#it’s a bullet point list with extra steps

[def-ace-ing-it]

Sometimes you just look at a paper and can TELL it was written on someone’s phone, because why is every other word capitalized when it doesn’t need to be.

[zenkindoflove]

Elucien and Sarion Parallels

Ever since I finished HOFAS, I can't help but think of all the parallels between Elain x Lucien and Sathia x Tharion. It's definitely not a coincidence and it makes me have big high hopes for both ships in the future of their series. So I made a big list of all the ways their characters and situations are paralleling each other. HOFAS spoilers under the cut.

This is the most obvious parallel. Both Elucien and Sarion are strangers finding themselves in a romantic entanglement. Elucien's mating bond snaps as soon as they meet each other, effectively making them strangers who are soulmates. Sarion is a marriage of convenience trope, where before ever speaking to each other, they both agree to marry so that Sathia doesn't have to marry one of the Murder Twins. Both have to essentially get to know the other one under the circumstances of having a romantic bond between them.

Tropes Are Troping.

There are tons of similarities in the actual situations that Elucien and Sarion first meet. They are both in a throne room, standing in front of an evil Fae King who is putting Elain and Sathia in a very high-stakes, traumatizing, nonconsensual situation. Before Elain is turned Fae and before the mating bond snaps, Lucien protests what is happening to her, leading to his bondage. He breaks through the bonds once she is dumped onto the floor, running to her to cover her with his jacket to preserve her modesty and provide her with his protection. As the CC crew bargain for Sathia's freedom, which is going nowhere fast, Tharion offers himself to marry Sathia so that she doesn't have to be shackled to one of the Murder Twins forever. He's effectively, like Lucien, the only one who takes the extra step to protect her.

Meet Cute.

Given the trope that Elucien and Sarion are both in, both couples effectively belong to one another right from the start. Lucien and Elain are often referred to each other as mates and Lucien's internal thoughts claim her as his mate. "Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate". In Tharion's POV, he very quickly labels her as his wife and seems comfortable embracing that label for her. Literally, one of my favorite parts about these tropes is how these romantic and intimate labels now have such a distinct and powerful punch against the background of the tension behind the trope.

My Wife/My Mate

This section really deserves a bullet point list because omg, there are so many parallels in these two characters.

Lucien and Tharion

-Redheads

-Flirty rakes who like to "dally"

-Depicted as having lots of low-commitment sexual encounters before they meet their love interest.

-This part of their characters seems to be a defense mechanism to protect their hearts.

-As soon as they do find their love interest which is an instant high-commitment, they are both singularly focused on them and loyal. Feyre states Lucien no longer enjoys the company of females now that he's a "mated male" and we no longer see Tharion flirting with or hooking up with any other characters.

-They're both self-loathing, broody sad dudes who don't have high opinions of their worth. Lucien: "I am seventh son of the Autumn Court" And a whole lot of nothing. Tharion: Captain Whatever. More like Captain Worthless.

-Both jump around in their allegiances after finding themselves in abusive power struggles. For both characters currently in their respective series, they've jumped from court/queens several times, and essentially find themselves aimless and without homes, relying on the generosity of their friends to hopefully take them in and see their worth.

-Both have had someone they love tragically taken from them that greatly affects their motivations and self-loathing.

TBH there are probably a ton more but this is just what I'm thinking of on the fly.

Elain and Sathia are a shorter list but I think that is only because we know less about them than Lucien and Tharion respectively.

Elain and Sathia

-Both are a more traditional feminine archetype. They're described as beautiful, petite, with many characteristics associated with upholding tradition and fulfilling more stereotypical feminine roles.

-Both are shown to value marriage and seek it out from men with power and influence. Elain with Graysen and Sathia in the HOSAB bonus chapter when she asks about Cormac.

-Both fall madly in love with their first love. Sathia says her separation from Collin is her "Ordeal". Elain is shown to be horribly depressed and desperately runs to find Graysen the first opportunity she gets. As Sathia does once she sees Collin again.

-Both are described as having some "vapid" traits that makes people underestimate them. Elain's interests in gardening and cooking is dismissed. Sathia is described as a fairly stereotypical rich and prissy girl who Ruhn thinks only cares about her manicures and clothes.

-Speaking of that underestimation, we see at different points in their series that characters around them are often surprised when they reveal that they are actually quite intelligent, thoughtful, and brave.

-Both have a moment of "standing up" for their love interest. Elain's famous "His name is Lucien" line and Sathia standing up to the Viper Queen on behalf of Tharion when they meet her in the alley.

-There is of course a bit of a difference between them. Elain is described as being more timid. Ruhn refers to Sathia as "a predator". So they both take a bit different approaches to how they fit into their social groups.

Elucien and Sarion both enter into their romance trope with other love interests either in their pasts or currently that they're involved with. Lucien has Jesminda, who he still loves deeply and mourns her death. Elain has Graysen, who she is engaged to but her turning Fae puts a big wedge in their relationship. Sathia isn't with Collin but clearly still loves him. It's unclear how far their relationship ever got. Tharion is the only one who is emotionally "unattached" but he is very much still in the web of the River Queen's daughter and his 10-year long engagement of duress to her.

It's complicated.

In both cases, Tharion and Lucien are effectively unattached. Maybe it's complicated but they are more free and open to the bond they now have to this stranger. Elain and Sathia are not, however. Both Elain and Sathia show that they still have a deep commitment to their former loves and take similar actions by giving into their most romantic fantasies and running after their first loves to try and save the relationship. We know for Elain, that her seeking out Graysen was the nail in the coffin for them. With Sathia, her situation with Collin is left very open ended. But both are full of angst and both show that Elain and Sathia are very romantic at heart and commit deeply to the men that they love. Both Tharion and Lucien are shown to be very understanding and not possessive of Sathia and Elain. Lucien is not present for Elain seeing Graysen but he gives her space to work through her feelings and it's known he's met Graysen and doesn't think highly of him yet its implied he has left him alone. Tharion does not go after Sathia as soon as she leaves to find Collin and even hopes that should he die she'd be free to marry Collin if he can get away from the Viper Queen.

She is still in love with her ex.

Now we don't know how Elain or Sathia truly feel for Lucien and Tharion. We have neither of their POVs. We do however see Tharion and Lucien's POVs and at least based on actions alone, Lucien is clearly more interested in pursuing the mating bond than Elain is at the moment. When Sathia leaves to find Collin, Tharion spends a lot of time with her letter and its said he can't stop thinking about her as he makes his way to help Bryce with defeating the Asteri.

He falls first.

Lucien and Tharion both go to "rescue" their love interest. Lucien desperately wants to leave Spring to make sure that Elain is okay after her trauma in Hybern. He still doesn't trust the Night Court and has no idea what they're doing to her. He crosses Prythian with Feyre, going into Autumn Court where he knows they could kill him on the spot and where he experienced some of his worst traumas. But he braves it all just so he can see Elain once and make sure she's okay. He's fully aware she has a fiance and may not want anything to do with him. Tharion, after the Asteri are defeated, is seen in his last chapter of HOFAS returning back to the Meat Market where the Viper Queen holds a bounty on his head and essentially owned him as her slave. But he returns so he can make sure that Sathia is not in danger. Similar to Lucien, he's returning to the place of his trauma, risking it all with little expectations that Sathia will "choose him"

Damsels in distress.

Lucien is an emissary and he is well known for his social skills. Elain similarly has been described as being very charming and sociable, able to befriend servants or nobles. It's a common head canon amongst Eluciens that Elain and Lucien, once they start spending time together, will find themselves in a situation where they have to act as emissaries and Elain will impress Lucien with her natural skills. We see this scenario play out with Tharion and Sathia when they try to convince the River Queen to protect some of Crescent City's most vunerable members. Tharion is impressed at how skilled Sathia is when talking to the queen, able to charm and "speak her language" which is that of nobility and politeness.

Emissaries.

Prediction: I have a feeling that not only are both Elucien and Sarion end game, but I think their end game is going to be mirror images of where they started. Elucien started with a mating bond and I think they will fall in love and choose to marry each other. And the reverse, Sarion started with a marriage but I also think they will fall in love and the mating bond will snap between them. It would just be such a cute additional parallel to how SJM has set up their characters and story arcs.

[buckychristwrites]

Idk if you take requests outside of the prompt lists you’re doing right now, but I had a concept I feel like you would write AMAZINGLY so I just had to tell you, feel free to ignore if you don’t vibe with it! So, reader and Jamie in a relationship, he’s trying to take things slow and not be as focused on the physical like he was in past relationships. Meanwhile however reader is aware of his reputation, and starts to feel undesirable, like there’s something wrong with them because of how slow things are going, and starts feeling insecure that they aren’t good enough for Jamie to want ‘like that’. Angst and accidental miscommunication abound! But obviously things are explained and there’s a happy ending

This made me think of the idea that @imfalling-inlove sent me that i posted about a few days ago. So i’m gonna kind of combine the ideas a little bit, i hope the both of you don’t mind!

-

The night hadn’t been a particularly pleasant one. Not for you, anyway.

The hotel mirror casted your reflection back at you. You stared, turning and poking at yourself. Could this be smaller? Could that be bigger? With every second that passed, another bullet point was added to the list of things you’d change about yourself if given the chance. And the list was already quite long before you started tonight’s excursion.

“What’re ya doin’?”

You didn’t immediately answer, instead just continuing to push your abdomen inwards, as if the extra squish would just dissipate into your skin and stay there.

Jamie Tartt’s reflection appeared behind yours, his eyebrows knitted together as he watched you.

“Oi,” He said, putting a hand on your shoulder. Instinct made you pull away.

“Do you think I’m ugly?” You asked him. He jerked his head to the side.

“What?”

“Is that why you won’t touch me? Is it because i’m hideous?”

You felt hysterical as the emotions continued to well up in your chest and pour out of your mouth, but you didn’t care. Everything was hurting. Your head. Your chest. Your heart. You felt like you were bleeding. Jamie continued to stare.

“Who said-“

“You literally had your dream girl,” You continued as if he didn’t speak. “You had Keeley’s poster on your wall as a kid. And now you’re settling for stupid, ugly, fat fucking me.”

And it wasn’t just Keeley you thought of. It was all of the beautiful women who had come in and out of Jamie’s very public life over the years. While you claimed his larger than life body count didn’t bother you, it was hard to ignore that there was something about you that made you an outlier comparatively to the rest.

“What the fuck are you on about?” Jamie said defensively. You turned to face him, your back towards the mirror. It was easier to speak to him through the glass, though. Now your eyes welled with more tears.

“There has to be an explanation to why you would force yourself to be with me when you could have anyone, Jamie,” You said flatly. He shook his head.

“I don’t fuckin’ want just anyone.”

“Then how come you can sleep with them but not me?”

“‘Cos you’re fuckin’ different!” He was raising his voice, which made you realize that you had already raised yours.

“Different as in a rest stop until you find another destination to head to?”

“Different as in I wanna fuckin’ marry ya!”

The argumentative attitude fled your body like a criminal on the run. Jamie’s chest was heaving up and down.

“Wh-“

“I see my future in your fuckin’ eyes,” He hissed, taking a step closer. “You’re different ‘cos I wanna watch ya walk down the aisle in a white dress. You’re different ‘cos I wanna have ten kids with ya. Or no kids with ya. But any kids I have, they better fuckin’ be yours. You’re different ‘cos I wanna be in me 80’s, slow dancin’ with ya in the kitchen. And you’re different ‘cos I wanted to take this slow so you didn’t think I was just fuckin’ ‘round!”

He ran his hands through his hair as you watched, dead silent.

“Keeley may have been a girl I dreamt about but you are literally the woman of my dreams. I couldn’t’ve invented ya if I tried.”

