#anyway I think I need to literally chew on something and it will fix me

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

I started playing this new code breaking game for funsies, and it isn't as much like real code breaking because:

It's annoying as shit and plays ads even if you start guessing correct letters too quickly [punishing success]

It tells you immediately if you guess a letter wrong, has a 3 strike system and no way of notating theoretical letters so it's both harder and easier that actual code breaking in various ways [harder because any wrong guess or accidental button press means watching stupid fucking ads that I want to light on fire]

I'm not sure if having set themes to work from during events makes it leaps easier, or if not knowing common media and quotes makes it harder, but it giving you a few letters to start off def seems like easy mode, I want a dark mode and there is no dark mode... I mean the colour the app is very bright it's like all white.

But letter frequency and other 'techniques' still apply, like your most common letters are prone to being e t n and a, and there are ways to figure out whether a single letter word is I or A, etc...

Anyway I'm disabled so if I have a day where I can't do much but be on my phone, there's nothing to stop me from solving puzzles all day unless the brain fog is hitting hard

So there was an event with ranking like there are in a lot of games and as usual I expected not to even place, as usual, because I am doing this for fun and I don't tend to play mobile games all that much, I'm not even 'good' at them the way someone would be if they just did it daily... Like my grandmother does the daily newspaper puzzles way faster than me because she does them daily and that's what most mobile games are like for me when I play them, I just have no practice.

And then I accidentally won the tournament, in first place, out-lapping the second place person [score something like 2000 when other people were mostly under 300, I think second place was around 500-700 ish?], because I was solving the puzzles while watching supernatural and wanted to finish the -unrelated- seasonal event puzzles so that I could ignore the rest of the event for the remaining days without missing the puzzles, and -apparently- all the event puzzles count towards your ranking and not just the main ones on the app? It gave me a bunch of in-game tokens or keys or whatever I don't even think I'm going to use?? [sorry]... Imagine some new guy blows in and just smashes everyone out of the lead in 3 days right at the end of the challenge. The worst part is I don't even use the hints. I almost quit 20 times just because of the fucking ads [got distracted playing a few]. I would like to personally apologize the the people in second and third but especially 4th place who probably expected that ranking not to budge and probably actually cared and actually wanted the prize, if it makes you feel any better I have no life.

I've only been playing the game for 6 days. But like, I do real code breaking sometimes for fun?

My brain needs something to do that's of some higher value and challenge than fake code breaking games, but my only jobs right now are seasonal 'gathering' and resting. I can't even get into most of my hobbies until I get my apartment better put together.

This is me going stir crazy... Just solving puzzles all day until I want to resort to arson [against the ads]... I need something to chew on but media is not holding my interest [joy is stored in the nothing, I yearn]. Maybe I'll stream a game again soon. Maybe the next zero dawn game will go on sale. Maybe we'll play Mass Effect?

Anyway, I want to design a code breaking game that's better, and I have some suggestions for mobile ads to make them more effective and less annoying.

I've tried a number of simple mobile puzzle games I just uninstalled within a day because they were too fucking annoying. Like most of them are designed with inevitable fail states that force you to watch ads constantly to keep playing at all, making it so fucking tedious and obnoxious and unsatisfying. I think they expect you not to notice that it isn't a lack of skill responsible for you failing but is instead designed into the game. I think they are targeting mostly children and people who don't know better to make ad revenue.

When my life gets better put together I think I'm just going to develop mobile games for practice and make them cheap af or free and not have ads. I can code and do the graphics so why tf not. Like imagine decoding for days on end and getting to read something fun or solve a cool mystery with actual code breaking techniques and there's cool graphics and no annoying ads.

[energon-depo]

WOOO HOO CHARACTER ANALYSIS TIME this is about how optimus sees smokescreen n jack :)

(btw this my first analysis) ANYWAYS LET'S GO

just a heads up this is a LONG LONG POST to get ready! also i HAVENT SEEN THE ENDING OF PRIME YET

okay remember when ratchet said "optimus wasn't always before he was a prime -he was more like jack" AND REMEMBER HOW HE GAVE HIM THE MARTIX KEY? yeah optimus's sees a lot of former self in jack. he CLEARLY DOES same with smokescreen! the first time we saw smokescreen we knew he was a strategist, and prime knew that aswell. when smokey told him he was under the guidance of prime's MENTOR? yeah optimus knew both of them were destined for great things. all they did needed was guidance and maturity. because BOTH did something stupid that was motivated by brashness, remember when Jack was beefing with a bully? he was being immature, BUT he apologized! he took fault for his actions! same with smokey, remember when he took jack(best bros) with him to a mission? yeah well he did and he was sorry! he even apologized to acree directly knowing he scared her the most with that stunt! he didn't even blame jack for going with(he could've, and jack would have gladly took the blame)BUT HE DIDNT! these two know when their wrong and will IMMEDIATELY backpedal if they hurt anyone of their family physically or emotionally! AND THIS IS WERE WE COME TO OPTIMUS! prime knows those two have their heart and spark in the right place, heck! smokey is literally destiny's child. prime REALLY REALLY REALLY sees his former self in these two. and he treated them as EQUALS to team prime not a human child, not a rookie soldier.(could also go for how he treats miko and raf aswell, he sees their potential. miko's high comparison for other's and raf's talent in tech) so when prime gave jack the "ground bridge key"(the matrix key thing), he was confident that jack will not only keep it safe but also figure out what to do with it when the time comes. if he'd given it to let's say acree she would've probably denied it, said ratchet is a better fit due to the fact she has knowledge about it's real purpose. the OTHER reason why he gave it to jack is because; he's a kid, a Human kid, he doesn't know it's real properties. his thoughts were "optimus gave me an important job to keep the ground bridge key safe, with me. I can't let him down" It's his first real solo task! heck he even said "shouldn't ratchet have this?" but prime assured him its his task to bare. as for smokescreen? prime was THIS CLOSE to giving him the matrix. when he was in the worst shape possible and losing hope, he's (nearly) dying words was bestowing smokey with the matrix. smokescreen kept refusing he CAN'T be a prime, if he was a prime that mean optimus is dead and he doesn't want optimus to die, he's his leader, his idol, his hero. he already went out of order with coming back, and he brought optimus the forge of solang(i think? i forgot it's name it the yellow hammer) he's train of thought was "get the hammer from the cons, give to prime, prime fixes himself and its all good!"when optimus told him "the hammer must be used to fix the omega locks -the life of one is not important as the lives of many"[paraphrasing]. smokescreen stuck with his gut, his original train of thought and his compassion for his (found)family. he went out of order again putting the hammer in prime's hand REFUSING that this is the end for Optimus prime. he was rewarded with ya know prime coming back and not dying and practically saving earth basically average day for the goat smokey. i would like to also mention when smokescreen was getting chewed out by acree, prime was trying to get her to stop(no hate towards the based queen acree btw she's awesome) and when smokey stormed off he let him leave, knowing he had some reflecting he needed to do. ALSO when jack backed down from team prime, he understood that, he was upset of course he gotten attached to those humans, but he respected his opinion and didn't force him at all.

Moral of the story prime is best dad, jack and smokey are bros4life and prime team is best family(cheers)

[tojivu]

# OFFICE HOURS ‣ GOJO SATORU

✰ — author’s note i feel so guilty bc gojo is literally the only character i write for LOL anyway this is an old draft from months ago. idk why this is so long im so horrendously down bad for this fucking snowman.

✰ — cw / tags arrogant ceo!gojo x secretary f!reader, sfw, not rly enemies to lovers bc gojo has fat feelings, gojo satoru being a billionaire playboy

✰ — playing death & taxes by daniel caesar.

✰ — word count ~3k LOL

nothing about gojo satoru really strikes you as the serious type.

even in a professional environment, your boss always has a carefree demeanour. his laugh is so nauseatingly loud that you can hear it from outside the office, and you wonder how someone as busy as him manages through his day; much less with a positive attitude. you take one look at his schedule, and you want to vomit with the way you hardly see any gaps between appointments.

you suppose you could learn that from him. it's his only good quality.

you admit that he's likeable, on surface level. there's a reason why you detest him, though: as his closest colleague, you know him way more than you would prefer. most people would think such a well to do man like satoru would have a wife by his side, but that's unfortunately not the case. you almost feel more miserable than him—because now you're forced to be the listening ear and comforting hand at his beck and call.

you think he'd be just fine if he was just a little more humble. he has a nice face. it's his fault for being so stuck up. you know how many women ask him out—painfully aware, actually.

'they just aren't suited to my taste,' he would say to you. 'i need someone that makes me feel alive.'

one time, gojo even asked you to bail him out of a date—something about the way she held her fork and knife disturbed him, and you were expected to show up at the restaurant and act as if there was an emergency.

'i'm so sorry, sweetheart. i have to go, duty calls.' his disgustingly charming tone made you want to slap him then and there.

she called him again the following week, and he completely forgot who she was. he didn't even save her number.

the sheer number of people asking him out had stroked his ego so hard that gojo firmly believes no woman is deserving enough. he rambles on and on to you about how snobby some of them seem, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue when he does. 'takes one to know one,' you would say, if not for your job at stake.

you think gojo satoru is full of himself. you are a strong believer of that. a witness, as well—it's not like he didn't try his way with you, too. unlike the women he ranted about, you turned him down every single time.

it's been a long while since any of that has happened, though. the most recent ordeal was months ago, but that didn't inherently mean that people stopped asking him out: it just meant that he was rejecting every single offer.

it's a thursday morning when you find yourself eating a sandwich you purchased on the way to work, at your desk—wondering when the big boss will finally arrive. the clock read 9 a.m., and you're expecting an extravagant "good morning!" to surprise you any moment now.

just then, you notice mr. conceited walk in: except something is different. he has no stride in his step. there was no good morning. there was no playful teasing directed at you as he walked past your desk and into his office, not that you were complaining—it was just strange.

you stand up, a mouthful of your sandwich still being chewed. you take a big sip of water and fix your skirt and blouse, making sure your hair is presentable—before swiftly making your way into his office.

──────

"i cannot believe this." he mumbles. you're standing in front of his desk, but he's not facing your direction.

gojo's chair is turned to the giant window that overlooks the business district, and he's gazing out of it thoughtfully. you think this is the cheesiest thing you've seen him do.

you can see how disheveled his hair was, even from where you were standing. you don't want to irritate him further, in case teasing you was still on his to-do list that day.

"what is it, mr. gojo?"

he swivels his chair around, and he is a mess—just what could have he been up to?

"i woke up late today."

"you're the boss, mr. gojo. you can come in any time you want—"

"not the point." he interrupts you. "i forgot my lunch. i was in the car, with the driver, on the way here already. . . and then i realised i left my donuts at home."

gojo's face is absolutely distraught. he looks like he's gone through a divorce and had his house set on fire with how he stands up dramatically—his hands now on his desk. you open your mouth to speak, but he shuts you up by talking again.

"i didn't want to inconvenience him. i'm too thoughtful, miss y/n."

you want to scoff, but you bite your tongue and hold back.

"so i got out of the car and ran back for it," gojo recounts. "i arrived home after the treacherous journey—only to discover that my donuts are gone."

you feign an expression of shock, just to humour him; he gives you an 'i know right' look, and continues his nonsensical story.

"the maids threw them away, miss y/n."

you can't help yourself: you let a small giggle slip through your lips. you quickly use your hand to cover your mouth, thinking of a quick excuse.

you cough. you pretend to, at least—but gojo satoru is not stupid.

no, maybe a little. though, not enough to be convinced of your terrible acting.

"nothing about this is funny."

you nod, looking down at the floor. "i apologise, mr. gojo, but it's just a few donuts. i'm sure someone in the office could fetch some for you."

"yes, i agree." he says, and you shift your gaze from the marble tiling of his office to his face. his hair is a mess, yes—but he still looks revoltingly handsome. his eyes are piercing through yours, and pieces of hair cover his face in just the right places.

you're staring a little too long and gojo finds his pulse quickening with the eye contact—but the spell he has you under is soon broken when he clears his throat.

you quickly look away, embarrassed that you were caught staring at your boss, by your boss.

