#foxie snippets

[icyfox17]

🏝️🍍🪽 <3!!

TOMSIEIEIE ily i hope u are well!!

🏝️- Island au

The goat turns its head towards him, still chewing grass as it stares. Slowly it approaches him and sniffs his hand through the fence. He gently gives it a pat on the head, in between the two horns and moving down to the nose. “Sorry buddy, I don’t have any treats with me this time.” Once it realises that fact, it snorts and moves away, bored with Tommy. Tommy chuckles, turning to look back at where Phil had gone inside.

🍍- psych x 911 au

“Ah, you mean she asked her to send her best detectives, and she sent us.” Shawn infers, cheekily wiggling his eyebrows at her. “By best detectives, I mean she sent Lassiter and I, and you and Gus were tagalongs.” “Hey!” Shawn and Gus say together.

🪽 - effluvium au

"I think you should give the kid a chance." Athena says, and Bobby whips his head toward her in surprise. "Weren't you the one who told him to stay out of your way, if he was going to keep acting like a brat?" "Indeed. But I think I misjudged him. He has a good heart. I think he'd be a good addition to the team." Athena says, and there's patience in her tone, in a way that Bobby knows is more for just the act of giving Buck a chance.

for this tag game !!

[divine-victory]

Trick or treat👻👻🎃🎃

Treat!! 😈

Bobby sees Buck sitting in his own couch slouched into himself, in a way that makes him look much smaller and much younger than he is. It feels wrong. Bobby knows why. He sees the doubt behind his eyes and hears Eddie saying “I don’t want the water to have that power over him”.

He blinks and remembers his nightmares. Remembers running towards his kid knowing he had failed him and that he might not get to him in time. Remembers how his nightmares turn the fear into fact. When he is asleep he knows he has failed Buck but he is still running. He opens his eyes and sees Buck who walked for hours looking for Chris.

The guilt nearly chokes him where he stands. Buck had been in danger, scared, hurt, and alone again. His heart walking outside his body and lost. Bobby thinks that Buck could have been with them. He could have kept him if not safe at least safer.

“I’m sorry Buck,” Bobby says. It takes every bit of courage he has and the words taste like salt in his toungue but he ignores the moisture on his cheeks as he continues.”It wasn’t the chief that kept you benched because you weren’t ready.”

“What do you mean?” Buck asks looking up at him. Wide blue eyes clouded with confusion. Bobby’s heart clenches at the trust he finds there. It breaks at the resignation settled accross the kid’s shoulders.

Resignation does not suit Buck. It dulls him. His natural brightness dimmed under the weight Bobby set on him. Bobby looks away as he speaks

“It was my decision because I wasn’t ready for you to be out there,” the words trip over his tongue in their hurry to leave his mouth. “I was so scared to lose you. But I almost did anyway.”

[foxyanon]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tag @lord-aldhelm!

I haven’t done one of these in a while, because I like to keep some stuff a surprise BUT I will share a header and a small snippet of the one I’m working on now!

It’s a vampire!Masema x reader fully inspired by my damn sim because he’s taken hold of my every thought.

“No need to apologize, little one. I came here looking for something specific and it appears I’ve just found it,” he said smoothly, the timbre of his voice sending shivers down your back in tandem with his fingertips gently rubbing over the veins of your wrists.

I think everyone else has been tagged, but thank you to @sihtricfedaraaahvicius for helping this take root in my head.

[mbirnsings-71]

ik u said ask for whwat evers itneresting to me but im challanged so im guess that its either

1

5

OR

11

so for context, I may have mentioned there is a LifeSMP fic hidden amongst my wip titles because well I've basically told you guys the titles to all my other ones- however no one has asked about it yet- Also I find it incredibly funny you ask about these numbers cause @icyfox17 also asked about 5 and 11 so DVKNFDBKNGF- but yeah no I'm gonna list snippets of them in order under the keep reading

For Number 1, it is in fact 9-1-1. I wrote this after the Eddie shaving his mustache episode- it was very fun. I literally had this in my brain while I walked Charlie it was great-

“I’m straight.” Eddie says, and he doesn’t know why it feels like lead upon his tongue, or why it feels like the weight on his shoulders just got heavier.  “I’m celibate.” The guy across from him says, and Eddie feels a mixture of emotions. Relief and disappointment for reasons he can’t seem to figure out. Why is he disappointed out of all things?

For Number 5, it is Klapollo and it's just me being incredibly silly- Please note this is very old writing and I know you've been with me through my old writing but my god it's old- also very very self indulgently me making a joke to my old Klapollo tangled au-

"Okay, but You have the hair for Rapunzel Klav." Apollo commented to the taller man that was currently resting his chin on Apollo's head whilst they were watching the 2010 Disney movie that was Tangled. "Yes, but no."  "Excuse me?"  "Yes I may have the hair, but I can see you as more of a Rapunzel type Herr Forehead~" Klavier said while pressing a kiss to the top of Apollo's head.  "Me? As Rapunzel? Nope. Very Unlikely." Apollo dismissed lightly, hoping that his answer would've been enough for Klavier, but he should've known that since both of them were lawyers it was gonna turn into a debate.

And then Number 11 is for my Non-Despair AU where Izuru finds Hajime passed the fuck out in his office- which I actually had plans to make that into a simple comic but then the phone I was drawing it on perma died and well- It just never came to fruition. I could probably do it again if I really wanted to, I am more experienced now and can make simple 4 panel comics- but alas onto the snippet- Which in my heart these two, when people make them separate beings for aus, are both autistic in this fucking essay-

That’s when he spotted Hajime curled up on the couch, Still wearing his normal outfit (that consisted of a green zip up hoodie, light green button up, green waistcoat, Jeans, and light green sneakers) and noticing that he hadn’t even taken the time to take off his shoes before falling asleep. “Must’ve been tired.” the Ultimate mathematician mused to himself mentally before making his way over to his sleeping twin. Leaning over his twin, he sighed. “You fell asleep?” He asked quietly, gaining no response except for his twin to turn over in his sleep so now he could see Hajime’s face clearly. 

[the-amber-raven]

@icyfox17 you've put this on my dash so many times that I had to write a scene about it 😅😅 This is genuinely just like pure self-indulgent fluff x1000 (You can also consider it my apology for the depressing texting fic)

--

Bobby jumped out as soon as the car slowed to park at the curb, drops of rain hitting his skin like frozen pinpricks and exacerbating the concern he’d been trying to control. 

“Bobby, the umbrella –” Athena called after him, exasperated. “You can’t help if you also get soaked.”

He cursed internally but turned to grab the umbrella. He didn’t care so much about himself, but the quicker that Buck was shielded from the freezing sheet of rain bearing down on them the better. 

Buck had noticed their arrival – that was good, it meant he was reactive and responsive to his surroundings. He pushed himself forward, using his body weight to leverage himself into a standing position, which was less good as it spoke to how exhausted the incredibly fit young man must be. 