Carefully, he took another step closer, putting his hands on your sides and pulling you forward so your forehead was against his cheek.

“As for the rest…” He said quietly, shaking his head against your skin. “I’ll spend the rest of me life provin’ that you are the most beautiful, sexy, incredible woman I’ve ever laid me eyes on if I have to.”

[b-blushes]

did i ever talk about the a4 planner notebooks i designed and had made on here? 👀 (they all have blank covers which i decorate with stickers each month)

blank inside cover (this is my may/june planner which i started decorating yesterday, so there's a thank you note from my raahatillustration order in there), all the printed pages are printed on square paper! next page is a 2024 and 2025 calendar (minimum print quantity was 10 books, so i designed each book to cover 2 months and had 12 printed, for 2 years supply!), followed by a blank grid for future log of the 2 months that come after the ones in the current notebook).

page for trackers! i use the left hand page to write the things i'm tracking (sideways in the top box, so a column of boxes is assigned to each activity/task), then colour in the boxes corresponding to the date and each activity/thing each day. also doubles as a migraine log (colour in the box containing the date when i have a migraine), and the blank column is so i can colour in a mood tracker. the right hand page is for making a record of what i'm reading and watching (genre, start date, end date, title and author if applicable). lots of extra space for decorating or notes if i want to.

monthly page! (2 per book). the left is for a monthly overview that is heavily decorated/all the things i'm doing are written in (no completed version to show bc i have too much personal info in my completed ones to redact. sad bc they turn out very cute!!!). the space underneath that is where i stick in a copy of the playlist i'm listening to that month/any decorations i want to add. the boxes at the bottom have 31 spaces, so on the left of that i write down 4 physical therapy things i track to fill in each day. on the right hand page is where i write a little brief list of things that will be nice the following day, then the grids at the bottom are for me to shade in 'the degree to which i went outside', and a 'big picture' idea of the weather.

weekly spread! (10 per book). how i keep on top of the day! for vertical planning, with a running list-ish style chores log on the top left corner, and a blank setup on the top left corner of the right page for things i want to achieve across the week but that i can't assign to a specific day yet (or take place over multiple days). lots of room for me to stick in photos, a column for notes, and a gap at the base of the page for me to track other things. i colour code each month so it's easier for me to keep track of where i am in time, so a strip of washi tape goes along the bottom 3 rows of squares, and then above that i'm left with 3 more rows of squares - in the 'notes' column i pick 3 things to track, and then draw a line across the column for each day of the week when i do that activity/task in the corresponding row. for example:

weekly horizontal spread (10 per book). this is for my daily reflections, i write down things like my step count for keeping track of health stuff/energy expenditure, when i got up/any time i had to lay down, a bullet point summary of all the activities i did that day, times i made a decision that was, like, good for me, things like that!

blank squared pages (7 per book) and inside back cover for miscellaneous uses. i've used them for far for garden planning diagrams and collages, sticking in notes and ephemera, and collecting odds and ends of stationery. i usually stick an envelope that i've made inside the back cover so i can stuff a bunch of papers in there as i accumulate them (receipts, tags from clothes, order delivery notes, etc), for example:

tada! really happy with how these turned out, very good investment of the money i would have put into buying a hobonichi each year for example, which is simply too small for my needs!

[charincharge]

I Don't Want To Wait, sixty-eight

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

AN: I said I was back, and I meant it! Anyway, if you haven't read the last update, this is the second update this week. That's right. New Chapters 67 and 68. NSFW-ish warning.

Aelin was exactly seven minutes early to her interview. She’d spent the last week emptying her closet and putting together the perfect outfit – a sweater dress, tights, and boots that were just the right level of put together – and mapping out exactly how long it would take to get to Xavier’s house, so she could feel the most prepared walking in. She would not be late to the most important meeting of her life. No way.

She slid out of the jeep and waved goodbye to Rowan, who promised to be waiting at the closest coffee shop until she was ready to be picked up. She assumed it’d be around thirty minutes, but she honestly had no idea how long this interview would take. It wasn’t like she had any experience. Looking around, Aelin took a deep breath and took her first step down the long driveway and toward her future. She gained confidence with each step, feeling her stride lengthen and solidify as her chunky boot heel crunched the gravel beneath it.

They were definitely in the wealthier part of Orynth, closer to where Lysandra’s family lived. Sprawling lawns and expertly manicured greenery dotted her winding path. It felt so different than her own tiny street with closely stacked duplexes and shared family homes that she felt a small tug of insecurity before reminding herself that she was prepared for this. Both her dad and Rowan would attest to that. She’d put them through their paces, going over the “best answers” to potential questions that ranged from her favorite book (The Secret Garden — to lead into her thoughts on why lack of autonomy within the disabled communities is a problem) to what she planned to study (an interest in biology and pre-med with flexibility to also take liberal arts classes) all the way to challenges she’d had to overcome and how she’d  personally be an excellent addition to the Wendlyn community. Those were too complicated to boil down into small snippets. But she had the bullet pointed lists laid out in her head, ready to be explained and fully ready for engagement. Honestly, as nervewracking as this whole situation was, she felt prepared. She reassured herself one more time, scrolling through her list of answers over and over, until she reached the oversized front door. In the middle of it all was a door-knocker so large and cumbersome she hoped she could lift it.

Another deep breath. She could do this. No matter how rich and fancy this person was. Whatever laid on the other side of that door, she was ready and prepared for.

She inhaled, filling up her lungs with extra reassurance, but as she lifted her hand to raise what was surely a heavily weighted solid brass knocker, the wind was completely knocked from her chest. Of all the things she had prepared herself for, she had not anticipated this one single thing that could fully derail her.

Before Aelin knew what was even happening, she could feel herself shrinking at the sight before her. She’d know that perfectly coiffed hair and polite smile anywhere.

“Mom?”

“Aelin,” Evalin said, leaning in to kiss her on both her cheeks, surely leaving behind smudges of her burgundy lipstick on Aelin’s pale cheek.

She leaned back and looked Aelin up and down, her crystal eyes pausing and practically flinching at the tiny snag in Aelin’s tights. She’d only had that one pair and even went over it with clear nail polish to make sure it wouldn’t pull or run more, fully assured that Xavier wouldn’t be looking at the side of her shin where her boot met the tights. But she hadn’t anticipated Evalin’s eagle eyes pulling apart every slight detail, searching for anything out of place to berate her for. “Don’t you look lovely,” Evalin continued, though the downturn of her lips as she touched Aelin’s sweater dress gave her real feelings away. Evalin chuckled as she stepped aside, letting Aelin enter into the large dark foyer. 

“Why don’t you take off your coat, darling?” Evalin said, reaching her hand out.

Aelin cleared her throat, trying not to let the slight choking feeling overtake her and draw in a steady breath as she finally got out a soft, “Mom, what are you doing here?”  

If Evalin was fazed in the slightest, she didn’t show it at all. But Aelin had never felt so small. She had worked so hard to put together this outfit, and now that her mom was looking at it, she knew it was all wrong. The sweater dress had been put through the wash one too many times, tiny pills forming in its most worn spots. Evalin would have shaved them off. Or bought Aelin a new dress. She’d make sure that Aelin had a fresh haircut, none of her desperately-in need-of-trimming dead ends left unevenly past her shoulders. She tugged at the sleeve of her sweater dress as her coat disappeared from her shoulders, suddenly feeling naked without it. There was a tiny thread coming undone from the hem of the sleeve, and she knew that without a doubt Evalin would clock it. The woman missed nothing. She should have tugged it and tried to remove it immediately, but all she could feel was shock and horror. Needing something to do, she untucked her hair from behind her ear, letting it tumble forward, but of course that was the wrong thing to do. Aelin could never do the right thing. Be the right way. Be good enough to keep her mom happy. To keep her around, even. 

She swallowed the thick lump in her throat as Evalin frowned and straightened her shoulders back, warning Aelin silently to do the same. As she retucked the thick gold wave behind Aelin’s ear, her furrowed brow melted away, replaced by a smile only reserved for others. 

“Xavier, please meet my beautiful daughter, Aelin,” she said with a sweep of her hand. It took everything in Aelin not to flinch as the hand gestured toward her. Instead, she donned her most polite smile — ruing the way it felt like an Evalin reproduction — and bowed her head and curtsied, instinctively.

Xavier chuckled. “Oh, my. Look at that,” he said as his elbow nudged into the air by Evalin’s side. “Impeccable manners, of course. I would expect nothing less from an Ashryver,” he continued, his tone light as he ushered Aelin further into the cavernous foyer.

Xavier was everything she should have expected but was somehow unprepared for. He was Evalin in male form. His thick blonde hair was perfectly coiffed, swooping gently over his forehead in a way that told Aelin is had taken hours of work and product to get it to look so natural. He was tall but reedy, like someone who spent a lot of time mixing up green smoothies, per his personal trainer’s request. His navy suit was clean and pressed, sharp with creases that told the world he was someone with something important to say. Shiny cufflinks glinted in the mid-afternoon sun, and Aelin knew if she looked close enough they’d be monogrammed with a flourished script.

“But no need for formalities,” he continued, oblivious to Aelin’s turmoil. “Your mother and I go way back. In fact, our parents’ parents go way back. Evie and I were friends long before our time together at Wendlyn.”

Aelin nearly choked at the use of the nickname for her mother. She’d never heard anyone address her as anything other as her full name, and it took Aelin aback that this man was not only allowed to use this familiarity but received a smile in return for it.

“We were bred in the same kennel, as my father used to say,” Xavier said scratching at his too clean-shaven chin. It was red and shiny and Aelin wished she could stop staring at it and listen to him again. “I can’t remember a holiday I didn’t spend with the Ashryvers,” he droned on.  But Aelin’s mouth was faster than her filter. 

“But I’m not an Ashryver. I’m a Galathynius,” she said. Two pairs of eyes widened but melted quickly back into an amused gaze. 

“Hi, ho. A spitfire, just like her mom. That’s the Ashryver spark for sure,” Xavier said, ignoring Aelin’s growing discomfort.

Because she wasn’t an Ashryver. She was a Galathynius. 

“Who, me?” Evalin batted her lashes and giggled, feigning innocence. Flirting. Aelin’s mom was flirting with this man. This alum. Right in front of her. She swallowed again, biting down the ire rising in her throat. She hated it here. She would do anything to send a fire signal to Rowan to come and pick her up immediately, but, no. She had an interview to complete still. An alum to impress. Aelin could feel her heartbeat quickening as she realized that she still had an interview to complete. That her mom would bear witness to this whole thing. She just wanted to get it overwith and be out of her presence as quickly as possible.

“Can we get started?” Aelin cut off the man, who was clearly surprised. 

“Ah yes,” he fumbled with his thumbs and shoved them into his pocket before taking one back out and gesturing down a long dark hallway. “The study is right this way.”

Study. So formal.

She looked down the long hallway and tried her best to grasp at any of the tendrils of her waning confidence, but it was fruitless. Aelin had never felt so out of place, like such a fraud. Here she was, pretending to be Wendlyn material, but that wasn’t her; that was Evalin.

Evalin, who had grown up with this man, knowing that her future held the glowing promise of a Wendlyn future. Evalin walked through this home as if she belonged there, looking completely at home. But as Aelin traversed the dark portrait-lined hallway down to the study, she could feel the sharp stares of the painted faces judging her with every cautious step. You don’t belong here, they seemed to mock, their pinched noses and haughty smirks watching as Aelin’s chunky boot heel step on the delicate mosaic tile beneath her feet. She didn’t want to think about how expensive these fancy floors were, and the fact that her $20 boots were most likely leaving black rubber smudges against them.  

