaming water carefully. “If you take sugar, I think it was last seen in the cabinet next to the fridge.”

Brian chuckles at her almost-joke about the dynamic chaos of her kitchen. The kitchen. Their kitchen. He’s going to be spending the next few days getting used to that. If Sana is an early riser, maybe he’ll spend the next few days getting used to mornings like this with her, too.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Cassell Cynic Part 2

A continuation of @hectabdr @hectab‘s lovely characters.

When Nathan lay back on the bench, Hana’s face filled with furious determination.

Nathan protested loudly as she stomped his feet, seized his arm in a mighty heave and lifted him across the back of her shoulders. Her strong arm was wrapped around his leg and other her hand gripped his wrist. He tried to pull away but she held him tightly secured. “What are you doing?! Let me down!”

“I’m not going to let you make me fail this assignment!” She grunted roughly and stomped off toward the medieval looking administrators building.

Nathan used his free arm to pull his ear buds out. “Are you kidnapping me? Go die by yourself!”

“You think you’re going to die?”

“Of course I’m going to die if I go on assignment with you!” He struggled futilely against her iron-like grip. “Let go! You’re ruining my day!”

“When the dragons come back, they’ll do more than ruin your day. Or do you not know that because you don’t care to study?”

“I know that and that’s why I don’t bother! It’s obvious that someone else is going to do it, why should I care about it?”

“Because we …” She puffed, staggering with her struggling captive. “You're heavier than you look.... We all have a role to play. No one is going to slay the dragons alone! When the chips are down everyone needs to think about what they can do to make sure the dragons don’t win!”

“If I face a dragon, I’ll bow down and say ‘I welcome my new scaly overlords!’” He hollered loud enough for anyone in the courtyard to hear.

She stopped. Her face turned to him in horror. “You don’t mean that. Surely.”

His face was full of indignation. “And even if I don’t, so what? I just hope they don’t eat me and I live another day because I’m not slaying any god-damn dragon and chances are, neither are you! Now put me down!”

“Don’t put me in the same league as you, you coward…”

“I’m a coward? You’re a coward!” He turned to look at her over her shoulder. “You’re so scared of getting something less than an A+ that you’re kidnapping me! That’s what this is about. Don’t give me that Dragon War spiel. You’re more scared of your report card than a dragon. Am I right or am I right? Exactly. If this assignment was about dragonslaying, I wouldn’t be on it, being C ranked… No one’s going to put the world in my hands! Put me down!” 

She finally lowered him from her shoulders and he brushed himself off and smoothed down his hair. He turned to look up at her. “Thank you!”

She gave him a stern look, lips pursed. “You’re really serious… about not doing anything.”

“Yeah! I am serious! Thank you for finally acknowledging that!” He stepped around her to return to his bench.

“So you weren’t put up here to sabotage me?” She asked.

“I am not doing this to sabotage you. No. But someone might be. You do what you need to do if your grades are that important to you, but leave me out of it. I don’t need grades to stay here.” Nathan turned fully around and walked backwards towards the bench. “Contrary to your belief, your assignment is not the end of the world and, if it was really that important, they will find someone else to do it!”

He sat back on the bench, groaning in dismay as he picked up his ruined blunt where he’d dropped it.  “If I have to be on your assignment for you to pass then you might as well stay here on the bench! Because I’m not going. Period. You’ll have to deal with the smudge on your record. Though… knowing you, you’ll suplex them until they give you a make up assignment to erase the quote-unquote bad grade, so your parents don’t call you and cuss you out. If you do kidnap me, though, I’ll definitely make sure you fail, you psycho!” He rotated his shoulder. “That hurt, you know.”

Hana stayed where she was and helplessly watched him as he sat back down at the bench. “You’re really not coming. You’re not going to help me at all?”

Nathan didn’t respond. He rolled another blunt and lit it in silence. He could tell she wasn’t giving up, she was just changing strategy. She was drunk on the whole Dragonslaying mission Kool-Aid. He could feel his buzz actively dying as she approached him and sat back down. He passed it to her and she refused. But he insisted. “Take it, you need it more than I do.”

“I don’t smoke.” 

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He inhaled slowly. The skunky smell of the marijuana filled the air. “You shouldn’t care so much.”

“I do care but it's because this is what comes natural to me. I’m strong and talented and I can do the things they need me to do. My talents will be wasted elsewhere. No one’s putting pressure on me. This is who I am and what I do best. So why not excel at it?”

He coughed on a rough pull. He was genuinely shocked. “No? You don’t have some mommy and daddy at home who will be disappointed if you get a B?” He asked, scoffing at her. “You don’t care at all if you ‘fail your ancestors’ or something?”

“No.” She said firmly. “I don’t. I didn’t come from a prestigious family or a famous bloodline. I don’t even know who my father is. Unlike you.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “I’m self motivated and good at what I do. A few of the professors were thinking of putting me on a track to become faculty. They said I have to learn how to be an earnest guide. They wanted me to take you on an assignment and walk you through it.”

“Really? ...damn.” Nathan shut his mouth for once, scratching his head. “I’d pegged you as one of those trust fund babies.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “Believe me, I’m not. Like I said, I don’t care for them. They’re just coasting on their parent’s allowance and pretending to be better than everyone else. Kinda like you. At least you’re a trust fund baby who has their head in reality.” She grinned but there was no humor in it.

Nathan couldn’t argue that. “So uh… what’s this assignment?”

“I just have to accompany some cargo to the airport. But it’s sensitive cargo. So we just need to guard it.”

“Ah ha!” He tilted his head back. “So solve one problem with another. Very clever. You know what I think? I think my lack of urgency pisses them off so bad that they would do anything to get me to care even a little bit. And if they can’t get me to do anything, then they can get me off campus so they don’t have to look at me. They don’t need me here. It’s all head games. So I’ll play their head game.”

“What do you mean?” She tilted her head.

He pointed to the blunt in his hand. “What I mean is, this weed is going to give me the munchies. So, I’ll go ahead and put in a big order from the canteen. What do you like?” He pulled his cellphone from his pocket.

“I guess. Italian… pasta. I like Greek Food?” She said.

“Pasta and Gyros… sounds good to me.” He typed to put in the order.

“Are you ordering food for me?” She peered at his phone.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Nathan turned to her. “Wow… you really don’t have any friends.”

“You don’t either!” She snarled.

“I did before I came here. And I will when I leave here. You on the other hand… good luck on your ‘Hero’s Journey’. Heh.” He chuckled.

“Why don’t you just leave if you hate it here so much.” She stretched her legs in front of her and looked at the sky.

Nathan continued his lengthy order. “I don’t hate it here. I can live here, eat good food, and do nothing. Duh. It’s like the best vacation ever. It just sucks that by the end I won’t get to remember any of it. It’s like an alternate dimension. I just want them to give me good memories. Like I did something awesome. That’s all.” He waved his book of false memory ideas.

“You’re going to let them erase your memory?” Hana lowered  her voice, partly shocked, partly amazed.

“Yep. Here I’m no better than a regular human. So I might as well live like one. Order will be ready in 45 minutes.” He put his phone in his pocket.

“Why not split the difference? Do just enough to participate and stick around. That’s what Fingel does.” She wondered.

“Oh ho... Not just Fingel. Isn’t that what everyone else does? I look at everyone around me and… you’re  the first person I’ve met here who actually believes all this is for saving the world. That’s cool. You want to be here for that. But that’s why the other people get on your nerves. You can tell they’re faking it, and you’re not about the BS.”

Hana fell into a thoughtful silence.

“Which is why they sent you to talk to me probably.” He lowered his blunt. “It’s not that I don’t care that dragons are big and scary, it’s just I know I can’t do anything, just like 90% of the people here… so…” He shrugged. “There’s going to be maybe… what … 10 or 12 people actually fighting dragons? The rest? They’re just in it for the social points. And I’m not interested in social points.”

“What are you interested in?” She asked.

“Enjoying life while I have it.” He sat back and blew out a long plume of smoke.

Hana sat with him and stared out into the empty courtyards. On the peak of a gabled roof, a mockingbird was singing its heart out and doing acrobatic leaps in the air as it did so. Hana pursed her lips and tapped her feet. “If you could… please do this one assignment for me. I won’t ask again. I’m backed into a corner here and I don’t really have a choice at the moment.”

Nathan sighed loudly. “You could always do nothing, Hana. Just say, ‘He’s not coming, figure something out.’ I don’t want to get in your way, but I’m not going to let them play the pity card either. We’re all adults here. Don’t ask me to play their game. And it is a game.” He looked at her with wide eyes, waving his blunt. “If this assignment is really important, they’ll find someone else. The assignment isn’t the real issue here. This has nothing to do with your grade. I guarantee it has everything to do with their ego. They’re just like my parents. They’re just like my brother. Trying to make me care about their shit and I don’t. And that pisses them off.”

“You’re… pretty defensive right now.” She laughed.

He laughed in disbelief. He was getting pretty riled up about all this. “I want them off my back! I don’t understand why they need the C-ranker to be on board with their war games.”

Hana smiled disarmingly. “I for one… appreciate your honesty. You’re not so bad. I can’t be the only one who feels that you’re not so bad either. I think I’m here because they want to keep you around.”

Nathan raised his eyebrows. “Tch… Yeah good luck to them.”

 Hana pushed off the bench. “Alright. I’ll ask them to pair me with someone else or… do something else about it. Nice talkin’ to you.”

“Hey, don’t forget. Food’s gonna be here in 40 minutes.” He shouted after her.

“Alrighty!”

[arsonistblue]

Hi!! I am writing a spy novel featuring an autistic character, and while I have been doing research on autism and the do’s and dont’s, is there anything you would suggest/mention?

I am allistic, and my character—Person A—is an adult Black woman in her twenties. She stims a lot, has turn-offs (like touching gross fabric or eating weird textures), is good at social cues, but isn’t very good at recognizing her own emotions. Is this a good/accurate autistic person? What should I remember while writing her character?

I also want to include another character—Person B—who is a very close friend of A. Person B is highly empathetic (although not as much as you’ve described in posts about your hyperempathy) and helps Person A recognize and handle her emotions. Would this be acceptable? I don’t want to push the idea that autistic people need assistance to recognize their own emotions.

hi!!! thanks so much for sending this! i’m glad you’re being so respectful and good about doing research. but just a reminder, whatever you do, ask autistic people like you have been doing, don’t go to sites like autism speaks. 

i should preface this by saying that i’m only in high school, and i am white, so it won’t be exact.

that sounds pretty accurate, yeah! i stim a lot (for me it’s pretty subtle, fidgeting too, though i flap my hands or rock back and forth sometimes), and that is in part because of my adhd. and the texture thing is super important!!! while it doesn’t happen to every autistic person, it’s pretty common, and it can be very random things (one of mine is elbow pasta. not pasta in general, i love pasta, but i hate elbow pasta specifically. i cannot stand it.) such as velvet or tin foil or wet grass. and vice versa, there are also textures we might love (especially plush or soft things)! 

and social cues can be a difficult one. i myself am pretty good with social cues, but some other autistic people aren’t. everyone is different; and it’s important to remember that autism is a spectrum, but not from “less autistic” to “more autistic.” it’s more like a soup. you can have more or less of different “ingredients” like social cue understanding, stimming, hyperfocusing, verbal communication, etc! 

the emotion thing is also a great question! like with other parts of autism, emotions (both how intensely you feel them and whether it’s easy to recognize them) are different for everyone. 

as someone who is hyperempathetic because of my autism, i think it’s a great system of support! (and for some extra tips for character B, maybe have them occasionally get overloaded with emotion, and try to assign tells to their own emotions!) 

this is especially a great system if, as you said, characters A and B are close friends. there’s nothing wrong with leaning on friends and getting support! just make sure that all of your characters (based on personalities and potential trust issues, ofc) all rely on friends, so it’s not just the autistic character who has support. but yeah, that sounds awesome! 

also, whatever you do, steer clear of the sheldon cooper archetype, or the robotic, factual personalities we see all too often in autistic characters. we’re people! there’s nothing wrong with having your autistic character be intelligent; in fact, that’s a good thing! but don’t make them the super smart, math whiz, all-knowing nerd type, yk? again there’s nothing wrong with being autistic and a nerd, but don’t do the stereotype. 

that said, some of us do enjoy very “left-brained” things. but in general, don’t make us sheldon coopers. 

sorry this answer was so long! any other autistic people please feel free to chime in in the notes/reblogs!! and feel free to send any other questions you might have.

(also, spy novel with autistic main female character of color???? amazing, 10/10 would read)

[silenceofthecookies]

Black Clover matchup for @nakunakunomi

Matchup for me :D No gender preferences I am a biromantic ace. 

Your age: 24 

Your general appearance - most striking features, your fashion style, etc.

Answer: Chubby mermaid lol. Long curly hair almost all the way down my back. Red at the moment, but I’ve had all colors of the rainbow. Ears pierced multiple times and a septum ring whenever I leave the house. My general style is comfy alternative, loads of black, boots and ripped jeans but baggy shirts and sweaters. I don’t like drawing much attention to my chest because my boobs are a very prominent feature. Hourglass figure with extra minutes: so there’s boobs and ass but also a tummy and such. I have dimples when I laugh and a whole bunch of moles over my body. I like a killer liner and mascara but don’t necessary wear makeup every day. I like 4 tattoos and waiting for that fifth one. 

Your MBTI, western zodiac chart, etc.

Answer: INFP (mediator), Scorpio sun, Libra moon, Pisces ascending. Year of the rat. I’d say my MBTI type is pretty accurate and while I don’t have many of the bitchy traits often assigned to Scorpios, I do have some of the passion towards things I care about and a generally jealous and stubborn personality. 

Your personality, how you perceive yourself and how people around you perceive you.*

Your hobbies, interests, life goals etc.*

Answer: Stubbornness and some jealousy (that is always internalized) are my worst traits. I lack self-esteem and confidence and get anxious in new situations. Once I am around people I trust I blossom open and become more giggly (lame jokes and such) my humor is about 50% puns and 50% sarcasm. I am quick-witted with ‘mean’ remarks but I will never intend to offend or cause harm to anyone. Tough exterior comes with a soft interior. I tend to overthink and worry a lot and will usually put a friend’s needs above mine. I often have people coming to me for advice or to help them calm down. I will be honest in the softest way possible, even if the things I need to say aren’t necessarily nice. I want my friends to flourish. I get easily distracted by cute things and can really enjoy beautiful sights, nice food, good company… i am heavily introverted but I do need the handful of people I care about to flourish myself.

I accumulate facts and know loads of small things about a lot of things. I like adding in fun facts every now and then but sometimes I come across as a know-it-all and then I will get really self-conscious about it. I either talk up a storm nonstop or turn into myself and get really really quiet. 

Your favorites, likes, dislikes, pet peeves, fears.*

Answer: anything creative: reading and writing, drawing (although I’m terrible at it), pixel art. Singing, making music, playing instruments, DIYing things. I am quite good with makeup and wigs, and I cosplay but the sewing I still struggle with. I love acting and gaming as well although I don’t spend that much time on them.

I am super heavily interested in true crime, cases, and the psychology of murderers and such. I tend to get overexcited talking about such cases, never celebrating violence, but just being very fascinated by what a human brain can do. I also just really love riddles, mysteries, and solving them.

I’d love to become a teacher or a professional dog trainer. I love animals more than I love people and if I could work with dogs every day of my life that’d be amazing. An unrealistic goal would be to sing for a living, or do musicals. But I don’t think that’s ever gonna happen. 

Any additional info you would like to share, fun facts, etc.

Answer: food! Mainly Asian dishes (from all of Asia) and pastas. I love cooking and experimenting in the kitchen and trying out new things to taste. I’m vegetarian but not vegan and I will try everything that’s not meat or fish at least once! I love all kinds of animals, not only your average pets. I will also go pet the cows, and in the zoo you’ll have to drag me away by my ankles from the reptilians and the aquarium. I am fascinated by them and I love them. I love plants and flowers, and if you’d let me be, Id have a small jungle in my house with all kinds of plants and animals. I just love taking care of them, talking to them…

I dislike arrogant people, people who are rude against serving staff. I dislike impoliteness and laziness in the sense that other people are suffering from your lack of work. If I am in a group project I will never procrastinate because it can drag the whole group down, it’s okay to be lazy if it only impacts yourself.

