#(like she literally smeared shit on her face lol) she’s now being very careful of what she says …

[swordmaid]

just got the durge reveal..!!! screamnnn it’s saur good when you actually have a durge specific character and not just an au of the char you previously made lol. anyway I’m just imagining yves admitting that she’s one of bhaal’s children and then her going like oh btw I was his bride too 🧍‍♀️

[undergrounddweller89]

(look you don't have to like this, I'm not expecting anyone to, I just needed to write and if there's the possibility that even one person was hoping I'd write more and enjoys it then that's cool, just don't be a dick about it, it's more house mate au stuff, don't hope for continuity by that I mean it's just all over the place and nothing makes sense , just expect what ever came to my head at the time lol)

Walter was sat at his work table, fiddling with one of his new devices working on to perfect it, no I can't think of anything specific so I'll let you fill in that with your imagination.

The day had been long, his lab assistant Timothy Lawrence (Yea that Timothy if you know him because reasons) had been pretty quiet but done as told so at least that made it easier.

He was tired as the day had gone on his mood had sunk, what was he doing teasing Killian like that, honestly spanking him with the hair brush, he knew some of the things Killian had been up to.

But it was more likely a sign of marking territory or just because he had needs right and it was exciting to do things where you shouldn't.

The blade he was handling slipped and ran across the pad of his index finger, he hissed in pain, seeing the blood smear under the blue latex, pooling to drip, focusing on the red colour he hadn't even noticed Timothy running to fetch the first aid kit.

Pulling his gloves off he discarded them and popped open the box that had been set on the table.

"Thanks Timmy."

Walter smiled a little as he tended to his finger, he hated how the skin felt parting every time he flexed his finger.

Cleaning up and applying what was needed, thankful it wouldn't need stitches.

He wondered what Killian was up to, watching TV, reading maybe, did he eat, did he have enough to drink, was he in a depressive mood, was he mad that hed spanked him, he really should send a message.

Pulling his phone from his lab pocket he texted him.

'Hope you're day has been good, hope you're well, sorry if I upset you this morning.'

He shifted and rubbed a shoulder, he didn't realise how stiff his back had gone, being in charge of a division meant he'd somewhat lost track of self care making sure to do his stretches.

Timothy stood here watching his boss, lot better than the last one, this one was kind and genuine, always looking out for people, honestly Beckett made him feel safe and relaxed, he wasn't looking for anything serious but even he could see that furrowed bow and the lean that spelt hey I'm exhausted let me die.

Walking around and behind him he slowly massaged his shoulders, they were small and rather petite for someone Walter's age but it was more lean muscle and just body build, he just hadn't seen many men like Walter where he'd come from, he was rather pretty.

Walter had considered telling him to stop but when his fingers pressed into that one perfect spot in his shoulder blades he melted, ooooh that just felt so damn good and shit when was the last time he'd had contact, had someone be closer to him...he liked Killian...wondered if they could be more, but he didn't believe for one second that they could be lovers or bed fellows for one moment...not that he wouldn't be interested in finding out but Killian had been there a month, like he wasn't going to make him uncomfortable and feel like that the only way he could stay was if he dated him.

(I keep forgetting times or how many days set shrugs just don't expect like decent continuity, I write these because I need to just write things and moments)

Walter leaned forward arms folded and face buried in them

"Sorry sir, am I doing that badly?"

Timothy's enquired nervously, his hands going still.

"No, please don't stop, I literally didn't realise how stiff I was, you have good hands, I'm just so tired Timothy, I could really use it if you don't mind that is."

"Not at all sir."

Tim smiled happy to know he was helping, yes much nicer than his last boss, Walter was smart but he was also fragile, like him he loved his mother and when he'd heard Walters mother had died when he was small he wanted to scoop him up and just hug him.

A talk with Lance at one point and he'd learned that was a natural reaction for anyone with a heart around Walter who didn't have their head up their ass.

Which had practically been the last tech department Beckett had worked in, that totally wasn't cool that they'd done that to such a brilliant mind, it was so much fun working on items that didn't kill people and actually helped them!

Walter was imagining the fingers loosening the knots in his back were Killian, wondered what that would feel like with those pretty metal claws, but he never forgot it was Timothy, after all Timothy deserved more respect than that.

Looking over his shoulder at him, auburn hair flopping off to one side, Tim's hands on his waist he noticed the subtle blush.

"You wanna go grab some dinner or something in a minute there's a corner café I know, makes steak sandwiches and baked potatoes with a perfect crispy skin, a warm meal sounds pretty nice don't you think?"

Tim in the angle he was in was trying not to think about how suggestive this looked, he would absolutely lean down and kiss Walter if he thought it was an option, it really was a casual thing he felt, but Walter just looked so pretty and like he needed someone to carry him right now.

Continuing to rub his back Timothy nodded

"Yeah that sounds pretty nice actually."

---

At home Killian had found plenty to do, he'd read, watched tv, all in Walters bed of course, just to feel close to him as he could, he did wonder after handling himself, if Walter could see him as anything more than a friend, someone more than a few passing jokes between the other...turning his head and taking in his scent as he buried his face into a pillow again, looking forward to seeing those blue eyes...he should really get out of Walter's bed and get the covers washed.

Beckett brought comfort to his mind after his years of suffering, the sunrise after the storm.

He'd talked to Lovey, wondering if she could understand him, she was surprisingly responsive to his rambling as he worked on his arm, updating the tech and keeping up with maintenence.

Living here with Walter and slowly working past things with Lance and seeing he had genuinely started changes of his own, it made it easier with how Walter talked about him on the job, that he considered all options before violence and discussed the situations with him...it was good to know Beckett had helped Lance to.

He was glad to know Walter's field partner was a good one, though his lab partner, this Timothy Lawrence seemed to be pretty chummy didn't he, he'd seen a picture, thick brown hair, heterochromia eyes, blue and green to be exact and a chiseled jaw, in other words a damn pretty boy and he didn't want him around Walter.

He huffed folding his arms, yes he was jealous he was going to be pouty, before his injury he had thick black hair and had been known to be a very handsome man, now he looked like he'd been put through a grinder when he took off his holo mask and this Timothy Lawrence just had to be Walter's lab partner, he'd be around him alot and-

His phone buzzed, it'd been put on the side table and he read the text that'd come through and there was another one.

'Going out to dinner with Timothy, don't know what time I'll be back, have fun you probably need a break from me anyway lol 😂'

Killian's eye twitched, he nearly threw the damn phone, but how would he explain that, honestly he couldn't, Tristan sighed, shoulders drooping a little and answered his questions

'It's been a relaxing day, did work on the arm, Lovey' s surprisingly easy to talk to, watched a little television but perhaps you could suggest something to watch, it's rather hard deciding with all these options and no Walter you didn't upset me, though you left in a hurry, you do not need to avoid me. You're not a bother. Are you alright?'

'I'm so happy you're warming up to her! That's awesome! Also it's good you have time to relax, ten years of hectic stress you're more than overdue! I...well I was more embarrassed than anything, I reacted on instinct, last boyfriend liked that well that's probably more than you needed to know, but yeah I'll help you pick something to watch see you later!'

Last boyfriend? Spanking, Walter had, he had...Killian shifted well the blankets were starting to tent, the idea of being put over Walters petite lap and being told he was a very bad man came to mind.

He liked it.

A lot.

He looked at his phone as it pinged again.

'And god damn it, make sure you eat something for dinner, don't just go picking out the cupboard!'

Killian snickered and replied

'Yes Daddy, I'll make sure to eat something.'

After sending the text he realised what he'd written and wished he could take back that text, wincing as he managed to look at the response

'Behave, eat dinner or I'll put you over my knee young man.'

Killian stared and stared at that answer, he knew Walter was just teasing but, his cheeks were warm and he was...was he blushing.

----

"You all set to go Timothy?"

Walter smiled, his back was feeling a hundred times better after Timothy had dug into the knots, it wasn't a surprise that he was good with his hands, you had to have nimble ones to work with the tech they used here.

"Yeah, just coming boss!"

He pulled his satchel over his shoulder after pulling on his old brown leather jacket

"Please Timothy don't call me that, call me daddy."

Walter laughed at how silly that sounded

"I'm sorry, pfffft don't call me that god please, no, Walter's just fine."

Tim had paused a moment a slight fear he might have a streak like his last boss after all but that laugh was too warm and giggly and just shook his head with a smile

"Wouldn't dream of it Walter, you're more of a kitten anyway."

Timmy felt his insides tighten a little and there was that hint of Jack Dna surfacing.

"So shall we go?"

Beckett enquired looking up at him, huh he kinda looked like Killian, just a little.

"Ready when you are."

And with that they were off.

(Alright end of this ramble, Timothy has been thrown in because I needed the gasp drama of prolongation and shit and didn't have the energy to create an oc and honestly I'll mash anything from anywhere if it's convenient bleh)

[let-it-raines]

Every Monday Morning (1/1)

Emma Swan likes her routines. She wakes up at four in the morning, goes to work as a host on The Morning Show, spends her day doing segments about cooking and this season’s fashion trends, and then she goes home to spend time with her son and help him with his homework. She’s finally found something stable, and she doesn’t like change. 

So when the show’s regular chef retires and is replaced by Killian Jones, it throws Emma for a loop that she doesn’t necessarily like. 

At least not at first. 

Rating: Teen

a/n: So, I’m a day early as it’s her birthday tomorrow, but I realized today I won’t be able to post tomorrow because of family obligations. I think @searchingwardrobes​ might be okay with spreading the celebration out a bit! 

Happy (almost) Birthday to the birthday queen herself ❤️ You are an absolute gift of a person who spends time writing stories for most everyone on their birthdays, and while I can’t do quite that, I thought I’d write you a little something because you absolutely deserve it! It’s been a joy getting to know you! I hope that you have the best day with your family! 🎉

Thanks @wellhellotragic​ for helping me figure out what to write about, even if I rejected everything. lol. And also, nonnie, I promise the “read more” is being used, so I’m sorry if it doesn’t work on mobile!

Found on AO3 | Here |

Tag list: @captainsjedi @wellhellotragic @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer  @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @xellewoods​ @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven  @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @ultimiflos @jamif @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke  @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81

-/-

It’s five in the morning, Emma has coffee in her ridiculously oversized mug that Henry gave her for her birthday last year, and she absolutely does not want to be awake right now. She wants to be in her pajamas, and she wants to have to struggle to get out of bed and to have to make Henry breakfast that he’ll take two bites out of before deciding that he doesn’t actually want the pancakes she made. It’s been an obnoxious thing lately, his weird aversion to foods after saying that he wants them, and she’s really going to need him to grow out of that habit.

Kids are freaking weird, and after ten years of motherhood, she still has no idea what she’s doing.

“Stop twitching,” Ruby grumbles.

“I am not twitching.”   “You are.” Ruby huffs, and Emma straightens herself in the chair before taking a slow sip of coffee. “It’s not easy to put your eyeliner on, and it’s even more difficult if you keep moving.”

“I am not moving, Rubes,” Emma insists before crossing her leg over her knee only for Ruby to slap it away so that both feet are on the bottom of the chair. “Okay, maybe I am a little bit, but I didn’t get the chance to workout this morning, and I’m feeling all jittery.”

Ruby hums, and Emma tries to relax her eyes so that Ruby can keep working on her makeup without it smearing. “Why not? Did you not sleep well last night?”

“We were up late doing Henry’s homework. I swear, I’m not that old, but some of his stuff I’ve never heard of. The math is killing me. I would never in my life want Neal to come back, but I feel like it would almost be acceptable if he could do this math.” “That bad, huh?”

“That bad.”

“Stop wrinkling your nose.”

“I am not.” “You are,” Ruby laughs as her finger hits the tip of Emma’s nose. “Give me ten more minutes, and then you can get dressed and take a few minutes to eat something and drink your coffee.”

“It’s Monday,” Emma sighs. “It’s Chef Rudianni day. I’m about to eat everything that he cooks when he does his segment.”

Ruby stops the light pressure of the sponge on Emma’s cheek, and she opens her eyes to see that Ruby is staring at her with an apologetic smile. Shit.

“Chef Rudianni retired last week, Ems. We’ve got a new guy, and whew, let me tell you, he’s as hot as the food that he’s going to teach you to make.”

Disappointment settles in Emma’s stomach. Maybe that’s just the lack of food…the lack of Chef Rudianni’s food. “You are shameless and also breaking my heart.” Emma groans and leans back in the chair while crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t care how attractive the new guy is. I wake up at four in the morning every Monday with the hope that I can get food from Rudy. It is literally the only thing that gets me through the day.”

“Being a host on one of the most popular morning shows in America doesn’t do it for you? You work for half a day and then are home in time to spend all afternoon with Henry.”

Emma grunts and waves Ruby away. “Yeah, whatever. You don’t have to rub it in my face that I’m lucky to make me feel bad about it.”

“That’s what friends are for, my darling. Now, arch your left brow. I need to fix that little stray.”

Ruby keeps prodding and plucking and doing everything that she does every morning to make Emma look camera ready and not like she’s waiting to die from lack of sleep, and while it’s usually Emma’s time to relax, she doesn’t get much of that when her producers come in and run her through this morning’s program. Emma never does any “real” news, which is perfectly okay with her. There’s enough darkness in the world that she doesn’t want to have to extensively deal with that while at work. Instead, she spends her mornings talking to people who run their first marathons at the age of sixty, tries on different outfits for each of the seasonal trends, and gets to pretend that she knows how to cook as she does cooking segments.

Chef Rudianni made it easy for her to pretend that she had something more than basic cooking skills, even if he did very obviously make fun of her off the screen, but she never cared about that because the food was that good.

She’s not entirely sure about this new guy, and she hasn’t even met him yet. He better be able to cook pie for Thanksgiving. That’s what’s she’s going to miss the most.

(Emma is obviously very hungry right now, and she’s not even technically supposed to eat that much of the food.)

“You look happy this morning,” David teases her as she settles down at her chair behind the desk.

“It’s Monday, and I’m tired.”

“Working on a morning news show was not your calling.”

Emma rolls her eyes and twists in the chair as Mary Margaret, the second half of the power couple of The Morning Show, sits down in her chair next to David, and Will Scarlet, their weather and sports guy, sits opposite of her. They’ve got maybe ten different hosts total, especially since this show lasts for five hours, but the four of them have been the main four for the last three years. It’s nice, even if their personalities can clash, but Emma likes to think that’s what makes it interesting. Mary Margaret and David are both so full of hope and happiness, and the energy radiating from the two of them make it easier for she and Will to be a little more optimistic about things.

(There was once an incident with Will laughing at a story about a woman who made her living making sweaters for dogs, and they had a month-long sensitivity training session afterward. That also may be why they are all unwaveringly positive on-air.)

Emma hums and reaches forward to grab her coffee cup, wishing and willing that the caffeine will help her make it through the day. “I think I was meant to be, like, a late-night host or something, but then I couldn’t get away with wearing slippers underneath the desk and would have to be funny all the time.”

“Does it hurt to wear heels even while you’re sitting?” Will asks.

“Why don’t you try it one day, Scarlet? I’ve got someone coming in tomorrow to show the fall color trends for shoes. I’m sure she could give you a pair to try on. You’ll look great delivering the news in some plum pumps.”

“I’d do it. You know that.”

“We’re live in thirty seconds,” their producers call out, and each of them turn from each other back to face the camera, coffee mugs put down and hair adjusted with perfectly white smiles etched across their faces.

Three.

Two.

One.

“Good morning, America,” David begins.

“And welcome to The Morning Show,” Mary Margaret finishes.

And thus they begin.

The first ten or so minutes is spent with David and Mary Margaret reading off little snippets of news before connecting it to their personal lives, talking about their kids and their relationship before throwing it off to Will and Emma and to banter back and forth. Emma never talks about Henry on-air. His existence isn’t something she shares with the world, mostly because she doesn’t want Neal suddenly popping back in realizing that he has a son. He would definitely try to take advantage of her again and use her job and Henry as some way to advance his life, and Emma isn’t here for that. So, she plays the part of a single twenty-eight-year-old woman and never shares anecdotes over her life at home. At least not ones that involve Henry.

Soon they all branch off into their different jobs and topics. Emma and Will both leave the main table so that Will can do the weather and Emma can set up to interview a college student who is taking Krispy Kreme donuts and putting his own spin on them, and like every morning, time flies by in a mess of interviews and segments and talking to all of the people who are both crazy and awesome enough to stand outside their studio window just to get a chance to see where they film.

It’s an insane life, one Emma most definitely stumbled into it, but she loves it.