While Lysandra’s family home was fancy, it was nothing like this – whereas her house was bright and wide and open and modern, this expansive home was dark and crowded with ornate moldings and décor that felt like it could close in on Aelin at any second. She managed to keep her feet steady, despite the long walk down the seemingly never-ending hallway. She could hear Xavier maintaining casual conversation with Evalin, but Aelin stayed quiet, fully focusing on maintaining her stride and praying that she wouldn’t stumble and fall or accidentally break something. Foreboding crept up Aelin’s spine as Evalin fell into pace beside her and smoothed out the fabric of her sweater dress against her back. She could feel her picking off an imaginary piece of lint from the shoulder just so she could dig her fingers into her bicep and pull her close. 

“Behave, please,” Evalin whispered through clenched teeth, causing Aelin to stumble, just as she’d feared she would. “Careful, darling,” Evalin drawled in a much lighter tone. “These floors are priceless.”

“You break it, you bought it,” her mother and Xavier said in unison as he pushed open the door to his study. They both laughed as it was something hilarious from their youth, but all Aelin heard was – You’re not one of us. Again and again and again.

Aelin blinked at the harsh expanse of daylight that filtered through the floor to ceiling windows lining the wall of the study. Thick burgundy drapes were pulled back to allowing a shock of grey-white sky to cast its milky pallor over the dark wood room, somehow leeching it of any warmth, despite the burgundy and mahogany color scheme. 

“Ah yes, it’s quite the view, isn’t it?” Xavier chuckled as he gestured to the frost-laden yard that seemed to go on for miles and miles. “You can see the mountains in the distance on a clear day. When we first bought this place, the neighbors behind us were trying to plant trees in our view, which turned into a bit of a legal battle. But it ended up alright. We bought them out, and now we have a perfect view.” His voice was haughty with pride at the notion of buying someone out of their home. Aelin’s stomach curled at the notion that one person could be so selfish. But still, she put on her best smile and nodded politely. Evelyn would tolerate no less.

Still smiling smugly, Xavier waved Aelin over to the large leather loveseat where Evalin was already perched. But Aelin didn’t want to sit next to Evelyn. She couldn’t think with her hovering so close — all her well-prepared answers had floated to the recesses of her memories, blocked by the constant perusal of her mother’s perfectly controlled facial expressions. But as Xavier slid into the arm chair across from them, Aelin was at a loss. There was nowhere else to sit. She’d have to sit next to her mother.

As she slid onto the stiff couch, the skirt of her dress rode up slightly, catching on the leather. But before she could even it out, Evalin was there, doing it for her. Always hovering. Always watching. Aelin didn’t even realize that Xavier had asked her a question, until she heard her mother’s sharp whisper. “Don’t be rude, Aelin. Answer.”

“Hm?” Aelin’s head whipped up, watching Xavier face lips tug downward into a slight frown.

“Xavier was just asking what you’re interested in studying?” Evalin repeated, her blue-grey eyes staring a hole into Aelin. 

Aelin knew she had an answer for this. She’d talked about the phrasing with Rowan over and over about why it was actually a benefit that she wasn’t completely sure what she wanted to study yet. That it allowed for… curiousity? Flexibility? No, that wasn’t what she’d wanted to say. The words were completely mixed up in her head, and she couldn’t make heads or tales of them. With every flash of her mom’s eyes, Aelin’s rehearsed answers disappeared further and further until all that was left was a gaping black hole of confusion in her anxiety-addled brain. What was she supposed to say? She had no idea. Literally none. She couldn’t do this. Oh god. She couldn’t do this.

Aelin swallowed back the threat of tears as she croaked out a quiet, “I don’t know.”

“Aelin has many interests,” Evalin jumped in, placing her perfectly polished nails on Aelin’s knee. “She’s trained in ballet and is extremely creative.”

She should have said something about how she had just joined Orynth’s Dance Company. About her time spent teaching last fall, how dancing was for fun and she wasn’t sure she’d want to pursue it professionally but she loved that Wendlyn had recreational dance teams she could participate in. That was the answer she’d rehearsed. It was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t seem to make her mouth and brain work together.

“Ah, so perhaps a performing arts major?” Xavier asked. “I myself studied the bard and was in a play or two back in my day. Wendlyn has a thriving theater department. We even have quite a few celebrity alums,” he continued, oblivious to Aelin’s complete mental shutdown.

“No,” Aelin said. Apparently she couldn’t even explain more than that. She could see the corners of Xavier’s eyes tightening uncomfortably as he watched Evalin’s hand grasp Aelin’s knee – the edges of her dark red gel tips sinking into Aelin’s tights, as the conversation plummeted into a dead silence.

“Right,” Xavier cleared his throat, clearly at a loss. Aelin could feel her stress welling as he continued, hopeful, knowing that her next answer was sure to be another disappointment. Just like her entire being. “Well... perhaps you’d like to tell me about why you’re interested in Wendlyn?” he asked.

And though Aelin knew she had a full essay response for that exact question, she simply shrugged and let him continue his list of questions, each one said with less curiosity as Xavier realized what Aelin had feared: she wasn’t Wendlyn material. And with each question and answer, Aelin knew her chances of getting into college with Rowan were quickly disappearing.

. . .

Aelin had been in a mood in the days following her interview with Xavier and she who shall not be named. But, she was trying her very hardest to keep a smile on her face and pretend like she was totally fine. Mostly because today was Rowan’s first lacrosse game of the season, and he needed her in the stands cheering him on, not sulking about her botched interview. It wasn’tthat she wasn’t a fully supportive girlfriend, but she wasn’t feeling particularly into lacrosse — the sport that was fully responsible for handing Rowan a future that she so clearly wasn’t going to be a part of. She wanted him to do well, but an uncomfortable feeling of panic was pressing against her chest, and it was taking everything in her to put a smile on her face. And Aelin was a lot of things, but a spectacular actress was not one of them.

To Rowan’s credit, he was letting her feel her feelings without pushing. He’d asked how the interview went upon picking her up, and Aelin had simply snapped and said, “Bad.” When he pushed for any more information, she shut him down completely and she could feel a thick wall of armor rising. She’d been furious, practically shaking with anger, but for some reason, hadn’t want to share her mom’s surprise appearance with him. She’d told him that she’d talk when she was ready, and even though she knew he wanted to push, he accepted what she’d asked for. She wasn’t ready to talk about it. She had other things to think about. Like figuring out any other plan for her future that still included Rowan.

Which is why that Friday morning, she donned her green and gold best, tied her long braided pigtails with the #47 ribbons she’d decorated in puffy paints last year, and woke up early to grab a few special treats for her boyfriend on his big day. Before this whole debacle, she’d asked Maeve if she could make a batch of Rowan’s favorite peanut butter cookies, decorated like his jersey, and sure enough, they were waiting on the counter with two coffees when she let herself into their townhouse. She could hear the shower running upstairs, along with a loud blaring bass of one of Rowan’s pump-up playlists, and she forced herself to take a deep breath and push aside any traces of residual insecurity and focus on Rowan. It was his big day, and she knew he was nervous. He always was.

Within minutes, she heard his heavy step skipping every other stairs as he descended into the kitchen where she was waiting, and his smile upon seeing her there temporarily melted away her bad mood entirely. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get over receiving that look from him.

“Happy game day, Captain,” Aelin said, smiling widely.

His arms surrounded her, sliding beneath the hem of her shirt, as he leaned in and pulled her against his chest. He smelled warm from his shower, and she took a moment to inhale the comforting scent of his pine body wash combined with something just innately Rowan.

“Coffee?”

She held out the cup in his direction, but he ignored it in favor of kissing her. Who was she to disagree? She let herself melt into it, letting her anxieties disappear for the moments his mouth was on hers.

“Missed you,” he mumbled, and she couldn’t help but laugh against his lips.

“You saw me less than nine hours ago.”

“Too long.” He pulled her even closer and went back in for another kiss, this time with more fervor. His tongue slid between her lips, and she could feel herself getting slightly carried away as their bodies pressed together even tighter. Her grasp on the coffee cup in her hand was getting dangerously loose when he finally pulled away, resting his head against her forehead and bringing the coffee to his lips.

“Mmmm. Delicious.”

“Me or the coffee?” she asked, eyes twinkling.

“Both.” He leaned in and kissed her one more time. “I wish we had time to go upstairs, but…”

“Someone has a game to kick ass in today, and missing first period is probably a bad way to start that off, huh?”

He nodded sadly, but the mischief didn’t completely leave his green eyes as he looked her up and down. “But maybe during lunch?”

Aelin couldn’t control the burst of laughter that bubbled up her throat. “A pre-game warm up?” she teased.

“Always.” He let his hand fall to the swell of her butt, pinching it lightly and causing Aelin to yelp in surprise.

“Be nice or I’m not giving you your cookies.”

Rowan raised his brow. “You baked?” he asked, rightfully skeptical. After all, he spent most of his time with Aelin and he would have definitely noticed if she’d disappeared to Maeve’s for a few hours without him.

“I had help,” Aelin said, procuring the tray of decorated cookies.

His excitement couldn’t be contained as he leaned back in for yet another kiss, but Aelin knew that if they kept this up they definitely would be late for school.

“Later,” she promised, hoping that would keep her spirits afloat.

But as soon as she waved goodbye to Rowan in the hallway, all her doubts came flooding back. She parsed through every second of her time with Xavier and her mom, wondering if there was any world in which that interview could have been construed as positive, but she knew in her heart the truth. She had bombed. Big time. Not just a minor bomb. That whole afternoon had been a full nuclear wipeout with no survivors left standing. She’d killed her own opportunity, and she’d never forgive herself for it.

By the time lunch came around, Aelin was so deep into her self-pitying wallowing that she felt like she was being suffocated by negativity. She’d hoped that seeing Rowan would brighten her spirits, as it had this morning, but apparently that’d been a fluke. She was just as prickly as ever, barely even smiling when he greeted her with a giant bear hug, spinning her around the hall in an exuberant whirlwind. In fact, her mood was made even worse by the flurry of cheerleaders who giggled in his presence, blushing as they wished him luck in tonight’s game. She practically hissed as one got too close, flashing her canines in feral warning.

“Ease up, Ace,” Rowan chuckled as he led her out to the far side of the parking lot where the jeep was parked.

“Stupid fucking cheerleaders,” she grumbled as she slid into the back seat. She was so in her head that she barely even noticed Rowan driving to their special secluded spot — a nearby parking lot that was midway through some sort of construction when it had been fully abandoned. She was sure the crews would come back one day, but for now, it was perfect for their, uh… needs.

Rowan joined her in the back seat and pulled her onto his lap with skilled ease, as if they’d been doing this for years, rather than merely weeks. But it was good. She was on full autopilot. Aelin’s body knew exactly what to do without being in her brain at all. Her hips rolled against his lap as his fingers tangled in her hair, clashing their teeth together in a harsh mingling of breaths and low groans. She didn’t wait for him as she pulled her top off, and allowed her head to fall back as his mouth trailed down her neck and to the bare expanse of her cleavage. Gods, she loved him so much. What was she ever going to do without this? She tried to imagine a world where she didn’t get to be this close to Rowan, but all she saw was a gaping painful hole in her hear heart. She felt her throat closing slightly and swallowed down the threat of emotion she’d careful kept walled up all week.

“Ace?” Rowan looked up at her with concern, clocking the change in her breathing, but she forged forward. She would not lose any time with him. She’d take advantage of every second they had together. Clothed and unclothed.

“I’m good,” she reassured him,

But she knew he could feel the slight waver in her touch as she reached down to his waist to unbutton his pants. His green eyes flashed in warning, but she ignored it, pulling him into her hand and tightening her grasp exactly as she knew he liked it. Autopilot.

