#Thread: steal from the rich and give to the me

[sublimeflowoftime]

Main Street isn't quite as bustling as it would be during the summer months, but that also means there are less eyes on you if you decide to do a little sightseeing. Here, you can observe the elite in their natural environment: sharing tea and gossip in the warmth of a cozy cafe, going to fittings for gowns and suits that must outdo their competitors at the upcoming gala, depositing charitable proceeds into their own personal treasuries, and--hold on, they're stealing? As it turns out, some (read: almost all) members of Pearl Shoals haven't acquired wealth the good and honest way. And what's more: everyone seems to know that everyone else is lining their own pockets, they just turn a blind eye to it. In order to maintain your cover, you'll have to hide your disgust over this fact. This isn't your mission, after all. But can you restrain your heart from yearning for vigilante justice? Or maybe you have to convince your moral-bound friends from causing a scene. Whatever the case, you have to play it cool. [Grants Faith +1]

Reasonably speaking, what these people decide to do is none of her business. It’s not her job to care. Her job (unofficial as it may or may not be) is to keep an eye on the students and faculty sent to gather intel, and bail them out of whatever mess arises when they inevitably fail one way or another. Disgraceful as it may be, if a noble decides to stick their hand into another’s fundraising tin — in broad daylight, no less! — it is, regrettably, not her problem to deal with.

Nor is it her problem when the robbed ‘charity’ runner becomes the robber of their neighbor organization. Or then another robber the robbed. Or…

…She’s starting to see a pattern here.

The clink of coins resounding about aren’t the sound of new generosity joining the old, it’s that same generosity being relocated. Redistributed elsewhere, yet somehow in amounts that seem to shrink each time, judging by lightening pitch of the sound. And it doesn’t quite require genius-level intelligence to infer where the missing quantity is going…

Sothis narrows her eyes at the one who started it all. (Or, probably not all, things like this tend to be a culture built up over years of repeated behaviors, but at the very least started the chain reaction started now.) Not even the slightest hint of remorse in that noble expression. Only a smile. As if they had done something good — something to be proud of.

…Well, if they don’t mind it…

“You! You’re affiliated with the Officer’s Academy, correct?” Sothis grabs onto the semi-familiar girl beside her in the crowd, giving a quick once-over to the stranger before continuing her ‘pitch’. She’s not as familiar as some other students and faculty have come to be to here, even if they don’t know it, but the attire and mannerisms line up well enough regardless of any lack of personal recognition. She’ll do fine.

“I am Sothis, a… helper, for this mission.” The girl smiles her most trustworthy smile at her new partner, nodding in the direction of the noble-turned-thief-turned-target. “But never mind me! You see that overdressed fellow over there? I’m sure you can tell as well as I that one is up to no good. If you can draw their attention for a short while, I shall enact a swift retribution! And retrieve us both a little ‘evidence’ as a bonus, too, hehe. What say you?”

@sanakialtina

steal from the rich and give to the me

[sunrenity]

RICH CEOㅤ⟡ㅤPJS

ㅤㅤㅤ ( ✦ )ㅤㅤthe look of love , the rush of blood

precis : rich ceo + boyfriend ! jay headcannons.

박정성ㅤ୨୧ㅤrich ceo ! jay x 𝒻em readerㅤ..ㅤoffice auㅤ/ㅤkissing, small making out sceneㅤㅤ( 1187 )

rich ceo ! jay who walks into the office every morning with an aura so commanding it’s impossible not to notice him. his tailored suits are sharp, and his wristwatch probably costs more than your annual salary. yet, there’s something about his subtle smirks and occasional soft glances that makes him feel human—almost approachable.

rich ceo ! jay who first notices you during a quarterly meeting where you presented a report with quiet confidence. while others were fixated on the data, he found himself focused on the way you spoke, your poise, and how you handled questions with ease.

rich ceo ! jay who goes out of his way to request you for additional projects, subtly pulling you closer into his professional orbit. at first, you think it’s because you’re a hard worker, but his lingering gazes and occasional compliments give him away.

rich ceo ! jay who promotes you to his secretary under the guise of needing someone "competent" in his corner, but in reality, he wants you near him. he thrives on seeing you daily, finding excuses to call you into his office just to hear your voice or catch a glimpse of your smile.

rich ceo ! jay who starts showing his softer side once you work closely with him. he offers you coffee during late nights at the office and remembers the exact way you like it. his teasing remarks about your "overly neat desk" turn into genuine appreciation for your meticulousness.

rich ceo ! jay who surprises you one evening after a stressful day by handing you a small, perfectly wrapped gift—a designer pen. “for someone as hardworking as you,” he says with a boyish grin, and your heart stutters at how genuine he looks.

rich ceo ! jay who becomes more protective of you as your relationship grows. he subtly shields you from office gossip and keeps his tone neutral in front of others but softens the moment the two of you are alone.

rich ceo ! jay who never fails to make you blush with his low whispers during meetings. “you look stunning today,” he murmurs while leaning over to review a document, and the proximity sends shivers down your spine.

rich ceo ! jay who corners you one evening after hours, the office eerily quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside. you’re standing by his desk, trying to explain a report, but his gaze is fixed on your lips, not the papers.

“do you know how hard it is to focus when you’re around?” he murmurs, his voice deep and laden with something you’ve only recently begun to recognize as longing. before you can respond, his hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing your jawline.

the kiss starts gentle, almost hesitant, as if he’s giving you the chance to pull away. but when you kiss him back, threading your fingers through his perfectly styled hair, he deepens it, his other hand gripping your waist and pulling you closer.

he kisses you with a controlled passion that mirrors his personality—firm yet considerate, dominant yet attentive. his lips are soft but insistent, and when he nips at your lower lip, you can’t help the soft gasp that escapes you.

jay breaks away only to rest his forehead against yours, his breathing uneven. “you drive me crazy, you know that?” he whispers, his hands still holding you close. “but we can’t—someone might see.”

yet, even as he says it, he leans in again, stealing another kiss, this one slower and deeper, as if he’s memorizing the way you taste before reluctantly letting you go.

jay adjusts his tie afterward, the picture of calm despite his flushed cheeks and slightly disheveled hair. “let’s continue this conversation at my place later,” he says with a smirk, leaving you breathless and craving more.

boyfriend ! jay who officially asks you out after weeks of toeing the line between professional and romantic. one night, after a particularly intense dinner meeting, he drives you home and confesses, “i can’t keep pretending this is just work between us. say yes to dinner—just the two of us.”

boyfriend ! jay who is surprisingly soft behind closed doors. gone is the sharp-tongued ceo; instead, he’s the jay who wraps his arms around you from behind while you’re working late, murmuring, “come to bed. the office can wait”

boyfriend ! jay who announces your relationship to the company in the most dramatic yet endearing way. during an employee event, he casually intertwines your fingers and says, “by the way, this incredible woman here is taken—by me.” the shocked gasps and applause still make you cringe, but he wears his smug grin like a badge of honor.

boyfriend ! jay who takes pride in spoiling you, whether it’s slipping your favorite snack onto your desk, booking surprise weekend getaways, or casually gifting you designer outfits for “work events” (that he insists are mandatory).

boyfriend ! jay who makes sure everyone knows how lucky he feels to have you. “you’re dating jongseong?” a coworker asks, wide-eyed. “yeah,” you reply, and their response is always, “he talks about you all the time.”

boyfriend ! jay who insists on driving you to work every morning, even if it’s out of his way. “what’s the point of being a ceo if i can’t take care of my girl?” he teases, holding the car door open for you like a gentleman.

boyfriend ! jay who doesn’t care about rumors in the office but always keeps things professional during work hours. however, he can’t resist winking at you during meetings or sending cheeky texts like, “you’re distracting me in that outfit. can’t wait for lunch.”

boyfriend ! jay who makes you fall even harder when he introduces you to his parents. you’re nervous, but he’s calm and reassuring, his hand never leaving yours as he tells them, “this is the woman i’ve been telling you about.”

boyfriend ! jay who insists on calling you during every business trip, even if it’s just to say goodnight. “i miss you,” he admits, his voice soft over the phone. “but don’t worry—i’ll be home before you know it.”

boyfriend ! jay who loves holding your hand in public. whether it’s at a gala or on a casual date night, he keeps you close, fingers intertwined, as if silently saying, she’s mine, and i’m hers.

boyfriend ! jay who doesn’t hesitate to shut down any flirtation from others. when a new hire starts getting too friendly, he calmly but firmly says, “i’m spoken for. and she’s more than enough for me.”

boyfriend ! jay who wakes you up with breakfast in bed on weekends. “don’t move,” he warns, placing the tray in front of you. it’s always perfect—coffee just how you like it, fresh fruit, and pancakes shaped like hearts.

boyfriend ! jay who plans an elaborate anniversary surprise that includes a private rooftop dinner under fairy lights. when you jokingly call him a hopeless romantic, he grins. “only for you.”

boyfriend ! jay who ends every day with an “i love you,” whispered against your hair as he pulls you closer in bed. no matter how stressful his work gets, you’re his safe space, and he makes sure you know it.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Sherwood Forest

Pairing: Kiefer Sherwood x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: You give Kiefer a new nickname or two or three.

Notes: I am first and foremost a Quinn girlie but I do love Kiefer and I also can't help but calling him any sort of Robin hood reference so...

This is short, but I felt like writing it. I feel like Kiefer is the cocky, smooth kind of guy that makes you melt a little even when he's a little crude and rough around the edges.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

Kiefer is the last to leave the locker room after the game, to the point where you admittedly grow bored of waiting for him out in the corridor. He doesn't seem to hear you enter, even as the door shuts behind you, his back to you as he messes with a strap on his bucket.

Your boyfriend is so engrossed with fiddling with the strap that you can't help but be amused even if you really want to go home already. He's not even in his suit yet and it baffles you how he's managed to get distracted by something so unnecessary, something the equipment manager will likely fix for him anyway.

"Hey there, Robin Hood," You feel the way Sherwood's shoulders jump underneath you as you sneak up behind his sitting form, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing your chin to the top of his traps.

He groans, setting the helmet off to the side of the bench, "Is that really what you're calling me now, sweetheart?" His face turns towards you, brown eyes peering over at you with fond amusement.

"Mmmhmm, cause you steal from the rich, the other team, and give to the poor, the Canucks..." You're joking, mostly...although, his 2 goals tonight might have made the joke a little more relevant. His ability to steal pucks on top form along with his hit ratio. He'd had an excellent game and you could feel how upbeat his mood was in the playful way he entertained you, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Or because my last name is Sherwood?"

"Do you not like it? I thought I was being creative, you guys always give each other nicknames...I'll stop if you want?" He might be playful with you, but you don't want to force Kief to be called something if he genuinely hates it. There's a slight anxiety that maybe you've overstepped the mark.

You can't help the laugh that slips out when his arms reach for you pulling you into his lap, until you're firmly pressed against him, arms over his shoulders, "You can call me whatever you want, sweetheart," he grins up at you as you push a dark curl away from his cheek and behind his ear. It's started to grow out even more, along with the scruff on his cheeks and never fails to make him look like some sort of medieval knight.

"Anything?" You grin down at him, working a hand into his hair, fingers gently threading through his curls and working out the few knots you find.

"Anything." His hands squeeze your hips, pulling you more firmly onto his lap.

You think for a moment about what you could call him that he might hate, grinning as you ask, "Pookie?"

"I can deal." He nods serious like the idea isn't completely ridiculous, like calling a 6ft, 195lbs man pookie wasn't some sort of crime against humanity.

"Snookums?"

"Might ruin my reputation with the guys, but for you? Sure." You laugh, imagining the reaction of the entire locker room if you turned up one day and loudly proclaimed him your snookums, he might be their heavy hitter but his reputation might take an even heavier hit.

"Toots?"

"Mm, shouldn't I call you that? But, yeah, fine, call me toots." Kiefer's hands slide up to your waist, holding you there as his fingers flex, eyes admiring as he watches the way you come up with idea after idea, more ridiculous each time.

"Bubba? Old man? Doodlebug? Lovey?"

"Seriously, anything. I would let you call me the worst, most embarrassing names on the planet...as long as I get to call you mine." He smirks at you at the end, proud of himself with the line he just dropped and the way it makes you look away, bashful but smiling, face scrunched up.

"Oh, that was smooth..." You love and hate how it makes you feel giddy like a school girl when you're in fact in your 20s and most definitely too old for feeling that way over a boy.

"Y'like that?" Kiefer drops his voice down low, pulling you until your hips straddle his own and you're as close as you can possibly get.

"Mmm, old man, yeah, I liked that. I like you..." You hide your face into his shoulder, cheeks incredibly warm and heart racing a frantic pace.

"Well, that's a relief, it'd fucking suck if my girlfriend didn't like me."

"You're such a pain!" You lift your head up, cheeks puffing out as you roll your eyes at him, hand whacking him lightly on the shoulder. Not that any hit you could give him would hurt, Kiefer was built like a brick wall and knew how to take a hit.

"Oh, I'm a pain? You just went through every embarrassing name for me you could, and I'm the pain, sweetheart?"

He grins at you, the sort of grin that should have warned you he was up to no good because mere moments later the fingers at your waist are no longer just resting there, but digging in, tickling you at the most sensitive spots he can find.

"Kief! Stop!" You're laughing involuntarily even as you say it, hands trying to shove his away, but he holds you against himself as his fingers reach for every weak spot you have, "You're being mean!"

You're certain you might wet yourself with how hard he's tickling you and it's your screeching that finally gets Kief to let up for a moment to offer you a deal. You're panting as he meets your eye.

"Okay, okay...I'll stop...if I get a kiss." His teeth show as he smiles at you, clearly proud of himself like a little school boy.

"No." You refuse, even though secretly you want to kiss him. But, he'd been mean and you couldn't reward his bad behaviour surely?

"No? You won't kiss your boyfriend who just won a game?"

"Not when he's being mean." You pout at him as if you have the upper hand, as if he doesn't have all the power in this scenario, it's cute, but naïve.

"Oh? I'll show you mean." You should have expected it really, the way his fingers immediately reach back for your waist, digging, tickling until you can't breathe again, until you concede defeat and offer him up a kiss.

"Okay, okay! Fine, I'll kiss you, Sherwood Forest."

"Seriously?" He rolls his eyes at the nickname, another one to add to the books, even as he's grinning at you and his victory.

"Do you not want that kiss now?" You're a bit bratty today and he kind of likes it, kind of thinks he should make your life harder for it too, but decides he really just wants that kiss.