Until she walks over to the fake kitchen they have on set and sees the new guy setting up whatever it is he’s cooking today. Emma stops in her tracks, the heels she put back on scratching against the linoleum floor, and she has to take a moment to collect herself. Ruby wasn’t wrong when she said that the new chef was attractive. He obviously is. Even from here she can see the sharp line of his jaw covered with scruff that’s a shade or two lighter than the black of his hair, and his eyes are so blue that Emma is almost positive they’re contacts. It’s ridiculous. He’s tall, but not outrageously so, and she can see the muscles in his forearms and biceps under the t-shirt that he has on.

Guys who look like that always know that they do, indeed, look like they do, and it’s never good news. They think they’re a gift to women world-wide, and Emma prepares herself for him to be the same way, especially with the way that he’s obviously flirting with one of their production assistants, Tink.

Why in the world did Chef Rudianni have to retire? She’s going to miss him and his sweet elderly man ways where he thought of her more like a granddaughter than anything else.

Taking a deep breath and reminding herself that she’s a professional, Emma walks toward the cooking set, grabs her apron off the hook, ties it around her, and walks up to the guy to introduce herself. He’s a once-a-week segment for four minutes, and it really won’t be that bad. It can’t be.

(Emma hates change.)

“Oh.” Tink jumps when she sees Emma, pink rising on her cheeks, “Mr. Jones, I’d like you to meet Emma Swan.”

The guy’s shoulders tense before he turns around, and Emma’s eyes are immediately hit by the blue, which is even more insane closer up. So is the brightness of the smile that seems to stretch all the way up to his eyes.

He better be a damn good cook.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, love,” he drawls out, the thickness of his British accent curling around his tongue. “Killian Jones, at your service.”

Emma forces a smile and nods her head as she reaches forward to shake his hand. “Emma Swan. Welcome to The Morning Show.”

“I’m glad to be here. Any tips for my time here? Who likes to steal food off the table? Anyone absolutely hate any certain kind of food? Anyone I should avoid?”

Emma releases his hand and cocks her head to the side, trying to size him up. “Just cook the food and smile for the camera when you’re supposed to, and you’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t expect me to be a good assistant. I’m not at all a chef. I faked it.”

He winks, and Emma has to grit her teeth. This guy is obviously a natural flirt. “That’s because you haven’t cooked with me yet.”

-/-

Killian Jones is even more charming on-camera then he is off of it. She has no idea what kind of television work he’s done in the past, if he’s done any at all, and he is every bit the natural at working the camera and the crowd as he takes her through the steps to make an absolutely fantastic end of the summer barbeque for the end of July that has her having to wipe barbeque sauce off her fingers in the middle of the segment. It’s also got everyone else coming over to check out the food, something that almost never happens, and Emma isn’t entirely sure how she feels about any of it.

It’s good for the show, at least. She knows that. She’ll simply have to get used to a little change every Monday morning.

-/-

“Mom,” Henry moans as he flops down on the couch, “I am starving. What’s for dinner?”

Emma shrugs her shoulders and gets up from her favorite chair in the living room to walk the few feet to the kitchen and the fridge. When she opens it, there’s barely anything inside. It’s half a gallon of milk, some cheese sticks, a bag of carrots, and then leftover lasagna Mary Margaret gave them a week ago. Emma needs to go grocery shopping, but she hasn’t had the chance recently. It’s been a crazy few weeks with work, the month of August and half of September flying by, and grocery shopping has been at the bottom of her list of things to do.

Mom of the year award, honestly. She needs to bite the bullet and pay the surcharge to have her groceries delivered, but the frugalness of growing up in the foster system has never really gone away when it comes to things like that. Expensive shoes? Sure, she can spend a few hundred dollars on that. Paying twenty dollars for a delivery fee? No, absolutely not.

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Emma looks at the complete lack of food in the fridge and decides that eating here is not an option. And she cannot eat takeout Chinese food or pizza again this week. That is not an option her stomach will agree with.

(She is making a change when it comes to their eating habits tomorrow. She swears.)

“How about we go out for dinner, kid?”

Henry sits up from the couch and puts his phone down, which is pretty much a miracle since this is the time that he’s allowed to use it, and he looks so much like Neal in this moment that her heart pangs. Or maybe that’s the consistent amount of junk food. She doesn’t really know.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, why not? It’s Friday night, and it’s not like we have anything better to do.”

“I mean, you  don’t have anything better to do. I was going to play my game with Avery.” Emma narrows her eyes at him, and Henry holds up his hands in apology. “Sorry, sorry. Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you find a place we’ve never been, and we’ll go there?” Henry opens his mouth and Emma holds her finger up. “Within one subway stop of here. I don’t want to traipse across the city. Let me go put on some actual pants, and then we’ll go, okay?”

Henry nods his head before quickly grabbing his phone and looking up restaurants while she walks back down the hallway to her bedroom to change out of her pajamas and into a pair of jeans and a light sweater that will keep the chill away since every restaurant is inevitably freezing. She can’t wait until fall truly rolls around and the temperature dips so that she can walk around all bundled up and no one will say a word.

Of course, this is Manhattan, and no one cares if Emma is walking around in nice, clean clothes or a T-rex suit.

When she’s finished getting ready and has run her hands through Henry’s hair to try to calm it down despite his protests, they leave their apartment, saying goodbye to the doorman Henry has pretty much adopted into their family, and follow the GPS to the restaurant Henry picked out. Emma didn’t look into it too much. All she saw was that it had good reviews and food that Henry would most definitely eat without complaint, and she was good to go.

(Her rumbling stomach really helps her make decisions much more quickly than she would otherwise.)

The place is on a corner lot, black gates cornering off the outdoor tables that all have umbrellas open over them if they’re not already covered by the black awnings that extend over the windows and toward the bubble lights that are brightening the space even with the constant flow of street lights and car headlights that keep passing by.

Sweet William.

“Kid,” Emma hesitates as they wait for the crosswalk light to turn on, “this place is packed. I don’t know if we’re going to be able to eat here.”

Henry tugs on her hand, and she looks down at him to see him smile. “Can we please at least try? The website said we didn’t need reservations, and that it has really good cheeseburgers. And those Alexander drinks that you like.”

“You really shouldn’t know about my alcohol preferences.”

“I know that you really like piña coladas, but you’re always too embarrassed to buy those unless we’re at the beach with Mary Margaret and David.”

Emma huffs and tugs Henry closer to her side so that she can kiss his forehead. “I think you’re too observant for your own good.”

“I thought moms wanted their kids to be smart.”

“We do…to a certain extent.”

The light changes and suddenly there’s a rush of people walking across the street. Emma holds onto Henry out of instinct as they move along with the crowd and walk up to the restaurant. Emma doesn’t expect them to get a table, especially once they walk inside and she can see that all of the tables and booths are full, but she asks the hostess anyway. She gives Emma a tight smile, one that is definitely more annoyed than kind, and then they’re told that it’ll be a forty-minute wait unless they want to sit at the bar. Emma’s fine with that, especially since Henry is insistent on getting one of these cheeseburgers, so they’re quickly guided through the restaurant until they get to the bar in the back and are stuck in the corner on the little swivel chairs.

How in the world has she never heard of this place? It’s obviously popular and in walking distance of her apartment. Emma needs to get out more often, but that’s too much effort.

When in the world did she turn into an old woman?

Probably when she had a kid at eighteen and then began getting up for work far before the sun rises.

Henry catches her up on everything that’s been happening at school in the past week. His friends are all obsessed with some new YouTube blogger that she’s going to have to check out, and his science project is due in two weeks. Emma puts a reminder in her phone over that because they will forget about it, and Henry will come home the night before it’s due so that they have to make a last-minute trip to the store for absolutely everything he needs and neither of them will get any sleep.

“Wait, so what happened with Avery’s mom?” Emma asks Henry as she sips on her diet coke.

“She had to go to the emergency – ”

“Swan!”

Emma’s head flips so quickly at the sound of the familiar accent that she almost gets whiplash, and all of the sudden Killian Jones is standing in front of her behind the bar with a stupid grin on his face. It’s the one that he does whenever he’s made a joke after she spectacularly fails at some kind of cooking thing or spills food on her apron, and Emma is experiencing whiplash in more ways than one.

What the hell is he doing here?

“Jones,” she greets, nodding at him. “What are you doing behind the bar?”

He raises his brows, a signature move of his as she’s learned over their weeks of doing segments, but then they settle back down to their normal place. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Nothing,” he sighs as he leans forward and rests his elbow on the bar top. “Who’s this young gentleman? Your date for the evening perhaps?”

Heat rushes to Emma’s cheeks, as well as the urge to mutter a few curses, because this is not good. Not good at all. Only a few people at work know about Henry and those people are people who she spends time with outside of work. Those people are her family, bloodlines be damned. They’re not the chef who comes by every Monday morning and attempts to flirt with her while showing her how to make an apple cider bar for fall holiday parties.

Emma opens her mouth to try to save some face, but then Henry is speaking. “Henry Swan. You’re the guy who teaches my mom to cook on TV.” Henry leans forward and nearly knocks over his drink. “You’re not doing a very good job.”

Emma scoffs while Killian leans back with his hand on his chest and his entire face lit up with his laugh. A few people look over to them, but they quickly turn away while Killian keeps chuckling and Emma finds herself at a total loss for words.

Her son just called her a bad cook and also told someone that he’s her son. How in the world does she react to that?

“I’m trying my best, lad,” Killian chuckles, wiping away a tear from his eye, “but your mum is very much a beginner. Maybe if they let me come in for her show more often, I could help her out more.”

“Maybe,” Henry shrugs. “Do you work here?”

“Aye, I do. This is my restaurant.”

She hopes the floor is clean because Emma’s jaw is about to drop there.

Of all of the restaurants in this city, Henry had to pick this one.

“Cool, so you make the cheeseburgers? The reviews online say they’re really good.”

Killian looks at her, his eyes wide, and Emma realizes that he’s silently asking for her permission to keep talking to Henry. She doesn’t know how she knows that, but she does. Nodding, she tilts her head back toward Henry.

“I have other chefs that help me out,” Killian continues, “which is why I get to come out here and talk to you guys, but I did come up with the recipe for it. Is that what you ordered?”

“Yep. Mom ordered a salad and is making me eat part of it.”

“Ah, well, vegetables are important, and I promise that my salads are good salads.”

“I’ll believe it when I taste it.”

Emma snorts and hides her smile behind her drink while Killian looks back at her and moves his brows across his face. She didn’t know he could have this long of a conversation without flirting.

“Do you two want a table?” Killian asks them as he tugs up the sleeve of his shirt, and not for the first time, she notices the red scars that stretch up his left hand and arm. “I know we’re busy in here tonight, but I think I have a little pull to get you a table.”

“Thank you, but I think we’re fine. Right, kid?”

“As long as I get my cheeseburger, I’d sit in the bathroom and be happy.”

Sometimes Emma forgets that Henry is a ten-year-old boy who still finds the occasional fart funny and that he doesn’t have a great sense of hygiene, and then he says something like that to bring her back to earth and reminds herself that her kid is, indeed, a kid.

Killian stays and talks to them for a few minutes before he’s called off to sign some papers and disappears behind a set of double doors that Emma assumes lead to the kitchen. They don’t see or hear from him again that night, though their food gets to them much more quickly than most everyone else at the bar. Henry absolutely devours the cheeseburger, barely taking a bite of any of the vegetables that she puts in front of him, but she doesn’t expect anything less. Her salad is really good, though. She usually hates any salad that she has to eat (the pressure of being on TV and all), but she actually enjoys it tonight.

Even after she asks for the bill, and she’s told by the bartender that their check has already been paid and that they have a to-go box of a blueberry cobbler waiting for them at the front of the restaurant.

Emma is a sucker for any kind of cobbler or pie.

Henry seems to think that this has been the coolest night of his life, and she took him to Disney World in June after years of begging.

When Monday morning rolls around, Emma is as exhausted as ever, and she muddles through her routine of hair and makeup before rolling out onto the set and plastering a smile on her face that matches everyone else’s as they banter back and forth about their weekends. It’s fine, normal as ever, and then Emma is being shuffled over to the kitchen set in between takes where she sees Killian already in his show-provided apron.

Shit.

She forgot about this? How could she? It’s been a part of her routine for eight weeks now.

“Morning, love,” he greets, grin on his face. “Fancy seeing you here.”

She huffs and grabs her apron before tying it around her waist. “We obviously can’t stay away from each other’s places of business. What are we cooking today?”

“Healthy, easy meals that work perfect for leftovers for your kid’s lunch the next day.”

Emma’s heartbeat quickens, and she quickly looks around to see that everyone is distracted watching David and Mary Margaret go over some viral video. “Hey, so don’t mention Henry on air, okay? I never meant for you to meet him, and I don’t…he’s the best part of my life, but I like to keep my home life and work life separate.”

Killian nods and walks a little closer to her so that he sways into her space, his hand lingering close to hers. “I assumed as much, love. I promise you that I won’t mention him, and believe it or not, this was planned before I knew about your boy.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely a liar.”

He shrugs. “A liar who bought your dinner and gave you a complimentary dessert because I heard you were a fan of cobblers and all things in the pie family.”

“You know, just because you buy me dinner doesn’t mean I’m going to start liking you.” Killian winks before waggling those damn brows again, and Emma has to bite back her laugh. “Don’t think I’m taking my eyes off you for a second.”

“I would despair if you did.”

-/-

As the weeks go on and summer officially fades into fall, Emma continues to stick to her routines as all of the new parts of it become a little more normal. She wakes up early, occasionally getting to the gym before work but most of the time right after she finishes, goes to work to spend a few hours talking, and then runs errands before picking up Henry from school and spending her afternoon with him. Sometimes Ruby or Mary Margaret and David come over and on occasion Will takes Henry to the batting cages to practice his batting stance, but other than that, things are all the same.

Well, mostly.

She has gotten better about buying groceries more often (hello grocery delivery even with the delivery prices) and attempting to cook so that they can order less takeout, and Henry complains about her cooking a hell of a lot less.

(She really isn’t that bad.)

The one big change, however, is that every Friday night she and Henry wander a few blocks over to Sweet William to get dinner. It started out as an accident, mostly Emma craving a cheeseburger after going to a Pilates class that absolutely kicked her ass, and the two of them found themselves sitting at the corner of the bar again. That quickly changed as the hostess moved them to a booth that has comfortable seats and enough space to fit a few more people. Emma insisted that the bar is fine, but she was told that the owner insists that the two of them sit there.

(Henry is convinced that having a special table for him is the greatest thing in existence, and who knew that being treated specially at a restaurant would be such a huge thing for Henry?)

It goes like that every Friday night. She and Henry go to Sweet William, sitting at the same booth that is always reserved for them, and the two of them make it a challenge to try as many things on the menu as they can. Killian always comes out and sits with them for a few minutes, smelling of a mixture of foods that he doesn’t usually smell of on The Morning Show set, and he’s as charming as he always is.

Emma doesn’t trust it.

Except for the fact that she kind of does.

This is a coworker who is being kind to her and her son. He’s not doing anything untoward, and he’s not asking her for something. Not at all. Killian is simply being nice, entertaining Henry’s questions about what it’s like to be a professional chef and what it’s like to be on TV. Emma scoffs at that, telling Henry that she is literally on TV far more often than Killian is, but he doesn’t seem to care about any of that.

Professional chef obviously trumps Mom.

They learn that Killian moved to New York from London five years ago to open this restaurant after needing a change of scenery and getting all of the right paperwork and that he stumbled into working on The Morning Show because his restaurant manager saw the opening and applied for him as some kind of joke that ended up working out. In turn, Emma shares the story of meeting David when he came to visit the local news station she was working in and how that he offered her the opportunity to start working for the network. It took a bit of convincing, but she and Henry moved from Maine to Manhattan and had a bit of culture shock.

They love it.

The conversation never really seems to stop flowing, not at Friday night dinners and not during the Monday morning segments that keep on getting better and better as Emma becomes honestly comfortable bantering with Killian as she devours all of the food that he cooks. Ruby teases her about it, making far too many inappropriate jokes involving eating, and it only gets worse when there’s a stack of papers on Emma’s desk with printed off tweets talking about how many people look forward to having Emma and Killian working together.

“They ship you,” Ruby explains as she paints red lipstick onto Emma’s lips the day after a particularly funny Halloween segment where Killian made all of the food look both delicious and disgusting in all of its gory and spooky goodness.

“What in the world does that mean?”

“You have a ten-year-old. How do you not know what that means?”

“I think it’s a relationship thing, and he’s not interested in those, which I’m thankful for.”

“He will be,” Ruby promises, and Emma swears that doesn’t make her sentimental. “And shipping is, like, when you want two people to be together.”