I am afraid of loneliness and the fact that everyone I know just pretends to like me while talking behind my back and secretly hating me. I am not easily startled by monsters, animals, and such, but I do get a little paranoid if I have to walk in the street in the middle of the night. (a side effect from the true-crime consumption) 

Answer: I think I added most things in the other walls of text (sorry they are so long). But when it comes to relationship and goals around that there are these things that I think are most important: 

Love language is mostly quality time and words of affirmation, and that’s what I like too, as well as soft PDA and affections: cuddles, kisses, hand holding… I like spending time together, and even more so I like actually doing things together: sharing hobbies, going out, dates, dinners, walks, adventures, travels… all the things! :hellmo: 

Patience, because I have some anxiety issues as well as fear of commitment. I will definitely need some reassurance. Also consent is the sexiest thing in the world, and that’s coming from an ace person.

Honesty, liars are out. I have a lot of trouble trusting again once there has been a breach of trust. White lies for surprises and such is one thing, but any intentional lying in order to avoid confrontation is an absolute dealbreaker. 

I match you with...

Dorothy Unsworth!

Despite her being asleep a lot of the time, Dorothy notices more than she lets on. She can see straight through the front someone is putting up and see what they are really feeling. This really helps in letting her support you, who is always supporting others. She’ll remind you that sometimes you need to take a break or that you need to focus on yourself instead of others. With her infectious smile and her own absurd sense of humour, she’ll do her best to cheer you up, or at least to distract you from whatever is bothering you.

Dorothy is very patient and has no rush with any relationship. Everything has its own time and waiting for that time to come it part of the fun, right? She’s also very understanding of your anxiety and is able to adjust her energy to the situation, keeping it low when you need comfort and reassurance, and going straight back to high when you’re feeling better and just want to have some fun.

Dorothy may seem very cute and girly, but she is interested in true crime as much as you are. The gruesome details of a case are not wasted on her and she will gladly talk with you about these cases. In her time as a magic knight she has seen her own fair share of true crime as well and she will gladly share anything that’s not confidential or dangerous.

Her love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation. Not a day will go by where Dorothy won’t hug you from behind, kiss you between your shoulder blades and tell you she loves you. She loves loving you and making you feel loved. When she’s in love, keeping her lover safe, emotionally and physically, is her number one priority. She won’t give you even a second to doubt her love for you whenever you’re together. She’s very conscious of your boundaries and makes sure to not cross them.

Not a single lie will leave her mouth, unless as a joke, which will be very clear when she tells it. She is a knight, an enforcer of justice and peace, and lies are not in her book. Teasing, however, very much is, though she prefers to tease you with truths instead of with jokes. If there’s truth to the teasing, it’s just that much more effective.

You want this small strong captain to be putty in your hands? Cook for her, or cook with her. Dorothy greatly enjoys the good things in life and food is definitely on her list of good things. Her preference is mostly sweets, but she knows she needs to eat healthy food as well and she’s not picky when it comes to her dinner. The only need she has is that it tastes good, and that’s something you with your amazing culinary skills can definitely provide!

[itsblissfuloblivion]

metanoia

A/N: surprise holiday gift from @gryffindormischief & @fightfortherightsofhouseelves.  Hinny Muggle Modern AU for your reading pleasure :)

FF and Ao3

_____

Honestly, if Sirius wasn’t the estate lawyer for Mrs. Figg, Harry probably never would’ve known about the shop. About his shop.

Because Mrs. Figg loved two things - cats and pizza. And apparently thought Harry should too.

It just so happens Harry’s most recent assignment has wrapped up - with a significant number of deranged menaces to society locked away. Though not enough. Harry has been victim to the knowledge of just how horrible a human can be since he could barely spell his full name.

And now, just about thirty years later, he’s bagged his fair share of serial killers - including the one that started it all. At least for him. He’s studied, tracked, and caught them with an endless supply of motivation. Motivation that Sirius has on more than one occasion called an ‘obsession’ or ‘avoidance.’

Harry likes to think of it as a positive outcome from a highly traumatic childhood. And saying it that way makes him sound like a well adjusted adult so he sticks with it.

Though in the privacy of his own mind, it sounds less and less true with each passing day.

Which is probably why the shop feels like a set up. A glass half full type might say kismet or destiny, but again, childhood trauma and possible suppression of feelings.

Sirius sighs. “You were rabbit trailing.”

Harry grunts. “Was not.”

“Tell me what I just said.”

“Pizza shop.”

“You are a terrible godson.”

“No family discount for you,” Harry says with a grin, swirling his coffee.

Rolling his eyes, Sirius resumes his explanation. “Arabella loved you in her own strange way and this is her even stranger way of showing it.”

“But - why ? I said I liked her pizza. But she literally has a photo wall of her herd of cats - do I look like someone who wants to stare at that all day?”

Sirius fiddles with his empty Splenda packet, tearing it to bits and sighing a little. And when he does speak it’s not really an answer. “They would want you to be happy.”

Harry blinks.

“Your parents.”

“I gathered.”

A herd of teenagers bustle into the coffee shop, bringing an icy wind and puddling rain with them. Harry really hasn’t missed London’s general greyness. Psychotic murdering crime syndicate aside, Majorca was warm and sunny .

“I’m good at it, Sirius,” Harry says after a moment, “Protecting people, catching killers, don’t I owe it to them, to everyone, to keep going?”

“Don’t let that arsehole steal your whole life - you got justice,” Sirius frowns, “However much you could, that is. You don’t owe anyone, any of us.”

Harry’s quiet a moment. “Well I guess we should go take a look at my new shop.”

The first red flag really should’ve gone up when Sirius told Harry the walkthrough could wait. When he coaxed Harry into taking a post-travel nap . Then he makes his chicken alfredo pasta bake for supper and pours him a large glass of chardonnay, which was when Harry began to feel suspicious. But, just as Sirius wanted, Harry’s too pliant with rich food and heady wine to question it and ends up falling asleep without even realizing.

Yet, when he wakes, he is in pajamas and tucked in bed, mouth a bit stale. Apparently Sirius draws the line in his babying at toothbrushing. It’s just after one in the afternoon and Harry would bet fifty quid Sirius is currently the person buzzing his mobile off the bedside table.

Harry swipes his thumb across the screen and presses the phone to his face.

“Wake up lazy bones.”

“You’re the one who plied me with wine and pasta.”

Sirius’ laugh is a huff. “You’re such a lightweight.”

Harry flops back on the bed and sighs. “Ever hear of jet lag?”

“Nobody likes a whiner.”

There’s some grumbling on Harry’s end and some grouchy barking on Sirius’ end and after what Harry will fully own as whining, he agrees to a greasy breakfast and a tour of his new acquisition right off.

Halfway through his third slice of bacon - deliciously crispy and oily - Harry glances at a mysteriously quiet Sirius. “So what is it?”

“What is what?”

“The catch, the surprise, the thing you’re going to ruin my breakfast with,” Harry answers around the rim of his coffee cup.

“Breakfast? It’s well past two. Don’t know how things are on the continent but - ”

“Breakfast is the first meal of the day,” Harry asserts, “Now answer.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Eat your breakfast .”

Knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, Harry lets the issue drop with a lingering look. Or at least on the surface. Internally, he’s still in full Inspector Mode and highly suspicious of every glance Sirius gives him and every word he says.

But odd as his godfather’s behavior is, it’s not particularly helpful in any information gathering sense. Which isn’t to say it’s not a nice meal. Clinical as Harry may paint himself at times, workaholic though he can be, he loves his godfather and getting caught up doesn’t take twisting his arm.

So yes, he drops the issue for a time, but by the time they’re walking down to Arabella’s, Harry can’t resist any longer. “Don’t you think you should give me fair warning for whatever I’m about to encounter?”

“Since when do I do things like give fair warnings?”

Sirius pushes the door open, overhead bell ringing their entry, and shepherds Harry inside.

Distracted as he is by the display of gallantry, Harry takes a moment to zero in on the figure behind the counter. And when he does, everything clicks together.

His voice is a low hiss, “What the hell, Sirius?”

“Didn’t I mention?”

“You have problems,” Harry grumbles, low enough that hopefully their conversation remains private , “I officially fire you as my godfather.”

Sirius straightens his Santa-themed scarf, jauntily tossed over his shoulder and a bit at odds with the punk vibe of his leather jacket. All of which is at odds with his profession but that’s an issue for another time. A time when Harry’s not less than four paces away from his not-so-secret celebrity crush. Ginny Weasley, star striker for the Holyhead Harpies.

A crush that is complicated all the more by the fact that she’s also his best mate’s sister whom he has not seen since they were almost something. Back when he was a dumb teenager with an axe to grind and entirely too much angst for his awkward green bean-esque body.

“You can’t fire me. It’s outside the scope of your authority.”

“I’ll - ”

Harry loses whatever he was about to say to the ether, well that and Ginny’s eyes as her attention shifts from her final customer to the new entrants. Her patented customer service smile slips into place and she’s halfway through her welcome when her eyes light in recognition. “Harry! Sirius. I wish you’d warned me.”

Ruffling his hair, Harry manages to steel himself and wander closer. “Sirius doesn’t do warnings.”

Ginny nudges the register closed and passes the customer the receipt once it’s printed. “Yeah, I guess that checks out. So we’re business partners now, yeah?”

Harry leans against the counter, taking in the half-full shop, Arabella’s catered shrine to her cats. Which reminds him. “What about the cats? We’re not - ”

Grinning, Ginny tilts her head toward the empty barstools and pours a few sodas. “That was my first question. We are not feline parents.”

Sirius nods. “Arabella had a lady in her quilting group - she’s a cat lover. Took the lot.”

“How will all this fit in - aren’t you busy?” Harry asks, turning his attention to Ginny.

She shrugs. “Somebody’s #1 fan status is in danger, I am officially retired.”

“Shite I - injury?”

“Nah, just felt like time. I’m not getting any younger - in sports years - and I’d rather go out on top than limping if I can help it,” Ginny explains, “On top and in love. The magic was still there but I could feel it fading.”

“Time for a new dream, eh?” Sirius puts in.

“Someone’s been watching too much telly with Teddy,” Harry teases and glances sidelong at Ginny, whose cheeks are a bit flushed, “My godson is quite the fan of Rapunzel.”

Ginny chuckles. “I learned that on very long afternoon of babysitting Victoire and Ted.”

The conversation peters out and they linger a bit uncomfortably until the chef passes a couple of pizzas through to Ginny. With a spared smile for her companions, she grabs the two pies and heads into the dining area to deliver the orders.

Harry can’t help but watch as she turns on the charm, poses for a selfie with a nervous looking little tween at the table, and heads back their way.

Sirius nudges Harry’s arm. “Nice surprise, eh?”

Things pick up at the shop, so Sirius orders a vegetable laden pizza to go and blusters about something important he’s just got to do and disappears as soon as his pie is ready.

Leaving Harry to feel awkward and out of place, not sure he can leave and even less sure he can stay. The latter more a thing about sanity.

He might not be a huge ‘be open about your feelings’ person but Harry’s at least somewhat self aware. And Ginny Weasley, cheeky and fit as ever, wielding the power vested in her as a co-owner of a pizza shop like a queen with a very doughy throne - well it’s not good for his state of mind.

The last forty-eight hours have been highly confusing and unexpected and Harry really feels he’s handled things with admirable elegance considering the post-assignment haze he generally experiences coupled with the usual jet-lag. Well he’s a bit out of it and that means his already low ability to filter and process emotions is severely impeded.

All of which leads Harry to feel he should be cut some slack for his awkward exit - chosen at a time where he can’t do more than offer Ginny a passing wave and earn narrowed eyes in return.

So when he finds himself off the clock two days later and somehow standing in front of Arabella’s, Harry’s really not sure it’s a good idea. Or even what the idea is.

It’s late, yesterday’s snow already either shuffled to the side by plows or trampled by Londoners tramping through the streets, and Harry’s simultaneously hungry and too terrified to be so.

Because if Ginny Weasley’s angry at eight and a half because he and Ron put snails in her sock drawer was terrifying, Harry can only imagine he’s in for a dangerous evening.

The overhead bell beckons his entry and Ginny’s voice calls from the back, “Just a sec - we’re actually - “ she pauses wiping her hands on her apron as she emerges from the kitchen, “Closed.”

“Is it ever closed for me ?” Harry asks.

Ginny scowls. “Dunno we haven’t really discussed any of this, have we?”

“I-”

“You’re not starting off as a particularly enjoyable business partner.”

“It’s been less than a week, give a bloke a break, yeah?” Harry defends, twisting the lock on the door and claiming a seat at the counter.

Ginny pins him with her stare. “If you’re going to hang about after closing, help me clean up.”

Harry accepts the rag she tosses at his chest and follows her minimal, and gradually less angry, instructions. It’s congenial, and Harry finds himself beginning to relax like he hasn’t - maybe ever. At least not without the aid of some sort of sleep-inducing medication or a couple shots of whiskey in his system.

And somehow, Ginny manages to pull him out of himself, her easy chatter draws him in and somehow he finds himself making it more of a conversation. Hell, he’s having a good time and Harry would want to thank Mrs. Figg if he wasn’t still just a little ticked at being manipulated and at the fact that an octogenarian knew his interests better than he did.

Regardless, he returns most nights, sometimes after a day off, sometimes after a long shift he just wants to forget.

Ginny’s always there delivering a cheeky rejoinder or a prod to his shoulder when he’s ‘not putting in enough elbow grease’ scrubbing the dishes. And sometimes, he begins to hope, her teasing gets just a tinge of flirtatiousness.

After a month, Harry finally asks, “So you’re here alone?”

“ That’s not something a serial murderer would say,” Ginny says with a smirk, refilling another napkin holder.

“No, I mean, for closing.”

Surprisingly, Ginny flushes a bit, her voice only wavering a bit as she begins to speak before strengthening as she squares her jaw, daring him to comment. “Well, that first night, my - our - help called in sick. And then eventually you were so regular I figured why make Francis stay and pay someone when we handled it fine enough.”

“So you’re taking advantage of my free labor.”

“Hardly free partner ,” Ginny teases, filling another holder.

Harry laughs and the shop falls into silence as they go through the motions of closing, now something of a choreographed dance between them.

It’s comfortable and yet Harry feels a weight on him, words running up his throat from somewhere he’s not even really conscious of. Repressing it begins to feel pointless - why wouldn’t he just say it? What’s the harm? Part of him wonders at his trust of Ginny after only a month, but it’s really longer than that, when he thinks about it. And if he spends one more day of his life living in constant apprehension of betrayal, of someone else leaving him or letting him down - maybe Sirius was right.

Bastard.

“Ginny?”

She rises from her crouch behind the counter, ponytail askew and a slash of flour across her cheek, hiding her freckles in a dusting of powder. “Yes?”

“Did you ever - how did you know when to retire?”

Ginny pushes flyaways from her face and disappears into the kitchen, which is really not a particularly fun reaction to receive after finally drumming up courage to ask. But she returns soon enough with a few mismatched slices of pie. “We can eat the mistakes - or the rejects I suppose - and have a chat,” Ginny smiles and gestures to one of the tables without the chairs stacked, “Grab a seat.”

Harry does as she instructs and sighs. It had been a long day, more death, more horror, more of the worst of humanity. If he’s honest, which is something Harry’s really working on, it feels like that’s all his life is. Arabella’s is an escape of sorts. And Ginny is - something else entirely.

“So my retirement? You’re not investigating me for some murder, right?” Ginny asks, pulling a slice from the tray and biting into it with a sigh, “We make good pizza.”

“No, I - I’ve just been thinking,” Harry fiddles with his napkin and finally selects a slice of pizza absently, heedless of the mushrooms he really doesn’t like. Maybe the fidgety nature of pulling them from the pie will calm his nerves. “I’ve been realizing maybe I’m not happy.”

Ginny raises her brows but doesn’t interrupt as he continues, “Before I felt like I had a purpose, a reason to be doing what I was doing. Beyond just being good at it.”

“Even after?”

“Yeah - I felt a pull even after we caught Riddle, like my work wasn’t finished,” Harry answers, thoughtful, “But lately it feels more like a placeholder, like I’m just doing it to do it.”