Bobby lengthened his stride, opening the umbrella as he walked, and made it to the bench right as Buck got to his feet. 

“I’ve got you, kid.” 

His mind momentarily flashed back to the last time he’d said those exact words – but this was different, Buck’s eyes were open and he was breathing and the arm underneath his hand was moving this time.

He was alive. 

Absolutely sodden, but alive. 

“Th – thanks, Bobby – I’m sorry –”

“Don’t apologise,” Bobby said insistently, gripping Buck’s shoulder to lead him towards the running car. He was glad to see that the kid had at least worn something a little warmer for his run but unfortunately the hoodie was now completely soaked through. 

“C’mon, let’s get you into the car.” 

Buck was a little shaky on his feet, not unlike when he’d first been allowed out of bed, which was fine. 

It was fine. Buck was still recovering, it was all normal and fine. 

So long as he didn’t get set back by some awful cold. 

“Hi – hi, Athena,” Buck said, mustering up a smile for her as he reached to grip the car door that Bobby opened for him. 

“You look like a drowned rat, Buckaroo,” Athena said sympathetically, leaning across to look through the gap between the two front seats so that she could take him in properly. “Probably wasn’t the best night for getting some fresh air…”

“The doc said some daily light cardio would be good for me,” Buck explained, sinking into the backseat gratefully, his face visibly softening when the blast of hot air from the heating reached him. “I’ve done this run for the last couple of days but – I don’t even know, it was like a wave of exhaustion came and and I had to stop and it wouldn’t go away and –” 

“I’m sure that’s probably normal when you’re recovering from such a serious injury,” Athena said, swiftly jumping in to interrupt before he could get lost in the frustration that was clearly building. 

“It’s been two weeks,” Buck muttered petulantly, crossing his arms. Bobby winced at the squelching noise the fabric made.

“Which is not a long time,” Athena pointed out, raising her eyebrow at him meaningfully, making Buck sink down further into the seat with an obvious pout. His hood left a dark mark on the seat behind him. 

“Kid, take that thing off,” Bobby directed, ducking half into the car and wrestling with the umbrella so that it was mostly covering him from the rain while he took his own hoodie off. 

Buck frowned at him, confused. “What – Bobby, no, I’m fine.” 

“You’re going to get yourself sick and then you’ll really feel too exhausted for your cardio and your physio exercises,” Bobby said, his voice muffled. “Take it off; this will warm you up faster.”

“What about you?” Buck protested, still not making a move.

“I’m not wet,” Bobby pointed out. He levelled Buck with a commanding look, silently telling him to get a move on. 

“He can sit in the back with you, I’ve got the heat on the highest setting there for you,” Athena added, sounding amused. 

“Thanks, Athena,” Bobby said, a little sheepish, but of course his amazing wife just gave him a knowing look and told him to get the umbrella inside and close the door. 

Buck, realising that he was outnumbered, finally acquiesced, pulling his soaked hoodie off and trading it for Bobby’s dry one. His skin wasn’t flushed or feverish, easing some of Bobby’s concern, but it was damp and clammy, so getting him warm was definitely still a high priority.

Bobby nudged him to the side so that he could sit down properly and clip his seatbelt on and then immediately leaned forward to adjust the vents to blast their blessed heat towards Buck (he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and had barely been outside for two minutes, he didn’t need it. Rubbing his hands together to get the circulation going in his hands again would suffice). 

When Athena heard the second click from Buck’s seatbelt, she moved away from the curb, performing a U-turn to take them back from where they came from.

“Oh, you can take Elm up ahead,” Buck said, leaning forward slightly. “It’s a shortcut back to my street.”

“Buck, I certainly hope that you don’t actually believe we’re dropping you home and leaving you alone after all of this,” Athena said reprovingly.

“Um –” Buck flicked his gaze over to Bobby. It took him a second to register that the kid was looking at him, because Bobby was already preoccupied with trying to remember whether or not they had all the ingredients for his spicy chicken noodle soup. 

“Of course you’re coming home with us.” Bobby was slightly incredulous that it even had to be said; he’d thought it was so obvious that he hadn’t even bothered to tell Athena to head straight back to theirs. “What, did you think we were going to drop you off so you could shiver in your apartment on your own and end up cold and sick with no one to look out for you?” 

“My apartment has heating,” Buck muttered.

His cheeks were flushed, which was probably because he was a little embarrassed about the fussing. 

But his hands were also still shaking.

“Bobby!” Buck squawked, trying to shift away from the hand that Bobby placed on his forehead. 

Thanks to the seatbelt, he couldn’t move far, so Bobby was easily able to also check his cheeks to confirm that his temperature seemed normal. 

“There was a machine doing your breathing for you two weeks ago, kid, I’d like to make sure you won’t be needing that again anytime soon,” Bobby scolded lightly, dropping his hand back into his lap. 

“It’s just a little rain,” Buck whined, slouching back in the seat with a pout. “I just need to – to warm up and probably get some sleep.” 

“Well, we’ll get you some soup and some dry clothes and then we have a perfectly good bed you can use,” Bobby said matter-of-factly. 

Maybe the kid would sleep a little easier with someone else with him.  

He’d noticed Buck’s difficulty with sleeping over a week ago. The fact that the bags under his eyes only got heavier despite days away from the hospital would have been enough to betray him, but Bobby also had the numerous texts which came through at all hours of the night. It hadn’t taken him long to realise that many of the daytime texts must have come through after Buck attempted to take a nap, either. 

Bobby wasn’t sure if actual company would satiate whatever need Buck had that was dragging him out of sleep and pushing him to text Bobby, but he could hope. 

Hope had already worked once to give him his kid back. Maybe it could work again to put him back together. 

“You guys really don’t need to do that,” Buck said softly. 

Bobby sighed.

It was the same thing he’d said when Bobby had offered to stay at the loft for a few days after Phillip and Margaret Buckley left (he’d been quite proud of himself for refraining from any scathing commentary about how quickly they’d left – at least until Buck had casually mentioned that they’d actually been staying at their hotel even before leaving LA altogether, only dropping in a few times a day, at which point Bobby had unleashed a rant so uncharacteristically vicious that May drove forty-five minutes to buy him the brownies that reminded him of his favourite bakery in St Paul.) 

“Kid, will you stop being so stubborn and just let us look after you.” He threw his arm around Buck’s shoulders to lessen the sting of his light exasperation, leaning his head back to hide his pleased smile when Buck melted into the half hug. “It’s not a bad thing to need help. In fact, when you lo – care for someone, it actually brings peace when you get to provide it.” 

“‘M not stubborn,” Buck said stubbornly. 

Athena snorted. “You’re both too stubborn for your own good. And we both know you aren’t winning with Bobby when he gets like this, Buck, so you might as well stop complaining for all our sakes.” 