Her hands regained their surety as she continued, lulling Rowan into a state of blissful arousal. She leaned in and bit his exposed throat as he leaned further into the seat, moving his hips into her hand. Her mouth opened and sucked at his skin. Hard. She wanted anyone who saw him to know that he was spoken for. That he was claimed. That he was hers. No matter what. She never wanted anyone else to know him like this, and she could feel her pulse stutter as she even considered the possibility of that. No.

She needed to refocus. Without removing her mouth, she reached for the condom he’d placed beside them on the seat and opened it. She leaned back just barely enough to make room to place it on him, not wanting to give him any space. That was the opposite of what she wanted. She could hear him groan a loud expletive as she slid on top of him and started to move. He fit so perfectly. No one else would ever fit like this. And when it was gone, she’d miss it so, so, so much.

“Oh, Ace.” She thought he was moaning her name in pleasure, but it wasn’t until he said, “Aelin, baby, stop,” that she clocked the tone was actually of concern. His face was blurry, and as she blinked, she felt that her cheeks were fully wet. Unbeknownst to her, silent tears had welled and dripped from the corners of her eyes in full, hot streams. “Baby, stop,” he said again, his hands going to her hips to still her, but her autopilot refused.

“No, it’s okay,” she said thickly. “I’m okay.”

“Aelin, you are not okay. You’re crying.”

She tried to keep her legs in a vice grip around his hips, but he was fully in control as he pulled her off of him and tucked himself back into his pants.

“No, no,” she croaked, her tears pouring out in earnest now. “We can keep going.”

“Ace, we’re not going to have sex while you’re crying.”

“I’m not crying,” she sniffed as his hands came up to her cheeks, wiping his thumbs against them. That seemed to be the thing that cracked her open, a full sob releasing from her mouth as her shoulders shook with the weight of the past few days. Rowan shushed her gently as he pulled her against him, rubbing comforting circles into her back. But she barely felt a thing. All she could feel was the hot sting of embarrassment and shame.

“Do you want to talk about it finally?” Rowan asked, but Aelin shook her head into his shoulder.

“N-no.”

“Okay.”

And she knew that he meant it. He’d sit there, erection still throbbing in his pants as she cried it out silently. That only made her cry harder. She owed it to him to tell him what had happened. She didn’t even know why she’d kept it to herself. Maybe she’d just wanted to pretend for a little longer that the future she’d imagined for them could happen.

“I blew it,” she finally said.

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Rowan said. Her body was suddenly exhausted, and she couldn’t sit upright anymore. Or maybe she just couldn’t look at his face during this conversation. Instead, she slid until she was slumped across his lap and cuddling into the soft fabric of his pants. She struggled to calm her breath as he ran his dexterous fingers down her back and up again.

“You may as well break up with me now,” she sniffed.

Rowan’s hand paused on her back and tilted her ruddy face to look up at his concerned gaze. “Ace, I thought we talked about this. No matter what happens, we’re not breaking up.”

“That’s what you say now, but…” Another wave of tears took over as she sobbed. “What if you meet someone else? Some pretty and smart Wendlyn girl who fits into your world?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Rowan asked, seeming genuinely perplexed as his finger pushed aside the stream of tears on her hot cheek. “You fit in my world perfectly.”

“But all those girls at Wendlyn are going to be from upstanding families with two parents whose names are on libraries, and I bet they wear real pearls and have perfectly painted nails that are never chipped, and—”

“Aelin, what the fuck are you going on about? Why would I care about any of that?”

She bit her lip, sniffing back another round of tears as she finally told Rowan about Evalin’s surprise appearance and how of course she couldn’t have gotten that interview without Evalin’s help, tugging on those elite strings. And how clear it became that she was anything but that.

Rowan scratched at her scalp, and she leaned into his comforting touch.

“I don’t use the word hate lightly, but I fucking hate Evalin. What she did to you, surprising you like that with no warning was completely fucked up. She should have told you she was going to be there. Leaving you unprepared like that wasn’t going to help your chances, even if she thought being there would. You deserved a heads up. And the fact that she didn’t think you did just shows how little she understands about life. And you.” He took a deep breath. “And it’s okay to feel fucked up about what she did. But, Ace, it’s not okay to think I’m just going to suddenly disappear from your life if you end up at another college. That’s not going to happen. Never. Ever ever. I’m going to be in love with you for the rest of my life. Forever.”

“But—”

He held up a finger to her lips, shushing her. “But also, one person’s review of you isn’t going to make or break your college admission. You don’t know what anyone thinks of this Xavier dude. He could be hated! They could have him interview people as a barometer for who not to accept.”

“That feels highly doubtful, Ro,” Aelin laughed through the remnants of her tears. “But I appreciate your optimism.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s not over until the school year starts. And even then, it’s not over. Best case scenario, you get in with me for the fall. But there are a hundred other things that could happen before then. You could get waitlisted and get in, you could apply to transfer after a semester or a year, if you wanted. Or, other best case scenario, you love wherever you end up, and we still make this work with phone calls and video calls and weekend visits. Because I’m going to love you for the rest of your gods damned life, so stop trying to get rid of me,” he said, poking her cheek with each pointed word. “It’s insulting.” He paused, looking her over thoroughly, and it felt like he could really see through her in that moment, and she could hear his words before he even said them. “I’m not your mom.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” he asked. “Because I definitely don’t have my last name on any libraries. And I couldn’t tell you what a real pearl looks like if a million dollars were at stake. And guess what? I bite my nails, and the only reason Evalin even came around to the idea of me is because Wendlyn became interested in me. You think that I feel like I’m going to magically fit in there, but I doubt many students were raised by their single aunt and grew up working in her restaurant. I don’t have a trust. That’s why I needed this scholarship.” He paused. “If we’re weighing which one of us belongs at Wendlyn more than the other, only one of us is a legacy there, you know?”

“Okay,” she whispered, but the hurt was still so raw, and she felt ragged from her marathon of crying. She could feel Rowan still hard in his pants, and she felt awful. She went to reach for him, but he sternly put her hand back by her side.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“But—”

“We’ll celebrate after I win the game tonight,” he said.

And true to his word, they did.

[avaisnerdytoo]

What makes C-137 Rick different in the eyes of Evil Morty? A simple list.

I had this drafted around when the episode came out and I hadn't finished it, sooooo here you go heh:

This is arguably a pretty obvious set of answers, I'm not making any big deep dives here or anything, but I felt curious enough in wanting to see some kind of realized list of how many ways our Rick is different from his counterparts, specifically to the eyes of Evil Morty, that's to say, within the show, what kind of interactions have made Evil Morty slowly chip away in his absolute ideas about our Rick specifically.

Contains content since season 1, but mostly Season 7 due to the amount of interactions.

Bullet point is the actual list, indented is additional, but optional, context I deemed valuable:

C-137 Crying: Obviously the first would be Evil Morty - through Evil Rick - seeing our Rick cry when seeing baby Morty, even if we don't have that explained yet, this genuine care that shocked E-M this much was only reinforced in Season 7 when Rick, just before going to hunt Rick Prime told Morty he "couldn't go", evidently so that he stays safe.

This is extra reinforced when Evil Morty and Morty Prime join Rick against our big bad, E-M throws an insult right away expecting the reason for Rick's frustration to be "they did something cool and I didn't" (a jump cut), but no, C-137 only says... "You brought Morty???"

Evil Morty is a Morty registered within the Council's data base, he's been passed around, probably adopted by various Ricks, of whom clearly view that service as a tool to reinforce their detachments. Even if there is a petty and truly emotional reason underneath the existence of such a program, the Morties in those centers only see the very worst of Rick, because that's who they are paired up with, they only see how disposable they are every single time, time and time again.

C-137's respect of Evil Morty: Right away as S7EP5 begins, and E-M joins in with our duo, he's immediately greeted with what I am willing to bet is a different kind of attitude, one of respect. Rick is not dissmisive of Evil Morty, granted he knows his capabilities, however he even compliments Evil Morty on his journey to fucking off, a life style he very much enjoys - supposedly, but still - this is reinforced the moment Evil Morty suggests the modifications to the fracking machine, one which Rick takes notice of an implements right away, no insult attached interestingly enough.

That respect is also seen after Rick connects the dots with Evil Morty being responsible for hacking his Portal gun, back in Season 5, a detail which most Rick's would've arrogantly shrugged off by underestimating Morty. I am not saying respect can't be earned from other Ricks, after all he was president, but I am focusing the basis of this on Evil Morty's absolutist mindset regarding how Ricks are meant to be.

Teamwork: Although Rick points out the same logic we as the audience and fans did in theories prior to Season 7, regarding the assumption Evil Morty would hate Rick Prime more than our Rick because he's even worse, the actual teamwork simply plays out naturally, first through circumstance, but then by convenience. Nonetheless in each step Rick is once again cooperative with Evil Morty, treating him like an equal in a way that I think we haven't really ever seen before besides Beth, and sorta Summer.

I feel it's no small detail that E-M's first instinct after grabbing the Portal guns they were quickly tinkering with to escape the box was "don't freak out", the subsequent lack of freaking out also reinforces all of the shit I'm repeating myself on haha, again list of the obvious remember?

And finally the most obvious: C-137's goals are focused on avenging his Wife, as we well know. This singular detail already places him on a different bracket of existence as Rick's aren't meant to care for anyone other that themselves, even if this goal was the reason that fueled Rick's cooperation, signs of respect and more towards Evil Morty, he still did them... That would also technically place the other trapped Ricks, like Nerd Rick or James Bond Rick, as other challengers in Evil Morty's views.

This is how Evil Morty finally showed a crack in his absolutist views about Ricks.

•

"You are a little different, Rick..."

Maybe I can use that someday...

[juneknight]

Take These (Sunflower Seeds)

About this: The Soulmate AU trope where a goose will lead you to your soulmate. (Yes, this is a trope?? When I heard it, I knew I needed to write this, I'm so sorry). Steven Grant/fem!reader. Fluff.

Immersivity: this reader wears high-heels and works as a secretary in a law-firm. She is given no physical description nor name. Any further details which hinder your immersive experience are welcome to be pointed out to me.

*

You press your forehead to the cool glass of your office’s entrance, eyes scanning back and forth. Beyond is a patch of grass nicely landscaped: flower beds filled with hardy geraniums and lobelias surrounded by wood chips, iron benches, bins with special lids to keep the critters out. Bisecting the grass is the concrete sidewalk that leads to the parking lot, and just beyond the lot, one of the busy streets of London. 

Besides typical foot traffic on the sidewalk and through the parking lot, the yard is empty. 

“You haven’t fooled me, you bastard,” you mutter beneath your breath.

Someone clears their throat behind you. Whirling, you see one of the lawyers who had made partner standing behind you, not very patiently waiting for you to move so he could access the door. 

“Oh, sorry, Mr. Giovanni,” you say, stepping out of the way. Your customer-service persona immediately assumes control over your body, speaking through your mouth with a measured politeness that the man doesn’t deserve. “Have a lovely weekend.”

He hums, breezing out the door and down the sidewalk. You watch his peaceful, easy retreat with a scowl. 

“Best bite the bullet and run for it,” one of the other secretaries teases you, slipping past you and out the door. You’ll add that to the list of helpful advice you’ve received. Towards the top, even. 

You reach down to slip your heels off and tuck them into your tote. Out come your tennis shoes. The feeling of wearing them with only your tights to act as socks is a sensation you will only be able to stand for the sixty seconds it takes you to sprint to your car. You must look like a madwoman, your running shoes at sharp odds with your prim work-wear, your tote clutched to your chest like you are about to run across a patch of hot coals. 

Convinced it is now or never, you take a deep breath and rush through the door. 

