Teals watched the carefully put together box that was sitting in front of him. It sat untouched in the spot that he had placed it in upon taking his seat in the cafe. Joseph sat with one elbow resting on the table, his chin sitting in his palm. There was a touch of sadness that lingered in that gaze, behind the uncertainty. Why? Because he wasnt sure what would happen next. The assignment that they had been working on together was over now. Which meant there could be no other reason for Caesar to need to see him. Unless he wanted to. And how could he expect that from him? He wasnt even sure if he retained any of his memories at all. Maybe all of this was just his chasing ghosts in hope to capture something that he missed out on.

The dreams didnt help. Every thing he found that reminded him of his recent past with Caesar had his heart aching for some kind of relief. It almost felt like he was going through a second phase of mourning over him, despite the fact that he was there before him. And he was alive. If only there was some way to tell. Granted, he had invited Caesar here to meet him. With the hope that talking to him might stir up some kind of real friendship between them beyond their single class together. A feeble attempt to drum up some old memories. That was Joseph's hope, anyway.

On the table sat a box of wonderfully fresh zeppoles. Why this desert? Well mostly as a joke in spite of himself. He'd accidentally called them Zeppeli without thinking. A hard hint that the blond occupied his mind more often than not, especially now.

I hope this goes well. Caesar and I had a rough start before. But... it's different now, isnt it.

questions for the mun!

💗 - Do you prefer angst or fluff?

          /If I had to choose, probably angst. A lot of plot ideas I have saved revolve around very angst-driven plots, mostly because I can potentially see the most character development in them. I like plots or circumstances that challenge my characters, when they’re shown new perspectives or even things that may come to haunt them in retrospect. Or when something/someone shines a light on their deepest insecurities and they’re forced to confront the harsh reality of it, for better or for worse. As to what may happen next, I suppose that really depends on the other muse in question, acquaintance, friend, lover, enemy, etc... but that initial conflict opens more possibilities for something to develop plot-wise later down the road and maybe even deepen character relationships and/or their understanding for one another.

          Don’t get me wrong, I do love me some fluff (I’m soft, okay?). I tend to dabble in a little bit of everything with my own motley crew here and whatever themes or topics I choose to write mostly depends on the day or which muse I’m feeling strongest. Anton is usually my go-to muse for fluff and feel-good content because let’s be honest, he is a ball of sunshine. A ball of sunshine with a tragic fate of dying young because he sold his soul to a demon of incredible power asfkjhfkjhkj-- but that’s besides the point. There are days where I just need to let him go ham and be silly to lift my spirits and make myself feel better. It might not be gripping or compelling plot-wise, but sometimes we all just need a little pick-me-up you know? Nothing wrong with that.

💝 - Who are some rpers you look up to?

          /Here’s a few awesome people I can throw out off the top of my head, free of charge:

@regnantlight (Not only is pretty much the whole LoZ community amazing with how warm and welcoming they are to aspiring new faces, but CC herself is an incredible source of positivity to have on the dash. She’s thoughtful and well-spoken and I love reading through her rendition of Zelda which she captures beautifully.)

@zelotae (Mars is not only a badass writer but she’s also one of those people who if you’re riding the fence about something, she will tell you to just fucking do it and enable you to the bitter end. I personally love having that kind of freedom when writing AND the trust in someone enough to do it without feeling guilty or like I’m overstepping boundaries. But then we got Mars over here who just says: bring it on. Again and again and again. Most of my violent threads have been facilitated by Mars in us both wanting to see our muses clash, so by now you know who to go to for a good time.)

          Some honorable mentions who’s posts/threads/headcanons I love to read on the dash, but am too shy to say anything of substance afsjghhjg:

@royalreef, @stagtic, @bigveee, @quirofiliac, @creepiitus, @shikkotsunin

abuse !

“Come here, Caesar.”

“When you laugh like that, it just — you’re so beautiful, you know that?” @shabcn​

A scoff as he turned his head to the side. Of course he was more than aware of how attractive he was.

❛ It's okay to be jealous. Just tell him your feelings. ❜ Advised Caesar, but this is also the guy who would get jealous and not confess a thing either.

“Learn from an expert, Jojo.” Smug asf smirk.

secret drabble for @shabcn​ ! 

Zarina noticed the way the warmth settles in her chest on the day when they yet once again argued about some stupid things, her taunts and teases were met with boisterous replies and bright expression. Caesar never made her feel bored, the way he so earnestly showed her some of his reactions made everything feel much better. It reminded her of her own home where the house was warm and the sound of laughter echoed as her extended family visited. The sound of Slavic music combined with Tatar music, her parents singing on different languages, she and Victor dancing around with little Aleksey. Comforting, she’d call Zeppeli’s presence. He feels like Home.