Emma almost jolts forward in the chair, but she’s working particularly hard at not moving. She will not react to that. “That’s just weird.” “Eh, kind of, but also not really. You two are ridiculously hot and also have great chemistry together. I get it. Part your lips for me.”

Emma completely and totally pushes that entire conversation to the back of her mind as she finishes getting ready for work and spends her morning doing a Ninja Warrior course with a five-year-old who is a million times better than her at it. It’s actually ridiculous, and she really shouldn’t have worn tight jeans for this.

Not the best outfit choice. At least she got to wear sneakers and a sports bra. It probably would have been disastrous otherwise.

So things are changing, but even the new routines become actual routines, which is exactly what throws Emma for a loop when Henry asks her if he can spend the night with Avery Friday night. She says yes after checking in with Avery’s mom, and after dropping Henry off with his backpack and a promise to see him at noon tomorrow, Emma goes back to an empty apartment that never seems quite right when Henry isn’t around.

Emma’s all about her alone time, something she doesn’t get a lot of even with Henry getting older, but she’s thrown by not having him with her tonight. What does she do? Treat herself to a spa night? She doesn’t really need one. Her job pretty much keeps her pampered all the time. Maybe she could read a book? Or watch a new TV show? But what TV show? There are so many that she’s behind on, and she wouldn’t even know where to begin.

Food would probably be a good start.

And without really thinking about it, Emma grabs her purse, zips up her boots, and walks out the door of her apartment to find herself at she and Henry’s usual Friday night spot, the little reserved sign with their names waiting for them.

Except she’s by herself.

Until someone is sliding a piña colada in front of her and then sitting across from her in the booth.

“How in the world do you know that I like these?”

Killian grins, one of those dumb ones that reaches his eyes and makes them crinkle. “Your boy told me that you love them but that you have some ridiculous hang up about ordering them.”

“They’re not on your menu.”

“I know a guy.” Killian nods his head toward her. “Where is the lad tonight?”

Emma hums and takes a sip of her drink. It’s freaking fantastic, and she’s got to thank Henry for spilling her secrets to Killian. Or, at least, that one secret. “He is spending the night with a friend, so he abandoned me to eat by myself.”

“Kids, they betray us all.”

“You’ve been betrayed by a kid?”

“No. I find myself to be too charming.”

She snorts, not really meaning to. “Don’t get too full of yourself, Jones. One day you’ll probably have children, and they will betray you.”

He reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “Eh, I don’t know about that.”

“What? You don’t want kids?”

Wow, Emma. Just go for the personal, why don’t you?

“Don’t answer that,” she blurts out. “That’s too personal of a question, and I should have never asked it.”

Killian reaches over and places his hand over hers on the table, warmth spreading up over her arm. “It’s fine, Swan. I don’t find you intrusive. I think I’d like kids someday, but I’m thirty-four now, not seeing anyone I see a future with, and my relationship history isn’t the best.”

“I can understand that.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m a twenty-eight-year-old single mother to a ten-year-old. Do the math.”

Killian smiles and reaches up to adjust the collar of his shirt so that she can see a flash of dark chest hair and the slightest bit of ink. “Aye, I know. I didn’t want to presume. Is Henry’s dad – ”

“He doesn’t know that he exists,” Emma blurts out before downing far too much of her drink. This is too sweet for large gulps like that but really damn good. “I never got the chance to tell him. I was seventeen with no resources except for a slightly sympathetic foster mom and a part-time job as a video editor at a local news station, and Neal just disappeared into thin air one night.”

“What a bastard.”

“You’re telling me,” Emma scoffs. “It’s why I asked you not to say anything about Henry. I’m not ashamed of him. He’s the best thing to ever happen to me. I just…”

“You don’t want Neal to try to come back now that you’ve made a bit of a name out of yourself,” Killian finishes for her, and for the first time in all of the times that she’s told this story, someone understands. “I left London because my brother died in a Naval accident, and my long-term girlfriend left me because my grief was too much for her. She tried to contact me for the same reason the other day. On some level, I understand you even if I know having a child makes things more complicated.”

Emma’s heart absolutely pangs. Sharing tragic backstories and the scars on her heart is not her thing, but something about this man makes the words nearly flow out of her without hesitation. It’s not something she’s used to, not in the slightest.

“What was his name?”

“Liam. He, well, he’d call me a bloody idiot for naming this place after him and after the flower. It was my mum’s favorite, most likely why she named Liam what she did even if we never called him William. I thought it was a great way to honor them both, especially since they’re the people who taught me how to cook.”

“It was.”

Killian tightly smiles before lifting up his hand to wave a server down. “Though, I had a miserable experience with a dish gone wrong that nearly burned down my kitchen and took off my entire arm, so I’m not sure how great of teachers they actually were.”

“You have a restaurant that’s always packed, so I’d say they did a pretty good job.”

He leans forward as a server gets closer to them, and heat does not curl in Emma’s stomach when Killian winks. Not at all. “Or maybe I’m simply that naturally gifted, darling.” She opens her mouth to say something, but then Killian is turning away. “Wendy, can you tell everyone in the back that I’ll be dining out here tonight? Miss Swan is just about to help me come up with our seasonal menu since she has a real thumb on what the public wants.”

“Yes, sir, I can do that.”

Emma arches her brow. “Just invite yourself to my dinner, why don’t you?”

“Would it make it up to you if I pay?”

“You always pay. Every employee in this place refuses to take anything other than a tip from both me and Henry.”

“Huh, wonder why that is.”

They spend the next few hours picking apart the menu, arguing back and forth over food and drink preferences and the pros and cons of classics and specialties, and Emma has never laughed so hard over food. In fact, she’s never laughed so hard in her entire life. She’s spent so much time with this man but usually in short spurts, so she’s never actually gotten to see what he’s like or learn too much about him. He’s still quick to make an innuendo and slow to accept changes or any kind of criticism to the menu, but by the time the restaurant is closed and all of the tables are cleared, they’ve figured something out.

And had a few too many drinks that have her laughing even more.

They also have her accepting Killian’s offer to sleep in his guest bedroom in his apartment upstairs. She should say no, should not at all be accepting an offer like that when she has a perfectly good place ten minutes away, but she’s tired and the thought of getting to bed soon feels too good to pass up.

Her routine changes just a little bit more, and she embraces it for once in her life.

The alcohol makes it be a little less terrifying.

-/-

Killian does an entire segment on pies on the show Monday morning.

He says that it’s for Thanksgiving, but she knows that it’s for her.

He also adds more to the menu at Sweet William.

-/-

After that night, Henry starts inviting Killian over to the apartment for cooking lessons, claiming that both he and Emma could learn to be a little better so that they could eat more than one good meal a week, but Emma knows that there’s some kind of ulterior motive in Henry. There’s a sparkle in those brown eyes of his, and even though he claims that he wants to cook (as much as a ten-year-old can), he always seems to find himself in the living room so that Emma is left with just Killian.

Sneaky kid.

Who gets even sneakier when he invites Killian to Thanksgiving dinner with them. Emma was going to do it. She honestly was, but Henry beat her to it. And that’s exactly how Emma shows up at David and Mary Margaret’s house on Thanksgiving with Henry, Killian Jones, and three pies.

Every single person there is thoroughly intrigued and confused.

Emma is too.

She doesn’t bring men to holidays. She doesn’t bring men around at all. And she especially doesn’t bring men around who sit with their arm around her shoulder or who press their hand lightly into the small of Emma’s back as they stand in the kitchen and debate the different types of dressings to go with turkey.

Except that’s exactly what is happening here, and it sends a little thrill down Emma’s spine that she can’t quite place.

(She can, but it’s almost too terrifying to do that.)

Killian knows most everyone from his mornings on the show, so Emma doesn’t spend her time trying to ease him into things. He does that completely on his own and charms everyone the way that he always does even if she sees him scratch behind his ear, which is undeniably his nervous tick. And hopefully, just hopefully, no one is asking him a million questions like she’s getting asked about whether or not the two of them are dating and does he know that a weird section of the internet ships them?

They’re not, and he does. They laugh about it over wine and Emma’s really gross lasagna on the nights Killian has off from the restaurant.

The day passes in a blur of football and too much food, and before Emma can even blink, the three of them are packing up leftovers and getting an Uber back to Emma’s apartment. Henry crashes as soon as they get there, mumbling something about being too exhausted to take off his shoes, and then he disappears into his room while Killian puts the Tupperware containers into the fridge.

“You don’t have to do that,” she tells him before adjusting her shirt from where it wrinkled. “I can do it.”

“It’s fine, love,” he insists and he puts the leftover apple pie away next to the one he made for her to stay here. “Should we get some coffee and watch a movie? Are you one of those who is ready to celebrate Christmas already?”

“The turkey has been eaten, Jones. It’s time for Christmas. If I didn’t feel like I was dying from overeating and having to talk to people all day, we’d be out getting a Christmas tree right now.”

“Would I be the one carrying it?”

“You know it.”

“It would be my pleasure. I think the pine would mask the smell of kitchen on me.”

Emma turns the coffee maker on, and while it percolates, she starts straightening up the kitchen, putting away dishes in the dishwasher and wiping down countertops, but since they cooked (they being mostly Killian) in the kitchen of Killian’s restaurant, there’s not much to clean up. It’s what has her looking at Killian as he stares down at his phone, fingers typing away a message before the screen goes black and he’s placing it in his back pocket and looking at Emma with the softest smile that she’s ever seen.

And maybe it’s the wine or maybe it’s that she’s feeling good…hell, maybe it’s because Emma wants to do something for herself for a change. Maybe it’s that her reasons don’t matter. All she knows is that she’s stepping forward and pressing her palms to Killian’s cheeks and kissing him.

She’s kissing him.

He doesn’t kiss back, not at first. There’s a bit of a grunt, one that doesn’t necessarily sound pleasant, but then his hands are pressing against her back and his lips are moving over hers while he backs them across the kitchen until the sharp edge of her counter is hitting her back. His kiss is warm and tastes of apple and cinnamon and quite possibly a bit of the rum he had right before they left. Emma groans when his teeth nibble down onto her and his hand snakes up underneath her shirt so that she can feel the heat of his palm.

Everything about him is warm and inviting, and as his tongue runs over the seam of her lips and she parts her mouth for him, Emma realizes that it’s been like that the entire time, even when she was upset with him simply for replacing Chef Rudianni and daring to be something different.

Emma almost likes different now.

No, she does. When it’s the right kind of different and a change that she’s okay making.

Killian pulls back, and Emma realizes that they’re both panting, foreheads pressed together and noses squishing into each other’s cheeks. Emma nearly giggles at the thought of her having beard burn.

She’s the height of maturity. She also doesn’t care. It’s been a long time since she’s felt like this.

“That was,” Killian breathes out.

“Definitely happening again,” she smiles before kissing him again.

Little by little they manage to make it out of the kitchen and back to Emma’s bedroom, both of them careful not to make any noise so as not to wake Henry, and once the door is locked behind them, clothes are shed and Killian’s lips run across her body, whispering words that sound sweeter than anything else, until he’s driving her into madness in a way that she hasn’t felt in years.

Maybe not ever.

The good changes keep on coming.

(So does Emma.)

-/-

Henry barely bats an eye when Killian is there to make them breakfast in the morning even though Emma is more than sure to make sure everything stays appropriate for him. She’s not really sure how to navigate dating around Henry, and when she asks him if he’s okay with she and Killian being together, he tells her that he wants her to be happy.

He also says that he wants to keep getting free cheeseburgers.

-/-

A year later, Killian names the cheeseburger at his restaurant after Henry.

The piña colada is named after Emma.

-/-

Every Monday morning and every Friday night turns into every day, and Emma is more than okay with that change.

[deathsmallcaps]

A talk about Haru

I know a bit about cattle (I live next door to a farm), and the lovely Kayla and Ellen’s @staytogetherpodcast often talks about how the characters resemble their animals in personality and such. So I just thought of some stuff that might interest them and other Fruits Basket fans. This is a bit spoilery (and maybe a little biased) so watch out.

The animal spirit is called an ox. An ox is a male who had finished growing and puberty before being neutered. (A steer is different - it’s done slightly before or during puberty, and they are more even tempered for males. Some people do use the terms interchangeably). That means yes, they do get a little more agreeable, and easier to manage, but they also were pumped full of testosterone once upon a time. So they are actually a bit more stronger (which is why they are used for plowing, etc.), harder to handle, and darker in color.

Darker because testosterone makes their fur turn dark brown/black in most if not all types of cows. Cows can be black but males are darker in breeds that aren’t always completely black. Haru turns into a Holstein (the basic black and white type), so it isn’t as apparent.

The darker the bull is, the more virile and attractive. Which may explain Dark Haru’s more open sexuality.

So I think it’s interesting that his more basic personality, Light Haru, acts more like his animal spirit than Dark Haru does. Light’s more gentle,etc. Was Dark originally developed as his more human side, and then maybe Takaya refitted it into the story in a different way? Idk.

Cattle can be extremely dangerous. The only animal more involved in human death (in America. Mosquitoes are even bigger problems in places with malaria) is the deer. True, we as a country interact with deer and cows more than, say, an anteater, but it doesn’t change the fact that cows are dangerous animals.

The mothers are fiercely protective. I think they beat bears in that sense (though bears can kill cows irl). Depending on the type of farm you live on (factory vs homestead etc) a cow may attack you if you even touch her baby. Assuming she gets to keep the calf, of course. (Dairy farms often take the baby away as soon as it is born so they can milk the mother and make sure there is no bond. This leads to socialization issues for the calves).

Bulls are more easily provoked, due to their testosterone running their brains. But in my inexpert opinion, you’d have better luck with some bulls than a lot of mom cows.

Cattle have hard heads that weigh at the very least fifty pounds. They also have horns. You can get impales and whacked out of the way at the same time. The average small cow weighs more than 500 pounds. They can easily crush your bones. The round bellies are more from their four stomachs than obesity, though they do have a good layer of fat. Possibly worst of all, they can kick their back legs in almost any direction. Horses pretty much just go straight back, but a cow can kick you sideways. And while they only have one row of teeth in the front, their back munchers could bite your fingers off.

So Haru should probably be broader, but his height makes sense. I do think he’s taller and less skinny than the other characters. I realize it was Takaya’s Art style, and all of the male characters eventually become long bois and do fill out near the end.

He is also really good at fighting so there’s that.

Cattle give off a lot of heat - even when they aren’t all fuzzy and long haired like those highland cattle, they are often (not all breeds) comfortable in 40F (five-ish Celsius) and often stand outside in the snow. That doesn’t mean you should leave them in the elements, of course, but they’re tough animals.

Which kind of makes me laugh because Haru is always wearing a jacket and he should be over-heating.

Cattle drink a shit ton of water. One gulp is probably about 2-3 liters. Haru should be chugging all day.

Cattle are like the opposite of horses, with wide barrel bellies, narrow-ish shoulders and hips and butt that slants like a roof in New England. They are hard to ride bareback. They must’ve put a lot of effort in keeping Yuki on top of Haru lol.

Cattle are also very curious, intelligent, mischievous and playful. Even the mamas, when they are heavily pregnant, will still kick around some. Anything they can lift with their horns/head? It goes flying. The steer next door likes to drink half his water (his tub holds about a hundred gallons so it’s huge) and then flip it over to dump out the rest, just so he can knock it around his field. Then he complains very loudly about dying of thirst. he understands consequences, just doesn’t care about them.

His mother was very tricky. But that’s another story.

The steer (his name is Moo, used to be little moo when he was a calf) has horns, and likes to go around to plant life (mostly weeds, because that’s what his owners allow him to play with) and just rip that shit up. He swings his big head around when he gets excited, and when he’s very excited/surprised he bucks around in a circle, just like his mother did. he likes to sneak up to windows when its dark outside and press his nose against it, so when you look out the previously unoccupied space to see a large face smearing itself against the window (cow noses are often wet because they lick themselves and eat their own boogers) at 11:00 at night. just to see you scream and act all surprised about it.

(some friendly cows like to pretend to be scared)

When a cow encounters something new that isnt easily identified a s a threat, they circle it and snuff it and its very cute.

So Haru trying to get a rise out of people just for kicks is very true to cow behavior and I love it.

Cattle are also extremely loving and bond easily. When Moo was born, the only other cow he’d ever seen was his mother, and he was surrounded by miniature goats. So for the first year and a half of his life (he’s 2.5 now) he genuinely thought he was a goat and tried to play with them, even acting like he didn’t enjoy the rain to fit in. Unfortunately for Moo, goats are extremely family based and exclusive of other beings who aren’t related to them/bring them food, so he wasn’t accepted by the goats. (Female Goats are basically a clique - if you try to introduce a doe they don’t know, that doe is shunned most of the time [and often the loners do not band together] but they try to stay with the herd.)