And you make it to the bins before you hear it: the most obnoxious honk you’ve ever heard. The goose comes barreling from around the corner of the office, cutting off your retreat. 

This fucking goose. 

When your law firm changed locations in the spring, you had been grateful for the shorter commute. The atmosphere was certainly better as well, what with the flowers at least—as a matter of fact, your building’s little thirty-by-thirty plot of grass was some of the only greenery within the surrounding three blocks. 

Perhaps that’s one reason why the goose always comes back. For the atmosphere. 

The second must be because it’s a dark little creature born of sulfur and brimstone with the singular goal in life to torture you. 

You consider yourself a woman of slightly above average resilience. You are the one the girls in the office come to if there is a spider that needs squashed (little do they know you scoop it up in one of the paper cups from the fountain and deliver it to the nearest potted plant—little bastards never did anything wrong besides have a few extra legs). You carry pepper spray. You are capable of asserting yourself when necessary. 

But your fear of geese is new. Something about the throaty honk of this particular goose turns you into a child, shrieking, incapable of defending yourself. If you thought you could bargain with it, you might have tried. Please Mr. Goose, kindly leave me the fuck alone and I promise I’ll donate more to charity, I’ll return my trolley to the designated spot and stop leaving them in the parking lot beside my car, I’ll never tip less than twenty-percent. But a part of you believes that this goose would accept no bargain. There will be no parlay. There will only be blood—yours. 

The goose, its ridiculously wide wing-span spread, comes towards you like a child running into the arms of its mother. 

“Get the fuck away from me!” you shriek. You clutch your tote tighter, dancing between fight or flight. Should you turn and run? Should you punt the thing like a football? Are geese a protected species? No, couldn’t be, there’s so many of them—but then your rushing thoughts come to an end because it is upon you, the air rustling around you from its wings, its honk deafening. It will go for your eyes first, you know it, that’s exactly what a cold-hearted killer would do—

“Hey—shoo!”

The geese swerves away from you so suddenly that you nearly slip, your tennis shoes sliding in the grass after the bird had ushered you off of the concrete pathway. A man comes rushing from the parking lot. There is a black bag strapped across his chest, which he has reached into. He withdraws a handful of sunflower seeds which he scatters in the grass. The goose, to your utter amazement, dives for the seeds, pecking at the ground with the same decisive pleasure it might have used on your eyes.

The man looks at you, and oh. Oh, he is pretty: tanned and tired, hair dark and curly, with dark eyes and a nicely curved nose. The smile he gives you is a little bashful as he offers you his hand to help you back onto the concrete pathway. 

“Are you alright? The bleeding geese in this city—a little too domesticated, if you ask me. Not that I’m helping much, what with the sunflower seeds but—” 

“That goose wants me dead,” you say, pointing at it with a shaky finger. 

The man’s pretty face twists into an expression of such poignant grief that you can’t doubt it for an instant. “I wish I could say he didn’t, but never in my life have I seen a bird so absolutely fixated on choosing violence. I’m Steven.” 

“Steven,” you repeat, testing the name in your mouth. You offer him your hand and your own name. His palms are cold, but you know the saying: cold hands, warm heart.

Reaching into his bag, the man pulls out a small package of sunflower seeds. “Please. It’s dangerous to go alone. Take these.” 

“I couldn’t possibly,” you say, even as you gently accept the gift. 

“They were less than a pound, love, hardly breaking my bank.” 

Love. Such a familiar moniker from a strange man would ordinarily repulse you—but instead, you find yourself softening. This man isn’t like the weirdos you encounter on the tube. 

“Nevertheless,” you say. “Could I buy you coffee? To repay you for the seeds. And for saving my life.” 

He stares at you. “Me—coffee? You want to get coffee, with me?” 

“Very much.” 

“I—alright. Sure. That would be lovely. Did you walk?” 

“Somewhat.” 

“Well at least you came prepared,” he says, glancing at your tennis shoes. “Would you like to pick the place?” 

“There’s one nearby—” 

“Down the block, yes. Very good choice. Not a single goose hangout on the way.” 

You laugh. “It sounds like I’m exaggerating, honestly, but that goose has been hunting me for the last six months, and no one else ever seemed to take it seriously. As a matter of fact, for a few weeks in the beginning, it was sort of a big joke for the ladies in my office to gather in the lobby and watch me try and make it to the street. I���ve had nightmares about that fucking goose, honestly. I—” you stop, suddenly, face growing warm at how childish your next statement sounds. “—this is silly, but I even named it.”

Steven absolutely melts. He stops in the middle of the parking lot, turning to face you full on. “Oh come now. I must know.” 

“Truly?”

“Without question.”

“Well if you insist—I named it Mark.” 

Steven blinks at you. The strangest expression passes over his face. He points back towards the goose and says with absolute conviction, “You know, he does strike me as a Marc.”

“You think?” you reply, delighted. 

“Absolutely, yes—watch your step, love, there you go. Now, I'm all turned about. Which way is that coffee?”

[inkedobsidian]

~ Unexpected - H.Z ~

prompt: #52 "That was kinda hot."

summary: After destroying the serum the group get stuck in crossfire, and literal fire. Until Zemo comes to get them out

pairing: Helmut Zemo x Reader

warnings: murder, fire

word count: 835

a/n: Requests are open! Prompt list is there if you guys want extra ideas!

Master-List - Prompts

After a certain point Y/N begun to regret telling Sam, she'd join his crusade into trying to helping Karli. Then Bucky broke Zemo out of prison things got even more chaotic. Now they were in the middle of Madripoor with a bounty on their heads surrounded by crossfire and literal fire. Y/N's ears begun to ring even louder after another thing was set on fire, or maybe it was from Sam and Bucky bickering again. She'd lost count at this point.

"It's in every action movie!!" She heard Sam shout over gunshots.

"Can we stop the bickering for two seconds while we figure out what we're going to do!" Y/N shouted over everyone's voices. The boys stopped arguing and looked at her and Sharon waiting for a plan to magically appear, and it kinda did. A person appeared walking over another crater towards the group.

"Is that?" Y/N trailed off as the body pulled out a gun and shot a gas main mere meters away from the group. Once they shot they jumped down from one container to the other landing on a concrete floor with a barrel roll. Once on the ground, the figure grabbed the person standing in the middle to use as a human shield as he shot the guy closest to him. Once dead they turned around still holding onto the man to shoot the furthest one away. Once both guys on the side were dead he swung the man around he used as a body shield kicked him away then shot at point-blank range.

"Go! Go now!" Bucky shouts after the final man was killed, the entire team piled out starting with Sharon and ending with Y/N making sure there was no one running behind them. As they sprinted past container after container bullets kept flying from random directions which made everyone pick up the pace more and more. Once they get to the middle of the shipping crates Sam decides to take a right after the bullets stop. Just as they do two men appear from different directions and Sam pulls open a crate door to cover Sharon.

"Buck! Y/N!" Sam shouts as he pushes Sharon into the container. Bucky rips off a pipe from the container door and attacks the guy immediately behind them and Y/N pulls a knife from her leg holster and throws it at the other bounty hunter hitting her straight in the eye.

"Let's go!" Sam says as he pulls Y/N and Bucky into the container hoping for some freedom from being constantly shot at. They make sure the other door is closed and take a moment.

"So… do we wait in here to be potentially killed or does Buck bust open the other door for us to potentially die?" Y/N questions letting herself drop to the floor and rest on her heels. Everyone shared a questioning glance wondering if they were gonna die how would they want to go. Bucky just nods and turns around busting open the other side of the gate. Everyone stepped out and immediately looked around hearing no more gunshots. That was until a muscle car came pulling around with Zemo in the driver's seat. He breaks in front of Y/N before gesturing to the car.

"Supercharged." He says with a smile but only to Y/N

"That was pretty hot," Y/N says ignoring the looks from Bucky and Sam, gesturing to earlier when Zemo took out 3 people without struggling. Zemo's eyes went wide as he realized what she said and he coughed to try and make himself feel calmer than he was after Y/N called hot.

"Annnnyway, You're going back to jail," Sam commands. Sam wasn't impressed at Y/N's comment and he made sure his eyes said so both to Y/N and Zemo's reaction to the comment.

"Do you want to find Karli or not?" Zemo retorts trying to distract himself from the comment made. Maybe, he thought, if he ignores the comment they'd act like it hadn't happened.

"He's right. We need him." Bucky says not impressed with his own comment, he decided to just get into the car without questioning himself "There's 3 of us and at least 20 of them."

Y/N took it as a sign to get in the car so she walked around the front, and felt Zemo's eyes on her as she walked past the hood, then without opening the door she jumped into the seat straight behind Zemo. She then just began to ignore the comments made by everyone as she took her ponytail down and let the wind run through her hair and they sped through the streets. After a while Y/N felt someone's eyes on her and she looked to see Zemo watching her in the side mirror, she just gave him a smile and a wink and waited to see the blush appear on his face, it did. They just spent the rest of the car ride exchanging glances in the mirror, hoping no one else had noticed.

[deeply-unserious-fellow]

Elena of Avalor is a really solid show. There are like, almost no flaws in the narrative that I can find, and the ones I DO find are all minor and don't really effect it in the grand scheme of things, which is really impressive!!! But if I have one major complaint, it's with how the show handles it's magic system.

Not counting any contradictions between EoA and StF, the lore isn't so much inconsistent as it is vague. There's a lot I wish they elaborated on, mostly about Elena's powers, that they just didn't. So here's a bulleted list of all the things I wish got dug into a little deeper :D

The difference between normal wizards and malvagos. All we get on that front is that malvagos use dark magic that wizards are incapable of using? And that you become one by getting a spell cast on you??? And they have animal motifs?????? Like wtf is up with that.

How much magic Elena gained from being in the amulet. She was literally marinating in magical juices for 41 years, which you'd think would have deeper effects then just seeing ghosts and being able to use a cool scepter??? But she doesn't get any powers independent of magical objects until Takaìna, which is kinda weird and leads into my next point...

How the magic Elena gained from the amulet effected the magic she gained from Takaìna!!! Obviously Takaìna is a MUCH more powerful source of magical radiation then the necklace, so falling into that gives you more magic, but did the stuff Elena got from the well just get added on to her amulet magic? Did it enhance the already present magic?

Also, how does Takaìna even work? Is it like radiation but not deadly? Does falling into a well full of crystals hurt? Because I bet that would fuckin hurt. Why does falling into a well of crystals even give you, or the stick you're holding, powers in the first place? Does it actually even GIVE humans inherent powers or does it just give them the ability to use magical items? Is Elena's DRESS the actual source of her mood magic??? I mean we never see her use the mood magic WITHOUT her color changing dress so like-

On an unrelated note, why is Zuzo the only chanul Elena sees consistently? Is it because he's her chanul? Is it because she's just coincidentally never in the same room as anybody else's? Given how chanul's powers work being pretty similar to the way spirits come to the living world on Dia De Los Muertos you'de think she'd be able to see all chanuls all the time. Also cAN ESTEBAN SEE GHOSTS TO???? LITERALLY WHY HAVEN'T I SEEN ANYBODY EXPLORE THAT POSSIBLITY THERE'S SO MUCH POTENTIAL THERE-

How the fuck does the Scepter of Light work? Elena's the only person who can use it at the beginning of the series, and up until the Scepter of Night is introduced I just kind of assume it was because the amulet gave her a Very Special type of magic. But then Shuriki uses the Scepter of Night with no issues whatsoever???? What's her source of inherent magic??????? And then ASH can KIND OF USE THE SCEPTER OF LIGHT????? IS IT BECAUSE MALVAGOS HAVE INHERENT MAGIC IN THERE SOMEWHERE?????? BUT THEN ELENA SAYS IT ONLY RESPONDS TO GOOD MAGIC WHICH IS CONFUSING BECAUSE I WAS UNDER THE IMPRESSION THAT AT LEAST ELENA'S MAGIC WAS PRETTY NEUTRAL!!! THEN ESTEBAN CAN'T USE IT UNTIL HE SWITCHES SIDES BUT WHY???? WHAT MAKES MAGIC GOOD VS EVIL!?!?!?!?!? WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!?!?!?

