#efficient printer

[techdriveplay]

What Should You Consider When Purchasing a New Printer?

When it comes to outfitting your home or office with new technology, one decision that can significantly impact productivity and convenience is choosing the right printer. With so many options available, it can be overwhelming to determine what should you consider when purchasing a new printer. From the latest features to cost considerations, understanding your specific needs and the…

[popcornkwantum]

:D I love Nicky so much

I'll be making these into (handmade) stickers and will be giving them out for FREE at both the upcoming Elfia event and at Heroes Dutch Comic Con (summer edition)

I actually don't think anyone from the Netherlands follows me on here but uuuhh if you do plan on going to one/both events, keep an eye out for someone in a badly made Taylor cosplay and you will be granted with one of these bad bois >:)

[normcdf]

this truly has been shoko kaisen

[ranger-kellyn]

my favorite part about being in the office is when people turn on the shitty fluorescent light that’s directly above my desk first thing in the morning so I’m dying under how bright it is AND how loud it squeals. it’s great. I love it here 🫠

[falltumn]

closing my shop on 12/12 (2 days from now!) for the holidays! ^_^ i'll open it back up next year

🌼 SNEAKRET STORE!! 🌼

excited to announce that i'm FINALLY opening up my little shop! ^_^ quantities of most things are super limited for right now! each product page lists the remaining amount :-) i'm testing out how this goes and if it goes well i have a ton of other merch ideas..

[justchillgurl]

Title: Debt and Dagger Smiles.

Summary: At Kanghak High, she’s the girl everyone turns to—for help, for answers, for secrets. Controlled, calculating, she runs the school from behind her polite smile. Unseen by her, Geum Seong-je starts paying attention—and he doesn’t like what he sees. He likes it too much.

Check this out!@

Author's Note: Welcome to Debt and Dagger Smiles. This story is a slow burn—full of power plays, tension, and the clash between control and chaos. If you're into smart characters, unspoken games, and dangerous chemistry, you're in the right place. Updates will come as inspiration strikes—feel free to leave your thoughts.

Content Warnings: None (for now).

_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_☆_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_☆_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠_☆_⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠____

Chapter 1: The Balance Sheet.

At Kanghak High, no one held the web of whispers tighter than her.

She walked the halls with a quiet, calculating ease—her uniform always crisp, her eyes always focused, her phone never more than a breath away. Most students thought of her as approachable, reliable, the kind of girl you’d ask for help with a project or directions to the nearest printer. And sometimes, she said yes. But only after calculating the weight of the favor.

Because nothing came free.

She didn’t offer kindness out of softness. Her generosity was strategic. She said yes when it mattered—when the person asking held potential. A future teacher’s pet. A student council officer. Someone whose name would matter on a list. Those who received her help might think they got lucky.

They didn’t.

They were already in her pocket.

She didn’t waste time with the Union. Despite their presence in the school and the vague air of intimidation they carried, she saw them as distractions. She wasn’t trying to control through fists—she was building something smarter. Cleaner.

In her notebook, color-coded and organized to military precision, she kept track of every test date, every exam format, and every student in the top ten. Her grades were near perfect, and she made sure to keep it that way. While others stayed out late or fought behind buildings, she was home by eight sharp. Her family didn’t tolerate disobedience, and she didn’t test their limits.

Not publicly.

What no one knew was that she ran the school blog.

Anonymous. Undefinable. Ruthless.

She didn’t write everything, of course. She barely wrote at all. But she knew what was happening—who was cheating, who was skipping, who was crying behind the lockers. Gossip reached her before it hit group chats. Secrets traveled faster when people trusted you, and she made sure everyone trusted her just enough to slip up.

Geum Seong-je watched her from the corner of the school convenience store.

She didn’t notice him. Not because she wasn’t observant, but because he wasn’t in her circle. Not worth tracking. Not yet.

He’d seen her around, of course. Everyone had. But this was the first time he paid attention.

She stood in front of the drink fridge, scanning the labels like she had a spreadsheet in her head comparing caffeine levels. Her movements were efficient, deliberate. No wasted steps. She picked a small can of black coffee and a rice ball, paid in coins, and dropped the receipt in her bag.

Not once did she smile.

When another student tried to stop her near the exit—some third-year begging for help printing a missing assignment—she tilted her head slightly, brows pinched as if already calculating.

“What do you do again?” she asked.

“I’m vice secretary of—”

“Of the eco club,” she finished. “Right. You owe me. Done. Send me the file. I’ll print it. But you’re collecting survey data for me next month. No complaints.”

The girl nodded quickly.

She walked off without confirming. The favor was made. The debt recorded.

Seong-je didn’t move. He leaned back into the shelf, hood pulled low, watching her disappear past the glass doors.

Interesting.

He’d heard rumors before—of how she always had the answers to tests before they dropped, how her notes circled among the elite students, how she knew when a relationship ended before either person confirmed it. He’d assumed most of it was exaggerated.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

She didn’t just survive in this school.

She ran it—quietly, efficiently, and with terrifying precision.

--------------------------------------------------

End of Chapter 1.

Chapter 1 has been updated to third-person POV.

Thank you for reading🫂.

[pukefactory]

HELLO !! I I JSUT WNATED TO SAY i love your psots so muhc...

For my request coral glasses/reader cuddling headcanons please... 🙏🫶🥹

Thank you in advance!! 💖🎀

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I sort of went into mild overdrive when I saw this request. I adore writing for Coral Glasses, and since it’s been a while, I quickly jotted these down in a burst of inspiration. Enjoy!

- SAINT RUNE

.・゜✧ WATER’S EMBRACE ✧゜・．

╰► Summary: A Compilation of Cuddling Headcanons Featuring Coral Glasses X Reader

╰► Character(s): Coral Glasses (Ena: Dream BBQ)

╰► Genre: Headcanons, SFW

╰► Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

╰► Image Credits: @JoelG

›› It’s not that she hates physical affection. It’s just she’s ninety-seven percent sure it wasn’t in the contract. And even if it was, Coral Glasses would still be sitting beside you on the futon like she’s preparing to be interrogated by a sentient filing cabinet. “…So. You’re saying we lie down and do nothing? At each other?” Despite the nerves, her coral eye flickers with soft red pulses—like it’s testing its own heartbeat. She eventually leans into your side with the stiff poise of someone trying not to smudge a freshly printed graph.

›› Coral’s default cuddling position is The Misaligned 404 Error: she’s perpendicular to you on the couch, head on your chest, legs dangling off the edge, body halfway falling off the furniture. It’s not elegant. It’s not efficient. But when you ask if she’s comfy, she responds: “Comfort? I don’t think I’ve felt that before… Possibly during a childhood nosebleed…”

›› She’s always sweating. Not from exertion—just existential stress. Even during a soft, quiet cuddle session, her skin stays damp like she’s in a constant state of micro-panic. “I promise this is the normal amount of perspiration for someone whose boss is a disembodied memory-fog cloud.” Still, when you stroke her hair or rub her back, she short-circuits in the nicest way: she forgets her job, her inbox, the coral loops slowing to lazy spirals… just for a moment.