This may be why Haru is so protective of others, like Yuki and Rin, etc.

Unless you anger a cow, they will probably not hurt you on purpose. Cruelty is really only a human/maybe cat thing and sometimes, your foot was just in the way and they didn’t see it. A lot of them don understand how truly large they are. 

Cattle have rough tongues like cats and use them to groom themselves and each other. Moo loves almost everyone he meets, and gives them hugs with his neck (if you stand at his shoulder he’ll curl his neck around you, which is great because then you an hug him back) and stinky, slobbery tongue baths. 

When a cow is grooming you, their already large, round eyes get really wide and they look very sweet and blissed out.

I bet Haru likes to groom people.

Anyways, thanks for reading! I think a good amount of this kind of explains Haru, Also, if for some reason you read this without ever hearing of the Stay Together Podcast, you should check it out! It’s funny and well-thought-out and you can really tell that the hosts are re-enjoying the story. 

If you have any questions about cows, goats, chickens or horses (though I am the least knowledgable about those) let me know!

[cielizzydefencesquad]

Also! For what Sebastian might do next: since his master is in an almost catatonic state, and might have to take charge, he might also have to for once in his god damn life be an actual caretaker. Otherwise it’ll be Germany all over again, with him abandoning revenge and being stuck mentally. Even with the goal of keeping him focused, he’ll have to deal with Ciel’s emotions more than just heating milk and watching over him at night. Along with his own emotions. 😂 almost like a single mum. lol.

Petition for single mum Sebastian 2k19 

Honestly, these two NEED to converse because right now OC is emotionally paralyzed and Sebastian is just like “wait wtf, this isn’t in my programming - do I make a witty remark, do I kill someone, is it too late to go back to Hell and update the goddamn contract - “ 

I would literally forgive Yana for anything if these next few chapters consisted of mum!Sebastian drawing up blueprints with OurCiel, who adds a comment here and there but is still so emotionally distraught that Sebastian (who at this point is operating blind) decides to mock OC but it comes out all wrong because 

“My lord, I do believe a bit more direction is needed in this. As…delighted as I am that you have chosen to place such an enormous amount of trust in my capabilities - “ 

“What capabilities? All you’ve done is etch two words on paper.” The brat sneered coldly, staring out the heavy crystalline window at the bleak midwinter with its unyielding fog and charcoal sky. 

The grey misery of their situation was further heightened by the pallid atmosphere of the Myerscough, a distant country manse that the earl had managed to wrangle the honorable Viscount Myerscough into renting following their midnight flight from Phantomhive Manor. 

Sebastian’s brow twitched. “With those words may I presume you are still in control of all your faculties?” 

“What an insolent question.” 

“Your voice lacks conviction, my lord.” 

“Does it?” He turned, face haggard and looking far older than his thirteen years of age. Sebastian wouldn’t have been surprised to see streaks of grey in his slate-blue hair. 

The earl’s expression hardened. “Get out.” He commanded, turning back to the faint drizzle of rain. “We’ve accomplished nothing tonight.” 

“Perhaps,” Sebastian agreed, mockery on the tip of his tongue. “But you have certainly done better than most.” 

The words left his lips before he could think to correct himself. 

The child’s shoulders - so frail and thin in his cobalt waistcoat - tensed. “Have you gone soft on me, demon?”

“A simple comparison, my lord.” There was strange hesitance to the demon’s voice, something out of place in the cool perfection that was his butler’s veil. “I find these events to be done in very poor taste.” He did not mention the firstborn twin or the Undertaker but such nouns were unnecessary. “There is something…pagan in the air. And I do not care for it.”

“You care for no one and nothing, demon.” 

“I find there can be an exception to every occasion, my lord.” 

A wry look came onto his master’s face. “The Undertaker has upended all you know and for that, you seek vengeance of your own.”

“I shall exact vengeance only when you wish it,” Sebastian mused, carnelian eyes gazing at some unfixed distance. “But there is a brilliance to this game of ours. It is a strange world you live in - such accord and civility, such change and hypocrisy. There are those figures I’ve come across that radiate the unspoken.” Ruby eyes flickered towards the earl. “And you are chief amongst them.” 

He gave a slight bow and caught, for a fraction of a second, the earl’s weary expression. 

“Perhaps in the morning these words here,” he gestured towards the blueprints, “will hold more weight.”

“I’m not tired.” The earl returned to his desk, fountain pen in hand.

And for a strange, inexplicable second, Sebastian could hear the sincere but firm voice of Agni echoing in his mind. If he didn’t know any better, he could have fooled himself into smelling saffron and cinnamon but -

He blinked and saw nothing but the grey-cream walls of Myerscough Hall, of falling rain and heavy draped furniture. Of his lord and master looking so impossibly frail that he practically radiated exhaustion. Smears of bruised violet under his eyes, the tense set of his shoulders, how his mouth grew more brittle and fearful by the hour. 

“There have been those who’ve conquered nations and still found time to rest.” He spoke impulsively - strangely - as he stared the boy down. “And there have been men who’ve only dreamt of glory but fell on a stray sword. Would you like to know why?” 

“I don’t wish to hear your analysis on the dichotomy of power versus inferiority - “

“The man fell because he had not slept in 72 hours and mistook the sword for his own bed.” Sebastian spoke matter-of-factly. He spoke curtly. He spoke reasonably. 

And he had no idea why, twenty seconds later, his master was suppressing laughter with one hand all the while looking like a deranged loon.

Oh for the ninth bloody circle of hell, Sebastian blinked. Had he somehow broken the child? 

When the seconds of madness had passed, Sebastian was still standing there with a rather bewildered look on his face. 

The earl straightened in his chair and offered him a wry smile. “How quaint.” He mused.

“What is?”

“This.” He said simply. “We are at a crossroads.” 

“More of an impasse.” Sebastian corrected. “A moment of pause.” He glanced at the boy-earl for a moment. “The marchioness once said the best time to strike was when your adversary was in the midst of an attack.” Sebastian paused. “Perhaps she might have a few more insights to offer.” 

“Are you suggesting we visit my Aunt Frances? Bring a reanimated corpse and a deranged madman to her doorstep? Midford Castle is the first place Undertaker would think to look if - “

“My lord, I do believe the marchioness is more than adequately equipped to reprimand those of such slovenly dress, such as the Undertaker.” A faint half-smile appeared on his lips. “And in any case, I should not desire that any harm come upon those of such unique character.” 

The earl gave him a strange look. “Aunt Frances despises you.” 

Yes, he mused, she does. While all the world simpers, she is the only one to stand firm. 

Much like yourself, Sebastian observed. 

How strange it was to think that the smile on his mouth was beginning to grow sincere. 

(I mean, idk I just want them to talk in earnest and figure some shit out. Be like Kylie Jenner, Sebastian. Follow her words of wisdom. Realize stuff. Realize things. Just realize something you bumpkin-headed ninny-mouthed twit.) 

- mod Nina

[polss]

Political Swizzlestick: The ethical problem the Bloomberg candidacy presents for Dems.

I wanted to blow off the prospect of Micheal Bloomberg being the democratic nominee when he announced his candidacy. “Feh!” I arrogantly scoffed, “You think America’s going to rush to vote for another New Yorker?! Ha!  Typical New York Media overrating their local candidate’s chances.  You still have to connect with the rust belt voter.”

But time has smacked sense into me.

Bloomberg was at 19% nationally with Dems, sight unseen.

Nobody outside of New York knew a damn thing about him, but 19% of America had seen enough commercials to say, “That guy I’ve never seen before....he’s my guy!”

That is crazy.

But that’s kind of where we are in America.  Do the majority of Trump Supporters know all of the things he has done?  Can they tell you his position on any number of issues?  No... But they know he drives Democrats crazy. The moderate segment of their support had been somewhat underwhelmed by the Obama-Biden management of the economy, so if it drives Dems crazy, he must be taking the country in the right direction that businesses want to go...right?

“He’s a businessman and the unemployment rate is at record lows.”  is what they’d say if pressed. We have always measured the health of the economy by the unemployment rate so we have to do so now.

They are just as ignorant to the vast majority of their guy’s views as we are of our candidates.

In a world where no one cares about details, why couldn’t Bloomberg win?

If the race is two shady New York businessmen against each other and one is worth maybe a billion by now and the other is worth $64 Billion, is Donald trump going to be able to lord his economic knowledge over Bloomberg?  No. Bloomberg will treat him like a peon.  If Bloomberg says, “You aren’t a businessman, you are a con man. I am surprised you haven’t throttled the economy yet.  Step aside an let someone who actually understands how to succeed in business run this country.” it resonates with moderates everywhere.

You could legitimately see Trump supporters jump ship.  Every trump fan I know likes Bloomberg and thinks “that’s the guy the Dems should run.”  He fits their idea of what they want as a president.  Is it difficult to see 1-4% of them jumping ship to escape the Trump sideshow? Not at all.

Donald  trump lost more money than any other American over a 20 year period.  Bloomberg is without a doubt a successful businessman.  Donald Trump looks very much like a failure in business compared to him over a 3 month or so lead up to the election.

I am late to the game. A lot of people on the Democratic side have pointed at this very thing and proclaimed Bloomberg the Dems best hope.  I am inclined to agree now after looking at the financial picture and how easily voters can be swayed by a simple advertising campaign.

Bloomberg takes away all of trump’s best arguments. Business expertise?  Not even close.

Trump uses his lack of morality to dig at the political correctness that Dems foolishly cling too.  There is every reason to believe that Bloomberg is so rich that morality largely no longer applies to him.  Any mistake or lack in judgement can be erased with a check.  Donald Trump is not going to be able to use his lack of morality as a weapon against Bloomberg. And frankly since Dems would have voted for this guy, that is a tacit acknowledgement that morality doesn’t matter to the Dems either.

Want to smear Bloomberg with an ad campaign?  Bloomberg can run 10 commercials with Trump’s voice talking about grabbing women by the pussy and showing all the women who tried to sue Trump in the 2016 election for every one trump can run.  Literally every 15 minutes you could hear Donald trump talking on TV about grabbing women by the pussy. You think that wouldn’t have a cumulative effect?

Really all you have to do is move 1-2% from the trump column to the anti-trump column in say 6 states and that is the election.

“But the Bernie Bros will revolt!”  What if Bloomberg make Bernie VP?  Does Bloomberg care who is his VP? At all? Bernie is an old warhorse who has been selling his rhetoric to no one in particular for 40+ years. You think he would turn down being a heartbeat from the presidency?  Bloomberg is an old dude too. If Bernie has a legitimate seat with power like the VP job, you won’t lose any Bernie fans.  They have seen Bernie get screwed out entirely by the DNC.  This would be an acceptable loss for them.  “We may have lost the battle, but we won the war”.

Bernie Bros aren’t running against Trump....not yet anyway.... they are running against the DNC.

Bloomberg is worth $64 Billion.  He spent $200 Million LAST MONTH. That is 1/320th of his wealth. That spending is almost double what Bernie (the Democratic front runner) has had in his entire account this election.

Let’s say you were fairly well to do and between 40 and 80.  How much of your money would you be willing to spend to cross “get elected president” off your bucket list? How much would you spend if you were in your late 70′s?   30% of your wealth? 40% of your wealth? More?

If Bloomberg spent 30% of his wealth that would be $19.2 Billion dollars.

Hillary spent $585 Million in 2016. Donald Trump spent $350M and has roughly $240 Million donated so far for 2020.

Let’s say Trump end up with $600M.  Bloomberg would in his $19.2 Billion have 32 times the amount of money.

So lets say Donald Trump runs a TV ad of Bloomberg not wanting to release former employees from non-disclosure agreements. Bloomberg could run 32 TV ads with the clip of Donald trump weirdly fondling his daughter as she sits on his lap and Trump talking about how if he wasn’t her dad he’d be all over that.

Think we couldn’t get there?

Don’t count on it.

If you watched the last debate you saw the democrat’s Donald Trump on stage.  A win at all cost guy.

Now I have long bemoaned that the democratic party is run by a lot of folks who proudly display their participation ribbons.

The GOP tells the Dems, “You can’t do that!  It is a betrayal of our country!” then the next time there is a GOP president he does exactly that and the Dems say, “Gorsh, you got us again, lol!”

It drives me nuts and is even worse by the fact that the GOP has a guy in Trump who could give a shit about any of the social norms and is playing a win at all costs game, damn the constitution!

But do we truly want to run a “win at all cost” guy? Are we willing to turn a blind eye to the obvious disdain Bloomberg has for the common man’s opinion to get trump out?

Are Dems and left leaning voters willing to embrace a guy who doesn’t even want to say how many non-disclosure agreements he has had to payoff to buy ex-employee’s silence?  And let me assure you, if they were all off color jokes as he claimed, Bloomberg would have just released them all and taken the momentary polling hit. You could argue that a business has non-disclosure agreements to protect business information but Bloomberg himself admitted his non-disclosure agreements were to protect his bad behavior. 

For him to insist no one would be released suggests there is what would be a career ending story for someone whose budget for this election wasn’t potentially larger than the combined budgets of the last 30 presidential elections.

This guy is so out of touch he doesn’t even understand what people want him to apologize for about his policy of targeting the African American community in New York City for shake downs of their kids.

If you watched the debate you saw a guy who was not all that dissimilar to trump who wants to be president. That is clearly goal 1. I think there is a lot of evidence that unlike trump, Bloomberg isn’t running to profit off the presidency and legitimately wants to do right by America. I think he legitimately does want to put an end to all of the Trump nonsense, but he still seems like a guy we would deem morally unfit in any election prior to the slimeball derby of 2016.

I am not advocate for purity tests, but this isn’t a purity test.  If we were looking for angels we wouldn’t have let him in the door.  Frankly we wouldn't have let any of these people in. Which is why I'm glad that we don't have purity tests. 

My question is are we truly at a point where we can accept running a lesser demon against another lesser demon just because we think he would likely be favored to win and willing to do whatever it took to win?

Are we willing to elect a guy who we really have no idea what he is going to do in office just to get rid of Trump?  He could easily be just as disdainful of the constitution.....We don’t know and the early returns are we don’t care.

Are we willing to turn a total blind eye and be just as hypocritical as the Republican voters we have vilified for the last 3 years?

Are we willing to potentially forever destroy any argument by either side that ethics matter in a president? Are we willing to say that no American voters at all care about fair play and moral behavior?

Or are we willing to stand on principles and risk defeat with a more morally acceptable candidate like Bernie, Tom, Elizabeth, or Joe who might be at best 50/50 propositions against Trump?

I'll make it personal.  Am I willing to betray all the women out there who have ever been shit on by, feilded unwelcome propositions from , or been ridiculed by their bosses at work for better odds that we'll get Trump out of office?  I am half Jamaican.  Am I willing to betray solidarity with the greater african American community which finds this man unacceptable, for better odds?

Am I willing to sell my soul for 4 years for better odds?  Am I willing to look in the mirror and loathe the face looking back for 4 years just for better odds?

Melania says "Be Better". I want to be but after 3 years of this shit, the apple that snake is holding looks so...so... good.

I don’t have the answer.  All I’ve got are the questions.