"you'll pick some up for me, yeah?" his smooth and silky voice echoes through the empty space of his office.

you look at him again, and there's a gentle smile on his face; one you're all too familiar with.

you're aware of satoru's charismatic nature, his playboy-ish attitude, and all sorts of tricks he uses to make women fall head over heels for him. that didn't mean you were completely resistant to them, though—you find yourself playing with the sleeves of your blouse, your ears beginning to redden. "of course," is all you manage to say.

at least you were self-aware.

your mind was rational. should gojo satoru try to hit on you for the nth time—all it took was some self discipline to say no, and you'd like to think you had plenty.

you think the conversation is done with the way he doesn't speak another word, so you turn on your heels and make your way out of the office.

just as you touch the handle of the door, your boss adds: "i'll come with you."

you turn back to him, confused. you didn't need your boss babysitting you for a donut run, you knew his favourite flavours—it's all he ever insists on buying for lunch. "there's no need for that, mr. gojo."

satoru shakes his head in disapproval. "you don't even know my favourite flavours, miss y/n."

that was a blatant lie. he knew you knew. you were his personal donut grabber for a few months up until august, and it was only october. you suppose that it would've continued on if not for your complaints about the long lines in the morning.

nevertheless, you don't argue with him. gojo satoru was the type to get what he wants, when he wants, if he really wants it.

you smile at his disregard for the months you spent as his errand runner, and how idiotic the excuse he just used was. satoru knows he's lying through his teeth, and your smile makes him more nervous than your eye contact.

so nervous, in fact, that he takes back what he just said. "unless. . . you're fine by yourself."

you're surprised that gojo's confidence is dissipating, or that it could even fade at all. you can tell with the way he's avoiding your eye contact, exactly how you evaded his earlier—the red on the tips of his ears are much too obvious in contrast to his hair.

"i don't mind," you respond a bit too quicker than appropriate. "mr. gojo."

gojo curses himself mentally, thinking about how stupid he must sound. he's usually the one making people nervous, but he doesn't know why it's different when you look at him like that.

──────

the atmosphere is deafening in gojo's favourite bakery. you always knew he had a sweet tooth, so you expected his choice to be a spectacular one—and you weren't disappointed.

you had personally visited this bakeshop before, and the confectionery was truly as good as people made it out to be; it proved evident in the amount of people crammed into this small establishment. though, you can't tell if it was for the food or for your boss, with the way most pairs of eyes are turned in his direction.

you two spend a good five seconds looking at the menu before gojo states his order, which was exactly what you thought it would be—the lady at the cashier smiles a bit too long at satoru, before asking: "eating in?"

you want to open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to it. "of course."

it was still very well your work day. he (or maybe you and him, considering you helped him plan seventy percent of his appointments) had a meeting in 3 hours to prepare for. you think this donut adventure is already unnecessary enough—but here he is, suggesting to waste even more time eating the donuts in the bakery itself.

"we have a meeting in a bit, though. you could eat it in your office."

he looks at you with a confused look, as if he forgot that there was a meeting at all—because he did forget. gojo gasps, turning back to the lady and retracting his previous statement.

──────

gojo eats his donuts agonisingly slow and no conversation is initiated.

you're alternating between staring at both your laptops and the swirls on the wooden desk, unable to say anything because you didn't plan for such an occasion: an eating donuts with your admittedly handsome boss that makes you nervous while simultaneously planning for an important meeting occasion.

"miss y/n, you should try some."

you shift your eyes from the table to gojo, and he's holding a small piece of his donut to your lips: the powdered sugar practically calling your name.

"it's fine, i ate earlier," you decline his generous offer. "you should eat."

"i'm not asking you to eat all of them, miss y/n." he smiles at you. "just a bite. it's really good, y'know."

you sigh, reaching for his hand to take it from him—but he swiftly pulls it away and shakes his head. "open your mouth."

you feel the tips of your ears burning, blood rushing to your cheeks and you wonder how the girls he takes out manage themselves when he's like this—you've worked with him for so long, yet you can't recall a time when his gaze wouldn't make you shudder.

you think you'd stutter if you spoke one more word to him, so you save yourself from the embarrassment and bare with his request.

he feeds you the piece of sugar-coated donut, and you're sure you have powder on the corners of your lips with how it's width barely fits into your mouth.

you chew and swallow, feeling the residue of sugar on your skin.

"do you have any tissues?" you ask him, a serious expression plastered onto your face.

gojo tries to suppress the chuckle itching to escape his throat—the sugar on your lips and cheeks catch him off guard, and after a few seconds he can't help but let a small laugh slip. you stand up from your chair, scanning the room for any boxes of tissues you could lay your hands on.

he stands up as well, shaking his head—still giggling.

"it's not funny," you frown, and the smile on his face only grows wider—you're too cute for your own good when you sulk. "stop laughing."

you're not sure if you want to punch him or let him giggle to himself. for some reason, seeing you embarrassed is a great cause of joy to him. you can't bring yourself to tell him to shut up; you always imagine doing just that, it's strange how you couldn't muster the courage just when you needed it most.

"it's quite funny," gojo's laughter eventually calms down.

he leans closer to you and his right hand gently holds the side of your jaw—he uses his thumb to gently wipe the sugar off your cheek, and then your lips. "i got it."

his thumb stays on your bottom lip after dusting the sugar away. his pupils are locked onto the surface of your lips, which were glossy in the harsh light of his office: they looked so soft.

before long, they trail up your face until he's looking directly into your eyes: and this time you're not nervous, you don't look away, and your heart is completely calm.

satoru's fingers are easy on your skin. he handles you like fragile glass, as if he doesn't want to break you: and it's the same for the way he looks at you. gentle.

you're reluctant to speak because the way satoru has his thumb on your bottom lip sends shivers down your spine. you feel breathless.

you don't want this feeling to leave, not just yet.

a few seconds of tension pass. his hand moves back to your jaw, and your nervousness returns when gojo satoru leans his tall figure even closer to you; his head tilting ever so slightly.

it's a random thursday morning when you discover a few more good qualities gojo satoru possesses: his lips and his hands. maybe the way he kisses, too—it's slow and precise, unlike his attitude. he tastes sickeningly sweet and it makes you want to savour this moment even more.

you promised yourself you wouldn't fall victim to gojo satoru. yet, you just can't pull away: instead finding yourself slithering your arms around his neck and your chest pressing against his.

gojo's hands are wandering down to your waist and he's desperate to have you as close to him as possible, showing in the way he tries to close the already small gap between you two.

it takes only a fraction of a second for a small thought to form in your mind: just how many women have been in this position?

you quickly forget about that thought, though—you think it's pointless to regret it now, gojo satoru kisses you too good to be full of remorse.

gojo thinks he could stay like this: kiss you all morning, afternoon and pay you overtime if it meant he could be this close to you for just a bit longer.

there's hints of neediness in gojo's touch—as if he'd been waiting for this forever, wanting to relish it before it ends. his few seconds of bliss don’t last very long though, because you're soon pulling away—gasping for air.

he sighs mockingly, his hands sliding down from your waist to your hips. "can't last longer than 10 seconds, miss y/n?"

of course he would say some cocky shit like that—you'd forgotten for a minute that this was the same, arrogant mr. gojo you always knew, and no kiss (however heavenly) was going to change that.

"i'm sorry that i don't go on dates with every man that breathes."

gojo smirks at you after you say those words. "come on. just because i go on dates with people, doesn't mean i kiss them like this."

"sure you don't." your jealousy shows a bit too much in your reply, and he finds himself smiling even harder.

"is someone jealous?" he teases you again, rubbing circles with his thumb against the flesh of your hips.

you feel flustered, knowing that you're definitely done for now—he saw right through you. "nobody is jealous, mr. gojo."

"stop it with the formality. just call me satoru."

"it's still office hours. it's only polite."

gojo rolls his eyes, sighing in the process. you grin a little at him, knowing that this was the first thing you denied him of today—complying with the donuts and the kissing was already spoiling him enough.

"then i suppose there's only after work," there's his nauseatingly charming voice again—low and smooth. he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and you know it too. "i'm off after 6."

you think long and hard about whether you want to be mean and add this to the list of things you've declined to do for him. the ratio was starting to get really unbalanced—but you remember the way his hands touch you and how his lips greet yours so lovingly: and you think that there's no point turning back now.

"my boss doesn't let me off until after 8, though." you try to poke at his buttons—you put on a fake pout, knowing you’ll accept his invitation anyway—but gojo satoru is eternally patient when it came to things he sincerely desired.

"fuck your boss." he says, "he'll be fine with it."

you laugh at his response. you never thought you would see the day gojo curses at himself, after all, he's so self-obsessed: but you suppose you've seen—and tasted—parts of him that you never knew existed.

"then i'll see you at 6, mr. gojo."

what was the harm in discovering more?

230323 — i kinda hate this but.. wtv… anyway i couldn’t be bothered to proofread have my brainrot of gojo in a suit Mmmm yumyum

[brineoffire]

Uuuuuuh hi, hi howdy! I've been super possessed by the need to see more male centered fics with the poly!141 soooo here's a bit. I honestly haven't played the games, but I've been looking into the lore because I'm so hyper fixed on the 141 rn. Bare with me, I haven't posted fics here before and definitely never written army anything. Please please please lemme know if you like it even a lil and I'll type up some more.

Fic notes!

So I saw someone talking about a reader who's in it for the money and I liked that idea- tweaked it a little but the basic jist? Mc loves vidio games so much they went to school for it, can't pay, joins the military to pay it all off. I'm writing this chapter ambiguous on gender so far, but I'm writing with a trans!masc reader here because fuck. I can't find much so better make it myself.

-Edit I forgot to put the title here rip

The Right Price

You can't help but stop to think about how you needed to stop biting off more then you can chew. It's been a few months since your recruiter told you all about the joys, wonder, and honor that comes with serving. You where in the second she told you about the pay. Too many student loans, too much microwave ramen, the list went on, but fuck it yeah? You where the one that said that in the first place when you signed up for your courses. The basics, programming, coding, digital design a bit of physiology because of personal interest. You where over the top when it came to studies. Didn't bother you none when you couldn't have a social life. If you weren't busy studying you where quite literally inhaling any game you could get your hands on. But now when you had to fork over the bill money? You started singing another tune.

So here you are. On the training grounds with the rest of the folks recruited at the same time as you.Your sargent was barking out orders for you all to start your runs one by one, but some smart ass was holding up the line. You actually agreed with half the shit he barked back at the your troop leader, but damn it, you didn't want the consequences.

"That's it! You wanna run your mouth? You can all run double to catch up with Marco's mouth! Now!" He yelled white fisted. The remaining lot of your groan and grumble, starting the run together now at double time to hopefully finish before lunch call. Seven miles was what you had all gotten used to. Seven miles of uneven terrain, hurdles and dives, inclines and ramps now lengthened to fourteen.

"Oh fuck off Marco!" One of the recruit remarks, smacking said recuit behind the head before taking off on a spint. Several others join in on mocking the guy before bolting trying to get it over with. You shake your head as you catch up to him and clap him on the shoulder.

"They'll chill out later man just gotta grit and bare it more y'know?" Marco yanks was shoulder away from you, giving you a nasty glare before taking off too. You raise your brow at that, curious to what set him off before shrugging, taking the course at your normal pace with a hand full of the others. Better late then fatiged. The little spat dosn't bother you anyway. You'll all be split into your first teams in less then a week. You doubt he'd even be grouped with you anyways.

Oh how wrong you where. How very. Very. Wrong. It was actually laughable at this point, because you where either grouped together because your Sargent knew you got under Marco's skin for some reason or because fate wanted to see the drama unfold. You took that as a personal challenge either way. Snapping back snarky retorts anytime Marco decided to fuck around, until one day he had you cornered with a handful of others, in your face yelling about how "your kind" didn't belong in the military let alone the states. You let him finish his rant. Something, something, something, God damned, something, something, blight all the good christians, something, something, belong in the kitchen like a proper bitch.

Oh. Okay. There it was. You laugh in your head. No. Outloud. You flip the positions, getting uncomfortably close to the fuckers so they back off some and spout of some tibits you learned in your phycology classes about the brain being easy to manipulate. Quiet anger radiating from your low tone, keeping it quiet to force them to listen harder. You throw in some extra bs about how you could probably "turn" the lot of them given enough time. That them speaking more shit would be an agreement for him to test his theory. They back off after that, but report you all at once for "harassment". There being no evidence for anything you're transfered to one of the other split groups. Half made up of people you didn't enlist with. Mabey this crop would yeild better results yeah?

Nah. You jinxed it. You know you did. Oh well. This time it's just one guy though. And all it takes is a bit of reverse phycology to have the guy questioning his own damn identity so bad he's sent to the on duty therapist. You're transfered out this time by a different woman. Laswell. She heard out your full story of your transfers and unlike your last transfer she gave you a garentee that she'd make sure to find a good fit for you. You shrug and thank her. No matter what you had to tough it out anyways, you needed that pay check after all. Had no where else to go.

It goes sour when you head with her to a base near Wales. You where supposed to go talk to her about setting up here overseas for a while. Something about spreading out more newbies anyways. You really don't understand half of it so you just agree and you're off to training on this base. As long as you're here you're expected to keep up with basics and the routine set by the Sargents and that's fine by you, whatever to pass the time at this point. They run a drill with half the team ment to run a faux attack on half the base and the rest made to counter. You're getting prepared to counter the fake attack when alarm bells are ringing. That's definitely a little over the top. Usually they just yell over the loudspeakers and... You kinda blink a few times before you realize your group of rookies is being pressed to the armory. It's not a fucking drill at this point. This is NOT what you came here for but, oh fuck here you go! You've played too many games for sure. Mabey it's time to cut back. Because you're immediately focused. Immediately setting up the scene in your head to get you in a headspace where it's all a game. It helps you focus and damn you really need help with that right now.