"Don't you dare take my kiss away, Maid Marian," He threatens you before pressing his lips to yours, insistent, firm, not exactly gentle not that many things about Kiefer are. His fingers are gripping your hips tight and the scruff on his face scratches and still you can't help but lean into him, opening your mouth against his.

"That was bad," You laugh against his lips as you pull back slightly, noses brushing like the way his lashes brush the apples of his cheeks when he smiles down at you.

"Not as bad a snookums."

[winternet-s]

MISUNDERSTOOD ( slam dunk )

summary : After moving to Japan over a year ago, [Name] faces the challenges of xenophobia, cultural barriers, and fitting into a society that sees her as an outsider. As she struggles with isolation, an unexpected encounter with Hanamichi Sakuragi, the school's notorious red-haired delinquent, throws her life into even more chaos. Between harsh whispers in the hallways and the surprising friendships she forms, [Name] is about to discover that fitting in means more than just blending into the background.

notes: writing long chapters is harder than what i thought 🧍🏿‍♀️

warnings: praying ? i mean ik many people who got religion trauma so .. skip that part if you're uncomfy !

wc: 2,8k

MASTERLIST

II. RUKAWA KAEDE

— A NEW DAY HAD SHOWN, [NAME] was sat, the rhythmic sway of the train's embrace, melodies weave through her mind as she had her earphones plugged in her ears minding her business, not fully noticing the elderly woman standing up right in front of her. Until she spotted a group of girls wearing the same uniform as her, lowering the music she took time to listen to their words. 

Their hushed words waltz in the air, "That old lady's standing right in front of her but she's just sitting there." a clandestine critique veiled in camaraderie,"Pretty girls are usually ugly inside." exchanged between conspiring lips. 

None of her actions escaped the sharp tongues of critics, each step weighed and found wanting, their eyes turning into a relentless microscope. [name] paid no mind to their words she simply stood up letting her place for the older woman. 

In the quiet train where the curious would glance at her figure, only to turn onto surprised one. With a swift unfeeling kick, tranquility is shattered for the man who was asleep, the dreamer is torn from his cocoon of rest. Abruptly waking up, blurry vision, once clear he spoke up to [name].

"W-What's gotten into you..?"Stammered the old man, slowly but surely waking up.

"Your leg was in my way!" Hearing this was enough for the stranger to apologize, cheeks faintly turning rose. However a stream of discontent pierces the air like a mournful wail.

". . tss foreigners are troublesome." Each word drips with dissatisfaction, hearing this [name] couldn't help but lean towards the woman. Her gentle breath brushing against the skin, leaning in with careful intent, she whispered into her ear.

"Stealing while he is asleep isn't brave of you, and am I really troublesome? That's rich coming from a thief." Her words are a secret troubling the gray haired woman, mocking yet honest. 

"I don't know what you're t-talking about." 

Caught in the web of deceit, words tangled like threads, she had the weight of the truth pressed against her lips. It was as if the cold stare that the teeanger was giving to her froze her on the seat, struggling to break free from her stare. She built a lie. A lame lie.

"You will reap what you sow one day."

[name] walked away, leaving behind a lingering silence that echoes the unresolved tension in the air. 

'How did she noticed?!' was the only thing pondering her thoughts.

—

AS THE TRAIN PULLED into the station, [Name] disembarked, her steps measured and purposeful, the muted music now a faint echo in her ears. She walked the familiar path to school, her gaze unwavering, her thoughts a fortress against the world's intrusions.

Entering the school gates, she found herself amidst the throng of students, their chatter a constant hum. Suddenly, a voice called out, clear and bright above the noise."[Name]!" Haruko's face lit up as she approached, her enthusiasm a stark contrast to the cool detachment of [Name].

"Morning," [Name] replied, her tone even, her expression unchanging.

"I'm so glad I caught you!" Haruko continued, undeterred. "Sakuragi was looking for me earlier. Do you know anything about it?"

[Name] raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued despite herself. "No. But knowing Sakuragi, it's probably something ridiculous."

Haruko awkwardly laughed, a sound as light as spring rain. "You're probably right. Anyway, there's something else. Are you okay? You look lost in your thoughts. "

[Name] sighed inwardly, "Just wondering when will I feel at home. Plus I might have acted before thinking..."

The brunette felt a pang of guilt and reached out to gently touch [Name]'s arm. "Hey, don't worry. It takes time to adjust. You're doing great, really. And everyone can see how strong you are."

[Name] gave a small smile, appreciating the comfort. "Thanks, Haruko. I guess I just need to give it more time." The bell rang, signaling the end of their break, and the two girls began walking toward their classroom. As they approached, a group of classmates, known for their hypocrite attitudes, called out to [Name].

"Hey, [Name]! We're going to karaoke after school. You should come with us," one of the girls said with a deceptively sweet smile.

[Name] intensely stared at them, sensing the invitation was more of a trap than a friendly gesture. Haruko noticed the exchange and gave [Name] a supportive nod. "It's okay, you don't have to go if you don't want to," she whispered.

[Name] mustered a polite decline. "No thanks."

The group shrugged and moved on, leaving [Name] feeling a bit relieved. As they entered the classroom, Haruko's eyes sparkled with a sudden thought. "Oh, I almost forgot! Hanamichi wants to talk to me, I'm a bit nervous and..I would love if you come with me."

Curious, and in need of a distraction, [Name] agreed. After the final bell rang, she made her way to the designated spot, finding Hanamichi's gang crouched behind a bush, clearly up to something.

—

"What's going on?" [Name] whispered, crouching down beside them. Startled by the new voice in his ears, the red head abruptly turned his face to the owner, a mischievous grin on his face. "We're spying on Haruko. I need to know what she thinks about Rukawa."

The girl crouched before him, her movements smooth and deliberate. Despite the so called serious situation, there was an air of quiet confidence about her, as if she had done this a thousand times before. Her posture was relaxed, her presence comforting, and the slight tilt of her lips made it clear she was fully aware of the chaos unfolding inside Hanamichi’s mind.

"Be honest with her," she said softly, her voice gentle but firm. She looked him straight in the eyes, as if daring him to actually listen for once. "And do not scare her. You can be quite aggressive sometimes."

Hanamichi blinked, taken aback. "Aggressive? Me? I’m the gentlest guy around!" His voice came out louder than intended, and she raised an eyebrow in response, clearly unconvinced.

She sighed, the kind of sigh you give a toddler who insists they're a superhero but keeps tripping over their cape. "Yeah, sure. Just don't... you know, get too excited. Try to keep it cool."

Hanamichi puffed out his chest. "Cool? I’m always cool." He raised a fist, dramatically flexing, clearly imagining himself as the picture of composure.

"Uh-huh." Her expression remained deadpan, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. She was already bracing herself for whatever disaster Hanamichi was about to cause. "Also, don’t make things weird. And the most important thing—"

Hanamichi leaned in closer, his face full of sudden intensity. "The most important thing? What is it?!"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, giving him a serious look that made him gulp. “Don’t—”

He leaned in closer, eyes wide.

“Do anything stupid.”

A beat passed. Hanamichi froze, blinking rapidly, his brain slowly processing the weight of the advice. "What? Me? Do something stupid?! I—"

But before he could finish, she gave him a light thump on the forehead with her knuckle. "Yes, you. Now go out there, don't overthink it, and try not to be a complete disaster."

Hanamichi rubbed his forehead, looking slightly hurt but still confused. "Oi, oi, what’s with the forehead flick? I got this! I’m not gonna mess it up!"

She stood up, her expression still calm but the teasing edge clear in her smile. "Let’s hope so. I have faith in you... sort of."

"Sort of?!" Hanamichi's voice shot up an octave, but she had already turned on her heel, giving him a quick wave as she walked away.

Hanamichi took a deep breath, straightening his back. "Just you wait! I’ll show her how brilliant I am!" He smirked, his confidence surging. “I’m a genius, after all!”

He let out a loud, boisterous laugh, throwing his head back as if the universe was about to recognize his unparalleled greatness. “Hahahaha! Who wouldn’t fall for a genius like me?!”

As the sound of his laughter echoed, the girl shook her head, a smile creeping onto her face. "If I recall correctly, I'm the second person who rejected you, anyways I gotta go!" she called back, leaving Hanamichi with a blend of determination and slight embarrassment.

Meanwhile, the four others that were present were amused by the scene instantly noticing the change in their friend. Moments ago, Hanamichi had radiated confidence—his usual boisterous self, the self-proclaimed genius. But now, his demeanor was entirely different.

Hanamichi stood there, blinking in a daze. The trademark swagger he wore so proudly seemed to crumble away with each passing second. His eyes darted from the path where [Name] had left him to his group of friends, a flush creeping steadily up his neck and into his cheeks. His fingers absentmindedly brushed over the spot where she'd lightly tapped his forehead, his mind replaying her words on a loop.

"I wasn’t too aggressive… was I?" he mumbled to himself, barely audible. He suddenly felt like a child caught in the act of something mischievous, rather than the towering presence he often tried to be.

"Come on, Hanamichi!" Nozomi nudged him with an elbow, his grin wide. "You really thought that’d work? The ol’ 'date me' approach?"

Mito chuckled, shaking his head. "It’s okay, man. It’s all part of the learning process. You’re two rejections in, but who's counting?"

"Shut up!" Hanamichi shot back, though his heart wasn’t in it. The teasing didn’t even faze him this time. Instead, his mind was fixated on the brief yet charged exchange with [Name]—the calm way she handled herself, how she wasn't swept up by his dramatic antics. And worse, how she had called him… aggressive.

"Did I come off too strong?" he asked, a rare hint of vulnerability seeping into his voice. "She wasn’t scared of me or something, right?"

His friends shared knowing glances, all too familiar with Hanamichi’s tendency to bulldoze through situations without fully realizing the consequences. But before they could offer any more insight, Hanamichi straightened up and puffed his chest out once more, as if trying to reclaim his lost confidence.

"Doesn't matter!" Hanamichi declared, forcing the usual bravado back into his tone. "I’m a genius! She’ll come around eventually!"

But the resolve in his voice didn’t quite match the uncertainty in his eyes.

—

As [Name] walked away from the scene, frustration bubbled inside her. The encounter in the train had left her uneasy. Feeling the weight of everything, she found herself drawn to the nearest bathroom. Once inside, she locked herself in one of the stalls, pressing her hands against her temples and breathing deeply. Her head was spinning from the whirlwind of emotions. Leaning back against the door, she whispered a quiet prayer under her breath.

"God, help me. I don’t know how to deal with this anymore." Her voice was soft, almost pleading. "I don’t want to be rude. I don’t want to push people away. But… I’m tired. Tired of always feeling like an outsider. Tired of fighting to belong. Forgive me if I’ve been harsh, if I’ve judged too quickly." She paused, swallowing hard as her hands clasped together. "Please give me strength… and patience. I’m trying, I really am."

The words hung in the air for a moment, her whispered prayer fading into the quiet of the bathroom. As she opened her eyes, she stared blankly at the tiled floor, wondering if any of it would get easier. Would the misunderstandings lessen? Would the constant feeling of being an outsider ever fade?

Before she could get too lost in her thoughts, the bathroom door creaked open, and familiar voices floated in, immediately pulling her back to reality. She stiffened, recognizing the sharp laughter—it was her bullies. She stayed silent, her breath caught in her throat, as she listened.

"Did you see the look on her face on the train earlier?" one of them sneered, her voice laced with venom. "The audacity to call out that old woman like she’s some kind of saint. Who does she think she is?"

"I know, right?" another voice chimed in, her tone equally cruel. "Just because she’s a foreigner doesn’t mean she gets to lecture people. She always acts like she’s above everyone. It’s pathetic."

"Honestly, I’m not surprised she rejected Hanamichi. She probably thinks no one's good enough for her." Their laughter grew louder, each comment more cutting than the last. "I bet she couldn't even understand what he was saying with that terrible accent of hers."

The laughter that followed was harsh and bitter, each word stinging like salt in a wound. [Name] could feel her pulse quicken, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to steady herself. They were talking about her as if she weren’t human—as if she were some sort of novelty, different because she wasn’t like them.

"You know, it’s only a matter of time before she messes up," one of the girls added, her tone dripping with malice. "She’ll make a fool of herself, and we’ll all be there to see it."

The door creaked again as the girls left, their mocking laughter fading down the hallway. Silence returned to the bathroom, but it felt heavy, suffocating. [Name] stared at her reflection in the mirror, her chest tight. She had known they talked about her, of course. The whispers, the sideways glances—it had all been there since day one. But hearing it so openly, so unapologetically cruel, made her stomach turn.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to push the bitterness away. She wasn’t going to let their words define her. She wasn’t going to let their opinions shape how she saw herself.

With one last look at her reflection, she straightened her posture and quietly left the bathroom. Her steps were firm, her head held high, even though inside, she still carried the weight of their cruelty.

‘Lord forgive me for the hatred I have against them and theirs against me.’ She thought.

She took a deep breath, smoothed her uniform, and exited the restroom. As she stepped into the hallway, she noticed Haruko standing nearby, glancing around as if looking for someone.

"[Name]-chan!" Haruko's voice echoed down the corridor as she caught sight of her friend. There was a touch of worry in her bright eyes as she hurried over. "[Name]-chan, where were you? You were supposed to be there when Sakuragi wanted to talk to me!"

[Name] offered a small, apologetic smile, her mind still clouded by the earlier encounter and her tense exchange in the restroom. "Sorry, Haruko-chan," she began, choosing her words carefully. "I just... needed a moment. I had to pray." She shrugged lightly, not wanting to dive into the specifics of what had just transpired.

Haruko’s brows furrowed with concern, her usual brightness dimmed slightly. "Are you okay? You looked... distracted earlier."

[Name] could feel Haruko's worry for her, but she wasn’t ready to burden her friend with the weight of her thoughts—not yet. "I’m fine," she reassured softly. "I just needed to clear my head, that’s all. I'm really sorry if I worried you."

Haruko smiled in understanding, though the concern didn't fully leave her gaze. "You don’t need to apologize. I’m just glad you’re okay."

As the two girls began walking down the hallway, [Name]'s eyes wandered upwards. She blinked in surprise as her gaze fell upon a familiar red-haired figure, standing by the edge of the rooftop, with what seemed to be his friends and another one – and the way he was holding the black hair is far from being affectionate. Hanamichi Sakuragi. His tall frame, his unmistakable vibrant hair—it was hard to miss him, even from a distance.

"Is that... Sakuragi-kun?" [Name] muttered, half to herself, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Haruko followed her gaze and nodded. "Yeah, that’s him. And Mito-kun …And the other one is, Rukawa-kun!?” She exclaimed her voice laced with panic. Before even saying anything the brown hair grabbed her friend’s arm and started leading her towards the staircase.”We have to stop them!”