The fact that he reminded her of home hits her harder than she expected today, leading her to steal glances of his statue every once in a while as he was going back and forth in the kitchen. Perhaps, the smell of the food adds to her longing for that familiar warmth. The book on her lap was closed a long time ago as she remained on the couch, waiting and quietly watching the Italian hum and go around. It was going on for a while now. But she remains in her place, placing her arms on the back of the sofa as she turns her upper body to the right to watch the kitchen from her side. Caesar’s not looking, he is too eager to finish the masterpiece and she’s too hungry to fight him today for the kitchen rule. But it’s warm, it reminds her of her mother and father, and of Victor with Margarita. It’s another strike to her icy heart, the glaciers inside her mind melt in his company ever since she first noticed this warmth. What a ridiculous understanding, she feels like a fool for not noticing this before. But then again, she’s still so stupidly human despite how her true nature was colder than the snow and ice. 

So dangerous, she thinks to herself as she smirks and decides to let her eyes wander a bit. To outline the expanse of his back, to his shoulders, to the bandana he’s wearing, to fluffy blonde hair, to his arms moving around as he cooks, to his waist, and then she has to stop and shake her head because this is getting ridiculous. She’s not an artist and he’s not a model she’d tarnish with her awful art skills. 

Zarina wonders if he noticed her staring or he’s just too preoccupied to even look at her. It doesn’t matter right now as the Russian lets out a soft sigh. Unlike the usual bickering, she allows herself to relax and to show the side she usually shows to her family and her team alone: the relaxed, laid-back, but serious woman who got the names of she-wolf for a reason. But bickering with him is fun, it’s fulfilling and satisfying. Even more so when she knows the lingering stare he gave her lips, the want she noticed but didn’t call him out on it. 

Not yet. 

There’s something more besides her appreciating his appearance and his sweetness, it stops her from being aggressive and pushing him to the bed. It’s not just a physical want like with so many other ‘lovers’ she had to satisfy her. Sokolova feels the sharp wish to have him for herself, greediness beyond her control. The possessive feeling that comes from a single wish to have this sunflower bloom for her. It makes her wonder if he’ll survive the winter while still shining so brightly. 

Ah, she wants him and him alone. Any other man and woman lost her interest, they all seem dull and boring. Their touches now seemed so cold, so sticky, so disgusting. She wants him and him alone, to touch her and she wants to break his composure. She wants to see the fire light up in his eyes against the ice of her soul, she wants to see if this warmth will teach her something knew. Perhaps, he can even learn of her deepest wish and desire, but... 

She can’t promise him Heavens, her scars already proved she survived through Hell and came back. She can’t promise him safety and peace, her personality already proved she was not nice or saccharine sweet. She can’t promise him she’ll change, she’s too inflexible to change her views or erase her dangerous lifestyle.

But what she can promise him is that she’ll stay. She can promise she’ll only look at him and she’ll adore him alone until the day she dies. Love… Sokolova wonders if she looks at him like Victor looks at Margarita or her mother looks at her father or vice versa? Zarina wonders if this warmth will be her new weakness she’ll have to hide, but it doesn’t matter. It just doesn’t, her selfish wish is much more important than anything else. Self-centered tunnel vision makes her concentrate on her plan to seduce him once and for all ( as if she doesn’t know the thing she does to his heart, the teasings and the taunts that brings so much ). 

When she learned she liked him, it was a one-way road with no turnbacks. She just wants to feel his warmth by her side until it’s all over. She wants him for herself and to not let any other ‘signorina’ to take ahold of his hand or taste his lips. They’re mine, she catches herself on the train of thought. It’s not jealousy, it’s a simple assertion of dominance over those who she clearly doesn’t even see as rivals. Maybe, she should just go for it today. Drop it altogether, drag him by the apron to let their lips meet and to tell him she wants him to belong with her, to her, and she’d be the way. 

She’d love him like the Devil loves chaos, she’d love him like no one else would. 

Yeah, why not? 

“Hey, Caesar, are you done already?” The way she calls him out while getting up from the couch is not laced with any mischief, just pure curiosity. Her amber eyes flicker a bit before she shakes her head and steps towards the kitchen. She wants to hold him, to hear his heartbeat, to wake up next to him. He feels like home, like a bright under the sun but with the breeze, like a sunflower’s sunshine. 

“If you’re not done yet, I’m just going to eat you instead of dinner.” She drops yet another line that can taken in so many different ways, shameless in the way she presents herself and her desires. Lies always follow the truths, but today she feels that being a bit more honest and blunt would give her the jackpot she so desperately wants for herself. 

She should have expected it, those lips were ready to charm themselves onto her cheek.

And she would give a kiss of her own right back, but in place of her lips, there was a blur of motion followed by the sharp crack of her palm on his cheek.