{ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ}

it was not quite what she’d expected would happen, when she’d begged cas to pretend to date her for a bit, but gina couldn’t say she minded having him around. to be fair, they had always been friends, but they’d never hung out as much as they were doing lately, and it was very easy to be with him, something about how similar they were making gina feel relaxed around him in a way she wasn’t quite used to. “does that mean you were too high to pay attention to anything, or just, not doing anything fun?” gina asked with a chuckle, shifting in place so she could look at him from where she was sat on the bed, most of it covered with books since she’d been trying to finish an assignment when he’d come in. “i — well, i hung out with romy and annoyed the worst dude in the world until he had to decide between hitting a girl or walking away, that was fun,” she started saying, choosing to begin with the easier stuff. “mostly spent time with blake, to be honest,” she added, making it sound final. “oh, and i — i may have kissed dom. bit of a mistake, don’t have to worry about it, it was — you know, spur of the moment kinda thing. totally didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“  my girlfriend, obviously. but from an um,  ”  he clears his throat,  “  objective  standpoint...  lana comes to mind. mimi. saige. oh and that fucking kid tiago. they’ve all got a lot of sex appeal. wish i could relate.  ”

“  no  ?  not really. i guess i haven’t thought about it. i feel kinda cool, i s’pose, but not superior at all. he’s still taller than me.  ”

aquamarine: where my muse feels most calm/relaxed

in small, quiet spaces. usually alone. either with headphones in or reading a book. probably very early in the morning. like 4am.

emerald: how my muse tells someone they love them without words

this is a tough one, because cas is a writer and so by nature he’s very wordy. it’s probably unintentional when he conveys love otherwise. small touches and a deep interest for the things the other person cares about. would probably buy them candy a lot, too, or weird little stoner snacks.

zoisite: does my muse believe everything's going to work out for them in the end or not?

FOXGLOVE: Name three facts about your family?

“  aw man...  um, my dad’s name is simon, which is my middle name, and sometimes girls have told me they think he’s hot but i think he’s a stupid right-leaning asshole. my mom died five years ago. i’m an only child.  ”

AZALEA: What’s a movie you cried while watching?

“  bold of you to assume i don’t cry while watching  every  movie.  ”

DANDELION: Do you think you’re important?

“  fucking joyous. i wake up every day and like don’t even want to die. that shit they say about dating someone you were already friends with is fucking true man. it’s  that  good.  and the pussy game is fucking immaculate. here ye’ here ye’ i must scream it from the rooftops.  ”

“  i shouldn’t be saying this... but freya.  ”

FREYA: maybe!

FREYA: but i'm so so so busy

FREYA: unless there's something in it for me ofc

CAS: i mean

CAS: [...]

FREYA: hm

FREYA: passes ig

FREYA: but i was thinking a funky pattern. b bold

CAS: maybe you should

FREYA: [...]

FREYA: hey! if ur texting to ask if u should get watermelon patterned swim shorts, the answer is no

CAS: oh

CAS: [...]

If you laid beneath the sun for an unspecified - unknown, too - amount of time; you’d soon feel like an egg, potentially - sunny-side up, laid out on the sidewalk. Except the sidewalk had been a beach towel not suited for your height, head and feet sticking out from either end; hair filled with sand, and your heels burning against it, too. You’d feel like Cain, potentially - face slathered in sunscreen and hair pushed back with an awfully neon headband; rest of them covered head to toe in clothes; a sweater, typical pants - leather gloves, always leather gloves. It’d been a miracle that they hadn’t been cooked alive, already - though it’d only been May, and it’d only been Cape Cod, something about the sun, and the climate, maybe. Who knew. Cain hadn’t - only that the sun had been obstructed, suddenly, and they opened their eyes, peered up at the silhouette, “I have a doctor’s note - no, va-volleyball uh, all w-week. Purely a sp-spectator.” They dug through their pocket, produced said note - waved it in the air, for evidence, “Head’s - uh, fragile. Like fucking - china plates, or s-something. Want piña colada in a can? It - uh, comes in a can, n-now.” A finger pointed to said can - note wrinkled in their fist - it’d been buried into the sand, partially, to keep it standing.

Agreeably, Syd held out the cigarette. It was half spent and smouldering in the junction between her fingers, and wide hazel eyes settled on his as they spoke. “Gina’s nice,” she replied, despite the fact that she didn’t really know the other girl– but it felt like the right thing to say. She was good at that, conjuring the right and the nice thing to say. Her lips curled up, “Think Prof Cohen would be into it? Kinky. Might have to send him a pic in an email to get my grade up.” They both knew she was top of the class. “What about you?” She asked, lifting her chin slightly. “What do you think?”