›› Her coral sometimes tries to mimic you when you touch her. If you’re holding her face, the coral’s red loops mirror your hand’s shape like it’s trying to learn what “comfort” is by osmosis. She notices once and just says: “Er…my prosthetic is emotionally codependent now. Great. Guess I’ll have to apply for mutual therapy.”

›› Coral mumbles a lot during cuddles, but it’s not sweet pillow talk. It’s things like: “If I go missing for too long, they’ll assume I’ve been taxidermied.” “Do you think the Horse Door knows I have scoliosis?” “Wait…did I send that email to you or to the department that eats lightbulbs?” It’s okay. You just hold her tighter, and she sighs like she’s finally found the pause button.

›› She panics if you try to spoon her without warning. “Wh—why are you wrapping yourself around me?! Is this a security breach?!” But once the adrenaline wears off, she sort of purrs? Well—not literally. But she makes this low, relieved hum in her throat, like an overworked fax machine being turned off for the weekend. You can feel it vibrate gently against your ribs.

›› You once brought her a blanket during a cuddle session. She stared at it like it was cursed. “Wait. This is warm…on purpose? And soft? Is this… a gift or a test?” Now she can’t sleep without that exact blanket, and she claims it’s for “data retention reasons.” The coral sometimes tries to absorb parts of it, as if wanting to keep a piece of the softness inside.

›› Her hair always smells like printer ink and saltwater. You’ve gotten used to it. She hasn’t. “Sorry. My shampoo is just a Xerox machine and grief.” When you bury your face into her hair and tell her it smells like home, she goes quiet. The coral loops pause. “…That’s not scientifically accurate. But I… think I’ll let it be true for now.”

›› If you fall asleep first during cuddles, Coral will not move. She becomes a terrified statue of affection, frozen stiff like you’re a priceless museum exhibit she doesn’t want to disturb. She whispers updates to herself to stay awake. “Okay. It’s been seventeen minutes. Subject appears peaceful. No signs of drool. Mission: Don’t mess it up, Coral. Don’t you dare—ACHOO—! …Oh no.” Still, when you stir and snuggle back in, her nervous breathing slows. A little.

›› Eventually, cuddling becomes her reset button. Whenever she’s overwhelmed, whenever the world feels like one big, unsolvable maths problem—she finds you. Climbs onto your lap. Melts into your chest. She won’t say it out loud (not unless bribed), but her coral flickers red in slow, gentle waves. And she breathes: “…I don’t understand how this works. But I think I need it.”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Who Broke the Internet? Part III

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in PDX on Jun 20 at BARNES AND NOBLE with BUNNIE HUANG. After that, it's LONDON (Jul 1) and MANCHESTER (Jul 2).

Episode 3 of "Understood: Who Broke the Internet?" (my new CBC podcast about enshittification) just dropped. It's called "In God We Antitrust," and it's great:

https://www.cbc.ca/listen/cbc-podcasts/1353-the-naked-emperor/episode/16147052-in-god-we-antitrust

The thesis of this four-part series is pretty straightforward: the enshittification of the internet was the result of an enshittogenic policy environment. Platforms always had the technical means to scam us and abuse us. Tech founders and investors always included a cohort of scumbags who would trade our happiness and wellbeing for their profits. What changed was the consequences of giving in to those impulses. When Google took off, its founders' mantra was "competition is just a click away." If someone built a better search engine, users could delete their google.com bookmarks, just like they did to their altavista.com bookmarks when Google showed up.

Policymakers – not technologists or VCs – changed the environment so that this wasn't true anymore:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/05/08/who-broke-the-internet/#bruce-lehman

In last week's episode, we told the story of Bruce Lehman, the Clinton administration's Copyright Czar, who swindled the US government into passing a law that made it illegal to mod, hack, reverse-engineer or otherwise improve on an existing technology:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/05/13/ctrl-ctrl-ctrl/#free-dmitry

This neutralized a powerful anti-enshittificatory force: interoperability. All digital tech is born interoperable, because of the intrinsic characteristics of computers, their flexibility. This means that tech is inherently enshittification-resistant. When a company enshittifies its products or services, its beleaguered users and suppliers don't have to wait for a regulator to punish it. They don't have to wait for a competitor to challenge it.

Interoperable tools – ad-blockers, privacy blockers, alternative clients, mods, plugins, firmware patches and other hacks – offer immediate, profound relief from enshittification. Every ten foot pile of shit that a tech company drops into your life can be met with an eleven foot ladder of disenshittifying, interoperable technology.

That's why Lehman's successful attack on tinkering was so devastating. Before Lehman, tech had achieved a kind of pro-user equilibrium: every time a company made its products worse, they had to confront a thousand guerrilla technologists who unilaterally unfucked things: third party printer ink, file-format compatibility, protocol compatibility, all the way up to Unix, a massive operating system that was painstakingly re-created, piece by piece, in free software.

Lehman offered would-be enshittifiers a way to shift this equilibrium to full enshittification: just stick a digital lock on your product. It didn't even matter if the lock worked – under Lehman's anticircumvention law, tampering with a lock, even talking about weaknesses in a lock, became a literal felony, punishable by a five-year prison sentence and a $500K fine. Lehman's law was an offer no tech boss would refuse, and enshittification ate the world.

But Lehman's not the only policymaker who was warned about the consequences of his terrible plans, who ignored the warnings, and who disclaims any responsibility for the shitty world that followed. Long before Lehman's assault on tech policy, another group of lawyers and economists laid waste to competition policy.

In the 1960s and 1970s, a group of Chicago School economists conceived of an absurd new way to interpret competition law, which they called "the consumer welfare standard." Under this standard, the job of competition policy was to encourage monopolies to form, on the grounds that monopolies were "efficient" and would lower prices for "consumers."

The chief proponent of this standard was Robert Bork, a virulent racist whose most significant claim to fame was that he was the only government lawyer willing to help Richard Nixon illegally fire officials who wouldn't turn a blind eye to his crimes. Bork's long record of unethical behavior and scorching bigotry came back to bite him in the ass when Ronald Reagan tried to seat him on the Supreme Court, during a confirmation hearing that Bork screwed up so badly that even today, we use "borked" as a synonym for anything that is utterly fucked.

But Bork's real legacy was as a pro-monopoly propagandist, whose work helped shift how judges, government enforcers, and economists viewed antitrust law. Bork approached the text of America's antitrust laws, like the Sherman Act and the Clayton Act, with the same techniques as a Qanon follower addressing a Q "drop," applying gnostic techniques to find in these laws mystical coded language that – he asserted – meant that Congress had intended for America's anti-monopoly laws to actually support monopolies.

In episode three, we explore Bork's legacy, and how it led to what Tom Eastman calls the internet of "five giant websites, each filled with screenshots of the other four." We got great interviews and old tape for this one, including Michael Wiesel, a Canadian soap-maker who created a bestselling line of nontoxic lip-balm kits for kids, only to have Amazon shaft him by underselling him with his own product.