[dorianpavus]

boy........... therapy rehash / emotional mess beneath the cut

so before i go to therapy i usually take 10 minutes to just like.... introspect, think about my week, think about the themes, think about what i need to talk about, that sort of stuff

and today i was like, ok there’s a couple things i’d like to mention, but it’s been a pretty ok week and i’m not sure what we’re gonna end up talking about. and then i realized that yesterday (when i had worked/run errands/gone to get dinner + drinks with a friend/played ffxiv with my 2 brothers) felt like...... the first Full day i’d had in a long, long, long time.

and that made me start crying in the car while i was driving there, but i wiped away my tears and didn’t get the chance to think much more on it.

and then........ boy.... just. i’m just like. still emotionally reeling.

so at therapy i talked about work for a while, and my shoulder, and then i started talking about this past week in general, and how i’ve been really proud of myself. i Big Girl Cleaned my room, and it feels breatheable now. i’ve hung out with friends twice in 7 days!!! i stopped drinking soda except when i’m out 2 eat, and i’ve cut back on espresso, and i started drinking a lot more water and forcing myself to prioritize myself and prioritize SLEEP (even when i don’t want to) and ....

i’ve been starting to feel like i have a lot more energy, and that’s making my mood increase dramatically. and all those are things i was aware of and they’ve been really encouraging for me.

but then i started talking about my day yesterday. and when i went to tell her that it felt like a full day, i just started crying. and i had no idea why. and i was like “ahh i’m sorry i have no idea why i’m doing this!!!” 

and she was like, no, this is good. whenever clients of mine start crying when they don’t expect to, when they’re talking about something that seems innocuous, i like to sit in that moment, feel it, and think about why that’s coming up.

so we did, and.......... boy. just. what a session lol

i said how good it felt to spend time with my friends and brothers. but not just that, but that... i’ve felt like i’ve been stronger the past two weeks than i have been all year. (oh my god i’m ltierally crying again wt f god)

and that it felt like... i had been offered choices. and i kept getting scared, or tired, and choosing the easy choice. do i want to drive and go hang out with my friends or stay in? do i want to go for a walk or stay in? do i want to do literally anything or continue to do nothing at all?

and i kept not having the energy or strength to make other choices. but the past few weeks, i feel like i have. i feel like, not that it’s been “easy” to make myself do everything, but i’ve done it. and they’ve felt like choices, and i’ve made the right ones finally. and i said, “i feel like i’ve been braver.” 

and she looked at me and was like, you know what? i feel like you have too. and she listed a bunch of stories that i’d told her the past few weeks, and brought up so many instances of my being brave and standing up for myself or others and having hard conversations with my parents and my boss and like... it really sunk in, and i felt brave

and i told her that... well. soooooo i haven’t even talked about it on here (which is funny cause that one ask meme thing was like “tell us a secret” and i didn’t even think to say this, because i have mentioned it before but that was a loooooooong time ago and most ppl i think figured it was uh... resolved....)

but i didn’t technically graduate. well, not technically. i didn’t graduate. i walked in the ceremony, but i had an incomplete from one of my classes, because i couldn’t write my final paper. every time i tried to, i panicked and i felt like dying, and that scared me so i stopped thinking about it. and time passed. and more time passed. and now it’s been a year. 

and it’s a secret that’s been weighing so heavily on me it’s felt like it’s suffocating me. if my parents found out i think they’d kick me out. just thinking about the paper makes my brain go, “uh better kys cause that’s Too Much.” and i hate feeling like that. but i hate that i haven’t graduated too, because it means i can’t apply for jobs because i don’t have a fucking degree!!!!! which is why i’m stuck at home, which only makes me worse!!!! for ONE FUCKING TERM PAPER!!!!

and i kept making progress, like i went from avoiding thinking about it completely since i was a fucking mess to starting to think about it more (which caused my anxiety to skyrocket but was an important step in Dealing With Shit), and every time i thought i was gonna get close to doing something about it (emailing my professor to see if he’ll still accept it, for one) i would get scared. it was like one step forward, two steps back.

like i’d come so close to emailing my professor a few weeks ago... only i didn’t. and my therapist was like, ok, i want you to take time and really think about what it is that you’re so afraid of. what stopped you from emailing him?

and it used to be that the physical act of writing the paper was what scared me. like words wouldn’t come to me. like i was afraid of letting him down/the paper not being good enough/etc. but with time it’s morphed into.... something else, i realized. and it occurred to me that i’m partially afraid of emailing him not only because i’m afraid to write the paper, but more so because i’m terrified of what comes next.

if i graduate.... i’ll have to look for a Serious Job. and maybe i’ll have to move. and maybe it will be horrible. and the whole idea of moving forward into some new vast stage of unknown in my life terrifies me. because what i want to do, what i’ve always wanted to do, was go au pair in france and then teach english there, if i could. that was the Dream Job, and it had been attainable until i had way more student loans than i’d expected and i couldn’t afford it. so now i need to find a decent paying job for a year or two so i can save up and hopefully do what i want.

and it’s that “decent paying job” that scares me. instead of thinking i’m not good enough for my professor now, it feels like i’m not good enough for a Real Job. i have no idea what to expect, i don’t think i’m qualified for literally anything, i just... i feel.......... worthless. and un-hireable. and like whatever path i choose to go down, i’ll be terrible at what i do and... what if it makes me miserable??? (that, as my therapist would say, is Catastrophizing i know i know but it’s something i worry about).

but that felt like a breakthrough. i hadn’t realized i was so afraid of it. i hadn’t realized that what i want more than anything is to be independent and move out and get a better job, but i’m so fucking TERRIFIED of getting a new job. one where i maybe won’t be the smartest kid in the room. one where my bosses don’t sing my praises all day long. that’s so stupid, so stupid, but i’m really scared of it. i feel like i’m inevitably gonna fail because it feels like everyone thinks i’m smarter or more talented than i actually am. i don’t know anything about anything like!!!!!

anyway, that was a big deal. but also..... i feel like... stronger, now. and braver than i’ve been in a really long time. some of my friends knew last year that i’d had an incomplete, but they all thought i had “resolved” that issue. but i told two of them this week that i still hadn’t graduated, and that was humiliating but.... good. and i didn’t think too much of it until my therapist was like “omg!!!!! katie!!!!!! that’s huge!!!!! you’ve been carrying around this secret so heavily i’m so proud of you!!!” and that just made me realize how right she was and i just cried harder. i had been carrying it, and it is a big deal.

and i think i’m going to email my professor tomorrow. not tonight. i’m giving myself tonight to be scared, but i’m setting a time tomorrow to send that email. and take that step forward. and that’s a even bigger deal for me. like, earth-shattering changes-everything kind of big deal.

(i’m like full sobbing now lol)

anyway i was like crying nonstop in therapy today as we talked about things. and how proud she was of me for being so brave, and how happy i was with myself, and how awake i felt, and i was realizing so much about myself and having these Grand Epiphanies 

and i’ve made my therapist tear up before because she genuinely cares which is part of what i love about her, but like, she full-on cried a little with me today and she was like “omg i never cry with clients ahhh” and it was very cute i feel like she is basically me but a therapist lol but it just made me cry more because i was so touched 

and she laughed a little and was like, “this feels like a video game! you know cause we always talk about them. it feels like you’re the heroine of a video game and you’re finally starting to be in the moment”

and god idk that made me cry even more

and like.. it was good crying. it was happy crying. it was crying that was coming from somewhere i didn’t know wanted or needed to cry. it felt like my soul had just been cleansed, like it had showered and washed away grime. like i was an egg that had been cracked open and could breathe

and i feel so light, and clean, and hopeful, and proud, and it’s just a really big deal right now i guess. (still crying)

i feel like i’m on the edge of something. and i wanna take that leap, not into darkness and depression but into... light. that’s what it feels like. and it feels really, really good.

anyway uhhh i’m a mess right now. in a good way. i gots ta go eat dinner and then i think i’m gonna go walk in the park. i used to love the park but i haven’t been in a while, and i’m really feeling a good ole lay down in the grass and listening to music and just let myself cry and feel good.

(also, i had to stop by the tailor right after my therapy appointment to do my second fitting for my bridesmaid alterations and LOL my makeup was super smeared and my eyes were glossy red and my face was all blotchy i could tell the tailor was concerned but she didn’t say anything it was very awkward lol anyway)

i don’t know how to punctuate this post lol. i guess i just wanna say.. 

i feel good today. and that feels really, really, really good.

[itsclydebitches]

Preacher Summer Secret Santa Gift: A Three Flower Bouquet

Title: A Three Flower Bouquet 

Summary: Jesse's said before that their lives resemble the start of a bad joke: an ex-preacher, a rich wedding planner, and a foul-mouthed bum all walk into a flower shop...

Fandom: Preacher

Words: 4,574

Warnings: None (except maybe cursing, but if that bothered you you wouldn’t be watching this show lol) 

Pairings: Jesse/Cass/Tulip

Where to Read it: Below the cut or on AO3 (AO3 recommended for formatting)

A/N: Hello, @homelygrantaire!! I come bearing a gift! Just so you know I had a blast writing an OT3 flower shop AU, so I really hope you enjoy this little present. Happy Summer Secret Santa! 

A Three Flower Bouquet 

Week One

Jesse had once read in National Geographic that there were only six degrees of separation between him and every other person on Earth. A friend's colleague's niece's kindergarten buddy grew up to be the wife of the barista who once served the President a cappuccino, that sort of deal. He'd never put much stock in that kind of science-y nonsense, though it might go a long way towards explaining how the hell the three of them kept ending up in here together.

A former preacher, a bum, and a renowned wedding planner all walk into a flower shop...

"We're the beginning of a bad joke," Jesse muttered, hefting his watering can like a pistol. He aimed it at Tulip's head. "What can I do you two for?"

"I need BIG flowers," Cass said promptly at the same time that Tulip went, "The Montoya order." They turned to glare at one another. Jesse just shook his head.

And so the day began.

***

The first time Tulip walked into his shop she was all figurative fire and brimstone—except for the literal fire at the end of her cigarette. She'd commanded the small space with all the ferocity of an army general, laying out a series of rare and rather large orders that she'd need from him within the coming months. At no point did she give her name—which, Jesse would come to learn later, was because she assumed everyone should already knew it—and paid him no heed when Jesse insisted that this was too large a job for his small, out of the way establishment.

She needed tulips, dammit, and she needed them now.

Jesse had been wrist deep in soil at the time and he’d felt is oozing between his fingers, this woman already grating on his nerves, spine, and driving a steak straight through to the back of his skull. He had to take a deep breath and deliberately release his fists, lest he crush the fragile roots just a hairsbreadth below. Jesse turned with a smile.

"I've got some," he said, probably sounding less amiable and more like he was constipated. While passing a kidney stone. God he hated these richie-rich types. "I've also got a contact an hour out who can make up the rest, but it'll take a bit. Really, ma'am, you're better off hitting a larger store."

The look she'd turned on his was pure in its intensity. Jesse's shop was filled with a color and life that didn't belong in Annville's desert, but this woman didn't belong in his shop, not with that sharp tailored suit and three-inch heels. She'd torn the sunglasses from her face and for the first time Jesse got a look at searing black eyes.

"I'm Annville born and bred," she drawled. "I'm loyal."

Jesse couldn't help punctuating her words with a disbelieving laugh. "You're Annville?"

"Fuck yes I am, you got a problem with that?" And one hand curled into a waiting fist, actually rearing back in preparation.

Oh damn. She was Annville. Alright.

Jesse had raised his muddied hands in surrender and went behind the counter to clean up, getting the order forms ready as she prattled on about her work as a wedding planner, her name in the magazines, how the flowers had best be fresh despite the climate because the Livington's were not an easygoing couple.

Jesse weathered her prattling about wanting whites, or maybe pinks, no, wait, maybe something two-toned, and each time she changed her mind it was another scratch out with the pen. By the time he actually got to flip the order around for her to sign it Jesse had determined that small town pride and stunning good looks didn't make up for this kind of nonsense.

Except then she signed Tulip O'hare and suddenly Jesse's day was fantastic.

"You're a Tulip," he said slowly, "in need of tulips..." Jesse looked up with a stunning grin and Tulip, bless her, just rolled her eyes instead of decking him good.

"Yeah, like I've never heard that one before." She threw his pen back on the counter. "I'll be here next Thursday. You'd best have my flowers."

"You doubt me?"

"Oh good god yes."

He'd laughed because yeah, their 'good god' had doubted him too and Jesse had eventually decided that growing things was better than sticking a dead, white collar on his neck every morning. He'd shed his chain like some kind of dog, mangy and still a little bit feral. But now Jesse had bright colors, heady scents, and the picture of someone like Tulip O'hare just begging that he come through for her. Jesse let his eyes follow the sharp lines of her bodyand thought that he could get used to this kind of clientele.

"Thursday then," he agreed. "It's a date."

"It's definitely not."

Tulip had put her cigarette out in his potted iris and honestly? If it had been anyone else Jesse would have had them leaving his store in pieces.

But she was something entirely.

***

Cass was something else too. Holy shit.

Jesse rubbed at his forehead, unconcerned that he was smearing soil over his skin. What had begun as a headache had blossomed (ha) into a migraine of epic proportions, all due to the skinny little twerp half sitting on his counter. Cass had come in for the first time exactly 69 minutes after Tulip left—a fact Jesse only knew because he was that obsessed with when he could close shop—and if that number didn't encompass the man's entire being, Jesse didn't know what would.

He'd known Cass for a handful of seconds. It was one handful too much.

"Back up," Jesse said. He sighed. "You want a cactus?"

"Yep."

"But mine are too pretty?"

Jesse gestured to the small collection of cacti sitting over by the windowsill, most of them in teeny-tiny pots that people found cute and not too intimidating to take care of. They still weren't overly popular though. People could see dry, prickly brush on their way to work everyday, or outside their bedroom window, free for the taking. No, they came to Jesse for the lush and the colorful, things he either had to import or that he grew himself, so slow that sometimes it was hard to part with them. No one in Annville wanted to buy a freaking cactus.

Except this asshole.

"Look at 'em!" Cass said. His voice held enough indignation that Jesse did look again, half expecting the view to change. "They're stupidly pretty. All fuckin' green an'... an' small." Cass pushed his hands palm to palm to demonstrate their smallness, looking pretty angry about it.

Jesse just stared. "...thank you?"

"It won't do. How they hell am I supposed to give Laura somethin' like that? She'll think I actually like her." Cass shook his head despairingly. "The fuck am I supposed to do now?"

That day had felt like something straight out of the Twilight Zone. Jesse was a small town boy with a small town business and he'd gotten used to his routine over the years. That routine sure as hell didn't include a stranger than normal customer, let alone two back-to-back... and yet, let it never be said that Jesse Custer couldn't roll with the punches.

"One sec," he said.

Jesse's backroom was a mess of tools, soil, and vegetation. On his bench was a pot of very dead petunias, the poor things all shriveled and brown. It wasn't his fault the damn things were finicky in this weather and honestly Jesse wasn't bemoaning the loss of those pink flowers, not when they were that cheap to come by. The plan had been to take back the pot and move on. Now Jesse snagged the whole thing, a few dead leaves trailing behind him.

He set the pot down in front of Cass. "This Laura of yours... she the one down at the auto-shop?"

"Yeah! One in the same."

"That woman's a piece of work."

"You're telling me."

"So how about giving her this?"

It was surreal to be presenting that run-down plant like it was something actually worth selling, but sure enough Cass' eyes lit up at the prospect. In that moment Jesse saw the whole situation clearly, how a man like Cass might think that breaking things off with a shitty gift—rather than just some good, old fashioned honesty—might be the way to go. Decked out in a whole collection of ratty clothes, Cass looked like the kind of creative asshole you only ran into once in a blue moon. He wore at least three torn shirts that as a whole nearly succeeded in covering his chest. His jeans were colored over in marker, like a freaking middle schooler's, and that was definitely weed doodled down on his left knee. The only reason Jesse knew his name was because Cass had a "Hello! My name is ____" sticker plastered on his stomach and he could only guess where he'd picked that up. Maybe one of the church's monthly events. It would fit. Jesse was pretty sure the guy was homeless. He kinda smelled homeless.

"I had my heart set on a cactus," Cass sighed. "But I guess a dead thing is better than just a looks-dead thing. Here," he rummaged in his jeans and pulled out three super wrinkled dollars, jellybeans, and a nearly empty packet of Camels. "Does this cover the shit you weren't even planning to sell?"

Jesse raised an eyebrow as he slid the offering across the counter. He left the jellybeans. "How were you gonna pay me if you wanted the cactus?"

"Duh. Was gonna pay you with a kiss. Gotta move on sometime, don’t I?"

Cass winked, grabbed his dead plant, and sauntered out the door with what he probably thought was a seductive strut. Despite the absurdity, Jesse did find himself staring at Cass' ass.

"Aw hell," he said.

***

Week Five

In the two years since he'd chucked the collar, beat up a few old contacts, collected their funds, and started up his shop, Jesse hadn't seen anyone of particular interest come through the door. Emily often came in on the church's behalf, asking for whatever was fresh and cheap to put up front. Jesse honestly didn't know if she did that because they really didn't have the funds, or because she couldn't stand to look at him long enough to actually choose something herself. Probably both. She'd taking his defrocking worse than most.

Others mostly picked up flowers on their way to and from service. For their windowsills. Their gardens. Local weddings, funerals, stupid boys looking to make up with their girls (of which Cass was in the obvious minority). Jesse had resigned himself to a life of flower mediocrity until those two assholes had plowed through at sixty miles an hour.

It wouldn't have been so bad if they didn't keep showing up together.

"I thought you ran a clean establishment, Jesse."

Tulip said it with all the rancor he'd come to expect of her, looking none too subtly at Cass’ grimy attire. A month had passed since she'd grudgingly complimented the tulips he'd provided and in that time she'd no more warmed to Cass than she had to dressing down. Today was a blue, pleated skirt; bright yellow top; killer heels and jewelry fine enough that it could probably feed Jesse for the rest of his miserable life.