“No we don’t, but you decided that we had to when we could just tell a teacher.” 

[Name] rambled unsure why she was getting into this drama. But as she glanced at Haruko’s determined face, she gave up on the idea to stop her friend.

As they reached the rooftop entrance, the sound of the voices grew louder, revealing the full scene - Sakuragi with his fist ready to strike, Rukawa standing unbothered, his eyes locked onto Sakuragi’s.

“Stop Sakuragi-kun!” Haruko cried out, at the sound of her voice the boy immediately stopped in his actions - leaving the girl utterly speechless.

“Didn't I told you to not do anything stupid?”

winnie's talk : tumblr mobile is a pain if u wanna write 😮‍💨 like wdym i can't select my own text !? pisses me off ヽ(｀ω´)ﾉ anyways the updates will take more time as i try to make the chapters longer. and it's not easy ( ´△｀) edit : the chapter is boring i'm so sorry !

[zahri-melitor]

Some more coherent thoughts about Gotham War, now it's settled on me.

(Spoilers below cut, for length and as it's still only Wednesday)

It's not a huge surprise, but Selina's whole 'train henches to steal from the rich non-violently!' ended up being a complete side issue that only existed to get the plot moving. Nobody's conception of this plot, in two years time, will really include this detail, despite the thousands of words spent arguing how ridiculous it was.

Yes it remains a poorly thought out plan on Selina's part (she's never heard of earning money legally) but the narrative also frames it as long term ineffective from the very first issue and knocks it down on multiple occasions.

DC editorial definitely tried to dress this up as a full family event, but realistically it was a Bruce, Selina and Jason event, written by their three current writers, with solid bit parts played by Tim and Dick.

Vandal Savage remains ridiculous and ready to sacrifice anyone and I appreciate that about him. As a villain he was just the right level of stakes for this event.

I enjoyed getting to see Scandal, even if her fans would say she got done dirty here. Scandal usually has enough sense not to believe anything Vandal says, and I admit I was somewhat waiting for some level of twist here as to why Scandal was all for immortality at this point in time, but it never came.

I still agree it felt a lot like three separate plotlines intersecting, but I think they managed to land the event successfully (while leaving some nice loose threads). I actually appreciate they didn't overreach in their goals.

It still finished out with two separate plotlines: Bruce and Selina and Jason; and Dick and Tim and the rest of the family. Structurally this again reminded me as much of Resurrection of Ra's Al Ghul as Batman #138 did; the main plot and then the far more interesting Dick & Tim sideplot which is what I go back to reread. (Chip Zdarsky is clearly also a fan)

Also promisingly for an event yes, it did actually shake up the status quo and push the participants off in new directions.

So Bruce is now doing the Loner Batman thing (in that he's locked out of the fam computers/comm lines), Selina is officially 'dead' (what is with all these fake dead people with titles, Penguin is too right now), and Jason has what's effectively permanent fear toxin response to stressful situations. Also, apparently, we are getting Dick and Barbara back 'running' the Batfam while Bruce is on the outs.

As far as Bruce goes, what has been really notable in this event is how much Chip Zdarsky loves early 2000s Bat comics and their dynamics, and particularly Joker's Last Laugh. There's a lot of structural things about how this event was shaped, what specific characters did, and emotional beats that feel very JLL as someone who's read it at least half a dozen times. It's not the only influence, but it's a pretty prominent one.

Bruce ending the event in a position where he's effectively not working with most of the other Bats actually tracks reasonably well over to Batman & Robin, to my surprise. It makes sense that it's just Bruce and Damian and they're focusing on homelife and domestic relationship details between the two. It gives Bruce an excuse for why he's closely focused on Damian there.

I will admit I have not been reading Catwoman, but from the event it seems they're spinning her off to keep moving her back into a more antihero position. Tini Howard clearly has a direction she wants to take Selina.

I actually think this has pretty interesting storytelling potential for Jason. It means that he has to stay calm, or has to overcome his own fear to achieve things. It gives him a goal? Matthew Rosenberg clearly seems interested in using it for his Jason storytelling and he's got Jason right now, so...

I'm personally delighted by how much Tim Zdarsky wrote into this storyline. He used the space more to show off Dick and Tim's brotherhood and what Tim is good at, rather than push the Tim side of the Zur story we're all expecting to occur (there's that waiting Zur-Robin costume). Means he's planning it for Batman as a title itself rather than getting it tangled up here.

"It was the only way to become the second-best Robin". Yes, this is Tim getting to show off his core competencies - he probably is the only Bat other than Bruce who would have extensively studied all the trophies. Dick would remember a lot of them simply because a lot of the trophies are from old adventures, but pretty much all the others are not particularly retrospective, respect the past sort of members of the group, while Tim has always been surrounded by the shadows of the past. I loved this note.

I haven't talked about Babs yet! She's in green, in glasses, sitting down at her computers with a novelty mug, directing everyone, answering to Oracle. That's her! That's my Oracle!

I do think Bruce expecting Dick to take over running the Batfam right now is a big ask, given he's also running the Titans as the main superhero team on the planet and handling Bludhaven, but Tom Taylor's writing both those books so I don't expect to see the stress catching up with Dick there. Benefits of writer choice right now, I guess. Also personally 'Babs and Dick organise everyone while Bruce has a breakdown elsewhere' is one of my favourite Batfam dynamics so you know, I'm pretty excited if we actually get to see this play out.

New Lazarus Pit in Gotham! This won't be a problem at all.

[selamat-linting]

related to last rb but a few years ago i was reading a book about an indonesian anarchist's analysis on indigenous cultures here and there is this bit of a thread that interests me.

its about how ethnic groupings and cultural traditions slowly become incorporated with the capitalist state the moment people and the communities pursue friendly relations or try to live with the government to the point that their identity is eventually homogenized and reduced to be synonymous with the state with a bunch of sanitized and hollow cultural signifiers of their ancestors' ethnic group.

to tell you the truth, i actually have a little issue with this. a lot of ethnic identities are tied to the monarchies that stood before colonization. theyre already friendly with the state. not every ethnic groups are like dayak where you can argue they're principally anarchist (plus it kind of has the unfortunate implications that there is no way to preserve your culture in a way that matters if you intermix and mingle with people outside of your ethnicity). but also, as a disparate bunch of islands and regions, it was dutch colonialism that forcibly tied everything together to give it a national identity.

but i don't think the concerns were stupid. its true that the indonesian state as it is now, uses indigenous cultural symbols and do token lip service about diversity between ethnic and religious groups while oppressing and stealing lands to be used as projects like food estate or mining sites or palm oil plantations. and its not just a matter of corruption, food estate farms usually plant rice in places where the climates are bad for it and where the people living around it doesn't even consume rice as their primary staple foods. and when the projects fail, the farmers sometimes default on palm oil because there is a national and international market for it, then indigenous communities suffer because their source of livelihood and food are gone. and in the case of mining sites, most of the goods and profits aren't even landing to the pockets to the national bourgeoise lol. yes theyre still rich beyond imagining and oppress people but its the people (and i mean people as a whole, including the poor ones) of the imperial core that gets cheap phones and electronics and building materials.

there's also certain regions where the relationship to the indonesian state are downright colonial. like west papua, horribly militarized and exploited for resources with barely any government spending given for the people and "transmigration" programs sending non-papuans to live in the "unused lands" there (fyi transmigration programs isnt a new thing).

interestingly, i also read in another book about the history of communist movements here that notes that we were actually developing a shared national identity organically during 1945-1955, as we were fresh off independence and were spearheading non-block movements and there was widespread literacy programs and multiple party-affiliated recreation clubs. there was an anecdote that a lot of people were given "revolutionary" sounding names, and when people do small talk, they asked of your party affiliation instead of whats your ethnic group. it wasnt until suharto rose to power that he began the campaign of rewriting a revisionist history where the anti colonial movement was mostly a win from military defense with barely any political or ideological battles occuring, and somewhat reviving the concept of ethnic groups being important to the national identity of indonesians (see the troubled development of taman mini indonesia), even though said concept is horrifically outdated since it was mostly politically relevant before dutch colonialism. and of course we have to mention that suharto's time as president is noted even in civics class textbooks as "java-centric", which probably explains why some javanese people are Weird™ about other ethnic groups, if you know what i mean?

but eh, whatever, im just yapping. im tired man i have to like, write this article to my org about the election and it has to be done soon and i had to explain for the 90th time to people who is not even a good prospect for the org about how uu perampasan aset is just a stupid distraction to make ppl believe prabowo is handling corruption but those damn pesky legislative government bodies are just too damn corrupt (implying that the president should have more power here with no checks and balances)

[reddevilmcnt]

muse: dante [ crime lord ] open to: m only pls! plot: literally just want a sugar daddy/baby plot! maybe your muse has spent his life conning rich and powerful men like dante, slipping in as the perfect sugar baby, only to disappear later with fortunes. but dante manages to see through the lies, playing the game better than he does. and then, instead of getting angry when he catches your muse trying to steal from him, dante makes an offer: stay, be his, and he'll give him more than he ever dreamed.

"You've built your world on lies, yet none of them will ever work on me." He should've been furious, should've walked away. ...But something about this was different, like a thread of fate pulling him toward a connection too deep, too perilous to resist. Admittedly, Dante didn't know how to stop wanting more of it; he was prepared to fight, to bleed, to do whatever it took to keep holding on with both hands before everything between them could disappear.

[marydontweep]

Mystery of Love

word count: 1,754

tw: implied infidelity

pairing: black male!oc x white male!oc

December, 1976

New York's weather seldom offers mercy.

The harsh, icy winter wind whips at the areas of exposed flesh on Emmett's body. His nose is beginning to take on a red hue, and a stinging numbness takes over his ears. He curses himself for being so ill prepared for the cold temperature. Nevertheless, Emmett stands his ground against the cruel climate. He won't give Mother Nature the satisfaction of stealing this long awaited moment away from him.

For months, loneliness had pierced his heavy heart. Phone calls, letters, and late night fantasies weren't enough to satiate Emmett's growing need. He just had to lay his eyes upon the object of his affection. Emmett wanted─no, needed to lose himself in his lover's rich brown irises. He longed for the all too familiar scent of baby oil and Vaseline that he was now accustomed to. He craved the feeling of soft yet aggressive lips moving in synchronicity with his own. Oh, how Emmett wants to thread his fingers through those silky ebony curls as the words I love you fell carelessly from his tongue.

But he must play it safe.

Their relationship, or whatever you'd call it, is a blooming rose. Though the physical aspect had been explored, the emotional aspect is fresh territory. Emmett would feel dreadfully silly making a declaration of his undying love just to be met with rejection. A fleeting moment alone with his lover in the shadows of uncertainty is better than nothing at all.

"I ain't been here since I was a little boy." Alexandre speaks, slicing through the silence with swift abruptness.

Emmett, languidly swinging himself back and forth on the swing set, looks at the younger man. The silvery light of the moon beams brilliantly upon Alexandre's honey glazed skin, casting a divine glow while his dark colored eyes twinkle beneath its luminance. Instead of pulling it into a ponytail, Alexandre lets his voluminous sea of black waves flow freely down his back. Since day one Emmett had found Alexandre's outward appearance very appealing, but tonight the young man is a sculptor's reverie.

Shifting awkwardly, Alexandre continues to talk. "Me and my brothers used to play here every day after school. Sometimes we'd lose track of time, and our momma would come looking for us. Man, we sure were a wild bunch!" He states gleefully, chuckling as he recalls the memory.

Alexandre's sudden urge to share tidbits of his childhood delights and surprises Emmett. Aside from his Afro-French parentage and New York upbringing, Emmett knows next to nothing about Alexandre's life, if he’s being frank. He is an enigma. A mystery waiting to be solved. To be honest, Alexandre's private nature reminds Emmett of himself. He too prefers to keep most parts of his life concealed. It was this commonality that piqued his interest in Alexandre.

Alas, Emmett can't resist the surge of curiosity brewing within him. He wants to peer into the very depths of Alexandre's mind, uncovering every moment of his life.

"How many brothers do you have?" Emmett blurts out. Immediately, trepidation settles into his bones. He really didn't mean to ask that question, but like vomit the words had come rushing out of his mouth.

"Well, you met Charlie already," Alexandre begins, absentmindedly tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "And I got another brother. Plus, a sister. So, that's two brothers and one sister."

What are their names? Are they younger or older?

"What about you?" Alexandre questions. "Do you have any siblings?"

Emmett nods. "I have a younger sister."

A toothy smile forms on Alexandre's face. His teeth are pearly white and unbelievably straight. "That's one more thing we have in common."

"Yeah," Emmett fights back his own smile. "I─I guess it is."

Silence dawns upon them again. It isn't an uncomfortable silence either. The silence is quite peaceful. During the moment of tranquility, Emmett sneaks glances in Alexandre's direction. With his chin resting in his palm and his eyebrows furrowed, the young man appears to be deep in thought. Emmett wonders what is going on inside that pretty little head of his. The need to gain insight into the innerworkings of Alexandre's brain is almost overwhelming. Emmett, however, swallows the questions that threaten to spill from his lips.

In due time...

Without warning, Alexandre stands up from the swing. He walks towards Emmett, stopping to stand in front of him. Two long, slender fingers are propped under Emmett's chin, gently guiding his head upwards. Emmett shivers at the sensation of cold fingers against his skin. Alexandre's eyes bore into Emmett's with the intensity of a wildlife, burning through to his very core. Emmett's heart pounds savagely against his ribcage, and his hands become damp with perspiration. He can feel the butterflies violently fluttering around in his stomach. The power Alexandre holds over him─over his emotions is immense.

Emmett opens his mouth to say something─anything, but he struggles to formulate a coherent sentence. So, he utters not a single word. Emmett remains quiet as a mouse while Alexandre's fingers trace the line of his jaw. His touch is gentle. Careful. As if he is outlining the edges of a precious, invaluable drawing. Emmett's heart swells at the mere idea of being compared to a work of art.

Alexandre's other hand takes a hold of Emmett's hand, squeezing lightly. The younger man's hand is ice cold, but Emmett doesn't mind. He savors the pure intimacy of Alexandre's touch.

"Come on," Alexandre beckons, pulling Emmett off the swing. "I wanna show you something."

Emmett follows Alexandre to his car, getting into the passenger's side as Alexandre gets behind the wheel. The drive is relatively short─approximately four minutes, if Emmett had to guess. Therefore, Emmett doesn't have much of a chance to see most of the surrounding neighborhood through the window. He makes a mental note to ask Alexandre for a tour of Harlem the next time he is in New York.