Buck nodded, but he wasn’t quite cowed enough to stop defending himself just yet. 

“I did call and ask for you to come,” he reminded them, his hands twisting together between the sleeves of Bobby’s Minnesota Wilds hoodie, “so I’m – I am getting better at the whole asking for help thing.” 

Bobby gave him a subtle squeeze with the arm that was still holding him in a half-hug. 

“That’s true,” he conceded fondly, glancing down at the mop of hair resting on his shoulder that was finally starting to dry into the curls that Buck very rarely allowed the world to see. “Thank you. I’m glad you reached out to me when you were struggling instead of trying to push through it.” 

“Thank you for coming,” Buck said quietly, directing the words to his wringing hands. “I, um – I wasn’t –” he stopped, taking a deep breath and then letting it out with an audible ‘whoosh.’ “Just. Thanks. For answering and – and for coming.” 

“You don’t need to say thank you for that,” Bobby said, matching his quiet tone. 

He shifted his head so that he could look at Buck properly – a thick swell of pride was unfurling in his chest and putting pressure on his throat. 

This kid, who looked older than the hotheaded brat that had waltzed into his firehouse six and a half years ago but somehow also managed to seem younger because he had allowed that hard protective bravado to soften, showing and accepting the vulnerability that lurked within.

The Buck of six years ago never would have asked for help.

The Buck of three years ago would have put up a bigger fuss at accepting anything more than the bare minimum of help, insisting that he could manage it himself. 

But this Buck was finally ready to accept that he had people in his corner who wanted to help. Was able to recognise when asking for help would be better for him, and knew that he had people in his corner who would provide it as soon as he asked for it. 

He understood his worth, and he understood how loved he was. 

Bobby was so, so proud of him. 

It was hard to believe how close he’d come to losing him forever. 

The familiar pain of his deferred grief crashed over him as it hit him once again exactly how close he had come to losing this incredible kid. 

He swallowed down the lump in his throat, squeezing Buck to his side again and resting his chin on Buck’s head, using the warmth of Buck’s body to remind himself that Buck was right here, alive and safe and okay. 

Buck was fine. He needed warmth, some soup, some calm and quiet and a bit more time and patience and support to fully recover from his ordeal both physically and mentally but there were all things that Bobby could provide for him. 

Bobby breathed in deeply, the blended scent of rain and Buck’s shampoo filling his nostrils and, driven by some mix of paternal instinct and intense gratitude, he pressed a kiss to Buck’s head.

Buck stiffened beneath his arms, and this time Bobby was sure that it was his cheeks that were flushing – but the awkwardness lasted barely a moment and Buck slumped back into the half-hug, even shifting a little bit so that more of his weight rested on Bobby.

He couldn’t see Buck’s face from this angle, but he was sure that he was probably sporting that tiny pleased smile that Bobby adored seeing on him, the one that told him that the kid was content down to his very bones. 

Going by the fondly knowing look Athena was sending him through the rearview mirror, Bobby knew that he must be radiating the exact same level of contentment. 

riding home in the backseat

[everrinsly]

a/n; inarizaki focused! this made me laugh a few times, it's very long and silly haha, this is a bonus story, a bit of crackhead energy and writing (≧▽≦)

જ⁀🏐🇯🇵⁀🏐🦊

a momager and her silly olympic team bonus

bonus story to a kitagawa daiichi reunion, table wars, and dramatic setters in the dining hall (linked here)! (follows the part where you mentioned the inarizaki boys filed a kidnapping report during the asian championship).

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protective foxy instincts, poor foxy judgments. fluff. fem!reader. | not proofread.

the inarizaki boys are in disarray when a korean player asks for directions to the restroom. p.s. unhinged chaos at the international scale where authorities were this close to being called.

more olympic team shenanigans here!

more reads!

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Snippet from A Kitagawa Daiichi Reunion, Table Wars, and Dramatic Setters in the Dining Hall:

“They’re obsessed,” Iwaizumi corrected, not even looking up as he picked at his food with a long-suffering sigh. “You breathe in someone else’s direction and half the team looks like they’re ready to file a kidnapping report.”

You let out a soft laugh, a fond memory replying in your head. “I think the Inarizaki boys actually filed one… in the last Asian Championship… blamed it on Osamu even though he was all the way in Osaka.”

“Didn’t they rope Ushijima in on that also?”

“Yeah. Kita was called for that scolding.”

“Fuckin’ foxy idiots.”

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—Flashback to Asian Championship; Iran—

The gym was buzzing with post-match energy—half exhaustion, half adrenaline—under bright lights that made the polished court gleam. Somewhere near the back, Team Japan had scattered into their usual loosely organized chaos.

You were sitting on the bench, legs criss-crossed, clipboard resting against your thigh as you updated volleyball stats of the most recent match. 

On the floor, Atsumu was aggressively stretching like he was trying to win gold in flexibility. Aran sat just a bit behind, tying and untying his shoes out of habit more than necessity, while Suna laid flat on his back beside the bench, legs raised in the air in some passive excuse for a hamstring stretch.

Sure, they were Inarizaki’s finest, but they looked like an (absolutely terrible) unsupervised group project.

The rest of the team had fanned out across the venue—Komori and Hinata were raiding the snack trucks for post-game fruit cups, Bokuto had wandered off to show Sakusa a new handshake, Kageyama was desperately digging through your purse for his yogurt packs, and Iwaizumi had passed his iPad to Ushijima, who now stood like a quiet statue by the hallway, intently watching replays with a tiny furrow of concentration in his brows.

You just got done circling Hinata’s name—because the man decided three shots of espresso and ‘vibes’ were enough to fuel a warmup (which led to six of his spikes landing out of bounds)—when a soft, tentative voice interrupted you.

“Uh… hello?”

You glanced up to see a tall figure in a white-and-blue tracksuit awkwardly fidgeting in front of the bench. KOR. Tall. Young. Polite. Cute. Also very panicked.

“I… uh… restroom?” he asked, brows raised in apology more than question, and gestured wildly in several directions. 

You blinked, realizing the poor guy was very lost.

“Ah—yes!” you said, tucking your pen into the clipboard and standing. “I know it’s kind of confusing over here.”

Suna’s eyes lazily followed the exchange. Aran half-glanced up, mildly curious. Atsumu squinted suspiciously.

You offered the Korean player a warm smile and motioned. “Come on, it’s just down this hallway. I’ll show you.”

The guy nodded in relief, bowing in thanks. “Thank you, thank you.”

You vanished around the corner with him, disappearing into the maze of back hallways lined with event posters and mop buckets.

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The emotional earthquake began—immediate, catastrophic panic from the Inarizaki boys. 

Suna slowly lowered his legs from the air, eyes narrowed.