“You’re unhappy.”

“I mean - it feels odd to say it ever made me happy ,” Harry laughs, dry, “But I was fulfilled in a strange way, had a purpose, you know?”

Ginny shakes some red pepper flakes onto her pizza and considers him for a moment, her eyes softened, before she responds. “My career wasn’t the same as yours, but I think you know when it’s time for a change. Even if you don’t want to see it. Even when it’s scary to see. You invest your life, you devote everything to being the best. It feels mad to leave it all behind.”

“And yet you did.”

She scoots her chair closer and leans her head onto his shoulder, like they’re meant to slot together. “Isn’t it madder to leave things the same and stay unhappy?”

The shop looks different by daylight, Harry notices. Less intimate. And it’s odd too. He’s never been in a shop completely alone during the day. Or really at all, since his nights spent at Arabella’s are never without Ginny except when he takes the rubbish out.

Dull considerations like the oddity of sitting alone are all he has to keep his mind busy, to prevent himself from bouncing around with wild energy or calling and taking everything back.

But he’s not one for backpedalling, especially when he’s spent so much time and energy in moving forward.

And yet, it feels like a part of him is missing. But instead of the fear of a phantom limb, he feels weightless, like he’s thrown away everything holding him back.

Back from what, he’s not really examining too closely, so for now - well it’s -

The door opens with a ring of the bell and Ginny’s low, warbling hums reach him in the dining area. “Alright Gin?”

“Fu- ” Ginny drops her keys and grumbles, “You scared me, arsehole.”

“I tried not to.”

“Sure,” Ginny drawls, “Now what are you doing here? Please don’t tell me someone was murdered in our kitchen.”

Harry laughs and nearly chokes on his tongue when Ginny presses a kiss to his cheek. “Nah, I’m on holiday.”

“And you’re here.”

“I heard this place has the best garlic knots,” Harry says, following Ginny as she moves toward the combination supply closet and back office.

“Surprised you know how to find this place in daylight,” Ginny teases, jabbing her elbow into his side.

“Arabella’s cats are a bit creepier in the full light.”

“Don’t I know it,” Ginny says, wry, “I think Gingersnap’s eyes follow me.”

“Did you ever ask why a black cat was named Gingersnap,” Harry asks as Ginny opens the safe and pulls the register tray free.

“Maybe Arabella was so bad at making ‘em they always burnt.”

Harry laughs and in the privacy of his mind admits he follows Ginny around like a lost puppy as she preps for the day. So he’s pretty close behind when she turns and tosses a pinny in his face. “If you’re going to hang about at least pull your weight.”

“Where’s Franny?”

“Don’t bring her into this.”

“I just worry after the wellbeing of those in my employ.”

Ginny scoffs. “She’s on holiday from uni, went home to Kent.”

“Just in time to miss London’s lovely Grey Christmas,” Harry laughs, wrapping the apron strings around his middle and glancing out at the looming clouds overhead, the puddle riddled streets.

“Posh boy used to wintering in exotic locales, can’t handle a good ol’ fashioned London winter,” Ginny teases, “Keep your complaining inside and pitch in, put that fit body to good use.”

Shoving Ginny’s shoulder, Harry disappears into the kitchen and begins checking the prepped dough and running down Ginny’s list of morning tasks.

He’s just finished warming up the espresso machine when Ginny returns from her paperwork in the back room. Their gazes lock for a moment and Harry feels like he’s been caught out at something, not that he was even doing anything. Except perhaps daydreaming a bit about Ginny returning his sad secret feelings and ending their usual teasing banter with snogs instead of flicks to the nose.

But it seems Ginny is not clairvoyant, or at least not owning it quite yet when she says, “S’nice having you around. I actually get paperwork done before eleven at night.”

“Well,” Harry takes a deep breath and ruffles his hair, “Get used to it.”

“Get used to - ” Ginny narrows her eyes and steps closer, “Why?”

“I had a lot of vacation time saved up,” Harry begins, focusing acutely on the grinder, “And I wrapped that case - the human trafficking one,” Ginny nods her understanding and Harry continues, “And so I called in my days and uh. I gave notice.”

She gapes. “You - ”

He puffs out his chest, feeling accomplished at rendering Ginny nearly speechless, “Done. I’m out. That was my last one. Just a few exit interviews after the New Year and then, adios.”

Ginny considers him for a moment, unreadable as she almost seems to reach for him, and then shakes her head. “You’re such a stalker.”

“Excuse me?” Harry yelps with a grin, pressing his palm to his chest.

“Everyone knows you were a Ginny Weasley super fan,” Ginny raises one finger, “And that you had a thing for me back before uni,” Harry flushes as she plows ahead, “Add in the fact that your godfather orchestrated this little ‘surprise’ partnership,” she shakes her head, “You’ve probably been collecting my hair for a doll at your flat.”

���Excuse me, it’s a puppet.”

“How’s my godson slash entrepreneur?” Sirius barks as he pushes the front door open with his hips.

“Working like a dog, paying for any sins I may have ever committed,” Harry growls, hands elbow deep into dough.

Sirius scans him head to toe with an ever-growing smirk, “You’re welcome.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot high up into his hairline, fists already constricting around the piece of dough he’d been working on. If there’s ever anyone’s fault for what he’s been feeling over the past weeks, the tension and frustration battling in his chest, in his mind, ready to explode in his face the next time she smiles or says something cheeky or simply exists in his presence.

“Don’t start making faces,” Sirius points a finger at him as Harry’s on the verge of snapping back, “I know you when you’re happy. I changed your nappies, don’t you forget that you ungrateful godson of mine.”

And to that Harry doesn’t have much to say. Sirius is right, as much as Harry’d like to deny it.

“So you quit,” Sirius plows on after a pause.

Harry takes a moment then shrugs, “Yeah, it was time, I guess.”

“Good for you. And now - how are things?”

“What do you mean?”

Sirius quickly looks at Ginny absorbed by paperwork and winks, grin, and ultimately nudges Harry.

Harry’d like to send dough spiralling at his godfather’s head.

He’d like that very much indeed.

“There’s nothing there, Sirius,” he mutters.

“Aha,” Sirius snorts. “Then tell me this: if you’re not fueled by sexual frustration right now then why are you groping and playing with that roll of dough like it’s something else?”

Harry feels himself go scarlett, blood boiling in his ears.

“Out. Now.”

“Don’t I get a pizza for my efforts?” Sirius grins.

“Out before I kick you,” Harry barks, wipes his hands on a piece of cloth, ready to take his godfather by the collar before he mocks him even further.

No one pushes his buttons quite like family.

“What about my family discount?”

There’s a freshly baked pizza sliding down the front door as Sirius leaves in a fit of pleased laughter, Harry fuming on the other side of the shop.

“Should I ask?” Ginny raises her head from around the stack of papers, eyebrows raised, pen in her mouth.

“No,” Harry says, clipped, and marches back to his station.

Naturally, they thought hanging a Buy one, get one free sign on their door would be splendid for their business and any small business owner’s drive to build a faithful community around their shop.

It proves, however, that as great this move is for their business, it is also horrid for their poor wrists, as they hurt after rolling pizza after pizza, for their cheeks (Harry fears that fake smiling 24/7 might give him a paresis), and, if everyone’s being fair, for their mental health and general libido levels. It should be noted that tension, as well as flour, can be cut with a knife.

“Think we should hire help?” Harry asks after the upteenth time he coughs on flour.

A relieved sigh, “Thought you’d never ask. We definitely need one of those people that can naturally smile non-stop, know what I mean? Because if I have to grin like a loon for one more customer, I’m officially out.”

Harry scans her closely and pouts a little.

“Would you really?”

“Would I what?”

“You know, leave me?”

She doesn’t spare him a glance, fully concentrated on adding extra cheesy on an already cheesy pizza.

“Are we together now, Potter?”

“Let’s not hide behind those floury fingers, Weasley, I saw you checking out my arse,” Harry huffs, watching her curiously out of the corner of his eye.

Ginny laughs wholeheartedly for a beat, cheese and pizza forgotten.

“Harry, Harry, if that’s how easy it is for a girl to get you, then you must’ve had a million relationships because that bum is super tight.”

Harry feels himself blush, chest warming on the inside.

“So’s - erm, so’s yours.”

“Well, if we’re doing this,” Ginny grins cheekily, “so are your eyes.”

It’s Harry’s turn to grin, he’s very pleased.

“My eyes are tight?”

“Don’t be a prick. Your eyes are pretty,” she sticks out her tongue at him, resuming her pizza making.

A pause, tense and vibrant.

“So is your hair. And your freckles. And the way you look when you’ve got your mind set on something,” Harry mumbles at first but manages to finish in a more confident note, eyeing her from behind his round specs.

Ginny takes a moment for herself, rubs her nose then turns around to look at Harry with the very look he mentioned. That hard, blazing look that starts a fire within him and sends his thoughts twisting and turning into dangerous places.

“Your messy hair, your little smirk when you’re pleased with yourself. You.”

Harry’s completely forgotten about customers trundling in, orders upon orders to be delivered or anything else for that matter. All he has the wit to say is a feeble “oh.”

A wall of tension thickens and threatens to crush them, each staring at the other, each holding their position, feet firmly on the ground, cheeks flushed and hearts beating wildly.

“It’s hot in here,” Ginny remarks, dry.

“Yeah. I know.”

“So bloody hot,” she speaks again, still yet daring.

Harry can hear himself breathe hard, “The - uh, ovens.”

A minute passes and, as it drags its heavy legs to the finish line, Harry hears rather than sees Ginny laugh a bit to herself, throw away the piece of cloth she used to clean her hands and stride over to him.

“Yeah, I can’t handle it. Thought I could, but I can’t,” Ginny sighs and informs the room at large.

“So why are you unbuttoning my shirt?” Harry manages to underline before his brain explodes at the touch of her smooth fingers over the skin of his chest.

“Helping?”

She’s undeterred as she speaks, rather absently while her fingers work every button, one after the other until his shirt lays open and their gazes lock.

Harry barks a laugh, “Try again?”

“You’ve got a spot,” Ginny shrugs, fingers mapping the length of his chest.

Harry closes his eyes, draws in a breath. He lets it out in a shudder.

“So’ve you.”

There’s barely a second between his words and the moment Ginny’s legs lock around him, his hands supporting her on the table top, they’re mouths kissing hard and fast. Kissing, licking, grazing, biting in a tangle of hair and flour and pizza everywhere.

Harry’d like to say something clever and sassy but he’d like to keep kissing Ginny even more. And more. And more until her tongue is in his mouth and her palms moving in circles on his bare chest and his fingers knotted in her ginger hair.

He feels they’re melting into each other, limbs glued together like mold, fire blazing, scorching.

It’s more than any of them can take.

“Move this elsewhere?” Ginny gasps between kisses.

“Do we really have to?” Harry breathes, pants.

“Unless you wanna risk a citation from the Health Department,” she giggles into his ears, giggles that turn into full on laughter when he lifts her in the air, carries her into the pantry, locks the door.

Laughter that turns into moaning when their lips meet again behind closed doors.

[twotwinks]

a thing i was tagged in a long time ago by @rochc93. i am, believe it or not, attempting to catch up on these things. i always intend to do them but it’s either not a good time when i think about them or i’m not thinking about them. sorry i’m a mess

Who were you named after?

First name, nobody bitch. That’s all me. Middle name, like twenty different characters who are important to me but all on accident because I didn’t realize we shared the name until after I’d picked it. Notable instances include Rita Rose Vrataski from Edge of Tomorrow and also Amy Rose (a recent discovery). Last name, Gary King and also because I like confusing people about my gender by deliberately using a “male” title while presenting female (though hopefully not for much longer) and also being nonbinary. (Also s/o to ladies who call themselves king instead of queen. Yes I’m thinking of Kagamine Rin in the WanOpo songs Death Should Not Have Taken Thee and Our Adventure Log Has Vanished.)

Last time you cried?

two weeks ago to the day, when my dad let our dog Koko get hit by a car, things have been Extra Bad around here since then

Do you like your handwriting?

No. When I was little everyone always used to tell me how pretty it was but then I started trying to be a Serious Writer and my penmanship degraded as a result of how fast I had to get the words out of my head. Now my mom whines all the time about how messy and illegible my writing is.

What is your favorite lunch meat?

TURKEY

Longest relationship?

Umm....about two years ago for about three months-ish? I think? Maybe two months? I don’t know, we were dating for Christmas and then I broke up with him right before Valentine’s Day because my mental health couldn’t take it. I realized I was aro shortly after. Who would’ve guessed, huh?

Do you still have your tonsils?

Yep!

Do you bungee jump?

no and i never will

What is your favorite kind of cereal?

Dude this changes like monthly. Sometimes Honey Bunches of Oats. Sometimes Frosted Flakes. Sometimes I get a ridiculously strong craving for Strawberry Awake or Lucky Charms or Honey Nut Cheerios. I just get to eat cereal so infrequently that I can’t really have a favorite, I just have to indulge whatever craving I currently have because I only get the chance to eat one box every three months or so.

Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?

Yes because when I was little my mom ingrained into me that not untying my shoes first would ruin the backs of them way faster than they should. In all fairness we were poor and couldn’t afford to buy me new shoes that often because my feet are so sensitive that an actual comfortable pair costs $100.

Do you think you’re strong willed?

oh fuck no i mean have you ever spoken to me??? i’m the biggest baby pushover to ever live

Favorite ice cream?

Either that Death by Chocolate stuff they serve at Purdue’s dining courts sometimes or mint chocolate chip. It has to be green though or it loses something sdkhsdhk

What is the first thing you notice about a person?

Usually like their shirt, I guess? I don’t know, this isn’t something I’ve ever really thought about. Maybe it’s also if they have one of those annoying faces or voices. Or if they have a queer vibe. Look I’m not good with people ok.

Football or baseball?

Football but only because marching band and/or soccer

Favorite doughnut?

Okay this is going to sound weirdly specific but. Chocolate cake donut with chocolate frosting and rainbow sprinkles. Also on a related note I once let a girl in high school copy my homework (that I myself had found the answers to on the internet, it was a really unfair English assignment). She was so happy that she said she’d buy me a donut for breakfast the next day (she made a donut run for herself once a week as a special treat). I gave her my oddly specific request, but since I knew it was kind of a rare donut to find I told her anything chocolate would work. The next day, lo and behold, she showed up with the perfect donut. She had them make it special for me (insert Discord’s pleading face emoji). That was the day I learned my lesson about judging “dumb blondes”.

What music are you listening to?

I’ve been back into Touhou doujin arrangements again lately, especially eurobeat. However I’m also hyperfixating on Sonic the Hedgehog again so the game soundtracks and the Crush 40 albums are starting to show up in my frequent rotation on Spotify.

If you were a crayon, what color would you be?

The obvious choice is mint green but I could also very easily be a lime green or a glittery ruby slippers red.

Who was the last person you talked to on the phone?

I believe I talked to my grandma a little bit on my mom’s phone not that long ago? Other than that according to my phone it looks like I took a call from my dad back in April?

Hair color?

that real deep almost black brown. i nearly got into a fistfight with some boys in second grade who insisted my hair was black. it’s not black it’s just very thick. it actually looks much lighter if you just separate a smaller chunk and look at it.

Eye color?

Hazel. Brown with some green flecks. Or possibly green with some brown flecks. Also both of my irises look different up close but you can’t tell unless you’re really up in my face.

Favorite food to eat?

pasta but it can’t have red sauce

Scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings all the way

Last film you watched in the cinema?

do you really expect me to remember this. i honestly do not fucking know. i have no brain when it comes to movie theaters. i was gonna do a double feature of birds of prey and the sonic movie the tuesday before spring break (cheap prices for students!!!) but i ended up having a headache that day so i couldn’t go and then shit hit the fan and there was no theatergoing. i have tried and failed to get my parents to rent the sonic movie since. i’m very unhappy about it now that i’m hyperfixating again.

What color shirt are you wearing?

well i think it used to be white but it’s really old so now it’s like off-white. also it has a big snake on the back. i don’t even like snakes i just enjoy this shirt.

Favorite holiday?

Christmas!!! I don’t necessarily actually enjoy celebrating the holiday (thanks fam) but I love the idea behind it and the aesthetics. Also it’s peppermint season!