There's active rounds being fired a ways away from the base as you all are suited with gear and munitions. You've trained for this but damn if you ever thought you'd ACTUALLY use any of that shit. You always imagined it was for show, like how you never use any of the fucking math they taught you anywhere.

You're moving on a sort of autopilot, moving out to a defensive manuver outside, staying under cover like you're told until your unit arrives halfway out, between the fighting and the base. It's impossible to see much past a thick smoke blanketing half the scene but you all move out, groups of three fanning out for any injuries and more importantly, any hostiles. You and your group are about to get to your second vantage point when you catch something they don't, you call out a group of several hostiles over what looks like a member of the base before realizing there's radio static.

Fuck it. Risking your life might score you some bonus merit, some extra cash somewhere along the line, you don't know. You're just trying to rationalize why the hell you bolt for the man, keeping low, keeping quiet until your almost upon them all. You get close enough to make out the British insignia on the man's arm. You've definitely seen him on the base before, and now here he is, no weapon in sight, surrounded by four hostiles. You slow your approach and aim carefully, making sure to get the kill shot on one of them, the spray of bullets catching another in the arm gives you enough time to aim for one of the other ones. You've definitely played too many vidio games but you're damn sure that's what kept you from being shot on your first unofficial day of active duty. You roll. Fucking barrel roll on the ground, with enough force to get you away from the spray of bullets from the last uninjured hostile as you stop yourself and make the shot on him. Dumb luck is what you chalk it up to as the fourth guy falls, letting you finish off the second man as he scrambles to retrieve his weapon.

"Up! Up! UP!" You yell to the man on the ground. You don't notice the look of utter confusion from the guy as you rush to help him to his feet. You've gotta get him back to base or at least the rest of the team and out of harms way. So you sprint as fast as you can as soon as the man's up, keeping to your side as you keep an eye out for anyone else hostile or otherwise. You try your radio again, but nothing you backtrack enough to find the spot you last saw your little team and find them under fire, one covering a wound on the others arm, panicking. You're quick to take over, playing out the scene in the same mind set you started out with. Mission in mind. Quest line to follow. You snap the other guy out of it enough to instruct him on how to stop the bleeding properly and grab the injured mans weapon from him, shoving it into the man's hands and directing him to cover you. Again, your oblivious to the look of pure confusion from the man and your uninjured teammate as you work to bandage up your fellow recruit.

You all make it out in one peice, the base being cleared of the small force that attempted to overtake the base. What you don't learn, and no one bothers to tell you. Is that the man you "saved", Captain John Price, has been talking with Laswell. Not so much talking with her as TO her. Your in it for money? Perfect you'd definitely agree to join the 141 with the pay difference.

"John you can't fucking do that. This kid is green. Way too fucking green! They weren't even supposed to be pulled into active duty! They should have been benched with the newer recuits, not out with their seniors!"

Price laughs and shakes his head. "No. This one's got potential and I wana see how far it'll take em." He was impressed by how some rookie was able to show enough guts to help him when the odds looked bad. He had everything under control, but damn if your actions weren't something interesting. Rolling out of line of fire and still keeping a steady aim? That's quite the task, he boasts for you. Hell, you didn't even think twice about Price's rank or authority, your focused was on recovery and living while taking out the hostiles. As much as Laswell regrets to say there's not much reason to deny Price. His eye for talent really was spot on. What could go wrong in all actuality? She trusted Price, and hasn't let her down yet.

"Fine. But I'm keeping a close eye on this set up."

Price grins as he looks down at your small folder, thanking her and flipping through the pages again. Tomorrow you'd be flying out with him to your new base. Joining the 141 as a tech specialist.

[moonshynecybin]

[regarding my latest Rosquez and because the idea came when I saw your tags on that text post] Austria 2023 (10th GP of the season, first Sunday race Marc finished last year), Marc going to Vale on Sunday night and asking him for something to smoke (“Oh, come on, don’t make this face, you’re Valentino Rossi, of course you can get whatever you want wherever we are in the World”)

Anyway, they end up sitting next to each other, passing the blunt back and forth in silence until Marc says “Everyone’s making a huge deal of the fact I finally finished a race on a Sunday but the only reason I finished is because I didn’t push. Not pushing put me P12. I don’t race to finish 12th.”

Valentino also asks him if he’s started thinking about his options and Marc chuckles, asks him “Why? You’re offering me a job?” and Valentino laughs, half-evades the question with something like “You deserve a good bike, everybody deserves to see you at your best”.

If Marc gets cold, I think there is a chance that Valentino wraps his arm around his back.

Marc does not let his head fall againt Valentino’s shoulder.

marc genuinely not knowing where to get weed and going to valentino is so funny… save me dirtbag… save meeee

i think marc going to vale is also insane in this context bc marc was crashing alllll the fucking time then like notably more than usual not even finishing races just a miserable time. and then he goes FINE i will have to be content with mediocrity bc constantly crashing like that isn’t sustainable, but he’s also probably so MAD and frustrated about it bc he’s never been content with mediocrity in his life!!! so like. marc is most likely in an insane headspace here wrt his overly competitive little brain. truly i think the way he sees it, his two options are both intolerable: injury or mediocrity. because winning is not an option. hell world. leaving for gresini but not quite ready to let go world.

so he’s like. keyed up here. anxious and trapped results-wise in a situation that is just as painful as his arm injury but for entirely different reasons. and going to vale about it is insane bc divorce but! i could see him being desperate and not being popular or comfy enough in the paddock to know literally anyone else with drugs (and anyone else that he is a. in love with and b. able to relate to about specific ass sporting woes. literally you can’t fix this one with a surgeon buddy you need the DOCTOR.) so he reaches out again like he so often does…

HOWEVER !! i think this situation is also fucking BANANAS from vale’s emotional standpoint. like even outside of being his nemesis’s weed supplier (truly i think some part of him is like GOD okay needs to chill out so fine i’ll give him some pot. like perhaps no one else on earth has needed a hit more), it’s crazy in the context of vale’s myriad theoretical complexes about marc’s riding style. like. insane for him.

so it’s going fine until marc brings it up to him maybe after a few puffs. they’re like loose with weed and giggly (and a little unconsciously handsy. somehow marc’s head IS on vale’s shoulder but that’s just bc it’s cold and he fits there. and weed. no other reason dwai.) and!! maybe vale is relaxing into it. letting marc lean back against him and remembering how uncomplicated this can be. thinking about marc’s pink cheeks that first time he took a hit off of vale’s joint back in 2014, and how he’d teased vale for thinking he would cough. but marc shifts a bit, chewing on his cheek, clearly working through some residual stress. and he brings it all up bc he needs advice about his dogshit situation and vale is literally the only yardstick he will EVER measure himself with, but vale reads it as him almost like. asking vale for absolution concerning his riding habits and the risks he takes. which is something vale at this point can under no circumstances give him. because he’s stillllllll terrified he’s going to lose marc. so he pulls away and marc’s side is suddenly cold and it implodes from there…

[generalluxun]

Ya know I think I finally keyed in on something that often nettles me with some stories where Chloe either confronts Ladybug but gets checked, gets chewed out by Ladybug for her behavior in general or finds out she's Marinette go.

IE, either Chloe is upset about how LB handles/handled her in one way or another and gets a talking to. Or she finds out the truth and is overwhelmed by gratitude.

The thing is though, while I can maybe see the characters having these kinds of feelings, it feels a bit off when the narrative seems to go along with it too much.

Mostly because it feels kind of like it draws too strong a parallels between "Is kind of a dick" and "deserves to be in danger & to be largely disregarded."

Like, it took until Season 2 for Marinette to have enough of a heroic game face to even say "No not even Chloe deserves to be fed to the zombie hordes."

As said, I get why the characters might be upsets, she does hurtful or frustrating things. Sometimes she can be detrimental to the plot, though other times she can be quite helpful too. But like, at the end of the day, if the narrative, yes in the show but also in fics, feels like it backs that frustration up it feels skewed to me.

Low key in this regard Derision would almost be helpful, but meh.

Like, say Chloe finds out Marinette's identity post S3 and goes to angrily confront her about the whole "A supervillain was targeting me. You knew this & not only used me anyway but took away my one means of self defense, ETC" thing.

A counter along the lines of "Well you can be kind of an asshole and I don't like you" makes Marinette feel super petty given the scale Chloe's problems are operating on compared to the local jerk being rude to you.

I'm not aiming to minimize Marinette or other characters legitimately hurt feelings. Especially because they are fourteen ETC as well, so expecting them to be perfect is unfair. As said this is more of a narrative issue I guess. It feels like authors lack self awareness if they feel the conflict between real danger and being jerk are the same.

Does this make sense? How would you square such a confrontation if you were writing it?

I mean *waves at Chasing a Dream* I kind of did that, didn't I? The confrontation I mean.

What lots of people forget is that Marinette is not *just* a 14 yr old girl. She's both a hero and a protagonist. The themes of ML should have her trying to achieve good outcomes for everyone. The show *literally* has a reset power to be sure that there is no collateral.

It is *possible* to let Marinette be petty in the moment, to let her get a catharsis, but if she doesn't feel bad about it later and try to fix things then you aren't writing Marinette, you are writing revenge fantasy. -Which if you want to write that, go shead it's your story. It's just best to call a pot a pot.-

How the confrontation would go down would depend on so many things. You would need to give me a setup for me to answer 'How would you write it' 😁

Heck I even have it somewhat hallen in my current fic, Barren Soil, (no ID reveal) but since neither are PoV characters it isn't as spelled out.

[coveofsecrets]

“𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚔𝚊 𝚂𝚑𝚒𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚗”

-> My interpretation of Chika Shihoin

-> Warnings: Mentions of murder, small TYBW spoilers, I’m basically rambling and screaming about him I love him so much

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

RAJHHHHHHH I FUCKING LOVE THIS MAN SO MICH-

Anyways

I need to

Chew this man and shake him around Y’ALL DO NOT UNDERSTAND MY FUCKING LOVE FOR HIM

Y’ALL DO NOT

Okok back to serious shit

If any of these hcs seem eerily similar to @boquetofblades Chika that’s bc it’s MY BLOG bc I LOVE THIS MAN

SK MUCH

Okok gonna lock in fr

In my interpretation of him, Chika’s the 10th heir of the Shihoin clan. The reason why I say he’s not the first is because of how general lifespans are in Bleach. Tbh, I don’t know how the FUCK they work but I know they’re long as hell- so I don’t think he’d be the first- especially when the Blood War happened like

A bunch of years ago??? I’m not sure, and like, lifespans r p long thennnnn

Yeahhh

ANWYAYS!!

But anyways

In my interpretation, he was the 10th Shihoin heir before he became the 2nd Division captain- and he’s also the black sheep of the family, and f or a good reason

Bros a fucking ✨ murderer ✨

He’s infamous for the huge amount of bodies he’s racked up in his time, which is why Yamamoto recruited him

And honestly, Chika wrnt right along with it!!! Not to defend Soul Society, hell no, hes just wants to have fun!!!! He wants to be entertained!!!

He’s just silly like that!!! (<- a literal war criminal)

And the job was really entertaining for him. Not only did he get to see the fear, the anger, the determination crossing peoples’ faces in their last moments- it’s so fun to see their expressions, their body language, and what exactly they do in their final moments.

Not only that, but his team mates. His captain.

They’re nothing like the people he’s met before.

Just like him, they all want a cure for their thirst of blood- they don’t shy away from it, they’re nothing like his family, who just look the other way when he’s doing what he wants, already given up on trying to fix him.

So, he’s having fun with his teammates!! Even if they’re not having fun with him (except for Danjiro. He’s nice!), Chika still wants to spend time with them!

Nobody likes Chika though. What a loser.

Mainly it’s because nobody can tell what he really means.

He says something like ‘let’s be friends!’ Or ‘don’t be so formal with me!’, but the way he says it… it’s like there’s something behind it.

Something… unsettling. Something dark, something telling you that you can’t trust what he’s saying.

It’s like whenever he talks to you, he’s not trying to befriend you, but gain information out of you. Scrutinize you, like a jaguar scrutinizing if a small animal is good to go after or not.

He’s uncanny as hell.

The more vigilant members of Soul Society typically tend to avoid him, keeping conversations short and quick, wrapping it up as fast as possible.

The less vigilant ones often fall into his words, looking at him as genuienly friendly and making the conversations long, happy that their captain/superior is friendly.

He doesn’t… do anything to those he has long conversation with, to those who divulge more information than he should.

He doesn’t harm them, nor blackmail them.

He’s just… weird.

Anyways!!!

After the blood war, he was appointed the first head of the Onmitsukidō by Yamamoto, and he also rarely fights with his Zanpakuto!!! Sometimes, Chika forgets it even exists, leading him to have a poor bond with it, and take very bad care with it.

(Somewhere, a certain Zanpakuto maker is in pain because of this)

Speaking of Chika’s memory!!!

It isn’t bad, tbh. Like he’s got good memory.

He’s just selective.