But the most interesting interview was with Lina Khan, the generational talent who became the youngest-ever FTC chair under Joe Biden, and launched an all-out assault on American monopolies and their vile depredations:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/14/making-good-trouble/#the-peoples-champion

Khan's extraordinary rise to power starts with a law review paper she wrote in her third year at Yale, "Amazon's Antitrust Paradox," which became the first viral law review article in history:

https://www.yalelawjournal.org/note/amazons-antitrust-paradox

"Amazon's Antitrust Paradox" was a stinging rebuke to Bork and his theories, using Amazon's documented behavior to show that after Amazon used its monopoly power to lower prices and drive rivals out of the market, it subsequently raised prices. And, contrary to Bork's theories, those new, high prices didn't conjure up new rivals who would enter the market with lower prices again, eager to steal Amazon's customers away. Instead, Amazon's demonstrated willingness to cross-subsidize divisions gigantic losses to destroy any competitor with below-cost pricing created a "kill zone" of businesses adjacent to the giant's core enterprise that no one dared enter:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/how-biden-can-clean-up-obamas-big

The clarity of Khan's writing, combined with her careful research and devastating conclusions dragged a vast crowd of people who'd never paid much attention to antitrust – including me! – into the fray. No wonder that four years later, she was appointed to serve as the head of the FTC, making her the most powerful consumer rights regulator in the world.

We live in an age of monopolies, with cartels dominating every part of our lives, acting as "autocrats of trade" and "kings over the necessaries of life," the corporate dictators that Senator John Sherman warned about when he was stumping for the 1890 Sherman Act, America's first antitrust law:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/20/we-should-not-endure-a-king/

Bork and his co-religionists created this age. They're the reason we live in world where we have to get our "necessaries of life" from a cartel, a duopoly or a monopoly. It's not because the great forces of history transformed the economy – it's because of these dickheads:

https://www.openmarketsinstitute.org/learn/monopoly-by-the-numbers

This episode of "Understood: Who Borked the Internet?" draws a straight line from those economists and their ideas to the world we live in today. It sets up the final episode, next week's "Kick 'Em in the Dongle," which charts a course for us to escape from the hellscape created by Bork, Lehman, and their toadies and trolls.

You can get "Understood: Who Broke the Internet?" in any podcast app, even the seriously enshittified ones (which, let's be real here, is most of them). Here's a direct link to the RSS:

https://www.cbc.ca/podcasting/includes/nakedemperor.xml

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/05/19/khan-thought/#they-were-warned

[internetdaddy98]

Point of Care

Previous | Next [Series Masterlist]

Pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!SeniorResident!Reader Summary: Robby and Y/N share a quiet dinner at a cozy, dimly lit restaurant, where they allow their relationship to move past the secrecy and uncertainty that has defined it. 

Word Count: 1.9 K Content Warning: Medical procedures, will most likely be medically inaccurate at times.

The HR office was tucked away in the admin wing, far from the chaos of the ER, far from the trauma bay and the noise of overhead codes. You had only been here once before, during your orientation. It smelled like coffee, printer toner, and bureaucratic permanence.

Robby walked beside you, his hand grazing yours occasionally but never quite closing the distance. They weren’t here for declarations or fireworks. Just a form. A conversation. A choice made real on paper. The HR coordinator, a polite woman named Marissa, greeted them with a curious smile when they entered. “Dr. Robinavitch, Dr. Sheridan, what can I help you with?”

Robby cleared his throat, but it was you who spoke first. Your voice was clear and composed.

“We’d like to disclose a personal relationship, in accordance with policy.” Marissa blinked. Then smiled with polite surprise. “Of course. Give me just a moment.” Marissa made a few notes. “And Dr. Robinavitch is not your direct supervisor for evaluations, correct?”

“He oversees me clinically during shifts, but my academic advisor and evaluation lead is Dr. Langdon,” you clarified.

“Good,” Marissa said, with an approving tone. “Then this will go in your file as a disclosed relationship with no formal conflict of interest. It’ll be flagged in case of any potential future issues—scheduling, assessments, anything like that. Transparency protects both of you.”

She handed them the forms, two copies each, standard hospital-issue. Disclosure, acknowledgment, consent. You signed quickly. Robby paused for just a moment before adding his signature.

When you were done, Marissa took the forms back with a practiced efficiency. “You’re all set. I appreciate you coming in. It speaks well of both of you.”

“Thanks,” Robby said, rising with a polite nod. You followed, the knot between your shoulders easing a little.

When you stepped out into the hallway a few minutes later, you bumped your shoulder gently against his arm. “So… that’s it?”

Robby nodded. “That’s it. You’re officially my HR-sanctioned problem now.”

You laughed under your breath. “And you’re mine.”

They didn’t kiss, didn’t hold hands, not here. But they walked back toward the elevators side by side, a little lighter, a little steadier. No more secrets. No more limbo.

Just them.

By the book. ---------------------------------

You celebrated by having a romantic dinner. It was a quiet corner table in a warm, dimly lit restaurant tucked between buildings older than either of you. The kind of place with flickering candles in amber glass holders and exposed brick walls soaked in years of laughter and whispered conversation. Outside, the city bustled in its usual rhythm, but in here, the world had narrowed to just the two of you, seated across from each other like the edge of a confession neither had fully spoken aloud.

You looked different now. Softer somehow, your long hair curled loose over your shoulders, cheeks touched with warmth that wasn’t just from the wine you’d shared. You were in a sweater that slipped a little off one shoulder, and jeans, and no trace of the badge that usually clung to you like armor. Robby couldn’t stop looking at you. Not in a possessive way, but in the way a man looked at something he’d convinced himself he could never deserve.

And yet, here they were.

The silence between them was comfortable now, not cautious. A shared peace that had taken months of slow-burning tension, half-spoken words, and stolen moments to arrive at.

“I think Dana’s onto us,” You murmured with a wry smile, your fingers gently circling the rim of your wine glass.

Robby let out a quiet laugh, his eyes crinkling. “Dana’s been onto us since last winter.”

You laughed, and the sound made his chest ache. He’d once thought he’d never hear you laugh like that, freely, without hesitation. It felt like a kind of miracle. Your voice belonged to him now in a way he would never take for granted.

He reached across the table and let his fingers graze yours. You met him halfway, linking your hands slowly, tenderly, like this was the first time all over again.

“I don’t want to hide anymore,” you said softly.

His thumb brushed the inside of your wrist. Your pulse was fast. So was his. “Me neither.”

“I mean it,” you said, eyes locked on his. “Not just sneaking around. Not just seeing each other when we’re off shift. I don’t want this to be something temporary or secret or… cautious. I don’t want to keep pretending like I’m not completely, terrifyingly in love with you.”

The words stunned him in the gentlest way. Not because he hadn’t known, he had. But because you’d said it without fear, without retreating. Just you, laid bare, offering everything.