Beer or wine?

Listen I am super picky about alcohol. I haven’t liked any of the wine I’ve tried, but the first two wines I had other people told me it was bad (and then they took me out and bought me alcohol I would actually like because I’d never drank before and apparently getting me tipsy in Ireland over spring break was an Honor for them I literally didn’t pay for a single drink that night) and the third wine I had was paired with the wrong type of food (we couldn’t get the Right wine bottle open). I didn’t really mind the beer I tried in Ireland though, so I guess beer? I really like cider best though, and apparently I can also handle vodka.

Night owl or morning person?

night owl i wish i could be nocturnal

Favorite day of the week?

Friday. It has all the joy and anticipation of the coming weekend without the curse of my dad being home or the responsibility of homework looming over everything.

Favorite animal?

HEDGEHOG yeah i never really got past that from when i was little. but i also just love pretty much all animals. except like. snakes and spiders but sometimes snakes have their moments.

Do you have a pet?

Yeah. We have a lot of “family” pets but I consider Patches (cat) and Gabby (dog) to be Mine Specifically. If my mom hadn’t forced me out of therapy I’d probably be bringing Patches with me to college next year as an emotional support animal.

Where would you like to travel?

Europe babey. I just wanna hang out in France and England and Scotland and also go back to Ireland. I miss Ireland so much y’all.

ok that’s it. that’s all for this one. i’m not tagging anyone because i’m sure it’s already made the rounds among everyone. but if it missed you and you still wanna do it go for it. consider yourself tagged. poof.

[omgjasminesimone]

Homecoming Part 4

Author’s Note: We’re nearing the end! Just one more part after this I think.

Summary: Bryce and Casey attend Abigail’s wedding. They both drink too much. 

Word Count: ~ 3600

Previous Part: Part 3

Next Part: Part 5

Bryce sighs dramatically as he takes a seat at the long dinner table. It has been quite a long day and he just wants to get back to Casey and his hotel room.

Ryan had set a very early appointment for the tux rental fitting, followed with an awkward breakfast with all the groomsmen. Bryce knows most of them from prep school, and Francis is a groomsman too, but he doesn’t like any of these people, so he would have much preferred brunch with Casey.

Bryce was distracted during the rehearsal, thinking about what Casey might be doing at the moment. She told him she was going to go on one of the hotel excursions, a hike to Manoa Falls. He wanted to text her throughout the day, but knew she likely didn’t have cell reception.

His entire family was at the rehearsal, and it was the first time he’s had to interact with them without Casey as a buffer the whole trip.

It was almost unbearable. His mother was completely overbearing, seemingly in charge of every aspect of this wedding and directing the rehearsal like some kind of deranged dictator.

Francis and his father brought up the real estate business at every opportunity, but he ignored them to the best of his ability.

Maybe worst or all, Abigail has paired him with his ex-girlfriend for all the wedding party duties.

He and Tia dated his senior year of high school, and then two more years while he was at the University of Hawaii. She’s pretty, long blonde hair, big blue eyes, the kind of girl his father approves of. She was probably his first love. He can’t remember exactly why they broke up. He vaguely remembers a huge fight. And that she had cried.

She seems to have forgiven him though, spending most of the time at the wedding rehearsal flirting with him. He brought up his current girlfriend several times, but Tia is undeterred.

Even now, she’s trying to play footsies with him at the dinner table. He moves his foot away subtly.

“Sir, are you ready to order?”

The waitress’ question leads him to glance through the fancy French food on the menu. Ryan’s parents are paying for the rehearsal dinner, and they’ve picked the most expensive French restaurant in Honolulu to showcase their wealth. They can’t be upstaged by Kate Lahela’s opulent displays.

Bryce hates rich people food. “Can your chef make a custom order? Burger and fries?”

The waitress looks taken aback. “Umm... probably?”

Bryce flashes her a megawatt smile. “Thanks.”

She continues around the table, collecting more orders. Bryce pulls out his phone, sending a text to Casey.

Bryce: how was your hike?

He immediately sees the dots indicating she’s responding.

Casey: Amazing!!! ❤️❤️❤️

A series of photos follow, the breathtaking views from her hike making him smile.

Bryce: glad you had fun. hope you weren’t too lonely 😔

Casey: I wasn’t lonely. You know how easy it is for me to make friends.

Casey: I met a couple on their honeymoon and they let me hang out with them.

Casey: They even invited me to dinner. We went to this Italian place and the pasta was soooo good. 🤤

Bryce: and what are you doing now?

Casey: Took a long shower, and now I’m in bed watching A Star is Born.

Casey: Lady Gaga is so talented.

Bryce: in bed? what are you wearing?

Bryce: (hoping you’re naked) 🤞🏽

Casey: Not naked, but I’m in that teddy that you like. I’m waiting for you to come rip it off me.

Bryce bites his lip, reading her last message again.

A photo comes through, Casey posed seductively in the bed in that deep red silk teddy. It’s not a selfie.

Bryce: who took this?!

Bryce: is that couple with you?

There’s a slight pause before he sees she’s typing again.

Casey: I used the timer you jealous dork. 😂

Bryce chuckles a little under his breath, his jealousy dispelling. He scrolls back up to the photo, eyes scanning over her greedily.

His uncle lets out a low whistle, glancing at his screen. “Damn Bryce, you did good.”

Bryce flushes and immediately pockets his phone, his uncle Tito chuckling beside him.

Dinner takes forever, countless speeches by friends and family about the bride and groom. His own speech is short and to the point. After what feels like eternity, but is really 3 hours, he’s finally able to get in his rental car and head back to the hotel.

He practically jogs from the elevator to their room, shoving his keycard in the door impatiently.

“Baby, I’m home-” He begins, trailing off when he sees she’s asleep. She’s snoring softly and the tv is still on, bathing her in a blue glow.

He turns off the tv, shrugging out of his suit jacket. After a quick shower, he climbs into bed beside her, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her forehead before falling into a deep slumber. He dreams about returning to Boston in just two days time. He’s ready, he’s had more than enough family time.

...

..

.

Bryce arrives at the church where Abigail and Ryan will be married very early in the morning. He’s unsure why his mother insisted on such an early time, since the men all spend the time awkwardly sitting around after getting ready in less than 30 minutes. He can only assume it takes the women longer.

When Abigail, his mother, and the bridesmaids are finally ready, it’s time for photos. They must take over a thousand photos, moving around the church, then outside the church, and then, hey, why don’t we get a view of the ocean, now how about a view of the church? It’s never ending, and he’s exhausted.

They finally get a lunch break, food laid out on the picnic tables outside the church. He can’t help but laugh as his sister delicately tries to eat some pineapple without ruining her lipstick. She’s covered her dress with a large bib to ensure it remains pristine and white.

“Abs, want me to chew it for you? Then I can regurgitate it into your mouth like a mama bird.” He jokes.

She flips him her middle finger, with a perfectly manicured French tip, and continues to slice the pineapple into minuscule pieces with a knife.

Tia tosses her lunch trash and approaches the table where he’s sitting alone. All morning, she’s been using the photos as an excuse to hang all over him, somehow almost always managing to end up on his arm.

“I saw some guests heading in when I went to the bathroom. Almost time to get this show on the road. We’re almost free!” Tia exclaims excitedly.

Bryce quirks a small smile. “You really should have declined her bridesmaid invitation. You know how our mom is. There was no way she wasn’t turning into a complete momzilla and making this whole process a living hell.”

“You didn’t refuse either.” She points out.

“They didn’t give me much of a choice.” Bryce insists.

“Well, it’s not all bad. I like these blue bridesmaid dresses. And I do get to hang out with you.” She grips his arm.

He peels her off. “Tia, I told you. I have a girlfriend.”

“A girlfriend isn’t a wife.” She retorts, winking cheekily.

“No, but one day she’ll be my wife. Casey is the one.”

Tia looks more hurt by that than he expected. The hurt on her face is quickly replaced with anger, and she storms away from him.

“Well damn, I guess Bria isn’t happening.” Abigail laments, throwing away the packaging from her lunch.

He rolls his eyes at the old couple name she used to call them. “Why would you pair me with her Abs? You knew I had a girlfriend.”

“To be fair, I hadn’t met Casey yet, so my loyalty was 100 percent with my girl Tia. I really like Casey though, I think she’s good for you. But it’s too late to change the pairings for walking down the aisle now, so just grin and bear it.”

“I’ve been grinning and bearing all day.” He retorts.

She smiles at him sadly. “Yeah, me too.”

Bryce becomes uncharacteristically serious. His little sister can always bring out his protective side. “Abigail, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, our parents would love if I pulled a runaway bride. Can you imagine what all those hundreds of guests would say? ‘First, she gets knocked up as a teen, now she runs away from her very appropriate and wealthy fiancé, what’s wrong with that Abigail Lahela?’” She chuckles mirthlessly.

“Who cares what they’ll say? You don’t even have to stay here. You and Haku could move in with me in Boston. I have a guest room.”

“Bryce, I’m a big girl now. It’s time to get out on my own. Ryan is a good guy. He treats me well and this is an important business connection. I married for love before, and that didn’t work out too great for me.”

“Wow Abs. They’ve really brainwashed you. You sound just like our parents.”

“Whatever Bryce.” Abigail mutters before heading back over to her bridesmaids.

They go back into the bride’s and groom’s dressing rooms in the church, retouching makeup and preparing to finally walk down the aisle.

The wedding coordinator Mrs. Lahela hired appears. She looks frazzled, like she can’t wait to get paid and be done with this wedding. “It’s go time people.”

The wedding party splits into their assigned pairs. Haku fidgets nervously at Bryce’s side. He puts a reassuring hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “You’re going to be a great ring bearer kid.”

Traditional Hawaiian music starts playing. This is something their dad was against, but Abigail managed to get him to agree to her being in charge of one thing at her own wedding, the playlist.

Francis and Gabrielle are the first pair down the aisle. A few more pairs go before it’s Bryce’s turn. He offers Tia his arm, and she smiles at him.

They walk down the long aisle, to where Ryan is standing at the altar. They split off from each other, Bryce joining the groomsmen behind Ryan.

Bryce searches the room for Casey as the maid of honor and best man conclude the aisle walk.

He spots her in the aisle seat of the fourth row. She’s so beautiful, in a silver strapless gown that hugs her in all the right places. Her curls are up in a delicate updo, light makeup accentuating the look. He has no idea how he got so lucky with her. He throws her a flirtatious wink, and she blows him a kiss in return.

Haku and the flower girls, who are Lahela cousins, walk down the aisle. Haku stands beside Ryan and he claps his soon to be stepson on the shoulder reassuringly.

Finally, the wedding march starts. Abigail comes down the aisle on her father’s arm. Bryce has to stop himself from scoffing at the smug look on Aoloa’s face. He’s probably already counting the money this union will bring him.

…

..

.

The reception is held immediately following the ceremony at the Lahela mansion. Bryce grabs a drink from cocktail hour in the formal dining room before heading out to the backyard.

His mother has really outdone herself. There are literally peacocks strolling around. Twinkling lights and lanterns add to the party atmosphere. A large tent is set up, with a dance floor and dinner tables.

Bryce strolls over to the tables, frowning when he sees a place card for Mr. Bryce Lahela on an elevated table at the front of the tent. Not only does the Mr. instead of Dr. bother him, he also wants to sit with Casey, not the wedding party.

He feels like he’s barely seen her over the last two days. He spots her at one of the circular tables where she’s currently sitting alone since most of the guests are still at cocktail hour. She’s sipping on a tropical cocktail.

He takes the seat beside her, glancing at the place card. Mr. Joseph Grant, an older gentleman who owns a private beach and beach club. A notorious bachelor, who will likely spend the entire evening flirting with Bryce’s girlfriend.

He frowns, glancing at the other place cards and seeing that this table is full of Lahela business contacts. His mother could have at least placed Casey with fun people, like his cousins and uncles. Or his friends.

He tosses Joseph’s place card to the ground, claiming the seat for himself.

“Amor, it seems like your mother put a lot of effort into these seating arrangements.” Casey gently chides.

Bryce takes Casey’s hand, placing a kiss to her palm. “Don’t care. I’ve barely gotten to see you baby.”

Casey smiles. “I missed you too. But I’m not going to let you steal Mr. Grant’s seat.”

“Fine.” He stands and easily picks her up, sitting in her seat instead and placing her in his lap.

Bryce kisses her shoulder, and then her neck. Her skin is so soft, and she smells like something he can’t quite place, but it’s flowery. “You smell amazing.”

“I went to the hotel spa this morning and got a scrub. I forgot my purse, so I charged it to the room, but I’m going to pay you back.”

“No, you won’t.” He nibbles below her earlobe. “Very willing to pay for this moment right here.”

Casey laughs, turning slightly so she can capture his lips. “Your mom is glaring at us.”

She is. The guests have started to migrate to the tent, and Mrs. Lahela is sitting at the wedding party table he’s supposed to be at.

“Let her glare.” He rubs gentle circles in her side through the silky fabric of her dress.

“I still want her to like me Amor. You should get back to your seat. Please.”

Bryce frowns, but Casey knows he can’t refuse her anything. “Fine, but you owe me later. Save me a dance.”

She stands so he can leave. “I’ll save you several.”

Before he leaves, Bryce grabs a pen out of Casey’s purse on the floor. He crosses out the Ms. on her place card, replacing it with Dr. “We didn’t go through medical school to not be referred to as Dr.” He reasons.

Casey laughs, kissing him one more time before he walks off.

When he returns to his assigned seat, he uses the borrowed pen to correct his own place card as well. ‘That’s Dr. Bryce Lahela to you.’ he imagines himself retorting if his brother or father bring up the real estate business one more damn time.

…

..

.

The newlyweds’ first dance concludes, Ryan hugging Abigail close and placing a kiss to her forehead.

“And now the dance floor is officially open!” The DJ announces, John Legend’s You and I coming over the speakers.

Bryce is quick to hop down from the wedding party table. Now that dinner, the speeches, and the first dance are all done, he’s finally completed his groomsman duties. Time to actually enjoy himself.

He spots Casey over by the open bar with his uncles. He approaches, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She leans back into his touch.

“Aren’t they adorable?” Tito asks the assembled group. “Definitely more in love than the newlyweds.”

Bryce grins. “Sorry to steal her, but I was promised a dance.”

“And dance we shall, but first peacock selfie!” Casey detangles herself from his arms, pulling him to the edge of the lawn where the peacocks have gathered. “I can’t believe your mom rented peacocks! This is definitely going to be my most liked pictagram photo ever.”

She’s clearly a little drunk. Since he was at the wedding party table all night, he had to settle for the champagne he was expected to drink after every toast. But Casey’s been free to hit the open bar, and he’s watched her take full advantage.

They crouch near the prettiest peacock, Casey fiddling with her phone and struggling to unlock it.

Bryce pulls out his own phone, unlocking it easily and snapping a selfie while he kisses Casey on the cheek.

He shows her the photo. “It’s cute!” She exclaims, so he chuckles and uploads it to his own pictagram account.

“Alright, now we dance.” Bryce declares, intertwining their fingers and leading her back to the dance floor.

The song has changed to Bruno Mars’ Just the Way You Are. Appropriate. “Girl you’re amazing, just the way you are.” Bryce sings in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“I love you Bryce.” Casey says softly when the song ends, hands rising from his shoulders to play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I love you too Casey.” He promises before capturing her lips.

They gently sway to several more songs before Bryce is interrupted by a finger tapping on his shoulder.

“Dearest, so sorry to interrupt but the ambassador’s son is here, and I’ve spent so much time gushing over you that he wants to meet you.” His mother explains, not looking all that sorry to be interrupting.

Bryce sighs irritably. He hates mingling. It’s one of the worst parts about his mother’s parties.

“I’ll be right back.” He promises Casey.

She waves him off. “Take your time.”

…

..

.

Of course, his mother doesn’t just want to introduce him to the ambassador and his family, she parades him around the whole place. Brags about what an accomplished surgeon he is, how proud she is. All for appearances of course, she’d been just as against medical school as his father.

The open bar helps him get through it, stopping to get another drink between each group his mother insists on introducing him to.