Okay this one's kind of just a nitpick but there are several spells that just. Do the same thing. Like the turn somebody upside-down spell is just Levaluke with extra steps 💀

Why is Esteban's hair like that after he falls in the well? We know it isn't stuck like that forever because he manages to get it under control during the coronation. Is making the users hair stick up his staff's version of the scepter glowing to signify somebody can use it? If so WE WERE ROBBED OF ELENA'S HAIR STICKING UP LIKE THAT IN THE FINALE THAT WOULD'VE BEEN SO FUCKING FUNNY-

Okay those are all the things I can think of right now. Tbh I'm kind of just posting this to open up a discussion? I wanna rally together what little is left of this fandom to try and piece together a coherent magic system!!! It's what this show deserves!!!!!!!!/pos

[angelasreblogs]

Master List Organization Poll

I would love to have everyone's input on master list organization. I have a lot of content and my ideas of how to most efficiently present it keep changing.

I used to have a short paragraph/blurb for each story out to the side of the title. Now I just have bullet pointed lists of titles under categories (ie, “collabs”, “Poly stories”, etc).

I used to have things sorted into multiple master lists, then put them all in one place for simplicity then moved them again, sorting into several blogs each with its own master list: TRR Scribbles, TRR Poly, TRR One Shots, TRR Bad Romance. On these blogs, you will find them further divided by category, but all shown on the same page/list.

I’m wondering what works best for the readers. When you go looking for content, which format do you prefer?

Examples

Ex 1 List of stories with blurbs:

Insurrection: Riley isn’t what anyone thought she was. Her actions set off a civil war in Cordonia. Eidolon: Construction in the four-hundred-year-old throne room awakens an ancient evil. Unexpected Max has an inappropriate fixation on Riley. Dark Elf: Liam Rys is unpleased that his human half has left him not quite immortal. He has a plan to correct that. American Girl: Riley, Drake, and Liam grew up in a small town in North Texas. High school graduation scatters the three lifelong friends and shakes up their respective relationships.

Ex 2, same as one but divided into categories

Paranormal: Eidolon: Construction in the four hundred year old throne room awakens an ancient evil. Dark Elf: Liam Rys is unpleased that his human half has left him not quite immortal. He has a plan to correct that. Non-Royal Au's: American Girl: Riley, Drake, and Liam grew up in a small town in North Texas. High school graduation scatters the three lifelong friends and shakes up their respective relationships. Drake x Riley Stories My Best Friends Girl: Drake Walker struggles to contain feelings he shouldn't be having as he finds himself falling for the same girl as his best friend. Star Crossed: Drake Walker meets the woman of his dreams the night before his best friend's wedding but there's a major obstacle.

EX 3 Title only, one long list

Three Weeks in Ramsford

Complicated

Hinge

The Proposal

The Agreement

Forbidden Passion

Savage Love

Royal Retribution

The De Facto Queen

Victim of Love

Ex 4 Title only, divided into subcategories but still all on ONE master list

Riley x Drake:

My Best Friend's Girl

Lavender and Crimson

Star Crossed

A Fervid Fixation

American Girl

Riley x Liam

Insurrection

Other Pairings:

In Your Room Drake x Leo

The Crown and the Shield Jackson x Constantine

Broken Jackson x Eleanor

Leo & Liv Leo x Olivia

Collaborations:

Mardi Gras Mayhem

One Step Ahead

One Night in Cordonia

Cordonian Royal Airlines

Ex 5: The way it is now, links to separate blogs/ML. Stories are divided into broad categories (each of the below links leads to a separate master list where stories are then sorted into further categories but all on the same page/list)

IE: You click on one of these and when you go to that page, you see ex 4 above. ex 4 is what you get when you click on TRR Scribbles here.

Why Choose? Poly/RH stories.

TRR Scribbles: Mono pairings

Law's End: A crime procedural

One-Shots: TRR one-shots

Visuals: Art, edits, etc.

Extras: other TRR stuff

Ex 6: The way it is now, links to separate blogs/ML but with paragraphs/blurbs giving a brief description of the story. So organized like ex 5 but when you get to the ML, instead of title only, there would be blurbs like in ex 1.

Ok, was that clear as mud? If you understand all that and have an opinion, I would love to have your feedback!!!

Tagging under the cut. Thank you all in advance for your help!

@karahalloway, @harleybeaumont @nestledonthaveone @alj4890 @aussiegurl1234

@walkerdrakewalker @kingliam2019 @twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14  @tinkie1973 @secretaryunpaid @irishgrl2022

@queen-arabella-of-cordonia @kristinamae093 @tessa-liam

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @queenmiarys @emersyn-in-cordonia

 @bascmve01 @twinkle-320 @mattiematt1234 @jared2612

@dcbbw  @amandablink @indiacater  @bebepac

@lunaseasblog @belencha77  @gabesmommie1130

@hollygirl1269 @mainstreetreader

@ladyangel70 @ohmyeightpastlives  @gardeningourmet

@sillydg @phoenixrising0308

@3pawandme @21-wishes @73geenalove @jennieausten

@princessleac1 @kachrisberry @tornbetween2loves

@fangirling12566  @pinklipsandmasonjars @savannahdix

[wordywarriorwrites]

Got You

Title: Got You | AO3 | Master List | Rating: M

Summary: Working at a ranch along the shores of The Rio Grande has always been dangerous, but Javier Peña makes it just a bit safer for you.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Warnings: Language. Smut. Violence.

A/N: I haven’t written anything in over a year, but I was inspired by watching Pedro Pascal in Narcos. Your feedback is always welcomed and appreciated.

The smugglers had broken through huge swaths of fencing along the waterline, and all that extra freedom had been too tempting for the cattle to ignore.

A handful had been lost to the other side of the border. Others had taken hours to herd out of the river and back onto dry land. You were knee-deep in water, trying to coax a stubborn heifer from the brush and onto the pebbled shore when you heard the rev of a motor.

And even on a hot day, that sound always managed to send chills up your spine.  

A boat full of armed men coasted up, idled not ten feet from you, and made their demands clear: get in and let them have their way with you or be pumped full of lead and end up as fish food.

Part of your job was to help patrol the shores of the ranch, but you’d never done it alone, and you’d always carried a shotgun. But this time, it was an all-hands-on-deck situation, and the team was spread thin. You were on your own - that’s why they’d been brave enough to target you. And the pistol holstered at the small of your back was no match for the machine guns pointed in your direction. If you tried to make a run for it or reach for your gun, they’d mow you down.

You also knew if you got in that boat, you’d be dead or on your way to being trafficked before sunset.

One minute, you were alone, wondering if this was how you were going to die and if your body would be found before it was decimated by wildlife. The next, you were falling backward into the water because the pigheaded cow got startled by a sudden burst of gunfire and trampled you to escape.  

Filled with adrenaline, you stayed under and swam your way to shore as fast as possible. When you surfaced, your heart was thundering in your ears, your lungs were burning, and you fell repeatedly as you scrambled out. The cow made a lot of ruckus as it waddled up the bank, and you shooed her on as you did a slip-and-slide right on after her.

Yelling and swearing and pop-pop-pop. A series of splashes. A putter of the engine and acrid smoke. You turned and saw three dead bodies. Watched as they bobbed and weaved in the current. There was one survivor, who was promptly sent to hell with a curse and a final bullet right between the eyes.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” you yelped as the brain matter plopped and splashed.  

Javier Peña stepped out of the tall grass, voice low and tight, “You alright?”

You spooked like a cat. Reacted like one, too. Yowled and grabbed for your gun and swung wildly. The burning sun and dry wind felt suffocating. You wiped your forehead with the bank of your hand and came away with a streak of blood. Both the cow and Javier stared at you blankly from their place on the grass, and you knew you probably looked one bird short of needing the cuckoo’s nest, so, you didn’t blame the man for stepping forward and carefully prying the gun from your hand.

“What are you doing here, Javi?” you wondered.

He let out a ragged breath and tucked the gun into his waistband, “Just keepin’ an eye on you.”

You blinked slowly. Tried not to stare as the boat and the bodies of the dead men began to float downstream. The dust, the blood, and Javi’s all-too-knowing eyes. It reminded you of just how dangerous the smugglers were, and when you hobbled over the bunkhouse threshold an hour later, Javier knew what you needed because he understood it, too. 

And he’d snuck into your bed enough times to know where you kept the good stuff.

You returned your gun to its holster and hung it up to dry. Javi fished two clean glasses from the dishrack and the bottle of Maker’s Mark out of the footlocker beneath your bunk. As he poured you both liberal doses, you gingerly sat on the mattress, and shakily lit a cigarette.

“Cow must’ve got you good on the way down,” he observed quietly as he went to his knees and yanked your soaked boots from your feet. “Might need stitches.”

“I’ll be alright,” you exhaled as you tapped ash into the tray next to you. “Besides, forehead wounds always bleed somethin’ awful. Doesn’t mean I need the sewing kit.”

You weren’t even halfway through your second glass when the others filed in to check on you. After assuring everyone you’d survived being shot at and kicked by a stubborn cow, they headed back to work. You, on the other hand, stubbed out your smoke and carefully got to your feet.

“I need to clean up,” you stated as you returned the bottle to its hiding place. “Your dad will want a report as soon as possible.”

Without waiting for a response, you grabbed your toiletry bag and headed for the bathroom. Other aches and pains - like your lower back, shoulders, and even your ribs - revealed themselves as you struggled out of your soaked clothes. You were about to step into the stall when Javi entered, furrow-browed and naked as a jaybird.

You cleared your throat and swallowed hard, “Still keepin’ an eye on me?”

He dipped his chin and placed his gun on the sink countertop. Keeping it within reach was more for his personal comfort than your benefit. You’d learned over time his gun was like a security blanket; he felt safer with it, never went anywhere without it, and it was always within arm’s reach.

As soon as the curtain slid shut, the adrenaline began to wear off. Your eyes welled with tears, and you hurriedly stuck your head beneath the spray to quell the sudden onslaught of emotions. It wasn’t the first time you’d been held at gunpoint, and you knew it certainly wouldn’t be the last. You needed to bury it. Muffle it and put it away because it would happen again, and blubbering about it wouldn’t change anything, but the moment a soft, soapy cloth touched your shoulder, the waterworks started.

“It’s okay, gato montés,” Javi murmured repeatedly as he carefully scrubbed. “You’re alright.”

You couldn’t stop hearing the jeering voices of those men. Couldn’t stop imagining what would’ve happened if Javi hadn’t shown up. And when he carefully pressed the cloth to the cut on your forehead, you splintered. You felt as if you were about to vibrate right out of your skin, and the makings of a scream began to build in your throat. It threatened to claw free, but before it could, you were wrapped up in Javi’s arms, and somehow, that pulled you out of the spiral.

“Peña,” you breathed.

“Oh, it’s back to Peña, is it?” he rasped. “Thought we’d gone well past that.”

Javier’s love - much like his rage - was quiet. Akin to the whisper of a blade between the ribs, it had snuck up on you painfully, unexpectedly, and in some ways, with devastating consequences. Sure, he was still a flirt, and yeah, the girlies really liked him, but he was steady. Protective. Fearless. Loyal to you.

And only you.