Alexandre parks the car in a lot near a rundown apartment building. Emmett throws him a confused glance.

"Um, what am I supposed to be looking at, darling?" He asks, his tone light-hearted yet he wonders why the fuck they are there.

In response to Emmett's confusion, Alexandre laughs. He laughs like Emmett had just told the funniest joke in the world.

"The thing I wanna show you is inside the building, baby." Alexandre explains after regaining his composure.

An inaudible 'oh' comes from Emmett.

Great. Now he probably thinks I'm a ninny!

They exit the vehicle with Alexandre leading the way. Upon closer inspection, the building doesn't look as tattered and ugly. It still isn't pleasing to the eye, but it certainly looks better. The inside of the building isn't too bad either. Though Emmett is upset to discover that the lift (or, as Alexandre had referred to it, the elevator) isn't in service. Walking up three flights of stairs is not something that Emmet enjoyed. Nevertheless, he braves through it.

"Here it is! Apartment 306." Alexandre exclaims. He takes out a key from his coat pocket, hurriedly unlocking the wooden door. When Alexandre enters the apartment, Emmett is close behind him.

Alexandre turns on the lights, revealing a seemingly untouched living room. Plastic covers the furniture, the glass coffee table practically sparkles in the light, and not even a hair follicle resides on the cream colored carpet. In other words, there are no signs of anyone having lived here.

Placing his coat on the coat rack, Alexandre is brimming with excitement. "This is the apartment I grew up in," he moves to stand behind Emmett, his tall, skinny build towering over the older man. "I got it fixed up two weeks ago. Now, I don't really be here all that much, but I didn't want somebody else renting my childhood home."

"It's a lovely place," is all that Emmett can manage to say. Truthfully speaking, he is struggling to contain his exhilaration. Emmett feels like Alexandre is beginning to shed his walls, leaving his heart vulnerable to Emmett's deep affection.

“Thanks,” Alexandre replies, striding over to a tall, black shelf filled with vinyl records.

Alexandre begins rummaging through the ample collection of records. He is indecisive, taking out a record then putting it back not a minute later. Finally, something catches his eye─or at least Emmett hopes so. Alexandre turns towards Emmett with the record in hand. It's The Beatles' “And I Love Her” 1964 single.

Emmett can't bite back the grin that spreads across his face. "But I thought you hated The Beatles."

Alexandre sucks his teeth. "Hate is a strong word, Emmett," he says as he places the record on the record player. "They're talented musicians, but I just don't think they all that." Alexandre puts the needle on the record.

Emmett shrugs. "To each his own."

"I saw the single in the record store yesterday," Alexandre begins, talking in a hushed tone while Paul McCartney's dulcet, euphonious voice drifts throughout the room. He is now standing face to face with Emmett. "And I remembered how you loved The Beatles, so I brought it. It turned out to be a nice little tune, if I'm being for real." He lets out a short, awkward chuckle. There's an underlying timidity in Alexandre's entire demeanor. He seems uncomfortable as the words leave his mouth.

"Oh, well, that's very sweet of you, Alex." Emmett says, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks.

The younger man doesn't respond, but the glint in his eyes speaks volumes.

A love like ours could never die...

Alexandre steps closer, bridging the gap between them. He holds out his hand for Emmett to take. Emmett takes it without hesitation, allowing himself to be engulfed in a gentle embrace. He rests his head on Alexandre's chest. The thumping of his heart is strong─comforting even.

Dark is the sky...

As they slowly move to the melody, Emmett feels a shift in them both. The doubt that tore away at him from the very beginning is dissipating. Emmett can see, clear as day, the beautiful and vibrant scarlet petals of that rose blossoming beneath the radiant glow of their union.

I know this love of mine will never die...

Emmett has never felt this way before. Sure, he cares for his fiancée Claire, but the emotions Alexandre awakens within him are completely different. It feels right. He knows it's right. Anything this wonderful could never be wrong.

And I love her.

Love could never be wrong.

[edogawa-division]

Kaoru's Thoughts on Ōta Division

Chinami Chinen

“Well, I’ll be damned never thought I would meet a real-life Pythia. In Greek mythology, oracles were considered mouthpieces to the god Apollo who gave them visions of what was to come. The most important oracle was known as Pythia whose seat was the Temple of Apollo located in Delphi. She was considered extremely powerful socially as kings from all over ancient Greece would come to her for their fortunes to be told. Particularly their fortunes for war. This might explain why the Head Bitch is so determined to get Chinami to join her. Thankfully Miss Oracle had declined her every time. I don't want to even think about what Tohoten would do if she could know the future. Personally, I think knowing the fate of the people around you is a more curse than a blessing. I can't imagine how it is to watch the Moirai spin their threads of fate”  

Kira Chinen

You know normally I'm not the biggest fan of cops but Kira isn't so bad. She comes to me sometimes whenever she needs help with a case. Kira doesn't like it when I straight up tell her shit so generally I give her vague details and let her go from there. Normally I charge people for my services but Kira said any coffee I buy in Ōta is on her.” Kaoru laughs. “I'm sure she's regretting that now. If you think $400 is a lot oh you haven't seen anything yet.”  

Taria Chinen

“Miss In Action! My favorite thief! Oh, she's a riot! Always a fun time with her like that time we stole from that Chōten brat in Aoyama.” Kaoru laughed. “I'm usually her ‘Guy in the Chair’ for her heists gilding her through the building and hacking through harder security systems for her. Heck, she even gives me a chunk of the heist money. She doesn't have to I’m down for stealing from any rich bastard.”  Kaoru cocks her head. “Although Taria keeps telling me that I'm pretty. Huh. I wonder why? It's great pick me up tho.” 

Birds of Prey

“Okay this team is kinda sick I won't lie. So that means that they won't be easy to beat, especially with Miss Pythia over there and her ability to predict our moves. Although If I'm able to steal her ability before she can use it. I’ll be a real-life Oracle of Delphi and well, even birds like them can be trapped in a spider’s web.”  

[frazzledsoul]

Unlike a lot of people here (because I'm ancient) I watched Gilmore Girls when it was airing on TV and rage quit twice, only to come crawling back eventually.

The first time was the S3 baby shower episode, at which point I just could not put up with Lorelai and her petty, childish behavior because Christopher didn't choose her over his pregnant girlfriend and was upset he was actually supportive of her. Well, big whoop, Lorelai that's probably why you shouldn't sleep with other people's boyfriends. I'm sure the example that you're modeling for your daughter here (mostly that it's okay to get entangled with men who are already attached because they were yours first) isn't going to be something she takes to heart a year and a half from now or anything.

Anyway, moving on. I rage quit the second time in episode 5 of season 6, "We've Got Magic To Do." This is the episode where Rory organizes a USO/big band themed party for the DAR, Richard is horribly disappointed that she has learned a new skill, and in the B plot Luke is upset when Lorelai encourages him to go camping.

It's not the worst episode of the season by a long, long shot. But I was bored by Luke and Lorelai's stuff, I have never really liked the upper class plot threads of the show so I was even more bored by Rory, and there were rumors about Christopher coming back and Luke's new secret daughter. I could tell it wasn't going to end well.

What got me to quit was Richard and Emily confronting the Huntzbergers, a plotline that made absolutely no sense

Emily and Richard were excited about Rory dating Logan not only because he is basically their ideal future grandson-in-law or because he possessed connections that might prevent Rory from becoming a penniless failed journalist like most of the people in her job field (funny how that turned out) but because they wanted to move up in their social circle.

However, Rory steals a boat, drops out of school, and seeks the refuge of her grandparents because Lorelai says she can't come home. She intends to party and slack off with Logan, but her grandparents insist that she work at the job they give her at the DAR and finish her community service hours if they're going to support her. (I will note that no one forces Rory to do this in AYITL and that's likely why she keeps spiraling: she can live off of the generosity of others and doesn't have to work, so she doesn't). You would think that Richard and Emily would have figured out that maybe Logan isn't the great influence on Rory that they hoped he would be, but alas....no.

The party is a huge success and you would think that Richard and Emily would be thrilled that Rory has pulled off this accomplishment, but no. Emily goes and rips into Shira, tells her that she's basically white trash and a scheming gold digger, and that she will never stand in the way of Rory and Logan's epic love story. Richard confronts Mitchum in the bathroom and accused him of crushing Rory's spirit and forcing her to seek an alternate career path that she is good at. The episode ends with him devastated that Rory is an adept party planner.

It still is ridiculous to me that two people who pride themselves on behaving according to social norms and maintaining the respect of those in their social circle would behave this way. It's deeply moronic and out of character. Why would they risk everything they've worked so hard for and jeopardize their social standing and Rory's to get back at two people they WANTED on their side? Pissing off Mitchum and Shira doesn't help Rory, it won't help her career if she does go back to school, and it's certainly not going to improve Logan and Rory's relationship. It's just putting words in their mouths that the writers want to express regarding their moral worth even though they've also spent the last season and a half focusing on how glamorous the rich kids sandbox can be. A month later, Jess comes back, encourages Rory to return to her life goals, and Rory breaks up with Logan and ends this plot thread. Hallelujah. No thanks to Richard and Emily, though, who probably could have made things worse for her in the long run career wise but didn't.

The whole thing was just dumb and dishonest and I hated it and still do. Plus, ASP was going to screw up Luke and Lorelai anyway, so why stick around for that? So I rage quit until the second half of the season 6 finale at which point I didn't watch again for another decade.

[islifearecipe]

Chifa Restaurant Review: Peruvian-Chinese on Sentosa

Chifa Restaurant Review: Amazing Peruvian-Chinese Food RWS Restaurants

CHIFA RESTAURANT REVIEW, a brilliant choice of the RWS Restaurants: We happened to be visiting the Harry Potter Experience at Resorts World Singapore, and the SEA Aquarium after that. So where to eat…? We checked the RWS Restaurants list, decided not Spanish, Steakhouse, Korean, Din Tai Fun was shut, along with Hard Rock Cafe, and I then spotted the Chifa Restaurant near me, like 10 steps away with its bright facade.

There’s fusion food, and then there’s Chifa at Resorts World Sentosa. This is a first for me, with Chinese and Peruvian flavours getting together. Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect walking in. Would there be bao? Dumplings? Ceviche? Lllama? A dumpling filled with ceviche? Spoiler: yes, yes, and thankfully no, no. But what I did find was a menu that made me rethink everything I thought I knew about fried rice, bao, and cocktails with names I couldn’t pronounce but happily drank anyway.

From the stunningly colourful décor to the friendly staff, Chifa! doesn’t take itself too seriously — and that’s exactly why it works. This isn’t a place for fussy fine dining or stiff tablecloths. It’s a place where you tuck into wok-fried rice with crispy quinoa, wash it down with a pisco cocktail, and wonder why every meal can’t be this fun. It really was vibrant, the colours and the “tapestries” almost give it a Mexican vibe: clearly from the Peruvian part of the relationship.

Read on folks, for Chifa Restaurant photos, the Chifa Restaurant Menu and of course what we ate today explained in more depth in this Chifa Restaurant Review.

If you’ve ever pondered what happens when Chinese and Peruvian cuisines have a delightful foodie rendezvous, Chifa at Resorts World Sentosa is your go to, and I highly recommend it now having been and thoroughly enjoyed the food there. It really is it’s own style, but with little “memories” contained within. Such a great combo, folks.

The colours are works of art work that literally pop and make it such a vibrant eatery easily bringing together these strange bedfellows’s bold flavours of Peru with the comforting tastes of Chinese fare.

Stepping into Chifa is like entering a festival in the Philippines. The interior is adorned with colourful Peruvian textiles, Chinese lanterns, and eclectic décor that sets the stage for the fusion feast ahead. What I personally loved was the representation of a weaving loom, with the coloured threads running the length of the restaurant: I might be stealing some of these eye candy ideas for my place, The Kapre Restaurant and Bar, in the Philippines. It’s a visual treat that prepares you for the foodie adventure to come.

Chifa Restaurant Menu: what did we eat today...?

CHIFA!’s menu is a most wonderful celebration of Peruvian-Chinese fusion, masterfully curated by Chef Ruben Rodrigo Serrano Cabrera. Trained under renowned Peruvian chefs Virgilio Martínez and Karime Moreno, Chef Cabrera brings a wealth of experience and a deep appreciation for both cultures to the table. His creations pay a literal homage to the rich tapestry (see what I did there) of flavours that defines the Chifa Sentosa Menu, blending traditional Peruvian ingredients with classic Chinese techniques to craft dishes that are both innovative and so very damned comforting.

Some of Chef’s “standout” dishes are: The Wok Fried Seafood XO Aeropuerto, a delightful medley of scallops, prawns, and calamari sautéed with vegetables, egg omelette, and fragrant grains of jasmine rice and quinoa, all brought together with a robust XO sauce. This dish really shows off the harmonious marriage of Peruvian and Chinese culinary elements, delivering incredible textures and flavours in every bite. Another must-try is the Charcoal Wagyu Chifero, featuring grilled striploin drizzled with a smoky “Anticucho” sauce, offering a tender and flavour explosion experience that showcases the depth of Chifa Menu.

Personally, I also call out one that was totally unique for me that we tried this day. Plus I love the name. This choice happened the same way I bet on the Grand National, by name only. And, with a name like: Typhoon Shelter Iberico Pork Chop, how can you resist taking a bet on this? This was sublime, and again flavours pops going off everywhere, and textures to die for, and, of course, some serious plating eye-candy. WOOF!!!

Photo courtesy of Chifa Website

Vegetarians, you know who you are…, aren’t left out either. The La Hoja Bao, a vegetarian bao filled with a medley of vegetables and spices, offers a satisfying dish that’s colourful, hearty and flavourful.

No meal at Chifa! is complete without exploring their cocktail menu. The Chicano De Chifa, a modern take on the classic Pisco Sour, combines Pisco Macchu, passion fruit, agave nectar, and ginger ale, resulting in a refreshing drink that pairs perfectly with the bold flavours of the dishes at the resto.

Dessert enthusiasts will appreciate the Purple “Chicha Bebe” Man Tao. This sweet treat features ice cream encased in a purple bao, offering a delightful end to the meal: if you can force it down of course, after all the other delicious dishes you’ve gorged on.