He’s more than a little tipsy when he finally manages to slip away almost an hour later, immediately looking for Casey. He spots her at a dinner table, drinking with his friends.

She’s very drunk, he realizes almost immediately. She looks like she’s about to fall asleep at the table.

“What did you guys do to her?” Bryce playfully accuses, taking the seat beside Casey and allowing her to lean on his shoulder.

“She thought she could out drink me. I told her she couldn’t.” His oldest friend announces smugly.

“I’m…. not … conceiting…. confeated…” she mumbles drunkenly.

“Conceding.” Bryce helpfully supplies.

“That! I can out drink you. I just need a little break first. Maybe some water.” She reaches for the water pitcher, knocking it over accidentally.

His friends chuckle as Casey pouts. “Okay Dr. Valentine, time to concede. Let’s get you to bed.” Bryce says before lifting Casey and cradling her to his chest.

“Bed? We’re staying here?” Casey asks, playing with his blue tie as he carries her.

“Well you sure as hell can’t drive. And I’m a little drunk too.” He explains, entering the house and carefully climbing the steps towards his childhood room.

He gently deposits her on his bed, removing her shoes and clothes. He changes her into his old T-shirt and high school gym shorts. He admires her for a moment, pushing her curls out of her face since her updo has long since come undone.

He’s about to get up, but she grips his arm. “Stay.” She pleads sleepily.

Bryce kisses her forehead. “I’m just going to say goodbye to my friends and my uncles. I’ll be right back.”

Casey nods, yawning and releasing him. She rolls onto her side, and he turns out the lights before leaving the room.

Bryce returns to the backyard just in time for the beer pong tournament his Uncle Tito has started. His mother would never allow this, it’s too low class for her tastes, but she’s turned in for the night. She’s probably chugging a bottle of wine, finally away from prying eyes.

Bryce loves beer pong, so of course he joins. But he’s already tipsy, so he’s not as good as usual. He finds himself missing several shots, being forced to drink more and more as Uncle Tito hits almost all his shots.

An hour later, Bryce is definitely drunk. He stumbles into the house, heading towards the guest bathroom. He’s about to turn the door knob when the door opens, surprising him. Tia crashes into his chest.

He steadies them both by wrapping his arms around her. He’s trapped against the hallway wall, Tia leaning against him.

Tia glances up at him, smiling. “You smell like beer.”

He smiles back, the room is spinning, but he tries to focus. “You smell like vanilla. Are you still using that same perfume?”

“You remembered.” Tia says softly, her hands tightening in his white dress shirt.

Suddenly she leans up, aggressively pressing her lips to his.

If he was sober, he would have stopped this immediately. Pushed her away and quickly returned to Casey, the love of his life. But he’s so drunk. And her lips feel nice, and taste like the strawberry lip gloss she was always so fond of.

He kisses Tia back, hands tangling into her hair. Her blonde tresses are silky and smooth, so different from Casey’s dark curls. And that’s enough to break the drunken spell. To make him realize what he’s doing. That he’s cheating on Casey.

Glass shatters at the exact moment that he pulls away.

Bryce’s wide eyes meet Casey’s. The glass of water she was bringing to his room shattered on the expensive tile floor.  

…

..

.

Author’s Note: You’re probably wondering why I did this. And to be honest, I’m wondering the same thing. But the idea just came to me and I wanted some angst and conflict. 

Taglist:  @octobereighth @sibella-plays-choices @hazah @akrenich @lovehugsandcandy @professorortegasstudent @regina-and-happiness @brightpinkpeppercorn @choicesarehard @lizeboredom @desiree-0816 @hellooliviaolivia @dreaming-of-movies @friedherringclodthing @weaving-in-words @fairydustandsarcasm @goldenjellyfish12 @pessimystic-fangirl @mimikoasahina @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl  @god-save-the-keen @caroldxnvxrs @cora-nova

[cherries-n-rocknroll]

BUCKET LIST || chapter 5

Previous chapter // Click here for the series masterlist

Wow, I’m so sorry this took forever. I was just not feeling it. This as 4.5k words chapter and it’s mainly fluff (and a little bit of angst). See, I can do other things too. Also, it’s very dialogue driven. The dress in the upper right corner is the dress I had in mind for reader when they go to the museum. Also, I want to give you a little assignment, can you figure out which museum/gallery they visited? Since it’s based on a real existing museum. Hint: it’s in somewhere in Rome and the pictures might give you some hints too. Okay now I basically spoiled it

Chapter 5 ’The Art of The After’ 

The morning after

“Good morning,” Roger whispered in a sleepy voice, turning to face you.

“Hi,” you reacted, eyes squished into lines to shut them from the light. “did you sleep well?” What a boring line to start of the day you thought.

You were lying on your side, you usually slept like that. It was the most comfortable position in your opinion. Roger, on the other hand, had almost pushed you off the bed with his starfish-like sleeping, making an absolute mess of the bed.

“It couldn’t be better,” he said “you?”

“Uhm…good.”

“Great,” he said without looking at you. He was just staring at the ceiling. Hands resting on his stomach.

“About…last night,” Roger began.

“Well that happened didn’t it?” you interrupted.

“Pffff. Yep,” he huffed, plopping his lips on the p.

After that it went completely silent for a few minutes before Roger spoke up again. “You don’t regret I do you?” he said, a hint of concern in his voice.

“I…don’t?” you said a little hesitantly, frowning your eyebrow, sunken into thought. You didn’t regret it. It was Roger. You would give him your right kidney if it came down to it. But maybe that was the problem. You would do almost anything for him. You wanted to be with him, you really did. But the thought that it could maybe, possibly end in you two being mortal enemies made you want to curl up in a corner and cry. You didn’t want to lose your buddy.

On the other hand, you thought, life is to short to worry about these kinds of things.

“Really?” He said, pulling you out of your brief daydream. Roger furrowed his eyebrows, a relieved look on his face.

“Really.” you reacted

“Are we… are we good then?”

“Definitely,” you said. Wow, this is awkward… you thought.

“So… what are we now? A…couple?”

“Well, uhm…let’s uh…let’s take things slow okay?” You liked him, obviously, and you wanted to give it a shot, but you also didn’t want to rush things.

“Slow?!” He almost yelled. “Y/N we had sex! I’m pretty sure we’re past the whole let’s take things slow part.”

“I just…have to…think about…this, us, okay Rog?” you said, slightly raising your voice, moving your hands in the process.

“Sure love,” he said. He sounded annoyed, just a bit. Then you grabbed his face with both hands and gave him a kiss. Roger moved along, turning onto his side, but he couldn’t help but feel a little confused in that moment.

“You know, I love it when you call me that,” you mumbled against his lips trying to brighten the mood.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, scrunching your nose.

“What other things do you want me to call you, huh?” He hummed, pulling away slightly so that he could make proper eye contact with you.

“Oh let’s not go there.” you chuckled.

“Oh, really? Do you have dirty secrets miss Y/L/N?” He asked, his lips pulling up into a smug grin.

“Not answering that.” you giggled and you turned to lie on your back so that you didn’t have to look at him, a devious grin on your face.

“Well, now I sure as hell want to know,” he growled, and then he started to tickle you. Attacking your tummy with his rough fingers, recklessly moving them over your skin. Causing you to laugh so hard that your muscles started to ache. “Tell me Miss Y/L/N, or I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

“Noohoo fuck you!…. I’m not….telling you.” You said between almost hysterical laughter.

“Fine! But I will find out,” Roger said and he pulled up one eyebrow, his blue eyes not leaving yours.

“You might.” You retorted in a sassy tone.

And with that, you swung the sheets of off you and stepped out of the bed in one swift motion. Rogers gaze didn’t leave your body, eyes gliding over your back. Noticing the line of your spine, the curve of your waist, and the little indents on your lower back. Damn you were beautiful. No, you were perfect.  

You grabbed your shirt of the ground and slipped it over your head. What was going to happen now? It was worth the shot. Because if last night was an indication, this definitely had potential.

“Hey, …about that uhm…that list that we, or well…you…made.” he pulled you out of your thoughts. And you quickly put on your knickers. Feeling a little self-conscious all of a sudden.

“Yes, what about it?”

“Maybe we could check some off the list while we’re here?”

“Like what?”

“Like… skinny dipping. Just a wild guess that you’ve never done that.”

“with the entire group?! No way!” you exclaimed.

“I thought that…maybe we could…go together.”

“Cheeky bastard!” You chuckled “Was tonight not enough naked for you?”

“I could look at you all day y/n. You’re a sight for sore eyes. So no, tonight was not enough. I’ll never get enough of you.”

“I’ll think about it. Now, I’m going to my room to put on a proper outfit.”

You started walking toward the door, but you got interrupted along the way. “Do you think they heard us, last night?” Roger suddenly said, making you stop.

“O shit! We’re not gonna tell them we’re a thing yet are we?” it slipped out of your mouth so easily, you didn’t even notice it before Roger made a comment.

“Did you just call us a thing?”

“I did, didn’t I?” you said, and immediately you felt your cheeks turning a darker shade of red.

You looked at Roger — who was lying on the bed — one more time before leaving the room. The sheer layer of sweat combined with the light shining through the curtains made it look like his skin was glowing. And with any other person, it would have been gross, but with Roger it was different. it looked great. Sexy.

When you walked out the door and towards the breakfast table outside you could smell all the flowers in the garden.

At the breakfast table, you wanted to sit next to Roger but everyone was already set when you came down. So now you were stuck with a seat between Brian and Deaky. Not that you had a problem with it. They were lovely, but because of obvious reasons, you wanted to sit next to Roger.

“What are the plans?” Brian began while chewing on a piece of apricot.

“I saw that there is a beautiful museum just a few kilometers away,” you suggested. “I do think that we have to make a reservation. It’s pretty popular.”

A teacher had recommended it to you when you told her where you were going. She was lovely, one of your favorites really, a great artist and a joy to listen to.

“Splendid idea. Any objections?” Freddie asked, looking around the table. “No? Okay, great!”

“What should we get?” Emily asked.

You were at the supermarket getting groceries. With seven people, the food stock shrank at a frighteningly quick pace.

“Maybe we could make lasagna?” you suggested.

“Oeeeh, yes, love that.” she reacted enthusiastically.

“We could make it from scratch?”

“That’s awesome! But-” she paused to think. “wait, no we can’t. We’re with seven people!”

“I know,” you said smugly. “I like a challenge now and then. Okay, since we are with seven, we’ll need a big amount of food so we better get going.”

You walked towards the bread aisle when Emily suddenly said something that made you flinch a little. “Is that a hickey?!”

It felt like the entire store had heard her, like everyone was staring at you now, knowing what you had done last night.

Considering the temperature you had chosen to wear a flowy summer dress. Which didn’t cover your shoulders or neck. You had forgotten about the mark that Roger had left since you couldn’t see it without a mirror in front of you. But apparently, other people could easily see it.

“I uh…I bumped…against a shelf last night on my way to the bathroom.” you quickly replied.

“Aah, a shelf, of course.” Couldn’t she even try to act like she believed you?

“Now, we’ll need type 00 flour. Very important!” you said trying to shake off her comment.

You were standing in the kitchen, softly humming a song while the others were outside, probably playing scrabble. 

Your hands were coated in flour and there was some on your face too. Caught up in kneading the big ball of dough you didn’t notice Roger standing in the doorway. You looked so focused, so perfect with the sunlight hitting you in all the right ways. He could see a glimpse of your collarbones and the mark he had left behind. And his mouth curled up into a soft smile.

Your hair was tied up into a messy bun, some strands hanging loose. And you were wearing an apron to protect your white dress from the flour and tomato splatters.

All of a sudden this warm and fuzzy feeling came bubbling up in Roger, something he had never felt before. You looked so perfect, ethereal in a way.

He started walking towards the counter. You noticed his footsteps and looked up from your work.

“Hi,” you said softly

“Hello, my little kitchen princes. What are you making?” He said standing behind you, putting his hands on your hips. It felt so domestic like you were a long time married couple. Which wasn’t the case, at all. It had been a day, but all you wanted to do was to feel his touch against your skin again. And Roger seemed to crave the same thing.

“Pasta. Lasagne to be precise,” you said. “Could you take over?” And you looked at Roger over your shoulder. “My arms are getting a little tired, I think I underestimated this.”

“Sure love,” he said, placing a kiss onto your neck, softly humming against the skin.

“Oh and I need to grab the pasta machine,” you said spinning yourself out of Rogers embrace. Walking away now.

“Do wash your hands first!” You said while doing so yourself, washing away the flour.  

“Yes, ma’am.”

He had said it in such a sarcastic tone, of course he did. That boy kept switching between cheeky asshole and adorable boyfriend mode.

“Watch it, Taylor!” You warned.

“What?!”

You didn’t react, you just gently shook your head while walking away.

The house had very high ceilings and thus there were high cupboards. Ideal for storing lots of kitchen supplies and tableware, but it wasn’t exactly practical when you needed something.

You looked at the box standing on the highest shelf. Standing on your toes wasn’t going to get you far enough. Maybe with a chair?

In the kitchen stood some bar stools and you grabbed one. There were lots of chairs standing around the dinner table but they were definitely too low. So you walked towards him to grab one of the higher bar stools, shortly distracting Roger from his work.

“What ‘you gonna do?”

“Grab the pasta machine,” you answered shortly, already walking away to the other side of the kitchen, dragging the stool with one hand.

Standing on the stool you tried to reach the highest shelf. If you just stood on your tippy toes maybe you could…possibly…grab it.

“You need help?” Roger asked from the other side of the kitchen, seeing you struggle.

You managed to grasp a corner of the box. And you were so focused on it, tongue slightly darting out, that you didn’t notice the stool slightly wiggling underneath you.

“Nope,” you blurted out, eyes pinned on the box. “I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yes…fuck,” you answered in a slightly annoyed voice, swearing under your breath. You weren’t and didn’t want to be some helpless girl. You had too much pride for that. So with all your stubbornness, you continued your mission. You succeeded in shifting the box towards you, but before you knew it the stool started wiggling heavily under your weight. And it took only a split second before it actually tripped over. Taking you and the box with the metal construction with it. And it all fell onto the ground with a loud thud.

“Ouch! fuck fuck fuck,” you muttered, bringing your hand to your head. “I’m fine,” you added.

“You’re bleeding!” Roger yelped, immediately running to you.

He came to sit on his knees and he brought his hand to your face. “You need to watch out for yourself love. I would like to keep you as you are,” he said, looking at you with concerned eyes.

“Sorry, but It’s just my knee. It’s fine.”

“No need to apologize, just be careful, yeah?” He said and he lifted your chin up with one finger, forcing you to look at him. “And don’t be afraid to accept my help,”

“Like you’re any different.”

“Are you calling me out here?”

“Maybe. But I just don’t want to be dependant on anyone. ‘Don’t want to be a helpless little girl.”

“You’re not,“ he said while tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I promise,”

“You’re making me dirty.” you chuckled, scrunching your nose. His hands were coated in flour, now transferring onto your face.

“I’m making you dirty?! Damn right I am,” he said with a grin on his face.

“Not like that Rog,” you laughed, poking a finger into his stomach.

“Auch!” reacted said sarcastically. “But seriously, you’re not weak or helpless! Evah! And I know you find that hard to accept, but again, it’s okay to ask for help sometimes. Doesn’t make you weak.” he said, staring into your eyes again before he placed a soft kiss onto your forehead. You closed your eyes for a second, enjoying the gentleness of his move. It made you melt a little.

“Maybe,” you mumbled and suddenly a sharp sting shot through your leg.

"Shit, it hurts!” you said and suddenly you felt like your 8-year-old self again. Bleeding knees and palms were something from long ago. From a time where you went rollerblading with your sister and rode around on your bike with one wheel.

“let’s patch you up shall we?” Roger said looking at your chaffed knee and hand. “Come on.”  

“I’m fine! I can get up myself. God, I feel pathetic…” you added softly.

“Now stop saying you’re weak and pathetic! Just grab my hand,” he said, slowly getting up, but you pulled him down.

“Wait!”

“Well, you don’t have to. I can also just leave your here on the kitchen fl-” Roger said, but he was cut off mid-sentence by Emily entering the room.

“What’s going on?” she began. “I heard a loud noise.”