Tulip kept a healthy distance between her fine clothes and Cass' scruffy self.

"It's a flower shop," he said. "These things grow in dirt." Cass shook a nearby plant for emphasis. "Manure, luv. Or does your fancy little life not cover some literal day-to-day shit? If you do go is it on a porcelain throne?"

Jesse slowly and carefully leaned his head into his palm. It wouldn't do for Tulip to see him laughing.

He had to hand it to her though, she was a master of manipulation. Tulip kept scrolling through her iPhone, occasionally holding up some pic or another against one of Jesse's flowers, typing out some notes, took a pic of her own... it was only after three long, agonizing minutes had passed that she looked up and said blandly, "Sorry. Did you say something?"

"Jesus fuckin' christ."

"Better question." Jesse raised his hand like a schoolboy. "Are you two assholes actually going to buy something?"

"I like your orchids," Tulip said, for the first time actually taking her eyes off Cass. "But I think they're a little classy for the Taitts. They're humble folk, you know? They need something bright with those white table cloths, just nothing that's going to distract from Laura's dress—it's not a very nice dress, can't afford anything more eye-catching. I do worry about the bridesmaids upstaging her—so maybe those sunflowers. Yeah, over there..." She completely missed Cass 'yapping' with his hand behind her back.

"I've only got enough for five vases," Jesse warned.

"That's fine. Humble, like I said. They've only got enough people for five tables anyway."

As Tulip rummaged for her credit card Cass slipped to the floor (he'd been sitting on the table with the lilacs, a smudge of pale brown amongst all the purple) and sauntered up behind Tulip. Like a kid faced with a dog, too stupid to know he'd get bit, Cass curved his hands around her waist and leaned into Tulip's back. He pressed briefly there before peeking out over her shoulder.

Except miracle of fucking miracles, the pretty doggie didn't bite.

"Uh," Jesse said.

"You better be cleaner than you look," Tulip muttered, still shifting through her purse. Cass waved his arms in demonstration and wow. He was clean. Relatively, at least. Jesse was still trying to re-boot his brain when Tulip said, "Ah!"

"No, no." Cass pushed her wallet back down. "This is on me, luv."

Tulip scoffed. "You can pay for five bouquets?"

"Well, not in the traditional sense, but Jesse and I have got a tab going, don't we?"

They most certainly did not. Cass' 'tab,' established after his first dead-plant purchase, consisted of promises he never kept and a pair of lethal puppy-dog eyes he wielded with precision. Over the last few weeks Jesse had given the man not perfect, but still serviceable flowers in exchange for all sorts of stupid trinkets and words. He liked to think that he gave Cass lilies and irises because he felt bad for the freeloader. It probably had more to do with Cass' obscenely pouty lips.

He was pouting right now, clearly begging Jesse to help a guy out. His arm moved numbly and somehow (dammit) Jesse ended up signing over the month's largest order for free.

"Enjoy," he said automatically, still staring at Cass' hand wrapped just under Tulip's breast. There were 'thank you's and sly glances and when they finally left the shop, Jesse followed them like the scoundrel he was. An apron, muck boots, and pollen dusted t-shirt sort of ruined his look though.

Still, Jesse could move silent when he needed to and what he found in his spying were his two favorite customers hoofing it to Tulip's Fiat 124 Spider, a car so fucking immaculate that it had no place on Annville's dusty streets. It seemed a shame then for the two of them to immediately start defiling it, both literally and figuratively: Tulip hiking Cass up onto the hood of the car, straddling him as he kept them balanced, the kiss that sent flecks of spit down to sizzle on the paint job, Cass' muddied boots leaving streaks on the tire. It wasn't any voyeuristic guilt that finally turned Jesse away. Just the disappointment that neither of those figures were him.

Of course, all that changed when Cass came back twenty minutes later.

"Crush my sunflowers in your enthusiasm?" Jesse muttered, forgetting for a moment that good, respectable businessmen didn't follow their customers out of doors and watch them going at it like bunnies on a sheet of hot metal. He ducked his head over seed packets and thus missed Cass turning the little sign from 'open' to 'closed.'

In fact, Jesse determined not to notice Cass at all until he was making himself at home between his legs.

Cass dropped to his knees and looked up with a rakish grin. If there was a god in this world maybe he wasn't so disappointed in Jesse's career change after all.

"Told you I'd pay you back," Cass said. He pinched a mouthful of jeans between his teeth and tugged, running hands up under apron and shirt. "Just didn't say how, now did? Think this'll clear up my tab?"

The answer Jesse gave was tangled as a vine because by then Cass was pulling down the zipper, palming the wet spot on Jesse's jeans, breathing deep like he enjoyed the scent of both of them together. Jesse gave up on words entirely and when he looked up there was Tulip standing just outside the storefront, watching them with a cigarette between her lips. There was a sunflower in her hair. She caught Jesse's eye and winked.

"Fuck you both," Jesse muttered, tugging hard at Cass’ hair.

He pulled off only for a moment. “Pretty sure that’s the point, eh?”

***

Week 13

So. Those two showing up at the same time—probably not a coincidence after all.

"Do you even like each other?" Jesse asked one Saturday morning, re-potting a Peperomia. "Do you like me? I'm honestly curious."

"You're serviceable," Tulip said as Cass licked his finger and made a sizzling sound. Right. Jesse didn't know why he bothered. It wasn't like any of them were built for straight answers, the kind of lovey-dovey declarations you got in the movies and on TV. Besides, didn't actions speak louder than words and all that shit?

If they did, their actions told Jesse that they were both complete and utter assholes. Also that they had nowhere better to go.

"This place is awful on my allergies," Tulip moaned, pulling a Kleenex from her purse. "And I was supposed to Skype with a potential client an hour ago." She checked her phone and shrugged, too lazy to move from the tiny chair Jesse had dragged out from the back room. Tulip flapped her hand at her face in a sad attempt to start up a breeze. "And your air conditioning sucks."

"Non-existent," Jesse countered. "Its been busted for weeks. The hot house stuff likes it, but..." He trailed off, staring at Cass who'd scrounged up an ancient GameBoy. He leaned against Tulip's legs and periodically peeled her skirt off of his bare back. It was that kind of heat. "Hey. You could fix the damn thing. Earn your keep if you're gonna hang out here all day."

"No," Tulip said. She kept fanning her face, eyes closed.

"Maybe," Cass said. Which meant 'no.' Dammit.

"Excuse me?"

The three of them turned as an older woman snuck in through the door, opening it so slow and careful that the bell barely rung. Her nerves didn't seem to ease when she spotted Cass and Tulip. If anything, she looked like she wanted to sneak back out.

"Welcome to Flowerworks," Jesse said, hurrying up to the front. "Sorry. Ignore them. They're just friends of mine."

"Is that what we are?" Tulip murmured and Jess flipped her the bird behind his back. The client latched onto his arm as Jesse carefully guided her away from his two fools. Her hand was brittle and fluttered like a bird against his arm.

In fact, the entirety of her looked frail, too thin and breakable for a place like Annville. Hair that was white and thin as cotton candy waved about her shoulders, and her dress—powder blue with a sensible belt—hung on her awkwardly, too big despite the 'XS' tag Jesse could see peaking out from the collar. She looked like a good breeze or a decent curse would send her topping to the ground, and Jesse hurried her over to the remaining chair next to the chrysanthemums, lest she fall and break something here where awful things like suing might get involved. Jesse then took a healthy step back once she was settled. Old people gave him the creeps.

"It's good of you to come in, Mrs...?"

Her mouth worked silently. The woman looked up at Jesse and her expression told him that he'd said something unexpectedly shocking, crude even. Finally, she smiled, but it was a small, awful thing.

"Sawyer," she said. "But I suppose it's 'Ms.' now. My husband died last night."

Behind him, Jesse heard the strangled noise that Tulip made and Cass' tiny "...aw shit." Mrs. Sawyer didn't seem to hear. She reached out a bony hand and gripped the edge of Jesse's apron, the parody of a small child and her mum.

"Howard needs white lilies," she said urgently, gaining some energy. "Although, yes, he never expressed any interest in flowers. Said they were commercial gimmicks. What's the point in spending money on something that's just going to die?" Her voice broke hard on the last word. "But they're coming for him later and I can't leave his grave bare I just can't I—"

"We have lilies," Jesse interrupted gently. He gripped her hand." Plenty of white."

"I woke up next to him," Mrs. Sawyer said. "I've done that every morning,” and all at once she sobbed and put her head between her hands.

This wasn't the first time Jesse had dealt with a distraught customer, but usually they were more composed than this: just slight, hiccupping cries or silent tears that slipped down the cheeks. He was used to anniversaries and useless birthdays, not the immediate aftermath. He floundered, turning to Cass and Tulip, only to find that their support was already underway. Tulip left at a brisk walk to the café down the street, returning with tea and plenty of chocolates. Cass filled the silence with any sort of prattle that seemed to soothe her. As Jesse bundled his best lilies in a black bow, he heard him telling Mrs. Sawyer that he'd once been a preacher. When she looked up with a disgusting amount of hope Jesse couldn't meet her eye.

Mrs. Sawyer left with their awkward condolences. She didn't pay a cent.

"Fucking hell," Cass said. He leaned into Jesse's shoulder as Mrs. Sawyer shuffled out of view.

"Yeah," Tulip agreed.

"What a mess she is. Like a broken doll or somethin'. It's fucking awful." He lit a cigarette with shaking fingers and for once Jesse didn't yell at him for getting smoke around his flowers. Cass took a draw, passed it to him, and Jesse next passed it to Tulip. Cass blew the smoke up at the ceiling, nice and slow.

"Think that'll be us someday?" he asked.

"Can only hope so."

***

Week 27

Flower shops felt like they were always standing still. There was something about the slow growth of the plants, the heady scents that added a dream-like atmosphere, and the contrast to the outside world that made it all... removed. Despite flipping the 'open' sign to 'closed' each evening, Jesse had the distinct feeling that time never actually passed here. Maybe it was a quality that all stores possessed. Maybe it was just his.

Or maybe it had something to do with Tulip kissing him.

"Hey, hey, hey," she pulled back and pinched Jesse's side, merciless. "Don't fuck up the hair. I've got a video call at 2:00."

"Plenty of time to fix it," Jesse murmured, starting in on her neck instead.

"You obviously know nothing about hair care."

"I know some other things though..."

Tuesdays were always slow for some reason and Jesse felt no guilt in dragging Tulip to the back room, especially not after she'd been gone two weeks, supervising a wedding in Oklahoma. She's brought back a sweat-stained invitation and a piece of stale cake that Cass had still eaten with relish. He'd gone out to 'work' (hustling the locals at poker) while Tulip had remained.

She was something to behold now, stretched out across his table, her skirt hiked up and her shirt pulled down. Cass was quick blowjobs behind the counter and late night secrets he’d never admit to in the morning. Tulip was slow and worshipful. She gave you nothing but absolute focus. It was rare for any of them to end up in an actual bed.

Jesse slid off the end of the table so he could put his mouth to work below. Tulip's thighs were the color of his soil, stretch marks pale like veined leaves, she trembled as gently as a petal.

He stupidly wanted to tell her that she was prettier than any flower in this store. Jesse knew she'd kick him for it.

Panting, Tulip propped herself up on one elbow and grinned. She reached behind her, fumbled, and snapped off the plant nearest to her. It was a little spring of aster.

"Got you a flower," she whispered.

"You stole it from me."

"Do you care?"

He really, really didn't.

***

Week 52

Six degrees of separation. They couldn't brag about knowing the president or the pope, but fate had certainly brought three distinct people together. More importantly, it refused to let them go.

"We should go on a trip." Cass said it with all the enthusiastic optimism of a toddler. "Just fuckin' drive outta this joint for a while. You know, see the sights, take in the open road, go all the way to the sea." He raised his hand and squinted, the horizon just beyond his reach.

Jesse snorted. "And who's paying for this idiotic romp?"

"Don't need no cash. You just drive an' shit. Take whatever you're given."

"Just drive," Jesse said. "With that gas you can't pay for. On the food we can't buy—"

"Don't be a shit spoil-sport about it."

"I'm rich," Tulip offered. She looked up from her phone when the room was silent too long. "What? I am. So if we're going anywhere it's in something nicer than whatever beat-up trash you're picturing."

"A camper."

"Absolutely not."

"Where would we go?" Jesse asked, because suddenly it all seemed possible, in as much as the three of them ever planned for anything. Not just the trip either, but that they'd be around each other long enough for more trips. Vacations. Growing old. Life.

"Anywhere." Cass skipped around the room until he found the oxeye daisies. He plucked one and not for the first time Jesse marveled that he wasn't run out of business by these two.

"Who'd watch the store?"

Tulip shrugged. "Wait it out. Cancel orders for a while, sell what you have, give a few things to Emily. She can keep them in the church..." For once Tulip wasn't smirking or glowering his way. "It'll be here when we get back."

"Suppose it will," and just like that Cass knew he had won.

He slid back onto the counter, messing up papers and knocking the poor cash register nearly off the side. Cass twirled the daisy between his fingers before plucking off a petal.

"Hey!" but before Jesse got indignant, Cass spoke.

"He loves me, he loves me not. She loves me, she loves me not..."

Oh. Alright. So the three of them watched, confident in where they'd finally land.

[cloudbattrolls]

Scheming and Dreaming

(Or: the story of how Gliese and Emerel discussed a score of highly illegal activities in the space of one night. Content warning for abuse mention and emotional manipulation mention).

AH: hey Emerel

AH: you were asking about Leoffe

AH: and I REALLY didn't want to say it in the main server for a shitload of reasons

AH: but the truth is they're fucking terrible. They hit Kit for so much as yawning on duty

AH: I guess the Fleet ignores it because they're like a thousand sweeps old and a seadweller, or they just don't fucking care because Kit's technically some sort of fake helm thanks to his implants.

AH: It's awful and I hate it but I cannot do fuck shit about it.

AH: even worse, Kit thinks it's normal

AH: I guess because they've had him since he was pretty much a wriggler

MN: ... 

MN: well that explains 

MN: literally everything 

MN: what the fuck

AH: yeah it's pretty fucking dismal

MN: i take it leoffe has more sweeps left than kit does

AH: lol Empress knows how long that asshole will live

AH: probably forever, they're a fucking fish

AH: so probably

MN: what about you? 

MN: do you get the same degree of treatment or is it mostly centered on kit?

AH: lol no Leoffe mostly ignores me, thank fuck

AH: I do what I'm told and nothing happens

AH: but Kit's like, their prize hoofbeast

AH: I'm just the backup

AH: that's probably why

AH: he's the one with the fancy tech in his pan and more training than me

AH: Leoffe's invested a lot in this project

MN: what's the end game of this project, exactly? 

MN: i assumed it was normal fleet advantage efforts 

MN: but what is it really?

AH: To be honest I don't know exact details. But I do know they're trying to boost our psi as much as possible, they want us controlling armies or some shit.

AH: but the thing is...

AH: you've seen Kit's hair.

AH: I'd bet you fucking anything that's from the strain they're putting on his powers.

MN: the curling? 

MN: i thought that was just the way he did his hair.

AH: The gray, you moron

AH: haven't you seen the gray streaks

MN: i have. 

MN: i'm still reeling sorry 

MN: i knew you both had it rough but i didn't realize just how much shit kit was in

AH: honestly for me it's mostly just a pain in my ass

AH: nothing I can't cope with

AH: it's Kit who's in trouble

AH: but he doesn't even realize how fucked up everything is

MN: what's in place to stop you from turning your psi on them? 

MN: ...besides kit thinking this is all normal, that is

AH: lol, Leoffe? Don't you know anything about mind-psi?

AH: loses strength the higher up the spectrum you go.

AH: Even with our shit - which IS extra strong - it'd still be a hell of a fight

MN: no i know that 

MN: but if they're going to have you controlling entire armies potentially 

MN: then what's to stop all that raw power from breaking through the psychic barrier if it's been trained well enough

AH: ...you saying we could sabotage them and make it look like an accident?

AH: maybe.

AH: but I'd have to be very, very sure about that.

MN: and if kit thinks the way he's getting treated is normal then 

MN: he'd have to be not there at the time if something went down 

MN: if only so they can't think he had something to do with it

AH: ugh. this shit hurts my pan. I'm no big fan of the fleet, but the reason I didn't run from forced conscription in the first place is because it's such a bad idea to fuck with them.

AH: especially Leoffe. we'd have to be so fucking careful.