For whatever he finds interesting, he makes sure to note and store, remembering it for hundreds of years!!

But whatever he doesn’t find interesting, Chika just

Throws away

He don’t care

If you’re not interesting to him, he won’t remember you. He may act like he knows you, pretending to know what you two talked about yesterday, but really, he doesn’t remember you.

He’s just good at acting.

He also created Shunkō!!! He didn’t perfect it in his time, so the usage of it was very unstable, super destructive, and also harmed Chika too. So, he didn’t use it as much. Sometimes he does it for shits and giggles.

He also strengthened the use of Shunpo.

Chika uses his legs a lot when fighting too

Uhhhhh anyways I think that’s all

Uhm

I’ll

Post something else if I have more thoughts about him

Yippeee 👍🏽

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Guys I love him so much

[ikamigami]

What irks me so badly is that the whole situation with people blaming Sun is nothing new, people often blame the victims and not perpetrators when it comes to situations like this, especially when its family, and especially if the perpetrator is their favorite character, their blorbo, or whatever, completely ignoring the fact that said character is doing awful things, literally they invented the character of Hatsune Miku to make fun of fans like that, who blame Sun for the bad stuff that happens to Moon or OG Eclipse despite the fact that its not Sun's fault, at most Sun makes mistakes because he's often left without help and is so thoroughly traumatized by everything he can't think straight, and I do emphasize mistakes since when has he ever done something out of genuine malice? The closest we get is him hunting OG Eclipse, but Eclipse was a genuine threat gunning for the star, which would make him a god, and who was at-large, needed to be stopped, and Moon…You know, the one solely responsible for Eclipse's existence and if anybody is responsible for Eclipse's treatment it would be Moon…Not taking Eclipse as seriously and not fixing the issue earlier or even following Sun to prevent what ended up happening, and Sun killing Moon was a freak accident that he's only partially responsible for, it's so clear through flashbacks and visits to other universes how utterly broken Sun is compared to his old self, that all this trauma and abuse has turned him into a husk, but he still tries so hard to do the right thing even though nobody helps him or respects him, look at all the times Sun tried to peacefully talk Moon down, support and show his love for Moon, forgive Moon for things he really shouldn't forgive Moon for, try to reason with OG Eclipse, and give it his all trying to be good and prevent disasters that Moon or OG Eclipse were usually the cause of, and yet he's blamed for it all instead of the characters, Moon and OG Eclipse, who caused the disaster to begin with, and blame him for the actions of Monty, Foxy, and Puppet, when Sun spoke out against what they were planning for Moon and those three did it anyways without his consent despite trying to force that choice on him, how can somebody look at a character who's life has been mostly, mostly as there have been good moments but that's the exception not the rule, horror show from the day he came online and has been all but powerless to stop, who despite everything never stops trying to do the right thing even though he has no idea what he's doing and never once used the excuse of "snapping" to act greedy or hurtful, and go "it's their fault" and "he just didn't try hard enough"? And people love to say "Earth disowned Moon" which just isn't true, but Sun was still there trying to convince Moon after that to stop what he was doing and refused to make the decision to end Moon's life even when Puppet threatened him, he even decided he was willing to try this one more time when the old Moon returned! After ALL of this! Also wanted to point out that Sun realizing his relationship with Moon was not great and that he doesn't have to be okay with Eclipse is a good thing, he's finally starting to realize he never deserved being used as the universe's chew toy and that he should not be obligated to adhere to that "blood is thicker than water" nonsense considering how badly he's been treated, it should be celebrated that he realizes after all this time that he wants to not be hurt anymore and doesn't deserve to be hurt anymore, and still note how he still doesn't abandon either Moons, even after everything, despite having every right to never want Moon near him again, he still chooses to stay and try again

You're absolutely right, dear anon.

Sun is always trying his best despite everything he went through and is continuously going through.. and also with the knowledge that he has..

If Sun had better idea to how to stop New Moon he'd definitely do it..

No one helped Sun to deal with New Moon's situation..

When Jack was still looking for New Moon.. Sun went to Monty and Foxy but their ideas just weren't helpful.. this whole idea with Bloodmoon attacking Sun to snap New Moon out of this state was stupid and later ideas of Sun and Moon's "friends" were even worse..

But at least they were trying to find Bloodmoon.. so we can't say that no one was trying to do other things.. but also Sun had to find New Moon so 1) he wouldn't be first to find BM or Ruin and 2) he wouldn't hurt himself because there was a high chance that it could happen..

Another thing is that I don't know if the way NM was locked in that cell can count as a solitary confinement.. but if it is then there's much more bigger issue that people forget about because it's not about their favorite which is..

How NM was treating both Eclipse and Ruin.. especially Ruin who was locked similarly to how Old Moon trapped Sun in magic box - they could'nt move at all - but for far longer..

If fans don't consider Ruin's situation as being in solitary confinement I don't see any damn reason how New Moon was in solitary confinement when he's situation was the best out of the three (counting with Sun)..

New Moon's mental state didn't seemingly worsened.. if showrunners wanted to show how NM's state got worse after being locked they did a poor job with that one.. at least with Sun we saw how much worse his mental state got after spending time in magic box..

Even Sun trying to kill Eclipse I personally don't consider as done out of malice because at least to me Sun was very detached from reality due to major psychotic episode..

Sun wasn't aware that what he was doing was and will cause a lot of harm.. New Moon on the other hand was aware that what he was doing was and is causing a lot of harm..

I mean I get it that he was more aggressive but at the same time NM trying to kill Earth isn't justified at all.. like if you're lashing out and hurt everyone because of your mental issues that's a you problem not anyone else's..

I'm tired of people who justify every awful action just because of mental issues and "scary disorders" because this is what further stigmatize mental disorders.. I wish people aknowledged their shit and own up to it and not pretend that they're the victim in every situation even if they were the one who caused the problem in the first place.. and the worst thing is that we're talking about damn fiction.. about damn fictional characters..

I wish that people who suffer from mental disorders stop excusing everything and blaming everything on their mental disorders.. cause most of the time the real problem is that damn egoism.. and damn egotistic personality.. not mental disorders..

Like I think that New Moon's main problem is his selfishness which caused most of the issues in the first place.. not his mental issues..

I hate when people confuse these things.. like NM isn't egotistic because of his mental issues.. like he was always like that.. but people refuse to aknowledge his flaws.. and treat him as if he was saint before he snapped..

Also another important thing is that NM thought that he's treated like a villain due to the fact that he was treating villains very awfully.. but ofc he didn't learn damn thing from it and he didn't think that maybe he was in the wrong this whole time.. but he had to keep going further this stupid path despite knowing that what he's doing is wrong.. he had to decide that he's the villain because he's stupid egotistic asshole..

New Moon didn't even hacking try to fight with himself.. he gave up so quickly because trying very hard to do good thing is hurting him too much..

But let's look at Sun who like you pointed out, dear anon, despite being hurt by most of characters and suffering from depressive psychosis (if you disagree then at least from a mental disorder) still tries to do a good thing.. even if doing these good things and being a better person always cost him more than many would consider it being worth it..

But maybe that's why people blame Sun so much and are often angry mostly at him.. because he's still trying to do good, he doesn't constantly try to find excuses for himself, he always admits to his wrongs, he always apologizes even if he doesn't have to, he gives another chance after another chance despite many broken promises and broken trust, he still feels bad when someone gets killed even if it he's enemy someone who hurt him badly, he still couldn't and didn't give up on any of Moons even if he has every right to and he blames himself for every bad thing that happened even if most of it (almost all of it) isn't his fault at all..

He lives with guilt without shouting out oh how much bad he has and how such a victim he is even if he is a victim in most of these situations.. but doesn't have a victim complex..

And also people like to say that New Moon was learning from bad examples.. but I wonder why they don't apply the same logic to Sun who had only bad examples on how to deal with things.. but apparently only Moons can be excused from anything and Sun can't..

And you're right, dear anon, that it's something worth applauding that Sun is finally realizing that he was in toxic relationship with Old Moon.. that he was hurt even when he didn't do anything to deserve this.. that he deserves to stand up for himself and stand firmly with his boundaries.. and yet like you said.. he still gives another chance to Old Moon.. even if he's still afraid to make Moon angry on accident..

Because sadly I think that Sun blames himself too much for everything (due to his delusions - again you can disagree) and thinks that he deserves to suffer through those bad things, through bad treatment because it was his fault he brought it on himself and everyone else.. he's bad so what good he deserves?

I hope you don't mind, dear anon, things that I added to what you said. I completely agree with you and I wanted to add a few things ^^

[gojoest]

Hi, Ai!! How is your weekend going?

I’m here to ask for advice. How are you so confident? I feel like a insecure loser at times bc I grew up with parents who weren’t really kind or compassionate.

I just feel like you’re very secure in yourself!

hello lovely! my weekend is going well, thank you! i hope you’re having a good time yourself! 🤍

i don’t know how to answer this honestly or if i can give any good advice, i can only speak for myself bc that’s the only experience i have and i know the approach can be vastly different for every individual ;-;

i think i am a pretty confident person in general and i owe this to many things that have helped shape me as a person like the environment i grew up in, my family, life experiences, my job and oh, especially my job bc i work in the law field and if i am timid there they will literally chew me up and spit me out, it’s ruthless AHAHAH and like i don’t mean all of these in a positive light. i have struggled a lot, growing up i did not always have a good relationship with my parents — especially during my teenage years, i was incredibly and unbearably, sometimes even unreasonably, rebellious. so it’s not like the fault lied on their shoulders only yk, we just did not understand each other mutually. this, and the hardships along the way i don’t wish to get into as they all deal with sensitive topics ;-;

what i mean to say is, there are a lot of factors that helped me build my confidence in life. but am i always confident? hell no. there are days and situations in which i am not confident at all. i doubt myself a lot. and i am still trying to figure out how to tackle those.

but i do think little things in life help you be more self-assured and boost your confidence. like, for example, i live alone and whenever there is something wrong around the house or something broken (usually something trivial ofc that doesn’t require the intervention of a professional), or there’s a jar that needs to be opened — i try to fix it myself, i spend hours trying to open the jar, but when i do — oh, it feels so good, and i’m like oh, i can do everything and anything AHAHAH, i am my own handyman. or when i speak up during a very heated situation and it actually makes a difference and pulls the things into the direction i wanted them to go — and i know this can be really difficult but when you do it once, the next time you are less scared and a bit more brave.

i truly think the key lies in believing in yourself. when you think you can or you cannot do something, you are usually right in either case. what makes a difference is what you believe in bc that impacts your actions or the intensity of your actions. like if you want to open the jar but you believe you can’t — you won’t put enough effort, enough force to try and open it, bc something in your inner self is limiting you. like it puts a lid on your potential, i think.

anyway, i am not a professional ofc i can only speak from my own experience, the least i want is to sound like a life coach or a magazine article giving tips on self-improvement ;-;

i am sending you a big hug, please take care of yourself and if needed — turn to a professional for advice or just to talk and open up 🤍

[ps-cactus]

Tired and sleepy Alvin is literally me, 5 AM PLS NO😭😆😆 Him and Matty are so sweet 🥹💖 Antler ears!!

LMAO Sebastian 😆 Anything can be fixed with food and Damien AWWW 🥹 I'd make snowmen with Damien too, even at 6 AM (well okay maybe more like at 11 or something 😆)

Flaimes are adorable pls 🥹💖 reminded me how we slid in sleds with friends when we were kids 😭

It's JUST his thigh?! Jo, I'm panicking with you already 😆 The panic is so real! Silas is such a sweet gentleman tho!

Sure, Poppy could be trusted! Sure, even if it's about dragon! Tori, baby, BREATHE! The kiss awwww 🥹💖💖

Oh no here I am again wanting to hug Ale 🥲 (okay I'd probably just nudged him tho to not make him think i pity him)

Awwww Ellie and Freddie 🥹 Ulterior motive? Noooo of course not 😁 Don't worry babies, you don't have to make explanations to your friends (they already know anyway 🤭💖)

Now I want pastries too 🥲 Alex, I can hear you humming and chewing 😆 Cassie is casually being a queen as always 👑

Ominis playing coy 🤭 Alyn laughing 😭 thank you for that, Corinne, she needed it 😆💙💖 CHRISTMAS KISS YES OMINIS CARPE DIEM

"Carpe Diem" (An HCU Winter One-Shot)

Summary: The HCU has returned to Hogwarts after their various holiday escapades. On a snowy day in January, they make up for lost time.

Word Count: 2,187

[ AO3 Link ]

4th January, 1893

// 5 AM //

“Why in Merlin’s ever loving name are we up this early?” Alvin asked Matty through a yawn. 

Matty, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, donned bright red antler ears despite the terrible hour. Naturally, she’d already perched a matching set on Alvin’s unsuspecting head. With a wide grin, she piped back, “Pastries, of course!”

“Right.” 

“They need to be done before everyone wakes up!” 

She was too perky. Too perky and then some. Though Alvin had to admit he found it rather endearing. But he was so tired, darn her!