“Nothing,” you almost yelled, flinching, realizing how close you and Roger were sitting. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough. You two certainly look cozy.”

“I- just…I fell…and Roger-”

“Yeah…she…she fell.” Roger stuttered while quickly getting up, nervously rubbing over the back of his neck. “I asked her if she needed help but she refused.” You’d never seen Roger look this nervous and awkward before.

“Stupid! You’re bleeding!” she stated.

“It’s fine. Really,” you reassured her.

“Do I need to get the first-aid kit for some bandages?”

“That would be nice, thank you,” you said in a now calmer tone.

You were sitting on the counter, Emily in front of you, your hands on your lap.

“So… what’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing.”

“Really? All of a sudden you’re all over each other.”

“We are just friends Em.”_ just friends_ has never been the most believable thing to say. And this time wasn’t an exception.

“Just friends huh? We! We are just friends! Well, I hope we aren't’ just friends, I mean I love you very much you’re not just a friend to me.” she said. “But not like love interest love.”

“I get it.”

“Just wanted to be sure.”

“I said I get it.”

Then it went silent for a few seconds.

“But still…if you like wanted to…kiss sometime…or something–”

“Please stop.”

“–I would be open for that, in a non-sexual way of course.”

“Okayyyy…”

“–Since we are just frien– “

“let’s do my hand and knee shall we?” you interrupted.

“Yeah let’s do that.”

You walked back into the kitchen only to find Roger trying very hard to figure out how to finish the lasagne.

“Hey, I was gonna do that.”

“Yeah, but since your busted open your palm I don’t think it’s very practical for you to cook now,” he said continuing whatever he was doing.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing Rog?”

“Yes,” he said smugly.

“Can I sit here and command– uhh instruct you?” you flopped out.

“Command me? You would like that huh? Commanding me.” Roger joked and you felt your skin turning red in a frighteningly quick pace. “You really would! You’re blushing!”

Embarrassed you covered your face with your palms.

“Did I just discover a kink?”

“Roger shut up! Maybe someone will hear!”

“You don’t like that then? Other people hearing?”

“Okay, if you keep going I’m leaving,” you warned.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” he said, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Now, I see you managed to put the machine together,” you said, changing the subject.

“Yes, I did,”

“Good. Get the dough and make a big roll out of it!”

He carefully let the dough roll over the marble counter, guiding it with his hands. “Like this?” he asked, looking up at your for confirmation.

“Yes, very good. Next, you need to get a knife and cut it into approximately three parts. F_uck_, I think I did bump my head against the ground. I’m starting to…get a headache.”

Roger finished the lasagne, with a little bit of your help. And turns out, Roger wasn’t such a bad cook after all.

“Is it edible?” Roger whispered to you when you were sitting at the dinner table. You simply couldn’t ignore how adorable he looked and sounded in that moment.

“It’s lovely,” you said, looking at him with a soft gaze.

You were having the hardest time not to give him a soft peck on the lips, but you resisted. The others didn’t know yet after all and kissing him would definitely mean you would have to spill the beans.

Later that evening you sat in the garden with Roger, the sun slowly vanishing behind all the plants. “You think this is going to fast?” you asked. Lying on Rogers’ lap with your head while fidgeting with your cuticles. Roger was sitting against a tree, his head tilted back just a little.

“Us?” he said.

“Yeah,”

“No. Maybe? well, it’s not like we don’t know each other. And like we haven’t sat like this before for example. And for me, it doesn’t feel fast. It’s perfect like this.” He rambled, pausing for a second, staring at you through his lashes. “You are perfect,” he added softly.

“You too. I love you. I’m glad last night happened, to be honest.”

“Me too.”

Silence.

“Close your eyes.” He whispered all of a sudden.

“Why?”

“Just close ‘em,” he said, and he let his hand hover over your face to gently close your eyes. “Listen.” A pause. “What do you hear?”

“Some birds, not a lot, it’s evening.”

“Don’t overthink it.”

“Uhm, some crickets, the wind….my breathing, yours.”

“And what do you feel?”

“Why are you asking me this?” You said, briefly opening your eyes to look at Roger.

“Shhh,” he said, bringing a finger to your lips. “Just experience it.”

“I feel the grass against my feet, it’s a little ticklish; I feel the air; my head hurts a little,” you admitted. “I can feel my clothing. And I feel the heat of your hand against my stomach.” You smiled at that.

“And what do you feel now?” he whispered, bowing down to kiss you.

“Hmmm,” you smiled and murmured against his lips. “I…feel…you. Your…soft…lips.”

Your tongue gently started playing with his and it was so slow and gentle, lazy almost. It made your heart ache but in the best way.

“You taste like nicotine.” You murmured against his lips.

“You hate that don’t you? That I smoke?”

“Yes,” you admitted. “I don’t get why everyone is doing it, it’s gross. You should quit,” you added bluntly.

“It’s not that easy love,” he said, rubbing his finger over the fabric of your dress. And then it was silent again. A peaceful silence. His fingers kept drawing circles over your dress. So soft, so tender, so easy. And your mind started to wander. During moments like this Rogers harsh side sort of seemed to melt away, making him into a gentle and loving boyfriend (if you could call him that now). Something he wouldn’t like to hear, but it was nice, safe.

“You want to sleep under the stars together? Make it good this time?”

“Yeah,” you said in a sleepy voice, barely on this earth anymore. And before Roger knew it he felt your body completely relax. Indicating that you had dozed off into sleep.

 *

A few days later

“Why is the line so long?” Roger whined.

“Because it’s a very well know galleria Roger.”

“You’re speaking Italian now?” he said sarcastically. “Well, don’t be surprised if I’m gone in a few minutes, I’m melting over here.”

“Oh don’t be such a baby. It’s fine. Here, have some water to cool down.” you said, and you let a strap of the backpack slide of your shoulder to grab your isolated water bottle. That thing was your lord and savior during extreme temperatures.

You slid it out of your backpack and enjoyed the cold feeling of the metal radiating against your palms. It was nice to feel something cold against your skin, it was soothing.

Roger was looking the other way, paying attention to something Freddie was saying. And you took the opportunity to place the cold bottle against Rogers’ neck for a second. “Aaaah Jesus Christ woman! You had to do that?! You’ll be the death of me! ‘Almost giving me a heart attack!” he shrieked.

“Thought you wanted to cool down,” you said in a calm voice, trying hard not to chuckle at his dramatic reaction.

“Piss off!” he said, snatching the bottle out of your hands. He looked a little annoyed, but he couldn’t suppress the tiny smile appearing on his face.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he liked these stupid moments were you teased each other, and you did too. It was a bit childish maybe, but fun nonetheless.

“I want some too, so don’t close it yet,” you said. Roger was right… it was indeed incredibly hot.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh piss off, sarcastic asshole.”

“Are you two done teasing each other?” Emily interrupted, and you jumped a little. She shot you a sharp look, giving you an indication of what she was thinking. She definitely knew what was going on between you two, you were sure of it.

“Finally!” Roger said when you entered the building of the gallery. A rush of cold air hit your face, and it was the best feeling after what felt like an hour of waiting.

It was worth the waiting though. Only the building itself was a true piece of art. At first, you didn’t see it, but the ceiling was decorated with a sort of swirling design containing clouds, angels, statues and many other things. It was absolutely stunning, unreal almost. You couldn’t stop looking. There simply was so much to see.

The spiraling compositions made it feel like you got sucked into the artwork, transporting you to a different world. In the middle was what you assumed to be some sort of portrayal of heaven. Showing a figure with beams of light coming from behind. And on the sides were painted statues and pillars. They totally seemed to merge into the actual building. Making it almost impossible to spot the difference between the paint and the actual building.

Sometimes you hated the fact that you knew all these techniques and tricks. It sort of stopped you from looking at art in a normal way, made you overanalyze it sometimes. But on the other hand, it gave you a deeper understanding of it. For instance, with the spiral composition, you knew that it was often used in the period around the 17th century. It added a sense of drama to an artwork, causing the viewer to feel overwhelmed. It was originally a way to lure people to the church. By showing them how beautiful everything could be once in heaven. And that you could only reach it with the help of the church. Although not everyone agreed with that idea.

You flinched when you suddenly heard Emily speak “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” She said.

“yes,” you reacted in awe. It wasn’t the most interesting answer, but you had completely dazed off.

“Roger-”

“If you’re gonna begin about me and Roger again I’m gonna walk away.” You interrupted.

“I was not, but now you’re making me even more suspicious. But what I was gonna say is that Roger and I are gonna go outside for a smoke.”

Shit, now she could ask him questions too.

You were now standing in front of a huge sculpture made completely out of marble. It was unbelievable how it seemed so real. The indents in the skin from finger pressing into it. It blew your mind.

You felt a hand on your waist and you flinched. “Hey, what ya lookin’ at?” Roger said, placing his chin on your shoulder.

“God, why does everyone need to scare me today.”

“Karma for scaring me with that cold ass water bottle of yours this morning.”

“Oh, you’re not gonna tell me you’re still annoyed about that are you?”

“You could never really annoy me,” he said and you chuckled a little.

“Are you enjoying the museum?” You asked.

“It’s cooler than I thought. I’m not that much of a museum person, but this stuff is good.”

“Good? Magnificent! It’s the

crème de la crème

of the art.” you said passionately, making gestures at the statue in front of you.

Roger smiled, you weren’t the most outgoing person. You were generally pretty shy, but when your passionate side came out. Oh boy, you were on fire. The rest of the day was amazing. You were loving all the beauty that surrounded you.

You were currently walking through one of the smaller rooms, Roger by your side. And you were surprised when you felt his hand softly rubbing against yours. His fingers trying to gently grasp your palm. Before you knew it he had succeeded in catching your palm in his and you were now walking through the museum hand in hand. No one said anything. You just walked, and looked, and enjoyed each others company. For a moment, you stood still in front of a particularly beautiful painting. And you couldn’t resist giving Roger a kiss. You quickly scanned the room, no Brian, no Fred, no Deaky, no Emily. Great!

You turned to grab his face, pressing your lips against his, and Rogers hands instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer and-

“Oh…my…god. I WAS RIGHT!”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know your thoughts! It’s very much appreciated. And? Did you figure out which gallery it is? If you did, let me know in the comments.

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[dvbermingham]

Chapter 1: Hamachi

Chapter 1: Alonso

I was coming off one of the worst weeks of my career. My former boss, whom I knew only as Takuto and for whom I’d worked for about six days, was stabbed in more than two places on his torso, and once in the neck region. I found him splayed out like a starfish on the sidewalk down a side street with no street sign. There was a distant sound of running through puddles, and I swear I heard a muted trumpet echoing off the brick apartment buildings somewhere down the block.

As a bodyguard, finding your boss in a pool of his own blood, is generally hailed as the end of your shift.

It was rough. I always thought of myself as a natural guarder of bodies. I get very attached to bodies, whatever type they may be, and if I’m assigned to guard one, well, that protectiveness comes out and I get very difficult to peel off.

I tried not to fault myself too much. I didn’t have much time to get to know Takuto, it being a truncated work week and he living high on the untrusting meter. I gleaned through my investigatory talents and the brief synopsis from Alonso, that Takuto was a chef at a restaurant, probably a Japanese restaurant. I heard words like chirashi and P&L on more than one eavesdrop. Apparently in this particular field of work, this kind of thing happens. People in high places, especially ones in the high-stakes food and beverage community, often get violently replaced. Something about the number of knives at hand, the ambient heat of any given kitchen, the stress of maintaining fish at the right temperature.

That kind of thing did not deter me. Violence comes with the job. Why would someone hire a body guard if their body wasn’t in some kind of perpetual state of risk. It kind of goes without saying.

In the short time I knew Takuto, I hadn’t been given much insight into who his enemies were, what kinds of valuable assets he possessed, any of that sweet detail that might make my job easier. I got the impression that Takuto didn’t know either. He seemed like a man who hadn’t quite found his footing in his new job, an apprentice turned chef turned sushi-alderman in a manner of hours. He seemed like the kind of many who needed some thorough body-guarding, but without that information, the job was nothing more than looking scarier and more aware than you really are.

You’d have to ask Alonso personally if you want to know why he hired me. God knows he wouldn’t explain it to me. He simply said, “I know talent when I see it.” I was in the middle of a také course, miso soup included. I had become a big fan of sushi. I found the formality of the dining experience balanced me out. The beauty and grace of every aspect was a welcome vacation from my normal life. Plus such fish were high fatty oils. Perhaps you’ve gathered by now, perhaps you haven’t, but I promise, if you were to pass me on the street, you’d bet your life that I’m the kind of guy that likes his fatty oils. You might even say I look like a guy who deals exclusively in fatty oils. They’ve always held a special place in my heart. Maybe that’s why I was hired.

This was 1996, in case you couldn’t tell. Sushi was still an elusive cuisine in America at this point in history. The country hadn’t rediscovered its craft culture quite yet — the nineties had us all in a climactic frenzy whose origins dated to the fifties, probably earlier, but definitely at least the fifties. The factory processed food system had triumphed over its communist cousins, whose food system was undoubtedly just as factory-based but was somehow different, I’m not sure. Either way, we won, and in celebration we pumped our money into deep fried hot dogs and bloomin’ onions and all-you-can eateries and tuna melts. Not to say I have anything against those particular items. In fact, I choose them because they more or less define me as a consumer.

Sushi was just one of those things that flew under the radar. No one really trusted raw fish, they didn’t rate rice quite as high as bread and pasta, and wasabi was feared for its potency. It just so happened that a sushi bar opened up right across the street from my apartment. Me being the type that needed extended breaks from Dexter, presently my only companion and also my cat, I had the habit of trying any restaurant or bar I could find.

I was only one of a handful of people who frequented this establishment, whose sign simple read, in dull red lettering, Fishy Smell. Nor was it the best neighborhood for such a restaurant. People of that ilk, my neighbors at the time, didn’t have my unique brand of open-mindedness. It was almost as if they were attempting to deter people from eating there.

Still the sushi was good. The chef clearly took his job very seriously and treated me with respect. I did get the overall impression that they were somewhat nervous about opening a restaurant in that location. Whether it was the crime, the degenerates, the filth on the streets and sidewalks, the noise from the fire-escapes and roofs where in the heat of summer the chronically claustrophobic congregate, and how all this would influence the delicate nature of their fish, or something else, a concern uniquely Japanese, a concern about culture and its export.  I won’t brag but I did some research after my third or so meal in Fishy Smell and it turns out for most of history the Japanese were not particularly inclined towards cultural imports or exports. Such a recent and drastic reversal, I suspected, might cause a few of their more traditional citizens some mild anxiety.

While the rest of the country remained in their comfy, all-American reveries, the elusive world of the sushi magnates began to form before my very eyes. Perhaps America was right to dabble in a California roll once a year, perhaps at a holiday party, and leave it at that.  Perhaps they sensed that the sushi underworld was still afoot, and that stepping into an authentic sushi restaurant, and I believe I’m quoting Newsweek here, was one of the most dangerous things you could do in 1996.

As I was saying, I was in the middle of my také course, I think on my mackerel (one of my favorites re: fatty oils), getting eyed in a characteristically cryptic manner by the chef, when a well-dressed fellow walked through the doors. He was a regular, always sat in the end seat at the bar, far on the other end away from the door, and who always had a different guest with him. The chef greeted him with deference, seemed to serve him with a particular air of fear, as if at the slightest moment of disappointment, he guest could put down his chopsticks, walk outside, and shutter the restaurant, closing it forever and suffocating the staff and public unfortunate enough to be trapped inside.  

So that night, as I was sitting alone at the bar, drinking a beer and reading a book on mythology, a topic to which I returned rather frequently, eyeing my mackerel, best for last. The bar was empty — it was near closing time, and it was raining outside. At about 9:30, just as I was about to pop that little nigiri in my mouth, the door opened and the regular, the fellow, enters the restaurant, then locks the door from the inside.

I sat up. My antennae told me to. I do sometimes find myself trapped in places, but never like this. The chef and waitress disappeared. The man approached me, all smiles. In New York, this is a definite sign of danger. “Hi,” he said, his voice deep and velvety. “I’m Alonso. I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time.”