Atsumu sat up straighter, head whipping toward the now-empty hallway. “Who was that guy and why did he just walk off with our manager?”

“He asked where the restroom was,” Aran said, trying to sound reasonable but sounding a good seventy percent worried.

“Did he?” Atsumu countered. “Or did he use that as a cover to lure her into a hidden tunnel system beneath the venue?”

“There is no tunnel system, Miya,” Aran muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You don’t know that!”

Suna, who had been suspiciously quiet, sat up and began scrolling through his phone. “Okay but… remember that one article I bookmarked? About signs of suspicious behavior and identifying possible kidnappers?”

Atsumu leaned over eagerly. “Oh, ya! The checklist. With the grainy photos and everythin'.”

“You saved that?” Aran blinked.

Suna tilted his phone so they could see. “Look—excessively polite demeanor, avoids eye contact, fidgets while speaking, asks for directions to a non-specific location. Bro was ticking off boxes like a daily to-do list.”

Aran frowned. “He asked for the bathroom.”

“Exactly,” Suna said grimly.

“He was lost!”

“That’s what they want you to think.”

Atsumu was already pulling out his phone. “We need to mobilize. Ushijima’s in position.”

Aran groaned. “Don’t drag Ushijima into this—also he’s literally RIGHT THERE!” he added, elaborately pointing to where Ushijima stood near the hallway, not ten paces away, still stoically watching a replay on Iwaizumi’s iPad.

“Too late,” Atsumu said sweetly, thumbs flying over his phone. 

[Atsumu to Ushijima] [ATSUMU]: Hey ushi-kun can ya do a quick hallway sweep?  Manager’s been gone for longer than the average restroom detour [USHIJIMA]: OK.

Aran slapped a hand over his face. “I swear—there’s no need…”

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Ushijima was already on the move, walking with grim determination like he’d just been briefed by a top-level agency. His footsteps echoed with purpose.

Atsumu turned to Suna, who was now drafting a ‘Kidnappings and Missing Person’s Report’ and had added an entire subsection titled ‘Bathroom Lures’.

“We need to formalize this,” Atsumu muttered. “I’m gonna ask ‘Samu.”

“Agreed,” Suna said, flipping his phone horizontally like he was prepping a spreadsheet.

[Atsumu to Osamu] [ATSUMU]: Bro emergency Need ya to help us fill out a kidnapper report form Pretty sure she’s been sweet-talked into a bathroom cult or somethin Suna says it’s got classic toilet trap vibes [OSAMU]: What the hell is a toilet trap No wait don’t answer that I regret asking Why are you like this [ATSUMU]: Because i care  I’m tryna protect our manager and you’re givin me sass Please help Suna formatted it in word this time [Attachment: .docx file titled “Kidnapper Incident Report - Asian Champs Edition” with subsections for: Suspect, Timeline, Emotional Damage Assessment, Witness Statements, Red Flags, and Bathroom Lures] [OSAMU]: Bro  She’s goin to the fuckin bathroom Not a hostage bunker  [ATSUMU]: You don’t fuckin know that omg

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There was a five-minute beat of silence.

You still hadn’t returned.

Suna sat on the bench, knee bouncing at a metronomic pace. Atsumu was frozen in a dramatic pose on the floor, leaning on the barricades.

And Aran—Aran, the (supposedly) reasonable one—was now pacing behind the bench, rubbing the back of his neck like a man two seconds away from sprinting to the bathroom to grab you himself. 

“Okay. Okay. Maybe she just took a wrong turn.”

“She knows the layout,” Suna said flatly. “She’s mapped the whole venue. You saw her draw it in her planner.”

“She could’ve been lured. Like, with—” Aran flailed a hand. “Like… Korean snacks. She loves those! I don’t know, man! I’m spiraling!”

Suna didn’t look up. “Did you know the average kidnapping takes only seven minutes to complete?”

Atsumu gasped.

“Don’t say that!” Aran snapped. “I knew you were gonna say something like that.”

“I’m just saying. We’re at, like, minute thirteen.”

Aran’s pacing had devolved into muttering. “She’s definitely been taken. This is an actual hostage situation. Should we start making posters?”

“Calm down,” Suna said, finally looking up. “Ushijima’s got eyes on the hallway. If anyone can tank an abduction attempt, it’s him.”

“Right,” Aran said weakly. “Right. Because nothing says ‘subtle rescue op’ like Ushijima Wakatoshi walking up silently and asking ‘are you in danger?’ like a sentient slab of concrete.”

A minute passed before Aran continued, his voice pitching up an octave. “Do you think it’s too early to call someone?”

“Like who?” Suna asked, still typing suspiciously fast on his phone.

“I don’t know! The Korean Volleyball Federation? The Japanese Embassy? The Iranian police force? Interpol?”

Atsumu perked up immediately. “Interpol’s got a hotline, right? We could use Aran’s name, it sounds reliable.”

“WHAT—NO—!”

“How ‘bout ‘Samu’s then? He’s got, like, a whole fuckin’ business.”

“Yeah. He’s got the best credit score out of all of us.”

Aran stopped cold, a tiny bit of rationality still in him. “WAIT—NO. Let’s not internationalize this.”

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Meanwhile… at Onigiri Miya…

[Osamu to Kita] [OSAMU]: Emergency kita  The idiots are at it again They think manager’s been kidnapped  But she literally just took a Korean player to the bathroom  Suna made a word doc of stupid shit, there's toilet trap Tsumu’s the stupid-ass ring leader  And my twin telepathy is telling me they’re gonna call fuckin Interpol under my name Pls intervene before all former inarizaki grads end up on the news   [KITA]: Got it, Osamu. Is Aran in on it also? [OSAMU]: Knowing him, he’s probably panicking  Like right about now  Cuz he always panics after like 15 mins

There was no response from Kita for a good ten minutes (the rice field has low signal). 

[OSAMU]: Pls kita  I share the same face with that fool No one’s gonna come to the restaurant  Which means Your rice gonna be out of business  Kita  Kita  Kita pls [KITA]: You’re right. I’m on it.  [OSAMU]: Also here  [Attachment: .docx file titled “Kidnapper Incident Report - Asian Champs Edition” with subsections for: Suspect, Timeline, Emotional Damage Assessment, Witness Statements, Red Flags, and Bathroom Lures]

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Back at the venue, Ushijima turned the corner of the hallway and caught sight of you laughing softly with the tall Korean player outside the restrooms. You both bowed politely—twice—before parting ways. 

As you turned to head back, Ushijima stepped into your path.

“Oh, hey, Ushi—”

“Are you safe?” he asked seriously.

You blinked up at him, bewildered. “Um… yes? He just needed directions—”

“Understood,” Ushijima replied, pulling out his phone.

[Ushijima to Atsumu] [USHIJIMA]: She is fine.  No threats detected.  We are heading back now.  [ATSUMU]: Oh thank god 

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Back on the bench…

Suna looked up from his phone. “Guys.”