He swallowed hard. “Jesus, Y/N…”

You didn’t look away. “I need to know if you feel the same. If this is just… something you’re trying not to regret. Or if you’re in this, really in it.”

He was quiet for a long moment.

Then he exhaled, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it.

“I’ve spent my whole life living by rules I thought would protect people. Thought if I kept my distance, if I didn’t let anyone get too close, I could control the outcomes. No one got hurt. No one depended on me more than they should. I survived that way. But I wasn’t living. Not really.”

He looked up, and his eyes were glassy. “You undid me. In the best goddamn way. And now I don’t want to imagine a version of this life where you’re not in it.”

You blinked hard, your fingers tightening around his.

He added, quieter, “This isn’t just some late midlife crisis, some reckless mistake. You’re it, my sweet Sheri. You’re it for me.”

The candle between them flickered like it knew. You smiled slowly, radiant and soft and just a little broken open, and he thought you’d never looked more beautiful.

You sat there for a long time, fingers tangled on the tabletop, trading small stories about your first impressions, the awkward early days of your residency, the way Dana had teased Robby mercilessly after catching him staring at you one too many times during rounds. He told you he remembered your first shift like it was yesterday, the way you’d walked into the trauma bay with your tiny frame and enormous eyes, so quiet he’d nearly overlooked you. And then you’d stepped up to run a code with the kind of calm confidence that made him stop in his tracks.

You told him about all the nights you’d gone home aching because you’d wanted so badly to impress him, not just as your attending, but as a man you admired, respected, maybe even adored long before you admitted it.

By the time dessert arrived, something chocolate you didn’t really touch, you were leaning toward each other across the table, full of memory and warmth, the gravity between you undeniable.

You looked at him, your brown eyes soft, clear, and deeply certain. There was something about the way you were watching him, steadier than he’d ever seen, though your cheeks were flushed, and your lips slightly parted like you had something just on the edge of confession.

“Come home with me,” you said, gentle and sure.

The words pulled something from deep inside him, a jolt of surprise, not because he didn’t want to, but because it felt like stepping over another boundary he hadn’t let himself imagine crossing until now.

Her home.

Her life.

He hesitated only for a breath, and in that breath, your fingers gripped his tighter, anchoring him.

“It’s okay,” you added quietly. “You don’t have to. I just— I want you to see me. Not just in your apartment. Not just at work. I want you to know who I am when the day is over and everything’s quiet.”

And how could he say no to that?

He nodded. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I want that too.”

Outside, the night was cold, but when he pulled your coat around your shoulders and kissed your temple like a promise, you didn’t feel a thing but his hand in yours and the heat of the future unfolding in front of them.

Your apartment was in Shadyside, tucked on a quiet tree-lined street in a high-ceilinged brownstone with soft golden light spilling through arched windows. The interior was warm and elegant, mid-century furniture, thick rugs, bookshelves crammed with everything from poetry to medical journals, candles you actually burned, and little details that made Robby pause in the doorway as he took it all in.

It smelled like you. Soft floral notes and warmth. A place he already knew would haunt him if he ever left.

You watched him with a small smile as he walked the perimeter, taking it in. His fingertips skimmed a framed photograph of your family, you and your parents at a summer estate by the water, smiling in linen and sunlight.

“You’re rich,” he said after a beat, half-joking but not really. His brow arched. “Like, actually rich.”

You rolled your eyes, amused and unbothered. “My parents are.”

“And you live like this?”

“Yeah. Why?” you teased, tilting your head. “Worried I’m a little too high society for your taste, Dr. Robinavitch?”

He smirked but said nothing, stepping closer, his eyes roaming over the apartment with new context.

You were quiet for a moment, then shrugged as you slipped off your shoes and curled up on the couch. “I never wanted anyone to know. Not at the hospital. I didn’t want it to change how they saw me. I didn’t want you to see me differently.”

“I don’t,” he said, voice low as he joined her on the couch. “It’s just another part of you. And I want to know every part.”

Your breath caught for just a second.

Then, after a moment, you said softly, “My family does Thanksgiving big. My mom starts planning in September. My dad orders wines like he’s hosting the President. We get in fights about how to roast the turkey, and there’s always at least one person crying by dessert.”

Robby watched you.

“And I’d like you to come.”

His eyes widened slightly, and for a second, the old instinct kicked in, distance, retreat, stay safe.

But you reached for his hand again, and your grip was steady, your gaze open.

“I’m not asking you to meet them tomorrow,” you said. “But I’m not hiding anymore, and I don’t want you to hide either. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it.”

He nodded, then leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple, slow and full of love. “We’re doing it.”

Later that night, he stood in the doorway of your bedroom as you changed into a soft T-shirt and shorts, your hair loose down your back, face clean of makeup. The quiet intimacy of it startled him more than sex ever could—watching you fold back the comforter, light a candle on the nightstand, and slide into bed with the ease of someone letting him in fully.

He joined you under the covers, unsure of the right way to exist in someone else’s space, but you turned toward him, warm and sleepy, and laid your head on his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re going to hate how early I wake up,” He mumbled.

“I already do.”

He laughed softly as he held you.

They stayed like that for a long time, limbs tangled under the weight of down and history and the kind of love that doesn’t always announce itself loudly, but settles deep, unwavering.And sometime in the early morning, just before the sun rose, Robby looked down at the woman sleeping against his side, her lashes dark against her cheek, her breath soft and even, and thought: This is it. This is home.

-------------

Want to join the taglist? shoot me a comment! @rosiepoise88 @nosebeers @andabuttonnose @luvr4miya @cannonindeez @hagarsays @captainoates @lemonlime09 @delicateflorencia @iceb1ink1uck @moonshooter @qardasngan @penbridgertonn @foreverchangingfandoms @msdariaknight

[contact-guy]

I ordered a copy of Watson's Sketchbook at the start of the month. Around when are you gonna send them?

wanted to reply to this publicly - we are continuing to print and ship out the Sketchbook, a big batch went out last week and they will continue going out as I receive them. I'm working with a small US-based printer who has been undergoing construction at their office (to make their printing process bigger and more efficient, good news for the second volume of WS!) and so printing has taken longer than anticipated. thanks for your patience, everyone! If your address changes in the meantime, you can always contact the shop to update it.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Idia Shroud - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Mister S's Mystery Shop]

Idia: …Hrrm, I can't find the 15th Anniversary special Star Rogue diorama.

Idia: I told Sam-shi I'd look for it myself, so I wouldn't have to deal with him talking to me, but… There's way too much stuff here to look through!

Idia: And I came all this way 'cause I wasn't fast enough to get it online.

Idia: I can't go back empty-handed after telling Ortho that there's no way I wouldn't get my hands on one as a number one fanboy!

Idia: Oho? This shelf over here has a ton of specialty figures and other hobby stuff… EEHHHH!?

[products fall of shelf]

Idia: OUCH! OW OW OW!!

Jack: Woah!? That was close! Some of the falling goods almost scraped by my nose…

Idia: I-I-I didn't do anything! They just fell off on their own since they were thrown haphazardly onto the shelf!!