“Remind me,” he continued. “Why are we baking Christmas pastries in January?”

“Because not all of our friends were here over the holidays, silly!” Matty leapt over to Alvin and dolloped his nose with a touch of flour. She giggled.

“Right.” Alvin waited for her to turn around before bringing his hand to his nose, touching it delicately, smiling, and then scrubbing away the evidence.

Just in time, too, as she swiveled around and said, “Now help me with the dough, please.”

“Anything for you, dear,” came Alvin’s playful reply. 

The day may have started early, but beginning it with Matty made it all worth it. 

// 6 AM //

“Get up! Get up! Get up, Sebastian!”

Sebastian jolted awake, scrambling up in bed with a speed that could rival a Hippogriff soaring over the Black Lake. “Damien! What is it?” he shouted, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest.

“Snow, Sebastian! Snow!”

Sebastian sighed. Ah yes, of course. How could he forget? Damien and snow were practically soulmates. “...And?” he asked, peeling the sheets off of his body. 

He squinted at Damien, who was bouncing up and down near the window. The sunrise streaming through the curtains cast a dull red glow on Damien’s dark blond hair, making him appear as if he’d been dipped in firelight. Thank Merlin Damien’s roommates were still away for the holidays. Otherwise, they’d surely be awake by now, thanks to Damien’s overflowing excitement.

“You promised me we’d make snowmen together!”

“...Now? It’s—” he groped for his pocket watch on the nightstand, squinting at the face before groaning, “6 AM. Can it wait?” 

“No,” Damien said, pouting. 

“Right. Fantastic.” The sarcasm was implied. Damien was lucky he had a pretty face. “But breakfast first. Please .” His stomach growled in agreement. 

Damien beamed back at him, too excited to be put out by Sebastian’s grumpiness. “Yes! Hurry, hurry,” he said, tossing Sebastian’s clothes onto the bed in a messy pile.

“I’m hurrying,” Sebastian grumbled.

It was shaping up to be a very long day indeed. But at least there was food first, and Damien, too, he supposed. Ugh, fine. 

// 7 AM //

“Wheeeeeeee!” Florence’s hair flopped into his face as he sped down the hill, his sled propelled by the hefty push James had given it mere moments before. 

James was surprisingly strong, wasn’t he? Quite impressive, really. 

“Again!” Florence called, catching sight of James at the top of the hill, grinning like he was king of the hill, or maybe just king of Florence’s heart. 

James cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered back, “It’s my turn though!”

“Alright, that’s fair.” Florence doubted James could hear him from this far away, but he leapt to his feet and began the trek back up the hill, his sled bumping along behind him. 

Today was going to be a great day.

// 8 AM //

Jo and Silas had kicked off the day early, determined to make sure everything was perfect. Later this morning, they planned to surprise their friends, all of whom had returned from their various Christmas holidays, with belated gifts—something they’d been scheming for weeks.

Well, perhaps ‘scheming’ wasn’t the best choice of word. It was, after all, a very kind gesture on their part.

Jo smiled, picking up her third gift box of the morning, checking its contents and then beginning the process of wrapping. 

“What’s in that one?” Silas asked, pointing at the present in her lap. As he did, his thigh brushed against hers, and Jo’s cheeks instantly flushed.

Stay calm, stay calm, she told herself. It’s just his thigh. Don’t panic.

“Erm, it’s a hat and scarf I knitted myself,” she somehow managed to eke out.

Silas’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know you knitted.”

Jo’s gaze dropped to her hands. “Oh, uh, there’s… there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” she mumbled, adding quietly, “but, uh, maybe you’ll find out more… eventually.” 

Smooth, Jo. Very smooth. 

Silas laughed. “You’re adorable, you know that?” 

Jo blinked. “Am I?” 

What was happening?

Silas picked up the closest present from the floor, hopped back onto the sofa, and settled with his back against her chest. Jo’s breath hitched, her heart fluttering. 

“Yes, you are,” he murmured, taking her hand in his and planting a soft, lingering kiss upon it.

Oh my.

If the events of the day thus far were any indication, Jo might just find herself getting used to this. 

// 9 AM //

“Why is it always so dark in here?” Tori muttered to herself as she stepped into the Three Broomsticks. The night before, Poppy had sent her an owl asking to meet here at 9 AM. For what, Tori hadn’t the foggiest idea. Still, Poppy could be trusted… except for that one time with the dragon. But Tori tried not to think about that. 

The inn was unusually quiet at this early hour; Sirona wasn’t even haunting her usual spot at the bar. 

“Surprise!” Poppy cried, popping out from behind a table with a grin. 

Tori placed a hand to her heart, feigning surprise—well, mostly feigning it. It had been a few weeks since she’d last seen Poppy, and in that moment, her beauty completely stole Tori’s breath away. Better to not let that show. 

Poppy smirked. “Happy to see me?”

“That depends,” Tori said, one eyebrow raised. 

“On?”

“Why we’re here.”

“Oh! You haven’t figured it out by now?” 

Tori only just noticed that Poppy was holding something behind her back. She had been too distracted by more important things, like Poppy’s entrancing, deep brown eyes. 

“I bought you something!” Poppy continued, holding out a giant red and green box with a massive ribbon that looked entirely too large.

Tori blanched. “For me? You didn’t have to—”

Poppy cut her off. “Oh, please. You deserve it.” 

Tori looked down at her feet, so she was startled when the present entered her field of vision. Poppy had shoved it into her chest. She grabbed it instinctively, her fingers brushing against Poppy’s for the briefest moment. 

“You’re too good to me,” Tori whispered, glancing down at Poppy shyly. 

Poppy’s eyes met hers. She smiled. “Maybe, but I think you’re worth it.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Tori’s cheek. 

Tori’s heart skipped a beat. She looked forward to finding out what was inside the box, but mostly she was just happy to have her Poppy back on this lovely January day. 

// 10 AM //

Ale was not in a good mood. He glowered at Val and Cal, who were all but wrapped around each other in the corner of the room, whispering and giggling like they were the only ones here.  Meanwhile, Jo and Silas were busy arranging Christmas presents to hand out to the group, their cheerful chatter doing nothing to lift Ale’s sour disposition. 

Damien and Sebastian were at the table with the pastries, which had been baked by Matty and Alvin in the wee hours of the morning, apparently. Damien, as always, was stuffing his face like he hadn’t eaten in days, while Sebastian looked on with a bemused smile. Across the room, Alyn and Ominis sat on a sofa sipping warm hot cocoa. They were laughing, probably at some bit of gossip that Ominis had just divulged. James and Florence were drying off by the door, clearly still buzzing from what seemed to have been a rousing morning in the snow. James's hair was soaking wet, and he shook his head like a wet dog, sending droplets of water flying in all directions, showering Florence in the process. Florence didn’t seem to mind.

The scene was chaotic, but Ale had grown used to it. He hadn’t grown used to seeing Val with Cal. 

And now they were kissing!

“Excuse me! There are other people present!” he growled. 

They kept kissing. It figured. 

Perhaps a change in subject would be amenable.

“Where are Alex and Cassie?” Ale said as Sebastian ambled over in his general direction. 

“No clue,” he replied. “I slept in Damien’s common room last night.” He said it so nonchalantly, like it was the most casual thing in the world. 

Ale hadn’t realized how lonely he was until now. 

“They’re probably still asleep,” Jo said, answering Ale’s question as she handed him his present. “How are you holding up?”

Ale narrowed his eyes. “Fine, thank you.” He didn’t need anyone’s pity. He was a Salvatori. Salvatoris didn’t need anyone. Especially not Valentine Black. 

Oh, Merlin. She was still kissing Cal. 

Today was the absolute worst. 

// 11 AM //

Alex and Cassie had slept in. In fact, they were still asleep. If someone had strolled by the Slytherin common room, they would have heard Alex’s snores through the heavy stone walls of the dungeon. 

They could very well sleep the day away, wrapped in the warmth of their blankets, lost to the world outside. 

// 12 PM //

Ellie and Freddie also appeared to be asleep on a sofa in Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower. They weren’t actually sleeping, though. They were “resting their eyes,” as Freddie put it.

Ellie, however, seemed to think that Freddie had an ulterior motive behind this so-called “rest.” It was only noon after all. Not that she minded. She was rather enjoying having his towhead cradled in her arms. She could feel his heartbeat through her hand, light and fast, like the flutter of butterfly wings. 

She was about to open her eyes when:

“Good morning, Ellie and Freddie!” someone shouted. Their voice was bright and far too cheerful, so it could only be Poppy.

Ellie tensed and her eyes burst open. Freddie startled to attention as well. They sprang to their feet in unison, caught in the act. No one yet knew they were together. Well, that was about to change. 

“Isn’t it afternoon?” Freddie said, ruffling his hair. 

“You’re right,” Tori said, looking at them apologetically. She was holding hands with Poppy. “Let’s leave them be, Poppy.”

“Oh!” Poppy’s face turned bright pink. “Right, yes. We’ll go.” 

“There’s no need…” Ellie began, but the two of them had already headed out the massive oak doors. 

Freddie let out a long sigh. “Well, it looks like we have some explaining to do.” 

“Later,” Ellie said, sinking back into the sofa and patting her lap, a silent invitation for Freddie to rejoin her. 

Today, maybe. But not yet.

// 1 PM //

“Oh! It’s just past one!” Alyn exclaimed.

Ominis blinked. Time tended to slip by when he was with Alyn; she had that effect on him. It was a bit unnerving. Welcome, but unnerving. 

They were still lounging on the sofa, lost in conversation, drinks long consumed, when Alex and Cassie made their extremely tardy entrance. 

“Are we late?” Alex said.

Cassie said through a yawn, “Where is everyone?”

“Hello,” Ominis said, waving in the direction of the sound of their voices, “we’re everyone.” 

“Har har,” Alex replied, but he must have been distracted by something because the tone and volume of his voice changed abruptly. He shouted, “Oooo, Cassie, look! Pastries!”

That explained that then. 

Though the pastries had more than likely gone cold by now, the muffled chewing and hum of satisfaction from Alex told Ominis all he needed to know.

Cassie plopped down onto the sofa next to Alyn. “So, what have you two been chatting about?”

“Everything,” Alyn said. There was a mischievous lilt in her tone that Ominis caught easily. “As you’d expect.” 

“Everything, hm?” Ominis raised an eyebrow. “I’m not so sure about that, but I do appreciate the vote of confidence in my conversational skills.” 

“Everyone knows you’re the person to come to for all Hogwarts-related gossip.”

“Is that so?” Ominis asked, keeping his tone casual. He knew it, of course, but it was always more fun to play coy when the topic came up. 

Before anyone could respond, Alex’s heavy footsteps came from behind, followed by a squeal, as he, presumably, grabbed Cassie from the sofa. 

Alyn burst into a fit of giggles. “I think that means you have to kiss him, Cass,” she said once she managed to stifle her laughter. 

Ah, Alex must have found some mistletoe, Ominis thought, tilting his head in amusement. 

Cassie said, “I don’t need mistletoe as an excuse to kiss you, my love.”

“Mmph,” Alex replied, the sound smothered as he was likely being kissed. 

Speaking of kissing, one day soon—perhaps even today—Ominis would muster up the courage to kiss Alyn.

You know what? Yes, today was going to be the day. What was that Muggle saying? Ah yes, carpe diem. Seize the day, indeed. 

MCs mentioned:

matty & cal & silas by @girl-named-matty ; freddie by @freddiestheproblemchild ; ellie by @accio-bagel ; tori by @espressoristretto-patronum ; alyn by @ps-cactus ; ale & val by @savingsallow ; jo by @ravenwind-75 ; alex & cassie by @acslytherpuff; florence & jaimsen by @leaping-toadstool-caps ; damien (mine) <3

[crockettmarcel]

exes meeting again after not speaking for years au + sockett!!

I've been thinking about this request literally ever since you sent it I'm so sorry it took five months to write. but anyway this is a fun new au that I haven't mentioned at all anywhere (except in a couple of people's dms) and I love it so so much

wc: 717 warnings: implied child death, mentioned dog death (but literally just from old age), sarah's an oncologist

Crockett sees her before she sees him. She’s standing with her back to him at a computer at the nurses’ station, but even before her face is visible, he knows it’s her. Her hair is the same — darker than it was ten years ago, but pulled up in a bun the way she always used to — and he’s never met anyone else who rubs their neck when they’re stressed the way she’s doing right now.

He slowly makes his way over to her, setting his tablet down at the computer next to hers, then waits a moment before speaking.

“My mom came by the other day with the box you sent. She didn’t mention you were moving here.”

“I didn’t tell her.” She’s still staring at her computer, brow furrowed as she tries to make sense of what’s on the screen, and Crockett takes the opportunity to peer at the words embroidered on her white coat.

Sarah Reese, M.D.

Pediatric Oncology

“Oncology. Interesting choice.”

She snaps her head around to look at him.