You laughed lightly and in response, Javi kissed you brutally. All teeth and tongue and no finesse or even a hint of gentleness. He pawed at you. Squeezed you. Tugged at your hair and gripped you tight without any thought to your tender ribs and muscles. You pressed yourself against him, whimpered with the ache of it, and the pain reminded you that you’d survived.

He gripped the back of your neck and let out a low groan, “M’gonna take you to bed. Now.”

His hot skin. The goose egg on your forehead. Both of you naked atop messy, damp sheets. You, wide-eyed and raw. Him, gaze weighted as it lingered over all your blacks and blues. Your shaky fingertips on his cheek and his warm breath on your goose-bumped flesh. It could’ve been worse - a hell of a lot worse - and your thoughts of torture and what the inside of a body bag looked like must’ve shown on your face because he abruptly rolled on top of you and grasped your chin.

“You’re mine,” he growled. “And they got what was comin’ to ‘em. Yeah?”

You were too stunned to speak or even move, but that didn’t seem to bother Javi. He just kissed you again. Bit at your neck, ears, and shoulders. Settled down between your legs, gripped your thigh, and hitched it over his hip. And when Javi slid inside, it was fast and to the hilt, and you let out a strangled groan at the burning stretch.

“Javi,” you wheezed. “Shit!”

Javi retreated slowly and pressed forward, “Wanna make you feel good. Gonna make you forget.”

Each thrust rocked the bunk and pushed you up the mattress. You planted your hand on the wall above your head to prevent your skull from being knocked because Javi’s pursuit of your pleasure was relentless. The slap of skin on skin and the wetness between your legs was vulgar, and when he rubbed slow circles on your clit with the pad of his thumb, you went from sensitive to overstimulated in a handful of strokes.

Blinding pleasure warred with acute pain, and it all centered in your lower stomach. You clenched on every downstroke, and he grunted a series of expletives into the crook of your neck. Javi knew how to draw it out; in fact, he preferred to get you there slowly and make it last, but not this time. He worked your clit furiously and the climax was so sudden and brutal, it brought a fresh wave of tears to your eyes.

“There ya’ go, gato montés,” he groaned in a satisfied tone. “Just like that.”  

You trembled, body somehow simultaneously taunt and relaxed as he coaxed you further into submission. It didn’t take long before you were completely surrendered to him - legs wide and knees practically shoved up to your ears. Javi had you pinned and blinded by a hurts-so-good type of fuck that you weren’t sure how you were going to be able to sit in the saddle for the rest of the day.

The second wave followed right on the heels of the first. A thunderous gallop made even better by being maneuvered onto your stomach and taken from behind. Javi splayed over you, thrusts pointed, deep, and rhythmic. Your face turned and neck craned so he could stare into your eyes and kiss you, mouth soft and gaze tender - a direct contradiction with how he’d taken you.

You got yours again and then, he took his. Javi’s release was punctuated with chants of your name and sounds of relief. You felt sheltered. Protected by the weight and breadth of him. And your heart was fit to burst with the knowledge that this man had killed to keep you safe.

“I got you,” Javi breathed against your shoulder.

You sighed and closed your eyes, “I know.”

[possessionisamyth]

Reasons to Love Ada Wong:

-Outstanding Intelligence: As seen in damnation, re4, and re6, Ada knows how to remain one step ahead. She knew the BSAA lie would fall through so she could get into the facility to access what she really needed. She immediately adjusted her plan in re4 to make her helping Leon out of tight fits appear as inconsequential tasks while she went towards her goal. She immediately figured out the "Simmons" calling her wasn't Simmons at all. She's not someone you can outsmart easily.

-Excellent Self-Preservation: Gotta look out for #1 baby, and Ada is the best embodiment of that. RE is packed with enough martyrs who will give up their entire lives "fighting for the cause". This girl is there to get her paycheck and get the fuck out so she can live her life, and I respect it. I hope she charges triple for overtime and extra hassle. We should all be doing that.

-Plays The System Like A Fiddle: Ada says fuck cops. Ada says fuck the government. Ada says fuck corporations. As long as what they're doing won't pull her into a long standing cross fire, she will work for the money they offer, but she'll go where she pleases once she's done. Is that really any different than people in real life looking for a better job when leaving an old, shitty one? I don't think it is.

-Has only one weakness: Ada knows her limits. She knows when she can save someone and when she can't. She knows when to let something lie and when to go for it. Leon is her only weakness, but everyone else she can take or leave unless they prove they'll have value for her work. If Leon died, she'd retire or go back to being ultra capable, so kill him Capcom.

-Impeccable fashion: Ignoring the dragon lady take with og re4 dress, Ada's other outfits are fire. Red is a wonderful color on her because it hides the blood, and also she's so hot.

-Emotionally Unavailable: She is the only RE woman who is not seen sincerely comforting a man or comforting a child(re2/re2r doesn't count because she's acting). This is extremely refreshing. Yes, she is the sexy femme fatale, but does she comfort Leon? No. Does she baby Sherry when she saves her? No. This isn't a moral failing. She's just not that into you, and it's not a flaw. It's an underutilized character trait with women especially.

-Hookshot User: I don't know about the people younger than me, but this was the coolest tool for people to use in cartoons when I was a kid. It's the closest a normal human can get to being Spiderman, and that automatically puts a character on the Best Design list in my opinion.

-High-risk High-reward Thinker: Working with B.O.Ws in any capacity means you're somewhat of a gambler. What does Chris get from going into enemy territory to arrest some guy? Paperwork. What does Jill get from saving Chris' life? Brainwashed into a killing machine and made blonde(the worst fate bestowed upon women). Leon fights for his country. Ew. Gross. You know what Ada gets going into death ridden zones? Her bag. Her check. Her money, and it's actually worth it.

-Espionage S-Rank: The international arrest warrant is going to make things a little more difficult, but Ada's made her career around going under the radar to get in and out of high security areas. She gets the gear, the guns, and plays her role with finesse. Her intel gathering skills must be impeccable to achieve this.

Quick Bullet Points:

Not a eugenicist. (Wesker is.)

Doesn't experiment on corpses. (Heisenberg does this.)

No god-complex. (Wesker has this.)

Against child labor? (Heisenberg wants a baby gun.)

Doesn't make viruses that kill people. Only gets paid to move them around. (Unlike some people.)

Thinks Leon is pathetic, but likes him anyway even if he's a lil ugly. Which is so nice of her. (❤️)

So there's my comprehensive list I said I'd make weeks ago but am just now getting to. If anyone has anything else to add feel free to do so in the replies. If you're here to be an Ada hater, you'll get blocked.

[thessalian]

Thess vs "Little" Extras

So once again, work is seismic levels of bullshit.

We weren't doing too badly - just about caught up, in fact. This is despite the fact that every single last one of the little fuckers I work with keep leaving me with the problem dictations. So I get all the placentas (and The Placenta Guy is working overtime at the moment, damn near literally), all the bowel resections (dictated by people who either dictate too fast, speak with a difficult accent, dictate a report full of grammatical errors, or all of the above), and all the ones by the various newbies who either haven't figured out that maybe switching off the recording while you're taking measurements would be a good idea so that a typist doesn't have to sit through 10-15 seconds of silence between each measurement, have no idea how block keys work, or both. This is my main annoyance. I may have little snippets designed to make typing the stuff The Placenta Guy throws at me a little easier, but that shouldn't be an excuse to throw all of them at me. And yes, I know they do this to me specifically because when I see the queue get larger and look over, I see stuff that was put into the queue before any of the stuff in mine, put there by someone who picked it up out of the queue and decided they didn't want to do it so put it back.

(At least they seem to have figured out that if they're going to pull that shit on me, they should take some of the bullshit from The Breast Guy off my hands.)

Anyway, today all the doctors doing dictation a) came in somewhere in the middle of the day, b) dictated their asses off, and c) dumped the typing into the queue in big blocks of 20+ reports at a go. So you can imagine that even working flat-out, our queue went from mid double figures to low triple figures and we couldn't whittle it down. So that's a mess to look forward to come Tuesday - especially given that they seem to have been coming in on weekends lately, too. I heard talk in our last staff meeting (our first staff meeting, really) that we were looking for a new staffer. That was months ago and I have, of course, heard jack squat. So this is fun.

So in the middle of all this - dealing with all the fiddly frustrating bits of typing that no one wants to do - I get an email from Scruffman, my manager. He's apparently supposed to be writing a Standard Operating Procedure document for the department. Thing is, he's not writing it. Apparently he either can't be arsed or doesn't know what our SOP actually is. Because he asks me if I can write a step-by-step SOP guide to the typing so he can put it in his document. That's ... it. No details. So, grumbling because I am busy actually doing the SOP he's asking me to put down on 'paper', I put together a bullet-pointed list and go, "Is that the sort of thing you were after?" He says yes. I think that's done.

Nope. Then he emails me back going, "So could you grab some screenshots, and put that and your list together as a Word document?"

...I really want to know why he asks me to do the fiddly shit. I'd feel a lot better about it if he told me that it's because I'm one of the most competent people in the department instead of just dumping it on me without any sort of comment, which generally leaves me to think that he picks me for this shit because I'm the one that won't complain at him.

Anyway, I tell him I don't actually have Word on my work laptop. I don't use Word at work. (Hell, I don't use Word at home; I have OpenOffice). But, because I do believe in actually doing my fucking job, I tell him that the only way I could do it is if I took the screenshots, emailed them to myself, and did it on my home computer.

To which he says, "Great; Tuesday's fine. Thanks!"

Now I'm trying to figure out whether I want to start late or leave early on Tuesday because there is no way I'm doing that shit unpaid. Thankfully, I know for a fact that Scruffman would never expect me to (he told me to log out early when I spent 15 minutes of my own time filling out my staff evaluation form, and this is far more delineated as 'work') so that's fine. Thing is, we're getting to a point where I don't know how much we can afford to have me off doing something else. I am the one person in the fucking department who doesn't dodge any work that might be deemed 'difficult' or 'annoying' or 'something they just don't want to do'.

Anyway, after all this, I have to leave the house. Enough groceries to tide me over until the monthly Big Shop can be delivered, and pain meds. It's been a rough week and I keep getting migraine stabs. It's not fun.

[robophantom]

The Batfam in Order of How Likely They Will Kill Someone, According to Me

10: Cassandra Cain/Orphan/Black Bat/Batgirl

No contest. Cass holds the No Kill rule more sacred than Batman does. She rescued a death row inmate from prison just so he wouldn’t be killed (and then had a very awkward talk with one of his victim’s family). Cass is a paragon and would never kill another even in self-defense.

9: Duke Thomas/The Signal

Duke is done dirty by everyone saying he’s the “normal” Batfamily member HOWEVER, I feel like he would be a totally normal person about killing? Like he’s be pretty fucked up if he accidentally killed anyone and he’d never do it on purpose, but he’s not Extra about it like Cass.

8: Stephanie Brown/Spoiler/Batgirl

Pretty much the same as Duke but I think she’d be more likely to accidentally hit someone with her car or something.

7: Barbara Gordon/Oracle

I don’t think it’s any great moral stance that Barbara’s doesn’t kill, but rather that she knows that she can ruin their lives way worse with her laptop than she could with a gun.

6: Bruce Wayne/Batman

I’d put him lower on the list because I’m pretty sure he’s clinging to his No-kill rule with his fingertips and would turn into a serial killer if he ever slipped up even once. HOWEVER, he’s a stubborn asshole (derogatory) and would never give anyone the satisfaction of him slipping up so he stays up here. Alas.

5: Damian Wayne/Robin

Unpopular opinion but I really don’t think Damian will ever slip up and kill someone now that he has an alternative. Like, I think it will always be on the table as an option, but I don’t think he’ll ever choose it. Partially because I just don’t think he’d feel the need, partially because it would feel like the cheap/quitter’s option, and partially to rub it in the face of anyone who has ever doubted him because he’s ALSO a stubborn asshole (affectionate).