[Idia runs away]

Jack: Huh? No one said it was your fault or nothin'…

Jack: …What the, he's already gone! Idia-senpai… He looks slow and frail, but is he secretly actually pretty nimble?

Jack: Oh, man, and he just left everything on the ground. Ugh, I guess I'll have to…

Jack: …Hm? Isn't this box the one Ortho mentioned today…?

[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia's Room]

Idia: …Haah. And in the end, I just ran away… Without a Star Rogue diorama…

Idia: It's all because they sold it first-come-first-serve, instead of pre-order... Not my fault what happened earlier…

Idia: If I went back now, that terrifying beast of a man from Savanaclaw might still be there. I'll try again tomorrow…

Idia: K. Now that I've decide that, time to get all the annoying dorm work stuff done!

Idia: Uhhh, so, the notices I have to give the other dorm students are… Oh, right, the equipment replacement schedule, and the AC inspection time.

Idia: Just in case, I'll add "Important", "Good News", "Response Required", and "Read Immediately" to the subject… K, sent.

Idia: It sure is hard work bein' a Housewarden. Thought it's not that bad since I implemented a chat app once I became Housewarden.

Idia: Efficiency above all! No face-to-face meetings! Conserving my own energy is the best way to do things!

Idia: Finished all my Housewarden tasks, and even took a shower, as annoying as it is. I'm awesome. I'd give myself 100,000,000 points out of 100.

Idia: Nice, so… It's finally me time!

[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia's Room]

Idia: Ah, I got a message from Ortho… He's spending the night in the first year rooms, huh.

Idia: Then, I guess I can just game all night by myself! Fheeheehee!

 [beep, beep!]

Idia: Hm…? What's with this reminder…? Man, right when I was getting into things.

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Idia: Ugh.. Right, that was a thing. You don't really see paper surveys anymore. Let me think, it should be around… Yep, here it is.

Idia: Uhhh, so what, they want to know what I'd like improved? I mean, kinda late to ask a third-year, isn't it? I can't really think of anything.

Idia: Sides, there were stuff I used to not like about the dorm, but I already made upgrades to all that stuff.

Idia: We soundproofed the walls and floors, installed commercial-grade AC, and the dorm-wide servers are of my own technical specs.

Idia: To live the perfect shut-in life, we can't not have walls that can't take loud shouting, or ACs that can't keep overclocked PCs cool, so～

Idia: …Ah, wait a mo'. I just thought of one issue I got. "There's not enough electrical outlets"!!

Idia: This kinda stuff needed specialized qualifications to do, so it's not like I coulda bought the parts and DIY it.

Idia: I'm using a power strip for now 'cause I have to, but I hate how the wiring just looks like spaghetti. Even a master wiring tech like myself can't stand a sight like that!

Idia: Oh, I just thought of one more thing. "I want to have the low-capacity breaker replaced"!

Idia: It's so weak that the breaker flips just 'cause I try to have 4 computers, the server, a 3D printer, microwave, and electric kettle all plugged in at once!

Idia: I mean, I'd set up a UPS (uninterruptible power supply) system in case of emergencies, so my computers and server was fine, but...

Idia: Because of that, my plan to add an AC unit and a refrigerator in my room went out the window. That was a nightmare. Oh, and…

Idia: …Dyehehe. I said I couldn't really think of any, but it's hilarious how the ideas keep flowin' out.

Idia: I'll attach some of the numbers we have on the cost of estimated damages by having Ignihyde students continue to use those useless breakers.

Idia: The Headmage is pretty much influenced by profits, so. If I explain how it's necessary to get better equipment, then he might listen to improvement suggestions.

Idia: Nice, mission clear. Time to watch some new anime episodes while grinding levels in my gams.

Idia: See, nothing beats watching anime while mindlessly leveling… Ooh, I pulled a rare one!

Idia: I thought I'd be bored of this anime 3 episodes in, too, but it's actually starting to get interesting!

Idia: Well, now that the mood's getting good, I just gotta let loose! TIME FOR A SNACK PARTY!!

Idia: …Huh? I'm out of my favorite snack. Ugh, I completely forgot to re-order some more when I ate all of it last time.

Idia: If only the Mystery Shop had 24-hour delivery service… Maybe I should add that to the survey?

Idia: Nah, nevermind, I should just focus on the anime. NOTHING'S GONNA BRING ME DOWN!

Idia: Woah, the animation's clean…! They're all movin' so smoothly… Maybe the production team changed this week?

Idia: I'm getting pretty into the main theme song, too! Heehee, fheeheehee…!

[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia's Room]

Idia: Urrghnn… Aaarghh…

[～♪]

Idia: Gah! Urgh, what's that noise…? What time is it right now…?

Idia: Urk! Everything's so bright, I can't see anything… How's it morning already…? Wait, before that, where'd that noise come from…!?

Idia: Huh…? Ortho…? Weren't you spending the night with the other first years…? Oh wait, is this just a message…?

Idia: "HAPPY BIRTHDAY"…? Oh, right, today's my birthday! I completely forgot, since there wasn't anything to look forward to…

Idia: I'll just write back… Thanks, Ortho.

Idia: Urp…! But now I feel a bit sick…! And my whole body hurts…!

Idia: I fell asleep running my games, and I'm just stiff all over. Can't I just go move to my bed and go back to sleep?

Idia: Nah, if I end up crashing and forget to login and get all the birthday login voice lines, I'll never recover. Gotta wash my face or something…

Idia: Woah, I can see how crazy my bedhead is reflected in the monitor! I think this every time, but why does my hair end up this bad whenever I fall asleep at my desk?

Idia: Kinda looks punk, but that's totally a different vibe from my usual, lawl.

Idia: Meh, my hair can be whatever. Not like anyone looks at me, anyway.

Idia: It's a pain to go all the way to the washroom… I'll just use magic like I normally do. I'll chill the water, then.

[splash!]

Idia: WHEEEEW, THAT COLD WATER HITS JUST RIGHT!!

Idia: Normally, I'd just leave it here, but… My face feels so dry after pulling that all-nighter.

Idia: But I'm all good. I'm a functioning nerd, so I know how to fix it.

Idia: Ta-da～ I don't really get it, but here I go with the number one most popular all-in-one cream～

Idia: Putting on lotion and moisturizer one at a time is a waste of time. Just plap it on, and ta-da, done. Next is my clothes…

Idia: Nah, nevermind, I'm not gonna change. Now all I have to do is to jump into all my games and collect the birthday login voice lines. Fheeheehee.

Idia: Perf, I've gotten them all for now. …Huh? There's another message from Ortho…

Idia: …HUH!? HE GOT THE 15TH ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL STAR ROGUE DIORAMA!? SERIOUSLY!?

Idia: "I was planning on picking it up in the Mystery Shop after classes, but if you can't wait, you can go pick it up whenever"…?

Idia: Well, I gotta go right now, then! That means I have to finish getting ready.