Now, face-to-face with her, he can see how much she’s changed in the last decade. The nose ring she’d worn the entire time he’d known her is gone, and it’s only because he knows to look for it that he can see the hole it left behind. Her face looks thinner than before, her cheekbones more defined, and she’s not wearing any makeup either - no more dark eyeshadow or thick black mascara like in all the photos tucked away in albums at his parents’ house.

“Can I help you with something, Dr Marcel?”

Their eyes meet, and for a moment, he can see reflected back at him the same pain he’s become so good at hiding from everyone. He wonders if she can see it too, if his guard is down enough to be vulnerable for once, but if she can, she does a good job of ignoring it.

“It’s been a while.”

She nods, then turns her attention back to her computer. “Ten years.” 

She’s not interested in talking, that much Crockett’s sure of, and if it were anybody else, he’d just shut up and leave them alone. But it’s Sarah, and he has so much he wants to say that he can’t even get the words straight in his head, so he stays where he is and tries his hardest to make conversation.

“How have you been? How’s your mom?”

“We’re fine.”

“And Buffy? Her birthday should be coming up around now, right?”

“She’s dead.”

His face falls, and Sarah has to bite back a smile.

“She’d be twenty now, Crockett. How many twenty-year-old dogs do you know?”

“No, yeah, of course. My bad.”

He turns back to his computer, but every few seconds he glances at Sarah from the corner of his eye. Her attention is fixed completely on her own screen, and she chews absentmindedly on her bottom lip as she reads. Crockett’s never seen her do that before, so he watches, oblivious to the fact that he’s staring until she turns to face him.

“What are you doing?”

He quickly looks away, then mumbles what sounds to Sarah like an attempt at an apology. Maybe he means it, maybe he’s just saying it to get her to stop looking like she wants to kill him, but she doesn’t care enough either way to try and figure it out. Instead, she logs out of her computer, grabs her tablet and half-empty cup of coffee, and makes it approximately two steps before Crockett’s voice stops her in her tracks.

“Sarah, wait.”

“Is this important? Because I have patients I need to see.”

“What happened to your accent?” he asks, sounding almost, genuinely sad that it’s gone.

“It went away when I moved to New York. Now is that all? Because I can’t just stand here and make small talk when I have patients that are relying on me. You’d have hated it if Harper’s doctor had done that.”

She walks off without giving him a chance to respond, and for a moment he just stands there, mouth hanging open, as he watches her walk towards the elevators. She doesn’t look back, and he doesn’t expect her to. Maybe the Sarah he knew ten years ago would, but she’s long gone, and he's not sure if she's ever coming back.

[tottenhamx]

Carraville + joy for @carraville-adm

I was mulling over this prompt while watching the news about the uk government collapsing, and somehow an AU with running-for-MP!Gary and his-campaign-manager!Jamie was born. Also they talk about their feelings, which might be the bigger AU actually. Thanks for the prompt, hope you enjoy!

-

“Do you think we’ll do it?” Gary asks him, when it’s just the two of them left in the conference room.

All the rumblings are that the final results are due to be announced within the hour, and everyone else—party officials, friends, family—has already left for the main ballroom, waiting to celebrate (or suffer) as a collective group. But Gary, ever the contrarian, is still in here—so Jamie is too.

“I’m your campaign manager. It’s literally in my job description to tell you we will,” Jamie replies, even though he knows Gary won’t accept that as an answer.

Still, he expects Gary to huff and roll his eyes, not fix him with the kind of deadly serious look that pins him right to the spot. A stare worthy of an MP, Jamie thinks with pride, remembering just how much work went into crafting and perfecting this particular expression.

“You were my friend first, James,” Gary says, and Jamie’s glad he’s still sitting because his whole body just sort of melts at the knees—even now, even after all these years—at hearing his name said low and gravelly in that stupid Manc voice. “And as a friend, what do you think?”

He sounds far too forlorn for the night of his ascendancy into political power.

“I said I’d make you Prime Minister, Gary. Wouldn’t have even bothered if I didn’t think you could become a measly MP first.” They are both well aware, having shed thousands of hours of blood and sweat to prove it, that becoming any kind of government official is a difficult and grueling task—but Gary cracks a smile, and that’s all Jamie was aiming for anyway.

“Should I be worried about finding a new campaign manager if it doesn’t go well for us tonight?” Gary stands from his chair, wincing subtly enough that most people wouldn’t even notice.

Jamie notices. Jamie also isn’t most people.

“Should I be worried about finding a new candidate to prop up?” He glances theatrically Gary’s left knee, which has long been the troublemaker, but lets it go when Gary only frowns a little, as though he’s genuinely been wondering whether Jamie would turn traitor and find a different politician to devote every waking minute of his life to. As if he would, as if he even could. “You do know I’d resign if we don’t win. If a team gets relegated they usually bring in a new manager to tackle the promotion campaign.”

“Don’t you dare bring football into this, the last thing I wanna think about tonight is United playing the Europa League,” Gary retorts, then chews at his lip the way he always does when he’s hesitating. Jamie waits him out, knows he’s never been one to hem and haw over his words for long. “What if I didn’t want someone new?” Gary says at last, very quietly. “What if I just wanted—”

Gary trails off and shakes his head, making himself very busy adjusting his already-perfectly-knotted tie (Jamie would know, he tied it), but Jamie can’t unhear what he said.

And it’s—going over in sharpie what they’ve only danced around with pencil before, the idea that maybe they’re more than just college friends turned professional partners, that maybe something deeper has settled down and grown roots when they weren’t looking.

Or it’s just Gary having grown attached to his particular brand of cheerful criticism and surly advice. It’s probably just that.

Probably.

So he tackles that angle first. “Gary, we need politicians like you. And if I can’t get you into Parliament, you have to find yourself someone better who can. You need to do what’s best for you and your career.”

A beat.

“The best thing for me has always been you.”

The “Gaz” that comes out in response is shaky and breathless, punched from deep inside him without any part of his conscious mind actually forming the word.

Are they doing this? Maybe they’re doing this. They might be doing this.

Gary looks him dead in the eye, and there isn’t a single shred of politician in the stare this time. This one is all Gary, sharp and intense and strangely raw.

And then Gary leans forward and hugs him.

Oh. Oh.

He can count on one hand, maybe even one finger, the number of times that’s happened before, and Jamie’s mind—blinks, shutting down for a moment before roaring back at twice the intensity. This close, he can feel the warmth and shape of Gary’s body, can feel every little point where they’re touching from knee to forehead, can feel the rise and fall of Gary’s chest against his own, can feel the tickle of Gary’s exhale against his cheek when runs a hand down his back.

So they’re definitely doing this.

It’s a heady feeling, like the fizzing rush of a strong drink mixed with the gentle warmth of a bowl of soup. He can’t describe it better than that—he’s not the wordsmith of the team, that’s what they have speechwriters for. All he knows is that Gary’s stubborn and obsessive and nit-picky and such a goddamn control freak, and Jamie loves him in a way he doesn’t even have words to explain.

Only emphatic four-letter ones, which he probably shouldn’t be using right as he’s about to become arm candy to an honest-to-god Member of Parliament.

Although really, the results have never mattered less. This moment, this might be all he needs for the rest of forever—this is pure, utter joy.

Plus maybe a kiss. (Another time, perhaps)

They pull apart, and Jamie grins. “Forget the election, I’m handing in my resignation right now.”

“What?” Gary still has a dopey look on his face, like sustained positive human contact might have actually broken him, and he’s never looked more kissable in his entire life.

Jamie pushes that thought away. Somebody could walk in any moment to drag them to the ballroom, maybe even one of the journalists dotted around the place, and that isn’t how he wants to announce this fledgling little thing between them to the world.

“I can’t be your boyfriend if I’m your campaign manager, and I’d much rather be one of those things than the other right now.”

Gary rolls his eyes. “You don’t mean that. This is your career too.”

“I mean every word,” Jamie says, pausing for dramatic effect, but knows it isn’t quite that simple. “No, listen, I’m not resigning, alright? Got the message loud and clear, so stop looking like someone stole your Wheaties.”

(But he would, for this. He would in a heartbeat)

“And boyfriends makes us sound like lovesick teenagers,” Gary adds, but that isn’t his irritated voice, so Jamie doesn’t pay it too much mind.

Besides, he feels just about as giddy as a lovesick teenager right now, so maybe it isn’t the most inaccurate description.

There’s a knock on the door, two sharp bangs one second apart.

“That’ll be Phil,” Gary says, sounding unhappy about it. “Results are probably imminent.”

Jamie tries not let it fuel his ego that Gary seems more interested in staying in his room with him than finding out if he’s achieved the singular goal of his professional life. He tries, and he fails.

Gary notices, because it’s been a long time since they missed anything about each other. “Don’t look so smug, James. I’d only rather be in here because there’s nothing worse than losing in front of a crowd.”

“I think I’ve already won,” Jamie says softly.

It’s stupidly sappy, but he’s stupidly happy, alright? He’s allowed.

[sugakuns]

[sc] 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐛𝐨𝐲 ?

sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs: kozume’s twitch had blown up lately and his subscribers love to bully him with you

ᴀ/ɴ: gn reader

-> this has been in my drafts for AGES and i kinda need to post... sorry for any grammar mistakes..

⤷ mlist

Kenma was having a chill stream, one where he sat back from the games (surprisingly) and spoke to his fans. He preferred these streams when he had a particularly hard day at work wherein he had to sit in long meetings while elderly executives yelled at him for not working his business the way they would prefer.

But for now, he sat on a familiar black gaming chair with white and red accents, on his head sat a pair of pink headphones with little cat ears and white fur details. They were gag gifts from Kuroo when his stream started to get more popular but Kenma had actually liked them and genuinely started using them since they did work. They’re pretty much a staple in Kenma’s online image too.

His set up was quite minimalistic due to the room he used for steaming being a spare room within the house. The white walls behind him had a few gaming posters stuck to the walls, along with LED lights and picture frames of random images ranging from cute photos of your cats to pictures of you and Kenma on dates. Kenma sits in the middle of the screen, camera positioned from the waist up to barely show the offcial Kodzuken logo (stylised KDZKN) printed on the front.

“You guys wanna see [y/n]?” He asks after observing the fast flowing chat. Multiple animations flared on the screen from money donations to gifted subs and messages relentlessly asking for you to come on the stream. They loved to see you two interact, especially since Kenma seems so much more confident and snarky when you’re on the stream.

“They’re watching so they’ll come up if they want” He tells the chat as he runs his fingers through his hair, grunting lightly as he pulls his hair into a lazy low bun. The front strands of his hair were always let down to frame his face due to the fact he never grew out of his habit of using his hair as a shield from others.

He can already hear you padding down the hallway anyway, mentally ticking down the seconds until the door clicks open and you stumble in the streaming room but for now his eyes gaze over the chat.

“I’m not gonna wear a maid dress you guys” He groans. He knows many of his followers like to imagine him as very feminine - and yes, fair enough he had painted his nails and let you put eyeliner on him but dresses were far out of his comfort zone. It’s something he’s already discussed with his fans as being something that crossed the line when requested.

His eyes flicker to the corner of the screen where he catches the movement of the door opening as you quietly slip into the room. You’re wearing a pair of sweats and some random top but he noticed how you fixed your hair (and makeup if you wear it!) to look a little more presentable for his fans.

“Hi everybody” You greet softly, bending down to get a better look at the stream. It took you a while to understand his setup with the three large and extremely expensive monitors balancing on some random white table you bought at a local Ikea. You have no idea why Kenma isn’t more careful about the placement of his things but you’re sure it’s down to the amount of money he’s accumulated from multiple platforms.

The personalised and familiar sound of Happy from FairyTail saying “wow” chimes through the air as a donation appears on the screen. A feminine robotic voice follows shortly after as it reads out the short message displayed on the screen.

“Is your boyfriend a catboy?”

A giggle ripples from deep in your chest at the playful question but you nod anyway. Kenma’s blank expression judging you through the monitors reflection is enough to make you double over with laughter too, making his eyebrows curve downwards in a display of annoyance.

“I’m not a catboy”

“Babe you literally have cat ears on your headphones” Kenma groans, hands wrapping around the plastic to pull them from his head to rest around his neck. A few more donations come in repeating the previous question but the two of you are distracted by a letter argument.

“You literally went to a school with the word cat in it!”

“That’s not the point”

“Kenma we have two cats! Plus i’m pretty sure I remember you looking into getting some Hello Kitty things” Kenma attempts to cover your mouth with his hands but the last few words come out audibly muffled. The chat of course explodes, claiming you to be his My Melody to his Kuromi but he chooses to glare at you instead.

“Don’t you have Hello Kitty hair clips?” He retorts, letting his eyebrows furrow as he purses his lips into a strange mixture of a pout and a frown.

“And I wear them with pride!”

“You’re worse than me” Kenma pouts, leaning back from his keyboard as his left hand comes up to snake around your shoulders and lovingly rub your upper arm. He knows you get a little nervous when speaking to his fanbase, especially after you’ve seen what they’re capable of doing to other fanbases or people in general.