AH: honestly, much as I hate saying it

AH: it'd be easier to sabotage Kit. even if they'd take me as the backup. I could just get myself in trouble another way and get discharged.

MN: i'm not so sure they would gliese

MN: think about it

MN: they put a lot of money into this project

MN: nobody wants that much of an investment to go to waste

AH: ugh

MN: if you sabotaged kit and they deemed him not useful, he knows too much and has too much tech to just...leave in him, probably

AH: if only there were a third Lepus troll hanging around

AH: especially if they were a dick

AH: blegh, probably

AH: but if he burned out altogether...

AH: they COULDN'T use him

MN: and if you went in their place, you'd get the same treatment as kit instead of being left alone 

MN: because leoffe is old 

MN: old seadwellers? 

MN: they hate it when everything isn't exactly the way they want it 

MN: and it sounds like leoffe takes it to a whole new level on that front

MN: what would that do to kit though?

MN: what happens when you burn out

AH: Not sure. To be honest, I think he might already be showing - oh, that

AH: well I only saw it happen to a lowblood once, and they did survive...

AH: but it wasn't pretty

AH: still, Kit's cobalt, or practically

MN: a lowblood who probably isn't full of psychic implants and metal

AH: he probably has a better chance than a rust

MN: what happens when the parts they wired you both up with actually burn out as opposed to a natural burn out

AH: ...ugh, shit, I didn't think of that. Well I'm not wired, for one, but yeah you're right, that's a complication in his case.

AH: all I can think of is more surgery. Take them out, then burn him out.

AH: but I don't know who'd do that.

MN: alright let's 

 MN: let's put our heads together here 

MN: we both know people 

MN: who do we know that might know someone who can 

MN: one of us has to

AH: I know Lapyen, she fixed him up before when he got burned, but she's fifty kinds of too nervous for this

AH: She got jumpy just when we said we were fleet

AH: so that's out

AH: do you know any docterrorists or anything who don't mind doing something a bit illegal?

MN: well 

MN: pheres is the go to person for all things social and shady 

MN: and he knows half of alternia 

MN: but i don't know if it's a good idea to involve him in this

AH: yeaaaah

AH: look, I like Pheres, I do, but I'm with you on this one

AH: he seems like he'd be WAY too nervous about it

MN: i love him more than anyone but 

MN: let's face it, he's got a big mouth and poor decision making skills

AH: tell me if I'm wrong but that's the vibe I - LOL

AH: noted

AH: ...wait, though

AH: aren't you and him both dating Kit

AH: how exactly does that work anyway

AH: I was just happy he stopped bedding and piling half the town so I didn't ask but I now realize I don't even know wtf your deal is

MN: a very weird red smear that i never saw coming and it's a long story 

MN: i want kit to be happy and i want him to be safe 

MN: i really thought it was just a worse than average case of roughing up you get from being a soldier until you said something

AH: lol that's fine that's good enough for me

AH: you aren't that fucking stupid looking brownblood chick, I don't give a damn

AH: I still can't believe he took whatever the fuck her name was to the ball

MN: ugh yeah her 

MN: i remember seeing her 

MN: she smelled like rotting flesh

AH: ewwww

AH: what the hell

MN: but anyway 

MN: back to the task at hand

AH: lol yeah good point

MN: we need to start fishing around as discreetly as we can 

MN: and figuring out who knows who and what they're willing to do

AH: I think you might have more luck than me with finding something my social circle is small and frankly I prefer it that way, unless we want to start hiring shady fucks off the internet

MN: the thing about shady fucks is 

MN: they're easy to buy and they're likely to squeal if they're caught

AH: yeah, and while I can cull a squealer, I can't always cull whoever they squealed to

AH: if they're smart and sell the info to someone powerful enough I can't touch

MN: alright, who are the top five people in your social circle? 

MN: mine are pheres, kit...thalia....and a matesprit pair from work 

MN: what a great circle

MN: there's only so much you can do with limited power

AH: Uh. Kit, Cateex, Canela...Riccin...does Lapyen count?

AH: not counting any of my ex-clade because fuck them.

MN: so we've ruled out lapyen 

MN: and i take it she's too anxious to ask if she knows any shady collegues

AH: lol honestly she might but I doubt she'd tell me, so yeah

MN: we obviously can't ask kit to take out his own implants 

MN: that would end horribly

AH: oh my god yeah no so fucking horribly

AH: ...hmmm, Riccin's obnoxiously Empire loyal but

AH: they ARE literally part of a fucking helm program.

AH: they might know someone I can talk to.

MN: maybe not someone empire loyal 

MN: how does riccin feel about being a helm

AH: they fucking it love it because they're nuts

AH: but I bet not everyone is as gung-ho as they are

AH: if I'm careful they'll never know what I'm really trying to do

AH: god, even if we find someone we're going to have a hell of a time persuading Kit to do this

AH: I'm not even sure we could persuade him at all, at least by telling the truth

MN: leave kit to me and pheres 

MN: i think i could twist it so neither of them realized what was happening 

MN: as shitty as that makes me feel to lie to them

MN: what about cateex and canela

AH: yeah I'm not the biggest fan of it either

AH: but what choice do we have

AH: the way he is now he'll just keep obediently following along until he literally burns out in a bad way, or his blind obedience gets him killed

AH: Canela's no fan of the fleet, but she's a fashion model, I doubt she knows anyone useful

AH: but maybe she'll come in handy for something, I'll keep her in mind

AH: Cateex...I know she's not a fan of the spectrum, but honestly, she's so taciturn about anything personal that I have no damn clue how she'd feel about this

MN: maybe not 

MN: but she's in a high industry and probably has connections 

MN: if she doesn't know, someone she comes into contact with might have an idea

AH: hm, yeah

MN: so cateex is also a huge maybe

AH: I trust her, but she's also the person who scolds me whenever I do anything mildly reckless

AH: I think this is a little more than mildly

MN: so our list of 'maybe' 

MN: are cateex and canela 

MN: and thalia 

MN: because this is definitely too big for the last two on my side

MN: just a little bit more than mildly, yes

AH: who the hell's Thalia anyway

MN: an 

MN: old friend

AH: I smell drama so I won't touch that

AH: unless you wanna spill

MN: she'd love the idea of being involved in something like this 

MN: but she always wants something in return

AH: oh lmao that type

MN: well.... 

MN: look friend is a loose term okay 

MN: point being

AH: point being?

MN: she's a last resort possibility

AH: A'ight

MN: and she's a clown too meaning that they'd be less likely to question her acting strange

AH: oh god, bleh

MN: tell me about it

AH: can't say I'm a fan of anyone higher than my caste, besides Canela. but that's a good point, unfortunately

MN: i don't care much about caste unless you're batshit insane to be honest

AH: lol, I've just had the bad luck of nearly everyone teal and above I've met being a huge cock

AH: Kit, Lapyen, and Canela are basically the only exceptions

MN: if you talked to lapyen, could you spin it like you were looking for a specialized doctor?

MN: at the moment, it sounds like canela or lapyen are going to be our best bets

AH: hmmm, yeah, that's possible

AH: she DOES have this new medical gig with some company, I could probably poke around for contacts

MN: do that 

MN: that sounds like our best lead right now

AH: yeah I'll get on it, Lapyen's kind of skittish but she loves talking about her work

AH: shouldn't be too hard

MN: i wish we had a plan to straight up take out leoffe 

MN: but i work in the history field 

MN: let me tell you all about power vacuums and bad ideas

AH: yeah, I'm willing to listen to you on that one because the basic shit they've taught me since I got here I don't know fuck shit about history

AH: but killing someone that powerful seems like asking to die anyway because common fucking sense

AH: plus they're violet which would make it even worse

MN: even if you're not caught 

MN: someone will take their place 

MN: and someone's going to die for the crime either way 

MN: and then they'll feel good about justice being served

AH: whoo

AH: yeah, no, I know we can't touch them directly

AH: fooling them is going to be our problem

AH: since even if we manage to get Kit's tech out

AH: we still have to work out how to burn him out quickly enough before they cotton on

MN: without causing permanent damage to his pan or something too

AH: yeah

MN: can the implants be hacked?

AH: ...you know, I DON'T KNOW

AH: but I bet I can find out.

AH: and that'd be WAY easier than trying to get them out of him.

AH: probably.

MN: find out 

MN: because if they can 

MN: that's a hell of an angle to exploit

AH: yeah I'll get on that

AH: what I know about tech can be tattooed on a grub's underside but I know a chick who can help with that

AH: she's not a close friend, but Dionna wouldn't tattle

MN: what's dionna like

AH: flirtiest greenblood you've ever met. Practically jade but not quite, like, a hue or two below. not bad once you tell her to back off, which admittedly she's pretty good about. she's good in a fight and with technology.

AH: and she got her face and vocal cords mauled by her ex-kismesis, who was a seadweller, so she really doesn't give a damn about the spectrum

AH: not an out and out rebel but she's like you, doesn't really care one way or the other

AH: ...actually I just thought of another reason she might be useful, though it's not her, it's her 'rail

AH: he's a powerful emotion controller. Doesn't know anything useful to us, but he might be helpful if we had to pressure anyone who we couldn't get away with wounding.

MN: gliese

AH: what

MN: you are a fucking genius

AH: I know

MN: talk to them 

MN: do whatever you have to 

MN: especially whatever will get that moirail on our side

AH: you got an idea brewing in that green head of yours?

MN: i have a hell of an idea brewing

AH: perfect

MN: but it's going to need the tightest planning either of us have ever done in our lives

AH: we can do it

AH: we're fucking incredible

MN: unless we have enough money to just buy kit out of the program but good luck with that

AH: yeah, no, I'm blue but I don't have the funds to buy out an adult fleet violet lmao

MN: even i don't have that kind of money 

MN: hell that's so much that i don't even think canela does

AH: probably not

AH: not when Leoffe's had so much longer to accumulate it

MN: how well does that emotion power work on highbloods

AH: supposely pretty well, according to Dionna

AH: like if she wasn't pulling my leg, it apparently worked on that kismesis of hers

AH: and he was high violet

AH: I'm not talking those borderline indigo assholes, I mean someone who's like half a step down from tyrian

MN: if she's not lying 

MN: and we can get this guy to help us somehow 

MN: i have no idea what he'd want but i can afford a bribe 

MN: that might just solve our problem with kit and his loyalty to leoffe

AH: yeah I can also help with a bribe

AH: ...though wait

MN: do the implants provide defenses against psionics? 

MN: though if it's true they worked on a near tyrian i suppose it doesn't matter

MN: what's wrong?

AH: Are you saying we'd use it on Kit?

AH: Man, I guess that'd work, but god he'd fucking hate us later

MN: i'd rather not but 

MN: we want him out and it won't be easy 

MN: we have to at least think on every angle

AH: yeah

AH: that's true

MN: ...you're right 

MN: shit 

MN: maybe not on kit 

MN: but let's keep heart guy in mind

AH: LOL, I think his name's...

AH: Inneal? Iunule? Something like that. He lives in Port Mina, so he's easy to get to me for me at least.

MN: this might be a good time to try making friends 

MN: quote unquote

AH: lol

AH: I think his best friend will be my caegers

MN: hey gliese 

MN: is the fleet training any actual psionic blockers right now?

MN: if you need more caegars 

MN: i've got you covered

AH: no goddamn clue, probably, but I don't get told about it

MN: fuck 

MN: my thought was if we could find one who wanted to make a prisonbreak 

MN: that might be useful too

AH: lol I'm blue, I bet I have more money than you, buddy, but hm. I'll try and find out, the place DOES recruit a lot of lowbloods.

MN: you might 

MN: but i do have a shit ton of money myself 

MN: battle rings are lucrative when you're good at them

AH: haha holy shit that's great

AH: thank god at least one of Kit's quads isn't afraid to stab a motherfucker

MN: i know i come off like an ass a lot 

MN: but i am the only one willing to stab without a second thought 

MN: and that worries me

AH: please I am the goddamn empress of first-class assholes make no apologies to me

AH: I've met way worse

AH: yeah it should fucking worry you Kit is way too soft for his own good

AH: idk about Pheres, he seems cunning enough, but is he any good at fighting

MN: in a pinch maybe 

MN: but he mostly runs and teleports when he can't run

AH: ugh

AH: that only works in certain situations

AH: or if the other person's psii can't counter his

MN: but to his credit 

MN: it makes a bright ass light 

MN: i got blinded the first time i saw it

AH: damn

AH: all I get is sparks around my eyes and shit

AH: well, guess we ought to go talk to our people and see what we can get

AH: night, Emerel

AH: we should talk again when we've both got shit to share

MN: i'll let you know what i find

MN: good luck

AH: we're gonna need it

MN: this uh 

MN: might be a good idea to make secure safety plans for people you like 

MN: and tell them you like them 

MN: because we're dead if we mess up

AH: lol, yeah

AH: don't have to tell me twice

[rafespeaks]

ANYWAY RANDOM HEADCANONS B/C NO ONE ELSE IS ONLINE TONIGHT

< > - means my gf @turbomun typed it

Hau

Imagine bby Hau when his dad first left. Imagine how confused & devastated he must've been. Imagine him sending letter after letter with his mom's help but only getting a few back. Imagine one day the return letters just... stop. Imagine Hau and his mom continuing to write letters until they start coming back as 'return to sender'. Imagine Hau not fully understanding why and continuing to write letters anyway, but just not sending them. Imagine him finally old enough to understand, but he keeps on writing them anyway, just because it's a little therapeutic and it's become a habit by now anyway. < Eventually he just stops sending them and keeps them in a box. He decides to give them to his dad if he ever sees him again. >

I've been thinking about how Hau may have met Nalani over the past few days, and what the circumstances might've been for Hala yelling in front of him, and just general bby Hau stuff. And I came up with some loose headcanons concerning that stuff. Hau used to go out and play with the Pichu around Iki Town all the time, and there was one that always seemed to love hanging around him no matter what, and it just... followed him home one day. Hala never liked Hau going to play with the Pichu because not every wild Pokemon is so friendly. He always lectured Hau about the dangers, especially of overaggressive Pokemon like you see charging at you in the grass and from bushes and shaking trees. Hau never really got it though - he was too young and all the Pokemon he'd met so far were friendly! This led to him getting too close to Hala's Tauros when it was worked up one day. It could've killed him and Hala was so scared for him and angry at his disobedience that he ended up shouting. This resulted in Hau being afraid of pissing off not only Hala but ANY kahuna. This is also why he says he couldn't ride a Tauros once Tauros is registered in your Ride Pager, though he's confident enough by the end of the game to learn to ride from Hala (as seen in the credits picture). (Typed on Feb. 11)

Some Hau headcanons no one asked for: He is gender fluid, tho he usually defaults to he/him. His assigned gender is male, though he would sometimes feel like he was a girl even from a very young age. He'd also get annoyed when people assumed he was just playing and pretending to be a girl. So when he first heard the terminology, he was ecstatic and was like "YES I'm THAT!!!" It was a similar story for him being gay. His first ever crush was on Ilima when he was six. Ofc, Ilima is a little old for him, so he eventually grew out of the crush and is simply Ilima's friend instead. Typically, Hau stays the same gender all day, but he has been known to switch. Especially after he's listened to a song he likes that has self-referencing pronouns. Bonus Hau/Gladion headcanon - if Gladion really DOES teach himself guitar, he'll change the pronouns in any love songs for Hau's current gender. Hau loves him to death for this... (Typed on Feb. 13)

Random headcanon: Typically, when Hau gets tired, he gets more active rather than less so. He turns all giddy and bouncy and it's really hard to get him to sit still unless he's in a bad mood or was sitting still already. So when he was younger and he started bouncing off the walls more than usual, that was his family's signal for 'okay, bedtime'. (Typed on Feb. 1)

Gladion

< ok but would Gladion play the acoustic guitar like a True Edgelord™ > OMG HAU WOULD M E L T < HAU STUMBLES UPON GLADION PLAYING GUITAR AND STOPS TO LISTEN > HE WOULD BE SO FLOORED LIKE "HOLY SHIT I'M SO IN OVER MY HEAD..................." < EVEN IF GLADION WAS A COMPLETE AMATEUR AND COULD ONLY PLAY WONDERWALL > (Typed on Jan. 29)

Red

Valentines Day shenanigans -  Red would probably put a lot of thought into every aspect of anything he got Green, INCLUDING the card. < He would make his own with construction paper and 2/3 a bottle of glitter Glitter is all over the apartment for the next 6 months >  RED U CHEESY BOI................  IMAGINE HIS POKEMON HELPING HIM. GLITTER ALL OVER THEIR CLAWS/PAWS/HANDS. ESPECIALLY HIS SHINY RAI < AND MEWTWO > Lol, Mewtwo would probably use his psychic powers and not even pick up the bottle. ... but then Raichu would smear him with glitter on purpose. GLITTER FIGHT!!!!! By the time it's over Red is just like "... this was a mistake..." < Green comes back like what the FUCK > (Typed on Feb. 12) + extra from another time  IMAGINE RED MAKING A SPECIAL CARD FOR GREEN EVERY YEAR................... BONUS: GREEN DOESN'T EVEN REALIZE HE'S THE ONLY ONE RED MAKES A HAND-MADE CARD FOR & THAT ALL THE OTHER KIDS GET THE STORE-BOUGHT STUFF.