“What?”

“…We have an incoming call. From Kita.”

They all froze.

Atsumu paled.

Aran dropped to the floor and whispered, “We’re gonna die.”

Suna’s phone continued ringing. On the screen, Kita’s contact photo—stoic, judgmental, and surrounded by very disappointed sparkles (edited by Atsumu)—glared back at them.

“Answer it,” Aran whispered.

“No, you answer it,” Atsumu hissed.

But Suna had already accepted the call and held the phone up, resigned.

Kita’s voice came through calm and deadly:

“Tell me exactly why I was just informed that Interpol and ‘toilet trap vibes’ were involved in an alleged kidnapping… at an international sporting event… over a restroom detour.”

They all spoke at once.

“It was just a precautionary checklist—” “I never actually called Interpol—” “She likes Korean snacks, Kita, Korean snacks—”

Kita didn’t respond immediately. Then:

“All of you. One hour. Video call. We’re going over appropriate team boundaries and how to identify real emergencies. And get ready for a beating from Iwaizumi. He’s been informed.”

The call ended.

There was silence. 

Suna finally muttered, “I should’ve deleted that doc.”

Atsumu flopped back on the floor, groaning into his towel. “‘Samu’s a fuckin’ snitch.”

Aran looked relieved. “Honestly, this is the best possible outcome… at least she’s okay.”

જ⁀🏐🇯🇵⁀🏐🦊

You returned a moment later with Ushijima, a bounce to your step for doing a good deed—completely unaware of the chaos.

“Hey, guys, why the sad faces? Did something happen while I was gone?”

Three boys smiled up at you with aggressively fake casualness.

“Nope!” “All good!” “Nothing illegal!”

You narrowed your eyes and looked toward Ushijima, who couldn't meet your gaze. 

“…Why does it smell like an international scandal here?”

And right on cue, your phone pinged. 

[Osamu to You] [Osamu]: Darlin Your boys are outta control  [Attachment: .docx file titled “Kidnapper Incident Report - Asian Champs Edition” with subsections for: Suspect, Timeline, Emotional Damage Assessment, Witness Statements, Red Flags, and Bathroom Lures]

[demie90s]

(You already know who I finna do it about😏. Flaujae. I’m doing it for Flaujae.)

Name-Dropper

Flau’jae Johnson x fem!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: Your already known in the industry—rapper, influencer, and little sister to a hip-hop icon. But when I drop my debut album and name-drop Flau’jae the internet goes feral.

Warnings: Explicit lyrics, strong language, suggestive content, public tension, mutual obsession

Word count~ 0.3k

My name been in rooms I wasn’t even old enough to walk in.

People like to think I came outta nowhere, but they forget—I been around legends since I was in baby Phat. My debut wasn’t a SoundCloud freestyle or TikTok snippet. Nah. It was a feature. On a Lil Wayne track. And Nicki Minaj too. I was 16. Still in uniform. Spit a 12-bar verse in one take while Birdman watched from the booth. They said I had Lauren Hill in my tone, Foxy in my eyes, and Missy in my pen. But none of that meant anything to me. ‘Cause that was just a Tuesday. And Lauren? That’s Mama.

Yeah. That Lauryn Hill.

And no, I didn’t grow up easy because of it. She made me earn everything. Said talent wasn’t enough. Said this world eats girls like me for breakfast. I ain’t even get my first cosign from her until I sold out SOBs off a mixtape.

So when I dropped my first full album this year, it was a moment. No skips. All truth. I poured every version of me into those songs. The sweet, the rage, the divine, the down bad. And yeah, I talked about women. Real plain. Real casual. I always have. But one track? One track had a name.

“Flau’jae.”

Didn’t censor it. Didn’t hide it in a metaphor. I spelled it out in the second verse, clear as day.

“If I’m ever courtside, she better stretch right / ’Cause I’ve been plotting since her mixtape mic nights / Said she only do music, I’m tryna change types—”

Twitter exploded. Blogs ran wild. “Who’s the mystery rapper obsessed with Flau’jae Johnson?” “Are we witnessing the start of the gayest beef-turned-fling of the year?” Meanwhile, I was eating shrimp in Turks like it wasn’t my name trending in every bracket forum.

I waited weeks. No response. No shade. No bars. Silence. So I popped out.

LSU’s game was packed. Student section going feral. I pulled up like the stage was mine. High boots, trench dragging, lips glossy and outlined, camera-ready. I sat courtside. Dead in front of the bench.

She didn’t look at me first. She waited ‘til the second quarter. Fast break, finish at the rim, crowd goes wild. Then, just before the inbound—she glanced. A real look. The kind that makes your chest clench.

Game ends. LSU wins. I knew they would. Then the mic hits.

Unannounced performance. Special guest. I step onto the court with a live band, no background vocals, no dancers. Just me. Beat drops. Track seven. The crowd screams before I even open my mouth.

I walk the court like a runway. Rap her name right to her. Let the lyrics drip from my lips slow. I don’t wink. I don’t flirt. I tell the truth.

And Flau’jae? She don’t hide it. Don’t duck. She just smiles. Cool. Collected.

I finish the song and walk off to a standing ovation like I didn’t just confess on national television. Two days later, she posts a story. Black screen. White text.

“Type changed.🐯”

I just smiled.

’Cause mama didn’t raise no fool. She raised a legend.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @zizi-bee-yapping @kaliblazin @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey

[gfthe-fearsome-foursome]

Ford, question to you: What is your opinion on FNAF?

“Five Nights at Freddy’s? Oh, don’t get me started unless you want a full lecture! It’s not just jump scares and creepy animatronics— it’s a labyrinthine masterpiece of storytelling layered with metaphor and a mystery that would make even the sharpest detectives rip their hair out! God knows figuring out the games had me in knots for weeks!"

"First off, think about the concept of survival: you’re this helpless security guard, stuck in a tiny office, forced to fend off animatronics that are more than just spooky mascots— seriously! You could take it literally or look at them as manifestations of guilt, regret, and unresolved trauma! The entire franchise is a thesis on consequences."

"Take the lore— oh, the lore!— a deep dive into the psyche of William Afton, this utterly complex character who’s not just a villain, but the embodiment of obsession and self-destruction. His crimes? Literal and metaphorical ghosts that haunt him, and us! The animatronics aren’t just killer robots; they’re the spirits of lost children, seeking justice or revenge, depending on how you look at it."

"Then there’s the pizzeria itself— it’s a façade! A cheerful place masking a horror show beneath, symbolizing how people bury dark truths under layers of fun and nostalgia. Oh, and don’t forget the sheer meta brilliance! The player, stuck in a cycle of fear and repetition, mirrors the inescapable guilt and failure of the story’s characters!"