I made a face that said, sure, what else am I doing. Alonso took the stool next to me and began talking. didn’t have to say much to get the idea across. He had people who needed bodily protection, which was precisely the kind of protection I offered. I didn’t really care at that time of my life who I guarded, what they did for a living, the kind of people they tended to anger to a point of needed protection. That kind of information couldn’t really be trusted coming from well-dressed sushi bar patrons anyway.

“So what do you think,” he said after his spiel.

“You’d be surprised how many people in New York have offered me per-diem jobs as their goon or thug or even a pair of legs, a pair of shoulders, an extra set of eyes, a quick change of clothes. It sounds like you’re just looking generally for an all around frightening kind of presence in any given situation.”

“You catch on quick.”

“With nine millions people running around with their own agendas, sometimes people need reminding that their own agenda’s don’t align with other more powerful agendas. Guys like me tend to fill that job role well.”

The conversation went on. Alonso liked to talk. He liked to get you to see things from his side of the story. But since this is my side of the story I’ve decided I won’t give him any more space. If I do, we’ll be here all night. Suffice it to say, I was interested in money at the time and didn’t have a lot of use for myself other than precisely what he was asking of me. I could start the next day.

[theleastcarefulofgamedevs]

hehehehehehehehe ur turn. overshare pals

hehe im lov u ceec :)

---

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

water bottles and soda cans!

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

chocolate.... im lov it

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

cotton candy!

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

hardworking, earnest, and honestly? they gave me too much credit ebagweaganegioawnegew

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

soda bottles!

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

somewhere between boho, goth, and grunge hehe

7. earbuds or headphones?

headphones!

8. movies or tv shows?

movies,,

9. favorite smell in the summer?

you know that wet pavement smell after it rains? love that

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

dodgeball hehehe

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

nothin tbh. i don’t wake up early enough for it

12. name of your favorite playlist?

Writing Music! i made it hehehe

13. lanyard or key ring?

key ring!

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

GUMMY BEARS AND JELLY BEANS

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

“A Child Called ‘It’“ by Dave Pelzer

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

cuddled up to someone in blankets,,, im lov anything with my s/o tbh

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

i have this beat up pair of blue slip ons that have bloodstains on em bc i got a nosebleed one day bwaeiugbaweugbaweubguaw

18. ideal weather?

post-raining, or like. just before it starts raining

19. sleeping position?

anything with my s/o or bein wrapped in like. a billion blankets

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

on my home pc in my room!

21. obsession from childhood?

dice and video games!

22. role model?

i know it’s gonna sound dumb but like. a lot of characters from media have influenced me a lot, like sans/komaeda etc. another one from my real life would be my aunt on my mom’s side!

23. strange habits?

i bounce my leg while listening to music or stressed,, that’s abt it. OH and i like twirling a small blanket around on my arm bc... acrobatics of sorts

24. favorite crystal?

amethyst, but anything clean cut and rounded looks rlly nice imo,,

25. first song you remember hearing?

the first day i remember in my life was christmas at my grandma’s when i was 4, so probably random christmas music ubwegebwgwebgoibgweg

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

sometimes when i get tired of sitting around at home i like to walk down to the dog park by my house! 

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

cuddle,,,,,,,,,,, wrap up in a blanket with some freshly baked cookies n just. be there

28. five songs to describe you?

megalovania, medley rush 2 from the sonic rush ost, the promised neverland english op, metal crusher from undertale, metal scratchin’ from sonic rush

29. best way to bond with you?

just talk to me! im godawful at starting convos but i love talkin to ppl! 

30. places that you find sacred?

every person’s room feels that way, as well as obvious places, like churches n whatnot. we went n visited my aunt’s old house so my mom could pick up some stuff and being in her room after she died in 2015 was just like. an emotion i can’t rlly describe

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

hoodie, trackpants, n sneakers hehe

32. top five favorite vines?

back at it again @ krispy kreme, ADAM, they were roommates, two dudes in a hot tub, my croissant

33. most used phrase in your phone?

either “be there soon” or “ily” 

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

none tbh. i don’t watch much tv so i don’t see ads often

35. average time you fall asleep?

either 10:30 or sometime after midnight. no in between 

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

it was a rage comic

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

suitcase!

38. lemonade or tea?

lemonade, but i LOVE tea!

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

LEMON CAKE....

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

i was walkin in the halls with my friend and someone dropped a styrofoam cup of pasta on my friend’s head from the second floor awbegiuawbeguiawbguaewg

41. last person you texted?

the person who sent this ask heheheheh

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

jacket pockets!

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

hoodie!

44. favorite scent for soap?

anything really, but i like whatever my s/o uses bc it would remind me of them!

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

fantasy!

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

underwear tbh. like. that and a tshirt or just underwear is the only way i can sleep

47. favorite type of cheese?

sensory issues say i have to hate all kinds of cheese outside of like. grilled cheese so let’s go with that/cheddar

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

dragonfruit! 

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

GOD pretty much every quote from monomi or chiaki in danganronpa 2, but mostly “if you learn to love yourself, that love will continue to carry you for your whole life! love, love...”

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

OH HERES A FUCKIN STORY OK so i was at my friend’s house with a bunch of others bc we were doin a sleepover type thing and we were eating raising canes in his attic at like 3 am and some guy high on like. 3 different drugs at once got impaled through the leg on his fence. nobody saw him but we knew he was there and the cops were there in like 3 minutes. that very same friend has some of the most wack stories ngl

51. current stresses?

just doing well in school and making sure my s/o is happy!

52. favorite font?

comic sans.......................... im sorry

53. what is the current state of your hands?

my palms b sweaty but my fingers are dehydrated tbh. typin

54. what did you learn from your first job?

work.... difficult

55. favorite fairy tale?

probably the princess and the frog!

56. favorite tradition?

christmas!

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

probably my most noteworthy traumas tbh. gettin therapy for em, too

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

writing, my ability to overcome obstacles, being able to help ppl as well as i can, and making friends fast!

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“Not dead yet.”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

Probably either shounen, romance, or moe,,,,

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

“It’s a beautiful day outside. Birds are singing, flowers are blooming. On days like these, kids like you... should be burning in hell.”

62. seven characters you relate to?

sans, komaeda, makoto naegi, komaru naegi, toko fukawa, chiaki nanami, and chihiro fujisaki!

63. five songs that would play in your club?

they’d all be fall out boy tbh. that and videogame osts

64. favorite website from your childhood?

armor games hehe

65. any permanent scars?

i don’t think so? at least, not yet

66. favorite flower(s)?

roses and anything blue!

67. good luck charms?

my dice sets!

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

vanilla york peppermint patties... gross

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

pikmin in pikmin 1 who are underneath a bridge when it’s completed are killed because they get pushed through the ground

70. left or right handed?

right handed!

71. least favorite pattern?

probably the hellish bumpy pattern all teachers have all over their fuckin classrooms

72. worst subject?

math

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

chicken nuggets in milkshake... good. or frankly just like. cooked chicken mixed with anythin cold like ice or ice cream

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

like. 3 or 4

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

i was eating a crunch bar and it fell out hehe

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

I WOULD DIE FOR FRENCH FRIES.

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

any small blooming plant, like a single rose or flower!

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

hrm. coffee from a gas station tbh

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

NEITHER LOOK GOOD LMAO and i don’t have a driver’s license. that’s just like. a prediction

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

jewel tones!

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

lightning bugs!

82. pc or console?

either works but i spend more time on pc!

83. writing or drawing?

writing, but i like both!

84. podcasts or talk radio?

talk radio, but i love podcasts like TAZ or Critical Role! 

84. barbie or polly pocket?

neither? but probably barbie bc it’s more well known? idk

85. fairy tales or mythology?

mythology!

86. cookies or cupcakes?

cupcakes all the way b

87. your greatest fear?

me being the last person i know alive. i’d rather die than outlive everyone

88. your greatest wish?

i hope that no matter what there is after we die, i get to be with the people that are most important to me. 

89. who would you put before everyone else?

my s/o and family tbh

90. luckiest mistake?

buying danganronpa bweguowabguawebogbaweibg

91. boxes or bags?

boxes!

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

fairy lights!

93. nicknames?

i go by wes, dev, bines, anything rlly

94. favorite season?

spring!

95. favorite app on your phone?

tumblr hehe

96. desktop background?

it’s the ddlc cast! it’s a greyscaled image of four of the events cut together and their eyes glow hehe

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

only one, and it’s my dads bc i have to call him every time i go to my grandparents’ hehe

98. favorite historical era?

probably the one we’re in now tbh, but like. also hate it

[willowlark369]

Relationship Status: Complicated

There’s no other way to say this.

I am fat. I haven’t always been that way. As a child, I was waif-thin, a fact that didn’t help my mother any when DFS began investigating her for neglect or potential abuse because my brother was rapidly dropping off the bottom of the weight chart. It looked particularly damning next to my other two siblings who were rather thick (not fat but certainly fatter than many felt appropriate for female children). Both my brother and I were small and thin, though, and often covered in bruises and bumps. It wasn’t from abuse (though looking back now, I can understand why DFS might have thought that, beyond the bruises). It was just the curse of active children who had very little padding to protect them when they inevitably fell or crashed.

My brother’s problem was actually relatively simple. He had hyperthyroidism. Once they realized the problem (which was made complicated by no one initially listening to my mother that yes, she was actually feeding him and could they please focus now because something’s clearly wrong) and worked out how to counter it long enough to get him to puberty where it straightened itself out, he stopped being so weedy. He grew up to be a very respectable 6′4″ with a linebacker’s build.

My problem wasn’t so simple. I would go through periods of time when I refused to eat foods that I had been obsessed with and wouldn’t eat anything else the week before. Most children hated trying new things, but I would seek out new flavors or textures and would tell everyone about the subtle differences in amounts of ingredients. I would go through periods of time when I was very sick with GI issues, for seemingly no reason, and my family’s home cure (crackers crumbled in milk) would only make it worse until I had spent a day or two just drinking jello water or Pedisure.

None of this was treated as something understandable. The explanations were things like picky eater and active imagination and stomach flu. It was only later, as an adult raising a child with similar issues, that I came across things like hyposensitivity, hyperesthesia, and lactose intolerance. It helped both Bug and I to know those words, and to understand that there were others with the same issue out there. I’m rather proud of Bug’s relationship with food, even with previous problem periods.

But I’m skipping parts.

When I was eight, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. I was put on medication, of course, and that did help with the mood swings and the more obviously related symptoms. But the med had another effect, as meds often do. It suppressed my appetite. I wasn’t very good at remembering to eat anyway and had problems keeping food down a lot, and now I didn’t seem to have a hunger signal.

My body thought I was starving, which yeah, I probably was (again, looking back with the clarity of hindsight). So it did what humans are so fucking great at: it adapted to survive. It stored everything it could, everything not immediately necessary for biological functions. This was probably made very difficult by my habit of preferring vegetables and fruits to things that had easily made-into-fat parts like meats and dairy. Grains were the closest that I came, and even those, I tended to avoid because they tended to make me itchy or sick. (Later, I would learn about gluten and its effect on autoimmune disorders.)

By the time I was thirteen, I was 5′4″, the same height I am now in my thirties, and I had a stomach that made me look four to five months pregnant. My limbs were still waif-like, with very little padding, though. My body was storing the fat predominantly in the hardest place to get rid of it.

I started getting the comments. You probably know the ones.

Are you sure you should eat that?

Maybe you could do with skipping a few meals.

Have you tried exercising? Or X diet?

I was thirteen, and people, complete strangers, were making judgements. Even worse was when family members made similar comments. So I became self-conscious about eating in front of others, preferring to simply not, and I started trying to change the topic whenever it came up. Being prone to research anyway, I started looking up diets and exercises with what could only be termed as obsessive compulsion.

And I grew thicker around the middle, while doctors and nurse tisked over my risking BMI and blamed the worsening health issues on overeating and simply eating the wrong things. Trying so hard to be healthy, I tried to follow their advice. I kept a food journal, only to be constantly reminded that I needed to include everything I ate or drank, not just what I thought they wanted to see. I cut portions and even skipped meals. I gave up sauces and dressings.

I stayed fat and got fatter. My body and I were at war with each other, both trying to do the best thing to keep me alive.

I got pregnant, complicating things further as hormones, morning sickness, and food cravings got added to the mix. Oh, and stress, as I failed to skip periods and nearly had a panic attack every single time I started, not even able to be comforted by movement most of the time because of the fat I carried around my middle having a “muffling” effect.

Things didn’t get better. For a long time, everything kept getting worse. Medical personnel would treat whatever health issues I had as a symptom of being overweight and their advice was always the same: cut portions, don’t eat X, and exercise more. If they had me keep a food journal, I would always face the accusation, both direct and not, of not recording everything or not doing so correctly. As I became the primary income as well caregiver for my daughters, I didn’t have time to exercise, but no one asked about the miles I walked back and forth to work or to run errands or chasing the girls around the park.

I was fat, so fat must be the problem.

Then my insurance stopped covering my med, and I had to switch. The new one had an even worse effect than merely suppressing hunger. It still did that, but it also caused weight gain. I gained sixty pounds in under three months. Already stressed as it was, my body couldn’t handle pushing 300 pounds, and my pancreas started having issues producing insulin.

I became diabetic. Only the diet they suggested didn’t help and in fact seemed to make everything even worse, with “weird” reactions like starches making my blood sugar plummet while “safe” foods like carrots or tomatoes making it skyrocket. The nutritionist I was assigned to scratched her head and assigned a food journal, and suggested a step monitor with daily recording but no set goal.

Then she did what no one else had ever done: she believed me when I said that I was recording everything, and doing so correctly. Do you know what looking at the data provided without assumption did? It revealed that I was routinely struggling to go over 1000 calories a day while I was routinely burning over 3500 calories in the same time frame. There was often days were I had caloric intakes of less than 500 because I had simply forgot to eat.

Disordered eating is what she called it, not deliberate enough to be anorexia, but still a problem. She pulled a Remus Lupin and instead of telling me to cut portions, she said eat and you’ll feel better. She recommended telling my psychiatrist to find another med and to not take ‘no’ for answer this time. This can’t continue, she said, or you’ll die.

She brought up that there were two types of diabetics: starch and sugar. Most diabetics are starch diabetics who benefit from avoiding things like bread, pasta, and potatoes while heaping on veggies indiscriminately. But sugar diabetics were different and really efficient at digesting simple sugars like those found in fruit and certain veggies which made their blood sugar spike just the same as candy but they benefited from ingesting more complex carbs like starches.

She brought up how studies had been showing that more than just celiacs needed to avoid gluten, that it caused flare-ups in everyone with autoimmune disorders which psoriasis had been discovered to be. She pointed out that I was likely lactose intolerant just like my Bug and how the same sources of dairy that were safe for her would be safe for me.

Don’t listen to them, she said, when they assume what makes fat. And she pointed me in the direction of nutritional (not diet) research. She gave me a list of tips on how to eat and things to discuss with my therapist, who was less enthused with the nutritionist’s conclusion about the importance of eating more instead of less, because I was fat so obviously couldn’t have any kind of eating disorder unless it was binging or overeating.

The therapist wasn’t the only one who didn’t understand. Family members continued to suggest whatever diet they were on or had heard about or just to not eat. But now I was armed with knowledge and the voice of a tiny redhead saying eat to get well or you’ll die, because you’ve been dying for a long time.

It’s not a magical fix. I still struggle. I still don’t like eating in front of others, preferring to either not or to get that part of things done as quickly as possible. I have mixed reactions to being asked if I should be eating things or if I think I should cut back. I still forget to eat sometimes, even though I’m getting better about remembering and most days now I remember at least one meal.

At 246 pounds and 5′4″, I’m fat and overweight, obese. People still judge me when I discuss having health issues, both mental and physical, and they still assume that it’s the fault of the weight instead of the weight just being a part of it. They still assume it’s my fault, a choice I made instead of a reaction to things.

My relationship with food is complicated and difficult to explain.

I just thought I would share, in case there is someone else out there in a similar situation, someone dying without knowing it and haven’t met their own tiny redhead to tell them to eat to get better.

You are not alone.

It’s okay to have a complicated relationship with food.

Eat.

