1. What’s your favorite music genre? - probably metal lmao 2. Last song you listened to? - kaa-khem - yat-kah 3. Favorite childhood game? Why? - hide and seek, i was always really good at it. im still pretty good at hiding tbh 4. If you could only dress in one color, which would it be? - black. i wear more gray than black but wearing all black looks cool 5. Was anime a mistake? - no but some of it is uhhhhhhhhhh Bad 6. Celebrity crush? - ghhhhh i dont know??? ive never really been one to get crushes on celebrities haha 7. Text or call? - text. if im gonna actually talk to someone i need to see their face, idk why 8. Favorite movie? - idk i like a lot 9. Can you dance? - like if i forget people might look at me, yeah. or if im dancing w someone else yeah 10. What always makes you smile? - my friends usually 11. How many times did you drink water today? - like once or twice
“LOOK— i have a crush on SO MANY PEOPLE, it’d be rude to name just one. obviously, i cannot control my want and need to be with someone. can the REAL PERSON i like show up already ?? crushes ain’t cuttin’ it for me !!”
Realistically, he’s probably better off with someone else.
He probably doesn’t have to remind her to eat, or get a good night sleep.
He probably doesn’t have to worry about her hurting herself or getting too angry or not getting out of bed or anything like that.
I guess we both dodged a bullet because I need someone who helps me out and he needs someone who will never need helping out.
@torsamors i have never personally met a gay person who was older thank like 20 something? its the strangest thing when 20 year olds are seen as elders in the community when u think of it! and even if i met a person older i wouldnt even ask about that bc i feel like u need to know someone for a while to do that? but it seems rare that you would even have the oppurtunity to see an older person on a regular basis?
i have so much to do i have to read a whole ass book for ib literature and i have to edit 5 days of queue since i’m leaving for the coast tomorrow!!!! i’m so stressed!! and i need to pack!!! someone kill me!!!!!
NOT MY CABBAGE CORP!!!!
It’s surprising how I just NOPE out in this show. From pointless relationship drama to accusations I’m just really a wimp who can’t stand this kind of interpersonal conflict. I JUST WANT EVERYONE TO GET ALONG AHHHHH. Like what is this feeling? It’s not quite secondhand embarrassment but it’s close.
And like I really want Asami to get more development already. Like I KNOW it’s coming. But for now I’m just impatiently chomping at the bit wanting more. We’re getting there though! Slowly.
I’m also slightly amused by the giant freaking Amon hangings in the secret tunnel. I mean, someone made those things. Someone decided that they needed to be there, that the design was off without them.
Oh and then there’s the fact someone decided Avatarverse needed more mechs XD
There is a certain sort of light that only happens in Winter: the way the world glows with snow, the dull yellow of the streetlamps bouncing back up towards the sky as the city sleeps. Jon is used to it. He has been living here for long enough not to give it pause anymore. It’s a different brightness from home. Home doesn’t have as many street lamps.
He only sort of notices it tonight. His music is playing in his ears, tucked under a big woolen hat Sam had knit for him when they’d been in college. He is far more eager to know when the train is going to get here. It is cold, and late, and the digital sign that would ordinarily have a countdown to the next train is busted.
Somewhere to his left, a light turns on and he starts.
A woman in a long black coat is standing under the heater, which she had just pressed on. It’s only when he looks at her that he notices how cold he is and he takes a step towards her. She is fiddling in her bag and after a few seconds she produces a box of cigarettes and a lighter. She tugs off a glove, pops a cigarette into her mouth and begins to try and light it. Her hand is shaking from the cold, and after several failed attempts and a mumbled curse, Jon asks, “Want a hand?”
She looks at him sharply, sizing him up, and Jon forgets the train for a moment. She has moonglow in her hair, or whatever the color of the streetlamps on the snow is–modern, urban moonglow.
Without a word, she hands him the lighter, and he takes a gloveless hand from his pocket and a moment later, her cigarette is lit and she is inhaling deeply.
“Thanks,” she says at last. “It’s fucking freezing.”
“Gotta warm up any way you can,” he agrees, tucking his hand back into his jacket pocket.
“How do you not have gloves on?” she asks incredulously.
It’s a more boring story than its worth–that he had left them to Sam because Sam’s had fallen out of his coat on the El that morning and Sam needed gloves more than Jon did. Jon was used to Midwestern winters. So he shrugs.
She inhales again and blows smoke out of her nostrils. Or is it the warmth of her breath on the air? There is something hypnotic about her and he can’t look away. “Chicagoans,” she mutters, shaking her head.
“Where are you from?” he asks.
“Somewhere warm,” she replies. Jon is about to open his mouth to ask another question when they hear a rumble from the north and she inhales on her cigarette one last time, then drops it and stamps on it. “That’s me.”
The train pulls up. She boards. And it’s only as Jon locks eyes with her as the train doors close that he realizes he forgot to ask her name.