The chat continues to flow rapidly with new questions, a few donations coming in randomly with by gifting subs or asking questions that Kenma briefly answers.

“They’re asking if you’ll make a Twitch” Kenma smiles, eyes darting from the screen to watch how you fidget as you think of an answer.

“No” You chew on your bottom lip “I don’t think i’m that entertaining... maybe if i do anything I’ll make a youtube channel..”

“You’re not boring” Kenma retorts swiftly, promoting a small smile to appear on your face. You can’t help but feel a little happy with the positive attention you’re gaining from his fans, but you’ve thought about it before and you’ve seen what having a large fanbase can have to a person. You’re literally dating Kodzuken.

“Thanks, Ken”

[works-of-magic]

Oh, it's poffins for me, hands down!

I know, I know. Very basic bitch Sinnoh response. But the thing about poffins is they're so ADAPTABLE. I have anywhere from 40-60 Pokemon I feed daily, and I need to be able to make treats with all of their preferences in mind-- ideally in large batches so I'm not sitting there making 40 different treats every week.

I mostly feed ghosts, and among them it's mostly Misdreavus line, but I also have an Aegislash, two Mimikyu, a Rotom, breeding Murkrow and a Pidgeot, a Ninetales, and a Phantump, and even more if I'm trying to keep my Litwick from draining too much life energy, so I've got a range from the amorphous group to avians to plant types to steel type to mammalian. And... whatever Mimikyu are. If I made type-specific treats for all of them, I'd basically have an unpaid full-time job just feeding my Pokemon in the kitchen!

(Sharing some of my poffin secrets below the cut. ;P Also some summaries of a mochi and hay biscuit recipe.)

So anyways, the nice thing about poffins is that they're really customizable, and essentially you're making a loaf of bread when you're making it for so many Pokemon at once. (You could theoretically make mini muffins for them, but I find a loaf of bread easier to portion and more forgiving if I forget it's rising, or forget it's in the oven.)

I can't have wheat, personally, so I tend to make the Pokemons' foods out of flour I already have on hand! Usually a wheat-free 1:1 mix with potato, rice, and tapioca. Millet flour is nice too, it's a staple in most commercial bird seed mixes so you know it's safe for the birds, it makes a very light and crumbly dough, and oat flour is good for a dense bread with extra protein and iron. Almond flour doesn't hold together very well for me, so I simply don't use it. (It's crazy expensive, anyways...)

Different flours make for lighter or heavier taste, too! By using a variety of flours, the taste and texture is something I can tailor to individuals within my stock.

For the birds and breeding ghosts especially, I'll use a recipe heavier on the eggs, for an extra helping of the protein and fats they need if they're producing eggs! The birds also get seeds and grains added to theirs if I had the money to make them something a little more gourmet, like amaranth or quinoa or unsplit oat groats.

For the ghosts, usually I'll add in whole dried berries. Oran and cornn or haban berries for the contest lines; lum and sitrus (or more oran berries) for the battling lines. I don't really work with household companion lines, but if I did they'd probably get cornn and haban berries. Plus, I'll add whatever berry is available at the market for a good price, especially for those who like spicy or sweet berries. (I want them to ENJOY the poffins, after all!)

Nuts, I have to be careful with. The ghosts and birds can have plain almonds in their poffins, usually slivered so they don't literally bite off more than they can chew and choke on them, but I don't think they're safe for Ninetales. Unfortunately I don't trust my memory+attention span to make sure I'm not giving Ninetales the slice with nuts, so I'll usually avoid it.

A nice thing about poffins is I can also make them plain if we have a new baby or I'm fostering and don't know what flavor they like. I can make a "blank slate" loaf, with no berries or fix-ins, and let them choose from different crumbles or ''glazes'' (sans sugar, really more of a reduced berry jam) to put on top. You can also do the tiramisu method with this and dip it in 'mon-safe tea! A couple of my Mismagius like this one because we can do some kitchen witchin' and enchant it for luck or prosperity or strength or positivity, whatever we may wish to carry with us through the day!

You can also make a sort of mochi treat with rice flour, water, and berry or pokebean paste (foregoing the sugar used in human mochi, of course). But that one's a lot more labor intensive. Especially if you're milling the rice flour yourself. (This recipe probably wouldn't be good for Pokemon prone to gulping their foods rather than chewing, or with any sort of dental impairments. Smaller mochi is less likely to be choked on.)

There are also really easy recipes for making hay-based biscuits for ruminants! I haven't made them myself as I've only ever fostered Minccino a couple times, but you basically soak the hay, make it into a pulp, mash it into a mold, and bake it until it's dry! Super easy and versatile, especially if you use pre-dried berries or petals. They're tasty, healthy for them, AND can help wear down the teeth of a picky gnawer, so they're functional as well as desirable! (I'd recommend using timothy or meadow grass hay for daily treats, and if you have a gravid or baby 'mon, alfalfa provides lots of extra protein and calcium they need at those stages!)

I find myself curious, after Lady Anthea's recent post.

What are your favorite recipes for homemade treats for your Pokemon? Please be sure to specify what kind of Pokemon you have when you share.

And if you read these recipes, be sure to check the ingredients before you make them, to be sure your Pokemon truly can have them, and people are not just making things up or saying whatever they please to cause harm.

[absolutepokemontrash]

ayo!! congrats on 666 <33 I'm not sure if its much of a request but I love how you wrote the demon kids personalities! I was wondering what kids of personalities you would see the other brothers kids having? Hypothetically of course (unless 👀)

BRO- I’ve actually been thinking about this for a while! Fan kids are fun to think about, what can I say? Now, these kids aren’t canon to the Awfully Familiar series, the HOL is crowded enough as is… but I hope you enjoy anyways!

(I’m giving all the kids names just so no one gets confused with which kid is whose)

Levi’s Kid

Uh let’s use probability to figure out how rare children of our snek boy are. The Otaku left the house (unlikely), spoke to a human being (very unlikely), did the devil’s tango with them (impossible)

I’m kidding, but seriously what the fuck why did this human exchange student look so much like Levi? Was that a tail? Hehehe… what a weird practical joke…

(I’m calling this MC Percy. Three guesses as to why)

Okay, onto the kiddo’s personality. I’m picturing them being REALLY hyped and REALLY enthusiastic about their hobbies and isn’t afraid to yammer about them. They’re good at what they do and they’re damn proud of it! They turn their envy into *~inspiration~* and get better at the things they enjoy doing!

In all fairness to Levi, it’s a bit easier for his kid because Percy isn’t literally being eaten alive and consumed by this sin every waking moment of his life… perks of being half human! :D

Percy loves swimming, and the ocean, and fish, and they brought a shark back from the beach- wait hang on a second-

It’s not uncommon for Levi to be hardcore gaming while Percy swims around in the fish tank.

The pair of them have a very good relationship, Percy is kind of Levi’s hero with how eager they are to get better at the things they love doing and how they almost never self pity spiral. The one issue is… ugh… Percy is a 🤢…. Sorry. Percy’s a 🤢 🤢-

They’re A FUCKING NORMIE. THEY DON’T LIKE ANIME!

Other than that, the two get along swimmingly. (Ba dum tisssss)

Percy’s reaction to Levi’s cool military titles is basically “WOAH! YOU HAVE BOATS?! CAN I GO ON ONE?!” And Levi would be a monster to decline.

Percy wore a pirate hat despite Levi telling them numerous times that they were a part of the navy, they CATCH pirates. Which are apparently still a big problem in the Devildom…

Also, Percy and Lotan absolutely adore each other. It makes Levi very happy

Satan’s Kid

Satan’s a pretty charming guy, and it’s canon that he’s amazing at seductive speech craft so it’s no surprise that he was able to seduce a human.

You know what is a surprise? The fact that Satan, the smart one, didn’t think to use protection! Like- DUDE I EXPECTED BETTER FROM YOU.

Whatever, anyway, when this kid slammed onto the floor of the assembly hall no one had time to react when the kid suddenly grew horns… and fangs… and a tail… OH FUCK THE KID WAS GOING THROUGH THEIR FIRST TRANSFORMATION WHAT THE FUCK-

(For simplicity’s sake, I’m going to call this kid Lyssa, mainly because of the meaning of the name)

The first thing Lyssa did was launch themselves straight at the first person they saw, and I ask you to guess exactly who sits in the middle seat of the assembly hall. That’s right… Satan… yay…

This kid nearly clawed his face off in the span of two seconds and it took Lucifer and Beel working together to drag them off of him and then Asmo had to step in to use his powers to calm them down. Well. That was eventful.

So Lyssa has a volcanic temper and they’re honestly really bitter and upset at everything, which is something that’s supposed to come in adult life, not so early. So what’s up with this kid? Well, when you’re born with a burning rage deep inside you that can be set off at even the slightest inconvenience and because of that everyone around you immediately assumes you’re dangerous or crazy can really do some damage to a kid.

So who oh who is Lyssa going to blame for this…? Hmmm… who is responsible for the anger? *Side eyes Satan*

“Wow, this kid is blaming me for passing down my wrath even though I couldn’t control giving it to them and if I had the choice I would have made sure they wouldn’t have to live with it and they’re mad at me for subjecting them to existence itself… wow this feels so bad :( who would treat someone like this..?” “*Dad sigh*”

The two of them do eventually get along. It’s actually Satan who extends the olive branch and offers to help them control their anger. As the two spend time together, Lyssa’s intense hatred slowly subsides.

So… what’s Lyssa going to do now? They’ve spent so much of their life being defined by their anger… who the fuck are they????? U-uh… cats! Cats! Lyssa likes cats! Is liking cats a personality? No? Okay… um… Music! Music is relaxing! Lyssa likes music! Um… um… ooo- look at that! They like space! And stars!

You knew what they don’t like? School. Lyssa doesn’t like learning in a controlled environment where they’re being told what to learn. Leave them alone so they can go read about space.

Beelzebub’s kid(s)

*munch* *munch* *chew* *chomp* huh, *chomp* why does the takeout- I mean the human look so much like him…? They’re his kid..? *choke* *cough* *cough* …Huh. Want some chips?

Surprisingly chill first meeting. Well, Beel and the kid were chill, everyone else was freaking the fuck out.

I’m calling this kid Pepper. Why? Fucking guess.

Pepper themselves is just… chill. They’re sort of like a capybara, their vibes are just so immaculate that everyone wants to hang out around them.

Unlike Beel, Pepper’s penchant for food mainly comes from “food is good.” instead of “my body is literally eating itself alive every second of the day and I need to be eating something at almost all times in order to stave off a rampage.” Beel is very happy that his kid doesn’t have to live with food constantly on the brain.

All was well until three days into the exchange program when Pepper asked at the dinner table “so when are we bringing my twin down here?”

…twin genes man… twin genes…

Second kid, I’m calling them Cane. (CANE PEPPER, GET IT?! GET IT?!) this kid is less like a capybara and more like a honey badger. They don’t give a shit.

Here’s the thing though… they’re identical twins.

Cane is basically Beel but smaller. They follow Beel to the gym and usually get stopped at the door. “Kids aren’t allowed in the gym.” Ha, the rules don’t apply to Cane, they just cross their arms and raise their eyebrows and whoever is stopping them just steps aside. Don’t fuck with the honey badger kid.

Pepper and Cane are super close though, but don’t ask if they have a telepathic link or something, Cane will fuck you up and Pepper won’t be able to stop them. (I know a pair of identical twins, and the amount of times they’ve been asked if they can read each other’s minds is enough to make anyone homicidal)

Belphegor’s kid

*squints* how’d this happen..?

Whatever. When Belphie’s kid woke up on the floor of the assembly hall everyone took one look at this kid and collectively went “shitballs”

Belphie was in the attic and his kid was wandering around the house like they ran the place! What the fuuuuuuuuck was Lucifer supposed to do with this????

Anyway, meet Arien.

Arien, how does one describe this little hellspawn? Well, one would call them the brood of Lucifer or the spawn of Satan but that would be false because this manipulative evil devil-child that crawled straight out of a teacher’s nightmares is BELPHIE’S kid. And it fucking SHOWS.

This kid won the demon/human genetic lottery and they’re going to make it everyone’s problem. Basically, they’re sin is sloth, but unlike Belphie, Arien’s is more voluntary, if that makes sense. They sleep and slack off because they like not doing work, not because they’re always tired. They have this sort of lazy relaxed facade that vanishes the second it’s not needed, it’s honestly kind of terrifying.

They quickly learn that if they just pretend to be having troubles with being constantly tired, the rest of the house will go easy on them if they miss their chores and schoolwork.

Jeez Louise when this kid met Belphie…

They both just stared at each other for a solid five minutes before anyone said anything. Belphie somewhat nervously started up his “oh woe is me get me out of here :(“ charade, and the kid played along for a few weeks, until of course, they got suspicious.

You remember how Belphie guilt spiralled with L!MC? Yeah imagine that but 40 times worse, and he hadn’t even done anything yet.