"And the theories! Goodness, the theories! Are the crying child and the bite victim the same? How do we solve Foxy's puzzle in the employee logbook? How does the timeline even fit together? Scott Cawthon has turned this franchise into a living, breathing conspiracy board where every detail— a picture on the wall, a snippet of dialogue— could be the key to unraveling the story, or just a red herring to mess with us!"

"And symbolically? The series plays on humanity’s innate fear of being watched, of losing control, and of the monsters lurking in the places we thought were safe. It’s a chef’s kiss of psychological horror, capitalist critique, and existential dread! And don’t even get me started on the music box motif— pure genius, the way it ties time, tension, and inevitability together."

"I even started playing piano again to learn the score of Georges Bizet's "Les Toreadors"! It's where Freddy's jingle comes from— but that's not important!"

"Every detail is meticulously crafted, and the Internet? Oh, the theories there are like a hydra— cut one down, and three more pop up! FNaF isn’t just a game; it’s a modern mythos, a digital ghost story that keeps evolving, daring us to piece together the puzzle while it stares us down with glowing eyes from the shadows!”

"Oh! Uhm— sorry! I think I may have gone a bit overboard... I hope this answers your question though!"

Blank template under the cut in case anyone wants to use it LOL

[divine-victory]

@icyfox17

He desperately wishes to wipe his tears, kiss his forehead, and tell him that Bobby will fix it. The way he used to with Bobby Jr. after a nightmare. The way he was sure no one had done for Buck after Maddie left. But the promise was much easier to make about monsters in the closet than it is about this. How can Bobby tell Buck everything will be okay when Bobby still feels the loss of Marcy’s laugh?

I rewatch 6x11 and I understood big detail about Bobby. Bobby stopped his detective work with Wendell's case for Buck. He stopped everything for just sitting near his son praying. He wasn't thinking about anything else except Buck. Wendell's case could be really good distraction,a chance to send all his anger and grief in searching for the way to put Wendell's murders in jail. But no. Bobby was THERE FOR BUCK. No matter that Buck might never know it. No matter Buck might not hear him. But Bobby was there for him. He was waiting for his son to wake up. And then he heard how his son admitted he knew Bobby was there 😭

Bobby is real parent for Buck

[icyfox17]

The demons got to me... Anyways here's the first snipp of a 911 x Psych crossover lmfao

"A psychic detective?" Eddie's unconvinced voice rings out in the station's kitchen. "Yeah!" Buck replies, chipper as ever as he puts together a PBJ sandwich. "The amount of cases he's solved is crazy. And—! He even uncovered a dinosaur skeleton. I've been meaning to drive to Santa Barbara to see it. Maybe I'll take Christopher—” "A psychic detective," Eddie repeats, having barely processed anything else Buck had said. He chuckles. “You can't—you can't seriously think this is real.” “Eddie, he's been working with the SBPD for years. Don't you think if he was a fake they would've found out by now?” Buck asks, and his voice sounds so genuine Eddie kind of wants to cry. “Buck. Buck. Magic isn't real. There is no way that he's actually psychic. It's a publicity stunt! Makes the SBPD stand out or something.” “Just you wait and see Eds. Once you meet him, you'll have to believe it.” Buck says, pointing at Eddie with the most obnoxious grin on his face. Eddie can't help but feel fond at the sight of it. Sure Buck’s an idiot, but at least he's a cute one. Eddie gives up on having this argument with him. No matter what Buck says, he won't be convinced. They couldn't convince him with the jinxes (although some small part of him is still slightly freaked out about that) and they won't convince him with this psychic detective, not even if he's the most sophisticated all-knowing person ever. ~*~ “Gus, how many burritos do you think I can fit in my mouth? My money's on six, but maybe if I shove them in horizontally…” He reaches over to grab the cooler from beside Gus in the back seat, but Jules slaps his hand away. “Shawn, seriously? Those burritos are for everyone.” Shawn huffs, crossing his arms with a pout. “Yeah well, we've been in this car for hours, and I'm starving to death.” “It's been an hour Shawn,” Gus’ voice pops up from the backseat and Shawn shoots him a betrayed look. “Whose side are you on?!” Gus tilts his head. “The side that makes sure that I still have some burritos for myself.” He then opens up the same cooler that Shawn was just trying to reach into, and pulls out a perfectly tinfoil wrapped burrito that he delicately peels away. His eyes are alight with glee as he unhinges his jaw and prepares to take the biggest bite known to man, when Shawn twists around in his seat and grips Gus’ arm, pulling it and the burrito away from his mouth. “That burrito is mine sucker!” Shawn calls out, trying to take the burrito for himself. “Oh no you don't, Shawn!!” The two of them struggle back and forth, causing the car to shake slightly, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that Gus is a backstabber and Shawn needs his burrito! “Guys!” Jules’ voice calls out sharp, and the two of them freeze—Gus’ left hand smushed into Shawn's face, and Shawn’s free hand gripping Gus’ throat in a chokehold, their other hands wrapped tightly around the burrito in a tug of war. She outstretches her right hand, keeping her left hand on the wheel, and makes a grabbing motion. The two of them dejectedly give the burrito into her palm and she huffs, smiling. “Thank you. We have one more hour to go. You can both eat one burrito, okay? The rest are for when we get there.” She then takes a satisfied chomp of the burrito in her hand.

[wingedqueenlynx]

Tomorrow.

A small snippet for an Arkham Survivor chapter tomorrow. Foxy had an interesting time lol

[vodika-vibes]

So, I wrote a story earlier today, but it doesn't fit the theme of first meeting, so have a snippet that is Fox x Yuu's first meeting.

Note: Yuu is afab who uses they/them pronouns. They are addicted to color, all colors, all of the time and as a result dye their hair weekly and wear colored contacts to match their hair.

Tagging: @clonexocweek @clonethirstingisreal

Yuu rolls their eyes, unnoticed behind their dark sunglasses, as Chancellor Palpatine leads them down the opulent halls of the Senate Building.

So far as they're aware, these people are meant to be public servants. So why does the Senate building look only a couple of steps removed from a palace?

"Ah, yes. It's important for you to meet the head of the guard."

Yuu rolls their eyes again, "As you say, Chancellor." Still, there's no harm in being polite to the man signing those sweet, sweet paychecks.

He leads them over to a tall man with the symbol of the Guard painted on his shoulder, "Mistress Yuuna," Yuu fights the urge to grimace at the use of their full name as well as by being called mistress, "This is CC-1010. 1010, this is my new Personal Assisstant, Yuuna. Give her the tour."

Palpatine vanishes into his office as if he had never been there. Yuu's glad for it, they've always hated that old people smell.

The man, CC-1010 pulls his helmet off, revealing a handsome, but tired, face and greying hair. "Nice to meet you, Mistress Yuuna."

Funnily enough, he doesn't sound all that happy.