Complementary Spicy Cashew Nuts @ Chifa Restaurant

Wow they popped these down on the table for us as a snack before the food arrived. I popped on in: IMMEDIATELY ADDICTED. beer food on steroids, and some. Super-cruchy, nutty, spicey, savoury. Just so very very good – to be honest they should charge for these, or have them available to buy and take home. Well done Chifa, that’s a WOOF start to lunch today…

Yellowfin Tuna Tamarind Ceviche: Chifa Menu

Yellowfin Tuna Tamarind Ceviche: Sweet and Sour “Tamarind Leche de Tigre”, Avocado, Kyuri and Daikon @ $32. This was served. I turned around to take a photo of the interior of the restaurant. I turned back and the Tuna Ceviche had disappeared from the plate completely. She loved it totally. Great job Chef and Chifa crew, massive accolade from a Filipino fish offishianado…

Wagyu Torched Tiradito: Chifa Sentosa Menu

Wagyu Torched Tiradito: Torched Wagyu, “Sillao Leche de Tigre”, Charcoal Oil, Crispy Quinoa, Roasted Corn with Wasabi Emulsion @ $42. Oh my goodness, I would have paid $142 for this dish. This is a must-try. It is to die for deliciousness on a plate. Perfectly Pink2Pink Wagyu, charred on the edge, so smoky, with nuttiness from the corn and then kapow from the Wasabi emulsion. Truly one of the best tasting things I have put in my mouth – oooer missus!!! You have to get this in your life at least once: WOOF, AKA, MOO!!!

Roasted Pork CHIFA: Chifa Menu

Roasted Pork CHIFA: Chinese Roasted Pork, “CHIFA! Chili”, “Tamal de Arroz” Dumpling and Lettuce Taco @ $24. Yeah this was OK, a little tough on the meat but the skin crackle was divine, and really good with dippy sauces. The rice was also incredible, spicy, sticky steamed rice, a perfect accompaniment.

Typhoon Shelter Iberico Pork Chop: Chifa Restaurant Menu

Typhoon Shelter Iberico Pork Chop: Crispy Garlic, Tausi and Chopped Chili, Homemade “Chicha de Jora”, Sweet Chili Sauce, and that succulent Iberico Pork @ $40. I loved this. Reminded me of being a kid when my grandparents used to make a sawdust tombola. In you’d reach with your hand to pick out a mystery gift. The same happeneded here, because under that mound of super-savoury and crunchy “crumble” was hidden some seriously scrumptuous Iberico Pork Ribs – so delicious, you have to give this one a go: OINK!!!

Kong Bak Bao Criollo: Chifa Sentosa Menu

Kong Bak Bao Criollo: Roast Pork Chinese Style with “Chalaca” Salsa, Textures of Sweet Potatoes @ $18 for 2 pieces. Wow these were off-the-charts good. Best Bao ever. We ended up fighting for the last bites of these most delicious bundles of joy bao. It’s hard to describe the experience, as again you have all the textures fighting against each other in a good way, the flavour pops just smarking your senses all over the place, and such super soft pork, my goodness.

Chifa Restaurant Review: Chifa Restaurant photos

Chifa Sentosa Service

Service at CHIFA! is attentive and friendly, with staff eager to guide you through the menu and share their recommendations. Their enthusiasm adds to the overall dining experience, making you feel welcomed and well-cared-for throughout your meal. I kind of get their enthusiasm, as their workspace is just so uber-cool: how could you not be happy in here.

Chifa Menu Sentosa: Chifa Menu Restaurant Near Me...

Voice of the Restaurant: Chifa Restaurant Review

“Welcome to Singapore’s first CHIFA restaurant! Explore the vibrancy of “CHIFA” cuisine specially curated where traditional Peruvian gourmet elements meet Chinese epicurean influences. Drawing inspiration from cultural expression of Chinese Cantonese and traditional Peruvian elements, step foot into the restaurant and be greeted by the distinctive Chinese architectural features and colourful décor that showcases backdrops of the iconic Peru rainbow mountain and vibrant artisanal textiles.

Origin of CHIFA Cuisine: The name, CHIFA, was given by the Peruvians. During lunch time they listened to Chinese people use the words Chi = Eat and Fan = Rice. The first generation of Chinese immigrants arrived in Peru around 1850 and created CHIFA food, a mix of Cantonese flavours fused with Peruvian ingredients. The cuisine then gain popularity and became recognized that many Chinese restaurants started to open in Peru.”

Meet the Chef of Chifa Restaurant: Chef Ruben Rodrigo Serrano Cabrera

Chef Rodrigo blends nostalgic childhood memories with innovative flavours at Chifa, inspired by his Peruvian culture and background.

Trained under renowned Peruvian chefs Virgilio Martínez and Karime Moreno, and mentored by Hernán Castañeda, his menu is dedicated to crafting inventive dishes that introduce guests to the vibrant essence of Peruvian Chinese cuisine.

Chifa Restaurant Review: Final Thoughts

In conclusion, CHIFA! offers a dining experience that’s both unique and comforting. The fusion of Chinese and Peruvian cuisines results in dishes that are familiar yet exciting, making it a must-visit spot for foodies looking to try something new: and it really will be something new for you, if you have not tried this fusion before.

CHIFA! is the kind of place that keeps you guessing — in the best way possible. One minute you’re slurping down a Peruvian-style soup that feels straight from your grandmother’s kitchen, the next you’re biting into a bao with a cheeky Chinese wink. It’s a mash-up that somehow works without feeling forced, like that unlikely couple at a wedding who start randomly snogging. With every dish, you get the sense the chefs are having fun in the kitchen — and frankly, so were we at the table today – the decor and the food smashed it. It will be our go to choice of Resorts World Restaurants.

And let’s be honest, dining at Resorts World Sentosa always feels a bit like you’re on holiday, even if you only travelled from Tiong Bahru. CHIFA! takes that relaxed vibe and throws in some unique and punchy food, with enough bold flavours to keep your awake long after dessert. If you’re after a meal that’s just a little unexpected, CHIFA! will leave you full — and secretly plotting your next visit before the plates are cleared. It’s a must-try, folks, we seriously enjoyed it: I might go back for another cocktail just to get those cashews, WOOF!!!

[halimpark7]

I met this guy outside of the grocery store and he's attractive, a struggling model/actor, trying to get famous.

I think because he trys to be chiverous I try to be open-hearted. I know what it is to struggle and

I could never imagine sleeping on the corner.

I struggle to sleep when it's too cold inside my van. So I don't complain, you have it worse.

🤷🏻‍♀️

It's so hard for me to be nice to the world when I don't have basic needs so his kindness was exemplary. Id bitch about every cunt who stole from me. You should see my threads account (my threats** account)

The last time I saw him he was on drugs, I assume heavier than I'm use to but also I experiment with psychedelics for my CPTSD. Not to be "oh poor me" but my parents bullied me a lot and tried to get me to kill myself physical, sexual, mental abuse. So I assume, if I was living outside, begging, I would probably do hard drugs too. I have never lived that life, I'm not going to judge it.

He asked me for some cigarettes and I said no, but he could have my coffee or water or yogurt (whatever I had in my bag) which he declined and so I was on my way.

Today, I was on cloud 9 with amazing news, he stopped me and offered to buy him a warm meal. Asked him what he wanted, treated him like a human being. With autonomy and decency bc I think that's how you get out of homelessness. Getting your quota of love.

He asked to come into the store with me and in the spirit of giving. Sure, why not?

He didn't know what to buy so I tried to make small talk and let him follow me while I bought groceries. I had $75 thanks to Anthony and Peter. Both hardworking, generous guys I met through tiktok.

I didn't realize he was being so skiddish about getting food, not because he was embarrassed of his situation but because he was trying to buy cigarettes behind my back with the manager, placed hidden behind the mechanical registar as I already checked out with the cashier on the other side.

I felt awful.... As I saw it ring up.

I'm not racist, I see you as myself, a struggling artist, but I don't understand how I couldn't see how he was trying to take advantage of me.

Hey get anything you want but let it be warm. But also I live in a van, I'm not established. I'm trying my best.

You're a handsome black man, can't you see I'm not the person to steal from, $10 for something not food is really a lot for me right now. It was my last $10.

Do you come from a rich family who doesn't like your lifestyle? And that's why you're in Hollywood struggling?

I come from a poor family who abused me. And I have no home to speak of.

Not a comparison but I'm struggling bc I don't have anybody and everyone's used me and then I yelled at them.

Burned the shit out of those bridges.

Jesus says turn the other cheek, give to the travelers and the hungry. So today I was emotionally swindled.

But also I guess I deserved it bc Holly's struggling w me and I hate on her all the time, too. Tried to kill her when she took my last $10, so I guess I'm growing up. Lol.

I think he should go home.

Sometimes when I feel the sense of people telling me to "go home" I wish I could. I wish I knew what home felt like. I wish I had parents that loved me and accepted me. Or at least didn't grab my body and grope me when I was trying to relax (My mother and my father). The last time was 2022. (She's high functioning cognitively impared, it's awkward but she thinks I'm sexy and grabs me)

Also I don't know the moral of this story. Don't hate on your open hearted ex? Other people on drugs are not you on drugs? Don't give beautiful people the benefit of doubt? Trust no one (just kidding)

Idk. What do you think?

Thank you Travis and lucky Sam. So I could buy dinner. Or breakfast tomorrow.

Cashap-halimpark7 venmo HaLim-Park PayPal hapark7 hahah not to buy cigarettes.

Ps Ellen I love how shocked you are at all the stories of my life. It's worth entertaining you.

[daveg65]

348 - Spatial Galleries & Apple’s Shiny New Gear

The latest In Touch With iOS with Dave he is joined by guest Chuck Joiner, Marty Jencius, Jeff Gamet, and Ben Roethig. Dave and the crew kick off this episode with a lively discussion on Apple’s latest updates of iPad and Mac, discussing Vision Pro and Vision OS 2.4 beta 2, which introduces Apple Intelligence, writing tools, and Genmoji. They compare ChatGPT to Apple Intelligence and explore the new Spatial Gallery app. Marty shares his experience with the iPhone 16E, and the team dives into iOS.

The show notes are at InTouchwithiOS.com

 Direct Link to Audio 

Links to our Show

Give us a review on Apple Podcasts! CLICK HERE we would really appreciate it!

Another way to support the show is to become a Patreon member patreon.com/intouchwithios

Website: In Touch With iOS

Click this link Buy me a Coffee to support the show we would really appreciate it. intouchwithios.com/coffee 

YouTube Channel

In Touch with iOS Magazine on Flipboard

Facebook Page

BlueSky

Mastodon

X

Instagram

Threads

Spoutible

Summary Topics and Links

In this episode it features an engaging team, including returning guest Chuck Joyner, the insightful Ben Rathig, and the always entertaining Marty Jensen. Together, they dive deep into the whirlwind of Apple announcements from the past week, while bringing their own unique perspectives to the conversation.

The episode kicks off with an enthusiastic greeting, where Dave expresses his excitement for the crew's participation this week, especially welcoming Chuck back and expressing joy over Ben’s return after a busy work stint. Marty humorously sets the tone with a relatable anecdote about tedious meetings, before the group transitions to discussing Apple's significant announcements and updates, particularly focusing on Vision Pro and its latest features.

A highlight this week is the second beta release of Vision OS 2.4, which introduces Apple Intelligence, writing tools, Genmoji, and more. Dave and the crew delve into firsthand experiences using these emerging features. The conversation flows through various aspects—comparing ChatGPT to Apple Intelligence, and weighing the pros and cons of both regarding user experience. The group collectively mentions the excitement surrounding the new dedicated Spatial Gallery app while also highlighting the need for further improvements.

As they navigate through the nitty-gritty of Apple's updates, the discussion effortlessly transitions to iPhone 16E, where Marty shares his delightful experience with this new, more affordable model. He praises its solid performance, camera capabilities, and ergonomics. The group expresses collective thoughts on how the 16E, while aimed at budget-conscious consumers, meets many users' everyday needs, ultimately making it a worthy contender in the smartphone market.

In the midst of this richness, the crew engages in thoughtful dialogues about iOS 18.4 beta two updates. Interesting features such as priority notifications and enhancements to the shortcuts app steal the show. Yet, they also critique the absence of Apple Intelligence in lower-end models, prompting a study of how Apple positions its products within the market.

Staying true to the audience's needs, the crew explores the recent Mac announcements, including a new iPad Air with an M3 chip, victorious arrivals of new MacBook Air models in delightful colors, and the powerhouse Mac Studio featuring the M4 Max. They debate the implications of these upgrades, with Marty humorously revealing his impulse decision to acquire the Mac Studio, much to the amusement of his friends. Through collaborative discussion, the group reflects on Apple's evolving strategies, assessing where the company stands regarding cutting-edge technology and consumer needs.

Last but not least, the episode dives into news bites that capture attention, such as Tapbots' forthcoming release of the Phoenix app for Blue Sky and police in Australia utilizing CarPlay for vehicle recognition. These stories not only provide a fun wrap-up to the episode but also highlight tech's growing intersection with everyday life and law enforcement practices.

In Touch With Vision Pro this week. 

Apple Seeds Second Betas of visionOS 2.4, tvOS 18.4, and watchOS 11.4

Hands on with Apple Intelligence on Apple Vision Pro

Vision Pro Spatial Gallery Launches in visionOS 2.4 Beta 2

Vision Pro App for iPhone Available in iOS 18.4 Beta 2

Marty has the new iPhone 16e. He gives his review of this new iPhone.iFixit Takes Apart iPhone 16e for Closer Look at C1 Modem 

Beta this week. 

Everything New in iOS 18.4 Beta 2

Apple Seeds Second Public Betas of iOS 18.4, iPadOS 18.4, and macOS Sequoia 15.4

iOS 18.4 Brings RCS Support to Google Fi, Mint Mobile and Other T-Mobile MVNOs

iOS 18.4 Adds Apple Intelligence Features to Control Center 

iOS 18.4 upgrades the App Store with these two new features

New iPads were released this week. 