< When Red was a baby, he hated feeling like he was alone at any time. He easily fell asleep in just about anyone's arms, but wouldn't sleep in his crib unless he was given a stuffed toy or a soft blanket to cuddle with. Because of this, his parents always referred to him as a "snuggle-bug" > (Typed on Feb. 21)

(Not technically Red but...) -  Btw!!! Plot bunny I forgot to tell you about!!! Imagine Mewtwo helping Raichu out with her newfound Psychic powers. B/c it's tough, he knows. Imagine her accidentally broadcasting her emotions tho it's always way more subtle than Mewtwo b/c she's not nearly as strong as him. Imagine she's so used to life as a Pikachu, she often forgets she even has psychic powers now. Sometimes she rolls onto her tail in the middle of the night and it starts floating and when she wakes up she's so startled she drops herself. IMAGINE PSYCHIC CHOCO CHU PROBLEMS < Mewtwo teaches ChocoChu about controlling her hovering and one day Red comes home to her nyooming around the house > Red just like "Holy heck you can do that now???" < Also Mew decides that ChocoChu is A Friend > ChocoChu is a Friend to Everyone (Typed on Feb. 27)

Lyra

I was looking for Japanese terms of endearment and... "Another common one is to use a suffix based upon some sort of adorable trait, like -rin or -pon, that as far as I can tell is based upon some part of their personality and/or physical appearance--for example, if a child was a particularly chubby baby, -pon might have stuck (used after a vowel sound, like 'Aki-pon', for example)"  LYRA-PON......... < LYRA-PON!! > Also apparently the Japanese don't really use terms of endearment...?? Just... nicknames. But still, that was a good find.

Silver

... Sudden Silver headcanon. He yells a lot ofc but he can't really take too much yelling himself. Especially if it's directed at him from someone he cares about. < ...what if when Silver gets yelled at by someone he cares about, even if they apologize later, he tends to crave some kind of physical affection from them so that he knows they still care about him Not that he'd show it but he wants to be loved > < If u fight with Silver, the best thing to do afterwards is give him a hug > Yep... He'll probably stiffen up, and then cry into ur shoulder for a little while, but it'll have him feeling better a lot faster.

Tbh I can't really see Silver conforming to labels. He was born a boy, that's what he's used to. Call him whatever you want, he doesn't fuckin' care, but he won't go out of his way to correct you. He's just like "whatever". < He alternately describes his gender as "whatever" "who knows" and "yes" > LMAO YES < "What is your gender?" "yes" > X P I just felt like Silver's so confident in who he is as a person, he wouldn't actively ask anyone to change the pronouns they use for him.  < "Are you a boy or a girl?" "I'm a Pokemon trainer" "yeah but what is your gender" "who knows" "but what's in your pants" "my PokeBalls" > (Typed on Feb. 13)

< Random and unexpectedly cute headcanon/idea thing?? Not something we'd ever RP but just something that popped into my head: Giovanni has to teach Silver how to shave >  AHAHAHAHA Y E S Silver still hates cutting ANY of his hair but he hates having facial hair even MORE < Especially because pubescent facial hair is so UGLY AND GROSS LOOKING, finally one day he can't take it anymore and goes "Dad can I borrow your razor" And Giovanni is like "?? you're gonna shave?? well I have an extra razor but not so fast, I'm teaching you how to use it first" > Silver's just "UGH FINE JUST PLZ MAKE IT QUICK - THIS STUFF IS PISSING ME OFF" < You have just saved yourself many scratches down the line, believe me" So Giovanni is teaching him and at one point just comments, "you're lucky you have a safety razor. I had to learn using a straight razor which looks like you're trying to commit suicide every morning" > And Silver's just like "Yeah whatever, as long as I get this shit off, I don't really care what does it." < Father and son bond over complaining about goddamn fucking facial hair and Silver must have inherited his dislike from Gio because Gio is the most clean shaven guy EVER, he shaves every day no matter what "Shaving is what separates us from the cavemen son" > L M A O NO WAIT IMAGINE SILVER TEACHING ETHAN HOW TO SHAVE NOT LONG AFTER THAT < oh my GOD Ethan would grow a Baby's First Mustache and not even notice until Silver and Lyra go "what the fuck is on your face" > H A A A A A < Silver "Ethan I'm gonna show you how to shave. My dad says that this is what separates us from the cavemen." "...but what if I want to be a caveman" > "THEN YOU CAN SAY GOODBYE TO ANY POSSIBILITY OF KISSING ME" < "JUST KIDDING LETS LEARN TO SHAVE" > (Typed on Feb. 26)

... Imagine Silver getting into book repair... Like he finds a really battered book at a thrift store or in a library or smth and he just can't leave it there. So he takes it home and works on it until it looks goddamn beautiful. And if it's a library book he takes it back (even if he was told he could keep it) and the librarian is??? Just??? "How the hell did you do that wtf" < THATS APPROPRIATE I KNOW WAY TOO MUCH ABOUT BOOK REPAIR > and I literally made a book 4 u :P (Typed on Mar. 7)

Giovanni

< Giovanni has a habit of saying "close the light" instead of "turn off the light." This has to do with the expression for turning off the light in the Italian language. >  ... Silver would SO tease him about it... All the time... < "hey dad did you remember to close the TV" "hey dad have you closed your computer yet" "hey dad you left the light open" "HEY DA > (Typed on Feb. 21)

My mom just showed me a picture of a bumper sticker on facebook that said "Proud parent of a great kid that is sometimes an asshole and that's ok". I immediately thought of Giovanni & Silver. < I want them to have one of those knitted cruets that says "God Bless This Asshole Family" > (Typed on Feb. 8)

< ok random thought but I've always had the headcanon that Giovanni drinks -- only in moderation, sometimes he'll have a glass of wine at night or sometimes a shot of something stronger if he's feeling anxious. but he usually doesn't drink in front of Silver and one day Silver walks in the kitchen and sees Giovanni pouring a drink and is immediately horrified "DAD ARE YOU AN ALCOHOLIC DO YOU NEED AN INTERVENTION" >

Lusamine

... What do u think of Lusamine having Lillie take flute lessons < She probably had a strict regimen of Approved Extracirricular Activities for her kids > Yup. Lots of classy instrument lessons probably. No art tho - too messy and you can't really measure art by 'perfection'. Reading fiction was highly discouraged. Lusamine would throw out books she didn't approve of. 'Play time' was allowed with her in-game team of Pokemon, though it was more like sitting quietly while they pet the Pokés. They probs know a decent amount about sciencey shit tho they weren't supposed to go near the labs. Perfect handwriting was stressed and Lillie can and does write in picturesque cursive (it is EXTREMELY rare for her to write in print). You could ask her to do greeting cards. Toys in general were more or less frowned upon, but she allowed them to have some as long as they put them EXACTLY where they go when they're done playing. If not, the toy is thrown away. Gladion has had more toys thrown away than Lillie. No videogames. Ever. No TV either. ... Damn I feel bad just writing this... < I mean, all that would apply only AFTER Mohn fucked off to PokePelago, and we don't know how old they were when that happened. > Y E P It would probably be at least... oh, say... five years? So Lillie would've been about six and Gladion eight. Yeah, I think that fits. Lillie can remember a time her mother was kind, before their father disappeared, so it couldn't have been TOO long ago. But it would've had to have been long enough for Lusamine to gather all the resources she would've needed to execute her plan.

Guzma

I gotta ask tho - what do you think Guzma and Hala's relationship was like when he was young? Because the text after you battle him seems to say they pretty much acted as master/apprentice for a while. ... I kinda wonder if Guzma respected him more as a father figure than his own dad... < ok but Hala has that temper right?? WHAT IF ONE DAY GUZMA DID SOMETHING STUPID AND HALA STARTED YELLING AT HIM AND GUZMA JUST CRINGES AND BACKS AWAY AND SUDDENLY HALA MAKES THE CONNECTION BETWEEN THAT BEHAVIOR AND THE FACT THAT GUZMA ALWAYS SEEMS TO HAVE CUTS AND BRUISES AND WONT SAY WHERE THEY CAME FROM >  OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH NNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO < AND HE IMMEDIATELY CALMS DOWN AND COMFORTS GUZMA AND ASSURES HIM THAT HE WOULD NEVER HIT HIM > I LOVE Y E S

< - Guzma and Luna commiserating bc Lillie left and Luna's upset and Guzma is like "ya I feel you there, my boyfriend left me and took up with some broad. I thought we had something special y'know?" > YYYYYEEEEESSSSSS < - Guzma and Kukui were dating after Guzma adopted his loud, brash, thuggish personality, so Guzma was never shy during their relationship...until Kukui broke up with him. Now he's a complete wreck in romantic situations. > S H I T......... POOR BOI......... < - Guzma legit thought that he and Kukui would be together for life, he never anticipated that they'd break up - and Kukui is the hardest person for Guzma to forgive after Team Skull disbands And yeah, it's gotta hurt to see your old flame get MARRIED > Just imagine how shitty Guzma would've felt directly after his first battle with Luna... Not only is Kukui COMPLETELY unfazed by seeing him again, but the man sends a KID who JUST MOVED HERE to beat down HIS EX BOYFRIEND......... < Like JESUS FUCK HE CAN'T EVEN BOTHER TO BATTLE ME HE THINKS THAT LITTLE OF ME?? I think Kukui is just kinda...disappointed that Guzma went down this path? Like he knew he could've been better > HE DOESN'T EVEN RESPECT MY STRENGTH ENOUGH TO FIGHT ME AS A FELLOW ADULT - HE HAS A KID DO IT AND SHE S T I L L BEAT MY ASS < KUKUI WAS PROBABLY TRYING TO SAVE GUZMA SOME HURT GIVEN THE FACT THAT HE COULD WIPE THE FUCKING FLOOR WITH GUZMA > Yeah... Guzma would be too hurt by everything that's happened between them to care that he's 'disappointed'

IMAGINE KUKUI AND SYCAMORE TALKING ABOUT RESEARCH OR SOME SHIT THO AND MAYBE SYCAMORE COMES TO ALOLA FOR SOME REASON AND HE AND GUZMA MEET AND GUZMA'S JUST LIKE "HOLY SHIT AND HERE I THOUGHT KUKUI WAS THE ONLY HOT YOUNG PROFESSOR AROUND" < GUZMA HAS A TYPE Kukui: Guzma, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, Professor Sycamore! *close up of Guzma staring while "At Last, My Love" plays in the background* >

Y'know, I was thinking about how Guzma and Plumeria would've met the other day. I 100% bet you it would've been after Guz ran away. He's passing through Ula'ula Island with his Pokemon, trying to find a place to crash for the night. He comes to that trailer park area and ends up bumping into Plumeria. Literally. "Hey, watch it, asshole!" "You watch it, bitch - I'm walkin' here!" "The fuck you just call me?!" "You heard me!" "You wanna go?!" "Bring it on, miss priss!" Long story short, they get into a fist fight. Plumes throws the first punch because Guz has been taught not to hit girls by his mom but he's not opposed to self defense. And by the end they're just... completely winded and beat all to hell... And they just... "... You fight good." "Thanks. You too." "Hey. You wanna swing by my house and grab a soda or something?" "... Got any Tapu Cocoa?" And then next thing you know it's just... "Yo, Grams! This is my new friend, Guzma!"  < Guzma: "hey Plumeria wanna DISMANTLE THE OPPRESSIVE ESTABLISHMENT BY RAPPING AGRESSIVELY AT BUS SIGNS" Plumeria: "sure lemme just grab some popcorn" >

< In game: Faba is a challenger to the championship In RP: Faba is in FUCKING JAIL WHERE HE BELONGS Also Guzma will probably have to do community service at the very least > Yeah I agree... Wouldn't be surprised if he'd be under house arrest, too, which would explain his return to his childhood home. (Imagine him hiding the ankle bracelet from his mother.........) < Actually, I think there's a thing where you're allowed out in the community if you have someone supervising you at all times? Imagine Hala stepping up to be the Guzma Supervisor > I LOVE................... < He probably wouldn't be sentenced as harshly if he could prove that he was manipulated by Lusamine, but still...vandalism and petty theft and all that > Ye. Not to mention, y'know, takING OVER A WHOLE FUCKING TOWN... (How could he have even done that anyway?? Was it already partially deserted and the rumors are just vastly exaggerated, or...???) < I'm gonna take a wild guess here and say: Aether did it They did it to convince Guzma that allying with them could benefit both parties, plus it would give Team Skull a stronghold Which would be good for Aether when they needed Team Skull to do dirty work > Ye, they probably just straight-up bought the whole damn place. < And then sent their own members disguised as Skull grunts to drive everyone out and kick up the rumors. Which would make people avoid the town. > L M A O Hold on wait wait. I just got the greatest mental image. Imagine Guzma leading them RIDING HIS FUCKING GOLISOPOD LIKE A GODDAMN STEED THAT'D MAKE A FUCKING IMPRESSION!! X D < FICKJNG >

Currently RPing this -  Btw... I thought of something of my own... Guzma kinda got off easy with that trip to Ultra Space, right? Well, what if he DIDN'T...? I was thinking about how he was just hangin' out there and how he'd been briefly possessed by the Nihilego... And what if he really wasn't okay mentally - what if he was dissociating? And it becomes, like, a huge problem for him, and that's a big reason that he gave up on Team Skull and went home. B/c if the grunts are mainly teenage kids with nowhere else even remotely healthier to go, why the hell would Guzma give up on them unless he had to? Think about it. His Pokemon = Therapy Bugs... < GOOD!! THERAPY BUGS!!! > ONE OF THE ONLY WAYS HE CAN FEEL BETTER IS BY MAINTAINING CONTACT WITH ONE OF HIS BUG BUDDIES, ESPECIALLY GOLISOPOD......... < Wouldn't he have like...a minor version of what Lusamine has, almost?? His system wouldn't be swamped with neurotoxins but they still would have effected him. And I was reading about someone with dissociation issues and like...sometimes you can't remember what you're supposed to do?? Even if it's something super simple. The person I read about was like...she went to the bank, was gonna write two checks, but then after the first one she literally could not remember what she was supposed to do with the second one. > Yeah, I think he would've. Ofc, that would mean that the doctors that sent him home Fucked Up™ And huh... I'll have to keep that in mind... >:3 < Tru, but the doctors had never encountered something like that before. As someone who's been hospitalized, if you have no symptoms, they won't do extensive tests. And even if he had symptoms he would have been just like I Wanna Get The Fuck Out Of Here™ > Ye, tru. Guz was goin' home and AIN'T NO ONE GONNA STOP 'IM. Straight back to the mansion, plop down with his buggies and some room-temp Tapu Cocoa (b/c who can be assed to warm it up when you just came back from an alternate dimension where you've been dissociating & are now dead tired???), and then straight to sleep b/c fuck the world it can W A I T. < And Guzma doesn't strike me as the type to seek help if he has psychological warning signs. > N O P E... It would take a friend AND his bugs pestering him about it non-stop to get him to go see someone. Tho most of his buggies are nonverbal and he doesn't have a communicator anyway, so it's mostly flat looks and annoyed clicking sounds. < Lmao Luna translating tho "Golisopod thinks you're being a stubborn asshole" > "weLL FUCK YOU TOO, MAN!" >:CCC Imagine after Guzma challenges Luna and says he'll be waiting at the beach, he gets there and... just... "... The fuck was I doing...??" (Also "You tell my mom those 'rumors' are true, I'll kiCK YOUR ASS, KID") < Luna shows up "okay what do you want" ".....I don't....... remember.........." >  That's the first tip-off to anyone other than Plumeria & his parents that something's W R O N G < And at first she thinks he's joking cause "how do you not REMEMBER, you clearly had a good idea of what you wanted five minutes ago" > He just gets super annoyed and stressed out of nowhere "I don't fucKING K N O W, OKAY?!?! I JUST DON'T REMEMBER!!!" < And she just kinda jumps back like "ok Arceus fuck then I'm leaving" > And he just... doesn't know what to do b/c this has been happening a lot and it's NOT STOPPING.........