Idia: I don't really wanna go outside, but… I can't keep my poor Star Rogue waiting! Hyah!

[Idia magics hair and clothes]

Idia: K, bedhead fixed. And now, onwards, to the Mystery Shop!!

[Main Street]

Idia: Fheeheehee…! Look at this craftsmanship…! It looks just like the scene I imagined as a kid!

Idia: Ortho… Did you look for this Star Rogue diorama because you knew I was sad I didn't get it?

Idia: Wheew～ The best thing in the world is a little brother who thinks the world of his older brother, and is really good at search functions～!

Jack: Hm? Is that… Idia-senpai? Good morning.

Idia: GYAAAAAA!? J-Jack-shi…? Why are we making contact two days in a row…?

Jack: I mean, it's not really anything, but… I heard from Ortho yesterday that today was your birthday, is all.

[Idia runs away]

Jack: Happy Birthday. So, uh, did you get what you were looking…

Jack: Huh, he's already gone! Ugh, I don't get him at all.

Requested by @farfalla049.

[pseudowho]

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Thinking about being Higuruma Hiromi's workplace bestie.

Thinking about showing up to the office for work one morning, and seeing Hiromi's not there. Automatically, you know your day is going to be long, tedious, dull. Maybe you'll actually get some work done for once.

Still, you'll miss making faces at each other at the meeting which could have been an email. You'll miss his sardonic, snippy responses to courtroom drama. You'll miss the way he calls his wastepaper bin his 'suggestions box'. You'll miss the way he sits, legs crossed on your desk, jiggling his foot constantly as you review case files together.

"Husband not in, huh?" Your colleague teases gently, and you roll your eyes, calling back over your shoulder; "Bestie, not husband!"

You sigh, walking to the office kitchen; his turn to make coffee today, but it's now just coffee for one, sadly--

"No no no, out you go, my turn to make coffee today, you--"

"Hiromi!" You squeal, visibly wiggling with delight, and Hiromi turns around with the coffee pot in his hands, briefly joining in with your happy dance, wiggling too.

"I thought you weren't in, I was ready for such a boring day!" You state, dramatic, giving his upper arm an affectionate squeeze. Hiromi tuts, "As if I'd just leave you to the wolves like that," stirring your pair of office mugs ("Mr" and "Mrs", only semi-ironically gifted to you from your Secret Santa last year).

The rest of the morning is lost in bright colours, in-jokes, corny jokes, office gossip ("You know I don't do gossip," Hiromi chides, black brows furrowed, turning his back on you momentarily...before spinning back round, leaning in and whispering, "Just pulling your leg-- tell me everything, in excruciating detail."), and getting your work done at ruthlessly efficient speeds, so in-tune are you with each other.

The endless days and weeks of being too busy to talk properly, leaving each other goofy post-in notes in files, on desks, on coffee mugs, and gradually more eccentric places-- the inside bottom of his wastepaper bin, under the printer lid, Hiromi somehow manages to sneak one onto the bottom of your shoe.

Hiromi loses almost all of his cases-- you are used to consoling him through this. Every loss wounds him. But why do they start to wound you, too? Before you can think on it too deeply, Hiromi bangs into your office one day, and you gasp, slopping coffee over your paperwork. You look up, about to curse at him--

"...you didn't," you challenge, joy blooming on Hiromi's face, and you realise, jumping up with a cheer and a clap, "You did? Oh, you won, you clever thing you, oh Hiromi!"

Hiromi fizzes like sherbet for the rest of the day, his melancholy blown away by your celebration of him. His favourite work-person-bestie-wife. He could chat with you like this all night, if only you'd let him.

Days without each other become woefully empty. The colours wash out of the walls. You barely laugh. You go home without a sense of achievement, but with the sense of a day wasted in solitude and loneliness. All of your other colleagues notice, eyebrows raised, knowing sideways glances...but you and Hiromi do not. Just work besties.

You give each other affectionate jostles goodbye when you pass each other in the corridor, folders in arms, sometimes transferring them to each other, before jostling again; "love you, byeee" (ironically, of course), as you skip and he lopes away down the corridor.

Except, one day, Hiromi's eyes are dark and distant during the jostle, the handover of paperwork, distracted and lost in something bigger...and absentmindedly he leans in, kissing you on the lips right there in the corridor, "love you, byy-"

You touch your lips. Hiromi's tongue darts out to taste his. You are both stunned, perplexed, blushing and flustered--

-- just work besties.

[seat-safety-switch]

The future of food has finally arrived. We are freed from spending a couple hours a day cooking meals, thanks to the self-heating 3D printer. Efficient, tasty, healthy food is just a few button presses away, and if you are feeling really ambitious, you can stick in an SD card and upload some pirated French cuisine. Well, pretty soon you will be able to.

Sure, it's not perfect right now. I'll be the first to admit it sometimes freaks out and tastes like dish soap and burnt hair. Especially if you put it on "shuffle." No new technology is flawless, though. I'm pretty sure that through some kind of arbitrary future miracle, this thing on my countertop that makes the lights flicker in order to shit out a brick of "turkey" will only get better from here.

Hey, don't get too down on this so-called "inedible shitloaf" that you read about in the media. What does the media even know? If they were smart, they'd be trading futures in food-printing companies. Every technology produces terrible things that are unfit for purpose.

Think of cars. At one point you couldn't even charge your smartphone inside them. And then they caught up! Now you don't need to stop texting for anything, including pedestrians. I am certain that smart people will work hard to allow me to replace a million talented kitchen staff any second now, through a process of presumed continuous improvement that I barely understand yet revere as a religious belief.

Because if they don't, my stock portfolio is gonna go in the shitter, and that will be the moral equivalent of the destruction of all human intellectual wealth. Like burning the Library of Alexandria, which I'm pretty sure is the name of a fancy porn site. So when you come to my place next time for a "barbecue" so I can show off my new cooking model, I would really appreciate it if you stopped pointing out how the burgers keep pulsing with a terrifying unlife that reminds you of the fragility of conscious existence. We're trying to make the world a better place, and there's no room for that kind of downer talk around forward-thinking innovators like me.

[cosmiclily]

chapter eleven: blurred lines

wc: 2.5k

notes: hiii!! hope everyone is well, here is a new chapter ! i love jinx in this one 😭 and also caitlyn wasn’t a bad girlfriend i just head canon modern jinx to just not like her

You woke up to the sound of your phone vibrating aggressively against your nightstand. A groggy glance at the screen revealed the caller: Archie.

It was supposed to be your day off.

After an exhausting week of nonstop promotions—and with only three days left until the album release—you all needed a moment to breathe. A chance to rest, recharge, maybe even sleep in for once. But apparently, Archie had other plans.

You groaned, blindly reaching for your phone and answering without bothering to mask your irritation.

“Someone better be dying for you to be calling me at this hour” you muttered, voice rough with sleep, eyes barely open.