Apple Announces New iPad Air With M3 Chip, Updated Magic Keyboard

Apple Announces Redesigned Magic Keyboard for iPad Air

M2 iPad Air vs. M3 iPad Air Buyer's Guide 

Apple Unveils 11th-Gen iPad With A16 Chip and More Storage

Here Are 8 Things to Know About Apple's New iPad With the A16 Chip

New Entry-Level iPad With A16 Chip Has More RAM Than iPad 10

Apple's 64GB Era is Over

In Touch With Mac this week

Apple Seeds Second Beta of macOS Sequoia 15.4 With Mail Categorization

Apple Announces New MacBook Air With M4 and 'Sky Blue' Color Option

M2 vs. M3 vs. M4 MacBook Air Buyer's Guide: 25+ Differences Compared

Apple Announces New Mac Studio With M4 Max and M3 Ultra Chips, Thunderbolt 5, and More

A Maxed Out M3 Ultra Mac Studio Will Cost You $14,099

New MacBook Air and Mac Studio Offer Easy Setup With a Nearby iPhone 

M3 vs. M4 Chip Buyer's Guide: How Much Better Really Is M4

Apple Discontinues M2 and M3 MacBook Air

The Mac's Space Gray era is officially ove

Everything Apple Announced This Week - MacRumors

News

Tapbots Making 'Phoenix' App for Bluesky

ChatGPT can now directly edit code in Xcode, VS Code, & more on macOS

Police in Australia are using CarPlay in an interesting way

Announcements

Macstock 9 is here for 3 Days on July 11, 12, and 13th, 2025. Super Early bird tickets here save $100. Register | Macstock Conference & Expo Book your room with a Macstock discount here. Location | Macstock Conference & Expo

Our Host

Dave Ginsburg is an IT professional supporting Mac, iOS and Windows users and shares his wealth of knowledge of iPhone, iPad, Apple Watch, Apple TV and related technologies. Visit the YouTube channel https://youtube.com/intouchwithios follow him on Mastadon @daveg65, and the show @intouchwithios

  Our Regular Contributors

Jeff Gamet is a podcaster, technology blogger, artist, and author. Previously, he was The Mac Observer’s managing editor, and Smile’s TextExpander Evangelist. You can find him on Mastadon @jgamet as well as Twitter and Instagram as @jgamet  His YouTube channel https://youtube.com/jgamet

Marty Jencius, Ph.D., is a professor of counselor education at Kent State University, where he researches, writes, and trains about using technology in teaching and mental health practice. His podcasts include Vision Pro Files, The Tech Savvy Professor and Circular Firing Squad Podcast. Find him at jencius@mastodon.social  https://thepodtalk.net 

Ben Roethig Former Associate Editor of GeekBeat.TV and host of the Tech Hangout and Deconstruct with Patrice  Mac user since the mid 90s. Tech support specialist. Twitter @benroethig  Website: https://roethigtech.blogspot.com

About our Guest

Chuck Joiner is the host of MacVoices and hosts video podcasts with influential members of the Apple community. Make sure to visit macvoices.com and subscribe to his podcast. You can follow him on Twitter @chuckjoiner and join his MacVoices Facebook group.

Here is our latest Episode!

[heraldeez]

Mistletoe

Viktor x Reader | 2.4K | SFW

Warnings/Tags: KISSIN’, and some pre-relationship shenanigans

You want to steal a kiss from everyone's favorite assistant professor, and by the gods are you going to get what you want.

A/N: Happy holidays, folks! :] Though the season is busy, I wanted to put out some Viktor smoochin, to get us all through the cold months. Enjoy!

---

Today, mischief is afoot.

Mischief in form of you, hauling a canvas duffle of metal poles and custom gearwork into the front doors of the Academy, winter wind nipping at your heels all the way through the grand arches. You quickly tap the clinging rime of powdery snow from your shoes in the drafty entry hall before heading to the stairs.

Despite your wind bitten cheeks, you have ambitions for the day.

And not ambitions for the custom miniaturized planetarium prototype in your bag, no. You have seasonal ambitions, ambitions for the mistletoe carefully tucked, to not knock off any fragile leaves, into the front pocket of your supply bag.

Today, you’re stealing a kiss.

Long enough have you admired Viktor from afar. Today, you’re making your intentions known, even if you have to use a bit of trickery to do so.

Not too much.

Nobody can really complain about mistletoe, right? It’s festive. Even Viktor, who can’t be pried from his work for love or money.

The heavy doors rasp over the floor as you push your way into the Hextech lab.

It’s a good hour to be here. Viktor’s desk sits in a sunspot, likely the warmest part of the lab right now, and he’s curled over his notes, soaking it all in. Gentle late-morning sun slants lazily through the windows, sending warm threads of light through Viktor’s hair to really bring out all those rich golden highlights. As though his profile is glowing, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, the point of his chin all carry a halo of precious light from the cloudless day, even shut away in here, hard at work. You can practically see sparkles of it resting on the tips of his eyelashes.

Gods, you’re in deep. You could stare at him all day, but Viktor’s ears perk up to the noise of your entry, and he turns to face your way.

Viktor – thankfully alone, from the looks of things – raises a brow as you step in, one finger twirling aimlessly through his hair, the way he does when he’s swamped in work.

And like the methodical turning of clockwork gears, your plans grind into motion.

“I need a favor.”

Viktor’s other brow creeps up to match. “Not even a hello?”

You grin, easily, confidently. “You prefer when I cut to the chase.”

“Perhaps.” He snorts as he sets his pencil down, giving you a rare slice of his undivided attention. “What did you need?”

You jangle the sack of metal rods.

“I need your lab for testing. Mine isn’t big enough for this project.”

Viktor squints at the bag. “Be my guest, though in return…”

You pause – this wasn’t in your script. And, shamefully, your heart thumps a little harder thinking just what he might want of you.

“You’ll have to explain to me what you’re working on,” he says, simply.

Is that all? You clear your throat, nonchalant, shoving aside thoughts of illicit lab activities for a far more appropriate response, “Uh, yeah, sure! Of course.”

You heft the base of the mechanism out of the bag, setting it heavily in the center of the lab, beginning your explanation.

It’s a small scale planetarium, something Viktor probably could have made years earlier in his schooling. But it was a commission, easy cash and renown, so you’d readily signed up. A moving night sky, panels suspended on spokes, covered in a lightweight dome. A foreign noble had specifically requested it as a party feature, for guests to entertain themselves with while they have their fill of bubbly spirits.

“It’s looking a little… incomplete,” Viktor pokes, grinning at where you hold a single spoke instead of twelve or so.

You scowl. “That’s because it is. I’m just – this is the most energy efficient way of testing, okay? Get back to your own work.”

You aren’t actually here to argue about the proper method of creating a prototype.

You have ambitions, damn it.

And you really need him to turn away so you can go about achieving them.

Viktor raises his hands placatingly, though he’s still obviously laughing at you a little from the bemused smile on his face, but obediently twists his seat to face his own work again.

You watch, hawklike, until his shoulders square up, hunched over his work, telltale signs that he’s sucked back into whatever he was working on, before you whip out the sprig of mistletoe.

Deft fingers secure it to the end of the segmented pole, and you hurry to get it attached at the base, lest Viktor find any more teasing commentary within himself and turn around to deliver it.

Unlikely, with how his focus tended to catch while working, but better safe than sorry.

The air seems to still in your lungs as your finger hovers over the ignition switch.

By all your calculations, and perhaps unhealthy obsession, the poles should be the perfect length to span from the center of the room to arc directly over the workstations clustered around the room, Viktor’s desk included.

But if your mental measurements were off, or worse, the motor doesn’t function the way you think –

You just have to get it over with. No progress without a price.

The air wooshes out of you in relief as the motor revs on pleasantly, a quiet chugging hum as the spoke catches in the internal gearwork and shifts, beginning its slow rotation atop the room.

A rotation that passes perfectly, to the inch, about 10 feet above Viktor’s tousled hair, unbeknownst to him.

Victory is sweet. On this day… your ambitions pay off.

You step back to admire your handiwork, pleased that while in motion, it’s difficult to tell what the bundle of silvery green at the end is, all the way up by the ceiling. Even if Viktor were to look up, it wouldn’t be readily obvious what you were up to.

The thought fills you with giddy buoyancy, plucking out your lunch to enjoy while you wait for your plans to come to fruition. You hop up onto Viktor’s desk, all the luck thus far making you bolder, pushing your luck.

He glances at you, lips quirked up, but doesn’t offer any reprimand.

“How long do you intend to let it run?” he asks, scratching away at a complex looking equation on one of the many sheets of parchment littering the desk in front of him. His inkwell is nearing on empty, and his coffee mug already there.

“Oh, probably till I finish my lunch. I have a seminar to get to after this, so not terribly long.”

Viktor nods, and fades back into his work.

You swing your feet absently, watching the slowly spinning herb make its rounds, and take a big bite of your sandwich. A slice of thin cheese tries to chase your mouth as you pull away.

Ah, bliss. Everything was really going just as you’d planned. Good inventions. Good sandwich. Good company.

You cast your eyes over to peek at Viktor, hoping that you’re being subtle. He’s hard at work, like always.

The steady scratching of his pen gives you ample time to admire him. You relax into the warm sunlight draping across your shoulders like a shawl and drink your fill – of the soft cable-knit sweater, loose on his shoulders to ward off the chill of the lab, large buttons undone to leave his dress shirt exposed. The small ink stain on his shirt collar. The way his eyelashes really are sparkling in the light, this close. The deep bags under said eyes.

It wouldn’t kill him, to take a break.

“Do you intend to go home for the holiday?” you ask, lapping a bit of sauce off the side of your thumb where it had seeped out of the delicious crusty bread.

Viktor gives a little hum, to acknowledge that he heard you even as he doesn't raise his gaze, scribbling lines of formulas down. His handwriting gets smaller as he nears the bottom of the parchment. When he runs out of space, he finally replies, "No, not this year. We're close to a breakthrough, I just know it."

He neatly flips the page over.

To your surprise and great pleasure, Viktor pauses instead of resuming his work, pen midair, to glance at you curiously.

"Are you, eh, heading home at the end of the week?"

It gives you pause, the way that borders on asking if you’re available.

“Mmm, I’m still deciding. I could visit family, I suppose, but I am rather partial to the idea of taking an airship out to someplace warmer, a little weekend trip to take in the sights. I suppose I’ll just have to see how… open my schedule remains.”

If you’re being honest with yourself, you're probably going to veg out in your apartment and eat a bunch of junk food and holiday leftovers while trying to beat a record for ‘most time spent without leaving bed’.

But that leaves plenty of time, to hang around here. If Viktor is so inclined.

You slide eyes full of barely-restrained excitement over at him, even though you know they’re probably revealing your hand right now. “Why do you ask?”

His answer is too swift to be convincing.

“No reason.”

You fight not to beam with delight – not wanting to disturb the careful balance of teasing restraint that you and Viktor seem to have picked up – by popping the last of your sandwich into your mouth and drawing yourself to your feet. Balling the parchment paper wrapping in your hands, your feet carry you nonchalantly to pitch it in the bin before stopping at the base of your contraption.

Just a few more moments. Patience.

Twiggy green sails cheerfully through the air, just before his desk, and you subtly flip the switch as though you’d simply drawn a conclusion to your work. The spoke slides to a halt.

Directly above Viktor’s head, the bundle of vivid green and foggy white berries sits like a crown for your incumbent victory.

Your steps are light with satisfaction as you make your way over to his chair once more.

“Thank you, Viktor, for letting me use the space. Though, before I go, there’s just one more thing…”

Viktor turns, setting his arm on the back of his chair to look at you expectantly, but you merely point a flippant finger upward in lieu of words, sly grin on your face.

The way his eyes widen at the shock is endlessly satisfying.

Viktor seems a mix of guarded and flustered, the cutest flush rising to his cheeks. But his eyes hold a gleam that you can't quite parse.

Cautiously, he fixes you with a stern look, brows knit. "And you intend to partake in this, eh, tradition?"

Mysterious gleam or not, you barrel on. "Rules are rules."

"Ah, well in that case."

Like a switch had been flipped, Viktor's expression sets, determined.

He doesn’t even hesitate.

Capable hands seize your jaw, Viktor tugging you down to his level.

His fingers cup your jaw delicately and confidently, bowing you down to meet his lips and – and they're so soft –

And you can barely keep up with the change in atmosphere, his lips moving passionately against yours, a squeak leaving your throat only for him to hum it into his own, your hands seeking purchase in the sudden maelstrom and clutching at the front of his dress shirt for dear life.

Viktor is kissing you like an expert, and you're wondering just who is stealing a kiss from whom here, when he encourages your mouth open and – tongue! tongue! in an innocent mistletoe kiss! – his soft tongue slides delicately, exploratory against your own.

He tastes you, humming his appreciation as you reel to find balance and return his affections, twining himself tighter with you and for Janna's sake, when did your eyes close?

Who is this guy? What did he do with the shut-in, ‘couldn't make polite conversation for the first two months you knew him’ Viktor?

And who taught him to kiss like that?

Scratch that. You didn't want to know.

You just knew you never wanted him to stop.

But all good things must come to an end. Finally, finally, oxygen makes itself known as a necessity, and Viktor draws back, lips chasing purchase to the very last before finally parting with the softest noise of separation.

He looks at your mouth through long, low-drawn lashes, glittering above molten gold, before his eyes flick up to meet yours, your heart pounding tenfold as you consider that he might just go in for another round.

But his hands slip from your face.

"Mm, I suppose that fulfills our duty to tradition, then. Happy holidays."

Viktor turns to his work casually, clearing his throat, back to business as usual – only the slight flush of pink staining the tips of his ears and the creases at the front of his dress shirt saying otherwise.

"Don't you, eh, have that seminar to get to?"

You aren't sure if it's a cruel tease or if he's having mercy on your scrambled egg of a brain.

You grapple around for words. "Huh? I uh – yeah, yes, I do, that's – Well, now, yes."

So much for intellect.

You pack your things in a daze, shutting off the motor, folding spokes, fitting everything back into well worn canvas that smells of your own lab, your own home.

And your brain is stuck on loop.

Soft lips. Strong hands. Nimble tongue.

And cheeky.

He played you like cards. You’re going to be thinking about this for months.

"Ah, (Y/n)?"

Startled as you're heading out the door, you turn to find Viktor looking at you, that mysterious gleam in his eyes sparkling anew.

"If you do happen to find time in your busy holiday, perhaps we could," Viktor's lips quirk up in a self-satisfied little smirk, "do lunch?"

And all at once, it hits you, just what his eyes are holding.

A mischief, all his own.

Viktor continues, the death knell of your pride and the birth of something excitingly new between the two of you.

"After all, I'd love to address how you have obviously been dying to kiss me for months now."

[starrynightmuse]

You Owe Me a Debt: Chap 3

Masterlist / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Author's Note: This is definitely not a parody. You should take everything in this fanfic 100% seriously. This story is true to canon. It really happened. Trust me, I was there.

Story Summary: As the second son of King Visery's second wife, Aemond Targaryen is given only a small allowance. The measly funds were nowhere near enough to pay for the prince's daily necessities, such as his 16-step Olaplex haircare routine. The young prince is secretly forced to live on credit and he must count every last cent he spends. One day, someone steals his money, leaving Aemond penniless and angry. Will he be able to get his money back or will his broke ass be humiliated in front of court for not being able to pay his Klarnax installments for his sapphire?