But yeah, blah blah blah Arien breaks Belphie out, they don’t die, family’s back together, happily ever after. But not quite. Arien’s “oh no I’m sorry I’m sleepy…” charade was found out and boy howdy was everyone pissed.

Surprisingly, it was Belphie who gave Arien the wake up thwack, but Arien called Belphie out on his laziness so Belphie was forced to become a better example.

The way they fixed Ari’s behaviour? Extra chores, extra schoolwork, extra everything, and the boys did nothing to help. Basically, “this is how we felt! Deal with it!”

It worked… thankfully.

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Stolen Stamps

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Stolen Passport Oneshot

“You took me on a trip just to break up with me so I stole your passport” - Prompt from @dailyau

I don't know where this came from, it just kinda happened, enjoy! Minor Chaolaena, Rowaelin endgame

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language

2494 words

*******

The faint hum of the air condition filled the meticulously organized room in the back of the post office.

“Ms. Galathynius,” A deep, accented voice addressed her.

Her gaze on the tall bookshelf in the corner jerked back to the man sitting across from her behind his desk. His hands were crossed, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, exposing part of a tattoo that wrapped around his muscular arm. She tried not to watch as the muscles shifted as he leaned forward when he spoke to her.

“Can you please explain to me why you were trying to mail a very,” He paused, glancing at the messily-wrapped bundle on the center of his desk, “suspicious-looking package to the Adarlan embassy in Antica?”

Aelin opened her mouth to try to explain, but no words came out.

He raised a silver eyebrow and waited.

She sighed, “I swear, it’s not what it looks like.”

***

The cab ride to the airport was a blur. So was the flight, and the ride to her hotel. It wasn’t until Aelin locked the door of her hotel room and set down her bags, that the events of the day finally hit her.

Whether it was adrenaline or shock or relief, she couldn’t be sure. Aelin fell back onto the bed and rubbed her face, groaning. She thought back to that morning when everything had been fine.

Fine, not great, just fine. That’s how things always felt with Chaol, just fine.

Her brain was still working through what happened when she jolted up from the bed, eyes wide.

“Shit. What did I do?”

Aelin scrambled towards her purse and rummaged through it. She couldn’t find it; maybe she didn't take it. She turned the bag upside down over the bed and watched as her things fell out. She pushed aside her little paperback mystery novel, her lipstick, her boarding pass, she moved aside a wrinkled coupon and froze.

“Fuck.”

***

After wearing a track into the carpet with her pacing, Aelin decided to call Lysandra. It was going about as well as she expected.

“Lysandra, I did a bad thing.”

Aelin chewed her fingernail between her teeth, a bad habit she couldn’t kick when she was stressed, as she tried to tell her best friend what just happened. She was standing on the small balcony of her hotel hoping the fresh air would help clear her mind. So far, it wasn't doing a great job.

“Aelin,” Lysandra’s voice sounded amused through her phone, “This is you were talking about, you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”

Rolling her eyes, Aelin ran a hand through her hair. “I did a petty, horrible, impulsive, really bad thing.”

There was a long pause as Lysandra seemed to realize how serious Aelin sounded.

“Okay. Now I’m getting worried.” Then a sharp gasp, “Was it illegal? Have you been arrested? Are you calling me from a foreign prison?”

“Lys—” Aelin tried cutting in, she wanted to stop the hysterics before her friend’s imagination got out of hand.

“When you told me you were going on a trip with Chaol I thought you’d be spending time on the beach, not using me as your one phone call from a dirty jail cell hundreds of miles away!”

“Lysandra!”

“And where’s Chaol? Is he there with you?”

“Lysandra, stop! I haven’t been arrested, I’m not in prison, I’m fine. Actually, I’m great.” Aelin closed her eyes and sighed, trying to scrounge up some guilt but failing. “Actually, it's because I’m feeling great that makes what I did so much worse, because I don’t really feel bad about it.”

“Don’t scare me like that.” Her friend's voice echoed in her ear. “If you’re fine, then tell me what happened and tell me why you’re calling me at,” she paused and groaned, “six in the morning.”

“Sorry,” Aelin winced, “I’m still on a different time frame.”

“Still? Where are you now? Are you not in Antica anymore?”

“Slow down, Lys.” Aelin loosed a breath and ran a hand through her hair, “I’m back in Terrasen.”

“What? When did you get back?” Lysandra sounded confused, and Aelin couldn't blame her, after all, she was supposed to be in Antica for four more days.

“Today. Less than an hour ago. I’m at a hotel, I just needed to clear my head.”

After a moment of silence, Lysandra asked again, “Where’s Chaol? Have you talked to him about whatever this is? Not that he’d help much “Lysandra muttered the last part, but Aelin still heard.

Here we go, Aelin thought, “No. We broke up.”

“What?” Lysandra was definitely awake now. “Really? Oh, honey, I’m sorry if you’re hurting, but good for you, I never really liked him.”

“Yeah, I know.” Aelin barked a wry laugh, “He dumped me, actually.”

“He dumped you?”

Aelin barked another laugh, getting angry as she told Lysandra the rest, “Get this, that bastard invited me on this trip specifically to break up with me”

“What the actual fuck?”

“Yeah, and honestly?” Aelin took a deep breath, feeling a mess of emotions as she explained. “I can’t blame him.” She amended herself quickly at Lysandra's sound of protest, “I don’t mean about taking me on a trip to do it, because that’s fucked up, but I mean the actual breaking up part. I knew it was going to happen sooner or later, it was more about who would pull the trigger first. Come on, Lys, you knew I was more excited to spend a week on the beach than to spend a week with him.”

Lysandra snorted, “Yeah, Ace, I knew that. I was hoping you realized that, too.”

“Well, I did. So, I left. I’m back in Terrasen, there was no way I was staying there with him any longer, that would’ve been too weird.”

Aelin could hear Lysandra’s coffee machine buzz to life through the phone and suddenly wished she had a cup of coffee. Once she figured this mess out, she’d go find a cafe.

“Right. Okay,” The brunette’s voice rang out, “let me get this straight, Chaol took you on a trip solely to break up with you, and now you’re back in Terrasen while he’s still on the Southern Continent. I’m still not seeing what exactly you did that’s making you freak out.”

At that, Aelin flopped back onto the bed and flung an arm over her face, groaning.

“I know breaking up with Chaol is for the best, Hellas, I feel relieved. But at that moment, I was so angry. I was furious that he’d take me on this trip instead of just doing it at home like a normal-fucking-person—I mean, who takes a break-up vacation? Anyways, when I was packing my things to leave, I, kinda, sorta, took something of his.”

“Aelin…what did you do?”

Aelin looked at the foot of the bed where the remains of her purse were strewn over the blanket. Her eyes caught on two matching little booklets with gold seals on them.

“I stole his passport.”

***

“Ms. Galathynius—”

“Aelin, please.” She cut off the silver-haired man behind the desk.

The only change in his stoic demeanor was a small twitch of his lips. “Aelin. Can you explain what exactly you’re trying to mail, that looks like that—”

‘That’ being the layers of spare newspaper she found tucked away in her hotel room haphazardly wrapped and tied with the thread from the complimentary sewing kit, also from her hotel room. She hadn’t been able to find any tape. Aelin thought if she brought it to the post office then she could re-package it with actual materials, but she’d chosen not to unwrap it before getting there. An obvious mistake.

“—to an official, protected, government Embassy?” His voice was stern and his green eyes steady.

This looked bad. Aelin could easily admit that this looked really bad.

She placed her hands on his desk and watched as his eyes tracked the movement. “I can explain. It's definitely not as bad as I’m sure you think it is.”

He remained silent, watching her expectantly.

She caught sight of the nameplate on the side of his desk. “Mr. Whitethorn—”

“Rowan, please.”

Did he sound amused?

Taking confidence from that, she sat up a little straighter and said, “Rowan,”

His mouth quirked a little higher as she said his name.

Clearing her throat, she started again, “Rowan, you can open the package, I assure you it's nothing bad. It’s just a passport.”

One of his eyebrows rose skeptically, “A passport?” He asked doubtfully.

“Yes, a passport. That’s why I was trying to send it to the embassy. It belongs to my b—ex.” She stumbled over the last word, still unused to Chaol’s new title.

He—Rowan—looked even more intrigued.

“You’re mailing your ex their passport, but decided to wrap it in the most suspicious, threatening way possible?”

Aelin winced. “I didn’t have many options.” She chuckled, remembering trying to tie the string together in the hotel bathroom’s fluorescent lights. “I thought I could fix it once I got here, but I didn’t even have a chance to ask for materials before being escorted in here.” She waved a hand vaguely and looked around his office.

Rowan was fully smirking now. He leaned back in his chair and watched her for a long moment. “It is my job to confiscate suspect packages. Especially when those packages are being sent to, say, a government building.”

Leaning forward slightly she smiled and told him, “Well, you seem to be very good at your job.”

Gods, was she flirting? She and Chaol literally just broke up. But she couldn’t deny she was attracted to Rowan. Not with the way his pine-green eyes lit up with amusement or the way the muscles in his arms flexed when he shifted in his chair. Not to mention that tattoo; she was a sucker for tattoos—and she’d never told him this, but it always disappointed Aelin that Chaol never even considered getting any ink.

Good gods, she was flirting. And not very well.

Still smirking, Rowan leaned forward and asked, “Care to tell me why you’re sending your ex their passport?”

Was it her imagination or did he say ‘ex’ like it was the most interesting word in his question.

She couldn't stop the small smile twisting her lips. “I don't see how the ‘why’ of it is any of your business.”

Rowan surveyed her and Aelin tried not to blush under his gaze. She couldn't stop herself from comparing him to Chaol, he never made her feel this flustered with just a stare. Rowan's eyes tracked her face, tracked the way her cheeks heated, and she tried with all her might to fight the blush.

She wasn’t a teenager with a crush, she was a woman who knew how good she looked and was very attracted to the man whose eyes had not stopped roaming over her. She fought down the blush and flipped her hair over her shoulder, smiling charmingly at him.

He seemed to like it and his grin widened before putting on a faux stern face.

“I try to be as thorough as possible, Aelin,” Gods, the way he said her name made her toes curl. “It would make things easier if you explained why. I could finish my paperwork quicker, get this thing sent off, and we’d both be free of this passport and your ex.”

Wow, he wasn't beating around the bush. She liked it.

He sent her a slow grin, “I’d be able to take my break at nine, and go for a cup of coffee.”

The way he said the last part left no room for guessing what he meant. He wanted to take her out for coffee.

A small part of her hesitated, she had just broken up with Chaol. But on the other hand, he took her on a fucking breakup vacation, so screw him and she could do whatever the hell she wanted. And she wanted Rowan. She wanted to go get coffee with Rowan.

So she smiled, winked at him, and said, “I’m mailing it back to him because I stole it from him.”

Rowan’s smile faltered and he blinked.

“You what?”

“I stole it from him.”

He stared at her another moment before a chuckle escaped his lips and he was shaking his head but smirking.

“You stole his passport.” He sounded very amused as he wrote a note down, most likely for the report he’d have to file.

“Yup,” Aelin’s grin turned feline, “He took me on vacation to break up with me, so I stole his passport and left him there.”

Rowan stopped writing and looked at her with raised eyebrows, “He’s still there? You have his passport, and now he’s stuck,” Rowan glanced at his notes, “in Antica?”

Aelin laughed; a loud, cheerful, sound that filled the office and pulled a small grin onto Rowan’s lips.

“Okay, I’m sure you think I’m a bit crazy,” Her grin didn't falter, “but it was impulsive and as soon as I realized what I actually did, you know, kinda leaving him stranded there, I tried to send it back to him. I couldn't remember what the hotel was, so I figured the embassy would be a good choice given it's a passport, and he is from Adarlan.”

“He’s from Adarlan, you’re not?” Rowan asked.

Aelin smirked, “That’s what you got from what I said?”

He matched her smirk, “That's what I want to know.”

“No,” Aelin shook her head and glanced out the window in his office, “I’m from here, Terrasen is in my blood.���

It seemed like that was the answer Rowan was looking for. He smiled, wrote down a final note, and looked back at her.

“I think that’s all I need right now, Aelin,” Again, the way he said her name sent butterflies flitting around her stomach.

He stood up and she did the same, pulling her purse back over her shoulder. He walked around his desk and opened the door for her.

“Aelin,” Rowan’s voice made her pause as she stood in the open doorway.

“Yes, Rowan?” she looked up at him expectantly with a small smile.

“I take my break in half an hour, there's a coffee shop just down the block, if you want to hang around or come back then, I'd like to take you out for coffee.”

Aelin smiled brightly at him and nodded, “I’d like that. I’ll come back in half an hour.”

He grinned and held her gaze another moment before she turned to leave.

“Oh, and Rowan?” She turned back to look at him but saw he already—or still—had his eyes on her.

“Yeah?”

“You don't have to use express shipping on that, it's fine if it takes a couple days.”

The sound of Rowan’s deep laughter followed her through the doors.

*****

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