"Yuu," they correct, "Not Yuuna. Not Mistress. Just Yuu. It's my preference."

CC-1010 just blinks at them.

"Do you have a name?" Yuu continues, "I'm not calling you by a number. That's just rude." He still doesn't answer, do they continue, "If you don't have one, I'll just give you one. How about...Tenny? It's like Penny, but with a T."

"No."

"That's totally valid." Yuu chirps as they bounce over so they're standing next to him, "hm...what about, Red? Cause your armor. Ooh, or Scarlett. Crimson? Oh! I know! Vermillion!"

"Hey, quick question,"

"Yes?"

"Do you ever stop talking?"

"Only when I sleep, why?"

"Lovely."

"Yes. I think I'll call you Vermillion. Vermie for short—" Yuu rambles as they skip next to him, trying to keep up with him much longer strides.

CC-1010 suddenly stops, "I have a name, it's Fox."

"FOX!" Yuu bounces on their toes, "Oh! That's a great name, Foxy! It even goes with your uniform—"

"Fox. Just Fox. Not Foxy."

"Right, yeah. That's what I said. Anyway! Are all of your brothers named after animals? Do you have a brother named Hummingbird? They're my favorite animal you know."

"...are you breathing while you talk?"

"Breathing is for lesser beings."

"...you're going to be a problem, aren't you?"

Yuu just grins at him, wide enough that their eyes crinkle and their cheeks dimple.

Fox rolls his eyes, "I know why hummingbirds are your favorite animal."

"Because they're colorful—" Yuu starts.

"Because," Foxy interrupts, "Like you, They never stop moving, little bird."

Yuu blinks at him, stunned, and then they grin, "You," they point at him, "Just gave me a nickname! We're now besties forever!"

"You're annoying."

"Thank you!"

[lynyangell]

WIP Game

rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. tag as many people as you have wips. people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

I swiped this from @scienceoftheidiot because it looked like fun!

I have a lot of WIPs... Oops

Like We Never Loved At All

White Horse

Waiting to Die

We Danced Anyway

Something to Talk About

Couldn't Be Happier

Things We Lost in the Fire

Where Would you Be

I Need You to Love Me

As If

***Redacted cuz spoilers***😅

Meet Me On the Battlefield

Stolen Moments

Those are all for my series! Other WIPs:

Sir

Oh My Dear

Random Brief Lactation Kink Scene (OMgosh 🤦🫣)

Mute Riza for Foxy

Just Wanna Be Mad

Sick Day

Olympics AU

Fudge. Ok. Gotta tag too many people 😅 Of course no pressure tagging!

Looking forward to getting asks on this!

@theblueeyedfirebender @starwritingbri @rene-of-the-blackouts @magipies @usaigi @aquaseekerofdarkness @ajthepeach @baudleaires @bisexualriza @cilasbestos @dr-fancy-pants @edxwin-elric @they-lived @sevendeadlyseas @royai-for-life @quiet-nocturne @peapodsinspace @foxyslittlegarden @momomorriko @klainelynch

[ink-flavored]

Send me an emojis and I'll share a snippet* from the associated WIP!

Tagged by @vacantgodling! thanks!!

*If i don't have a snippet available, I'll do some world-building or give you a fun fact or something.

🪽Pride & Justice

🐉The God Dragon’s Wife

💭Unnamed Dream WIP

🏙️Tales from Athendrolyn

🌆Athendrolyn After Dark

🚀Space Cruise WIP

💰Henry & Priscilla

🪺Dragon Raising

aaaannnd i think those are all the WIPs i am prepared to answer questions about

Tagging: @foxys-fantasy-tales @monstrify @ceph-the-ghost-writer @auntdarth @damageinkorporated @srjacksin @wyked-ao3 @alesseia @kaitheenbydoesthings @foxboyclit @viscerawrites @void-botanist @papercutsunset @sigridhawke and anyone else who wants to play!

[skygemspeaks]

I finally got to sit down and finish episode one, and i've got some thoughts!!

I think that introducing garp as a big player right from the get go is a really great idea. His presence at the execution made sense, and his dynamic with roger did well to help establish both of their characterisations

Roger's actor did a phenomenal job with the eerie laugh and his complete irreverance in the face of his own death. I love how he delivered the wealth fame power speech!

It was a bit surprising to me that they showed roger actually getting killed, but honestly i'm in total approval of this direction they're taking with the live action. I really like the more brutal approach, especially because oda's refusal to kill anyone outside of flashbacks pre-marineford is one of the biggest complaints i tend to hear from people. Seeing zoro dragging around the top half mr 7's corpse was so jarring, but it was a good choice

Ilia's perfrmance as alvida was absolutely amazing. I like that they changed her catchphrase from the most beautiful woman on the seas to the most powerful

Overall, i really like the different transitions between plot points, and how this episode set things up in future arcs. All the different things that go on in shells town feel so much more better interconnected than they did in the manga. I'll go into this more in another post, but like one example of what i'm talking about is how the reason zoro allowed himself to be tied to the post was because morgan threatened that if he didn't agree to it, he wouldn't be able to collect any more bounties from any marine bases. It also gives zoro mire of a reason to join luffy - he knows that at this point there's no eay he can continue being a bounty hunter now that morgan has it out for him. So how else is he going to meet other strong swordsmen? By joining a pirate crew of course.

The shanks flashback was awesome! His dynamic with luffy was really endearing, and again i do like that they didn't have higuma attack shanks. That's one thing that never really made sense to me in the manga - i get thst yoy don't have to solve everything with violence, but there's no reason for shanks not to have fought back against someone who was attacking him, even if he did know they couldn't possibly hurt him

Also on shanks' flashback - the scene where he found out luffy had eaten the devil fruit was AMAZING. What a fantastic idea to have little luffy framed in sunlight! And the utter heartbreak on shanks' face as he realizes that there's no way luffy will ever be able to have a normal life now...

Of course, we gotta mention the snippet of Binks' Sake we heard in the scene where shanks is stitching up luffy's cut. I recognized it instantly and it made me really emotional. Love all these little easter eggs they have for long time fans of the series. In addition to this there was alsp the cavendish, foxy, and bellamy wanted posters which we knew about from the trailer

Speaking of wanted posters - what a COOL way to introduce the other pirates!

Morgan going on his monologue about capturing kuro is SO funny know what's gonna happen on a few episodes. Oda played it a lot more subtle in the manga but i like that they came right out and said it here.

And while we're talking about foreshadowing, it was a fantastic idea to include the mr 7 fight in this season! I really hope we get a season 2, just sp we can get the payoff for this great setup.

I'm a little sad that we didn't get to see the luffy and koby hug that was shown in the behind the scenes video (i think that was the one?). I really hope that wasn't cut because i loved that little scene. Maybe it'll happen later in the season?