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Visenya Targaryen (Rhaenyra's Daughter) but ironically.

Rating: PG 13

Chapter 3: Two Dragons in King's Landing

Words: 3.668k

Warnings: Profanity, evil children, finance bro language.

Visenya didn’t think she could stand another minute of her father’s ear-splitting music.

The princess was rudely woken by the sound of Daemon practicing in his studio, the music booming through the walls of the entire castle. Since they lived in medieval times, Dragonstone didn’t have soundproof walls, and the bass was so loud that Visenya felt as if all the molecules in her body were shaking and about to explode like an atomic bomb.

Yo, Lord Fleabottom is my name

Amongst the smallfolk is where I got my fame

I got a dragon that spits out fire, I ride it, I take flight

But it ain’t the only thing that’s getting ridden tonight

If she had to hear another “Yo, Lord Fleabottom is my name” for one more time, Visenya was going to burn the entire island down. She has had to greet all of her mornings this way for weeks now, and she was sick and tired of it. She needed to get away from the castle, stat.

Rubbing her eyes and groaning at the headache that was forming in her head, she groggily got out of bed and staggered toward her closet.

As the daughter of King Viserys’ heiress, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Visenya was a nepo baby. Hence, she had to walk through her walk-in closet for twenty minutes (it was more of a walk-in corridor), passing row after row of lavish dresses, to eventually reach the end, where she kept her recession core clothes.

Recession core was the new rage for the elites in Essos, however, the trend hadn’t caught on in Westeros. The style was all about prioritizing comfort and simplicity over extravagance and ostentation. It imitated the garments worn by the smallfolk, and the clothes looked seemingly indifferentiable to peasant clothes at first glance, but Recession core brands used higher quality fabrics. A simple tunic would cost over 1,000 gold dragons.

The appeal lay in the fact that the clothes made the wearer seem to be indifferent to wealth and privilege, but at the same time own garments that were utterly inaccessible for commoners.

Visenya, however, wasn’t a fan of the minimalism. She preferred the opulence and grandeur of her ball gowns, with their shimmering fabrics and golden threads embroidered with the symbols of her house, their dragons. Who needs minimalism when you can flaunt your riches and look fabulous while doing it?

In Westeros, clothing had political significance, serving as a display of influence and power. But there were places across the Narrow Sea where the smallfolk were getting tired of their nobility. Places where whispers of a new idea called “democracy” could be heard in corners of dimly lit pubs in the dead of night. Feeling threatened, the elites had adopted recession core to give an appearance of humility.

Visenya hadn’t worn recession core since her trip to Essos last year, but an appearance of humility was just what she needed right now to make her escape.

The princess changed into a simple woolen tunic and breeches. She threw her long platinum hair up into a tight bun and covered it with a grey cap, taking care to make sure not one strand of her hair was visible. Slipping on an uninteresting pair of brown leather shoes and swinging a dark cloak over her, she tip-toed out of her chambers.

Visenya crept through Dragonstone's back rooms, through the servant quarters, and eventually reached the tunnel that led the way out of the castle. Once outside, she started the rocky, rap music-free path up the Dragonmount where her dragon rested.

As she climbed the mountain, she came across her brother, Lucerys, sitting cross-legged on top of a boulder, his Macbook on his lap. Visenya halted in her tracks.

“Luke?” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” he asked skeptically, eyeing the simple clothes she wore. Visenya quickly wrapped her cloak tight around her.

“You first,” she said.

“I have a Zoom meeting in fifteen minutes,” Luke replied. “The signal is better here than in the castle.”

Visenya raised her eyebrows. Luke sighed.

“And it’s much quieter,” he confessed.

“What’s your Zoom meeting for?” the princess inquired, making her way to her brother's side to sneak a peek at his screen.

“It’s for a strategic planning session," Luke replied. "I'm meeting with the team to go over our financial projections for the year and make any necessary adjustments to our business plan. We’ll also be discussing potential partnerships with other firms. It’s been a big year and I want to make sure we’re taking advantage of all the opportunities that come our way so we can stay competitive in the market and maximize our revenue.”

“I don’t speak Jeff Bezos language, Luke,” Visenya said, teasing him. “But cool. CEO stuff, eh? Maybe Mother might let you do business full-time and let Rhaena rule Driftmark instead.” Although Luke and Rhaena weren’t betrothed yet, it had always been hinted in their family that the two would become the future Lord and Lady of Driftmark.

Luke chuckled as he cast his eyes down at the ground.

“In a perfect world, perhaps,” he said, sighing. “Gods, do I wish to be free from the burdens of politics.” He looked up at Visenya and paused for a beat, frowning. “You’re sneaking out, aren’t you?

“Please cover for me? I can’t stand his music anymore. They probably use it at Guantanamo Bay. Plus, I’m dying out of the boredom of being stuck in that gloomy castle,” Visenya pleaded.

“A princess stuck in a castle full of servants, with everything she’d ever want or need within arm’s length. What a tragedy,” Luke said with mock pity.

Visenya pouted. “Don’t be a meanie, Lukey.”

“Where are you off to?”

“Hm, how about…the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai or… the Ruins of Valyria or…the Red Dunes of Dorne…” Visenya waved her hands in a grand, dramatic gesture as she said each location as if she were performing a play. “Ooh, I know! Maybe I’ll go to France! Jacaerys says it’s a fictional place that’s only in Ratatouille but I know, deep down in the bottom of my heart, that he's wrong because it’s real—”

“Visenya.”

“—Or maybe I shall pay a visit to our aunt and uncles in King’s Landing!”

Luke’s expression shifted into concern. “You’re not supposed to,” he said, his voice low. “Mother said—”

“To hell with what Mother said,” Visenya retorted.

“She will throw a fit if she ever finds out that you were in King’s Landing.”

“She won’t if you cover for me.”

Luke let out an exasperated breath. “I can’t lie for you, ‘enya,” he groaned, running a hand through his dark curls. “It’s not ethical. It feels wrong. It’s like wearing a fur coat to an animal rights rally.”

“Well, I’m going to wear my evil fur coat anyway. What are you going to do? Fight me?” Visenya mocked, putting her hands on her hip. She knew Luke would never actually fight her. “You know I’ll win.”

“Yeah, right,” Luke scoffed, but there was no malice in his voice and his eyes were full of amusement.

“Have fun with your Zoom meeting with Mark Zuckerfuck and Warren Buffalo, Lukey Lou,” Visenya said, trudging past him and continuing her journey up the Dragonmount.

“Be safe! Don’t go looking for trouble,” Luke called. Visenya looked back.

“When have I ever?” she said, giving her brother a mischievous grin.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

When Aemond opened his eyes, the sun was already shining through his windows and the castle was noisy with activity. A wave of panic swept over him.

Fuck, I overslept, he thought. He had planned to venture out into King’s Landing early at sunrise to get himself a job, and now he was already behind schedule.

Aemond threw his blankets to the side and jumped out of bed. He sped through his haircare routine and started to dress as quickly as possible. As he pulled on his jacket, Aemond felt his heart racing and his palms sweating. Today was the first day of job hunting and he was starting off on the wrong foot.

The servants had already set up his breakfast on the table in his chambers. Just as he was about to sit down for a quick bite, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," the prince said.

It was the serving boy he saw yesterday at his father’s solar — a scrawny lad of around two and ten. He was gingerly holding a small package wrapped in a green cloth. The boy gulped as he made eye contact with Aemond. He stepped forward and presented the package timidly with both hands.

“Prince Aegon sent this to you as a gift,” he squeaked. Aemond raised a single eyebrow. He took the bundle from the serving boy and the lad scurried off.

Sitting down at his dining table, Aemond unwrapped the cloth, revealing a glass bottle filled with a golden oil and a small note scrawled in his brother’s horrendous handwriting.

Sorry about your serum.

Aemond held the glass bottle up to the light to inspect it, turning it in his hands. Cautiously, he pulled the cork from the bottle and sniffed it. A pungent smell wafted up his nostrils.

Olive oil. Aegon’s idea of haircare.

Aemond tossed the bottle into the trash.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

On Aemond’s thirteenth nameday, Aegon had shown him a secret tunnel that ran from Maegor’s Holdfast to the heart of the city. His first experience of the tunnel was not a particularly happy one. Aemond had hoped that he would never have to use it again, but now he was grateful that he knew of its existence.

To disguise himself, he had stolen peasant clothes from the servant’s quarters and thrown a cloak over his head. For good measure, Aemond had also ditched his conspicuous eyepatch in favor of a large pair of black sunglasses. He thought he looked like the guys in Men in Black, but a cooler, hotter medieval version.

Sneaking out of the Red Keep was easy. Finding a job in King’s Landing was much harder.

Every shop he tried already had enough staff or wasn’t even hiring. He’s knocked on the doors of a dozen storehouses, asked all the vendors in Cobbler’s Square, and pleaded to the blacksmiths on the Street of Steel. He even ventured into a fish market, bile rising up his throat at the stench, but the merchants all shooed him off as if he were nothing more than shit stuck at the bottom of their shoe.

And there was quite a lot of that in King’s Landing. Aemond couldn’t count the number of times he had to side-step puddles of piss and excrement on the streets. Occasionally, people would empty their chamber pots from their windows. Once Aemond had gotten very close to being drenched in the waste, and he would have if he hadn’t had the quick reflexes he learned from sword fighting. To make things worse, King’s Landing was especially hot today, making the city stink even more than usual.

The bells of the Great Sept chimed twelve. Aemond's stomach grumbled. If he were at the Red Keep, he’d be having lunch by now.

Aemond might’ve been born a prince, but out here, as he wandered in the very city his family ruled, his silver hair and violet eye hidden in commoner’s garb, he could not help but feel like a mere speck of dust in a vast universe. He hadn't felt this helpless since the night he lost his eye.

Eventually, the prince came across a shabby old store that advertised a job opening.

Aemond’s heart skipped a beat. Finally! He moved closer to the shop window to get a better look at the sign.

Now Hiring — Desk Clerk.

Must Have Master’s Degree.

Must Have A Positive Attitude.

Must Be Fluent in Every Language Ever.

Must Have Worked for NASA and Gone to the Moon, Twice.

Must Have At Least 99 Years of Experience in Customer Service.

Must be Proficient in the Art of Time Travel and Have At Least 

Five Years of Experience in A Time Travel Related Field

Must Have Two Eyes.

Aemond shook his head in disbelief. Feeling dispirited, he continued down the street.

“Larys' feet photography service is sounding very good now,” he muttered to himself.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

From high above on her dragon, Visenya had a breathtaking view of the Red Keep. The fortress dominated the skyline of King's Landing like a red giant, looming over the city with its majestic towers and sharp spires reaching up toward the heavens.

Visenya was impressed. Although Dragonstone was imposing, the Red Keep had an elegance that her ancestral home lacked.

She parked her dragon on the outskirts of the city, landing gently in an isolated area near a wood. 

"I want you to stay low for me, can you do that for me, Silverwing?" She asked the dragon. Silverwing huffed.

"How long will I be gone? Well, I don't know exactly," Visenya said. Silverwing tilted her head, swinging her tail.

"Uh, yeah, you can take a leave."

Silverwing narrowed her eyes. Visenya sighed.

"A paid leave. For the entire week."

Silverwing let out a puff of smoke.

"Fine, two weeks. You should be grateful, that's more than what most Americans get in a year."

The dragon took off without looking back.

As she approached the city gates, Visenya noticed several guards keeping watch at the entrance. They were stopping any traveler who wished to pass. She saw one of them unhood a peasant boy before stepping away and letting him enter the gates. Visenya froze in her tracks for a moment, trying to think of a way to enter the city without being identified.

Then she remembered she had her Uber app on her phone. She quickly pulled it out and ordered a ride.

Can't wait to see the city, she thought as she sat down against a tree not far from the road. Maybe I'll even try some street food.

A horse-drawn wagon arrived three hours later.

Trust King’s Landing to have a terrible Uber service, Visenya thought, getting up from her spot beneath the tree. She took a few seconds to catch her balance, for her legs had fallen asleep.

The driver was a fragile-looking old man with a long, wispy beard. His face was lined with deep wrinkles and he wore a faded brown tunic that was a few sizes too big for him. When he saw her, he was taken aback.

“Where’s yer master, boy?” he called. Visenya instinctively reached to pull her cap down in case some silver hairs came loose.

“It’s just me, sir,” she said in her best I-am-definitely-not-a-woman voice.

“Didn’t expect yer,” the old man said. “No one from 'round here uses Uber. It's always the rich Braavosi merchants who call me when they visit the area. Yer a Kingslander, boy?”

“No, sir. Just a visitor.”

“Aye. That explains it.”

Visenya climbed in the back of the wagon and tried to look as discreet as possible as they approached the gates. Just as she suspected, the Gold Cloaks only cared about her driver and let them go without ever giving her a glance.

They probably don't know what an Uber is, Visenya thought. Clearly, the Gold Cloaks had not managed to stay up to date with the world since Daemon left the City Watch.

The old man dropped her off in a bustling square at the center of King's Landing. Visenya took in the new sights around her. The sounds of carts, horses, and people melded into a constant hum that permeated through the city.

Her parents avoided King’s Landing like a plague. The stories she had heard behind their reasoning were too many and varied to count. From tales of her brother Luke slashing her uncle’s eye in a fight to her father’s unceasing hatred for her step-grandmother to her grandsire’s outrage at Rhaenyra and Daemon's marriage. But all of these had added up to mean only one thing to her: Visenya had never seen the majestic city that held the seat of her family’s power.

But now she was starting to think she would've been just fine without seeing it. From the sky, King's Landing looked marvelous with its beautiful red roofs. But on the ground, right in the very heart of it, it was a very different story.

It's like the smell of a person's armpits after a decade of no bathing was made into a city, Visenya thought. She wished she had brought her Dior J'Adore Eau De Parfum.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Aemond Targaryen has seen his share of challenges throughout his nineteen-year-old life. He has had his eye taken out, been subjected to bullying by his brother and his nephews, and he's had to endure the embarrassment of having his delirious father mistake him for his older half-sister a dozen times.

Aemond Targaryen was also not a weak man. He was easily the most talented swordsman in all of King's Landing and had been taught by Ser Criston Cole himself. He had trained with the blade and spent years studying history and philosophy to prepare himself for the Targaryen Hunger Games and hopefully the Iron Throne (should Aegon die prematurely by alcohol poisoning).