“Oh, finally! Took you long enough” Archie’s voice came through the speaker, far too chipper for seven in the fucking morning. “I know it’s early, but I really needed to talk to you.”

You sighed, rubbing at your face. Archie was always a cheerful guy—you could count the number of times you'd seen him actually mad on one hand. And most of those times had been directly related to Vi’s antics. But right now? Right now, he sounded extra excited.

“To me?” you asked, frowning.

“Yes, yes—you and Violet” he said quickly. You could hear the faint shuffle of papers and the distant ringing of office phones in the background. Whatever this was, he was already deep in work mode. “Can you come down to the office, please?”

You sat up slowly, your exhaustion starting to give way to curiosity. Archie wasn’t this pushy unless it was something big.

“Should I be worried?” you asked, stretching one arm over your head.

“Not at all” he assured you. “Just get here as soon as you can.”

And so you did.

You got ready quickly, barely awake as you sent a text to Vi:

You have any idea what Archie’s on about?

She replied almost instantly.

When do we ever know what he’s planning?

Fair enough.

By the time you arrived at the office, everything looked exactly the same as it always did—the old lady at the front desk flipping through a magazine, the god-awful elevator music playing on loop, the faint hum of printers and muffled phone calls filling the air.

The only real surprise? Archie’s office wasn’t a disaster zone. Usually, it looked like a tornado had blown through—papers everywhere, coffee cups stacked like a game of Jenga, whiteboards covered in half-erased scribbles. But today? Today, everything was neatly filed, his desk actually visible for once.

That was almost more alarming than the early morning summons.

You knocked on the door, and Archie opened it almost immediately.

“What is going on?” you asked, stepping inside.

“We should wait for Violet to arrive” he said, gesturing for you to sit. “I want to have this conversation with both of you together.”

You froze for just a second, your stomach twisting.

Did he know?

No. Impossible.

There was no way he had figured out that you and Vi were sleeping together. You had been careful. No one knew.

…Right?

You forced yourself to stay relaxed, shrugging as you grabbed a mug from the small coffee station in the corner of his office. Taking a slow sip, you shot him a casual look. “Is it bad? Are we getting a lecture?”

Archie chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, not at all. It’s actually a great opportunity to promote the band.” He flipped through a few folders on his desk, organizing them with an efficiency that definitely meant he was up to something. “And why would you need a lecture?” He suddenly looked up, raising a curious eyebrow. “Did you do something?”

You nearly choked on your coffee.

Before you could sputter out a response, the door swung open, and Vi walked in looking slightly disheveled—her short hair messier than usual, her hoodie thrown over a t-shirt like she had barely been awake when she left her place. Unfortunately, that only sent a flood of inappropriate thoughts straight to your brain. On one hand, it was a welcome distraction from whatever dreadful conversation you were about to have. On the other, it was terrible for the exact same reason. How were you supposed to focus on what Archie was saying when she looked like that?

She yawned, stretching lazily as she leaned against the doorframe, her shirt riding up just enough to show a sliver of toned stomach. “What did I do this time?”

“Nothing bad, Miss Violet. In fact, something really, really great!” Archie beamed, pulling out the chair next to you and motioning for Vi to sit.

She turned to you with a puzzled expression, silently asking if he had gone insane in the short period you weren’t in contact. You had no answer.

Vi sighed, running a hand through her already chaotic hair. “Cut the bullshit, Archie. Just tell us already.”

She got a little aggressive when she was anxious. It was hot, actually.

Archie, unfazed as ever, clasped his hands together and launched into his pitch. “So, ever since your duo video, I’ve noticed a lot of buzz surrounding you two in the fanbase—which, by the way, is growing exponentially!” He swiped at his tablet, scrolling through whatever digital evidence he had gathered. “There’s a ton of talk about your chemistry. I’ve seen a bunch of compilation videos titled things like ‘Viy/n Moments’—which, apparently, is your ship name? I don’t really get that stuff, but the kids love it.”

The more Archie spoke, the more horrified you felt—not just because of what he was saying, but because he was the one saying it. Hearing Archie use terms like ship name was possibly the worst part of this entire situation.

“And I was talking to Mark” he continued “and he said that the younger audience really latches on to this kind of thing. A romance within the band? It’s intriguing. It keeps people invested.”

Vi leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Her face was unreadable, her gaze locked on Archie. You couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad sign.

“What exactly do you want to do with this?” she asked, her voice steady but laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

You swallowed hard, gripping your coffee cup like it was your last lifeline. Whatever Archie was about to say next, you had a sinking feeling it was going to be a lot to process.

“I was thinking…” He paused dramatically, as if waiting for you to lean in with anticipation—not that you would. “The two of you could fake an affair during promotions, and even after the album is released. We could market the hell out of it!” He grinned, clearly convinced he had just struck gold.

You blinked. Then again. Surely, you misheard him.

“What the fuck?” The words left your mouth before you could even think them through. “Why would we ever do something like that?”

Vi let out a short, amused exhale, but when you glanced at her, she didn’t seem nearly as horrified as you were. Instead, she was watching Archie with mild curiosity, like she was waiting for him to dig himself deeper.

“Hear me out!” Archie raised his hands defensively, as if expecting immediate backlash. “You don’t actually have to do anything publicly affectionate. No staged kisses, no forced hand-holding—just be seen together enough times for people to start making their own assumptions.”

You shook your head, utterly baffled. “That’s insane.”

“Is it?” Archie countered, tilting his head. “Because from what I can tell, everyone is already speculating. The fans are eating up every little glance, every interaction. And you know what happens when people think two bandmates might secretly be involved?” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping like he was letting you in on some groundbreaking industry secret. “They get obsessed. They create theories. They analyze song lyrics. They buy into the fantasy. And that means more engagement, which means more album sales, more streams, more everything.”

You stole another glance at Vi, hoping she’d back you up, but she was still unreadable, one arm draped over the chair, her fingers tapping absentmindedly against the wood.

“You’re asking us to fake a whole-ass relationship” she finally said, her voice neutral. “You know that, right?”

Archie shrugged. “I’m asking you to lean into what people already believe.”

You felt your stomach twist uncomfortably. This was dangerous. Not just because it was manipulative, but because… well, the lines between fake and real, platonic and romantic, were already blurred enough for you. And if you agreed to this? You weren’t sure you’d be able to keep those lines from completely disappearing.

Archie must have sensed your hesitation because he softened his tone. “Just sleep on it. Talk to each other, think about it carefully, and then we’ll decide what our next step will be.”

As you and Vi left Archie’s office and stepped into the elevator, an uncomfortable silence settled between you. Despite the muffled office chatter in the background, the tension was thick, making everything feel eerily quiet.

And then, out of nowhere, Vi burst out laughing.

You turned to her, baffled, watching as she leaned against the elevator wall, wiping at the corners of her eyes.

“What is going on? Why are you laughing?” you asked, half-annoyed, half-concerned that she had officially lost her mind.

Vi shook her head, still chuckling. “I don’t know. I just think the idea is so stupid — and so funny.” She took a breath, composing herself, though the amused glint in her eyes remained. “And the worst part? I’m actually considering it.”