Buggy's introduction at the end of the episode was SO good. I loved his whole vibe, with him lounging so confidently in his chair, his creepy laugh, everything. I'm excited to see the next episode! They better not have cut chouchou out 😭

[the-ace-with-spades]

little snippet from a buddie outsider pov future fic that i probably won't ever finish because its part 3 of a series, or aka the Bobby-fication of Buck

"I was told to report to Captain Diaz?"

The man, with Diaz clearly written on his name tag, stares. It's not the most friendly of stares but it's not that kind of a stare and Kori had his fair share of them as a brown boy who consistently used public transport and worked night shifts. He'd expected to have a welcome that wasn't the warmest but he at least wanted some kind of verbal acknowledgment. 

Well, this is awkward, he thinks, why is he not saying anything?

Kori woke up bright and early today, excited and anxious for his first day, over an hour before his alarm started blasting, and then made sure he had his bag packed with all the essentials he would need on a twenty-four shift. Four different sets of clothes, five meals in Tupperware, protein bars, a book, headphones, towel, shampoo and shower gel, the basic firefighting manual from the academy and his paramedic textbooks. He prepared to be too prepared rather than embarrass himself by asking to borrow shampoo on his first day.

He arrived at the firehouse via Uber because public transport in LA couldn't be reliable and he also couldn't afford a car and then he had stood panicked on the side of the truck bay for about fifteen minutes before checking his email again for the right names — Captain Diaz, 118 Ladder Company — all along to the schedule in his head.

And now the guy, he's just—standing there. Staring at Kori like he's debating whether he should eat him alive or roast in the oven beforehand.

The thing is, Kori knows he’s disappointing for a firefighter. He’s barely five foot seven, five foot six without the boots, really, and he’s lean and slim, in a way that would make some people doubt whether he can carry a person out of a burning building — he can — and he’s, well, he’s average.

But the One-Eighteen is stuck with him for the year, he might be average and disappointing, it just doesn’t matter. Because they are stuck with him.

He still hasn’t seen Firefighter Buckley.

"Are you Captain Diaz?"

He looks a bit young, for a captain, but he is pretty sure there have been younger ones in the history of LAFD. And Diaz is a common surname, in California, or common enough that it wouldn’t be impossible to have two people with it in the firehouse even if still a bit improbable.

"Oh," he says, looking down at the nametag on his chest, finally noticing where Kori's been glancing at the whole time. "Sorry, kid, that would be my husband. I'm Lieutenant Paramedic Diaz."

Kori, he must admit to himself, blinks at him like he had just spoken in Mandarin and not English. Because there are two Diazes in the firehouse. And both of them are his officers. And they’re married.

The—The lieutenant crosses his arms over his chest, puffing up like a peacock, and narrows his eyes. “Do we have a problem?”

“No, sir,” he says, immediately. “I didn’t know they allowed married couples to work together, that’s all.”

The lieutenant still looks at him like he's trying to assess the deepest secrets of his soul and raises one eyebrow at him like he expects a fight but his shoulders fall slightly. He's, uhm, very handsome, even this angry, in that foxy dad kind of way that Kori's never been interested in but knew it was a thing.

"My husband and I worked together for seven years before we married, I think we've proved we can stay professional," he says and it sounds a bit like a threat. "He's in the office downstairs. You should report to him before you're late to your first shift."

He smiles but Kori has a feeling it's a mean smile.

Kori does go back downstairs, passes the rest of the loft and walks past the kitchen where he sees three other firefighters, quietly eating breakfast. The conversation stops and they all collectively look up at him. He probably should say something or wave or anything so it's not awkward but no, he just speed-walks into the narrow corridor that — he hopes — leads to the offices.

He passes two doors before he finds the right one. There is a brand new plate hanging on the side of it, shiny and not dusty at all, with Capt. Diaz and Lt. Diaz written on it and the door is wide open — someone is in the closet in the back, from what it seems, going over documents or something that makes a similar rustling sound. Kori moves into the doorframe, going for a knock, when he realizes.

There's no door. Nothing, just an empty door frame with taped down hinges. There's no way for him to knock.

He clears his throat as loudly as he can.

There are two desks inside, one with a brand new plate of Capt. Diaz and one with slightly less shiny Lt Diaz on it. It looks like any other office, slightly bare on the shelves but also full of diplomas and official pictures of past officers hanging on the walls. There's also a framed drawing made by an elementary school kid, or Kori guessed it was an elementary school kid, of a firefighter in bunker gear, dead center on the wall behind the captain's desk, and a couple of photos of what he assumes is the station's crew, all in their dress uniforms — he can't see it very well.

The captain's desk is full, with another frame standing on the edge, three pencil holders filled to the brim, multiple kinds of colorful stationery, and stacks of documents and folders cluttering the countertop. There's even a freaking fidget spinner on it — he hasn't seen one since freshman year in high school. It's a mess but Kori knows that even being a probationary firefighter would mean way too much paperwork for a job that was technically blue collar. The new captain wasn't just a new captain, he was also newly-qualified to be a captain so Kori suspects he probably is barely keeping up with the forms and documents as of right now — it's a learning curve.

The lieutenant's desk also holds a couple of frames but there's only a small pencil case and a neatly arranged stack of folders lying in an even more neatly arranged corner.

And wow. That's Firefighter Buckley, even more awe-inspiring than he was eleven years ago

He looks at Kori with a half-smile stuck on his face but with a frown on his forehead. There are wrinkles around his eyes, forming like laughter lines. He tilts his head and Kori thinks—Kori thinks this is it, he remembers me, he—

"Khorshed Patwari, was it?" he asks and his grin looks the same, almost — there’s more wrinkles, around his eyes and on his forehead, and his face seems a bit softer, but it’s like a memory refresher. "Am I pronouncing it right?"

It's stupid — Firefighter Buckley saved probably hundreds if not thousands of people, he's been a firefighter for at least twelve years, probably, and Kori is just one of those faces he had seen for a minute or two. Easily forgotten. Average. It's understandable that he doesn't remember him, he would probably be more surprised if he did remember him.

"Everyone calls me Kori," he says, after clearing his throat. He knows he’s gaping like a fish, a bit, but he can’t help it — Firefighter Buckly looks almost unchanged and he can’t believe he’s here.

"With the h?"

He blinks. "Sorry?"

"Do you keep the h in Kori?" he clarified, huffing a small chuckle out.  "I want to know how to spell it correctly in the future."

"Just Kori, uhm, K-O-R-I, is okay," he explains, still star-struck.

"Uhm," he says eloquently. "I'm looking for Captain Diaz? I was supposed to report to him?"

"That would be me," Firefighter Buckley says and—Oh. He’s a captain and he’s—he’s married to a man that’s the station's lieutenant. He's not really Firefighter Buckley anymore, is he? "Although most people just call me Buck, or Cap, if you really must."