But nothing could have prepared him to be dressed in a Vhagar mascot costume in King's Landing's Journey into Old Valyria Theme Park.

The afternoon sun beat down on him as he stood in front of a volcano-shaped roller coaster called The Fourteen Fires. Sweat beaded down his temples. His costume made him feel like he was being baked alive.

It wasn't the ideal job, but it was the only one hiring that didn't require any experience or qualifications.

Aemond stood watching as families moved past him. A little boy of around five years was perched on top of his father's shoulders, a wide smile on his face as he gazed at the attractions.

Aemond couldn’t remember the last time Viserys even held his hand.

It was ironic, really. Journey into Old Valyria was his father's idea. After years of carefully constructing a model of Old Valyria, the king had decided for a theme park to be built based on his model. There would be dragon-themed roller coasters, dragon-themed bumper cars, and 4D dark rides that would transport riders back to the days of the ancient city, the king decided.

The theme park was built soon after Rhaenyra and her clan had left for Dragonstone. The king, weighed down by the grief of his favorite child's departure, had taken up the vanity project. Alicent had been more than willing to encourage it, sensing that it kept Viserys occupied and out of her bed.

Aemond had only been here once, at its opening when he was fifteen. That day had ended with Aegon's hair being set on fire and Otto grabbing the nearest fire hose to douse it. 

They never came here again.

Aemond snapped out of his thoughts as a little boy ran up to him. The prince raised a large claw and gave the child a wave. The kid squealed and started grabbing his tail.

"Whoa, hey buddy, not the tail," Aemond said.

The kid didn't listen. Aemond backed away but the little boy only squealed louder and ran after him. The sound attracted the attention of other children and soon he had a horde of tiny humans chasing him, trying to grab his tail with their grubby little hands.

"Vhagar! Vhagar! Vhagar!" They chanted.

He tried to outrun them but the costume made his movements sluggish. Aemond felt his world tilting and before he knew it, he had been tackled to the ground. The children piled on top of him, chanting while tugging at his snout and pulling at his wigs. Aemond felt like he was being sacrificed in a satanic ritual.

"Arrgh— fuck off!" Aemond shouted, trying to shake them off.

"Vhagar! Vhagar! VHAGAR!"

The prince felt a sickening feeling forming in his stomach. He had not eaten since breaking fast and it was now well into the afternoon. The heat and exhaustion were taking a toll on him, and Aemond suddenly felt nauseous and had an urgency to throw up.

With the kids still on him, he started gagging and hacking. Vomit spewed out of the eye holes of his Vhagar costume. The kids' joyful shouts quickly turned to ones of utter horror and, in seconds, they all ran, screaming in every direction.

Aemond groaned. With his vomit splattered on Costume Vhagar, he stumbled as he began searching for the nearest trash can, trying to keep his feet under him as he fought some dizziness. He finally found a large green garbage bin at the back of the visitor center. Aemond quickly threw the vomit-soaked dragon costume inside it.

With sweat dripping off his forehead and puke stained on his clothes, the prince sat down on the ground beside the bin to catch his breath, pulling his knees together against his chest. He took off his black sunglasses and his hood, letting his silver hair hang loose over his shoulder.

Although the back of the building was thankfully isolated, Aemond no longer had the strength to care about being recognized.

You're not going to cry, you're not going to cry, he told himself, staring at his hands. You didn't cry when he took out your eye, you sure as hell aren't going to cry just because some children attacked you.

"Are you alright, Uncle Aemond?"

Aemond's head snapped up in a panic. A peasant boy of around his age was walking towards him.

Aemond was thinking that the lad had unusually curvy hips when the boy pulled his cap down and let a wave of silver hair — the same color as his own — cascade down his back. Aemond took a closer look at his face and realized it was actually a girl.

"Who are you?" Aemond gasped.

Chapter 4: The Drag Queen Vhagar

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Poor Aemond had a rough day :(

[savorysatori]

— 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄, 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘. ✗

“choke me, spank me, look at me, thank me.”

— sypnosis: working as a maid in a new house is very exciting, you get the money and everything goes well. although, once you’re introduced to the son of the parents, everything goes down hill.

cw, warning: size kink (?), creep!ushi, pictures without consent, nipple play, gn!reader, non-con, somnophilia, sloppy sex, dry humping, praise, panty stealer ushi.

% wc: 2234.

↷ a/n: y’all have no idea how long this was sitting in my drafts, for fucking 5 weeks plsssss- anyways I hope you all enjoy! this was rlly fun to do. also! shoutout to daisy, this collab was really cool! congratulations on 1K bb. <//3

— @daisy-bakugo, PORNSCAPE EVENT! ilyy.

You were everything he wanted, everything he fantasized about.

[1,000.]

That’s how much they were paying.

It was enough to have you accept the job immediately. It was enough to have you choose between two of the slightly revealing maid dresses and enough for you to be standing in front of the wakatoshi mansion. Briefcase in hand with a bucket of supplies you were instructed to bring. Everything was just right, you were prepared to clean, everything would go well.

The frilly material of the skirt swayed around your thighs and glided against the softness of your thigh-highs. Glistening jewels of your gold bracelets glimmering in the hot sun shining down on your skin. The thin line of thread held up the damp clothes, shredding any of the excess water soaked into them. All of the Wakatoshi’s clothing were fancy. Gold lining stitched in the middle or at the end of the cloth, it was clear they were wealthy. But, it somehow amazed you when your eyes glided to the very end of the line — some shirts & shorts were childlike. Pictures of guns and cars were painted onto a black shirt, it looked like something a 5th grader would do. ‘Maybe they had a child?’ You didn’t know, you only met the parents. Folding up the dry ones, you’d stuff them into the cart and push them towards the other line of clothes swishing in the breezy wind.

You finished doing the daily chores, slipping into their kitchen that was designed well with a beautiful interior. Cold marble was felt up against your skin as you tipped the bottle of wine into your glass, clacking against it. Your glossy lips propped up against the cup and took small sips of the fruity flavor. It slid down your throat and surged a zing of bitterness back up to take in the taste, so sweet and yet so unpleasant at the same time. You’d lick the juice off your lips and place it down steadily on the counter, looking up to see a heady gaze sharped on you.

6’2 and steady build towering over you with dark olive hair — was the wakatoshi’s son. Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Your body stayed still, unmoving. He wasn’t anywhere near a 3rd grader - more like a full grown adult. Tongue peeking out from your teeth to lick the dryness seeping between the cracks, your eyelids hooded.

“Uh- Hello! You must the wakatoshi’s son, I’m the new maid.” Extending your hand out to meet his; his hand stayed at his side, not seeming to shift to engulf yours. You’d drop it back beside you and nipped at your lip when the silence between you both continued.

“Well, I’ll see you around. Nice to meet you.. Ushijima! Your parents told me about you.”

You’d excuse yourself away from his intimidating gaze and close the door behind you. Maybe it’s a good idea to introduce myself another time.

The same look from before followed you out of the kitchen, watching you as you’d take up the laundry basket. His eyes kept gawking at your every move. Staring with every bit of emotion nobody could decipher, Toshi wasn’t a very talkative man and it was visible. He situated himself in the shadows and looked from above, staying out of any scandals his parents were exposed to. He did keep his eye on you. Stepping out of his secure area and making every note to try and approach you without seeming like a creep. His creep intentions did creep up back into his system when you started staying at his house, sleeping in a guest room 8 feet away from his room. It was easy; so easy to sneak into it when the moon raised in the dead of night.

Soft thuds of his feet against the carpet thankfully didn’t alert anyone, giving him the time to steal peeps at your sleeping state. Comforter pulled up. Oversized shirt to cover up the intimate parts of your body he dearly wanted to explore. Soft breaths left your pink lips to breathe it in again, his cock stirring at the sound of it. Toshi knew what was right from wrong, he knew that doing something like this would cost his life — but, dear god you were everything he dreamed of. He couldn’t stop now.

His calloused hands raised the shirt for him to be able to see your tummy, sliding his fingers down to the waistband of your panties. They were so simple and adorned your skin beautifully, keeping the heat between your legs warm just for him. His free hand unzipped his jeans and let them pool at his ankles, such as his boxers. You stirred slightly at the foreign touch, brows creasing forward. He stilled until you relaxed back into slumber, his fingers separated your thighs, and slowly slid the oozing head of his cock between them.

“Ah, princess, f-fuuck.” breath ragged, eyes shut closed to take in the bliss. Contentment streamed through him, his hips rocking against you to feel more, more of you. He was greedy. Toshi was insatiable, he wanted everything of you. He didn’t just want — he needed you. It was a plea. A whine for you, a need. The selfishness ran through his family, that’s how he inherited it. From his family. Was he ashamed? No. Not when you felt so good right now, not when he was about to reach the orgasm he was climbing to.

Sweat fanned down his toned chest, abs glistening with droplets of precipitation. His hips rocked forward one last time, cum spurting from his head and between the soft flesh of your thighs. It was sticky and slimy, rolling down to cover every little spot.

The sight of you sleeping soundly while his cum leaked from between your thighs, made the flaccid touch of his cock stir. You were just so pretty, a pretty little something he wanted to scoop up for himself. And he would do it with no trouble whatsoever. His hand slid down to grab his phone from the floor, lying face down. Toshi aimed right in the frame, snapping a picture for later. He stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans and scurried away from your room, not bothering to clean up the mess of his dry cum smeared on you.

Pressing the ‘start’ button you watched the clothes in the machine swirl with bubbles of soap clouding over them. One hand on the machine and knocking it occasionally to make it turn on again. “Barely working.” You’d mutter.

Despite the Wakatoshi’s being filthy rich, their laundry room wasn’t at all cooperative. There were brown pieces of wood peeling off the wall with stains of what seemed to look like dry substance splattered on it. A bunch of plastic bags and socks were pushed to the corner of the room, dirty ones to be exact. Not much laid in the room other than the things you had listed — except for the posters of lewd manga hanging from the cluttered shelves.

The cool air of the basement door opening brushed up against you, your eyes drifting to see who it was. Standing there was Toshi. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. His expression was the same as always, stern and uninterested. You were both met with the silence from yesterday, uneasiness creeping up back to you.

Bothering not to talk, you turned back to the machine to see it at twenty-one minutes. It was almost done and you could leave to wrench away from the awkward silence you were sitting in. You could still feel his presence, you knew he was there and it was uncomfortable. So many questions were left unanswered in your head, you couldn’t understand them.

The back of your skirt was flipped up to meet your back, his clothed length pressed against you. He was hard. There was no doubt he wasn’t big, and that was what made your eye sockets almost swell out. He slowly rocked the fabric of your panties along with his bulge. Fingernails digging into your hip and pushing you up more to gain more access and spread your legs.

“Ushijima-“ words of confusion scrabbled out from your mouth quickly, “w-what are you doing?”

“Shh.” He jabbed the curve of your back and made you lay pressed against the cold exterior of the rattling washing machine. His words flustered you, it provoked you to stay quiet. You had never heard his voice before and a situation like this only shook your brain into a deeper hole of complication. “J-Just — let me do this, let me try it out. Once.”

And you did. You let him try it just once, you let him delude into the fantasy he had been dreaming of. You let him do it. Once.

You calmed down from the aftershock of his tongue sending you to see stars, arms jerking when the feeling of his hot touch pressing your face against the door of the machine. Your fingers tightening around the handle and pulling on it slightly, cheeks swelling up with heat. The sounds of your whimpers and tiny jolts sent him to push along more, arm encircling around your stomach, his voice breathy against the shell of your ear. You were like a succubus, a being he couldn’t leave nor escape, so alluring, sweet and he had just met you not too long ago.

The smack of his cock meeting his stomach caused you to crank your head back, looking over to see a beautiful sight. Ushijima’s cock was thick, curving gently upwards. The skin was a light shade of cream, and the head was large, pink, expanding tip. “Ushi-“ your voice was wavery, unsure paring with it.

He’d shush you again, angling your leg up as his lips pressed a kiss to your glistening cunt. Toshi took notice of your expressions when he slid into the warmth delves; brows creased together and little words scampering out from your lips. Latching onto the handle and pulling it ever so often when he hit a certain spot, whenever the tip of his cock caressed against your cervix- it was so beautiful seeing you be reduced to a quivering, blubbering mess. A surreal sight he would only see.

“You’re so damn tight. So wet, so willing.. just like that baby.” The pump of his hips made you lose yourself over and over again, a mixture of sounds that were all kinds of slobbery and slurred due to your dizziness. His pace picked up with renewed energy, slick and wet sounds fill the air, sweaty bodies clamping against each other. The whines and pants of his name being drowned out, so pathetic- clinging to the latch and crumbling under his touch. It drove him like a mad man, his brain clattering, the way you took him in with no problem amazed him, you were so inviting and supple.

“S’too b-big! Ushi- ah! -“

The whines of him being too big impaled itself into his brain, your shivering body and cunt wrapped around all together had already made him blank out, now with your pleas, it caused a switch in his head to flip and jack-hammer himself into you. Pump after pump. It made your eyelashes flutter with droplets of tears risking to stream down the fat of your cheeks. His hands holding you firmly, brows furrowed with grunts flowing into your right ear. A grunt rippled from him as his cock throbbed harshly inside you, the feeling making him come undone right there.

“Just like that, ah, fuck you make me feel so good.”

Wrinkled skirt falling to the floor, his cock pulling out of you slowly with globs of cum dribbling out of you, he’d shuffle around till you faced him fully now with a perplexed look on your face. The shirt becoming loose as Toshi’s lips wrapped around the sensitive nipple, suckling and easing any leftover moans out from your throat. His hands placing you on the machine and attaching his lips back onto your nipple, tongue flat against your sweaty skin.

“Fuck, U-Ushi! holy- fuck, just like that.” Your back straining as you leaned back, gasping and threading your fingers through his hair to balance. Toshi wasn’t one with words, his statue being quiet and still. But, words poured out from his lips at the sound of your moans, when you were so good for him.

“So, good.. pretty. pretty, like a beauty.” He pulled off of it with a squelch, standing up high and cupping your chin to stare in your love drunk eyes. “You were so good for me, yeah?”

You nodded, vision hazy and eyes occasionally blinking to peer up at him with a blurry image. Your head rested in the crook of his neck, sniffling as he picked up the soiled panties from the floor and stuffed them into his back pocket. They were red and pink, swirly designs on them, he found them so cute. He slid your legs around him and walked out of the room, leaving the washing machine to rattle in the background with soap and water overflowing onto the ground.

Ushijima just couldn’t leave you after that day, he stuck to you like glue. Who could blame him? You were everything he wanted, everything he had fantasized about.