4: Dick Grayson/Nightwing

IMO Dick is like Batman in that he is always on the edge and just needs a little nudge to beat someone to death with his bare hands, but he doesn’t have Batman’s smug superiority to keep him from tipping. However, he does have crushing guilt in spades so it would never be something he does intentionally (and even if he does, Batman is just gonna step in and revive the sonuvabitch anyway so)

3: Kate Kane/Batwoman

She’s an ex-soldier and has canonically killed before, but she’s not extra about it, you know? Like it’s something she aware she could do, but would only bring it out in the most dire of circumstances (especially knowing that Cass is always watching and ready to throw down)

2: Tim Drake/Robin/Red Robin

Look tim started out at number 6 on this list and I kept having to move him down because damnit, Tim. He wants to be So Normal and not homicidal, but he has multiple Future Evil Tims who are fascist dictators, and the one time he was forced to the brink in canon he wound up killing potentially hundreds of people at once. He desperately doesn’t want to be a supervillain and that’s really the only thing keeping him from becoming the ~Nightmare Scenario~. Poor kid.

1: Jason Todd/Red Hood

He resisted the no-kill rule for years and I’m sure DC will get bored and make him kill again eventually, too. He’s deeply empathetic toward victims and fully believes that justice for those victims can only be obtained when they and anyone like then can never be hurt again. Given the horrific levels of corruption in Gotham, that can usually only be guaranteed with a bullet between the eyes. Also unlike the rest of the Batfam he’s not afraid to be a supervillain if he thinks it’s serving the greater good. So, at this point the only thing keeping him in the straight and narrow is the fact that he’s secretly a huge daddy’s boy. Given the narrative, I don’t think Jason will ever be able to escape killing which is really fucking sad.

Honorable Mention: Alfred Pennyworth

Could and would kill a bitch, but he doesn’t want to have to get blood out of the carpet

[laresearchette]

Friday, March 01, 2024 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: THE COMPLETELY MADE-UP ADVENTURES OF DICK TURPIN (Apple TV+) MURDER IS EASY (BritBox) THE BRAID (Paramount+ Canada) IN BLOOM (Paramount + Canada) FBI TRUE (Paramount + Canada) SIDE HUSTLERS (The Roku Channel) BMF (Starz Canada) 9:00pm

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA AMERICAN GANGSTER ANOTHER FATHER’S DAY BACK TO THE FUTURE BACK TO THE FUTURE 2 BACK TO THE FUTURE 3 BENNY & JOON BLOW OUT CABIN IN THE WOODS DEATH WISH 2 DEATH WISH 3 DEATH WISH 4 DEATH WISH V: THE FACE OF DEATH E.T., THE EXTRA-TERRESTRIAL GOD IS A BULLET THE HORSE SOLDIERS HOT PURSUIT JAQUE MATE KALIFORNIA KING SOLOMON’S MINES MAD MAX OBLIVION PATHS OF GLORY RAINMAKER THE RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD ROAD HOUSE ROBOCOP (1987) ROBOCOP (2014) ROBOCOP 2 ROBOCOP 3 RUSH HOUR A SHOT IN THE DARK SOME LIKE IT HOT THE THOMAS CROWN AFFAIR THROW MOMMA FROM THE TRAIN VALKYRIE WALKING TALL: THE PAYBACK

CBC GEM THE ADVENTURES OF PADDINGTON (Season 3) CBC MUSIC LIVE AT MASSEY HALL CHATEAU DIY (Season 6B) CROUCHING TIGER, HIDDEN DRAGON THE NEXT STEP (Season 6) RUSTY RIVETS (Season 3) TRIGGER POINT (Season 2)

CRAVE TV ARGO BATTLE OF THE GENERATIONS (Season 1B, Canadian title) BMF CABARET CATWOMAN KNIGHTS OF THE ZODIAC LA LA LAND MAN OF STEEL NEVER GOIN’ BACK ONE DAY AS A LION PACIFIC RIM THE SOCIAL NETWORK TMNT

DISNEY + STAR WONDERFUL WORLD (Premiere)

NETFLIX CANADA ANÍKÚLÁPÖ: RISE OF THE SPECTRE (NG) THE ART OF WAR BLOOD & WATER (Season 4) (ZA) BRIDESMAIDS THE CIDER HOUSE RULES DUNE (1984) FURIES (FR) GEOSTORM GROWN UPS IT (2017) MAAMI LEGAL HAI (IN) MY NAME IS LOH KIWAN (KR) NOTTING HILL PREMONITION THE RUINS S.W.A.T SOMEBODY FEED PHIL (Season 7) SPACEMAN STRANGE BUT TRUE SYDNEY WHITE THEY/THEM THE UGLY TRUTH UNDERWORLD: BLOOD WARS YOU ARE NOT ALONE: FIGHTING THE WOLF PACK (ES)

MLB SPRING TRAINING (SN) 6:30pm: Jays vs. Yankees

NHL HOCKEY (SNEast/SNOntario) 7:00pm: Sabres vs. Blue Jackets (TSN5) 7:00pm: Coyotes vs. Sens (SN) 10:00pm: Devils vs. Ducks

NBA BASKETBALL (SN1) 7:30pm: Warriors vs. Raptors (SN Now) 7:30pm: Mavericks vs. Celtics (TSN2) 10:00pm: Bucks vs. Bulls (SN1) 10:30pm: Capitals vs. Clippers

CURLING (TSN/TSN3) 7:00pm: Montana's Brier: Pool Play

NLL LACROSSE (TSN4) 7:00pm: Swarm vs. Thunderbirds (TSN/TSN4) 10:00pm: Bandits vs. Warriors

MILLION DOLLAR ISLAND (Discovery Canada) 8:00pm

THE REAL HOUSEWIVES OF CHESHIRE (Slice) 8:00pm: You’ve Been Served

BOLLYWED (documentary) 8:00pm: With the Grand Opening of the second location only a week away, mom and dad to come to the rescue one last time.

ABOUT THAT (CBC) 8:30pm

NEVER GOIN’ BACK (Crave) 9:00pm: Angela and Jessie are best friends intent on taking a wild beach trip, but when their roommate loses all of their money in a drug scam, the girls -- blissfully stoned -- go to increasingly daring and absurd lengths to get it back.

THE SUMMIT AUSTRALIA (Discovery Canada) 9:30pm: The group is torn between loyalty and strategy as another hiker is voted off the mountain; a massive rocky chasm stands between the final four and the summit.

[phantomguild]

Star Sending Part 1

PokeAsk Star Sending Gift for @sweetdreamscafe // Part 2

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

Minerva looked over the wishlist she’d been given. Several of these things were definitely in the realm of possibility for her, though a few of them would require her to leave to scavenge them from ruins. She took note of several bullet points on the list in particular. Astrology books, a telescope, a lunar feather, and interesting gemstones. Giving a nod, she opened the gate to the Phantom Guild and set out towards one of the ruined towns.

It was a good few miles off, which gave her plenty of time to think about how she’d even find the items once she got there. She knew that there was a library that was mostly intact, so she could probably find the books and telescope there. Lunar feathers were typically used as good luck charms and were quite popular, so there was a good chance she’d find one searching through someone’s bedroom. She’d scavenged for evolution stones from the shops in the town before, so she knew they had some interesting things.

Faster than she thought, she arrived in the dilapidated village. Another town, devastated long ago by the Hollow, most valuables taken by scavengers ages ago. There were only a few buildings left standing, at least half of them being little more than rubble. Most of the other smaller towns in the area had been annihilated, and while the larger cities in the world were hanging on, they’ve had a few times they were hanging on by only a thread. Shaking her head to dismiss her thoughts, Minerva entered one of the few buildings that was still standing, the careful stonework and tiles weathering the test of time for the most part.

While there were a few broken windows and the library was covered in ivy, there was still a good chance that what she was looking for was inside. Hollow Pokémon didn’t normally just destroy random things, they almost exclusively attacked other Pokémon, and anything that got in the way of that goal. Looking through the listings for books in the inventory (dated 30 years ago, yeesh), she saw several listings for Astrology books.

A few of them were transcribed from memories of the human world by one of the previous heroes, by the Fennekin that had helped stop Dark Matter, specifically, but the majority of them were on this world’s version of it. She noticed there were plenty of similarities between the two interpretations of it. While she did intend to give at least one copy of most of these books, she’d just grab an extra copy for her own interests.

Stepping onto the second story, she took note of the toppled bookshelves, specifically over the section that had the books she needed. She grunted as she attempted to push the wooden shelf upright, and while she did manage to briefly accomplish it, it tilted too far in the other direction, threatening to topple again. “Shit-” was all Minerva managed to stammer out before it slammed into the wall, the noise echoing through the library and likely the surrounding ruins as well. Her body froze as she heard that thundering ‘thud’, expecting a horde of Hollow Pokémon to appear.

She waited three minutes, standing still as a statue in the dim light of the afternoon sun shining through a nearby window and nothing showed. She decided to grab the gift copies for now and grab some for herself later. Grabbing a book with an ornate cover about her world’s version of astrology, a few books about her world’s zodiac Pokémon and the human world’s zodiac, and the transcription of the human world’s astrology, she darted towards the skylight in the center of the room. There sat a refracting telescope, partially in disrepair, but it’d be easy enough to fix. Minerva grabbed it, locked its three legs together, and vaulted over the railing back onto the first floor. “Two down, two to go… I just have to hope I’m fast enough.”

Taking off back outside, she could sense the dread in the air, already able to tell that something had heard her. She needed to wrap this up quickly if she wanted to make it out. Deciding that subtlety was out with Hollows already closing in, she burst through the front door of a mostly intact home, and began tearing through the shelves for the feather. Eventually, she found it under a bit of stray bedding. Picking up the Lunar Wing, she bolted back out the door.

“One more left…” She whispered under her breath as she ran. The sky was already turning crimson, a dark aura surrounding the entire village. It was getting harder to breathe, and her body burned with exhaustion from not normally running this long. Approaching the old Kecleon stand, now in ruins and nature having reclaimed the majority of it, Minerva began to dig through the rubble. While she found plenty of Gravelrocks, she figured that it’d be a bit plain for what Boo had in mind writing his list.

She heard a roar and immediately froze, knowing that running was no longer an option and that hiding would be pointless. She set down her bag containing her gifts and stood up, looking over her shoulder. Standing on top of the library was what looked like a Hollow Entei. Though she quickly realized it was a counterfeit as soon as she saw that it looked off. Its body was losing its shape before slowly moving back into place, as if it was struggling to hold its body together. Though counterfeit or not, it was still powerful and at least half as dangerous as the real thing, and with her unable to predict what Pokémon went into its creation, she didn’t know its types.

“I see that it’s been busy trying to make more Legendary Pokémon since Hollowgigas turned out so well…” she muttered under her breath. She was in a tight spot, especially considering she was out of practice for battle. Still, she readied herself, a dazzling aura surrounding her body. Though before either one could launch their attacks, an angry, high voice shouted from the forest.

“Leave Minerva…” A streak of green whizzed by Minerva, azure embers trailing behind. “Alone!!” A thick, glowing tail slammed into the Entei, knocking it back. Though the wound from Mint’s Dragon Tail was quickly healing, the young hybrid wasn’t yet finished. Summoning whatever fragments of power she could gather within herself, she let out a massive shockwave of blue fire, healing Minerva, and wounding the counterfeit Legendary.

Though she knew that Embers of Life harmed Hollow Pokémon, that wasn’t her primary intention in using it. She was really trying to dispel the Hollow Aura surrounding Entei that increased its power and allowed it to quickly recover from most attacks.