You blinked at her. “You’re kidding.”

She grinned. “Jinx would think this is hilarious.”

Of course. Jinx would absolutely lose her mind over something like this—teasing Vi relentlessly, probably even stirring the pot further.

You crossed your arms, trying to make sense of the situation. “So what, you’re saying you want to go along with this?”

Vi shrugged, still smirking. “I don’t know. Maybe. Could be fun.”

Fun. Right. Because pretending to be in love with someone you were already secretly sleeping with and actually had feelings for wasn’t the most reckless thing you could possibly do.

──────────────────────

“And he wanted you to what?”

Jinx’s laughter crackled through the speaker as you sat in your car, Vi lounging in the passenger seat like she didn’t have a care in the world.

After her hysterical outburst in the elevator, the two of you had decided to park somewhere quiet and call Jinx — partly to share the ridiculous news, partly to actually talk about the possibility.

“Exactly that” Vi confirmed, stretching her legs out on the dashboard like she owned the place. “Pretend we’re in a relationship because — according to him — ‘the kids love it.’” She even threw on a near-perfect impression of Archie’s accent, making Jinx cackle even harder.

“I think that would be hilarious!” Jinx wheezed between fits of laughter. Vi shot you a knowing look, one that practically screamed told you so.

Then Jinx added, “How long do you think it would take Dad to call and congratulate you?”

You furrowed your brows, glancing at Vi. “What does that mean?”

Vi rolled her eyes, but Jinx was all too happy to explain.

“Oh, you know— back when you and Vi started hanging out, Vander was constantly asking when she’d dump Caitlyn and start dating you.” Jinx’s voice dropped into a teasingly deep tone, mimicking her father. “‘She’s such a nice girl, Vi. I can see the good influence she has on you.’” She burst into laughter again.

Your mouth fell open, and you turned to Vi, stunned. “Wait — what?”

Vi groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. “Yeah, yeah, he was obsessed with the idea. Thought you were, like, my guiding light or some shit.”

You couldn’t help but snort. “Clearly, he didn’t know about all the bad decisions I make.”

“Exactly!” Jinx chimed in. “Joke’s on him, you’re both disasters.”

Vi grinned, nudging your arm with her elbow. “So? What do you think? About Archie’s idea, I mean.”

The question lingered in the air, heavier than before. Because despite how absurd it all sounded… part of you wasn’t immediately shutting it down.

“I think you should 100% go for it!” Jinx pitched, her voice sharp with mischief. “Not to bring out the dead, but I would die to see Caitlyn’s face when you make it “public” — I’m making air quotes, by the way.”

“Leave her out of this, please.” Vi’s voice dropped, a sharp edge slicing through her laid-back tone.

You watched her carefully. She tried so hard to act like she didn’t care, like a year was enough time to bury a relationship that had lasted as long as hers and Caitlyn’s. But you saw the cracks. The way she still wrote songs to and about her, lyrics laced with unresolved feelings and quiet longing.

You rolled your eyes, but Vi was too busy staring out the window to notice.

“Calm down, sis. I just think her reaction would be funny,” Jinx teased.

Vi clenched her jaw, fingers tapping an anxious rhythm against her thigh.

“It kinda would be,” you muttered, shrugging as you leaned back against your seat.

Vi turned to you, eyebrows raised. “So you actually want to do it?”

You opened your mouth to answer — but nothing came out.

Logically, it was a terrible idea. Playing pretend with Vi when your feelings for her were already a tangled mess? Letting the lines blur even more than they already had? It was practically begging for heartbreak.

But the selfish part of you? The part that wanted any excuse to be closer to her, even if it was a lie?

That part was screaming yes.

“I…” You trailed off, feeling your pulse hammer in your throat.

Vi tilted her head, watching you carefully. “Come on, you can be honest. I won’t bite.” She grinned, but her voice had softened, and the teasing edge was gone.

You took a shaky breath, fingers curling around the hem of your hoodie. “I just… I don’t want things to get weird between us,” you admitted quietly.

Vi’s expression shifted, the playfulness fading entirely. She sat up, turning toward you in her seat. “It wouldn’t” she said, her voice steady. “I swear.”

You weren’t sure you believed that.

Because for you, things were already weird. Waking up next to her, pretending the warmth of her skin against yours didn’t linger long after she left your apartment. Pretending it didn’t hurt when she flirted with other people, or when Jinx made offhand comments about her type. Pretending you didn’t catch yourself wishing, over and over, that whatever you had with her could be real.

But Vi? She didn’t seem worried at all.

And maybe that was the answer you needed.

Maybe, to her, this wasn’t a big deal. Maybe you were, again, the one making it complicated.

You forced a small smile. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Vi’s eyes lit up, and she slapped your thigh in excitement. “Hell yeah. We’re about to break the internet.”

Jinx let out a delighted shriek through the phone. “Oh my God, I’m gonna make a fan account and start the rumors myself.”

You laughed, but the sound felt thin — like it barely masked the fear curling in your chest. This whole situation felt like walking on the edge of a cliff, the ground crumbling beneath your feet. One wrong step, one careless breeze, and you’d fall.

And if you fell?

You were terrified Vi wouldn’t be there to catch you.

──────────────────────

masterlist - chapter twelve

taglist: @saturnhas82moons @oidloid @vaebear @wicked-laugh @baylegend6 @nomarksonelegance @antobooh @80saturn @arahiraaai

[akire2002]

I'm practicing making handmade keychains UwU But in the future I will need a printer to make them much more efficiently (I wonder... Would be anyone interested, if I put them on sale?)

[gremlingottoosilly]

Now, imagine Price and Konig pinning after same girl...

RIP to that girl. 😭

It's horrible! Imagine being some civilian expert, like a military photographer or journalist, or even just a person who mostly works with civilians strapped in dangerous situations. You're soft, softer than any normal soldier, you're not good with weapons and try to negotiate your way out of every possible conflict. You're assigned to work with negotiations between SpecGru and KorTac because they have to make a joint operation, but you're only making things more difficult...Price is more emotionally mature, of course, he has experience talking to women, especially such pretty young things. He is trying to win you over like a proper gentleman, never allowing you in danger and kinda forcing you into the role of just emotional support because he doesn't want your pretty face to get blown up! Especially near those dirty mercs... Now, Konig is as old as Price. Mature, almost like him - but he has an axe to pick with those pricks from the normal military, especially since Price is an expert in sniping, and he is just so conventionally attractive, it's not fair! As a PMC member, Konig has too much money saved - and he is not afraid to use it against you. For you, I mean. You don't even need this manu equipment, you're literally just a negotiator, but suddenly you get a new printer, a new laptop, a new set of weirdly fitting lingerie...god, this is embarrassing because you just can't say no to both men! They're horrible, especially when they understand that a pretty girl like you just can't decide between them( They can settle a bet in both of your holes, not trying to murder one another just for a second so they could fuck you more efficiently .