[flamestoflight]

DPT year one

This morning I woke up, had breakfast, went back to sleep until noon. Hung out with my parents, only had my first cup of coffee at 3pm, watched Netflix. It’s called relaxing, and I am loving it. It’s dark and rainy outside, and it has been all day. I had a wrap with beans, corn, tomatoes, spinach, carrots, and hummus for lunch. I ate some fresh strawberries that were buy one get one free. I’m a bit groggy, because the past three weeks I’ve been needing 2-3 cups of coffee a day to get through. But it’s okay, I can be groggy, I’m on break.

Summer semester starts next week - I’ll be home through Monday, back at school to take competencies on Wednesday, spending a couple days with my sister in MD, and then heading to a vacation house with my family for the long weekend. It looks like it’s going to be gross and rainy, so that’ll mean a lot of card games, tv watching, naps, and wine. Which sounds PERfect to me right now. Absolutely perfect.

I think I really have a lot to say about this year, but I wouldn’t have the time to get to it all and I honestly don’t want to talk about it all. Some things will just be and don’t need to be acknowledged and that’s fine. But I’m me, and I like getting closure, I like wrapping up time periods of my life, and I like going back on these things. So I guess it’s worth my while to go back through some of the things that seem most important/most relevant to me.

They said that we would all “become a family” during these years in grad school together - that we’d help each other through because it’s the only way to survive. That we’d become more than comfortable with each other because we’d spend all day every day together. By the end of the first summer semester I don’t think I can say that was true. By the end of this year....I can. I stuck to my little friend group for the first couple months, but most everyone has come together in some capacity over the past year

I made an instagram post on new years eve that said something about my new year’s resolution not being about food/weight/exercise this year, but about being happy and passing my classes. It sounds like the kind of thing that someone just ~says~ and it’s the kind of thing that I’ve just said before but not had the strength or been in the mental place to make it that way. I can genuinely say that this year I have. 

When I was in classes full time and also treating patients 3x/week, I simply did not have the time to get to the gym. Or rather, I could have, but I didn’t make it a priority. I did not work out for a solid 6-8 weeks straight. I drank wine in the evenings, I ordered pizza with my roommates and went out for drinks or dinner most weeks. I started making pasta for dinner (not chickpea pasta or black bean pasta or quinoa pasta....regular pasta) as a go-to because it was quick and satisfying and tasted good (dare I admit that pasta tastes good!??!). When I went out to dinner I order quesadillas and pastas and stir frys and sandwiches....I didn’t look at the menu ahead of time and I didn’t always order a salad.

I went through a breakup this semester. I was completely shattered for 2 weeks, and then I stood myself up, pulled myself together, and got my head back in the game. I enjoyed my time with my friends, I worked hard in my classes, I formed relationships with my patients. I took care of me, I focused on me, and not being accountable to anyone else or feeling like I had to update anyone else. I felt independent and capable and like I was getting shit done. *That* was an extremely important aspect to the way I grew this semester

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: being in clinic this past semester made me feel just awful about myself in ways I hadn’t felt before. I felt incompetent, I felt disorganized, I felt like I actually *couldn’t* handle what was on my plate. I came home and cried after clinic probably at least 25% of the days. I think I honestly increased my resting heart rate by ~40bpm this semester from clinic stress alone. I lost a bunch of weight, I gained some back, I lost it again. I’m not sure where I stand now, but that’s not the point. The point is that this semester was hard, it beat me down, it was exhausting.

But oh god was it worth it. I am infinitely thankful that through whatever algorithm or randomization or whatever formula they used to assign us to clinicals, I ended up in the first one. Notoriously the hardest one, but I knew I’d be able to handle it. And I did. And it reminded me of why I was here. Why I was studying so hard, why I was being pushed through coursework at breakneck speed. It’s not about me, it’s about the patients. They made me excited for clinic, their injuries/diagnoses challenged me to try new things, adjust my treatment plan, work a little bit harder.  My CI’s challenged me every single day, questioned everything I did, pushed me to develop my own way of thinking and working. I am thankful for everyone who played a role in teaching me this. 

Okay and now I’m done talking about this lol. That’s another thing about me this semester. I’m not sure if it’s related to my breakup or if it’s related to just not having time, but I don’t really tell people things anymore, unless I’m asked. If someone asks me how PT school/clinic is going, I’m more than happy to tell them the highlights and some stories or whatever. But if someone doesn’t ask, I never bring it up. I brush things off like they don’t matter, I don’t really talk about how busy I am. I don’t think anyone actually understands what my days look like because I never ever talk about it. I’m relatively sure it’s related to the fact that I was called “pretentious” for talking about this stuff early this year when I first started, and so now I just kind of shut down around it. But either way.....I really just don’t feel like typing more about this right now

I’ve got plans for this summer. I have class til 9 or 10 pm every night (except Fridays), but I have some gaps in the afternoon....and I’ve got plans. Again, don’t really feel like talking about it until it happens or is happening (if it happens), but I am very much looking forward to this semester, to afternoon breaks, to not having to juggle class and clinic anymore, and to enjoying my last summer not working full time.

Goodbye #mygrad, time to start up #mygrad2

[silenceofthecookies]

Bleach matchup - nakunakunomi

Giveaway prize for @nakunakunomi​

Matchup for me :D No gender preferences I am a biromantic ace. 

Your age: 24 

Your general appearance - most striking features, your fashion style, etc.

Answer: Chubby mermaid lol. Long curly hair almost all the way down my back. Red at the moment, but I’ve had all colors of the rainbow. Ears pierced multiple times and a septum ring whenever I leave the house. My general style is comfy alternative, loads of black, boots and ripped jeans but baggy shirts and sweaters. I don’t like drawing much attention to my chest because my boobs are a very prominent feature. Hourglass figure with extra minutes: so there’s boobs and ass but also a tummy and such. I have dimples when I laugh and a whole bunch of moles over my body. I like a killer liner and mascara but don’t necessary wear makeup every day. I like 4 tattoos and waiting for that fifth one. 

Your MBTI, western zodiac chart, etc.

Answer: INFP (mediator), Scorpio sun, Libra moon, Pisces ascending. Year of the rat. I’d say my MBTI type is pretty accurate and while I don’t have many of the bitchy traits often assigned to Scorpios, I do have some of the passion towards things I care about and a generally jealous and stubborn personality. 

Your personality, how you perceive yourself and how people around you perceive you.*

Answer: Stubbornness and some jealousy (that is always internalized) are my worst traits. I lack self-esteem and confidence and get anxious in new situations. Once I am around people I trust I blossom open and become more giggly (lame jokes and such) my humor is about 50% puns and 50% sarcasm. I am quick-witted with ‘mean’ remarks but I will never intend to offend or cause harm to anyone. Tough exterior comes with a soft interior. I tend to overthink and worry a lot and will usually put a friend’s needs above mine. I often have people coming to me for advice or to help them calm down. I will be honest in the softest way possible, even if the things I need to say aren’t necessarily nice. I want my friends to flourish. I get easily distracted by cute things and can really enjoy beautiful sights, nice food, good company… i am heavily introverted but I do need the handful of people I care about to flourish myself. I accumulate facts and know loads of small things about a lot of things. I like adding in fun facts every now and then but sometimes I come across as a know-it-all and then I will get really self-conscious about it. I either talk up a storm nonstop or turn into myself and get really really quiet. 

Your hobbies, interests, life goals etc.*

Answer: anything creative: reading and writing, drawing (although I’m terrible at it), pixel art. Singing, making music, playing instruments, DIYing things. I am quite good with makeup and wigs, and I cosplay but the sewing I still struggle with. I love acting and gaming as well although I don’t spend that much time on them. I am super heavily interested in true crime, cases, and the psychology of murderers and such. I tend to get overexcited talking about such cases, never celebrating violence, but just being very fascinated by what a human brain can do. I also just really love riddles, mysteries, and solving them. I’d love to become a teacher or a professional dog trainer. I love animals more than I love people and if I could work with dogs every day of my life that’d be amazing. An unrealistic goal would be to sing for a living, or do musicals. But I don’t think that’s ever gonna happen. 

Your favorites, likes, dislikes, pet peeves, fears.*

Answer: food! Mainly Asian dishes (from all of Asia) and pastas. I love cooking and experimenting in the kitchen and trying out new things to taste. I’m vegetarian but not vegan and I will try everything that’s not meat or fish at least once! I love all kinds of animals, not only your average pets. I will also go pet the cows, and in the zoo you’ll have to drag me away by my ankles from the reptilians and the aquarium. I am fascinated by them and I love them. I love plants and flowers, and if you’d let me be, Id have a small jungle in my house with all kinds of plants and animals. I just love taking care of them, talking to them… I dislike arrogant people, people who are rude against serving staff. I dislike impoliteness and laziness in the sense that other people are suffering from your lack of work. If I am in a group project I will never procrastinate because it can drag the whole group down, it’s okay to be lazy if it only impacts yourself. I am afraid of loneliness and the fact that everyone I know just pretends to like me while talking behind my back and secretly hating me. I am not easily startled by monsters, animals, and such, but I do get a little paranoid if I have to walk in the street in the middle of the night. (a side effect from the true-crime consumption) 

Any additional info you would like to share, fun facts, etc.

Answer: I think I added most things in the other walls of text (sorry they are so long). But when it comes to relationship and goals around that there are these things that I think are most important: 

Patience, because I have some anxiety issues as well as fear of commitment. I will definitely need some reassurance. Also consent is the sexiest thing in the world, and that’s coming from an ace person. Honesty, liars are out. I have a lot of trouble trusting again once there has been a breach of trust. White lies for surprises and such is one thing, but any intentional lying in order to avoid confrontation is an absolute dealbreaker. 

Love language is mostly quality time and words of affirmation, and that’s what I like too, as well as soft PDA and affections: cuddles, kisses, hand holding… I like spending time together, and even more so I like actually doing things together: sharing hobbies, going out, dates, dinners, walks, adventures, travels… all the things! :hellmo: 

I match you with...

Nelliel Tu Odelschwank

Nelliel is the perfect match for you! She’s extroverted so she’ll be the first one to reach out to you. Her intentions are always very clear, though she’s very careful to not overstep any boundaries. No matter how much time you need because of your anxiety and commitment issues, Nelliel has set her mind on you and she will be as patient as you need her to be.

Nelliel is the type of woman to support you through anything, good or bad. You want to adopt a pet? She’ll go with you and help you pick if needed. You want plants on every free surface in your house? Time to go to the shop. You’re about to meet some new people and you’re anxious? She’s there right next to you.

Nelliels love languages are physical touch and quality time. As long as she an be close enough to sneak a hug or a kiss in every now and then, it doesn’t matter what you’re doing. Seeing you being passionate about your hobbies makes her smile every time and she will gladly try your hobbies as well. She loves drawing with you, even if neither of you are very good at it.  Sometimes, when making something, she’ll ask you to sing something for her. She might join in, but she prefers to hear you sing.

Nelliel too loves reading a lot, so being snuggled up together on the couch under the same blanket, both with your own book and your own cup of tea is a regular happening. And if you start cooking something for her? Oh god, this woman will be putty in your hand. She’s not a very picky eater and will eat literally anything you make her. Food is another thing she loves, and with you spoiling her with all these amazing dishes, you can expect lots of hugs and kisses in return.

Late night conversations between you and Nelliel will be the absolute best. With your general knowledge and Nelliels imagination, conversations can go to the weirdest but most amazing places. Nelliel loves your humour as well and will gladly join in with her own lame jokes and puns. It’ll be one pun after the other and before you know it, the two of you will be clutching your stomachs.

One of the many things Nelliel loves about you is your hair. The curls, the colours, the length… she thinks it’s absolutely gorgeous. Another thing she absolutely loves about you are your dimples. They are the cutest thing and she will surprise kiss then while you’re laughing.

Cheerfulness aside, Nelliel can be serious when needed. She’s a great listener and gives great advice as well. Despite what her cheerful attitude would let on, Nelliel is very perceptive and knows when something is bothering you. Much like you, Nelliel can’t stand liars either. She’s very clear in communication and refuses to have any serious secrets from you, even if they’re hard to talk about. During arguments, Nelliel will rarely raise her voice. Violence, physically verbally or emotionally, are a big no-no for her, so she’ll always remain mature during these moments.

[lunati0ns]

Hi!!! Random question but one of my goals this summer was to write more and be happy with how it turns out. I love your fics and you’re in similar fandoms as I so I’d thought I’d ask, what’s your writing process like? Any schedule to follow or do you just sort of go with the flow? Sorry if this is a little weird or invasive :P

aw i don't mind at all, don't worry! kind of flattering to be asked for advice actually. (thank you for enjoying my stuff by the way<3)

so. first of what u need to know about me. i am a nervous wreck. if i hype up my writing process to myself too much and make it seem too important i'll get intimidated and won't make anything at all-- and that informs a lot of the choices i make? i don't know if that will also apply to you so take these with a grain of salt!

under the cut because this will for sure get long:

i... sometimes have a schedule? i through phases. there are times where i'm writing every day, or every other day, and stretches of time where i'm not writing at all. i'll admit i don't really commit to giving myself a schedule or deadline because this is very much something i do for fun, and i try at every turn to avoid it stressing me out. but! maybe you can ONLY finish things if u have a schedule. don't be afraid to try out different things and see what works for you above all.

^^^ this is of course only if i've outlined everything out already, because if i do not outline things i will freeze up like a deer in headlights. i'll tentatively recommend making an outline, because even though i know there are people who despise having to plan things out... it'll probably make your story more cohesive and clear in the beginning if you know where you're going to land in the end.

something i do try to stick to is, whenever i have a day that i can sit down and commit to writing, is try to tack out 200 words minimum. (used to be 500 words but i lowered it because my energy level changed, don't be afraid to do that) i don't always get there but i do always try. sometimes i go over it too! or other times i stop at 200 words exactly. i don't know if i'd also recommend you go for 200 words every writing session, because i don't know you, maybe that would be too small for you or maybe it'd be too big. the point of the minimum is that its an amount that you don't have to strain yourself very hard to reach on an average day.

something i ALSO do on writing days is i work on a pomodoro timer! if you don't know what that is, it's basically a way to carve up time slots into alternating 25 minute work and 5 minute break periods, with 15 minute long breaks every couple cycles. smashing my head into the keyboard for hours on end with no break just makes me burnt out. take breaks!

i have no schedule at all for this part i just throw pasta at the wall and sometimes things stick, and if they stick i start building off 'em. how i outline basically goes

1. make a wishlist of scenes i'm making the fic to be able to write. i probably figure out fun things like... themes and symbolism and whatever here

2. figure out excuses on how to string these moments together (the excuses being more scenes)

act one:

3. if i'm having a lot of trouble with the previous step i might try to fit the plot into a plot structure list or beat sheet, filling out whatever space i'm missing between scenes with new ideas informed by what the example says. the first few parts of simple season's plot structure looks like this:

opening image: luz's first day, her mom is worried about her and she is NOT having a good time

inciting incident: luz and amity are assigned as writing partners

end of the beginning: [SPOILERS TBA]

(we are Just getting into the end of the beginning. we have so much longer to go......)

4. pad out the plot structure chart with everything that happens in between the Big Moments listed in the plot structure. the little funny parts. The Heart. here's another peek at the outline of ss ch. 1

very jokey very funny not at all serious. i have an outline for the whole fic that looks like this. nightmare.

5. end stages!!! this is the part where i go in and pick away at the outline adding at least 200 words of prose every time i have a writing day. taking us back to the beginning of the post!!!

uhh okay and on being happy with how it turns out.... i may not be the best to ask about that because i am often very unhappy with how my work turns out lol. in fact part of my personal writing philosophy is making something that i consider "good" is not allowed to be part of my goal, because if i keep trying to make something that lives up to the unattainable version i have in my head i'll have a breakdown and never do anything. i do make a real effort and try my absolute best to do it well (i want to be satisfied that i'm not just throwing something that i haven't worked hard on at the very least), but instead my goals are 1. to make something 2. to finish it 3. to Feel Something Somewhat Positive While Writing It.

i don't want to tell you to change your goals or anything, but be sure to be easy on yourself! remember that making anything at all is good and something to be proud of (as long as it doesn't have portray harmful things that could harm the type of people its about/that read it, ofc). even if u don't end up finishing it! whatever you do is more than enough.

PLEASE HAVE FUN!!!!!!!!! I BELIEVE IN YOU